Breaking Down the Wall of the Faithless

by Shebagirl

Leona the ranger pulls all the Neverwinter Nights 2 Characters together for another assault on the Wall of the Faithless. The story takes place after all of the NWN2 expansions, and directly after my story "The Rescue of Casavir." There are a lot of both romance and battles. I do not own the rights to Neverwinter Nights' characters or backstories.

"Is it me, or does the magic seem stronger every time we come here?" Gann rolled over in the mid-day sun, feeling the boat rock against the shore.

"Stronger. Definitely." Neeshka stretched out next to him, arm and tail draping over his back. "Or maybe it's just us."

"Can't say I mind."

"Nope."

Their final day banked on the island that housed the Manor of the Sirens was upon them. When dusk fell, they planned to sneak in one final time, retrieve Leona and Casavir, and sail away, never to return. The first time they came here, Gann and Neeshka bonded over being the only ones immune to the Island's magic; the second time they came together as lovers. This time, the magic was in their pores. It was just this side of dangerous, and since they knew they wouldn't be back a fourth time, they were free to revel. A fourth time, and they would make mistakes. The Island would own them. This had to be their last visit.

"We'd better make the most of it."

"Yep, we'd better."

Below decks, Safiya was reading a book while Sand smoked a pipe, looking out a small window above the cabin's bed. The magic was affecting them too, even though both were reserved by nature. At the moment they were enjoying a brief moment of non-sexual companionship.

Sand frowned. "Gann is here for a reason."

Safiya rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Sand. I know the guy. Gann blows with the wind. He's at once calculating and impulsive. In two years I haven't figured him out."

Sand continued as if she hadn't spoken. "He cares for Leona, yes. But he seems strangely purposeful."

"I've long since given up trying to figure out his motives. Let's just say I'm glad he's on our side."

Sand turned to her. "Will he ask for payment?"

Safiya put her book down. "I doubt it. Usually he negotiates up front. Unless he's interested in something that's not gold. Which is likely, come to think of it. Do you not trust him?"

"It's not that, exactly. I just wonder where we all are headed, and if he'll be steering the ship once this journey is done."

Safiya sighed. "This erotic magic is really starting to get bothersome."

"Should I take offense?"

"Not at all, dear. I'll finish my book tomorrow. And now?"

"We'd better make the most of it."

"Yep. We'd better."

By the following dawn, Leona and Casavir were safely secured and sleeping down below, and everyone was breathing deeply, relieved. Gann pointed the ship towards the Keep, smug satisfaction all over his face.

"You're up to something, I can smell it." Neeshka was crunching an apple, curled up in blankets next to the captain of the moment.

Gann smirked. "I was just thinking I really enjoyed this couples vacation of ours. You, me, Leona and Casavir, Sand and Safiya…what island will we try next?"

Neeshka laughed so hard she snorted. "Somehow I don't think any other island would be as…stimulating."

Gann waved his hand while keeping the other on the wheel. "Oh, that's all good fun. But we worked together well. I could see us taking on something else with success. Something…bigger. Couldn't you?"

Neeshka slinked over to him, letting the blankets fall. "You have something in mind."

"I do. I always have something in mind."

She wrapped her tail around him. "We're not that far out of the magic radius yet, you know."

"Come now, Neeshka, this ship isn't going to steer itself."

"Keep your hands on the wheel, then. I don't mind."

Gann smiled. "Now you have something in mind."

"May-be. But first I want to hear your sneaky plan."

"Nothing sneaky at all. I'll tell you after. I can almost guarantee that once you hear it, you'll no longer be in the mood for love."

The transition back to daily life at the Keep was difficult for Leona, but she had expected it. After she and Casavir both experienced the mindless, timeless torture of the Sirens' Manor, they valued their choices, and chose to spend much time together. But the Keep still needed a decision-maker, and Leona never neglected her duties. She retired every night mentally exhausted, but never spent a night away from Casavir. She no longer accepted missions outside of the Keep.

Casavir's adjustment was much harder. He had no duties to distract him, and was no longer as useful a fighter as he once was. But leisure time led him to sadness. If he thought on it, he knew that Leona had sacrificed a great deal for him. She traded favors for information, snuck through cities, and endured much mental torture to get him back safely. Not to mention revisiting the Manor Prison for sixteen days, just to be able to empathize with his plight. He owed her his life, his sanity, and his love. Their score wasn't even. It ate at him, and he couldn't keep busy enough to distract himself from the facts.

Leona made him an assistant, to deal in Keep-area squabbles, and that helped a little. She felt his talents were wasted, but he made no move to practice fighting again, and she never asked him to. Paladins were by nature charming and persuasive, and many never fought battles and still elicited great social good. Casavir spent a lot of time at the Temple of Tyr, and she never asked about that either. But as time went on, cracks formed in their uneasy balance. They both knew they couldn't do without each other, for they had shared too much too deeply. Yet day-to-day, they had less and less in common. Leona's usefulness was apparent at the Keep. Her presence was essential. Casavir did much to support her, but as a worker he was replaceable. He felt as small as his contribution, and guilt wove its way back into his demeanor. Yet they could never be apart for long. Their demons drove them to each other, and each was the other's only solace.

After months of the charade-by-day and closeness-by-night, something shifted Casavir's balance. He had a long morning ahead of hearing local squabbles, and the third one of the day involved a property line between two farms of corn. The two farmers could not agree no matter what Casavir proposed, and despite his commanding presence and charming words, they came to blows. As he stepped between them, easily taller and broader than each, Casavir found himself nonetheless weaker, barely able to contain their physical rage. His muscles remembered their movements, but could barely execute them. Eventually raising his voice and subduing the men with words instead of fists, he sent them away with a solution neither liked. Like the duty-bound Paladin he was, he finished his appointments for the day, and then sat at his table in the dark, thinking about the two men, the fists, his body that longed to be the weapon it once was.

Until this day, he'd had no desire to show physical prowess anymore. His duty to his city and his God could and did take other forms. But today, he realized that the farmers didn't view him with the respect he once commanded. Pity that it took his armor and hammer to garner the respect, and yet…he had worked towards something, once. He had been useful for something. His body ached, suddenly, to again be of use at more than pretty talk. His restless energy had returned, with no outlet. Casavir stood up suddenly and headed for the pub.

Khelgar was as usual seated at the back right table, with a rotating group of friends and allies. As it was Wednesday, Neeshka was there, and Gann looked as if he'd just arrived. A smattering of dwarves and other creatures gathered around the table to play cards, recount stories, or tell jokes. Khelgar's table was always the loudest. Casavir figured they probably spent the most money, too. He wondered in passing if Duncan – the barkeep and Leona's uncle – paid Khelgar to be there, just to bring in other folk. He was that social, and that entertaining.

Casavir quietly seated himself on the periphery of the table, knowing he wouldn't be invisible for long. Once he was recognized Khelgar put up a chair closer to himself, and started bragging about their battles together. "This right 'ere is the finest man I ever fought next to. I ne'er had to worry when Casavir was by my side. What a soldier the man had in 'em, the likes of ye will never know."

Gann smiled. "I notice you say 'the finest man' you ever fought with. Leona was better than both of you, was she not?"

The table roared with laughter, and Casavir bowed his head. Listen to them. They speak of me in past tense. No one will ever know what a soldier I had in me. As Khelgar slapped his back, taking his downed head for modesty, Casavir reminded himself that that was why he was here in the first place. Not ever known for his mumbling, he spoke rather softly in the loud pub.

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I want to begin sparring again. I came to see when you are available."

The jokes and barbs continued, everyone now placing wagers and cracking puns. As Khelgar thought through his ale-muddled head about his sparring schedule, Casavir noticed Gann's eyes on him. Gann always looked somewhat misplaced wherever he went, and it wasn't just the light blue tinge to his skin. He took in nuances of speech and posture that others didn't, so his reactions were always unique. He alone, at the loud table, studied Casavir with level eyes.

Gann kept his eyes on Casavir as he said to Neeshka, "The man has great heart. I would not have expected this announcement to come so soon."

Neeshka took a long swig of ale. "Khelgar's not lyin' when he says about Casavir's fighting. He was a powerhouse. It's in his blood. Of course he'd be going back to it."

Casavir was not a man to shuffle in his seat, but with Gann's eyes on him and their discussing him like he wasn't there, he started to get uncomfortable. Gann spoke again. "Yes, Neeshka, but all the same. Just a few months. Outstanding. You looking for a purpose, Paladin?"

Casavir kept the eye contact. "What are you driving at, Gannayev?"

Gann looked away finally, studying the bar's artwork on the walls as if never having seen it before. "Nothing at all, nothing at all. Let's just say I am very pleased indeed that you're back on the proverbial fighting horse."

"How does my sparring with Khelgar benefit you in the least?"

"It doesn't. Unless it so happens one day that we have goals in common. Then it would benefit me very much indeed."

Leona sighed as she looked out her window, down on the Knight Captain's courtyard. Casavir was down there, shooting arrows at a straw man. She couldn't help but smile at the sight; he wasn't half bad, though it certainly wasn't his strength. In fact, she'd never seen him shoot an arrow until this very day. It was almost as if he was testing out what he might be good at, as if he were starting from scratch. Surely he must have done this when he started training as a young man?

In the past few months, Casavir had traded negotiating for sparring, taking on anyone who would have him. First it was only Khelgar, and then Bevil, the head of the Keep's army and a childhood friend of Leona's. Casavir moved on to Kana – Leona's second in command – and even his old companion Katriona. Even Grizelda Mums, the new dwarf resident, had made a few appearances. Anyone who could fight hand-to-hand had put him through his paces. Everyone, except her.

Leona sighed again. She could tell Casavir had regained almost all his muscle memory. Two years away from training had robbed him mostly of speed and muscle mass, but before that he'd trained for years with Neverwinter's elite. Those skills don't just disappear, she thought. If he kept training like this, he'd be back to his old self in no time – maybe better, for his focus was undistracted. But why hadn't he called upon her to train with him as well?

As she rose and moved from the window, Leona thought what a cliché they'd become. She had moved Heaven and earth to return him home. Before their long separation while he was in the Manor Prison, they had together endured unspeakable horrors during their battles. The war was endless and fast-paced, and she realized now they'd never even talked about those days, let alone what happened while they were apart. Let alone their future. It was a strange sort of trap: they were bound together by intertwined demons, and they would never part. Because they both felt bound to each other – even though they chose to be – neither of them really bothered to put any work into their relationship.

Leona grabbed her bow and her greatsword, and headed to the training yard.

Casavir never liked using a bow. But back when he was trained to be at his finest, he could use every weapon with some facility. He felt the sudden need to master the craft just as he once had. It just never felt natural to him. His body was too bulky, his chest too broad, his blood too impatient. He felt like he had to wait forever for the shot. And, standing back from an enemy was not his way.

All the same, he waited, listening to his breath as he was taught. As he tried to calm his arms, which were aching to drop the bow and grab his hammer of choice, an arrow whizzed past his ear towards the target, landing where the heart of the straw man would be. Now that Bishop was gone and dead, there was only one person here who could have made that shot. He turned around with a joint expression of pride and envy. Mostly, pride.

"Captain."

Leona was resting her bow against the side of the yard, and then she turned to him, smiled, and drew her sword. "Casavir. It's been too long." She spoke like someone who hadn't seen him in years – but on the battlefield, she hadn't. "I got tired of waiting for an invitation."

Casavir's expression grew grim as he walked to the side and deposited his bow. "As with all things, Leona, I am waiting to be worthy of being your partner."

"In the waiting there is wasted time. Now or never, Paladin."

Casavir grabbed a hammer and shield, his serious face quirking at the lips. "I will say only once that you must already know I'm not at my best."

"This is a relief, then. I was never able to best you. I thanked the Gods nightly you were on our side, and not the Shadows'."

Though she meant it as a kindness, she realized it was the wrong thing to say as his face darkened. Probably thinking of Bishop again, who changed sides several times in the War. Though, luckily, she never had to fight against Bishop, either. And now, she never would. Bishop was fighting alongside them both when he died, at least on the right side when the end came. Not that it mattered, because the Wall…

Leona shook her head. Not today. I see The Wall of the Faithless enough in my nightmares. Today I focus and fight. She cocked her head. "Look how easily you are distracted from your task."

Casavir took two long strides and was suddenly upon her. Truth be told, they didn't spar much during the Shadow Wars. Khelgar was a better match for him when on the road, and like it or not, Bishop was a more even match for her skills to practice on. As a ranger like she was, he could match both arrows and swords. Why did he keep coming up whenever she was around Casavir? There was no comparison, really: a fling and a love. A death and a newfound life. All this swimming in her head, plus Casavir's somewhat new fighting style, made her concentration waiver as she blocked and parried, and rarely found space to charge. One thing she had more of now, though, was grace. Casavir was still too wide in movement, wasting energy on swings and jumps. Fighting alongside Gann and Safiya had taught Leona economy of movement, as well as quickness. Just when she thought she would exhaust herself looking for an opening, she saw it, and swept Casavir's legs out with one of her own. He went down but kept shield and hammer up, blocking her access to his vitals. But as he fell, she went up, so that she landed on his upper, unprotected side, sword over his ear. He smiled.

"You have improved greatly."

"It's the variety. Gann and Griz, mostly."

Casavir nodded as he waved off the hand up she offered. "The more partners, the better the skill."

Leona smirked up at him. "After the Manor Prison, I could say the same of you."

He stretched his limbs. "I hope I can be lover and fighter both. What do I owe you for besting me so gracefully?"

"An ale would be welcome. I've been up in that office room all day. This workout felt just right."

Casavir shook his head, with a rare joke on his tongue. "Ah, that's all I am to this fine warrior: a workout. I certainly have to practice more, then."

"Make that two ales," said Leona, as they washed up and crossed the square to Uncle Duncan's pub.

Though it had been a long day for Leona, it had been a light day for everyone else, and most of their companions had been at the pub for some time. She pulled up seats next to Safiya and Sand, and Duncan, always happy to see his neice, brought them ales as soon as they sat down. Casavir gently slid his towards Leona; he didn't drink ale. Immediately they talked about sparring, and Neeshka started to pout that Casavir hadn't gotten around to sparring with her yet.

"'Tis 'Cause you cheat at cards, woman. He can't trust ye and yer little daggers, is why!" Khelgar roared with laughter at his own joke, and Neeshka crossed her arms like a little girl. Casavir, ever charming, reached across to put his hand towards her arm. He never really touched her, because she was quite literally allergic to his holy energy. But he said, "Tomorrow. Dawn. Bring all your daggers." Neeshka went from sour to sweet in an instant, and swished her tail in approval. Then Safiya asked how Casavir found Leona's skills to have changed since before the Shadow Wars.

He glanced over at her with admiration. "She's much faster. Lighter on her feet. Used to be that she was a second line of defense, after the hand-to-hand heavies. Now, she could be on both the front line with the fighters and the far line with the archers. She's a perfectly well-rounded fighter."

Everyone nodded respect and approval; most at the table knew what a fighter Casavir had been, and what high praise this was. His love for Leona would not cloud his assessment of her fighting skills, and they knew it.

Khelgar spoke up, elbowing Grizelda next to him. "I suppose last year with Griz in front of ye, you didn't have to be the heavy, eh? Maybe ye missed it after a year with these softies." He gestured to Safiya and Gann, who were primarly magic users, though Gann was very good with a staff or small sword.

Safiya shook her head. "No, Leona never had to be our heavy, because of Okku."

Casavir and Khelgar said at the same time, "Who is Okku?"

Then several things happened at once. Gann, Safiya, Neeska, Grizelda, and Sand all got the same looks on their faces, and all turned to look at Leona. Their unspoken question was, why in the world have you never mentioned Okku? Leona didn't know where to look, unsettled by all the questioning eyes, so she looked down into her ale.

"Okku was the bear who journeyed with Safiya and Gann and me. He was a retired bear God. He'd known the very first man faced with the spirit-eater's curse, and accompanied us to finish it once and for all."

Casavir looked confused. "He was a bear? Like your Honus? Did he communicate?"

"He was a lost king, a reanimated spirit called by his descendants to end their suffering at the hands of the curse. He could talk, yes, and he was very wise. He was loyal and fierce and huge and colorful –"

At the description, Leona choked up. She missed Okku, though he wasn't a cozy friend like her familiar Honus was. But Honus definitely missed Okku. Okku was so big that Honus used to ride on his back into battle sometimes. But what choked her up the most was that she, too, couldn't figure out why she'd never mentioned him. It occurred to her, then, that she and Casavir barely spoke at all about the past. How was it that Grizelda, her traveling companion of only 1 year, knew all about Okku – and Casavir, her life's love, knew not even his name?

Casavir looked at her, baffled. "Why have you never spoken of him? Did it end badly between you?"
"Quite the contrary. He went back into sleep, ready to awake when called or needed. To say he was our heavy is an understatement. We wouldn't have gotten out from the City of Judgment without him." She paused, aware that no one was going to say anything else. "I never spoke of him for the same reason I never speak of anything from that time. The memory is painful. I find myself unable to forget it no matter how I try."

Gann leaned back. "Now we're getting to it."

Neeshka swished her tail. "Not tonight, Gann. Looks like they have other fish to fry first."

Suddenly everyone around them moved as if taking a hint, and decided on an early night. Leona and Casavir found themselves in the unlikely position of being alone together at Khelgar's table in the pub.

Leona sighed. "Why don't we order more ale. I think we might be here a while."

Casavir leaned back in his chair and squinted, as if to see her more clearly. "There is so much you haven't told me. Why?"

"This is a strange question, Casavir. In truth, we barely speak to each other at all. I come to you at night like a flower needing rain, but beyond that…why haven't we told each other anything at all, really?"

"For my part, it's not lack of willingness. Ask me and I will tell you. I keep no secrets from you, not anymore."

Leona leveled her eyes at him and straightened up to her full height in the chair. "You sure about that?"

"Of course."

She gripped her ale with both hands. "All right then, while we're asking. Why don't you tell me what happened that night with Horatio."

Casavir made no sound, but his eyes widened as far as they could go. To his credit, he showed no other emotion. His default setting was stoic, and there he stayed.

"Who told you about Horatio." Casavir stated his question, instead of asked it, and Leona was strangely comforted to hear his tone: he used to talk like that all the time, before the Manor Prison softened his edges.

Horatio was the man he was accused of murdering, years before they'd met. It was why he was taken to the Manor Prison without a trial, and also the reason he left his training with the Neverwinter Guard. When Leona met him, he was a rogue fighter far outside the city.

"It was Ophala who told me. Sand and I went to the Moonstone Mask to consult with her on your whereabouts. I had no idea you two had been lovers, by the way, and you know I don't care. After all we've been through…it was a lifetime ago. None of that needs explanation."

"There you are wrong, I think. Did Ophala tell you why Horatio was even there that night? Surely some of the story is missing."

Leona suddenly kicked herself for being so naïve. It actually hadn't occurred to her that Ophala would leave out something incriminating, something inconsequential to her search. She was so focused on the details of the prison and Casavir's relationship with Luskan that deception never crossed her mind.

"She told me that Horatio bribed someone to find out your location, when you were with the Corps of Eighty-One. She said she didn't know what happened, but she wouldn't have put it past him to have put the knife into himself. She said he was very bad and you were very good."

"Well that much was true. That much was definitely true. He was beyond bad, and I was far too good."

"That's almost exactly, word-for-word what she said."

There was a pause, and Leona didn't want to push. She'd started with the hardest question first, and knew this would be difficult to disclose.

"Yes, I was with the Corps."

"Quite an honor, by the way." From the Corps of Eighty-One came the Neverwinter Nine, the highest rank of knight in the land. Casavir waved the compliment away as if it was superficial.

"Horatio came to tell me that with my leaving, he would have full control over Ophala."

"So?"

"This included her finances, her business, her contracts, and her secrets. As you can imagine, she had many."

"No doubt."

"He said he had means of keeping her from her investments, as well as exposing all her dealings. His plan was to ruin her, steal her assets, and walk away scot-free. I couldn't let that happen."

"But didn't you know it was a set-up? Why would he come all that way just to tell you?"

"Oh, it was quite real. He didn't even mention her connection to me, which could hurt my standing in the Corps. He knew I wouldn't care about that. He thought…he thought I would be bound to service, and could not leave to warn her. He thought he would torture me as I was bound to my Corps. He was part-right; security is tight in the Corps, and soldiers do not come and go as they please. By the time I could get a dispensation for release, Ophala would have been ruined. He couldn't resist boasting his perfect crime to me."

"So he wanted to gloat, to make you suffer knowing you were powerless to help her."

"I think he never imagined I would – that I would snap the way I did – the soldiers were goading us – he knew he would never best me in a fight. So he used words, he – talked of what he would do to her. Mentally, physically. It was vile. He crossed the line, and then so did I."

Leona swam in the silence, savoring the moment before she had to ask the question. It came out in a small voice, hollow and fearful. "Did you kill him?"

"Oh, yes. I did. Had he lived, he'd not have rested until he ruined her and me."

Leona nodded. She didn't feel particularly sorry for Horatio – he sounded despicable. The murder, even, didn't surprise her. They were adventurers by trade. And adventurers are killers. Neither of them would hesitate in a fight. And there he was, training in the Corps – they were training to be assassins, of a sort. That he brought death to someone else wasn't a shocker.

But at the time, Casavir was young, ambitious, and honorable. He wanted to serve his King, not be a rogue soldier fighting orcs in remote country – which was where he was when she found him. His voice broke her reverie.

"Leona. I knew at that moment my life was over as a soldier of Neverwinter. If I let him go, eventually I'd have to step down. He'd have planted evidence, bribed a criminal, something. There was no going back.

"But for Ophala…she had more life ahead of her. She had seen her pub through a war already, and established herself as an upstanding citizen. She put a lot of work into appearing honorable. I suffered either way, but I spared her the same. I wanted her to thrive."

Leona shook her head and smiled sadly. "So very like a Paladin. A finer soldier never walked in that Corps. This much I know."

"My loyalty was to the wrong thing. I was unfit to serve the city."

"Lord Nasher seemed to disagree."

"Eventually, perhaps. And he didn't reinstate me, remember. He only allowed me pardon, years later, because I helped you at Old Owl Well. You were my redemption, Leona."

Bishop was right about one thing, Leona thought. For all his honor, Casavir bends to love, when he has to choose between the two. He gave up his station for Ophala, and found redemption with me. And now that he is pledged to both Tyr and me, what if we are on opposite sides one day?

"Does Ophala know what you did for her?"

"Come to think of it, I doubt it. Maybe she was telling the truth after all. Though it's equally likely she made him think he could ruin her, just to see what I would do. Or hoped he would run too close to danger and someone would get him out of the way. I'm sure, though, she never imagined it would be me. I can't expect her to regret. My choices were my own."

"She speaks highly and fondly of you."

"I am glad to hear it." He looked troubled, a lovesick youth all over again. Despite Leona's natural pang of jealousy, she felt for him, and remembered what she owed.

Leona took a breath. "On this note, in light of what she told me I offer you an apology. I never knew that – I never imagined that my time with Bishop would cut you so. I didn't realize I was replaying a painful part of your past. I never meant to –"

"I know."

"I never purposely played him against you. Never. I made choices I felt entitled to. That was all. And you handled yourself with such poise during that time, and I can't imagine the hell. I want you to know I recognize that now."

"You said once you wouldn't trade your time with him."

"Yes."

"Is that still the case, then?"

Leona shifted her legs, but told the truth. "Yes. My regrets are in my lack of discretion, not my indulgences."

To her surprise, he smiled at her. "Well-said. You are not the woman she was, Leona. You are candid, and you are honorable. And," he winced, "it pains me to admit that Bishop is not the man Horatio was, either. Bishop was disrespectful, untrustworthy, and selfish." He said this as if spitting each word, as if he had to stop himself from saying more and worse. "But I –"

Leona waited, each second as if sitting on needles.

"I do believe he cared for you, in his way. Horatio never cared for another living soul. And perhaps that's why seeing you with Bishop was such torture. Whatever small tenderness he allowed, he allowed it just for you. I was envious that he gave so much to you, and frightened of how it might sway your heart."

Leona put her hand on his arm. "I cared for Bishop a great deal. But I never loved him. If it matters to you to know."

"I hate to admit, but it does."

Leona closed her eyes and swayed in her seat. She was tired.

"Leona. If anything, Bishop made me open to you. He raised the stakes. His actions led me to vulnerability. I never thought I could thank him for leading me there."

"And he would never have accepted such a thanks." She opened her eyes, sorting through the dead and the living. "You know, sometimes I look at you and I still can't believe you are living flesh, and by my side. Two years is a long time to think someone dead."

"I know. Let's leave here, and be alive together."

"Yes. Let's."

Gann watched Casavir and Khelgar sparring from high above the practice area. His face changed expressions often, like someone reading a book: wincing sometimes, smiling sometimes, but mostly full of concentration.

Neeshka joined him. "What 'ya lookin' for down there?"

Gann didn't turn his head when he addressed her, acting as if she hadn't spoken. "What does he look like, as a fighter, compared to the man you knew?"

She watched for a few silent seconds, then spoke. "He looks…sleeker. Funny, he's…more controlled. Like he can focus better, or something. I'd think the opposite, given his lazy bones for two years, but…I don't know how to explain it. He makes it look easy, now. Before he looked like no one could ever match him. He's still good, but he is almost…not playful, never that…I can't explain it, Gann."

Gann smiled. "Better lovers make better fighters."

"Gann…" Neeshka began. "I mean, they finally have peace. You can't think they'd want to –"

"Nonsense, Neeshka, they don't have peace. They have an uneasy truce, and a lot of guilt. They'll never be happy unless they accomplish something big together, side by side. You know that."

"Sure, right. 'Cause you're doing it all for them."

Gann smiled again. "Nah. You and I are in the same boat, really. I'm doing it also for us."

