The sunlight burned her eyes. She closed them against it. Her first breath of fresh air for an entire month was gasped through a down-turned mouth. She was thin, so thin that she was almost skeletal, the bones of her ribs and spine showing perversely. She hardly even resembled the woman that had locked herself away four weeks ago. The guilt and strain of her actions had reduced her to a gaunt figure of hopelessness. A few seconds later she tried to open her eyes again and found it not as blinding. She had chosen the day rather than night because she could no stand to see the judging eye of the moon upon her form. She gripped hold of the door frame to keep herself upright.
The world had continued on without her but she knew that it was not unchanged. The scents of her oldest daughter and son led to the house nearest to her own. Dalgina's and Keldava's were nowhere to be found, neither was Temo's. Her arms trembled, the barely there strength within them pitiful. Her bi colored eyes adjusted to the glare, they were large, sad orbs set deep into her face, sunken. Pain lanced through her chest with every breath she took, she wasn't sure if it was even possible to repair her family but she was going to try, for everyone's sake.
The day had been hard for him. Every day that his mother remained sequestered away increased the amount of tension that grew inside of his stomach. He was the walking wounded in his heart. But today was different, he had managed to catch some pheasants, he knew there was not a lot of food in the house for her to eat, and he would present them to her even if it meant breaking into his own house and baring the brunt of her aggression. She wouldn't kill him, not him her beloved son, not him the white god of the sun, overseer of the summer. Then like an apparition from his evil dreams there she was before his pale visage.
But.. no. This wasn't his mother. He stared, open jawed at the thin and sickly creature that stood before him. No! This was not his mother. Where was the warrior who had given all, given her home to protect her young family, had plunged into conflict and murdered to save her daughter, had bravely stood up to injustice and oppression. He was sickened and bile rose in the back of his throat, where was his mother, his Mahn. His light fingers clenched hard against the necks of the colorful birds he held, his claws dug into them.
She hadn't even noticed him yet, her eyes were closed tightly in pain. And then she did open her eyes and oh how he cringed at the suffering he saw there, the pain she held. Drawn by the wills of fate her face turned to face him and her eyes finally turned onto him, widening impossibly, filling with horror as she beheld his face. His feet moved of their own accord and he found himself stood before her, looking down at her. She didn't speak, didn't move, just continued to stare at him as he had done to her, mouth open in shock. The boy surprised himself by dropping to his knees in front of her and pressing the side of his face against her bony sternum, "Mahnaya."
It was pain upon pain, months and years and decades of mind numbing, heart clenching pain within that one moment she felt as she saw the damage, the destruction she had wrought. She could not stop her jaw from tumbling open nor her skinny limbs from shaking weakly. She was a menace, a fiend to do what she had upon her own flesh and blood, her own son, the tiny boy she had held within one hand as he cried his first breath. The quiet, strange boy he had grown into and the tall strong man he had become. This.. this was her legacy, blood and violence.
He came closer and his eyes were blank, she barely noticed the display of color at his side, the dried up muscle within her chest clenched and she finally did something. She gasped out loud. He blocked out the light behind him, her sun god, ruler of the summer. She was ready, ready for anything, for him to scream and shout or maybe even to hurt herself. She was ready for it all. But she did not envision what happened next and didn't follow until his head was pressed against her thin chest, his word sparked within her, her son had not forsaken her even after the pain she had caused him. She felt something other than the pain and guilt and her eyes watered, their contents spilling over onto her cheeks,
"My son... my beautiful son. What have I done to you." Her voice was croaky and cracked, barely even there.
