Past Unwound (Last Herald Mage, Tylendel/Vanyel)

Vanyel stumbled through the archway into the strange garden. The celebration continued on around them, their presence unnoticed for the moment, but slowly people were turning, regarding the two young men that had suddenly appeared with obvious curiosity. Tylendel stormed forward and Vanyel could feel how angry he was. He reached forward to catch Tylendel’s sleeve but his knees chose that moment to give out. The world spun and he found himself half-kneeling on the ground, nauseous and weak.

“They’re celebrating.” The disgust was obvious in Tylendel’s voice, palatable in the air between them.

Thought was hard for Vanyel. He was weak, his mind foggy, but still, there was a part of him, an insistent, nagging part of him that pierced through the fog and told him that something was wrong here. Very, very wrong, and it was that sense the fueled his thoughts towards logic. It was Harvestfest. There were celebrations at home too, all around the region and beyond.

A wave of dizziness made him swoon, nearly collapsing to the ground. Tylendel had moved away by the time his vision had cleared, standing between Vanyel and the line of trees the divided them from the festivities. Twin bolts of crimson lightning arched from Tylendel’s raised hands to crash into the trees that separated them from the Leshara-kin.

In the deepest pit of his stomach, Vanyel knew that he couldn’t let this happen.