Casavir wandered home with tired limbs, to find Leona still at her desk. Usually by dark she was relaxed for the night, but with the change in harvest, work was piling up, and she'd sent a few of her best men to scout to the East so she was short a few hands. Casavir immediately felt guilt for quitting his position and training each day instead. He seemed never to be of use to her, and yet still didn't know what she wanted from him.

"You're almost done? Can I assist?"

"Just about done, yes. Just two more letters in the stack."

"I've been thinking…"

Leona looked up, quill-pen in hand. Casavir didn't usually trail off sentences; he was direct and to the point, never unsure of his speech. He was leaning against the wall like a school boy. She waited.

"I want to know of the things you won't speak of."

Leona sighed. "The Wall?"

"The Wall."

"Can it wait?"

"No."

She didn't question his urgency. Instead she rubbed her eyes, and leaned back from the letters. "Directly after the Battle with the Shadow Lord, I was cursed as a Spirit Eater. I could only survive by devouring the souls of others."

Casavir stayed still and silent, not moving a hair from his stance against the wall. Even without what happened after, Leona's surviving a curse was a great feat. His eyes stayed steady on her.

"When I woke after the battle, I was underground, in that foreign land, with stitches across my chest and a spiritual hunger I could never control."

"They helped you conquer it."

"They? Safiya, Gann, and Okku, yes. Sometimes they helped me feed it. I would eat the souls of our enemies, and sometimes they'd take me over. It was horrible. I was never content. It was like having legs in your chest that always had to run. All of our adventures meant nothing. Just like you can't enjoy a thing when you're too hungry. It was torture. For almost a full year we followed leads and learned the story of the first Spirit Eater, cursed because he defied the Wall."

Casavir nodded slightly. "Oh, the Spirit-Eater. Akachi. I know the legend."

Leona looked surprised, but remembered what a man of faith and history Casavir was. Of course he would know these stories. "You knew of this?"

"Of course. The Faceless Man. You shared his fate, for a time?"

"I did. I met him. And then defeated him and sent him to his peace."

A long silence bloomed as Casavir's eyes widened. He opened his mouth several times to speak, and finally said, "If you were not my lover, I would kneel down in front of you right now, and praise your service to the Gods."

Leona shook her head wildly, tears seeping through eyelids just a little. "Oh no, Dear. Oh, no. I was on Akachi's side. I too tried to tear down the Wall."

"I know this."

"My own soul was ripped from me and placed on the Wall of the Faithless. For a full year." She paused, catching her breath, trying not to think about it even as she spoke. "It is a vile thing."

"It serves a purpose."

"Standing there in front of it, I could not see any."

"Leona, you know this well. There must be a punishment for not having faith."

"Why?" She held his gaze, as strong an emotion as a zealot.

"WHY? Because – because – faith is what drives us to do right by the world."

Leona paused. She knew that Casavir, man of faith for so long, couldn't undo his teachings in one conversation. But she knew he saw his own fault in logic, and she had barely even pushed him. She knew this would be a difficult moment for him.

"And yet," she said, "with no faith left in the Manor prison, you still did right." He didn't speak, though he did look sad. He wasn't convinced he had done right. But she kept on. "And yet, we know many Faithless, who do right by others day after day. Do they truly deserve such a cruel forever, for not sharing our faith?"

Casavir was verbally trapped. Gannayev, for example, was a good man, and had kept his Leona safe when he couldn't. It was a cruel twist of fate. Tyr himself had shown mercy to all people. Neeshka was also faithless, as was Safiya, who seemed nice enough.

What's more: of course he'd always struggled with his own worth. How could he think himself worthy, simply for having worshipped Tyr – when he had committed more sins than the average faithless man? Warrior killings? Escape into sex? Murder?

In a small voice he said, "Those on the Wall did not choose to repent, like we do."

And in a stronger voice Leona said, "It's not called the Wall of the Unrepentant, Casavir. It's the Wall of the Faithless. The God of the Dead does not separate the repentant ones. Look at Bishop." Bishop wasn't faithless, yet he wound up at the Wall, even though he had repented his evil deeds before he died. For the first time Casavir felt maybe there were shades of gray to justice. He felt his whole body sway. Leona's words toppled his foundation with an easy shove.

She choked on her last words, not wanting to say any more, but then added, "It's a horror."

Casavir turned on his heel and left the room, saying no more. Leona gave him space. She knew Paladains – Casavir most especially among them – could be self-righteous. Maybe that's why he left: because he was angry at her for disagreeing with a common faithful tenet. But she feared that he stormed off because he heard logic in her words. She feared that, yet again, she was about to turn him upside down.

Leona had learned over the years to put just about anything aside when work called. Being a Captain of an entire Keep requires it. She shook her head, sat forward in her chair, and repeated, "Just two more letters." She would stay until the work was done – and for the first time since returning from the Prison, she was sure she would be in bed alone after that.

Casavir headed straight for the Temple, head pounding with blasphemy. It was all too easy to discount nonbelievers until you met someone who had actually seen them suffer. Many of them had probably been good people. "Being good is Sufficient," he remembered from his teachings. "But being faithful is Necessary." He recited it now, like a mantra. If he'd learned anything from his days in the Eighty-One – which he'd been thinking of after telling Leona the tale of Horatio – it's that theory and practice are so very different. Real life is so messy. Real life is so…Gray. The only time life wasn't gray was in the Manor. He hated himself for missing its clarity, its ease. Sex, rather than meditation, was still what cleared his head. Casavir resented that his needs as a Man overrode his needs as a Soul.

And yet, he turned around, away from the Temple, and marched at the same pace back to his room, to Leona.

Leona's last two letters took longer than she expected – the last, of course, required an instant reply – and she shuffled back to her chamber weary but gratified. It was well dark, and she unlocked the door and stepped in. She reached to fuel the blue-flamed lamplight that Safiya kept charged for her. But before her hand got to it, a bigger arm pushed the door shut and her against it in a heavy blow. Leona's instincts took over, and she raised her knee to the man, arm ready to jam his chin up and release his hold. But as if he read her thoughts, he backed away first, and in that split second she saw it was her lover. He came back against her just as fiercely, again. Leona was thinking back to the first time they made love; he started out aggressive and broken. Still, after all their strange time apart and together, his lovemaking tempo varied with his daily mood. Maybe that's true for everyone, she thought. But tonight he has reason to be agitated. She had another split second to wonder why he was here and not at the Temple, but he was already upon her.

The first time he'd done this, after she'd been with Bishop, she was afraid, and he was hurting her. This time, she knew him better, and despite his open demons she did not fear him. So instead of pushing him away, she let herself be pinned to the door, and returned his advances with the same potency, showing him in actions that she was up to the task.

Of course, she thought suddenly. This is, now, what makes his world right. He must despise that fact. She knew how much self-loathing he'd go through later, tomorrow, this week. But she didn't stop him. Instead, she encouraged him. She as woman managed to be the release the man needed. The air around them was charged and frantic, as two people will create after having been through a war together. They clung to each other as if they had just learned they'd survived. Leona had a moment of clarity to smile at the thought: they had fought one war together, and never indeed had celebrated both surviving it. Instead they were thrust right into new battles, without each other. That night, they were as they should have been after the War of Shadows: proud, relieved, frantic. It was the love they should have made over two years before. It was an end and a beginning, and they both pushed away the sinking feeling that they would be very much afraid when the sun rose again. But until then, they had the night, and they made it very much their own.

The next morning Leona stretched and yawned, sore all over as if she'd trained. Her fuzzy head confused the day: hadn't she been at the desk yesterday? It wasn't a training day. Why was she…

And then she remembered. The darkness, needy Casavir, their talk of the Faithless. Of course he was already gone. And, she cursed into his empty spot. Today was a training day. But it was magic training. She was strengthening some spells with Safiya. If she ate well this morning her body just might make it through the day.

When she arrived at the magic area of the training center, Sand was just leaving, and he raised a friendly eyebrow at her upon his exit. She was surprised to see Deekin, the kobold owner of the local shop, in the area as well. She knew he knew some powerful spells; would she be working with him today? Other than Safiya, Neeshka, and Gann, he was the fourth Faithless she came into daily contact with. Ironic, given her talk of last night. She saw them as no different or less worthy, but today she pitied Deekin a little, for what he would face someday when he died.

Safiya stepped back to let him speak. He seemed nervous. "Deekin wonders if you train with Mister Gann very much."

"Not really. Sparring, sometimes. His magic skills are unique, and there's not much I can learn from him. Unfortunately. Why do you ask, Deekin?"

"Deekin notices that Mister Gann buys a lot of stock-up herbs and potions. Like he's going on a journey."

Leona tried to process why this would be a problem. Gann was self-serving to the end. He was probably stocking his stores in case of a shortage or something. Then he'd resell them at a profit. "Do you think he wants to open a shop?"

"Oh, no. Deekin thinks he wants to take a trip."

Safiya stepped in. "I did want Deekin here to train with you. But when he mentioned this to me, it seemed important. You remember how we always had to keep one step ahead of Gann. No offense, Leona. I know you care – cared – for him. It's just that…"

"I understand."

Safiya never backed down from a conversation, even though Leona's cold voice might have shut others down. "It's just that…I don't know Neeshka all that well, but…"

Leona put her hand up. "Say no more. Point taken. Let's get to work."

At the end of the day, Leona left a note for Casavir and headed to the pub. She knew she'd find Gann there, and he had some explaining to do. And she needed to unwind after the stress of the night before. The intimacy was freeing in its intensity, but it still had been an emotional night, and she had nightmares again about the Wall. It had been a long time, but still…she hated to think she would live her whole life this way. Some days all she could think about was how many souls joined the Wall that same day. It haunted her quite literally.

Sure enough, Gann and Neeshka were there, along with Khelgar and surprisingly, Grizelda, Leona's companion after the Spirit-Eater days. She sat down with an ale beside Gann, and looked at him with a smile. He whipped his long hair to the back, and spoke first.

"That's what I've always liked about you, Leona. Many people shy away from me when they encounter me. Oh, I know I am attractive. But I am so appealing that I am repellant. People are troubled by their own reactions to me."

Leona looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I do remember seeing that happen many times. But I am actually here, specifically, to talk to you."

Gann inclined his head. "What can I do for you, Lady Captain?"

Neeshka snickered, and turned her head away.

"Why are you hoarding herbs and potions?"

For a slight moment, Gann looked taken aback. As this was very rare, Leona reveled in his surprise, but his recovery was quick and his smug expression returned. "I am preparing for a possible eventuality."

Leona rolled her eyes. "That tells me nothing."

"Saw through that, did 'ye? He thinks he's sly, that one." Khelgar chimed in with a guffaw, then turned back to Grizelda.

"Come on, Gann. This is my Keep and you are, in effect, a guest. I trust you are not making trouble here."

Gann pretended offense. "Me? Cause trouble?" Neeshka snickered again, and Gann got serious. "No, Leona, I am not intending to corner the market. And I am not planning a coup. I am, in fact, planning for a very long trip, that may or may not come to pass."

Leona looked skeptical, and cocked her head. "Why not wait until you know, before spending gold on the items?"

"Because if I go, I will need a great deal, and I will need time to amass it. And time is passing now."

She hesitated. Of course she had many questions: where to? When? With whom? Why? But Gann was being vague, and she doubted she would get any more answers. She asked only, "Do you need me?" She was in effect asking if he was in danger, and he knew it.

He met her eyes, and held them. Not since they'd been lovers had they shared a look like that. It was a look so intense that Neeshka narrowed her eyes. And then he said what she was dreading, hoping not to hear.

"Yes."

Under other circumstances – say, even a few days ago – for Casavir to walk in on that look and that dialogue would have been inopportune. Leona and Gann had been lovers for a full year while he was presumed dead; and those around them, if they'd thought of it, would have noticed that she and Casavir were merely feigning closeness, most of the time. Tonight, Casavir arrived at just that awkward moment, and sat beside Leona, immediately making physical contact. This was rare for Casavir in public. It was not a possessive gesture; rather that he couldn't help but touch her if he was near her, and Gann, a quick study of human nature, noted it immediately. Casavir had missed the beginning of the conversation, and giving his lover the benefit of the doubt, asked the obvious: "Have you gotten into some kind of trouble, Gannayev?" He assumed their exchange was about war, not love, and he was right.

Gann smiled, dodging the question. "Well, well, all finally looks golden in paradise."

Leona frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"So you two finally picked up where you left off, did you?"

Casavir shifted in his chair. Leona said, "I don't get it."

"He means," said Casavir, "that you and I have come to better terms than ever since the Shadow Wars."

She narrowed her eyes. "How could you know that? And –" she turned to Casavir " – is that even true?"

Gann laughed, and Neeshka laughed. Leona felt like a monkey in a zoo, and didn't like it. "WHAT?" She said a little too loudly, and Grizelda instantly locked on to her. She'd spent the better part of a year keeping Leona out of fights, and was sensitive to her temper flares.

Gann continued, like the shrewd strategist he was. "To answer your question Casavir, I am not in trouble. There is a quest I want to pursue. It is dangerous; it is beyond dangerous; it is probably folly. Yet I will attempt it. I am going to attempt it in spite of any of you, though of course you would be very, very welcome to join me. I have a funny feeling that many of you will."

Khelgar's ears pricked up at the mention of the word "dangerous." There was silence at the table, though the pub was loud, and Gann relished having the floor. He paused, a very long time, for effect. Probably too long, because Grizelda slammed her fists on the table and made everybody jump. "Out with it, blue one!" Grizelda didn't have much of a temper, but she was very impatient.

Gann took a deep breath – just to show the table that he controlled the discussion – and then he finally spoke. "I am going to dismantle the Wall of the Faithless."

Gann wished Deekin the Bard had been there to record every reaction at the table. Neeshka, of course, leaned back with a satisfied smile. She'd waited a long time to hear him share his plans with others, and now that it was out, they could get on with it. Khelgar threw his head back and roared with laughter. Grizelda rolled her eyes but they showed a twinkle; Khelgar's laughter could be quite contagious. Leona blinked and her eyes got wide, eyebrows arching to the sky. And Casavir, staunch and loyal Casavir, covered his face with his hands, rested them on the table, and let out a fully defeated sigh.

Leona had to admit that was not what she expected Gann to say. She was dumbfounded as he continued, though she wasn't sure anyone was really listening anymore. But on he went. "I am willing to bet that I can wake Okku for the cause. You remember he was mighty upset that we had to leave the Wall as it was. He knows more than most about the passage of time and how creatures change over it. And he knows that some of the best civilizations were faithless."

Gann continued. "I have no love for the Gods – never have. I'd been looking for a way to stick it to Them for a long time. They deserve to be taken down a peg. They need to know that people can get by without Them. In respecting us They will earn more respect from us. When They know we have a choice without punishment, our choice of Gods will carry more weight, will be worth something to Them. What good is getting people to honor you if their only other option is eternal suffering? It's blackmail, plain and simple, and it's gone on too long."

Grizelda frowned. "Strangely, you make a really good point," she said. Gann inclined his head in thanks.

Everyone knew Casavir would speak eventually. "The problem with that argument is that the inverse also applies. What good is choosing a faith if there is no incentive to do so?"

"Come now, Casavir, you know well incentive and punishment aren't the same thing. What good is choosing a faith? Incentive. Look at all you've gotten from Tyr. He Himself has guided you through harsh times. You have received plenty for your faith. We don't need to tack on 'because you won't face eternal hell.' You already got more than the Faithless, in carrots and not sticks."

Leona put her hand on Casavir's thigh. This was a more public, and yet more personal, argument than they'd had last night, and she wasn't sure how Casavir would respond here. He surprised her by leaving the philosophy alone, taking a tactical argument. "You would have to take on all the Gods at once."

"Not all, no. Just Kelemvor. We've fought him before. He will understand why we came back."

Leona felt a rising dread. To say they'd "fought" Kelemvor was overstating. Kelemvor had basically thought them away, and they were gone. No weapons would best a God, and they'd do no better this time.

But Gann had called up the very thing she knew to her bones: she would never rest while that Wall stood. He knew it, because he had been there with her, and was as unsettled as she, after seeing it and touching it. He knew as well as she did that she would go with him. She would go, because she couldn't live in a world with that Wall. Even in a world where her lover was. She knew Casavir wouldn't understand, and knew it would be the end of them. Last night they were so in sync, and that may have truly been the last night. She shook her head and said, "Oh Gann, couldn't you have given me more than one night?"

"Told ya," said Neeshka. "Should have given 'em more time, 'ya cold bastard."

He looked his coldest when he said, "Come now. It's been almost two years since that battle. Surely it's not my fault it took you this long to realize what you need."

As Casavir finally caught up and looked at her, shaken, she took his hand and stood. "Let's go. Gann. We meet in one week to discuss your plan. Over this week, you may talk to Safiya and Sand, Deekin, and anyone at this table – no one else. Except me. I don't want you to come near me for the next week."

He looked again, a little surprised. "Have I upset you that much?"

"Oh, yes, Gann. You have. But that's not why you have to stay away. It's because I need to make decisions without talking to you. Give me the space." Then her voice cracked a little when she said, full of regret, "You know you'll get the answer you want."

Gann smiled another grim smile, and nodded his head just a little. Neeshka's tail swished. Khelgar turned to Grizelda to talk about dangerous missions, and Leona and Casavir turned toward the door and left, several paces apart.

"You cannot be serious."

Leona said very little, and just kept shaking her head. She knew she would go with Gann. She knew Casavir would not go. She knew she would probably die there. But she felt her fate decided. There was no other script in her brain, so she couldn't even argue the point. It was already done.

Casavir turned away from her, and looked out the window at the Courtyard. "I spent today at the Temple." When she didn't reply, he went on. "I talked to Brother Ivarr about the Wall. He said he believed it to be a great motivator, to turn to the Gods before one needs them. This, I have always believed. And yet I couldn't dispel the image of youth everywhere walking planks with swords at their backs. We have been forced to accept our faiths. We have been manipulated into them by fear of the alternative. It made me feel…false."

Leona couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Careful, Paladin," she said. "You continue down this road and you are likely to Fall." Paladins, whose power comes from their faith, can Fall if they commit evil acts or stray from their path of piousness. He would lose all his holy power, much of his strength, and his ability to heal if the Gods decided to forsake him.

He turned to her. "I fear the same thing." Then, he turned away again.

During the silence, Leona's heart slowly broke again. They seemed to have just found each other, and how sad that now of all times, she couldn't help but leave, and he couldn't help but stay. What he just said, alone, could come with hours or days of repentant meditation. Casavir's deep voice broke her despair.

"Why do you think I did not Fall after I killed Horatio?"

"Because you retained your honor. You weren't choosing between God and love; you were choosing between city and love. What would Tyr really care?"

He considered this carefully, moving his mouth as if tasting a candy. Then he said, "And why didn't I fall, then, in the Manor Prison?"

This time, she thought through her answer carefully before speaking. This was a harder riddle. "Well, sex is not forbidden to Paladins. I assume you tried to escape. I assume you kept your devotions most of the time. You acted true to form, and the rest couldn't be helped."

"I gave in, Leona. I did not stay mentally on guard. I honored nothing."

Leona thought back to her rescue of him, how she barely recognized him at first because he was sleeping on his stomach, relaxed as warriors never are. Even now, with all the sparring, he still often slept that way. She appreciated his new softness, but was surprised too it didn't come with a price. But she didn't want to tell him that. She spoke carefully and slowly. "I think you stayed on guard as long as a man could. Longer even, than average, if you ask Ophala. I think any God would know you did your very best. Tyr perhaps saw farther down the line than you, knew the good you could do after your release."

Casavir held back a scoff. He certainly didn't feel like he was doing any good.

"Would you care to be in charge of the Keep while I'm gone?"

His eyebrows knit together. "You really are going."

"I simply have to. I can't live any other way."

Another long pause, where Casavir saw fit to change the subject by trying another tack.

"What about your chosen God Solonor? What of Him in this fight? Do you not fear being forsaken by Him?"

Leona's eyes scattered anywhere but on her lover. She had already thought it through, hundreds of times. Gann knew it, too, and knew she would go with him. "I give offerings to Solonor at every meal and every moon, as my Foster Father Daeghun taught me. To us rangers, he represents the symbiosis of the woods. But I had a hard life, before the Shadow Wars. All the good things that came to me, came because I worked very hard for them." She paused, hating having to say these words to her pious lover. "I…do not see Solonor's hand in either the good or bad in my life, to date."

He looked astonished, and his voice matched his face. "How can you say these good things were not from His favor? How can you be sure?"

"Because of all of those we didn't get to rescue, Casavir, and all those worse off. You can't tell me all of them were Faithless." His face softened at once, and she softened her voice to match. "Dear, you are among the most pious of men. It is your calling, your profession, and our life of choice. The rest of us don't live a fraction of your faith. I know it must be hard to understand." Casavir looked at her as if he were breaking apart in front of her. She was, in effect, saying he didn't live in the real world. And she was right.

"This is my pain, Leona. Right now, the past few days…it is not hard to understand. I see your point very clearly. Tyr help me, I even see Gann's." He rubbed his chin. "Why didn't I go to the Temple that night, instead of coming to you? Why am I doomed to always, always, forsake everything for love?"

Softly, barely over a whisper but so he could hear, Leona said, "You made a pledge to me, just as you made a vow to Tyr."

After a moment, he nodded. "I did. The night before we left to find the King of Shadows. Yes, I did. I honor that pledge."

Leona went to him, and put her hands in his. "Perhaps Tyr and I are now at cross-purposes. I do not fault you for choosing your vow to Him over yours to me. He is a God, and your highest calling."

Casavir sat in the armchair, pulling her hands along so as not to break their contact. "Perhaps I am Falling even now, for His does not seem to be my highest calling."

She sat on his lap, and curled into him. He spoke into her hair.

"Tyr forgive me: I honor my pledge to you. I will come with you, whatever the consequences."

Leona jerked her face up to meet his, almost head-butting him in the process. "Casavir, you will Fall. Your vow to Tyr will be forfeit. You will resign all your Holy Power."

"And yet I feel as you do, that there is no other way. I pledged my honor to you. You saw the Wall and judged it worthy of attack. I trust that judgment." He pulled her closer in. "I am coming with you."

Leona hated herself for being glad he was coming. The cost would be great. But, they might not even come back alive. At least they would die together. She wouldn't let herself think of what would happen if they died together, and ended up on the Wall, separated and tortured until they faded away.

Two weeks later, a large group of unlikely bedfellows scattered around the Keep's planning room. Leona realized as she entered that she'd barely been in this room since the Shadow Wars; luckily there wasn't much large-scale planning lately in the Neverwinter Realms. The last time she even set foot here was to plan Casavir's rescue, and today he walked in beside her. She touched him, reminding herself he was real. She was late on purpose, to allow others to arrive, and all voices stopped as they entered. The entire room was no less than stunned that the Paladin stood by her side. They all knew his presence meant a certain and absolute cast-off from his God. Despite their utterly unreasonable purpose, they all thought themselves quite reasonable indeed. And Casavir had always held many good traits, but reasonable was never one of them. They stared in disbelief.

Leona looked around the room at her friends. Every one of her best companions was there, in this planning subset. Strangely coupled off except for Deekin next to her, she counted Gann and Neeshka, Khelgar and Grizelda, and Sand and Safiya. She sat down at the table's head and said, "Before we begin, I want each person to tell me why they're here. We must make sure we journey for the right reasons."

Khelgar was out for a good fight. Grizelda admitted to getting restless at the Keep, and knew she'd be useful keeping tempers in check (a rare and useful quality for a dwarf). Gann and Safiya, like Leona, were haunted by memories of the Wall. Neeshka wanted to check out a new area for looting, and Sand wanted to trade secrets en route, and see Safiya's homeland. Deekin had come at another bard's (Grobnar's) request, and was ready to write a new adventure story.

When it was Casavir's turn, he steadily said, "If such a structure plagues good adventurers so, it must be against the natural order. I offer my services to do what's right for all people, believers and non-believers alike." As he spoke, his usual holy glow grew slightly stronger, and even he looked surprised. Certainly he had not yet been forsaken. Neeshka, who was always uncomfortable among the holy, squinted as if her eyes burned.

Leona took the floor. "I see us mostly paired off here. It's important to me as Keep Captain that no one joins us simply because we care for someone else who is coming. That is a fine second reason, but not a first. You must believe in this cause, wholeheartedly, or else you will hinder those who do."

While speaking she avoided looking at Casavir, but her message to the others was clear. He was not here because he loved her; he was here because he agreed with her. And she expected no less from the rest of them.

"Now I turn this mission over to Gann. He's clearly considered all angles for a long time, and has a plan of attack. As the Keep Captain I still hold rank, and Gann understands that should I disagree with his plans at any time, I am free to disobey them. I doubt that would ever come to pass. I know him to be a superb strategist, and I anticipate no trouble. He will be the official leader of the Fourth Crusade against the Wall of the Faithless." She turned to him. "Are you ready for the others?"

He smirked. "Get ready for it to get crowded in here." He opened the West door and in came a steady stream of adventurers, most of whom Leona knew well. In the last week, after Leona gave Gann license to look outside their immediate circle for companions, he'd been very busy.

Grobnar the gnome came first, and seated himself with Deekin. They were both bards and shared conversations everyone else could hardly understand. Gobnar had fought with Leona in the Shadow Wars, and barely made it out alive. These days he traveled much, but came back when he heard there was more group adventuring to be had. He convinced Deekin to come along for company.

Then came Zhjaeve the cleric, followed by Qara the sorceress. Leona had fought alongside both of them in the Shadow Wars. Their faces spoke volumes. They didn't have a problem with coming along, but neither of them seemed to think Gann could pull it off. With them on his side, though, he stood a better chance. Qara was a fierce spellcaster and Zhjaeve was a grade-A healer.

