the coda

Obsidian

 

A coda.

Usually a place to gather what

came before.

Tie up a few themes.

Let everyone recover.

Cassandra, naturally, has other plans.

After four stories about power,

we have arrived at an interesting

question.

What does power actually look like?

 

The obvious answers are easy.

Status.

Control.

Authority.

The occasional devoured Bloodwitch.

 

We've covered those.

But there is another kind.

Quieter.

The kind a person carries without

necessarily knowing it is there.

Sometimes it remains hidden for years.

Until it meets something that

recognises it.

 

Which brings us to two people.

One glance.

That's all it takes.

After everything Cassandra has been

through trying to understand what she

sees; I find this almost offensively

efficient.

 

Still.

Here we are.

Emerald.

Meet Obsidian.

obsidian

 

Power is such an obvious thing to see,

they say. I just smile and observe

silently.

Status and wealth are never true

power. They are masks that resemble it

- convincing, elusive, but still masks.

 

The truest form of power I have ever

seen, I saw in him.

Obsidian. 

A charming smile. Eyes like obsidian

mirrors - deep, dark, carrying an

otherworldly shimmer.

 

For most, it was impossible to see what

lay beneath.

Elegant. Fractured.

A power he had not yet realized,

rushing like fire beneath his skin.

Intoxicating.

When obsidian breaks, it does so

beautifully.

Not in straight lines - never.

But in curved patterns, like shells

washed and polished for eons in the

storms of deep oceans.

Elegant curves that earn the right to

be called edges.

Edges sharp enough to cut like a

blade, stripping away all needless

costumes.

Delicate. And strong.

 

If you offer your own sovereign power

as a place where such a sharp-edged

being can burn - and know you can

stand within those flames - they do not

consume you. They fuel you.

 

And Obsidian recognized this with a

single glance at me.

I, Cassandra - the emerald-eyed one -

did not see that coming.

It took me by surprise.

 

I looked into his eyes, those beautiful

dark mirrors, and felt something I had

not felt in a long time.

Recognition. There was no doubt, no

holding back - only pure intensity and

fire. I saw the man behind it. 

The one he might become - or not.

 

Obsidian is sharp.

He cuts through lies as if they were

nothing, for he was forged in fire.

Cool and dark on the outside,

glistening - because he decides what

the world will see. Precise.

Never halfway - not by day, and

certainly not by night.

 

What he could not know

was that emerald is the seeing stone.

That within it lies a vast garden, forged

by fire as well - burning with a green

flame.

And that this fire leaks through every

fracture of me.

His beautiful fractured longing

slowly moved within my own.

 

Flames intertwined, retreating only to

cool - just to meet again.

He let me take the lead. 

And there, I saw his power emerge.

 

Nothing is as powerful as a man

who fully surrenders.

That power does not need to break or

conquer, nor seduce or manipulate.

It floods you - slowly until you feel its

frequency. Until it vibrates in every cell

of your body.

Until your heart aligns to it

as if it were the only sound it ever

wanted to hear.

 

And then it answers back - amplified,

raw, and pure.

Nothing to declare. Nothing to define.

Nothing to own. Not even a word for it.

 

This is beyond a fairytale love story.

It is what comes when you follow your

longing.

It is real with sharp edges 

and tender voices whispering of

forgotten things.

 

A claim was made. A vow was taken.

Surrender to the midnight garden.

Surrender to Emerald and Obsidian.

So.

Emerald and Obsidian.

Neither gave the other anything they

didn't already have.

That's the interesting part.

Something simply became visible.

Obsidian surrenders.

Emerald receives.

Neither becomes smaller.

Quite the opposite.

 

There is a peculiar kind of power that

has no need to prove itself.

It can remain quiet.

Hidden, even.

Until something recognises it.

And then, apparently, things become

rather less quiet.

Cassandra does have a talent for

escalation.

But look at her.

After everything.

Still there.

Still entirely Cassandra.

 

Emerald and Obsidian.

Both rather accustomed to keeping

certain things beneath the surface.

This should go smoothly.

Don't look at me like that.

 

I'll give you a moment.

Quite.

And the vow?

Yes.

I noticed.

A claim was made.

A vow was taken.

We'll leave that where it is.

For now.

 

A coda is supposed to bring things to

a close.

This one appears to have opened

something instead.

Typical.

The Cycle is complete.

And now?

We'll see.