Chapter Text
Twinned in death as in life, Sólveig wanders the Caelid Wilds in search of his lord. His existence is disgraced, unfit to even carry the pennon of his station. The rot takes, as is its nature. It eats at the land, his soul; and yet his stubborn heart still beats. No home anymore. Nowhere to return. A house in ruin, a cemetery. He feels the immature buds razing beneath the surface of his skin, inflamed and scabbed over, much like the battlefield he drags himself through.
Nights are longer. Sólveig cannot sleep. He cannot dream of sun-drenched fields or altus bloom crowns. He cannot remember the faces of his Redmanes - the brothers and sisters he failed to save. Once, they had shared theorems and played war games with sculpted pieces of smooth onyx, toasting great tankards of spiced rum in camaraderie. Now, Sólveig burns his own flesh to stave off the rot. His memory is already corroded, but he doesn’t want to forget them - O’ cruel golden one, please do not let him forget.
Feet take him to Sellia. He tries to remember his triumphs and wisdoms, all the teachings that led to his mastery over gravitational force. He shared such feats with Ogha, Gaius... and... who else? He stands in the rubble of a place once precious, but he cannot for his worthless life recall why. The swell in his chest is proof enough that perhaps it meant a lot to him ages ago.