Next came Leona's foster father Daeghun, and his new love, the druid Elanee. Leona was surprised to see them; they nodded to her slightly, but stayed on task, serious as ever.

Casavir leaned in to Leona, strategy on his mind. "Thinking back to the Shadow Wars," he said, "we lost Bishop and Ammon Jerro there. But today we have your father, and both Gann and Safiya. Not to mention the extra bard. We are perhaps even stronger now than we were then." This was the first time Casavir had either spoken of the War losses, or mentioned Bishop without spitting his name like a curse. Not to mention that he was thinking past philosophy, to strategy. Leona nodded and smiled, at his focus on the task and his evolution past his jealousy.

Then they both got a surprise. The last person to walk in was none other than Ophala Cheldarstorn, the owner of the Moonstone Mask pub in Neverwinter. She walked in as if the room was her pub, head high and proud. Those who knew her were happy to see her, but no one made much of her presence, except Leona and Casavir – and Sand, who watched carefully with narrowed eyes, from across the room.

Ophala strolled up to Leona and Casavir as if they were her guests, instead of vice versa. Her eyes were warm, and as genuine as eyes could look. She stopped in front of Casavir, hands out in greeting. "Casavir. It is good, very good to see you alive, Love." Her pet name wasn't a challenge of ownership; it was an acknowledgement of their past. For this reason, Leona didn't step between them. But when Casavir took her hands with a new warmth, she didn't step back, either. He said, "Ophala. I am glad you are well."

"Very much so. It has been several years, has it not?"

"Eight."

"Yes. And here we are again." She turned to Leona. "I am here, Captain, in a Sorceress capacity. I represent the Many-Starred Cloak Guild. We would like to aid you and Gannayev in your mission against the Wall of the Faithless."

Suddenly Gann was at their side. "Madam Ophala. It is a pleasure to meet you in person. I trust you are here to join us?"

She hesitated, thinly disguised lust on her tongue as she spoke. "Well, you have been very persuasive. And you are just as lovely in the daytime, waking hours." She looked around as if she knew a secret. But she clearly did not know that Gann had been Leona's lover too, so Leona decided to keep that to herself for now. It might come in handy later. At the moment, though, she was thinking like a Captain. "May I speak to the two of you in private?" Casavir, unsure of her motives, stepped back all the same, and slid around the table to talk strategy with Khelgar.

She had to tread carefully, not to seem like a jealous lover. "Ophala. I am honored to have someone of your magical prowess in our midst. But I have…concerns. There are many people in our party who could be…thrown off by your presence." Ophala all but batted her eyelashes, but Leona was in mission-planning mode, and did not flinch. "I am Captain of this property, which allows me to speak plainly. First. You did not greet me when you entered this room, which shows that you treat me like a woman and not a Captain. You may be hundreds of years old but here, I outrank you. You have not shown yourself to respect that, which will cause dissension in this team.

"Two. You will unsettle Casavir. That he is even on this mission is a delicate thing, as you can imagine for a Paladin, and a reminder of his past sins is poor timing." Gann and Ophala both looked bored. Clearly it looked to both of them like Leona was jealous.

"Three, you'll unsettle Neeshka, who is fond of Gann, and won't appreciate the competition while on a quest. Four, you'll unsettle Qara, who is a talented young Sorceress and will see fit to compete with you at every turn." Gann seemed to be finally listening to Leona's objections.

"I also see it possible – this would be number five – that you will unsettle Safiya, who is Sand's lover, because you know Sand quite well, and you are the only two here with elf blood. Lastly, you're the only one here who hasn't traveled with me, which makes you a wild card, which makes me uncomfortable as Captain." Leona stopped speaking, to give Ophala and Gann a chance to weigh in. Not that she needed their opinion to make any decision she chose; but she was a fair leader, and wanted to hear their thoughts. Gann, usually a blowhard, smirked at Ophala and waited. Ophala waited a beat, as if to take Leona's measure, and then spoke. She started with what she (correctly) assessed was the most important of Leona's concerns.

"Greetings, Knight Captain. You are quite right I should have greeted you upon my entrance. As I am partly responsible for your lover standing over there intact, I hope you forgive me my infraction. I was overjoyed to see him." She turned to Gann.

"I was under the impression that my presence here would aid exactly the very individuals you just named." Her face formed a question.

Gann smiled warmly. "I'm no stranger to trouble, or causing it, just for its own sake. But here I work towards a purpose. For this mission to succeed, the ranks must not be tight. This is not a war of muscle or magic. This is a war that will only be won by people who cling desperately to life. If our strongest feel threatened in some way, eternal punishment will seem more real and more repugnant, and they will fight harder to break down the Wall. I apologize, Leona, if you are one of the affected."

"My concern is first for rank respect, and second for Qara. Let me introduce you, and I will make my decision afterwards."

Ophala turned towards the windows. "I know which one she is. I will return shortly after I make her acquaintance."

Leona and Gann stared after her as he reminded her, "You do realize you just turned this mission over to me. The make-up of the party is no longer yours to decide."

Leona showed her surprise. "You would begin by defying my wishes?"

"I would. Over this, I would. She will be invaluable, I just know it."

"How did you even know her?"

"So, it's a long story. It involves farm girls – my stories always do – and a little name-dropping from Sand here and there. She's very powerful, and very persuasive. She is also a fine dreamer. But I do not dream and tell."

Leona muttered, "The Hell you don't," and turned away fuming, to find Casavir. Before she reached him, Ophala stepped in front of her. "Qara is already quite fond of me. Is that all?"

"However did you manage that?"

"I told her I had no use for formal schooling. I didn't get where I was by sitting in a classroom, you know. She's a woman of action. I think I can do her a world of good."

"And who among us can do you good?"

"You imply I am here for my own means. Gann's offer was quite effective, so there is that. I miss adventuring, so, yes. And the two of you are very intriguing to me, after your time in the Manor Prison. I won't deny that. But in my line of work, you can imagine how many Faithless I have loved, sheltered, and guided. I do this most of all for them." She squinted, as if reading a message on Leona's chin. "You think me heartless."

"When I saw you last, you said some heartless things about people I love."

"I remember well. I think we established, then, that I simply spoke the heartless thoughts we both had. Shall I speak more, or keep them to my breast this time?"

"Speak only if you think it will help one of us. Otherwise, I don't need to hear it."

"I like you, Leona." Ophala leaned in, turned her head towards Casavir so he would see, and let her lips brush Leona's cheek. "I like you very much indeed."

It took very little time for Leona's party to cross over into Gann and Safiya's plane. As they waited, Leona thought about the choices she'd made with Ophala. She could have challenged her then and there, but she didn't want to set a combative tone – and there was also a decent chance she'd have lost. Had it been her own mission, she'd have taken the chance. But given that Gann was in charge, she let it go. Also, for Casavir's sake, it was better to have peace there.

When they arrived on the new plane, they decided to meet directly in the largest city of Rashemen, away from the Red Wizards for now. Since Gann and Safiya were the most accustomed to the region, they set off together to find two others: Okku the bear, and Kaelyn the Dove. Both of them had been fierce fighters and friendly companions in their adventures here, and the more bodies they could get on their side, the better.

Okku returned first; Leona and her familiar (the bear Honus) were clearly delighted. Honus climbed on Okku's back like old times. Introductions were made; Okku was especially interested in Casavir after all Leona's grief during their year together.

"You have great heart, human. You have conquered much to stand here today."

Casavir gave a slight nod. "Aye. I understand without you, Leona wouldn't be standing here either. I am in your debt."

"I do not know what you could offer a sleeping ancestor who is the last of his kind."

"Perhaps, a wide hunting ground. Perhaps a reason to start again."

Okku pawed at the ground. "You presume much, Sacred human." He turned away quickly, Honus swaying on his back as he ran off for the trees. So quickly, that he displayed his craving for just what Casavir had offered him.

Kaelyn the Dove was the last to appear. She had been a servant of the God of the Dead Kelemvor; her job was to comfort the dying. But once she saw the Wall of the Faithless up close, she felt she was misleading the dying Faithless, and turned against her God. She had led three unsuccessful crusades to break it down; Leona was with her for the third. Her wings now blackened from her irreverence, Kaelyn had not wavered in her cause, and was ready for a fourth crusade. She was an excellent recruit, because she often stories of the Wall that made each listener more determined to break it to pieces. She was a preacher and a zealot; her enthusiasm and outrage were contagious.

And so Kaelyn the Dove, once assistant to the God of the Dead, greeted Okku the bear as an old friend; she wrapped her blackened wings around his colored fur and nestled in, as if cold. Leona almost thought she heard him purr. When Kaelyn turned around, the next thing she did was nod to Gann and Safiya, hint of a smile on her usually-serious face. She also greeted Zhjaeve , who she did not know but recognized as fellow cleric, as custom indicated. Both clerics, both loners, and both turned against their people, there was plenty to discuss. When she finally turned to Leona, her arms were already open. "Sister of my crusade, how fare you?"

Leona stepped back and smiled. "Well, Kaelyn. I'd like you to meet Casavir, the Paladin of whom I often spoke." Kaelyn, never one to mask emotion, put her hand on her chest and then out, as if receiving a gift from him. "Casavir, whatever your tale, I am sure you are most lucky to be alive."

He nodded tersely. "I am. Good to meet you, cleric."

Leona shifted uncomfortably. They'd spoken of Kaelyn on the way to this world, and Casavir was unable to understand how a Holy warrior of any kind could defy the Gods in this way. It was as if he couldn't believe someone like her existed, even as she stood before him.

Kaelyn kept her genuine smile as she nodded back to him. "Never fear, Paladin. I've met many like you. You think that following a God and following them blindly are one and the same."

"Perhaps I will have to Fall from Grace to know what you really mean."

Leona put one hand on each of them. "This is an important conversation to have. But not now, and not here. Today we are building morale, learning to work with each other."

Kaelyn's eyes did not leave Casavir's. "Is that not what we are doing, right now?"

Gann strode up, hands out as if giving a tour. "Right here, friends. Precisely the reason I didn't bother to order fireworks for evening shows." Leona heard someone curse, and someone snicker. She would have bet money those were Khelgar, and Ophala, respectively.

"You seek to outnumber me and thus change my mind?" Casavir's expression hardly changed.

Gann rolled his eyes. "Your mind hardly needs changing, or else you wouldn't be here. But let's face it: Kaelyn is a walking contradiction. She is living proof of something true and not-true. Very hard to hold both at once, Casavir. Takes lots of practice. Why you're here, perhaps."

"Do you know why I form the crusades?" asked Kaelyn.

"I only know you lost faith."

"Oh, yes. But not in the way you mean. Faith is about trusting what you cannot see. But I am an Angel. I saw everything. I never had to suspend disbelief."

The campfire had gotten quiet, with all the adventurers listening now to Kaelyn's tale. Gann had a smug look, knowing she would unite everyone once they heard her passion and her determination.

"I was Kelemvor's assistant. I regularly saw the Wall of the Faithless." She paused, looking around and counting. "There are many of you here. Yet I know only four of you have seen it with their own eyes. I can guarantee you that once you see it, your instinct will be to tear it down." She looked pointedly at Casavir before continuing. "The suffering assaults all the senses. It is torture of the highest order. Only a sadist would see anything redeeming in it."

Kaelyn looked around again. "My station was to comfort the dying. I was to assure them their transition to Afterlife would be smooth, even if their dying was not." She paused and looked away behind the crowd, wet eyes seeing ghosts from her memory. "But what does one say to the Faithless?

"Whatever you are thinking of, I tried it over centuries. I came with a list of Gods, to convince them to choose one and follow before they crossed over. I begged, bribed, threatened."

Khelgar kicked the dust with his feet. "Gods must not 've liked that much, eh Angel? Ye changin' the fates for 'em.

Casavir disagreed. "I'd think They'd like it very much indeed. If the Wall is such an abomination, surely their goal is to prevent people ending up there."

"Ah, but without interference," Sand said. "As Kaelyn notes, it is not faith if they know what they face. Proof of the Gods is everywhere we look. How much more can mortals be allowed to know before their decisions look like cheating?"

"Just so," Kaelyn said. "Just so. Kelemvor said he wished no one would have to fade the Wall, but that it was not our job to prevent it. He said – I remember this so well, though it was centuries ago – He said, 'ascent into Afterlife is not Our burden, but theirs. Not Our choice, but theirs. Thus cannot be Our doing; it must be theirs.' I was forbidden to attempt any change of heart for the dying."

Elanee spoke, voice low but clear. "What then, were you left with?"

"I could say nothing, or I could lie." She paused, and locked eyes with Leona. "When you have seen the Wall, you will understand why lying was out of the question. I could never send any soul there while letting them believe they were headed to happiness."

Leona nodded, feeling a strange lightness. For two years now, she carried the burden of what she saw on the Wall. So long she'd been surrounded by people who didn't share that burden, or that strong impulse to do something about the atrocity. And now, here she was, surrounded by people who shared that flavor of sadness. And all her closest allies, who believed that her sadness was real. The heavy burden seemed easier to bear now, and she felt strangely as close to happy as she had since before the Shadow Wars.

"Understandable," Casavir said. "No, more than that: Commendable. But the question I must ask is why you led a Crusade. Could you not have just left your post, performed another task, served the faithful well and perhaps recruited some in your zeal?"

Qara snickered from the back of the group, and leaned towards Ophala. "I can't believe I actually heard a Paladin just use the word 'zeal.' Seriously. The man's a caricature of himself."

Casavir sighed and let his shoulders fall down. He looked less like a warrior in that moment than he ever had. But Leona's observation was short-lived because in an instant, Kaelyn's dark wings had sprouted her up and in front of Qara, a scary sight to behold. Leona had never seen Qara shaken, even when up against the Shadow Army. But she took a step back, which for her was the equivalent of curling up in a ball and shaking.

"Child. You do not know the meaning of the word 'zeal.' I am half-angel. I have walked with Gods. You defame the zealous in my company, and you defame me, and thus you defame the Gods themselves. Do not invite this wrath. You will respect the passionate and the suffering."

Qara used all her strength to pull up her chin, just a little. "I know something of passion."

"You do. But Paladins know everything about passion. They barter in it every day. They glow with the light of it, and bank on it in battle. You display your ignorance."

She turned to the man she spoke of. "And yet, your passion for your God is not what brought you here."

Having named what everyone was thinking, Kaelyn made every single person shift uncomfortably (except Gann, who was never uncomfortable).

"Kaelyn." Safiya came forward. She was always the voice of reason to Kaelyn's emotion, and Leona remembered many times when it saved them from a whole lot of trouble. "Kaelyn," she repeated, until she had the angel's attention. "We went over this before we left. Leona herself announced that anyone joining us had to share belief in the cause. No one is here as a companion. We all share your distaste for the Wall."

"Well, this is very important," Kaelyn said. "Because there will be consequences. None of us will return the same – if we return at all. And each will face sacrifices. My wings were once snowy white. I own my choices, whatever the consequences. I look at them every day." She rolled her darkened wings front and back, and leveled her eyes at Casavir. "We must all, each one of us, be ready to say the same." He knew what she implied, and he gave her the slightest nod, which appeased her.

Kaelyn turned her back on the group, dismissing them all. "It seems to me You all need to see the Wall. Only then, when the horror gives you nightmares, can you summon the strength to do what you must."

The forest was cold, snow-packed, and treacherous. The mission was difficult as it was with so many – it was hard to keep a constant count – and reminded Leona so much of the Shadow Wars that she sometimes had trouble focusing. It made her realize, again, how she had barely stopped moving since then – and not through any fault of her own. She thought she'd died, woke up in this very foreign land, and spent a year trying to undo a curse. In doing so, she acquired what she saw as another curse: the memories of the Wall.

The next year she spent with Grizelda, trying not to think about anything, and then this last year she spent mostly holed up at the Keep, pretending a routine of a life with Casavir again. But they each had their own ghosts, now. They found, sadly, it wasn't enough to be happy they still lived, and move on. They tried to foster gratitude, but it never came. He had to come to terms with his prison time and she had to come to terms with this. That was why she was here; if they lived through it, she would surely be damaged in some other way. And then, he would still have his issues. They seemed no longer able to revel in spite of what faced them.

"I wonder…" she said aloud, staring into the fire.

"Hmmm?" Casavir was reading, a form of second meditation for him.

"Remember our nights before the Shadow Wars?"

He put his book down and stared at her. "Of course. They were some of our best. Ironic, since we knew what was coming."

"That's right!" She practically jumped up in victory. "So what's wrong with us now?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why aren't we reveling now? We're still headed to certain death. We have the added joy of finding each other alive. But we're both sulking. Where is that adventurer's revelry?"

"I think we are probably just very tired."

"Casavir. The sun has barely set tonight. Just because we all retired early –"

"That's not what I mean, Leona. I mean we are tired people. Had you ever fought so intensely before the Shadow Wars? And then the curse, and me, and…I mean to say, we are weary."

"Come on. We had all last year. You were consulting farmers' disputes. How weary could you be? I was training recruits. I was bored mindless. Really."

"We were not resting. We were waiting. That takes a lot of energy."

Leona opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. Surely they didn't know Gann would concoct this journey; they didn't even know Casavir would train again.

The heart-to-heart was cut short when they heard raised voices through the trees. They had camped for this third night in the forest, in a series of clearings but thick enough to have some privacy. Leona stood quickly, then took off at a run when she saw her bear Honus head northeast, presumably towards Okku. Casavir grabbed his warhammer and got ahead of her. The Paladin, always trying to protect, she thought, as she readied an arrow without slowing pace.

Yes, there was a battle on their hands. Hidden by some bushes in one of the clearings was a small cave opening, through which poured a nest of Formian creatures. Formians were like ant centaurs, and didn't usually attack for no reason. Leona knew no one had disturbed the cave, so it was odd that they left it to take on strangers.

"Stop! Stop! Are you sure they're enemies?" Casavir called out amidst the sounds of fireballs and steel on steel. "Why do you attack?"

One tall creature, who seemed to be the leader, spoke while parrying blows from Grizelda. "We owe a debt. We will be free if we destroy you."

"STOP!" Casavir stood in the center, refusing to fight, blocking only. "We have no right to kill these creatures!"

Leona had a clear shot to the head of the leader, but when her lover cried out, she hesitated, and lost the window. Then Grizelda was knocked to the ground, and the Formian's pitchfork was coming down.

Leona screamed, but couldn't hear her own voice because the very ground was shaking. Okku, the giant colorful bear was roaring. The formian's pitchfork stopped in midair. Grizelda rolled away, and Leona exhaled.

In the space between blows, Okku ran to Grizelda and nudged her gently. "I know you not, small one," he rumbled, "but I know you keep my friend safe. You deserve to live this day." Then he turned, slowly like an animal who'd been alive for millennia as he had, and spoke to Casavir. "Only you seem to have the sense to speak first and strike second. If you cannot resolve this, I will be the first to stand behind you."

"Bor-ing," said Qara from the front line. She had a fireball floating above her hand and looked ready to throw it no matter what anyone said. Grizelda, still on the ground with Khelgar fretting nearby, rolled her eyes.

"Know that there are larger evils than this, Qara," said Zhjaeve. "Save your spells."

Casavir, ignoring them all, put his hand out and stroked the colorful fur. "Thank you, Bear-God Okku." Then, turning: "Who wants us dead, Formian?"

The ant creature backed up a bit, worker ranks pulling in a wide triangle behind him. "In this cave live a group of Drow. They make their gold by pillaging Crusaders to the Wall. They want her" – he nodded towards Kaelyn – "dead at any cost. She hinders their thefts."

"These pillagers are the worst kind of thieves. They lure trusting souls to their own destruction by telling them lies and then stealing their worth and their lives." Kaelyn all but spat on the cave floor while saying this.

"What debt do you owe them, that would cause otherwise just creatures to harm worthy strangers?"

The Formian straightened up taller, falling prey to Casavir's charismatic words. But then he looked down, saddened. "The Drow have our Queen. In a matter of weeks we will die without her."

"Cowards!" Qara took another step forward, fireball still in hand. "Why can't they take on Kaelyn themselves? Something isn't adding up."

"Drow hate light," Kaelyn said. "And light, I have." With that, she started to glow so brightly that the night seemed suddenly day. Neeshka, always uncomfortable around religious power, covered her eyes and cowered.

Casavir looked unsettled by Kaelyn's display, but focused on the Formian. "We will rescue your Queen. You do not need to battle us to save her."

"And if you fail?"

"If we fail, you may challenge us in battle as is your custom."

"But," said the Formian leader, "you could already be dead then. We have you here now, with a clear way to rescue our Queen."

"Look around," Casavir said calmly. "Do we really look like better enemies than friends? Both our skills and number are formidable."

While the Formian consulted with his fellow workers, Gann strode up and spoke softly to Casavir. "You might remember, friend, that I lead this mission. We are here for one reason only: to tear down the damned wall. Anything that tires us from this task is not worth doing."

Casavir, smartly, stayed quiet, sensing that Gann had more to say. And he did. "Luckily, though, I agree with you here. We would eventually have to fight these Drow en route to the Wall. And making Formian allies along the way might help us down the line."

Casavir gave him a long look, and then said, "I apologize, Gannayev, for making decisions without you. I could not let these creatures die over misunderstanding. It's in my nature. Please understand me. I do not envy or covet your leadership of this group."

Gann slapped him on the back as the Formian approached. "Damn right, Paladin. Keeping Qara in line is work enough. Good thing Ophala is here. Kindred spirits, those two." Casavir stiffened, but Gann, as always, was impervious. "Was she as feisty when you knew her?"

"Inappropriate question, Gannayev. But as I owe you amends: yes. Yes she was."

With that, the Formian approached to accept Casavir's offer. The party agreed to sleep the night, and enter the cave at morning light: in case there were Drow near the surface, they would resist coming outside and the cave opening would be a weapon in itself. Though Formians weren't known for cruelty or falseness, Gann set up a watch anyway. Okku and Honus draped themselves on a bank near the mouth of the cave, until morning, when the war would begin.

Leona woke slowly, happily, as she usually did in the wild. Honus was beside her, which she took to mean others were awake and watching the cave for activity. Casavir was gone, and it was early, so she went out to hunt with Honus, feeling at home even though these woods were new to her. She never felt better than while tracking, breathing, existing in the natural world. By the time she returned, she felt smoothed out and centered. With one look at Casavir, she could tell he too was centered, probably from some form of meditation. She was constantly relieved that he seemed not to lose his holy power, despite his acceptance of this mission. She knew he was still conflicted.

Once everyone assembled they started into the caves. The bears and Sand went first, because they had the best night vision. The cave was wider and deeper than they expected, and they all knew they would not reach the Drow before having to rest. Drow usually were very far down, and could be all the way to the Underdark. This was a side-trip that could spell trouble, and Leona was starting to resent it. Though it couldn't be helped, it would rob them of time and resources, and she wanted to keep moving towards the Wall, and then get out. It was grueling to keep their guard up for a fight at every corner, and Leona grew restless before long. She hated being enclosed; her claustrophobia was especially stark given her long, restful hunt that morning. She knew this could continue for days, and her spirits plummeted.

The bears picked up no living scent, other than a critter here and there, so it was safe to make noise and let their guard down, just a little. To pass the time, Okku told tales of old, his deep voice rolling through the caverns for all to hear. He had run with the Goddess of Nature herself, and had much to tell about the first animals in the land. The Druids in the group – of which Leona's stepmother Elanee was one – leaned in to listen closely to Okku's descriptions of the early natural world. Leona felt content as she leaned against a damp wall for a short rest, Okku's droning rumble seemingly enjoying the attention.

Sand respectfully asked Okku what life was like for people before the Wall of the Faithless was constructed. Leona closed her eyes: she'd heard this before, when Kaelyn had asked during their journey together. "You mean in the times of the God Jergal," said Okku.

"Yes."

"We don't deal much in the affairs of humans," Okku said in his slow rumble. "I was with the Gods of Nature, mostly. We wanted people to respect the natural world, not the Gods themselves. Then, it was more about seeing and appreciating what was around us. Now, it is about appreciating beings." Okku stopped short of passing judgment, but his distaste was plain.

"I wonder," said Sand, "if there are more or fewer believers now than there were before the Wall was constructed. That is, is it functioning as intended?"

"But Myrkal didn't construct it as a means to faith. He constructed it as a revenge against those who would not fall in line. It was never meant to be just."

"Besides, Kaelyn said," there are about the same. The Wall hasn't changed a thing. It neither detracts nor deters believers."

At this, Leona opened her eyes, to study Casavir's reactions. He was, she thought, much like a child finding out the truth about fairies, but for him there were dire consequences to these truths. Unlikely he would think faith was no longer worth having, but if he did…if he did, he would be nothing more than a strong man with a hammer. His spells and his protection would disappear, not to mention his resolve and his center, his purpose.

What Leona saw surprised her: Casavir looked angry. Not at Okku, but at the God who would have created such a ruthless plot. Sand saw it too, and remarked in his direction, "Myrkal was never particularly just. He was conniving and cruel, and lost his station because of it."

"Kelemvor is a just God." Casavir said it as if reciting.

"True," said Okku. "The most just God of Dead to date."

"And yet," Kaelyn said, "He allows the Wall to stand."

Casavir seemed sure He must have his reasons, and said so.

Kaelyn shrugged. "No reason justifies the suffering of millions."

They all stood up again and trudged on. Leona noticed that Casavir kept his distance; he was thinking. She walked beside him in silence for a while, and then said, "Do you want to talk?" He shook his head no, so she stayed quiet. A few minutes later he said, "The Wall's existence does not add believers."

"No, apparently it doesn't."

"And people suffer on the Wall."

"Oh, yes. They most certainly do."

"Good people suffer."

"Yes."

"The Gods allow this to stand." She didn't answer him; he was processing, step by step, out loud. She knew where this was going, and it was dangerous for him. She stopped walking. "Casavir, are you sure you want to be here?"

