When the blue finally came

Veigar rushed over to her, burying his face into her fur and shivering hard although it was not cold. The defeat in his voice felt like it might break her, though she knew no way to comfort the saddened boy. Aryn spared one last glance over his shoulder toward the rocky slope where the fireflies had been leading them.

There, at the edge of the caldera was a familiar figure (unmistakably Eyrun, Aryn was convinced) but it did not linger long before half-walking, half-floating toward the edge. The compulsion to follow was nearly impossible to ignore - her friend needed her, was calling her, - but here in her arms was Eyrun's orphaned child and Aryn knew that she could not leave him now.

She clutched the boy tighter, holding him to her as hard as she could in hopes that he could not turn and watch as his mother disappeared into the volcano. "Sometimes grief plays tricks on us." Aryn whispered to him, her own voice breaking as tears threatened to spill over. "On both of us. I'm so sorry, Veigar."