The following is the last chapter of Flames of Lecraesa which I have been worried over lately. It does not require too much explanation, and, even if you have not read what I have posted of Flames, I would love some comments.
~
Beads
A few days later Creiha sat with Lusien in an airy room at the back of the Kilandin Sanctuary; a violent wind beat against the outside of the sanctuary and with each gust, rain sprayed through the open windows and soaked the wooden floor. Thousands of tiny strings of beads hung from the ceiling; each string was painted a different color, every bead a lighter shade until the bottom bead was almost white. The colors of the beads had faded and the paint had long been chipping away. The beads knocked against each other softly, limp in the wind. Rebstin had taken pride in showing them this beautiful room. Creiha knelt on the damp floor, one arm draped around Lusien’s trembling shoulders.
Rain gushed into the room and soaked Creiha’s hair which hung in stiff locks around her lowered face. Creiha looked up sadly at the harsh light filtering into the room.
“It’s raining,” she said in a tiny voice and slid her arm away from Lusien’s shoulders. Lusien lifted her head slowly to stare in the direction of the window, her violet eyes glittering. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Lusien smiled shakily in a desperate attempt not to cry, but tears still streamed down her sallow face.
“Why does it rain now?” Creiha whispered and looked up at the beads. “Why does it rain after everything is gone? After everything has been destroyed?”
A light spray of rainwater splashed Creiha's face. Lusien followed Creiha’s eyes to stare up at the beads. “Perhaps it is dousing the flames that are passing.” she said hopefully. “Perhaps the sky will stop burning.”
Creiha looked over at Lusien. The outline of her upturned face was framed by the haze of rain outside, and her long brown hair snaked around her neck and caught on her chapped lips. Creiha drew a shaking breath. “Are you ready to let go?”
Lusien nodded, her body convulsing in a stifled sob. Tears coursing down her cheeks, she closed her eyes and reached to the back of her braid, untying the blue beads there and holding them tightly in her wet hand.
Creiha leaned over and dragged a wooden stool over to where Lusien had risen to her feet; she stood with her and looked into Lusien’s eyes. “It’s time, Lusien.”
“Please. You do it,” Lusien cried softly and stretched her hand towards Creiha desperately, falling victim to the sobs rising in her throat.
“This is your battle, Lusien,” Creiha answered, a gut-wrenching pain surging within her when she saw Lusien’s broken expression. “Are you ready?”
Realizing that Creiha would not help her, Lusien clutched the beads in her fist close to her chest and climbed onto the stool with weak legs. She wept as she opened her hand and gazed down at the beads one last time. She paused for a moment, and tears glistened as they rolled down her face. Another cold breeze wafted in with more water, soaking her loose, curling hair and shaking the beads around Lusien. Hands trembling, Lusien reached upwards and lifted the beads to the ceiling.
Lusien tied the beads to the ceiling along with the others, running her wet fingers down the string and letting go slowly, watching the string begin to blow with the others and bend to the wind’s ever-prevailing stream.
Weeping, Lusien stepped down from the stool, still staring at the blue beads, which now hung with all the others. She sat down and held her empty fist close to her, squeezing her eyes shut. Creiha barely heard her whisper. “I never thought it would end this way….” Her voice failed. Another breeze wafted into the room and sprayed cold water into her face.
Creiha drew back from Lusien and stared into her face, mustering her broken voice and saying, “What makes you think this is the end?”
Lusien hugged herself tightly, crying softly. Creiha inched away from her, biting her lower lip and reaching into her cloak which was heaped on the ground nearby. From her cloak she drew the book she had found in Arillo’s house the day Arillo died. She had been reading it throughout the journey, but now the golden lettering on the front seemed more beautiful than ever. She opened it to the last page and as she traced the flowing letters, she began to weep.
~
But the delicate flowers climbing the once desolate ruins do not wither when the storm lingers for but a time and the flames of Lecräesa do not dance to but one song. Ashes do not crumble as ashes until the fire has consumed each last drop of rain; tears are not hopeless unless hope ceases to exist.
And though the sun may flicker and lose its light, though it tumbles from its peak and shatters into a thousand pieces upon the earth, light presses on in hope that someday another sun may rise. The fire may rage out of control and consume the last tangible hope, but tears quench the fire. Not tears of sorrow or self-pity, but tears of a joy that wanders beyond the last horizon, tears of hope.
After the flames have scorched the land, from the sky fall the tears of Lecräesa.
~~~
I'm insecure with this because I feel like 1) it's not as powerful as it could be 2) I'm repeating the same words over and over again and 3) too much description?
Hopefully it's more touching within the context of this story. 