He stopped with her, and put a surprisingly gentle hand across her cheek. "I have never been more sure of being anywhere. I belong here, and you need my help."

"That is not what I asked. I asked you if you want to be here."

He furrowed his brow for just a moment, then stared back at her with resolve. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Consequences?"

"If the Wall is as you say, there is only one consequence I have my eye on right now." Leona repeated his gesture with her hand and his cheek, and raised her lips to his ear. "I am with you, no matter what," she whispered.

"The same to you," he said back. And they caught up with the others. She stayed a pace behind to make sure his hammer was still glowing, and then with some relief – and confusion about why the Gods still supported him – she caught up and kept the pace.

They were tired, and sick of the cave, but luckily no one complained, and before long they encountered a Drow sentry, asleep at his post. Neeshka snuck up behind him – not that it was necessary since he was asleep – and slit his throat. Casavir opened his mouth to protest the brutality, but Gann touched his arm and said, "Drow, of all creatures, do not deserve our sympathy. The worthy among them is beyond rare."

Casavir looked grim. "I've known a few."

Sand turned his head back. "Less than a few, Casavir. One, maybe. And a 'worthy' drow would never be a sentry. Besides, we have to attack by surprise. If we don't, we are in great danger. Most of us are magic users, and Drow are resistant to most magic. This is not an easy mission: we can't be easy targets."

Good practice, maybe, for the Wall, Leona thought. I doubt our magic will work there, either.

Two more days passed, as they went farther down towards the Underdark. They encountered four more sentries, and dispatched them easily. Leona had heard about the Underdark – only bad news – but Deekin the Bard had been there before, and seemed to know the way by instinct. His small frame sat atop Okku as they wove through the dark halls. Leona's nerves were frayed, from being away from open nature for this long. She knew she'd be a less effective fighter but tried to keep her guard and morale up, since she was one of the leaders of the team.

The third day was slow going, and dark. Provisions were short, and so were tempers. Towards the end of what they thought was day, the sentries were spaced closer and closer. They were on the right track.

"The bad news," said Gann, "is that now we cannot stop. If we rest we will surely be discovered. Keep your energies and defenses high: we could come on them at any moment."

Everyone had weapons ready, even the magic users. Drow were notoriously resistant to magic, and the spellcasters knew very little would work on them. When they finally reached what was the cave equivalent of a clearing, with their torches as the only light, they all sensed they were being watched. Leona noticed Sand's and Deekin's heads turning, as if they were hearing things she couldn't. She managed to get her back to a wall and cocked her bow, keeping her sword within reach.

All at once in the darkness, several dozen Drow descended like spiders from lines above them. The fighting was silent, and unnerving in the dark; Leona could not tell who was winning, losing, or dying. Those carrying the torches were either swinging them or had thrown them. Then Ophala, who was close to Leona, threw up a light spell to brighten the top of the cave. It blinded the Drow momentarily, giving the team one extra shot, and also took away their long-term handicap. That was smart, thought Leona. She watched as Ophala jumped in front of the small bard Grobnar to protect him, while instructing him to hold the spell. Maybe the magic can't work on the Drow, but we can use it on the cave, to our advantage.

Once the giant room was illuminated, Leona quickly assessed who needed help. Everyone seemed to be holding their own, because they had formed clever ranks with the biggest, best hand-to-hand fighters on the outside. Casavir was with Khelgar and Grizelda on the front line, flanked by the two bears and Kaelyn, who was an excellent swordfighter. The magic users and Neeshka stayed behind them, dodging in and out with smaller weapons as best they could. Though impervious to spells directly, the Drow could still be harmed by magic a little; the trick was to stay alive long enough to keep at it, and wear them down. Leona took down as many as she could with arrows, and when she lost clear shots she started shooting fire arrows in even spacing along the top wall. Just in case the light spell doesn't hold, she thought.

Leona was just about to draw her sword, ready to jump into the fray, when she saw commotion up and to her right. In what seemed like slow motion, she saw Casavir fall to the floor. One of the Drow stood over him with a small sword in each hand, ready to exact revenge for a badly bleeding arm. There was no one to help, as the Drow had closed in on all the swordsmen, filling the gap Casavir had left. Neeshka, as scrappy and sneaky as most of the Drow, bravely jumped in to fill the void, but that wouldn't last long. Against her will Leona thought briefly that she would have to thank Neeshka for her bravery, if they didn't die tonight. Then she cleared her mind, and aimed the most important arrow she had ever notched.

She was a good enough archer that she hardly ever missed completely, but this time she hit the Drow's chest when she was aiming for the head. The Drow staggered backwards to regain balance, and by the time he was fully upright again, Leona had another arrow ready. This time she did not miss: the Drow went down instantly, and Leona started running for the spot, drawing sword as she ran.

Casavir was completely gone from view now, all but trampled by the action around him. Khelgar seemed at least aware that his friend was down, and was trying to get his back to the spot so he could protect what was left of him. What was left of him? It seemed like Leona had miles to run before she reached the spot where she saw him last. During that long run her thoughts spun too quickly, but a few stood out: would she have run for any other party member as fast? Did others need her help now as she wasted her efforts this way? Would someone else die from the choice she'd just made?

As quickly, she argued with herself: she was not leader of this party. And since she was not the leader, and didn't have to think like one now. Gann had organized the plans, and set the fighting strategies; she had played her part to the letter. She could afford to selfish now – couldn't she?

It didn't matter; she was headed for the spot, and cut down two Drow as she went, without slowing pace. When she reached him, she wanted to kneel down and check him all over, but that would be time wasted. She instead kept her sword out, and cleared a wide berth around them, helping thin out Khelgar's area while she worked. Between enemies she searched the room for Zhjaeve, the cleric who could help. Finally she located her, inside a protective area Deekin had drawn. Zhjaeve was working on Safiya, who was sitting up but looking dazed. Safiya was a master spellcaster, but her wooden staff wasn't fast enough for the Drow, who were renowned for their speed and stealth. She was probably lucky to be alive. Leona made yet another pointless mental note to teach Safiya better combat skills for times like these.

Leona knew she could not pull Casavir to the healer on her own. As she took on another Drow who'd tried to sneak up behind her, she yelled to Grobnar, "I need strength!" He threw a knife with surprising accuracy at a Drow across the hall, and then set to casting a spell that would increase her strength. They were being smart, her party, and she was proud. They were finding ways around the Drow resistance that would give them an edge. And they were all good enough fighters that a little edge was all they needed.

Leona dispatched the Drow but cut her leg badly; she was gritting her teeth trying to stay on her feet. "Stay strong, Lass!" yelled Khelgar, axe spinning around him with whiplash speed. She didn't take the time to check Casavir for wounds, or even for breath; she put her arms under his and began to drag him to the protected circle. Pray his back isn't broken, she thought as she limped, almost hopping, leaving a smear of her own blood behind her. When she hobbled past Khelgar, he was smiling. Had she known Casavir to be alive, she might have even smiled too. Despite the horror of all this blood, it was strangely entertaining to see Khelgar having such a good time.

Inside the protective circle the air was cool, and the sounds of the battle were muffled as if they were far away. Zhjaeve was on them instantly, starting her diagnostic check at Casavir's head. At this moment, though her heart was breaking, duty called to Leona. Her friends were outside of this circle in a damp, messy, fight for their lives. She'd done all she could for her lover. And waiting around for a diagnosis might cost someone else a life. She started to limp out of the circle when she felt Zhjaeve 's hand on her arm. "At least let me wrap your leg," she said quietly.

"How quickly can you do it?"

"Ten seconds."

Maybe it was only ten seconds, but it felt like a year. As soon as Zhjaeve said, "There," Leona was limping back out of the circle, stale air hitting her like it too was a weapon. Neeshka had slashes all over and was bleeding from most of them. Leona yelled, "To the circle! Now!" She knew Neeshka would listen because first, Leona was her leader every day leading up this adventure; and second, because Neeshka was all about self-preservation. At the moment Leona was grateful for it. The last thing she wanted was to argue with someone who wanted to be heroic and foolish.

Once Neeshka had clamored away, Leona took her place next to Khelgar to take out the remaining Drow. Trying not to focus on anything but fighting, she couldn't help but notice Sand and Ophala at the edge of the room, casting spells down a long hallway. One thing at a time, she thought, trying to be light on her weak foot. Khelgar, though, was having the time of his life. "Just like old times, eh?" He was hurt in a few places from what she could see, but his face looked fresh as spring flowers. Grizelda was easily holding her own next to him; they were a right pair.

The three of them and Okku thinned the ranks easily enough, and then moved ahead to the hallway to see if they could aid the wizard and sorcerer. Leona could see spells coming back towards them, powerful ones. Great, she thought. There's a Drow sorcerer at the end of this hall. And we're down some of our best people. Then she reminded herself that no one had died, which was very lucky indeed. And Gann did have a plan in case a sorcerer was involved. They were ready to execute it, even with a subset of their full stength.

Deekin stood behind the group and gave them all extra power, resilience, and health. She felt suddenly as if she'd just had a meaty stew and a good night's sleep. Her leg was far from healed, but it throbbed less, and the rest of her body moved so fast that she didn't think much of it. Okku and her bear Honus charged down the corridor with two bears Gann summoned from spirit spells: they attacked just as the spellcasters made the room shine with a shock of blinding light. Leona could barely focus for a few seconds after; but Drow are even worse at recovering from light than humans, and the bears managed to strike several key blows in that short time. There were two evil sorcerers there, so they had their work cut out for them.

They charged as closely together as they could down the long, narrow turn. Leona hung back with her bow, and as soon as her vision returned, she let two arrows fly at once. Again, though magic might not work directly on the Drow, she could use her arcane powers to boost her own talents. Her two arrows flew on the magic to sail off in opposite directions, both hitting their marks. She kept up the same routine until she was tired again, and the sorcerers were defeated. As they walked through, in close ranks, to the trio of rooms ahead, she wondered how she managed not to think of Casavir's fate during that whole fight. She'd been through this kind of distraction only once before, during the Shadow Wars, but it was only toward the end that she'd had true lovers next to her in battle. And then, most of the battles were chaotic, magical things, not controlled attacks with predictable creatures. Her fear was new, and she tried again to push it away until their work was done underground. Maybe it's already moot, and he is dead. First we finish these rooms. I am a fighter now. I will be a lover later.

There was a trio of rooms ahead, and the remaining party searched the outer two first. Each contained several Drow who caused no trouble; they knew the center room was the most important. They approached the narrow doorway cautiously, and saw a large cage to the back that contained the Formian Queen. She was guarded by three Drow, one of whom was a sorceress. She heard them approach and yelled, "You can't have her! We will feed her to the spider Queen, and gain her favor!"

Khelgar chuckled. "The only favor you'll be gettin' is a quick 'n painless death from us."

The attack had to be a little different this time, because the bears could only fit through the entryway if they were alone. They used the same plan of bright light and strike, but it was less effective because their ranks were thinned, and these Drow were also a lot smarter. They kept the best warriors on the closest guard. This would be a tough fight for the tired crew.

The Drow fought the light with their own darkness, and before long the small room was shrouded like a dark cloth had been pulled over its top. The bears retreated so the others could fit in, but Leona and her fellow fighters all used large weapons, and it was hard to swing them in there. The two females she fought used a small blade in each hand, and were acrobatic and stealthy – not to mention used to both the dark and the room itself. She didn't stand a good chance, and she knew it. She crouched down, hoping to get a wide sweep of their legs with her great sword, and when she got low to the ground she had a flashback of Casavir, lying prone and unmoving in the chamber before. Angry at herself and at Fate, she swung wide and hard, taking out one of the Drow with increased strength. But the other anticipated her, and jumped over the both of them, landing at Leona's back. She reached out with one blade, grabbed Leona around her neck, and pulled her back against the wall, blade to throat. She had correctly pegged Leona as a leader, by the way she was looking at the others and gauging how they were faring. An underling would have cared only about herself. Even in the dark, it was obvious she saw herself as part of a larger whole.

"Stop!" yelled the Drow. "We have the human female. You can have the Ant Queen if you leave our leader alive, and give us this one."

Leona realized that their sorceress was their leader, and also must be close to death for them to make such a deal. If the leader was alive but not speaking, they were desperate. That was quick work from Khelgar and Grizelda, who were the only others left in the room except for Gann. She didn't think it was a very fair deal, but you always start by offering less than you expect to give.

Gann's voice returned, sounding lazy as usual. "No, I don't think so."

"You'll get her back eventually," said the Drow. "She's the strongest here. You might not recognize her when she returns, but she'll be even better."

Gann replied as if chatting at a party. "No, she's not the strongest here."

Leona glared at him even though all was dark. She knew he could see her, and she figured he probably had his usual pleasant smile on his face. She hated him at that moment. Why was he toying with the Drow? Not that she cared who thought she was the strongest. It was debatable. But he sounded so confident, and she knew nothing of this plan.

Leona felt the blade cold and sharp against her neck, closer than before. The Drow licked the drops of blood that fell softly from her throat. "I know I would enjoy playing with her for a time."

"Sorry, no deal, ladies. She's the lover of our Queen. The Queen would not allow her to be taken."

"What the fuck?" Leona yelled, too loudly. The dark was getting to her, and she felt very trapped indeed. Also, she felt like she was being played a fool. Why in the world would Gann make her seem even more important and worth taking? He was smarter than that. What was he aiming for? Was this something she was supposed to know?

"Let your Queen come and claim her, then," the Drow said calmly.

Leona kept quiet, closed her eyes, and tried to keep still. What did her other senses tell her in the thick dark? She could hear only breathing in the room, no movement at all. She could barely hear the bears outside, and everyone in the room was panting from their hard work and the tension. The room smelled of sweat, but the air was stale and didn't move at all. She could taste her own blood, and the blade at her throat was too close and too painful. She waited, and as the seeming forever seconds ticked on, she could feel the Drow growing restless behind her. Her muscles were tensing, and Leona wanted to be ready to roll away if she could.

Finally the Drow roared, "Where is your QUEEN? Show yourself! Where are you?"

Ophala said, "Right here," and then the room lit up as if she'd thrown lanterns against all the walls. When all their eyes adjusted, they saw that she had the sorceress' limp body in her arms, victorious. In the split second before Leona's captor could react physically, Neeshka also appeared from nowhere behind her, just as stealthy with her daggers, driving them into the Drow from her back. She was smart enough to start at the arms, so that the Drow would release her hold and Leona could spin away.

Leona was tired enough that she had several thoughts in that split second: how did Ophala and Neeshka get here so quietly? How did Gann know they were coming? Why did Gann put Neeshka, his lover, in such danger like that? Lover, in danger. Where was Casavir?

This series of thoughts made her spin away too slowly, as the Drow slashed at anything within reach. Leona's arms were within reach, and as she spun away her right arm – her bow arm – got hacked badly by the short swords. She fell down from the wound as Neeshka easily finished off the Drow, and then ran to the cage to break the lock for the Formian Queen. Leona was in so much pain, and having such emotions – relief, fear, anger, worry – that she thought she might never get off this dirt floor. She curled up into her pain, and panted shallow breaths until she was too dizzy to care.

Eventually – either a minute or a year later – she knew she had to get back to everyone else, get back to Casavir. She wasn't sure how long she'd lain curled up, and she might be the only one here, or there might be a battle around her again for all she knew. She opened her eyes slowly and used all her strength to breathe through her pain and try to come to her feet. As she lifted her head, a lovely hand came into view, with red polished nails, but blood all over it. It was attached to Ophala. Leona instinctively shied away from it. This is the woman who broke the heart of the man who lay dying somewhere in this cavern. She felt a foolish grudge at a very ridiculous time.

"Come child, don't be foolish. We're not rivals; we're allies here. We won this one. Let's go to the others and you can find your lover."

Leona took the hand like a child would, light and meek, and let herself be pulled to her feet. Ophala brought Honus into the room and settled Leona on him to ride. She rarely rode her bear, but it felt good this time, warm and comforting as only a familiar can be. No one was left but them and Okku; Ophala climbed on him and they rode out past the main chamber where the big battle took place.

In spite of all, Leona said weakly, "I have to admit this is a sight I never thought I'd see."

Okku said, "This sorcerer is quite charming, Leona."

"Yes," she replied dryly. "She's nothing if not charming."

"You must have many questions, child. You may ask them, or rest."

"Where is everyone?"

"We are meeting at the third checkpoint, you know the one where we killed the twin Drow. Easy to remember, no? Gann thinks it will take three or more days to get back out of here, what with the injured. So we will rest there and begin after that, whenever tomorrow happens underground."

Leona was lulled by the furry warmth and the riding. "You know Gann well, then?"

"I have dreamt of him several times."

"So you really know Gann."

"Yes, child. I know him very, very well."

Leona, in her weakened state, still felt childish enough to outdo her once-rival. "You know Gann and I were lovers for a year."

"Then it seems we have two lovers in common. Maybe three, but you're not in a position to talk about that right now."

She was too tired to feel any emotion, and Ophala knew it. Leona said, "You and Bishop. Really."

"He sought out every blonde he could. Trying to replace you, I think. Rest now. All the rest of it in good time."

Leona was trying to figure out how they appeared in that room without making a sound, when she fell fast asleep on Honus, without dreams or thoughts or worries.

Leona awoke when Honus stopped walking, right around the third checkpoint as Ophala predicted. It was an open cavern, for all to move easily in; Gann had made a lot of good decisions today. Leona had faced this scene so many times after a battle: some people were lying down or sitting up, and others were hunched over them talking in low voices. Those least hurt were off in one corner, chuckling softly or reliving their best battle moments. Some were sleeping; Honus was soon one of them. Bears plus caves equals sleep, she thought. And realized it was her first somewhat normal thought all day. She noted that if people were laughing at all, it meant no one had died. She took this to be a good sign.

"Come. I know what you seek." Zhjaeve was next to her, arm pointing the way to the right. Zhjaeve knew her well enough not to bother to tend her wounds yet; she knew she would have to see Casavir first, even for as much pain as she was in. She lightly slid off Honus and made straight for what she thought must be him, against the wall to her right. He had his back to her – ironically much the way he had when she found him in the prison. He was sleeping or unconscious, and she could see his chest rising and falling – so he is breathing. Good. One, two, three, four…all limbs. She studied him and saw him twitch in his sleep. Limb movement. Good. He seemed to be quite well, actually, and relief washed over her.

But then she noticed that her stepfather Daeghun was hovering over him, worried eyes on Leona. Kaelyn, looking haggard and at wits' end, had her hands on his legs as if willing them to do something. She looked not frustrated, but resigned. And she also realized that people were coming up behind her, as if to observe her reaction or offer support. She didn't want an audience for whatever bad news she was about to receive. She felt mortified, and angry at those who wished her well.

"Kaelyn. Can you tell me privately?"

"Of course. Let's go over by your bear."

Leona limped back over to Honus and leaned into his thick fur again. She was careful to keep her back to the group. Her face and its expressions had to be private, now. She already felt sick to her stomach. She told herself it was from her blood loss.

"I don't understand. He's alive, and has use of limbs."

"Yes he does. But…he's not…I'm trying to…Leona, he's not healing well."

"So? He's healing, isn't he? Or is he dying?"

"No, he will recover." Kaelyn spoke this as if she regretted the fact.

"Kaelyn, I'm not following you."

"He is not healing as quickly as he should."

"SO?"
"So, he is a Paladin."

Leona stopped to take that in, because she wasn't following the logic. Paladins heal quickly. He is a Paladin but not healing quickly. Kaelyn was right; that didn't add up. Paladins heal from holy power. There are no exceptions. If he wasn't healing, he wasn't a Paladin. If he wasn't healing…

"Oh, no. Oh, no no no. No. It can't be. Kaelyn, it can't be."

How glad she was that her face was away from the others. Kaelyn had figured it out, and many of them had too. It wasn't unusual for a Paladin's glow to fade when injured, so that alone was not a clue. But if he wasn't healing quickly, it was certain: Casavir had lost his connection with the Gods. He had fallen from grace. He was alive, and he would heal. But when he woke up again, he would want to be dead. She too, would rather that he'd died than watch him suffer this humiliation.

Her wave of grief and pity quickly turned into self-blame. She shouldn't have let him come. Somewhere along this journey he made decisions that broke his connections with the Gods, the source of his holy power. He could cast no spells, heal no people, sway no enemies. Now he was nothing more than a kind man with a good sword arm.

"Where is Ophala?" she asked in a loud voice, not turning around to look for herself.

"I am here." Ophala shuffled over to her. "I want to talk with you too, child. But you must first see to your own wounds. He will sleep a long time. Let your mind process and your body heal."

"You knew him before he was Paladin."

"Yes. The man practically had a sign on him that said Paladin in training. He was never anything but, in word or deed."

Leona's legs went out from under her, making her slide down into Honus like he was a chair. "What will become of him? How will he live with himself? How will I live with myself?"

Ophala's pretty but bloody hand was on hers again, for the second time that day. "First. You have not asked how you will live with each other. I know for a fact you have lived through stranger times than this." They both smiled at that.

"Second. Did he think he was fallen when in the prison?"

"Oh, yes. But he never stopped his devotions."

"And he never will. Child, you're stuck with a self-righteous man. He will never think he is doing wrong. If he starts to think the Gods are wrong, the Gods had better look out."

Leona smiled again in spite of herself. "Isn't that, strangely, why we are here in the first place?"

"Indeed. He will survive it. I know his kind, child. Men like him are too much knight and too little man. They need to learn how to live like men first, and knights second. He needs the prison that is this freedom, just maybe."

Leona let Kaelyn set her wounds while she thought that Gann had said something similar to her about the Manor Prison. That freedom was its own prison, and that it had to be something you chose. Did he choose this path, or did the Gods guide him there to be let down? It didn't matter now. She lay down in front of him, wrapped his sleeping arms around her, and thought as she settled in that he would never glow again while they slept. For the first time she slept in the arms of Casavir the man, but she had to admit that it felt exactly the same as it always had. That small comfort let her sleep her many troubles away until the cave-morning came, and they were off again.

The party set out for the cave entrance sometime the next morning – it was hard to tell when they were always underground. Safiya could walk but only slowly, so she rode with Leona on Okku – Leona's leg was gashed enough to slow her down as well. Though a tattered bunch, the rest of them could walk, but slowly. Casavir was still unconscious, and both healers expected he'd stay that way for some time. He rode on Honus, alongside the other bear.

After stopping for a rest and division of what little provisions they had left, they took off again towards the cave mouth. If they hurried – which was difficult – they might make it without having to sleep again. Each was tense and a little stir crazy except for Khelgar and Grizelda (the dwarves), who were just as happy underground as above. Khelgar even discovered some gems hidden in the walls, and he and Grizelda giggled like children as they dumped the small loot bag out over their laps.

Leona had general anxiety about what would happen, but mostly as they neared the end of the cave, she was relieved they were all alive. They would recover from their fatigue, or even the wounds they sustained. She hoped they would all at least live until their primary mission was attempted. It would be a shame to come so far with such noble, lofty goals, and then die at the hands of Drow hundreds of meters underground.

They hardly made any noise, so tired were they; which is why when Casavir awoke and started screaming, the sound jumped around the cave walls, scaring everyone. They were already jumpy, hungry, and worn out; they were already speaking in hushed tones and conserving energy. Each of them had battled twice as long and hard as Casavir had, since he was cut down so early. Even the idea of screaming seemed more trouble than it was worth. To hear someone else do it was almost as painful. Many of the party covered their ears, sensitive to the echo off the cave walls.

Casavir screamed and screamed, as if gripped in a terror he couldn't wake from. They were taking turns touching him, alternating between soft and hard responses. Hands and raised voices were suddenly everywhere. Someone held him close; someone slapped him. Leona was trying to grab his face and hold it close to hers, to see if he might recognize her. When, suddenly, Ophala did the same thing to her.

"Think! Think. What is his native tongue?"

Leona's head was muddled with the screaming and urgency. "We all speak the same…"

"No! No. I mean, behavior. What language does his body speak? Is it anger? Rage? Shame? You need to figure it out. He's beyond words, now. Only actions will do."

Leona covered her head with her arms, to block out sight and sound as best she could. What language, what language. She reached for Ophala.

"Does it change?"

"Over one's life? Yes, certainly yes. When I knew him, I would have said self-loathing was his language. I don't believe that's now the case. What will get through to him, Leona? Think!"

She knew the answer in her gut, but didn't want to say it, though ironically Ophala of all people would understand. Sex. The only language Casavir truly spoke since the Manor prison was sex.

She pushed through the crowd easily – they parted for her – and she prayed she was right. Funny thing to be praying for sex to be the key to this lock, and funny thing that she was praying at all, since they were only doing this because the Gods had disowned him in the first place. She grabbed the back of his head, and pulled his screaming mouth towards her own, catching it in a kiss. It wasn't romantic or sweet to kiss someone dirty and screaming, when you yourself were bloody from battle. Even though she loved him deeply, it took effort. She closed her eyes, thought of the prison days, and tried to channel that energy.

Instantly the thread caught him like a fishhook. All Casavir put into the scream now poured directly into her, through a kiss. It was hard-edged, animal, and not very pleasant. She who had once devoured souls to stay alive, got the terrible feeling she was being devoured herself. It took all her strength not to fight him, because fear was setting in, bringing back memories of her soul devourer curse.

As she went on being the scapegoat for Casavir's Fall from Grace, she remembered the entire party was around them. She became more and more aware of them, many of whom turned away or kept walking, to give them privacy. They all knew about the Manor prison and how it had changed both of them; those who had been there felt some of its power too. She knew some of the party would stay and wait, make sure she was safe. She heard Neeshka snicker to Qara, "Heh. Weren't you just saying the man had no passion? Think you were dead wrong, sister."

