Proud

Proud
There, resting side-by-side in the broad daylight, lay two heavy stone crypts. They were closed, their surfaces covered in fresh, blooming wildflowers.
Leaning casually against the side of the stone vaults sat a man.
He was dressed in loose, comfortable tunics, his legs stretched out in the grass. As Isorai approached, he lifted his head, and a brilliant, blindingly familiar smile spread across his face, though she was sure she had never seen him before. 
His eyes crinkled with an immense, profound relief and pride.
"Well done, little one," he said, his voice a comforting, steady anchor in the vastness of her mind. He gestured softly toward the open sky beyond the vault. “It has been a long time since I have been able to speak with Moongrove.."
Isorai took a step toward him, but he gently shook his head, his form beginning to soften around the edges.
"Don't linger here, Isorai," Kaelen told her softly. "This will always be here. Go back. Go and be with your mate. Be with your family. Live, and be happy. You have carried the weight of your destiny well and done us proud, High Matron.”
“Do you know who that woman is?” 
He smiled. “A bitter, dead woman who can no longer harm anyone.”
That wasn’t what she meant, but she supposed it was answer enough. He gave her a final, respectful nod, his eyes shining with absolute love.
"Until next time, Our Reckless Reckoning.”
The words echoed through the crystal sky, and the dreamscape began to dissolve into a warm, rushing tide of physical sensation. Isorai felt the heavy, comforting weight of her own body return. She felt the cool morning breeze of the Grove rustling her hair, the rough bark of the Great Tree beneath her back, and most importantly, the roaring, white-hot gold heat of Ruhkaal's hand pressed firmly against her heart.
With a deep, gasping breath that filled her newly forged sapphire lungs, Isorai opened her eyes to the living world.

Ruhkaal pulled back his hands just as the world began to tilt dangerously into gray.
His vision swam, his own inner hearth flickering dangerously low, a breath away from total exhaustion. He fell back onto his haunches, his chest heaving as he gasped for air in his mortal form. Beside him, the wind-witch let out a sharp, ragged breath, her hands dropping to her sides.
For a terrifying beat, the platform was dead silent. Then, a low, melodic groan echoed. Isorai’s fingers twitched against the smooth bark.
Before their eyes, the remnants of her shattered, dust-choked armor began to violently ripple. The alloy didn't just mend it. It drank the ambient sapphire and gold energy radiating from her skin, reforming into a sleek, overlapping suit of iridescent, crystalline plates that fit her like a second skin. Beside her, a shock of light fractured the air, condensing instantly into a magnificent spear. Thirteen intricate metal rings chimed softly near its head, vibrating .
The heavy, broken helmet that had shielded her head during her fall began to shrink, its dark iron melting and shifting until it rested across her brow as a delicate, elegant diadem of black metal, heavily dotted with glittering, star-like sapphire jewels.
Her eyes snapped open. They were no longer entirely human; for a brief flash, the reptilian, ruby-red intensity of the two-headed creature within them before softening into a deep, vibrant violet.
"Isorai," Ruhkaal choked out.
He didn't care about the armor, the spear, or the crown. He lunged forward, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her up against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, hugging her tight his lips tracing the warm skin right above the phantom line where his fiery torc had anchored her soul.
When he finally pulled back enough to look at her, his expression shifted from raw relief to a fierce, protective scowl.
"You absolute, reckless idiot," he scolded, his voice cracking with a mixture of leftover terror and exhaustion as he scooped her up into his arms, refusing to let her to stay on the ground much longer. "Do you have any idea what you just put me through? You can't just go around stopping your own heart and summoning giant basins. I swear, I turn my back for one moment and you decide to rewrite the entire ledger of reality."
Isorai let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hands resting against his soot-stained shoulders. "At least I’m not boring.”
"Your heart stopped!"
"Details," she whispered, leaning forward to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to his jaw. "I promised Rangiora I’d come back. Put me down, Ruhkaal. We still have things to do."
Reluctantly, his muscles protesting the strain, Ruhkaal agreed. As much as he wanted, there was no way was going to be able to carry her and not send them both tumbling to the ground. Slowly, with the help fot her wind-witch, they descended from the heights of the canopy, through the emerald-tinted beams of sunlight until their boots touched the pristine, dew-kissed grass of the Grove.
The scene below was nothing short of miraculous and joyful.
The silence of the dawn had evaporated, replaced by a hum of vibrant energy. Witches were converging from the various paths leading to Grove. Men and women of immense power and ancient aura were hugging their descendants. The High Matrons of several fallen covens were greeting one another, embracing with tearful laughter and a quiet, profound reverence for being alive. 
Slowly, the crowd turned and the sea of witches parted, bowing their heads in unison to the newly ascended High Matron.
Then, Isorai’s gaze locked onto a quiet clearing near the edge of the central pavilion.
Xaruh was sitting against the root of a tree. Wrapped tightly in his arms was her mother, Althea. She was cuddled deeply into the man’s chest, her silver hair spilling over his dark robes as they whispered to one another, their fingers intertwined.
Isorai stopped in her tracks. A fierce, sudden urge to run to her mother, to throw her arms around her neck and weep for everything they had lost and regained, surged through her chest. But seeing the absolute, uninterrupted peace on her mother’s face she hesitated.
She had more time with her mother than Xaruh. They deserved the time togeher.
She took a slow step back, a soft, bittersweet smile playing on her lips.
“You’re not going to go over?”
“I have time… let them have their.”
Ruhkaal looked from Xaruh and Althea back to Isorai, he blinked as a sudden, realization dawned on his exhausted mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sharp, roguish grin breaking through his exhaustion.
"Hold on a second," Ruhkaal muttered, leaning down so his whisper tickled her ear. "If Xaruh is my dad, and Althea is your mother... and they are very clearly mates... is it supposed to be weird for us that our parents are currently cuddled up like teens? Shouldn’t we be doing the overt cuddling?"
Isorai blinked, turning her head to stare at him, barely fighting back a laugh.
This man…