In the midst of their bout, Sonam held nothing back. His eyes watered as he entered her aura’s dazzling flare; his blade arced back just as hers came down. The two met in a ringing clash, then skittered off one another as she pressed forward, drawing him onto his back foot. His arms trembled, but he raised them again and again, parrying each blow. As he neared the precipice, he twisted his body away from her and sliced at the open space near her side. But before his blade could connect, the glass shards beneath them shot up from the ground. Sonam staggered backward, blocking the onslaught with the edge of his sword. However, some of the shards ricocheted against his blade, cutting across his chin and nearly grazing his eye. 

He could scarcely catch his footing before she was upon him again, swiping low at his stomach and then slashing high to rent through his heart. When the spear's curved blade grazed him, he saw her brown eyes tremble as if she could not believe what she saw as it cut through his robes, grazing over his heart. Was she thinking that her victory would come easily? 

Sonam threw himself backward, tumbling end over end before his feet dragged against the earth to slow his momentum. He coughed harshly, spatting a mouthful of viscous blood on the ground with his hand clutching the steaming wound. He gritted his teeth, coiling threads of energy into his skin, painstakingly sewing the cauterizing flesh together until all was left was a tingling sensation.

In battle, every second counts towards victory. Why hasn't she attacked yet?

His vision blurred at the edges as he lifted his head. A rosy, reddish-glow emerged along the distant mountain summits. Some had snow-covered summits and others slate grey against the fleeting muted colors of a waning night, but the one before him was as bright as noontide. In the shadow of her face, trembling lips formed words he could not make out over his ragged breaths. His hands shook as he gripped his sword tighter, taking a staggering step forward. Tiny spheres of light manifested in the open air, and Sonam cursed his misstep as he lunged out of the way, dodging them when they came soaring toward him. When a sphere collided with where he stood, the earth seared into molten slag while the others pursued him.

Sonam kept a wary eye for the solitary figure, still chanting, while he lunged and dipped, struggling to gain ground as the spheres reduced his footholds to lava. He drew his scarf over his nose to keep from suffocating on the acrid smoke, wet coughs filling his mouth with the taste of iron and copper.  Energy buzzed beneath his hand, drawing the blood from the tattered fabric. It circled in his palm, elongating and compacting into thin needles. He flung one into each of the spheres, exploding them upon impact, and as another formed behind her, he struck it with a backhanded throw.

Thick plumes of smoke arose from the ground, blocking his vision, but he managed to find a patch of soil where he could kneel and gather his breath. While the smoke didn't help his hacking coughs at all, he did feel the pressure alleviate in his chest once he bent low to the ground, kneeling, pressing his head against the sand. His focus wavered as the encroaching darkness ate away at his sight, weariness resting heavily upon his neck. With another sputter, red droplets spattered against the ground beneath his head. Shadows danced wildly on either side of him, shortening rapidly.

Finally…

Sonam pushed against the ground, straining to rise. With his eyes lifted heavenward, he gazed directly into the sun with a rasping sigh. He blinked against the blinding glare, realizing it wasn't the sun he was staring into but a brilliant mass of energy, bright enough to rival its celestial counterpart. His lips pulled back into a bloody smile as he stabbed his sword into the ground, using it as a post to help him stand. While his body pleaded for him to stop, aches and stabbing pain coursing through every inch of his being, he stumbled to the edge of his sanctuary and cupped his hands at his lower abdomen.

"Mother, protect me," he whispered as fragments of a crystalline, opalescent light shone beneath his skin. Their radiance wasn't even a fraction of what loomed over his head, but he held onto the flood of benevolence that overwhelmed him. Visions of a water garden built at the mouth of a waterfall, pouring rain, and the gentle chime of a bell ringing in time with the fluid steps of a dancer while heart blossoms hung low from weeping branches. He watched them from behind his eyelids, then let them go, concentrating on the malice as the heart blossoms burned and the garden evaporated into a thick fog. A shadow fluttered oft in the distance, but he knew it well, for every time he recalled that shape - fury threatened to consume him.

Today, it could have all of him.

Sonam roared as he was engulfed, launching himself into the skies. Within the mass of light, he saw not a spear-wielding warrior but a thousand flaming arrowheads aimed at him.

And in the overbright gleam, he closed his eyes.

When Sonam stirred at the lukewarm dribble of salty, clinging rain traced a path down his cheek. His brows furrowed as he tried to pry his eyes open, failing once when they proved to be too heavy, then attempting again as two more droplets joined the others. He managed to glance aside; the sight of a bright, cerulean sky sent a twinge of discomfort through his eyes, and he forced them shut with a pained groan. 