Leona knew his body well, and readied herself for any break in his need. As soon as she felt his body relax slightly, she pulled away just a bit, and put her forehead to his. "Hey. Hey, look. Look around. Hey, there are people here." She tried to use as few words as possible, and not even his name. She didn't want to tie in any recall. But she also didn't want to have sex in front of her entire party, just to calm him down. He'd been a man of great restraint, holy-level restraint, as long as she knew him. Surely he had a little of that left, even now?

Casavir closed his eyes and swallowed, wincing at was probably a sore throat after all the screaming. His clear blue eyes studied her, as if remembering who she was, even though his body obviously recognized her. He didn't look around; he was just staring at her. If he wanted a cue, she wasn't sure which one to give.

Leona gave him a chaste, closed-lip kiss on his mouth, and smiled at him in welcome. She was still afraid to speak. In peripheral vision she could see Gann and Ophala – no surprise that those two hadn't shied away from display of affection – and Sand and Safiya. Honus stayed, as always, to make sure she was safe. Neeshka was also there, closer than she'd ever stood to Casavir. She had always been uncomfortable around his holy power, and now seemed giddy to be able to get close to someone so righteous. All these people knew well what the prison had done to them, to him. It did, perhaps, break his spirit more than this Fall from Grace had.

Someone handed over a little water, and he drank it clumsily, as if remembering how to use his arms and throat. He was still looking at Leona, searching for something. Finally, he spoke, but softly, and hoarse.

"It's the same."

Leona paused. "What is?"

"The world. The world looks the same to me."

"As it did before?"

"Yes."

Ah, so he did know what happened. She had wondered if she would have to explain it to him, and was relieved he already could sense the changes.

Casavir sat up more, and winced again at sore muscles and joints. "Status?"

Leona was surprised to hear him talking battle, before talking about the obvious. He wanted to know who was hurt, or dead. The procedure was common after battles, but this was no common battle. Was he trying to be normal? Surely he couldn't be unaffected by what had happened to him?

"Safiya was injured the worst, but she'll be fine. Then you, and you are healing. My bow arm and right leg are slashed. Neeshka lost a lot of blood."

"No one was lost."

"Correct."

He was silent for a long time. Then he finally said, "Let's move." They did, and no one spoke again until they were out in fresh air, many hours later.

Leona had never been so happy to see the sky as when they emerged from the cave. It was just after dusk; a few stars were out. She and her stepfather went on a quick hunt, invigorated by the air. They should have been asleep on their feet, but they were so happy to be running, chasing, drawing bows, that nothing mattered. Leona borrowed Deekin's crossbow because she couldn't pull her right arm back.

Daeghun wasn't known for conversation, but as they pulled the animals back to the fire for a group supper, he said, "It's not the end for him, you know. I've known others like him."

Daeghun was always hard to read. "Do you mean he'll return to Grace, or learn a life without it?"

"Doesn't matter. There's a future either way."

Leona grunted as the weight of the deer shifted her leg into painful pressure. "I know that. I hope he does."

"He does. If he didn't, he'd be dead already."

"By whose hand?"

"His own, of course. I've known others like that, too."

Leona sighed.

"What keeps him going is the surety that he's doing right. For all his self-hatred he has few regrets, you know."

She stopped, under pretense of talking further, but really wanted to rest her leg. "What makes you such a Paladin expert, Foster Father?"

He smiled lopsided. "I know something about self-righteousness. You are lucky in that you share his ideals. Otherwise you would just be in his way."

Leona knew one thing. She did not want to be in Casavir's way.

The exchange with the Formians had gone well. Their Queen had been tortured and quite broken, but she would heal, physically at least. The Formians vowed to aid the party in the future when needed. Because Casavir had been the one who spoke with them first, he received a scroll promising he could summon them for aid. He made it through the exchange, saying little and nodding slightly when spoken to. The Formians didn't seem to notice anything different about him, so everyone acted as if that was the case.

Tired as they all were, once business was done and food was eaten, the scene turned almost party-like. They had strayed far from the cave area in case there were Drow-friendly surface-dwellers. Neeshka and Gann had taken some ale from a stockpile at a nearby farm; no one, not even Casavir, chastised them for it. Leona, too, was sure the farmers would gladly have donated, it if they knew what the party had cleared out of their cave for them.

Leona limped over to her lover, leg more and more sore after the evening hunt. In the background, Grobnar was singing and Qara and Neeshka were dancing. It was the kind of revelry people can only have after a brush with death. When she arrived at Casavir's side, she was surprised to see Sand sitting close to him – close enough to invade his personal space, which was rare for Casavir to allow. They both looked up at her, and she felt suddenly that she'd interrupted something important.

Quick not to offend, Sand said, "Come, sit. I was just giving Casavir some unsolicited advice."

Leona studied Casavir and was amazed again how different she seemed from when she met him. He used to be…the only word for it was "rigid." He was unmoving in conviction, with straight posture, on guard always. There were the Bishop incidents, where he unhinged a little, and then the great, trying Shadow Wars…then straight to the Manor Prison, and untimely rescue, and now this. She saw before her simply a man: a fallible, vulnerable man. It was new to her, and she admitted that she liked it. That he could accept Sand into his space and his company spoke volumes for how open and fluid he had become – to his credit. She hoped he didn't see it as a failure, now.

"And that advice was?" She sat across from them and rested her leg across Casavir's.

"I think that while he is not constrained by holy practice, he should live as men usually do, taste that side of life. It may be his only chance to do so. See it as gathering wisdom. It is an education available to him only now." Sand turned away from Leona and towards her lover. "You could see it as reconnaissance, of another species, while you visit their lands for a time."

When Casavir spoke his voice was pure gravel from screaming. "You speak as if I will return to Paladin. But my beliefs won't go underground, Sand. I am convinced this is the way."

"You'd be surprised how often Gods reward that perseverance. You could very well be back in Grace again tomorrow. Meaning, of course, that you missed tonight's opportunity to live as any man would."

Casavir stared into the distance. Leona figured he was probably imagining what "any man" would do on a night like tonight. Yes, he'd been pious. Did he have impulses he wished he could let loose? Could he remember, even, what they had been, after all these years of suppressing them?

"I'm with 'im. Restraint is overrated, old friend." Khelgar wandered over, clearly full of ale. He earned it, thought Leona. He picked up all the fighting Casavir would've done.

Sand grimaced. "I didn't say exactly that. I am quite fond of restraint."

"Come on, man," continued the dwarf. "What would ye do if ye had no one to answer to for it? Within reason, of course, I mean, you're a good man inside, eh?"

Casavir was quiet through all this, staring into space as if making decisions. Normally he spoke few words because he seemed to be holding back. Now, he just seemed to have nothing to add. Leona stayed quiet too. She had a thousand questions for him, but thought she should let him figure himself out before she bombarded him with the selfish.

"Yes," Casavir finally said. "There are a few things I suppose I would like to do." He stood up, weaving a little on his feet, still weak from the changes. "I think I would like to try a mug of that ale."

"Well, knock me over with a feather from Tyr's fanny," Khelgar said. "Please, let me be the one to get it. Will wonders never cease." As he passed Leona he whispered (a stage whisper, so all too loudly), "I was only half-kidding when I told 'im to let loose. 'Ope he doesn't blame me in the morning, eh?" And he hurried off to get an ale, deliver it, and watch with pure glee as Casavir drank it down like thirsty men do.

"Ho. Ly. Shit." said Neeshka, from across the campfire. "Did I just see something I never thought I would see?"

"Hush, lover," Gann said. "He's coming this way." And in fact he was, maybe a little less steady now, but he was headed right for them.

"Gannayev," he said as he approached.

"Casavir. What can I do for you tonight? You know I'm never at a loss for words, and I can tell you now that –"

Casavir may not have had holy powers any more, but he was a strong, fast warrior all the same. His fist shot out so quickly into Gann's jaw that Gann actually flew backward several feet, landing on his back. Neeshka sucked in her voice; Elanee screamed. Khelgar let loose a thunderous belly laugh. Especially because after punching him that hard, Casavir actually offered Gann a hand up – and he took it.

It took that long for Leona to hobble over to the men, and when she saw Gann upright again he was laughing too. "Heh," he said, rubbing his chin, "I knew you had that in you, but I never thought I'd be lucky enough to see it. Or unlucky enough to feel it. To what do I owe the honor?"

"I don't like that you got to have Leona while I was unable to."

"Well-played, then, friend. Neeshka, have you any crazy ex-lovers who might do me the same harm?"

"Tons. But they'd sooner creep up and stick a knife between your ribs."

"Good thing I never sleep, then. Come, Leona, how do you like your new, angry lover?"

To her surprise, everyone seemed to be laughing – even Casavir had cracked a smile. Was it the ale? The relief post-battle? No one was going to fight tonight. She was ready to have to peel the two men off each other. But strangely, Casavir held the same nobility, the same class: just a little less restraint. He didn't seem to mind the lapse in self-control. He was almost grinning, now, shaking his hand out to ease the joints he'd worked too hard with a solid punch. He strode to her side, and with as little warning as the punch, he kissed her with such force that her feet almost left the ground. Safiya whooped, and then everyone started to echo her hollers. Casavir whispered in her ear, "It is blissful to be this free."

To her own surprise, she tensed. She never thought Casavir wasn't free. She thought he chose his path. He made it sound like he'd been released from a curse, and that made her wary. She was betting he was devastated from his release from the Gods' service. Before his fall, he surely used sex as release from emotions. He walked that line very carefully. Now, she wasn't sure what he might do, freed from the boundaries of holy service.

After the cheers and catcalls, the party turned away from them as they did in the caves. Casavir pulled Leona into the dark of the forest, away from their eyes and most of their sounds. This wasn't all that different from what they might have done another night; but he reminded her of how he'd been the night he came to her after she'd been with Bishop. "Almost feral," she remembered telling Ophala. "He was hurting." He'd come to her since in anger, and she'd soothed him with that language they now spoke so fluently since the Manor Prison. But those times, he was letting something out. Tonight he was letting something go. Was this better?

"Stop," she said. She didn't really want him to stop; she wanted to see if he would. It was important to know how much control he could muster, just the two of them out here.

He stopped, and looked at her.

"You can't be happy right now. It defies explanation."

"I am not happy right now. I am miserable."

"All right, then."

"That's the answer you were hoping for?"

"No, but that's the truth. I needed to know you knew it."

Casavir closed the space between them, and spoke in his newly graveled voice, close to her neck. "I am very, very angry. I am so angry that I am sure you can see sparks on me. But I am trying to accept in – maybe rejoice in – being my own boss."

She spoke back to his neck. "But there are still consequences."

"Consequences, yes. But nothing else, except my anger. Not anymore."

He kissed her, slowly, showing a lot of the restraint she wasn't sure he had left. For a self-claimed angry man, he seemed tender and careful. Then he pulled back and stared at her in the dark.

"Will you renounce me?"

"What? No! I did not love you because of your title."

"What would it take for you to renounce me?"

She paused. She had to get this right. "It would take a truly evil act, that hurt someone else, and you didn't care."

"Like, for instance, letting the enemy through during a battle."

Leona threw her arms up. "Here we go. We have an important moment, and Bishop appears."

But Casavir seemed strangely calm, not seething with anger as when he usually spat Bishop's name. He was, truly, studying her, instead of picking a fight. "I need to know your boundaries. You did not renounce him. Why?"

"Because he started out evil. It was all about where he got from where he was going. By the time he died, he was a lot more 'good' than when we met him. I think that should count for something."

"And I? Have nowhere to go but down?"

She genuinely didn't know what to say. Finally, she said: "That would imply you were perfect. Anyone can improve."

He closed the distance again. "Let me be better than I was, then."

"You sure can try."

Casavir leaned in for a kiss, and Leona returned it, trying to push the worries she still entertained to the back of her mind. Even when things were rocky between them – which was often lately, even before today – passion was never lacking, and always redemptive.

Just then her sensitive ears heard someone coming through the woods. Her body tensed; of course Casavir noticed. He repeated, "Everything looks the same. It should to you, as well."

She ignored his words and pulled away, drawing a weapon and looking around. "Someone is coming."

He didn't try to continue their conversation, or their kiss, but followed her lead and drew his weapon as well, moving until he was almost back to back with her. They had defended territory together so many times before; they moved in synchrony, instinctively inching together towards a cleared area where they would have more room to fight if needed. Leona pinpointed the direction of the noise, and turned toward it. Casavir stepped out and in front of her; he had always done that, even though they both knew she was a superb fighter on her own. Through the clearing Leona saw a white top and a flash of wings. "It's Kaelyn." They both relaxed their weapons, and then she smiled a little, and touched his back. "You don't need to jump in front of me anymore, Casavir."

"It will always be my duty to protect you. My oath to you has not Fallen; nor has my duty to do what's right."

Leona couldn't help but roll her eyes, but she was smiling as well when he turned back to her, never fully giving his back to the approaching Kaelyn. He's become the warrior again, never showing his back, she thought. Even if he's Fallen, his values are the same. No wonder he's confused.

Kaelyn approached slowly, and made clear she was not a threat, spreading her wings in a way that somehow looked friendly instead of menacing. "I came to speak with Casavir. I do apologize if I interrupt you both."

"No Kaelyn, it's fine. Come on over." Leona sheathed her weapon, but kept her hand on it. She felt edgy, and wanted the feel of her hand on the hilt.

Kaelyn moved closer. "I saw the way you two left. I know it's not a good time to follow you, and I'm sorry. But I must speak with the Paladin."

"About?" said Casavir.

"About my own Fall. You know that I was once Angel to the Gods, and that I was considered their most lawful messenger. Once I led the first Crusade, They stripped me of my Lawful status. I have been waiting to talk to you about your Fall. I believe I can be a resource for you."

Leona suddenly felt her own brand of protective as she moved closer to Casavir. He seemed so quickly turned into a child, open to anything. What a sheltered life he'd led; how much he had missed. She was concerned that everyone around him was telling him to let go. How would he take this advice? Would he, next time, do more than punch Gann or kiss her in public? She didn't want him encouraged in that direction. But she literally bit her tongue. It was not for her to make these decisions for him.

"Come, join us. And I believe..." He tasted the words like speaking a new language. "I believe…I owe you an apology." Then he said, "I would like Leona to stay."

"Certainly," said Kaelyn. "We've adventured together; we know each other as well as two can."

Kaelyn sat down across from them in the clearing, and took a deep breath, as if to begin meditation. "For how long," she asked Casavir, "had you done daily devotions to your God? And who is it?"

"Tyr was my – is my God." He shook his head after his verbal mistake. "I had been devoting daily for..." he looked up to his right, as if he could see Tyr in the night sky. "Ten years."

"Wow," said Leona. To devote to her God, she always cut a piece of food she hunted or collected, and threw it into the fire. Her holy ritual tied into her own rhythms. Casavir's rituals, on the other hand, dictated the rest everything else in his life. But that was life, for a Paladin. When she thought of it that way, she wasn't surprised how relieved he was, how burdensome it must have seemed.

"Do you miss them?"

Casavir paused. "I miss feeling useful because of them."

"A fair answer." Kaelyn stood up and stretched. "You know, I am technically neutral now. I am no longer Lawful, in the eyes of the Gods." She made direct eye contact with Casavir. "But I am still and always, Good."

"This I aim to also be."

"And, ironic as it may be, I am still and always pious."

Leona breathed a sigh of relief. Kaelyn was not here to tell him to sow his wild oats, like everyone else was. She was reminding him of his holy roots. She seemed to imply it would be dangerous to let them go completely.

Casavir said nothing. He kept eye contact with her.

"Paladin. The difference between you today and you three days ago is your power level. Your values remain. Your lover remains. Your reason for being here remains. Your sense of justice remains. It is essential that you remember that."

"I do. I feel a strong sense I am doing right. I feel…somehow unburdened by doubt over my decisions." He paused again, and then said, "They are mine, and mine alone."

Leona reached out for him. She had known him for years and had never seen him say or express this emotion. It almost seemed like the Gods had done him a favor. But how could it be this easy?

"Did you come to acceptance this quickly?" Leona couldn't help but ask. She gestured towards her lover. "He doesn't seem to be mourning at all."

"It took me a long time, it's true," Kaelyn said. "But I live a long life. I'm centuries old. We are a patient people, and I am descended from angels. When you feel abandoned by family, well, this is a harder blow."

She continued. "That was the first thing I wanted to tell you: to stay Good. To stay Just. The other is this: though you may feel your God deserted you, this may not be the case. It is possible that He knows exactly what He is doing. It is possible He is bound under intricate laws over which even He has no control. You'd be amazed the tales I've heard, through the years. Gods make bets. Gods fight wars. Gods plot against each other, go behind backs, go above heads. All of these affect us. Sadly, we are often pawns, sometimes even for Their amusement, or sometimes disregarded altogether.

"Paladin, if you felt Tyr loved you, He loved you. Gods do not play subtle with esteem. I encourage you to continue your devotions. They are part of you, and your relationship with your God. The good news is they can be on your terms now. But it would be unwise – and also potentially dangerous for you and those you love – to disown Tyr. I am certain He did not disown you. You just disagree right now. You can do what is Right and devote to your God at the same time."

Leona felt moved by Kaelyn's speech, and glanced at Casavir to see if it had the same effect on him. He was looking up at the sky with wet eyes. Kaelyn had touched on something Leona hadn't even thought of at first – the relationship with Tyr that was cut off. It was like losing a loved one. Maybe an ale with friends was more rewarding than devotions, on one immediate level. But it hadn't occurred to Leona that over ten years, Casavir came to believe he was visiting a friend, each time he entered the Temple. Casavir couldn't help but feel Tyr turned his back on one of his most trusted. Gann's punch and her aggressive kiss came from the same place everything came from with Casavir: rage. He could control it no better now than he did while he was Holy.

His eyes met Leona's. He started, "If I see pity on your face…" but then turned away, ashamed of his own fury. Then he looked at Kaelyn for a long time, letting his face show the thanks his mouth wouldn't put words to.

Then he said only, "Don't call me Paladin, anymore."

The days were hard journeying, with lots of movement and little rest. Leona asked the healers to put most of their efforts on her into her bow arm. She always felt unsettled when one of her arms wasn't working – their use was literally life or death. Because of the focus on her arm, she was still limping slightly, and her leg was screaming by the end of each day's journey, when she'd set out to hunt for food for the party with Daeghun and a few others. In the cool evenings she rode on Honus, and was as close to happy as she could get, out in nature and away from her problems.

Though as before, she and Casavir met with passion by night, by days they spoke little of anything important. His behavior was just different enough to notice; he seemed strangely more self-comfortable, and put others at ease as well. She would often come upon him sitting closely with Neeshka, smiling or playing cards, which never would have happened before. Casavir was always a charming man, but it was tempered by the sense that he had high standards, and you would never meet them. Now, he was all the charm without the intimidation, and most of the party drew to him like steel to magnet. For some it was novelty; for some, genuine enjoyment of his company.

Leona had trepidation about it. He made the transition too easily, and only she (and maybe Kaelyn) knew how much anger he held inside over his Fall. It was not what she'd expected when she heard the news. She expected him to be disconsolate, depressed, gripped by paralyzing sadness. She did not expect physical expressions of rage, and worried his stability had hairline cracks no one could see. She would have to support him through the break, and pick up his pieces after it. She found herself resenting everyone who got to laugh with him, when the hard emotional work would be left for her.

But she knew she had few choices right now. The party was in the usual relsease-from-a-tense situation that happens before an important adventure. No one wanted gravity right now. But she knew she could either confront Casavir, or join him. Her plan, as much as she had one, was to do both.

Casavir had a very relaxed pose against a log, one knee up while leaning back with a mug of ale, next to Khelgar. They were recounting together a battle they'd had in a small town before the Shadow Wars. Casavir was still, as always, relatively stone-faced compared to the others, but Khelgar was practically in tears of laughter while telling Grizelda the story. Leona asked herself if she liked him this way; surely she did. But she felt it was somehow synthetic, transitional. It wasn't the time for a heart-to-heart, so she sat down nearby with her own ale on a nearby stump.

"He sure doesn't do anything half-assed, does he?" Ophala had appeared, and rustled her sorcery robe so she could sit along the same log.

"No, he doesn't."

"You are afraid for him. Don't be."

"You say this, when you'll be back to business later, and I'll be back to a shattered lover. I'll have a lot of emotional work to do, and you know it."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. In the meantime, even he is seizing the day. And you are sitting on a stump too far away from his body."

"You're right. But I don't want to give him the impression I think this act is fine with me."

"Surely there is middle ground between here and there."

"Perhaps."

"Anyway. If it's not an act?"

Leona stared at his relaxed shoulders and easy stance. "How can it be anything but?"

"Child, nobody acts that well. He's genuinely relieved of a burden. He is reveling. Revel with him."

"Spoken by the very Queen of revelry."

Ophala stood up, not taking the bait. "I'm telling you, I think you should take a page from his book, Leona. You could use a little letting go yourself. Do as he does."

Leona stood up as well, quite a bit taller than Ophala. "Ophala, you are absolutely right. I should do exactly as he does. I'll begin with –"

Leona threw a punch at Ophala's jawline. Her favored arm was mostly healed but didn't have its full force; all the same it knocked Ophala back. Ophala was a first-rate sorceress; Leona would have been afraid to battle against her. But she could throw a better punch against a half-elf, and it felt divine.

Just as Casavir did, she offered a hand out; and just like Gann, Ophala took it. "There," Leona said. "Now I am very much like him indeed."

A few of the party had gathered around them, blocking Leona as if she was planning on another punch. But she was satisfied with the one. Ophala was visibly a little shaken, which surprised Leona. In a voice bigger than her body language, she said, "And you want to tell me, too, what that was for?"

"Same reason as Casavir. I am angry that you were with him when I couldn't be."

Ophala smiled, more like a grimace with her swollen jaw. "You didn't even know him then!"

"But I know what happened to him because of you. I resent you for it."

Ophala straightened. "Ask him yourself if it was because of me. Settle it right here, right now. He was a man and made his own choices then, and he's a man and makes his own choices now. For the Gods' sake, allow him the freedom of his own mistakes! He and only he deserves the credit and the blame. Only he. Let him be the man he is!"

Casavir was there, between them. Gann was there too. In a too-loud voice Gann said, "Right here is the difference between us and them, friend. We were already laughing by now. They look like they're ready for round two."

"No," Leona said. "No. She's right." But they still glared daggers at each other. "She's totally and completely right." And with that she grabbed her bow and headed towards the forest, not looking back to see if anyone would follow.

Honus caught up to her several yards in, and she walked slowly beside him, taking in the sounds and scents of the forest they slept in. No matter how foreign the land, when Leona was outside she was home. It made her the perfect adventurer, always at ease during long distances. It always smoothed her out inside. She hunted a bit, listened for new animal sounds, followed her favorite constellations across the sky. Hours later she returned, when most of the party was asleep or close to. Casavir was alone with Deekin at the dying fire. He looked up, emotionless, when she approached. Deekin, always sensitive, moved away and prepared himself for the night watch.

She dropped her weapons and hunting spoils down beside him, and then set her tired leg up on the log. She gave him a long look. "Are you for real?"

"You doubt my sincerity?"

"I do. I think you're working very hard to mask your terror at what's happened to you."

"I do miss Tyr. How could he disown me: I who He actually spoke directly to. It doesn't make sense. I am very angry, yes, but I'm confused, too: I know I am doing right here. I am doing right by you, and all the Faithless. And all of us. I know it."

She stayed quiet.

"But Leona. Knighthood is such a heavy, heavy responsibility. And what I've had to…I mean the suffering we've…" He stopped, trying to find the right words. She put her arm around him as if he was cold, which was laughable; he was closer to the fire, and quite capable of warming himself. She also didn't want him to have to explain himself. But he seemed to want to, so he thought about it until he tried again to clarify.

"Consider this. Think about the Neverwinter Nine, the elite King's guard. You know I have the highest respect for their Order. I was almost one myself. But. How much fighting or adventuring do they ever really see! How often do they have to make decisions for entire groups, or manage whole armies! They weren't sent off to fight the Shadow Wars, were they? We were. They maintain their Paladin status with ease; I had to struggle for mine. Those Paladins are never in danger of Falling; they make no decisions for themselves."

It was a revelation. He was right: those Paladins would never Fall, but instead stay the course their whole lives. They didn't have to make the hard choices because the King made all their decisions, and they had only one charge: to protect him directly. They certainly never had to share camp with evil rangers, or other species, or thieves. Casavir had led a very colorful career, and he'd been tested every day of that career. It made sense, given his depth, that he would stray from the mundane. When you think of it that way, thought Leona, it's a wonder he hadn't Fallen sooner. He had to have been very, very tired of staying the course. Especially with women like Ophala and me to lead him astray. But, no. I can't be selfish here. This is his plight.

She spoke. "What you're saying is you don't blame yourself. And you shouldn't."

"I hate to say this aloud, Leona. I am…I admit that I am…disappointed in Tyr. I thought He knew more of me than just my devotion. He blessed my union with you. He accepted me after the Manor prison, and practically apologized for His lack of presence there. His support has been…nearly paternal. This is odd. It's…He let me down. Forgive me, but I believe that."

She nodded, tears in her eyes, and put her arms out. Casavir had voiced a very brave sentiment. That one sentiment was full of his own understanding of what he was worth. This was new to him, and why, she figured, he looked now always as if he was unraveling a puzzle inside his head. It was novel, to be this self-assured. He knew in his gut he was worthy; he didn't rely on anyone else's words to tell him, not even a God's. He wasn't striving, anymore, to be good enough. It was pure irony that without his Paladin-hood, Casavir was much more confident and clear-headed. She saw none of the self-loathing that plagued him for years since they met at the Old Owl Well. He had done his very best to measure up, and now that he hadn't, he didn't find himself lacking; he found the Gods lacking.

"You, my dear," she said, "sound perfectly suited for a mission to bring down the Wall of the Faithless."

"This is the real me, Leona. This is who I am right now."

"Tell me. Are you enjoying your dip into the pool of debauchery?"

