You guys have been great so far! Please read this and tell me what you think. It is the ending to Chapter Four: The Vision of Paradise.
Chapter Four, Final Part
They passed across the plains by quick foot. Aedomir had claimed some venison, making but a sport of the game chase, and between them, new energy struck. They ate in a quick break hungrily, and fed the rest to Rothorn. For the first in a long while, Aedomir felt focused, driven by determination as it keenly flowed through his blood. Aedomir soon deemed it necessary to counsel with Seridon on their path to follow. They sat, and stopped.
Where they stood, upon dry, straw grass, streaks of the cool winter’s wind passed through their hair. It was heavy with an ill stench. The smell was new to Aedomir, but then again, so was everything else. Nothing could be heard save only the weeds as their leaves rustled in the breeze. Aedomir closed his eyes and thought about how things used to be, even before he was outlawed. Times seemed so different then. Streaks of swirling clouds floated like cotton ball across the sky, a pale pink at the dusk's turn. Children skipped around the city pathways with glee upon their faces and women in silk robes carried sweet fruit towards their houses. Now, everything about harnessed a pale sickness, the world could not be so changed. Abroad the sloping hill, clusters of flaky trees and grey skies dominated the horizon. The lands were silent, almost as if waiting for something to strike, to fall and crush. Tension—it floated in the air. Aedomir’s fingers were numb from the obsolete warmth and icy puffs of air. Seridon watched him as Aedomir’s eyes drifted about. Their road had been swift, and yet still they had encountered no others. It became apparent that no scouts of any kind lurked in nearby shadows.
Aedomir opened his mouth to speak, returning the remembrance of his hunger-stained stomach. “How do we know they are alive?” he said.
Seridon halted, but his focus remained forwards and distant. “I would not have suggested finding them, if only they were inanimate. Also, the emperor sent me after both you and them. He would not have done so if he deemed them dead.”
“Perhaps,” said Aedomir, an uncertainty wavering in his voice.
This time Seridon turned. “Have faith.”
He nodded in concurrence to Seridon, but inwardly, Aedomir cursed his knowledge. The dwelling riddles pondered helplessly in the depths of his mind. Suddenly he felt the need to rid himself of his wakefulness and leave his imaginations to destroy themselves. They would entrance him, and only too soon he knew would he surrender to them and self hate would strike. How he yearned for a rapture of blissful refuge to arise, for everything to stop and let his serenity cease. But it never did, as if a tempest had been unleashed through the hazy storms of fallacy.
His eyes were swept back to Seridon and Aedomir became aware of their locked eyes, blazing together.
All sound passed; Seridon began to speak in silent tongue. Aedomir could see the colours of his eyes churning into a vision of soup; swirls of all colours from red to violet. Something inside his head began to pound violently against his skull.
Then the cold—everywhere was so very cold. Like a storm of ice it trapped Aedomir in. Then through the blink of an eye everything went. Something pillaged through him, raging witch-cries. Colours remained though. They danced around in vivid flashes of burnt reds and crimsons.
But they changed; they died.
#
“What see you?” said a familiar voice.
Aedomir blinked, and looked upwards. He could feel Seridon’s breath warm his skin. Then he saw him. The feel of icy grass rubbing against his back resumed. The early afternoon glow still remained amidst the drifting air.
“They live…” Aedomir whispered through parched lips. Those two words he had longed to say from the moment his eyes had befallen upon these times.
“Who—what is that you saw?”
He closed his eyes and felt his lips curve into an arc, a smile. “I saw… rose meadows… which shimmer under the heavenly lights. The sun shines gracefully amongst it, her beauty glows the fields. I feel as though she is sewn into the skies, with the strands of woolly clouds stitched near. Two silver guards at the lattermost end of the pasture hold sparkling tridents that cross as I near. Then they drop, and a harmony of hooves pattering against the ground, mellow the air’s tranquillity.
“Horses race into view, most well-groomed, but one of wicked nature. Their riders I can see, and a memory of them is reawakened. They are us, and my riders. The ill horse is yours. But there is another. The face I cannot see, but the galloping steed continues to ride.”
Aedomir looked through the gap in his drawn eyes. “So it is decided. You will ride with us.”
And there should be a comma after 'soon', methinks. 
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