The Shard of Dreams.
She'd tried to make her homecoming stick. Really, she had. She had returned to the Source; faced trial in Ishgard; learned to find friendships and love again. She'd gone through the motions; trained with her trusted sword, the Fury's Looking-Glass, won a tournament, explored new lands.
But she dreamed. Every night, the fae visited her, and reminded her of the sprawling fields of pink solitude; of the world pulled back from the brink that was cautiously sprouting new life. The true nature of this reflection -- her life's work to attain passage to it through her magicked mirror, so aptly-named -- pulled her thoughts away like petals from a daisy.
Will-she, won't-she...will-she.
And so she did. This time, she said goodbye to her family; they understood. Little Ser Bale, always with her head in the clouds, going to be truly away with the faeries. For the few others who still recalled her name, she sent out brief missives; she had been fading away for a long time, after all, so her departure likely came as no surprise. It was a perfect ending to her imperfect tale.
She stepped through the magicked mirror in her Tower one final time, drawn through the rift...and was home.
((Anne-Sophie has long been retired, but I thought I'd give her a little blurb. Goodbye, eager magic knight; you were a fun one. She will be fantasia'd into Someone New in Dawntrail.))