He smiled. "Ale tastes very good."

Leona laughed, and kissed him goodnight. Tomorrow, she thought, she might very well revel with him all day long.

Kaelyn, having led three crusades to the Wall already (counting Leona's), had a network of warriors ready to launch a fourth. At this point, even though they still had far to journey, Kaelyn needed to pause often along the way to gather information, track down spies, or round up willing fighters. Her army was actually quite large. But they had to be stealthy with their approach. Kelemvor would be alerted if hundreds began a slow trek to a land they weren't even supposed to know about. Not that an army would do any good against a God. But still, she gathered forces.

Because of this, the party spent a lot of time waiting. They eventually made their way to the Academy of Shapers and Binders, where Safiya had once been headmistress. There was plenty of lodging; it was relatively safe; and it was relatively central to the mission. There was a portal to the Supplicants' Gate there, which is where they would begin the Crusade when they were ready. There at the gate, there were always protesters against the Wall, and always defenders of it, too. It was always a rallying place, for all kinds of quests. Before they traveled there, Safiya and Gann both had heard that bartering took place there, and alliances were formed there. And they could get to it easily, from the Academy.

Though each was tempted to rush to the Wall and start hacking, that wasn't smart. Kelemvor had told them already he could banish them with but a thought. Amassing more bodies was little more than signing a petition, but necessary all the same.

Regardless, with dismissive thought from a God, and it didn't matter if they were a dozen or a million strong – the effect would be the same. So during this waiting period, the team also had to strategize. Since out-fighting the God wasn't an option – and both Kaelyn and Leona had tried and failed to reason Kelemvor out of keeping the Wall – they had to find another way to succeed. They spent days listing who in the party was new to the Wall, and what each might offer Kelemvor. They talked about bringing Myrkal, who created the Wall, back to argue against it. But this was too risky because Myrkal was an unpleasant and ineffective God, and should He try to overthrow another God the results would be disastrous. Occasionally during these talks, someone would offer to die and see if they could change something from the inside. They made lists of Gods they might recruit to the cause. Did Kelemvor have enemies? Who would benefit from the Wall's collapse? Ophala was calling in pub and prostitution contacts to see if the industries of sin would take interest in the idea of fewer God-driven consequences.

They all knew a siege on the Wall was inevitable, but in the meantime provisions were taken care of, and everyone had space from everyone else. Training areas were ample, and planning was methodical. So, amazingly, no tensions ran high yet. Everyone was ready to go, as soon as they had the plan and the manpower.

In the meantime, the party was relaxed. They would gather in small groups at night for games or drinking (or both). Wounds, both physical and emotional, were healing, and they were getting to know each other better and be comfortable as a team. Leona couldn't help but see this as positive, since once they began the siege, it would be an ordeal for all involved. With Casavir, she found an uneasy peace for now. He was fun and easy to be around, and open to others in a way that pleasantly surprised her. And he was developing a fond friendship with Neeshka, who would never even go near him before. This all pleased her. But she couldn't shake the feeling that another shoe was about to drop, and it made her uneasy even as she tried to enjoy her new, lighthearted lover.

After two weeks of waiting, there was a rumble of restlessness in the ranks. Although they were all still training, some were worried they would grow soft. All were worried of growing soft mentally, in a place where they were literally no longer hungry.

Finally, in one of their many stalled strategy sessions, Leona said what she'd said dozens of times before: "If you'd seen the Wall…" Kaelyn had said the same thing to them when they all met. She repeated that this is what it would take.

"There are more of us here," Leona said, "who have not seen the Wall, than those of us who have. Kaelyn said it herself: Once you see the Wall, you will not stop until it is destroyed. It is an abomination. To stay hungry, we need to remind ourselves how horrific it is."

Gann called out from the back corner, smoke drifting from his pipe. "Some might argue that we are being prideful, deciding what is abomination and what is fairness." He was goading them, as he certainly did not argue that, and never did.

"No one in this room would argue that," Sand said.

"Not anymore," Casavir said. Leona took his hand under the table.

"Does one just stroll in and take a peek?" asked Khelgar.

"No," said Kaelyn. "But I know another way. We have to get in to see the Wall before we attack it. You need to be inspired before limbo takes over."

Kaelyn's grandfather Fierentila was a solar, which means he was one hundred percent angel. She said that mortals could barely look upon him without blindness, when he was at full strength. It was from him she first heard the story of the Spirit Eater curse that Leona had. Kaelyn, like everyone elese (except Okku the Bear) had not known any other God of the Dead besides Kelemvor. But her grandfather was so old that he had lived through the famous Time of Troubles. During this, Gods were banished to live among mortals, and chaos ensued. Fierentila remembered the warring factions of Gods, forming alliances with the names of colors to identify them. The wars were bloody, and many mortals were lost fighting for their deity's right to rule. Those were her bedtime stories as a child.

Once Fierentila even showed her the seals each of the Gods' alliances had used. Her favorite was always the Gray Alliance, whose crest swooped and swirled in ways mortal drawings could never match. The Gray Alliance was so named because those Gods – he would never tell her which ones – believed there were shades of gray in the world. Just like she did. From a young age she believed she saw the world differently than the angels around her – maybe because she wasn't full-blooded angel? She, too, saw the shades of gray. She would trace the Gray Alliance crest with her fingers until Fierentila told her to practice her spells. But always she was fascinated with the workings of the Gods, and asked questions until Fierentila warned her that too much knowledge can lead to dangerous pride.

When Kaelyn was a bit older, her grandfather's stories became more instructional, to ward her off impulsive missions. Fierentila originally told her about the Wall of the Faithless to dissuade her from the growing pride she displayed against the Gods: he always worried that she would lose her way. But the story had the opposite effect; she questioned why it had to be that way in the first place.

Kelemvor had always been Kaelyn's God of the Dead, but The Wall had not always been there; there was no proof it was required to keep creatures in line. This was the strength of her argument, but Fierentila would not hear of it. "If you think Paladins are tiresome with their self-righteousness, you should try being raised by an angel," she'd said to Leona once. Leona figured that Casavir – even the old Casavir – had nothing on Kaelyn's grandfather.

Kaelyn had sadly parted ways from him after the last crusade, when she escaped with her life but failed in her mission. He was disappointed in her hubris, and called her to return home, but she refused. She knew, though, that he had access to the Wall. It was beyond her morality to use his connections to destroy the Wall – though Neeshka had suggested it, as had Gann a few years ago. But Kaelyn did feel that it might be in her grandfather's best interest to let mortals see the Wall. This had been discussed with Myrkal at one point before she was born, about whether keeping its visibility public might scare more people into submission. Kelemvor never went for the flashy idea, but Kaelyn knew her grandfather rather favored it.

"The problem with the full angels is that they lack ability to see the world any other way. There are no shades of gray for them." She smiled a little, thinking of the Gray Alliance she'd so revered as a young angel.

"And," followed Sand, "lack of gray means lack of compassion."

"Which means they look for magic bullets such as this," continued Kaelyn. "They think it's a neat order: see the Wall, fear the Gods."

"Is that really their goal? For more to fear Gods?" Grobnar asked this question, which as usual sounded childlike but was actually brilliant.

"Yes and no. They ally with the Gods, but their major purpose is to protect them against evil, or sometimes, each other. Their jobs, most of the time, don't require much moral judgment."

Casavir leaned into Leona's ear and mumbled, "Just like the Neverwinter Nine."

She turned to him, surprised. He was absolutely right in this. It is a rare soldier – and not a very good one – who asks the question "why?" It makes their job impossible.

"I don't really see how your grandfather can be of any help at all," said Safiya, rubbing her bald head. "If you haven't convinced him yet, you won't now."

"He will see your meeting the Wall as your chance for redemption. He will meet the challenge of your revival to the Cause."

Leona, still close to Casavir, whispered to him, "Are you looking for redemption?"

He smiled warmly at her, which also was new. "Only the kind you can offer."

Kaelyn contacted her grandfather then and there, and he agreed to offer the party a chance at redemption. It was like a wager for him; he had little to lose and could gain many souls. Not to mention see his estranged granddaughter again. But despite the productive news, Leona and Casavir were more than happy to retire for the night, alone.

When they got to their chambers, tired of talking, Casavir lied on the bed and looked out the window. "I feel I should be making some devotion, still."

Leona looked over at him while undressing for the night. "You know you still could."

He watched her lazily as she dressed. "I know. But right now it feels…like begging. To be reinstated. It doesn't sit right with me."

She came across the chamber to sit on the edge of the bed. "Maybe there is a way to politely say you forgive Him."

"But I don't." He shocked them both at how simply he named his emotion. Both stayed quiet for a little while.

During the silence, there was a confident knock at the door. Leona stood up, but Casavir as usual jumped in front of her and opened the door a crack, weapon behind him just in case. She knew it was Ophala by the way his face hardened when he peered out. Though Casavir was throwing his rage anywhere he could, around and about Ophala he was a closed book. One couldn't read a thing on his face about her. Love is like that, Leona thought. I do wonder if he's seen that same look on my face before. I did care for Bishop, in a way.

"Do I interrupt?" she asked, seeming ready to come in all the same. If the door had been open further, she surely would have just ventured in.

"Somewhat," Casavir said. Leona was not eye level with the door, so she waited right where she was.

"Good. I have a proposition for you both."

Casavir moved to shut the door. "The answer is no."

Her hand moved out just as quickly to stop him; if she'd wanted to, she'd have thrown spells around, but the gesture was just as effective. He paused.

"Casavir, you've known me a long time. I take no for an answer only after I've been heard."

Leona came in view of the doorframe. "You have five minutes. You can't come in."

"This is too sensitive to discuss in the hallway."

"Then we'll go to a meeting room," said Casavir. "Tomorrow."

"Yes," Ophala countered, "I can see how adorable you two look ready for bed. Fine, right here. Five minutes. I suppose my reason for coming is to see just how far you've Fallen, Casavir. I will lay it on the line."

Leona smirked. "I can't imagine you having it any other way."

Ophala ignored the barb. "Both of you have been in the Manor Prison. To some, this means you must be extraordinary lovers. Many believe you know secrets that civilians could only dream of." She paused, looking at them expectantly. They both had blank faces, not following her.

"Many believe that you would share those secrets."

Casavir, then, almost got red in the face. "Are you suggesting that we…that you…auction us off, or something? That we sleep with the highest bidder?" Leona was glad he spoke up, because she was speechless.

"There is that, of course. But I myself was thinking more along the lines of sharing secrets, maybe teaching my girls. I've no doubt you could earn gold by sleeping around, yes. But I don't see that as quite your style. You could, however, share some of what you learned. How you did so would be up for discussion."

Leona smelled a business proposition, and knew that Ophala had something big in it for them. Under no other circumstances would they entertain this, and Ophala knew it. She sighed. "Come in, Ophala."

Casavir stayed unmoving. "No. She does not enter our room. She will leave spells behind, to spy on us."

Ophala narrowed her eyes. Casavir continued, "Ophala. The place was truly a prison. There was magic in the air, to fill the mind with mud and the body with lust. One loses track of time, and all other desires. The girls were lovely, but they needn't have been experts."

Leona added, "You could have put two enemies in a room together, and by day's end they'd have been lovers."

Ophala's eyes widened. She clearly hadn't thought of the magical role, which was startling given her own powers. "This information you just shared with me is extremely useful, for example. I should go so far as to pay you for it."

"Please, Ophala," Leona said, "Accept it as our gift." She hoped the sarcasm was evident. But then, she had another thought.

"Is this about the Luskans? If word has traveled so far, are we in danger of some kind of retaliation? We thought we were discreet, but we were well-known after the Shadow Wars, so word did get out."

Ophala rolled her eyes. "The Luskans have nothing on you. Yes, you broke one man out of their prison. But they did not try you, Casavir, did they? You were not found guilty?"

Casavir closed his eyes for a very long time. When he spoke, he didn't open his eyes. "I do not remember much. I was quite injured from the battle and the earthquake that followed. But no, they did not try me."

"There you have it," said Ophala. "No offense, dear: you are a delicious man and a fine catch for either women, prison, or a prison of women. But they won't go to war over you. They have nothing to gain."

"But what of their prison secrets? The fact that we breeched the barriers – three times – I mean, surely someone will try to keep us from sharing that knowledge."

Ophala squared her shoulders. "Listen. Even I don't know how you got in there and who you had with you, but I can only guess it had something to do with the right combination of powers. It's obvious it will never happen again. I also know that the Prison is something of a myth, by now. Many who have attempted it over the years have died. The word on the wind is that you are Great Heroes – not that you are starting a trend. All people care about, Luskans included, is what kind of lovers you are. If you have some knowledge to share, it only adds to their myth. They're all smoke and mirrors anyway, the Luskans. They will adore the hype. Their courts have the convicted eagerly awaiting sentencing. Poor fools."

Casavir's eyes were still closed when he said, "'Knowledge to share?' Really,Ophala? That is why you are here?"

No one spoke for many seconds. Then finally Ophala said, "So you mean to tell me there are no techniques you acquired?"

Leona raised her eyebrows and looked at Casavir, as if consulting him about the weather. She was about to say, "No," but Ophala kept talking, and finally said something important.

"Some feel you are hoarding valuable information. Even might go so far as to threaten you for it. I am here as much for warning as for profit."

Casavir said, "You are here to warn us? What interest do you have in our safety?"

Ophala's face softened, showing how very pretty she was when she was genuine. "I did care for you, Casavir. I still do. I helped locate the Prison for Leona. And I like you together, and I find you worthy fellow adventurers."

"Not to mention," said Leona, "that you stand to gain quite a lot if we align with you. Instead of, say, having information tortured out of us, or our offering it willingly to someone else. You'd have a corner on the market. Will you parade us like circus freaks, the sex-slaved couple?"

Again, Ophala looked genuine – that is, genuinely hurt. "I tell you the truth now: I am a businesswoman. Sex and drink are my business, and you two are, right now, the pinnacle of sex in the entire Sword Coast. Of course I would like nothing more than to align with you in this. I would like nothing more than my girls to be trained by you, to sponsor Deekin to write books on you. I would like nothing more than to jump into bed with you myself. But in spite of myself, I applaud your discretion. And I would still feel better than I did before, if I walked away empty-handed and I still protected you from harm. Take that or leave it, as you will."

Somehow Leona had the savvy not to say flat-out "no" to Ophala. They wanted to distance her, but they also wanted her to think they could be of use. She was powerful both in her community and the underbelly, which was a rare blend. And Leona, as leader of the Keep, could afford to make no enemies of Ophala's stature. They had to be allies, whatever the cost. She shook her head ever so slightly; luckily Casavir caught it, and stayed quiet.

"I believe you," Leona said. "We will watch our backs more than usual. And if we have something to share, we will consider you." Ophala thanked them, and wished them goodnight, again seeming genuine instead of her usual coy-as-sarcastic tone. Casavir nodded in agreement, just barely a head tilt. His issues with her were still undefined. Leona wondered at how she learned more about their relationship in an afternoon's chat with Ophala, than she had in years with Casavir as her mate. Someday, probably, she would learn about his side of things. This was the hard truth about adventuring: even in a large academy like this, one couldn't get away very long from the others. They were always popping in, giving advice, holding grudges or starting gossip. In a group this size, it was bound to happen. They were used to it, but she was sure Casavir agreed by now that they needed time alone.

One downside to the adventuring hiatus was that some of the party took to walking around the compound unarmed. This was especially unfortunate because there were two attacks at the Academy. The first was a mutiny within the Academy's leaders – this was not uncommon among Red Wizards, and generally accepted as standard. Safiya herself had dismantled two secret rebellions while head of the Academy. She had taken the role by inheritance, since her mother died while in power, but still had to fight off others who wanted the role. Leona's party was caught in the crossfire of this cyclical revolution, and a few of them were wounded, but not much more than cuts and bruises – and a few marks on their pride, for not being prepared.

The second battle at the Academy came as a surprise to all, including Safiya herself. One afternoon, three horned devils somehow made it through the portal – the one they eventually would use to reach the Supplicant Gates. The portal was always closed with several magical wards; had it opened completely, all Hell would literally break loose on the Academy. No one could figure out how three devils only had appeared, but there was little time to think about it; they were destroying everything in sight. Several of Kaelyn's assistants were struck down because they were caught unprepared; several Academy students were mowed down in the devils' wake.

At the time of the attack, Leona and her closest friends had just finished lunch; a few of them were a bit tipsy, and all of them were full and feeling lazy. When they heard the commotion, they rushed to the spot, where the devils were already wreaking havoc. There was blood all over the large classroom where they had migrated. Kaelyn had been a little shaky since talking to her grandfather, and was not in top fighting shape. Though she was no stranger to bloodshed, she started to wretch when the party burst into the room. These were her compatriots; dying in battle was one thing, but this was senseless. She faltered, and the devil jumped on her, sensing her angelic aura. "Sweet and tasty," he said through his sharp teeth. As he leaned in for a bite, a short sword flew out of the left side of the room and landed square in his neck.

Around the compound Leona carried her bow, even though she was indoors. It was her little tie to the outside world, and she popped outside often enough that it made sense. Plus, it was lighter than her greatsword and, when it came down to it, her weapon of choice. When the short sword flew across the room, Leona was well-trained enough that her eyes didn't even flicker across the room, to see who threw it. Instead she kept focus on the devil, notched an arrow, and hit his neck from the other side.

Honus then entered behind her, and bounded across to jump on the devil's back. He lurched side to side to push him off, which allowed Kaelyn to jump back up with her sickle to hack at his already injured neck. Now that the devil was assaulted from four sides, it was easy to take him down. As soon as he fell, Leona's eyes shot to the other two close by. Casavir and Khelgar, as usual well-choreographed, were slowly but handily taking down one of the devils. Grizelda, the only close-range fighter left with Okku not around, was having a harder time with the last devil. She was surrounded by spellcasters but they had to stay farther back, so she was jumping around trying to distract the beast while the others concentrated on their spells. She was injured, but putting up a good fight.

Leona shot a fiery arrow, again into the neck of this devil, and saw another knife fly from across the room. Honus and Kaelyn rushed in, and then the fight was close to over. Only then did Leona spare a glance across the hall. Neeshka was there, and she looked mad.

As the last devil knew he was overcome, he cried, "Death to false angels! Death to false piety!" Then Khelgar cut off his head just as Gann said, "What is this, a protest rally?" (Gann was a bit tipsy from lunch, and hadn't been much help in the battle.)

Neeshka marched over, quietly, and kicked the head Khelgar had just sliced off. She kicked it across the room so hard that it bounced off the wall. "I hate devils," she said. "They give Tieflings a bad name. I am NOT a devil. I'd play ball with this head if I could. Hate these guys. I want to hack this to pieces, and then I will clean it up myself. It will be worth the satisfaction of ripping out their dead bones." Strangely, Kaelyn didn't wretch at that.

"It's me," she said instead.
Everyone turned towards her, looking confused.

"It's me," she repeated. "They were here for me."

"How do you know?" Casavir said. "It could be me."

"No offense, Paladin, but you're not an angel. My so-called 'false piety' is wellknown across these lands."

He frowned. "Don't call me Paladin," he said.

Everyone started talking at once. Most of the party was expressing disbelief at what Casavir just said; Khelgar and a couple of others were trying to get Grizelda to a healer for her many wounds. Leona kept quiet, and stepped closer to Casavir. Everyone thought that he didn't want to hear the word, because it meant failure now. That it reminded him of what he lacked. She knew the contrary was true: he no longer wanted to be associated with holy warriors.

But the time for emotional work was later. Now they had to figure out how – and why – those devils got into the Academy.

"Why now?" was all she asked, when Kaelyn looked at her.

She sighed, rubbing her neck in the spot where the devil almost bit her. "Their very breath is toxic," she said to no one in particular. Then, to Leona: "Must be my grandfather."

"What kind of angel," said Gann, "partners with devils?"

"Not him," Kaelyn said. She explained that the world of angels and devils was full of traitors and spies. Someone might have leaked to the 'other side' that she was making a trip to the solars. It wasn't uncommon. The sides stayed on top of the earth-dwellers through gossip and alliances, more than one might expect.

"Really," said Gann. "I think more and more of the Gods and their minions. How much of our respect they deserve, eh?"

Leona thought that might be the first time she'd ever heard angels referred to as 'minions.' No one but Gann could have thought that one up, she thought.

Sand was frowning. "Do devils – especially the powerful horned ones – usually attack with battle cries? This is odd. I wonder if these were rogues."

Ophala thought out loud like the Machiavellian she was. "Devils stand to lose a lot if the Wall falls. They probably want to preserve the standing order. Is it true they have rights to torture and plague at will, on the Wall?"

"Are you KIDDING me?" Qara had fireballs at her hands again, like she always did when she was angry – which was often. "How does this STAND?"

"It is true," said Kaelyn.

"Wait, what about the Nine Hells?" asked Leona. "Why do they bother with the Wall?"

"Come on, Leona, look at these things. You think they'd be content with less than they could have?" Neeshka had a scowl on her face. Her distaste of Devils seemed new; probably since the Shadow Wars when the leader had controlled her because of her demon blood. She couldn't blame Neeshka, but did blame herself for not noticing sooner. Though it wasn't as if they'd been adventuring together lately; after rescuing Casavir, this was the first time since the wars. And they didn't come across any devils on the rescue mission, thank the Gods.

"If that were true," said Sand, "they'd try to take over all the world."

"No," Kaelyn said. "They know their place. They're kept in line by the Gods. As are the angels, for that matter."

"And who," sounded Casavir's deep voice, "keeps the Gods in line?"

Leona sagged against the wall, spent. Casavir's point was an excellent one; its answer was tied in to their Crusade. But that it came from him, oh, how sad it made her. The others felt the same, and couldn't answer the question anyway, so they all stayed silent, and eventually wandered away. The question of the devils never got answered. But they all had the feeling this wouldn't be the last encounter with angry devils, who wanted the Wall to remain so they would have more souls to persecute. When they left, one by one, they had more questions than answers.

"So it seems, we are legendary lovers." Casavir and Leona were back in their chambers, after the long ordeal of the day. They'd all agreed they needed to strategize but the Wall certainly wasn't going anywhere. Tomorrow they would figure out their next moves. Tonight they would try – probably unsuccessfully – to leave the horror behind.

Leona smiled at him. "So it seems." Ever since Ophala's strange proposition and tip, they'd both realized that they had something special. They knew that escaping from the Manor Prison – twice – amounted to some heroism. But at the time, they'd had no other choices to make. Like all the events that happened so quickly to adventurers, they'd barely had time to make sense of it before another task was upon them. They didn't want to deal with the fact that sex was now a great healer, a soothing balm to them. For Casavir, especially now with rage he couldn't put into devotions, he let it out in the form of lust. It had become expression to them, a way to connect that sometimes seemed impossible with words. "Maybe," Leona continued, "if all the world gets locked in a Manor Prison, there would be no more wars."

"And yet we are still fighters, no?"

Leona sighed. She didn't want to talk about sex anymore, with anyone. She and Casavir, having been at the Manor Prison together, had an understanding between them. When they were together they could almost feel remnants of the Prison magic between them. It was undeniable – but also unexplainable. She didn't want to share it with the world, and didn't know if she even could.

But even so, they had warned the others who'd been with them on that mission. On the way to meet Fierentila, the small group had discussed the possibility that given their unique carnal knowledge, they might be in danger. Gann had shrugged, put his arm around Neeshka, and said, "so be it." Nobody seemed to care much except Safiya. "Let's hope it doesn't get out too far in this world. I find this plane a good deal more ruthless than yours."

"Besides," said Neeshka, "Ophala would be SO disappointed at losing her monopoly."

Everyone giggled except Casavir. He clearly didn't want to be part of anything of hers, ever again.

Gann said, "I know you two lovebirds are discreet as can be, but Neeshka and I would be willing to hold seminars. Don't worry about yourselves; we'll cover you."

Neeshka giggled again. "They don't need any covering from us, Gann. I think they can cover each other just fine." And the mood was light for the moment. But they all agreed to watch their backs, all the same.

The night before visiting the Wall, the party was required to spend time together in a closed environment, for dinner and relaxation. Leona wanted to make sure they responded as a united team tomorrow, and the best way to do that was to have jovial, familial times tonight. She wasn't the official leader, but to face facts, Gann wasn't a very good leader person-to-person; he just wanted the Wall torn down. He was an excellent strategist, though, and knew that's where his efforts would do most good. He had set up conflict in the group so they would cling to life; now they had to cling to each other, just a little, in the face of a united enemy.

Kaelyn was a capable battalion chief, but leading adventurers was quite different. Personality conflicts ran rampant in a group like this. One had to delegate very specifically to each, and with great clarity. One had to be sure there was no overlap, and no bruised egos. As Leona had great experience in leading adventurers, Gann and Kaelyn were happy to leave it to her when she had ideas such as this.

Leona made the rounds to each individual in the party, reminding them what to be on the lookout for tomorrow. The small bards were especially observant, since they usually hung back from the fray, and their perceptions would be invaluable during the exchange and tour. Kaelyn also reminded them of angel etiquette, which was pretty much how one would act around nobility with a few marked exceptions.

When Leona finally finished her duties, she sought out Casavir. He was sitting at a small table with Neeshka, both with mugs in hand. It was loud, so from this distance Leona could see more than hear: she looked like she was making some sarcastic observation, and he was as close to laughing as she'd ever seen. He was a serious man; but what a strange irony that Neeshka would bring out his lighter side. Even with Leona he was intense and contemplative most of the time.

She pulled up a chair and said, "For someone who can't be around Paladins, you're sure making up for lost time."

"I know!" Neeshka elbowed Casavir in the ribs; he didn't even flinch. "You used to positively nauseate me. I mean, literally. There was that one time I threw up because you caught my fall and touched me. This is a real treat." She swished her tail back and forth like a content cat. "Fun guy, Leona. Good choice." Elbow to ribs again. "Glad I got to know 'ya."

