II. THE FALLING
—

He is falling, falling, falling and there is nothing Aloth can do to slow it. No spell, no armour strong enough to cushion the blow.

This will kill him. This will kill him and—

He feels a hand cup his cheek, rough thumb brushing away a stray tear. He is too afraid to open his eyes, to look, to see. To see compassion. To see empathy and understanding in her eyes. He knows it is there, without a doubt because he has spent months looking, seeing it in her very being.

She is a good person and he yearns for her, fears her. He does not deserve her. He has lied to her, used her. Held his tongue when he could have helped her own unravelling and now she holds him, his mind, his heart, at the tips of her tender fingers.

He knows she will make the kind choice, the right choice, when he asks her what he should do. He cannot trust his own mind, his own heart in this. All he can do is open himself up, bare the ragged edges of his soul, let loose the last of the secrets holding him up and trust she will catch him.

The brush of a thumb over his eyelid. It's okay, she says and—

There are arms and legs and body, wrapped in metal and scale and cloth, wrapped around him. Holding him tight, holding him close, changing his fate with a change of direction.

Aloth has no spell, no armour to cushion the blow, but now there is a body between him and the ground. He is too slow to realise, too slow to beg just as he was too weak to hold on.

But she was always been faster, stronger, more resolved

But this will kill her, it will her and—

They hit the ground.

The world stills in ears and fades in eyes, returning in snatches. A harsh breath, an aching chest, tarnished metal and pale flesh. Aloth hurts, but he lives.

He scrapes his hands out from between their bodies, presses his shaky palms against the stone and the grit. He pushes himself up with a cry, half pain, half agony. The body beneath him does not move.

"Maren," Aloth breathes and touches her cheek, her eyelids. Her lips. Gentle and afraid. "Please."

Maren stirs beneath him, still alive, still breathing, and smiles a little bloody. "I caught you," she says, voice a whisper, but it rings in his ears and fills up his chest.

"Yes," Aloth says, relief overwhelming. "I rather think you did."