"How is it raining when there isn't a single cloud in the sky?"

A heavy, warm weight settled upon the left side of his chest. It splayed out, slender and pressing, but he couldn't tell what it was exactly. 

"Dawa..."

His eyes snapped open, darting around until he looked directly above him. Gold-ringed brown irises reflected his startled visage. 

So, I haven't died yet…

He stared back into her tear-streaked face for a few seconds before averting his eyes. “I hate the rain,” he groaned, attempting to turn his head to one side until he realized he’d come face to face with her stomach. Am I lying on her lap? He thought, cursing the lack of strength in his head to move an inch. A traitorous rush of heat warmed the back of his neck, but as he opened his mouth, he miserably hacked a wet cough that made him wish he didn’t turn so much.

Two more droplets joined the others, sliding down from the curve of his cheek to the line of his jaw. Sonam blinked blearily, staring out in the distance. The distant joyful cries ringing somewhere beyond them picked up his ear, and he huffed, turning his head to rest his cheek against his shoulder. 

“It sounds like they’re having a festival,” he muttered disinterestedly, dragging in puffs of air through clenched teeth. “Shouldn’t you go join them?”

Warm tears trickled from her eyes, "How are you talking like this even now?" She whispered, so soft that he strained to hear her. 

He snorted derisively, a smile painfully pulling at his lips. "Easily, I haven't died yet, have I?"

"But you are dying!" His smile fell as she lifted her hand between them, showing the damp, scarlet film beneath her nails and the pads of her fingers stained crimson. "This is your blood, and it's on my hands because I.."

"Is that guilt I hear, Apotheosis?" He spat, reeling back when she loomed over him.

"Don't call me that!" She snarled, embers sparking on her tongue dying as her voice lost its intensity as if she couldn't keep the flames of her anger burning. "Not here, not now..." 

He felt the weight upon his chest move, realizing it was her hand when she cupped his cheek and tipped his head up until her face encompassed his entire world. "Dawa, curse my name," she whispered, dragging her thumb beneath his eye. "Say you hate me. Anything, anything at all but that. Don't you regret where we've ended?"

Yes.

"No."

Her pupils contracted into pinpricks, hurt and disbelief clouding her eyes.

Sonam urged himself to keep speaking despite the pain in his cinching throat, "I pity you. They call you their champion, and will ask you to fight their battles forever. But until my dream has been fulfilled, I will not rest."

Perhaps it's for the best to leave it there.

"Your dream..." she whispered, and he could hear the rage welling in her voice, preparing for the fury that would soon follow. "And what about our dream?"

She shouted in his face, flinging question after question.

"What about our friends, our allies, the disciples you raised? They believed in you…” 

And though she rained fire and brimstone upon his head with her words, her touch against his cheek never harshened.

“Didn’t you want to go home? Rebuild Jutai? So we could wed on earth and be as one above and below?”

Sonam bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw fresh blood. As his periphery dimmed, blurring and fading, her face remained clear and pristine. So much so that he almost thought to ask her why she didn’t aim for his neck. If she’d taken his head, then neither of them would have to suffer through this.

"Have you come to hate me as well? Is that why you won’t speak?” She pleaded, voice softening as she bent her head low, pressing her forehead to his. Sonam’s eyes twitched when she came closer, widening then shuttering as he bit down on his tongue hard enough to sever its tip. The pain amounts to nothing when compared to his bleeding heart. 

“Sonam… didn't you want to stay with me?"

His hands trembled, eyes squeezed shut. Sand gritted under his fingertips, glass shards pricking beneath his nails, but the sensation in his hands was slowly leaving him. Even the solid warmth radiating from her felt distant. 

".. They do not deserve you," he whispered, feeling the wetness on his cheeks and the salt on his lips, unsure if it was hers or his. "The most honored poison of my heart.."

The sound of her shuddering sobs mingled with his labored breaths, but both were drowned out by the caterwaul of raucous cheers and showering praises arising from the world below. Yet, the merry atmosphere wouldn’t reach its pitch until Sonam’s chest descended for the last time, and his face smoothed with the peace only death could bring. Warriors threw down their weapons, overcome with joy, as the skies cleared with the herald of a new dawn. 

For the common people’s prayers had finally been answered. 

Sonam, the Harbinger of Calamity, was dead, and none would shed a grieving tear for him. None but the Darling of the Heavens who wept in his hair long after he closed his eyes.