"Leona accepted the mug Khelgar offered from the table's other side. "No offense, lover, but that might be the first time I've heard you called a 'fun guy.'"

He smiled and she actually saw his teeth, the smile was so big. "Are Paladins never fun, then?"

"Eh," said Neeshka. "I mean, you don't have to have demon in you like I do to be fun at parties. But you have to be able to, you know, let go of the shit. You know."

"Not really."

Neeshka's tail swished again. "Then it'll be my job to teach 'ya."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Leona, at the same time that Casavir said, "I don't think –"

Gann, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, and Casavir, as usual, tensed up a little. "Who's teaching whom what?"

Leona rolled her eyes. "A seminar in letting loose, too?"

Gann raised his mug. "I like it."

"Let's just start," said Casavir, "with the surprising idea that we're happy to be friends."

"I know I am," said Neeshka. "You can protect me. Gann can't swing a sword for shit."

Again, laughter. And again, holding off trepidation, about tomorrow. Leona stared out the window and wondered just how many times they'd reveled one day before facing death the next.

Kaelyn's grandfather Fierentila was very large in stature, taller and wider than a man. He stood with perfect posture in front of the Supplicant Gates, wings slightly outspread. His body was decorated with earth-toned Native colors, in chevrons and stripes. He had clearly turned down his glow, until it was just bright enough to make one squint a little. He did not want them to forget who he was, in relation to them. Leona felt she couldn't blame him. He was imposing, but also inspiring. He managed to call up both fear and admiration at once, which only an angel could do. Paladins came close, though, and since Leona had spent a lot of time around one, she wasn't as intimidated as some of the others.

Fierentila carried a unique weapon that looked like a mace with fireworks or sparks on the end of it: a heavenly take on a trident, or pitchfork. He was flanked by two smaller angels who carried similar (but smaller) weapons, and had pristine, unemotional faces. He himself looked as if he aimed for pristine and unemotional, but just missed the mark. Even Leona could see that, and was troubled by it: if a Solar could not hide his feelings, how strong must they be? What chance did they stand, against the same emotions?

Grobnar, who was a very perceptive and magical bard, came around towards Leona. He stretched on his tiptoes, since he was a gnome, and her ear was far away to whisper into. "I see on your face you read his plain discontent. This one cannot hide his emotional flood at seeing his granddaughter after many years. He loves her, fears for her, resents her, and also, respects her. And he is also somewhat disgusted by this ragtag group she travels with. Hey, that must be us!"

Leona put her arm around him as best as she could reach. "Thank you, Grobnar. That is so helpful. We need all the information we can get. Please let me know if you notice anything else."

"Well, yes, and of course the angel on the right is newly limping."

Leona narrowed her eyes. "Grobnar, they are very far away, and we haven't even seen them move yet. In fact, they are standing still and we are moving towards them."

"Nonetheless, I tell you that one has an injured leg. She distributes her weight incorrectly for her size, and is uncomfortable with the change."

Leona's mind swam with a flurry of thoughts at once. First, why was one of the top angel guards injured? The only beings who could come close to damaging them were demons, devils, or Gods – or some very lucky mortals. This was important to know.

Also, Leona wondered if Fierentila heard their exchange. He had to have superpowered hearing. Grobnar's observations would be much less valuable if they were no longer secret. "Pull Kaelyn back right away. Tell her what you just told me, so she doesn't approach unaware."

As Grobnar hopped off Leona filled the open space between herself and Sand. They were walking ahead in an even line towards the gates, traveling past the many protestors and supporters of the Wall. They ignored the fray, and thought it best if they alternated spellcasters and fighters, just in case of a battle with the angels. If that happened, they were likely dead on the spot. But it couldn't hurt to strategize.

"Limping, eh?" Sand raised an eyebrow at Leona, who looked astonished that he had also overheard. "Did you learn nothing at the Manor Prison?" Sand gestured to his own chest. "Elf. Super hearing."

"Well, can you hear them talking now? And can you guess why a guard is limping?"

"I could, but they're not talking now. And my guess is, they're hiding a war. Kaelyn will either know or find out, I have no doubt."

The party of seventeen (eighteen counting Honus) made an impressive front, against anyone but immortals. Gann had instructed them to stand tall, no matter how meek they felt in the presence of angels. If Fierentila's look wasn't imposing enough, his voice would tip the scales. It was deep and melodic, exactly what you'd expect a strong God to sound like. He did not greet Kaelyn first, but Okku.

"Greetings, Bear King."

"Greetings, Solar King." Okku's baritone was almost as low as the angel's.

Then Fierentila turned to his flesh and blood. "Granddaughter. You have brought many with you today. These are the ones you call friends?"

"Grandfather, hello. It is…good to see you. Yes, each and every one of these is a friend. We have battled evil side-by-side and each has proven worthy of their station."

Fierentila scanned the group slowly. "And yet, not. At least one has proven quite the opposite, has he not?"

Kaelyn, and a few others in the party, tilted down their heads in shame. Exactly what Gann told you not to do, thought Leona. But Casavir, whom Fierentila was clearly speaking of, was not one of them. He had spent much time in devotion to or listening to Gods, and had never acquired fear of them. On the contrary, he was at home around the self-righteous. He stepped forward and said, "You speak of me, Sire. My name is Casavir. Your granddaughter is a superb ally and warrior. My congratulations."

An extra few sparks went through Fierentila's weapon. "A few days ago, Fallen, that compliment might have meant a great deal. Now, it carries no weight."

"And yet it is as true now as it was three days ago." Casavir was behaving boldly, and again a few of the party looked unsettled, but he seemed quite calm, and Leona trusted him to know his limits here.

Fierentila could have done a lot of things then; he could have cut Casavir down, or cut any one of them down, for insolence. He could have banished them, denounced them, turned away, attacked, or spouted a witty reply. What he did instead was look over the group again, moving on towards Neeshka and Gann, who weren't even close to each other.

"You have also two demon spawn among you." He pointed at Deekin. "And a kobold!" He pointed at Zhjaeve. "And a Githzerai! And four among you are faithless. You are all here to repent?"

"Read us again, grandfather, and see that we every one of us is good, to the core. For what evil deeds must we repent?"

Fierentila glowed a few notches brighter when he said, "You collude with a TIEFLING? And dare ask ME about evil deeds?"

Kaelyn had instructed them that no matter what they must not turn their backs on her grandfather in anger. It was a great sign of disrespect to angels, and an invitation to attack. It was clear now that Neeshka was using every ounce of strength to stay in place and not turn away. How short-sighted are the brightest among us, thought Leona. She stepped forward.

"Sire, please. This Tiefling is Neeshka. She saved your granddaughter's life from three horned devils just a day ago. I do not overstate – she is responsible for Kaelyn's standing here today. She has adventured with me for many years, and is supremely reliable." In her head she added, for a Tiefling. She hoped the Solars could not read minds.

Fierentila gave a slight frown. "Has war been declared against you?"

"No," Kaelyn said. "But I believe it has been declared against you. Will you keep this information from us?"

Fierentila seemed unfazed, which meant Sand's idea was exactly, one hundred percent, right. Had it been a new idea, he would have been startled, or denying it in words. Even Solars give off a little body language sometimes. He said flatly, "Come, let us go to the Wall."

"Answer my question, Grandfather."

"The time will never come when you are permitted to throw orders at me. And I see the time has long passed when my orders to you are heeded. So for now we accept each other's insolence, and we go to the Wall." He turned away from them and opened the gates. Qara leaned over to Kaelyn and said, "Didn't you say angels never –"

"Yes."

"Did he just declare war on us or something?"

"In a way, Qara. But just a mental one. Don't worry, I'm up to the challenge." Kaelyn fluffed out her blackened wings and walked ahead.

"Hell yeah," said Qara, and quickened her step to be on the front lines, just in case.

The gates were gigantic and wide, but at this point the party ranked together in lines of three, to pass through the protestors and through the doors. They made an even five lines. Leona was in the middle of the first line, with Kaelyn and Gann. Kaelyn had thought through the layout for hours, and finally decided she wanted the leader of this Crusade (Gann) with the leader of the last Crusade (Leona) and the leader of the first two crusades (herself). Gann was Faithless, but Leona had garnered great respect for overcoming her curse, so they balanced each other out. She had put Neeshka and Casavir both towards the back, so as not to catch the angels' eyes any more than needed. Casavir hated that he didn't get to walk in front of Leona, but she thought it was quite funny indeed. They were in no danger here – other than the emotional impact of seeing the Wall. Her stomach churned and she tried not to think about it. She wasn't sure if she could even bear seeing it again – it was that horrific. Would she break down into tears? Vomit on her knees? Lose her sanity? She felt a great dread, not unlike the Manor Prison's wards. Everyone's pace had slowed; they were all feeling the same. She heard Ophala say, "Wards. Interesting." Fierentila turned around briefly to note, "come closer to me and the fear will touch you less." They did, and it did. Fierentila continued as if giving a daily tour. "Don't want mortals getting too close to what they shouldn't see. Surely the imagined truth of the Wall is worse than the truth itself." Leona definitely did not find this to be the case; her imagination could never conjure up something so gruesome as this truth. But Fierentila seemed almost cheerful at his mission now, and it wasn't a good time to disagree with him. Casavir may have had experience with the self-righteous and their powers, but Leona had experience with grouchy paternal types. Timing was everything.

One second they were walking in what seemed to be an eternal desert, and the next, the Wall was in front of them. Leona had remembered it in earthy, sepia tones, but today it looked metal-gray and shiny, like the souls were covered in steel. The Wall went on farther than the horizon, and it writhed like a living thing. Individual souls pulsed in and out of it like dough being kneaded. The sight was bad enough, but the sounds were the worst of the assault. Everywhere there was screaming, moaning, pleading, sobbing. Leona thought that farther down she could see devils poking the souls, burning them, raping them at random. Her head was devoid of words to describe it, as she took it in again.

She wouldn't have to describe it, though, because almost all of her loved ones were right there next to her. Ophala was weeping, Elannee had dropped to her knees, and Grobnar was holding his hands over his ears. Some of the party dared to touch the souls, which sprung back like rubber bands, afraid of any touch. Some of the party backed away, but there was simply nowhere to run. And now this image was in their memories, and they could never leave it behind. Leona felt a wash of guilt, then, at what she'd done to her friends.

Leona tried to clear her head and glance over to Casavir. He was staring at Fierentila in astonishment. Through it all, Fierentila stood there like a proud parent showing off his accomplished child. He didn't create this Wall, but helped enforce it daily; he genuinely believed it was a natural order, justice served. He believed they would all leave here as Gods-fearing mortals, and his work would be done. For as gray as the Wall stretched to infinity, he could see no shades of gray in this landscape.

"What is it?" Leona shouted to Casavir him over the sea of moaning, pleading voices. When she touched him, the Wall wounded her a little less.

"He is what I would have been. He is what I was."

Leona wasn't sure what she'd expected from Casavir upon seeing the Wall. She'd hoped somehow he'd never have to confront it, and tried never to think about it. Now that they were here, she saw something new: he wasn't responding to the Wall at all. He was responding instead to Fierentila. The solar was unmoving in his judgment. He was so blinded by his idea of justice that he no longer noticed souls were suffering – souls he may have vowed once to protect. All of these mortals deserved exactly what they got. But mortals knew what immortals forgot: that choices were never made in vacuums. There was a deep, deep unfairness here, right in front of the angels' glowing noses. Casavir saw through their self-deception, which in itself was woeful.

"There was a time," said Casavir, "that I would have applauded this. I know it. But this isn't even Hell. This doesn't make any sense. This is Hell prime. The devils and the angels are claiming more than their share."

Leona remembered the feeling of hacking her soul out of the Wall with her sword, fighting off devils as she did so. It was terrifying. Now her burden was shared with her very best friends, but at a very great cost. So filled and disgusted were her senses, that she couldn't think of much. But she knew one thing: that not one of them would leave the Wall more pious than when they arrived. Fierentila's plan had backfired, just as she and Kaelyn knew it would. When they got home – if they all stayed sane – there would never be a more inspired group to lay siege to this Wall, and knock it down for good.

It hurt, it burned, it wounded: It was just what they needed.

They walked back to the gates behind the solars, when Kaelyn stepped ahead. "Fia," she called out. Fia, the slightly limping one (Grobnar was right), did not turn. Kaelyn caught up to her, and said softly, "are you all right?"

"I am fine, Kaelyn," Fia said. She kept her gaze straight ahead and her expression neutral.

"Are you in danger?"

"No."

Kaelyn jumped in front a few paces ahead, so that they would have to either stop or walk over her. They stopped. Interesting, Leona thought. They are either not natural warriors, were not briefed, or have a weakness for Kaelyn. Either way, it's good to know.

Kaelyn put her arms out as if pleading, looking back and forth between the guard and her grandfather. She ignored the third angel, who she either didn't know or didn't care about. "Something important is happening. We will be in danger if you don't tell us what. Fia, I was almost killed by those devils. Six of my men were ripped apart and their bodies were scattered across the room. Their souls may be on this Wall right now. Fia, I know you know…I know you understand. Please Fia. Grandfather. We can save lives if we work together. We can prevent more from landing here. Please."

A moment of softness flew across Fia's face. She did not wait for Fierentila to speak further. She said only, "This is all because of your Crusades. The devils think you are responsible. Everyone associated with you –"

Fierentila's weapon shot out so fast it looked like lightning had struck, and when the flash cleared, Fia was gone. Fierentila gave a reproachful look towards his granddaughter, and his voice took on a melancholy but reproachful tone.

"Kaelyn. Because of you she will suffer. You would do well to consider others on this foolhardy mission of yours."

Angry tears filled Kaelyn's eyes, and she made fists with her hands. She walked around her grandfather – careful not to turn too much of her back – and stood in front of her friends. "Who among you, having seen this Wall, support its existence?" Silence greeted her. Some of the party looked angry, some despondent, some ashamed. But no one stepped forward. There was a simmering rage around them, a resentment against the Gods for threatening such suffering to mortals.

"And who among you will stand against this Wall and all it represents?"

A battle cry rang out among the party of eighteen, complete with roars from the bears, and magic from the sorcerers. Qara shot fireballs into the air. Swords were raised. The sound was a wall in itself, all frustration echoing among them. A team, united against something they now could never forget. Even Fierentila's other guard looked surprised, and maybe a little afraid.

Fierentila realized his mistake. He had helped cause this, and now saw he had been outsmarted by his own granddaughter, whom he had just a few seconds ago dismissed as "foolhardy." His face, as usual, barely registered it, but it was there just under the surface. Kaelyn walked up to him, until she was almost face to face. She said, "We have free will, grandfather: even Fia does. Because of me, she has hope. You've been without need for too long, I think. You have forgotten the power of hope." And with that, she turned her back on her grandfather, and led her party through the gates and back to the Academy. He did not attack at the insult, but no one turned around to see what he did instead.

"Meetings, meetings, meetings. I want to kill something." Qara sat with her arms crossed, managing to look bored and mad at the same time.

Gann scoffed and said, "I didn't see you killing much of anything when the three devils arrived."

"That's because those inept spirits you called up kept getting in my way, Shaman."

Gann rolled his eyes. They would have kept it up, but Kaelyn walked in, and she had a surprise. Barely upright next to her, brutally injured and beaten, was Fia, the solar guard. Her wings were ragged; one of her arms was hanging at an unnatural angle.

Zhjaeve rushed over to aid her fellow cleric in healing, but Kaelyn put her hand up. "She wanted you all to see what had been done to her."

Fia's frail voice said into the shocked silence, "Angels do not take kindly to those who give away secrets. I am here to tell you it was worth it."

"Hardly looks like it," said Grobnar.

"I never had the courage to join Kaelyn. But when I saw her at the Wall, so sure and proud…I couldn't live with myself anymore."

Kaelyn kissed the top of her head softly. Fia winced as if even that had light touch had hurt her. "Come Zhjaeve. Let us welcome this worthy soul."

Once they left there was still silence at the table. Safiya put her head in her hands on the sturdy planning table. "Even the angels are corrupt. There is no hope for this world."

Casavir replied evenly. "'Even the angels' have to keep their ranks in line, Safiya. They are at war."

She turned her head in his direction without lifting it, and smiled grimly. "I could almost see your holy glow again for a minute, Casavir, with those righteous words. But you know what? You know why there are so many takeovers at this Academy? Because they don't know how to disagree. Under my rule there was no blood shed here. If the angels had just let Fia go, we'd be less thirsty for revenge, and they'd be less threatened. They only hurt themselves in this."

"If the angels had just let Fia go," countered Casavir, "then anyone could go. Anyone would go. And then support for the Wall falters, the Wall comes down, and they lose."

"Dude," said Qara. "Who the fuck's side are you on here?"

Safiya said, "Governing by fear is the wrong way. It riles up your enemy."

Clearly, this particular party was riled up by the news. Leona felt ashamed at her delight in acquiring Fia. For one thing, they wouldn't have to speculate anymore about what was going on between angels and devils: they would know it. For another, that Fia dared to come here gave credibility to Kaelyn's Crusade. When word got out that Fia had joined them – and Leona would make sure it did – others might follow. And Fierentila would be forced to recognize them as legitimate, now that one of his most trusted had switched sides.

Lastly, Leona guessed that Kaelyn and Fia had been lovers, and had lasting affection between them. There was an intimacy and urgency about them she knew all too well. She put it to the back of her mind, but if Fia joined the team, it would be important that they come to terms, whether together or apart.

She had thought it through quickly, and was ready to act. It was second nature, after leading missions during the time of the Shadow Wars. "Ophala," she said. "Spread the word with your contacts that Fia is here. Safiya, spread the news through the Academy."

"Shit," muttered Qara. "She springs into action fast, doesn't she?"

"We don't have a minute to lose. Qara, go write it in the sky in fire. Make it known."

"Yeah!" Qara ran off, pulling her new mentor Ophala by the arm. Ophala doesn't seem to mind at all, Leona noticed. Good for them.

"Gann, visit some dreams. Plant some seeds. I never thought I'd say this, but don't be discreet."

"Music to my ears, lover," Gann said. Casavir narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet, watching him until he left.

"Deekin and Grobnar, prepare your buffing spells. We are going to battle a few devils tomorrow." They shuffled off swapping anecdotes about the best mixtures, completely content.

"Remaining spellcasters. I want your best strength and speed spells. We're going to make our angels very powerful." They left, and Leona noticed the corner of a smile from her foster father Daeghun. He nodded curtly at her, and she felt as warm as she ever did, even though they were preparing for war.

All that was left was hand-to-hand fighters. "The rest of us are going to train today in how to get knocked down safely."

Khelgar frowned. "I don't much like the sound of 'at, ranger. Who gets knocked down on purpose?"

"What in the world are you planning, friend?" Grizelda was as confused as her admirer.

"Tomorrow, we're going to let some devils in. And we're going to let them knock us around, and then our angel friends are going to come in and finish them off. And then we're going to let the world know how passionate and fierce they really are."

Casavir stood up, walked around the table, and kissed her fiercely. Then he walked out without a word. "I think 'e thinks it's a good idea," said Khelgar. Then they left to prepare for a very dangerous and very fake battle.

The next day at noon, the same portal that the horned devils got through was mysteriously found open again. Eight creatures got through this time: two horned devils and six imps. The Academy was very lucky that the portal was sealed before more monsters came through: imps were hard enough because they were sometimes invisible, but spellcasters could usually see them so they knew how many were there.

The classroom was cleared and luckily no students were hurt. But the entire visiting party of adventurers tried, and failed, to take down the devils. Everywhere they turned they were knocked to the ground by the horned devils. The students watched through the classroom windows as even the strongest fighters couldn't manage to hurt these creatures.

Then, like lightning incarnate, the Half-celestial Kaelyn and the solar guard Fia rushed in. They moved almost at the speed of light, and seemed completely immune to the devils' blows. Hacking with three times their usual speed, they easily took down the devils and three of the imps. The other three were chased back through the portal, which mysteriously opened again just at that moment. They had saved their friends and shamed the devil world, without so much as a scrape on them. Devil blood still on them, they raised their weapons and cried, "For the Solars! For the Angels!" All the party whose lives had been saved, and the students who observed such a heroic battle, roared in reply with them. It was nothing less than a slaughter, and they were nothing less than revered.

Word spread more quickly than usual that Fia was aligned with Kaelyn, as fierce as ever, and as just as ever. People started asking new questions: how could they be "for the angels" if they had turned against them, or been cast out? Everyone knew Kaelyn's life mission: were the angels now for or against the Wall? Did they sanction her and not her Crusade? Why was Fia there to protect her if the angels had not asked for it? No one knew what to think. The ball was in the angels' court.

Word also spread through the Hells once the imps were chased back. They were shamed, and everyone knew of their easy defeat. The devils too, and their Gods, did not know where the angels stood. The Wall's existence was one of few things on which angels and devils agreed. Had they changed their stance? Were they hiding something? The seed had been planted, and devils weren't ones to hold on to a seed patiently. The party had set up a war between Heaven and Hell, in the space of a few hours.

Safiya had much extra work to do, with clean up in the classrooms and calming down the staff. This was the second portal failure in a week: should they post guards? She assured them that she would have the magic users look it over, and sure enough, she said, they found that it had been tampered with. It was quickly fixed and warded, and Safiya called for a celebration for the heroes. They were sick of war rooms and somber meetings; might as well talk in a comfortable environment, and change the mood to victorious.

This occasion was different than the closed one from a few nights ago – it was in the main hall, with the whole Academy invited. It was crowded, loud, and mostly filled with drunken students happy for the free ale. The adventurers were very tired of course, but Leona reminded them not to just socialize with each other: she wanted their faces, names, and accomplishments known. Students would drink, gossip, and spread their stories. For Kaelyn especially, this was important. It was as much a press conference as a celebration.

But Kaelyn and Fia were late in coming. Fia was still quite injured even after so much healing. Today's battle was relatively easy with all the spells they had on them, but it still exhausted her, and she had to pretend she was in perfect health for the ruse to work. She played her part, then nearly collapsed in her new chamber and slept the day away. Leona paid her and Kaelyn a visit before they came down to the hall.

"I owe you my thanks, Fia. It will help us a great deal. I hope I didn't ask too much."

Fia winced as Kaelyn straightened her civilian robes, which clearly were not as comfortable to her as her armor. "I was sympathetic to Kaeyln's cause for some time, but not sure how to take action. Then when the Hells started getting aggressive, it was simply a matter of when."

"They were targeting Kaelyn's allies?"

"Anyone who had known her, talked to her, knew her face. At first the angels allowed it; they wanted information too, about the Crusades. But as usual, they allowed it to go too far. Before they knew it, they had an inquisition on their hands."

Fia sat on the bed again, exhausted at the thought. Leona felt a little ashamed but knew she had to ask. "How did you injure your leg?"

"One of them spoke out of line with Fierentila. I had to challenge him. I did win. This is the nature of the job, Leona. It is nothing new, and we solars heal quickly."

"With all respect, Fia, you're not healing at great speed right now." Leona wondered if it meant something similar to Casavir's Falling from Grace.

"That's because these blows were struck by another solar. Those are very hard to heal."

Kaelyn read Leona's look and explained, "We don't Fall from Grace in the same way. I wouldn't be surprised if Fia's wings blacken as mine did, but her powers are born, not Gods-given. She would have them even if she turned evil today."

"Have angels ever turned evil?"

Fia said, "That's the very creature I bested in the last battle. Many Gods in Hell are Fallen Angels. They are called Fallen because of their disregard for suffering. But that is not who Kaelyn and I are, and now everyone knows it thanks to your staged heroism."

"You both played your part perfectly. Not that it is a stretch to call you fierce-fighting heroes."

They smiled, and exchanged a satisfied glance. "Shall we join the party and play roles again?" Kaelyn asked.

Leona headed for the door but said, "There's one more thing I need to know."

They both cocked their heads in almost the same way. A solar trait, or from spending time together? Leona would soon have her answer.

"I am the unofficial commander of this group. I try not to pry into private lives, but…sometimes I need to know basics. I have to ask if you have been lovers, or are lovers. It may affect where I place you in battle, and how we manage the war of ideas."

They exchanged uncomfortable, and then resigned glances. Kaelyn spoke.

"We were lovers for a time before I left for the crusades. It was, of course, decades ago. Maybe centuries ago. Now's not the time, Fia, but I never stopped…now's not the time. I had to go and she had to stay."

"I didn't have to. I should have come with you."

Kaelyn shook her head. "No, it wasn't time. You were better off there. You might have died with me, even. We're together now."

"Ok, you're together now," said Leona. "That's all I needed to know." And she headed for the door again. But Fia took her arm. Leona wasn't surprised that her grip was so strong, but to feel it on her wrist was a shock all the same. It was like a handcuff. She must not forget that Fia was a true immortal, like Okku.

"You allow this, as leader?"

Kaelyn burst out laughing, a rare sight for the serious cleric. "Not only does she allow it, most of the party seems paired up. It's very strange, actually." Fia was clearly shocked. Leona wasn't surprised that solars didn't condone relationships among their ranks. If she'd run an army, she wouldn't have allowed it either. Having couples on the team was a challenge – they had to train carefully to avoid checking on their lovers in battle – and there were already four pairings in this group. But Fia was a warrior of the highest order; she could handle herself, and even teach them all a thing or two. And when an adventure becomes personal, threatening loved ones along the way, everyone puts in a little more energy to make it work. In a small group, it was actually preferable. Though Leona could hardly imagine how this Crusade could be more personal for Kaelyn.

