The Unforgiving Minute
House Irian Visions
Darion’s visions after leaving House Irian.
You are placing a crown on Talerion’s head, a silver crown, no, an iron crown, no, a crown of thorns, no, a crown of bones. The crown crumbles into dust. Estrildis is decidedly absent.
Talerion and Estrildis stand at a gallows in Brightwater, nooses around their necks. The floors drops out from under them. It repeats, but now it is Talerion only, with Estrildis as the executioner. And again, their places switched.
Erlindar fires black lightning out of his fingertips at an older man, laughing uncontrollably. An open book lies before him, and he is in a protective circle of some sort. Again, but Erlindar is struck by the black lightning, the book and protective circle unseen. Just before he is struck, his defiant face changes to something else. Triumph, perhaps?
Mina stands back to back with Althea, fighting against overwhelming odds. Again, but they stand opposed, dueling each other, each with desperation and determination on their faces.
Thalion studies over the sheathed sword from the library, obsessing over it for days and days on end. He throws himself into a fiery chasm. Again, but he throws the sword into the chasm. Again, but he pushes someone else into the chasm. Again, but he turns away from the chasm.
Abajeet, surrounded by slain Brightwater soldiers, takes something bright out of a box. She considers it for a moment and tucks it away with her left hand. She kneels before several figures in Sorian Alchemical robes, and rises to join them. Again, but she tucks it away with her right hand. Faceless masses burn the same figures at the stake. Brightwater burns with them, the city collapsing into ruin.