The Strangling

He crouched over her. “Hush. Where would you have us be?"

She swallowed hard. “Faraway from here."

"Where, tell me, see it."

"A summer meadow."

"Feel it.” He put his hand on his heart, and then touched it to hers. “Be it."

In her mind's eye, she pictured a meadow, the grass lush and green, meadow flowers blossoming in the summer sunshine.

"Hold the image.” He looked down at her with an expression that made her want to weep. There was acceptance there. Death was close to his mind. As she stared at him, she felt the presence of evil pressing close around the circle. More demons. Her breath stopped in her chest. “Bron?"

"Do not fear them. Remember the wolf; show them no fear.” He eased her thighs apart, laid over her. “I love you. I will give my life, my soul, for your safety."

He could not mean that? In that moment, she was more afraid of his words than of anything else. Surely, he did not mean to sacrifice himself? Is that what he thought the act of faith was?

"The time is nigh, Maerose.” He rested his hand over his manhood, stroking heavily. “Hold the images, be strong. If we aren't strong and show the way, there is no turning back, for any of us."

Above his head, the demon soared into the red sky. Soon, another three rose beside it, flying in formation over their heads. They watched over the figures that spewed out from the pit and onto the land.

She clamped her eyes shut, closed out the vision.

Yes, see only what is good here, Bron urged.

Through her lids, red glowed. She thought of poppies, summer sunshine.

The power is ours to give.

She felt Bron's hands on her; she heard his voice in her mind. He stroked her, mounted her, and entered her. Wanting above all to be joined to him, no matter what, she clung to him for life, her body anchoring to his.

Let it flow through you, let it flower from you.

Yes, her heart cried. Life! And there it was, blossoming inside her, as if a hundred womanly hearts were beating within her. She saw the trees near Riversbend—she saw the leaves unfurling, the creatures coming out of their winter burrows. She breathed the heady scent of grass on a warm day; heard the sound of the river rushing merrily after the early summer rain. The rain dropped onto her face, soft gentle water, cleansing. Bron kissed her, and she tasted the rain on his lips, too, freeing a grateful gasp from her lungs. She had brought it there—pure, magical rain—she had made it real.

You have broken through the pall above; the moon goddess is with us. She shines right here alongside you, my love.

Screams echoed around them. The sound of rage-filled screams, bodies falling.

You begin to defeat them, Maerose. Shine on.

A deep, relieved breath sucked into her lungs and, with it, the scent of bluebells. “Bluebells,” she whispered, “the forest.” And suddenly she was there, running in her dream forest, loving it, breathing it in and reveling in its beauty. She shared the image in her mind and heart with Bron, felt him enter into it and experience it. “The place wants to be alive, Bron, its heart is buried deep, but it is here."

"Yes, and through you it will be reborn.” He was holding her tight in his arms, on the floor of the forest, with the dappled sunlight behind his head as he looked down at her with deep emotion. He was riding her gently, nurturing her in his arms as she saw the heart of The Strangeling, and recognized it.

"Bron, it really is true."

She clung to him, for he was deep inside her, their essences mingling. As she said the words aloud, realizing it truly, her body jerked upwards. Their entwined power rose as one, pouring out of them and into the atmosphere. Her eyes flashed open. Bright white moonlight crashed around them, breaking through the red heat, fracturing the mist. Above them, sparkling light plumed up from where they lay, forming into an opening fan of magical colors, floating in the moonlight.

Beyond that, the demons screamed, hovering far above, as if to swoop and capture them. So much darkness to overcome, so much evil. She focused on Bron riding her and saw that his face was contorted with effort, sweat dripping from his brow. He was protecting her from what was still close around them, holding it back, while she brought the magical place there instead.

Death was still close. Her heart felt fit to burst. If they must die here, her love for him would live on and bring hope here. She held him tighter still, her legs wrapping around his hips. “You are my life,” she cried, “my breath, my master."

Now it was time for her to watch and see, and for him to rise. His head dropped back and he lifted up on his arms, freeing a mighty roar into the night sky. Power soared through him, lighting up the land around them like a startling flare of lightning. Her heart ached with pride, her body shuddering with effort. Her juices spilled on the earth as he plowed into her, close to his release. The earth around them grew bright, shimmered.

The ghostly hordes had begun to squall amongst themselves, those falling under the sword swallowed into the earth again. They did not scare her now, not now.

But then, a cold hand gripped her heart, for she saw a familiar face looming from amongst the ghostly hordes.