Downstairs at the gala, Leona found Casavir chatting away happily with Neeshka and a few instructors, while Gann was quizzing the female students to see which of them were farmgirls. She wanted to go to them, but knew she had to make some social rounds, first. She chatted with a few faces she recognized from her journey, and then caught her stepfather's eye. He made a head motion towards the door, and when she got there, Ellanee was also waiting. "Come, daughter," he said, and led her West out in the dark, cool night. She noticed three things: first, that Daeghun had never called her anything but "foster daughter" her whole life. They had never adventured together, and now that she thought about it, she mostly forgot he was with the party. Druids and rangers were generally fade-into-the-shadows types, but had she remembered he was there more often, she might have been paralyzed with indecision. Instead she acted as she always had, and he was clearly impressed. Her heart swelled as she thought of all these years she had tried to earn his respect. She never imagined they might be on a mission together – especially one so important as to involve angels, and the very Gods themselves.

She also noticed that although they all had civilian dress clothes on, they each had their bow and quiver on top of it. Rangers and druids, never without the connection to the outdoors, she thought. Not that she'd never used her bow inside, as evidenced by the battle with the devils the other day.

The last thing Leona realized was how long it had been since she'd really been outside in fresh air – especially since the visit to the Wall. There in the Afterlife, everything seemed like it was outside, but the air was stale as no one was actually breathing it. It was only by pure magic that they were able to exist there, and that for a short time. She'd barely been out in real air since then, and realized her sense of suffocation had come from that lack. She'd felt all day like she was choking. Like feeding hunger with food, Leona was usually aware of her regular need to get outdoors. This time, though, her balance was offset by the unsettling Afterlife environment, and the adrenaline-filled fake battle. Daeghun was either feeling the same way, or could see her haggard face.

"Thank you," she said to them. Ellanee gave a slight nod and neither said anything, but kept leading her West. Eventually they got to the stables. Leona's breath caught with childlike excitement: it had been a very, very long time since she'd been on a horse. Naturally as a ranger she loved to ride, but the only thing she rode lately was a bear, and usually only when injured or tired.

They chose horses and set out to the North forest. The trees were far enough apart that they could fly past them, but Leona quickly fell behind the elves, who were naturally adept with horses than any skills she could acquire. No one worried; they could easily track each other, and the Academy owned wide grounds. Leona worked the horse up to full gallop and relished the cliché of wind through her hair. Her braids were brushed out and she was in dress clothes, but never happier than racing the mount through the darkness.

When she tired of speed, Leona turned west and trotted the horse to the periphery of the Academy grounds. She felt like she'd just had a good night's sleep, and was ready to explore. Didn't Safiya mention a series of temples along the West side of the grounds? She headed due west, readying her bow in case of thieves on the borders.

Soon Leona came across four small temples, small enough to be large bedrooms and close enough that one could stick arms out the windows and shake hands with those in the next building. Illmater, Kaelyn's God, was first: not surprising given where in the world they were. Lloth was next, who Leona knew little about except for one spider she met once who worshipped him. Kelemvor, the God of the Dead, was next; she expected this. She entered the small, dark room to see candles strewn about casually. Whatever few devotees Kelemvor had, they had not kept His temple clean. She set about straightening it, as she would have for any temple she came upon. Now that she was here, it seemed disrespectful to leave it this way.

When she finished, she lit a candle herself. She left the temple, took the horse on a hunt for a small mammal, and bagged a rabbit easily. Then she returned to the temple, and started a fire in the pit at the back with the candle she had lit. She then threw the rabbit in, and tried to summon up her most honest prayer for a God she was bound to rebel against, very soon.

Kelemvor, noble and just God of the Dead. Please accept this offering from a humble ranger, in thanks for allowing me to regain my soul. You will know me as the Last of the Spirit Eaters. You may think that I…disrespected Your plane. We may disagree, but please know I thank You, and I respect Your just rule as the God of the Dead.

Leona suddenly felt very frightened in the small temple alone. It was as quiet as it had been a few minutes ago, save for the fire's roar. But sometimes in devotion, one feels the stirring of a God, if not the voice itself. It can be pure elation if it is one's chosen deity, but in this case, Leona and this God had had their differences – big differences. She suddenly felt maybe she had called too much attention to herself. Did she want to be on Kelemvor's radar, before she stood at his doorstep?

Leona backed away, and again felt the safe, cleansing air as she examined the final temple of the four. She was astonished to find it was a temple of Tyr. Her heart sank. Now that she had seen it, she had to go in. Tyr had blessed her union with Casavir, and had shown her lover great forgiveness and support after the Manor Prison confinement. But why didn't He ever give Casavir a sign during his two years of daily devotions from the prison? Why did He let him Fall? Tyr had followers all over – even in this faraway land. But surely Casavir was one of the most loyal. Tyr had spoken to him Himself, many times. Why would he throw all that away?

She tried to think only positive thoughts of the God as she entered the temple. He has been kind to my lover. We were united with His blessing. He showed Casavir great support after the prison. He has been there for us. She kept repeated these things as she lit the candle with shaky hands, and knelt on the small, cold stone. No, I have to admit it. I am angry at You.

To her relief, she felt no stirring of the air as she did in Kelemvor's temple. There was, really, no one there but herself. She curled in upon herself and wept for all Casavir had worked at and lost. She wept for faith gone awry. She wept for her selfishness, her resentment that she had to get to know her lover all over again. What if she didn't like the new, laid-back Casavir? What if he didn't like her?

She wept for a very long time. And then she wiped her face, and left the temple's tear-covered floor, without even a glace back. She rode the horse until they both were tired, and until her face was only red from the rush of air.

When Leona returned, the gala was still in full swing. Most of her compatriots were still there, and they'd gotten either very loud (the dwarves) or very quiet (the wizards). She wanted to tell Casavir about the temple, but wanted even more to set a time to wander off with him, as she did alone tonight. They spent so much time around others, now, and time together in the open wilderness would be healing for her.

Casavir was off to the side, playing cards with Neeshka, Gann, and Ophala. Leona's heart sank as if she'd been replaced. And she also felt a rush of anger, that she was making devotions to his God while he whiled away the night at cards with his ex-lover.

But when Ophala turned her head, Leona saw that she had a black eye. Leona grabbed a mug and said, "I'm sure you've seen your fair share of bar fights, but how many have you been in, exactly?"

"Too many to count, child. But this was no bar fight. I got this from a local rogue leader who wanted knowledge of your Prison. I warned you this was coming, did I not?"

Leona frowned. "But you know nothing of the Prison." She was skeptical; Ophala was manipulative, and when she talked, Leona always felt like she wasn't getting the full story.

"Correct. I may have put word out that you were under my protection."

"And thus her domain," said Casavir. Clearly she had misread this seemingly-cozy scene. He was angry, and rightly so.

"What exactly does it mean to be under your protection? Does this mean you got the black eye that was meant for me?"

"Precisely."

"Sorry, O," said Neeshka, "but you can't bullshit a bullshitter. Spill it."

Ophala sighed. "I did spread word that you were under contract only with me, and that I already knew many details about the Prison. I admit I overplayed it. Nine times out of ten it works, and frankly, it will eventually work with you, too. You won't tell secrets to anyone else and in the end, you know I can protect you best. I have more allies in the underworld than anyone around. Including anyone here."

"I smell blackmail," Gann said in a singsong voice, playing a card for the win.

Leona leaned back in her chair and stretched out her tired arms. Since she wasn't playing cards, her whole brain was processing. And she'd just had plenty of fresh air to fuel it.

"You know, I have to thank you, Ophala."

"Oh?"

"This whole battle we had today: it was inspired by you. After meeting you for the first time, when I sought information…it was unpleasant, I'll admit. But it was a revelation. You have more power in Neverwinter than anyone else. Maybe even more than Lord Nasher himself. The war of ideas is an element I never dreamed could be so powerful."

Ophala smiled, and shuffled the cards. "Coming from you that is a fine compliment indeed. I thank you."

"With your permission, Casavir, I think I would accept Ophala's offer of protection, in exchange for some information about the prison."

Neeshka snickered. "'With your permission.' Don't get any ideas, Gann." Then he snickered too.

"I give it." Casavir nodded slightly and collected his cards.

Ophala's face positively lit up at the news. "To be honest," she said, "I wasn't really sure you'd both come around. You two are locked up tight as a safe."

"There will be a contract, and it will be explicit."

"Of course, Casavir."

Leona continued, "Our demands will include that our information won't be traded for use against the city of Luskan."

Neeshka snickered again. "Like you give a shit about those assholes."

"It's the right thing to do. We were discreet about the rescue. I don't want to cause trouble for Casavir either."

Ophala nodded. "Unlikely. But all the same, done."

Then when all looked comfortable, Ophala said, "and of course my demands will include sleeping with all of you, for first-hand knowledge of your education."

Casavir dropped his mug, Neeshka snorted, and Leona just opened her mouth and eyes very wide. Gann, as usual, acted like Ophala had just asked something very reasonable.

She looked surprised. "Oh, come now. If I am to have a monopoly on this information, I cannot claim its validity any other way. You knew this. Don't act all virginal with me. I know each person at this table has had many lovers, of both sexes, and often at the same time. As usual I'm the only one to call a spade a spade."

"No, you're not the only one," said Gann. He winked at her. "See you tonight in your dreams, candid elf."

Ophala made sure to look at each of them in turn before she got up to leave. She knew that they wouldn't want to look at her anymore tonight, because it would make them feel ashamed. But she also knew that they would sign the contract. It was just a matter of time.

"So, the next step is?" Safiya was a little cranky today, after working very hard the past few days to quell rumors that the Academy she'd helped rebuild was unsafe. She also had to open and close portals at specific times, and throw a big gala on short notice – not to mention arrange for clean-up of the grand hall. Everyone else felt triumphant and restful, but she needed a break.

"I think the question is," Leona said, "how long we let the rumors spread before acting. I have a few ideas once we're ready for action."

"I can speak to that," Ophala said. "No more than a few days should do. We don't want to lose momentum."

"Kaelyn? Fia? Are there others you might recruit from your old order?"

The angels exchanged glances and looked back to the group, discouraged. "Maybe one. At most two. Many of those who sided with me are dead."

"At whose hand?" asked Gann.

"Devils, angels…."

"Startin' to sound like the same thing," Khelgar muttered.

They broke for the day, all promising to train and keep sharp. There would be much battling ahead, now.

"Is it possible," Gann asked Kaelyn as they left, "that your grandfather would request a meeting with you and Fia, to negotiate terms? For the Wall? I mean, you staged two coups in a row. Any wise leader would recognize you, officially, now."

"Angels don't recognize much, Gann. We are more of a nuisance, now, is all. A fly to be swatted away."

"A swarm, is more like it. Let's make ourselves a swarm."

Leona caught Safiya as she was leaving, knowing it wasn't the best time, but she couldn't bear to wait. "Safiya. Can you explain why there is a temple of Tyr on the grounds?"

Safiya smiled but was clearly distracted, mentally on to her next task. "Yes, it is odd. Decades ago there was a wealthy benefactor of the Academy who was a follower of Tyr. She demanded that a temple of worship be built with the others, if the Academy accepted her funds to build a new wing. It was an easy decision. It was used quite often for a while, but fell out of use, of course. Tyr isn't a very common God in these parts. Ironic for you, though."

Maybe not for me, Leona thought. He's not my God.

"And yet Kelemvor's temple was the one in disarray."

"Oh yes, that's ongoing. It's a student prank, hazing or something. They dare each other to screw with the temple, knock over things inside, bear the wrath of the God of the Dead. Students find Kelemvor particularly spooky. And after meeting Him myself, I have to say they're not wrong."

They started walking in different directions, and then Leona called out, "Hey, which wing is it?"

"Pardon?"

"The benefactor of Tyr. Which wing did she build?"

"Far East – Evocation. You can see why I don't go there much." Safiya's specialty was Transmutation, as was Sand's, so they spent more of their time on the South side of the grounds.

Leona's training with Grizelda was later, so she headed East – without Casavir.

Each God's devotees were of a different stereotype, understandable given how specific each was. Tyr had a great hand in keeping the world just, so his followers were usually stuck on concepts like justice and fairness. Thus, they were usually Paladins or something like it. That a red wizard would follow this path was more than unusual – it was paradoxical. Reds were notoriously a backstabbing, conniving bunch. The rest of the land of Rashemen feared and resented them for not sharing moral standards with those outside their lands.

But devotees to Tyr were usually fiercely loyal. As Leona walked the far East halls, she expected to see hidden tributes to Tyr everywhere she went. She found a few right in the construction, almost invisible unless one was looking for them. And of course, she also found Qara there.

"In the library! I thought you had no use for books."

"Well, this is a foreign land. We're kind-of learning on the job."

Leona smiled. "I won't blow your cover, Qara, don't worry."

"What brings you to the Far East? I'm ready to spar or practice."

"You know, that wouldn't be a bad idea. I've been neglecting my spells lately. I'd love to have you go over them. But I'm really here because…did you know this wing was built by a devotee of Tyr?"

Qara looked around the vast library as if for the first time. "No kidding! THAT'S why I'm seeing the scales and the hammer everywhere. Makes total sense now." She looked sideways at Leona. "What of it?"

Leona shook her head. "To tell you the truth, I don't know why I'm here. I came across a temple the other night and I just wanted to see if there were…signs, messages, something that might clue me in about…"

"About why He was such an asshole? Doubt it, sister. But I'm happy to point out what I noticed so far."

They walked the halls together, and Qara noted the small crests with scales and hammer carved one into each doorway. The doorway to the library archives had five crests around it, as if it was more important – and Leona supposed it was. All the same she felt she should go in, since it seemed the most Tyr-like place in the whole wing.

They were greeted by a wizened gnome – exactly the type one would expect to be the keeper of library archives. Leona explained that she was interested in Tyr's role in this wing's construction, and wanted to learn more about the God. The gnome was only too happy to tell the ladies all about the endowment, the plans, and the hidden tributes throughout the wing. "Like a treasure hunt, oh yes!" he cried.

Qara got bored quickly and went back to her local history. But Leona listened as long as the gnome wanted to talk, which was quite a while. Sooner or later, she figured, he would say something relevant, and later rather than sooner, he did.

"…and so the benefactor you see, she was a powerful proponent of Tyr, yes she was, and it was all because after she Fell from Grace and returned to…"

"I'm sorry, what? Can you repeat that?" Leona's mind had drifted off about which spells she would have Qara update, and she was sure the gnome just said –

"…Fell from Grace, yes, it was quite a scandal at that time. But she was returned to her status only months after it happened. What a strange twist of events, yes it was. She led this Academy, oh yes she did, and Tyr didn't much like how she had to rule it, so he excommunicated her. Oh yes. Quite a scandal, yes it was."

He had Leona's full attention now. "And then?"

"Yes, then she basically said to Him, I'll do it my way, yes she did, and she barely kept her title here, oh yes. But then the Academy thrived, and she set up a 'morals of Rashemen' course that still exists today, yes it does. And Tyr was so pleased at how she combined her background and His, that He brought her back into the fold, yes. Yes He did."

"He supported her free will?"

"Oh yes. And when she retired from service she made gold in lectures, yes she did, and gave much of it back to the school – with the caveat that her wing would celebrate Tyr's sense of fair play. So very rare among Gods, oh yes it is. Worth celebrating, oh yes."

Leona shook her head to clear it. "So let me get this straight. This whole endowment we're standing in, happened because Tyr brought this wizard back to Grace after letting her Fall?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. This was her thanks for Tyr's acceptance of her, just as she was."

"But what did she DO to get back to Grace?"

"Only what she thought was right, oh yes. A true one of morals doesn't question his own ways, oh no. He knows in his gut, and follows that only. Yes, follows that more than the Gods themselves. Shouldn't be saying that under Tyr's roof, oh no. But I do believe Tyr likes those with strong wills of their own. Yes, yes I do."

Leona's head was truly spinning when she got back to her quarters. She hadn't eaten much, was still tired from the battle and gala, and was mentally worn out from her strange conversation with the gnome. This afternoon she would meet up with Qara, to recover spells; tonight she and Casavir were going out into the forest, for time away from others. Between Leona as unofficial leader, their newfound fame as lovers, and Kaelyn's growing reputation, they were having a hard time living simply in the ever-more crowded Academy. Tension was building. Something was going to give soon.

"Sorry, girl, but all your spells are nature-based. I mean, duh, of course they are. I don't see these being too useful in the Afterlife."

It was after lunch and Leona and Qara were going over some spells over tea. A more civilized meeting had never taken place, but soon they'd start sparring and it would get crazy in the room. Qara was counting on it, Leona could tell.

"We'll start with the healing. You'll want to be able to heal Honus, and remove poison and disease. What animal do you summon when you do it?"

"A boar."

"We'll keep that."

Leona took the notes and tried to remember all the spells. She was getting sleepier by the minute.

"Next, you want to dispel invisibility, that's a big one, polymorph yourself, ok, summon blades…sorry, girl, these spells are lame with a capital L."

"I'm not an aggressive spellcaster, sorry."

"Come on. Let me teach you how to throw a fireball. Just one."

Leona smiled from the corner of her mouth, as if proudly placating a child. "All right."

"Sweet. I'll even give you one scroll as a souvenir."

They mock-battled. Leona was terrible. She threw a fireball straight into the corner statue – good thing they were blanks. Qara was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

"Ok, you've earned your souvenir. Let's look at your arrows, now."

Leona's arrows were in good shape. Her fire arrows were plentiful, as were her double arrow and sureshot, won't-miss stash. She rarely needed those because she was naturally a very good shot even without magic.

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, which Leona realized was a first. Qara shot blank fireballs around the room and Leona shot them with blank arrows. It was very good practice, and they promised to do it again sometime. Leona left feeling like she had made a friend, a warmer feeling than she'd had in a long time.

Though the weather was chilly that evening, Leona asked Casavir to pack a picnic with her and head to the edge of the grounds, where she'd investigated with her horse a few nights before. They headed North, where there were huts for just this purpose: protection from the elements, for a short time. Some were already occupied with wayward students or secret trysts, but they easily found an occupied hut and made a fire while setting out food. Just like at the Keep, they were rarely alone. And when they were, it was in the big bedroom chambers, where…Leona didn't want to think about it. Ophala had brought to light just what model, spectacular lovers they must be, and that complicated things for her. They were, quite literally, magic in bed. But most of life is spent outside of that, and they had very big problems on their plates. It was almost a curse, to have this one perfect thing when their problems were so great, elsewhere.

Once they started eating, she started talking. "I visited Qara today on the East side of the compound," she began.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Did you know that whole wing was built as a tribute to Tyr? Imagine, all the way out here." Leona tried to keep her voice light. She didn't want to make it sound too important, even though it took all her strength not to shout.

Casavir said nothing, but his body language changed: he leaned out just a little, and chewed his food more slowly.

"I was talking to the librarian of the wing." Leona let go the façade, and touched her lover's arm. "Casavir, the wizard who built the wing, she was Fallen. And she went her own way, and was allowed to return to Grace by Tyr. She built the entire wing in thanks. Isn't that uncanny? Outstanding? Interesting?"

He held his chicken leg at arm's length and looked at her, inspecting her for motive. "Do you imply that because this woman returned to Grace, I would, as well?"

Now it took all her effort not to stammer. "Casavir, I know you…I mean I…I just wanted you to know that it had happened. That it could happen. I mean, imagine, here, in this faraway place, with all these other Gods. What are the chances, I mean, there's even a temple that –"

"Why did she Fall?"

"Why does it matter?"

Casavir smirked. "Because I have joined a siege on a God, Leona. I doubt she and I are in a class together."

Now it was Leona's turn to smirk. "So, let's do the math. You murder a man, you leave your glorified career path to become a rogue warrior, and you spend two years succumbing to the sexual wiles of a prison with Gods knows how many women. None of these times do you Fall from Grace. And you think there's a simple reason she did? Give Tyr a little credit, why don't you?"

"I did plenty of good in those years."

"And? You're doing plenty of good now."

"I don't want to go back."

At that they both stopped. Neither Leona nor Casavir himself expected he would say that.

"You don't?"

"I don't."

Leona looked down, and then at the fire. She wasn't sure she should ask, but…"Why?"

Casavir sighed, and for a passing moment, looked like the "unhinged" man that Ophala had once loved. "My values have not changed. My goals have not changed. Ihave not changed. Yet before, I had to withdraw from the world. I had to separate myself. While you were all around the campfire, I was watching you and abstaining. While you met at Duncan's pub, I was praying in the temple. While you were reveling with Bishop, I was –"

"GODS!" Leona stood up roughly, upsetting some food on the blanket. "He's GONE, Casavir, and I am with you! You Fall, and don't care because I spent a day with Bishop? Still?"

He stayed calm and sitting, looking at her as if she were alien. "It is an example, Leona, not a metaphor. I missed out on…fun. I am the same man and the world around me is the same world. But now I am actually in it. I can't see one negative thing about that. Not one."

Leona, still standing, glared at him. "Your powers?"

"I would trade them."

Her hands were in fists. "You're weaker with your blade, for one thing. And you won't be saying you'd trade powers for fun, when I'm injured at the Wall, and you can't lay your hands on me to heal."

In a very un-Casavir-like gesture, he rolled his blue eyes. "We have bards to buff us and healers to heal us." Then he stood up and walked towards her. "And I very well can lay my hands on you, can't I?"

Leona was angry at his words, and doubly angry that he was being playful. It seemed like he wasn't taking his plight seriously. Or their plight together, as a party. They needed all the strength they could get. Shouldn't he want to be at his top fighting levels for taking on angels, devils, and Gods?

She put her hand out to stop him from approaching her, because she didn't want to entertain his whims; she wanted to talk. But out of her hand swirled the fireball that Qara had gifted her. She wasn't ready to use it and didn't expect it to be in her hand, but she was that angry that it had appeared, on emotional cue. Casavir jumped back, and patted down his tunic, which was charred.

"Leona?" He spoke to her slowly, like one would to the mentally ill. That made her even more irate.

"I spent the day looking for clues to make you whole. And now you tell me you're happy to have 'fun'. You talk of sex when I talk of healing injured. Pardon me for being a little behind on the playfulness."

"Listen," he said, hands up in defeat. "I am the same man –"

"You are NOT the same man. You drink ale; you gamble. You sit next to Neeshka. You laugh from your belly. You can't dispel magic. You kiss me in public."

Casavir rubbed his face and eyes. "Surely I have better control of myself now than when I returned from the Manor Prison. These things you name, are distasteful to you?"

"No… no. Just new. I don't dislike you, Casavir. But I don't know you. Not yet."

His face grew hard. "This is the problem here. I. Am. No. Different. There is nothing new to know."

"No, the problem is that while all looks the same to you – you've said that several times – it doesn't to me."

She closed her eyes and rubbed them with the backs of her hands. When she opened them again, Casavir was standing right in front of her, too close. She jumped, instantly on her guard like the fighter she was. Why was she afraid of him? Everything was unsettled. "Casavir, wait. I feel like I can't trust…"

"Me?" He said, as he grabbed her arms and pushed her against the back of the hut. "Surely you don't fear me? After all our nakedness together?"

Leona hadn't thought much of the night he'd come to her, after she'd been with Bishop. He was in a terrible rage, and was too aggressive. Finally he'd backed off when she said he was hurting her. She'd known he would. Now, she was strangely afraid even to say the words. She didn't know, anymore, if he would heed her request to step away, and was petrified to find out.

"You're hurting me," she said flatly.

"No, I'm not."

She pushed against him, but even without holy power he was far stronger, and he didn't budge. She started to panic. If he forced her, there would be no coming back from this. What had he become? "Casavir, don't. Please."

He leaned in to her neck and said against it, "You have to believe I have not changed. Is this not the same body that wants you?"

Leona strained her neck as far back as it would go. "If you had not changed, you would have let me go by now. That's what the man I love would do."

As if a spell was broken, he dropped her quick, so fast she almost fell over. He backed away so quickly that he almost stepped into the fireplace, and caught his balance on the edge of the hut. When he regained himself, and looked back at her, his face fell. She was facing him with her sword drawn. It had come to this. He was ashamed, yet also strangely indignant. Had he offended her so greatly? By sharing his passion? What he'd done wasn't much different than on many nights they'd spent together, before his Fall.

Before his Fall…Astonishment turned to comprehension on his face. She really did not trust him. She really did see him as an altogether different man. In his selfishness, he had focused only on the changes for himself, which were almost all positive. They hadn't been in any long battles since he Fell, so his powers weren't needed. He felt no sense of loss from their absence. He had simply opened up to a tempting world of abandon – one that he had to admit, he had coveted for so long.

But in that easy shift he'd forgotten that the changes for others had been palpable. He'd been taken with how Neeshka warmed to him; everyone seemed so much more comfortable around him. He assumed that Leona, too, would be pleased. Now they could spend more time together – time that would have been temple time. He imagined long nights together, at Duncan's pub back home at the Keep. He imagined, when all this was over, taking simple adventuring trips, in places Tyr did not dare to follow. Truth be told, he had never felt better, and thought all his relationships would reflect that. If he was improved, all around him should be, as well. Never had it occurred to him that Leona would find him an unsettling stranger. Never had he imagined she would see him as an outsider in her bed.

He realized his mistake, and crumpled on the hut floor. "Gods, Leona, I have hurt you. I thought you would be pleased…I thought we could be together…there are no boundaries for us…the whole world is ours…we can…we can…"

Leona did not move her sword even an inch. "I think you should go home, Casavir. I am afraid, and I don't want to be afraid and alone with you."

He stared at her with a pleading look. "Better to be afraid and be all alone here?"

"I won't be afraid if I'm alone." She knew the words would sting, but she also knew she needed separation, right now. She didn't want it, but knew it was best. She wanted to give in, instead, but as with a child, a precedent had to be set. She feared that Casavir's new self was like a pony one has to break in. She didn't want to suffer the consequences of the training.

"Break in your new self. Give him a test run, but not with me."

"I won't go back to Grace, Leona. Would you still have me, given that?"

Yes. Now. "Maybe. But not tonight."

He left without another word, and took nothing with him, not even his weapons. He did not want to make any moves in the hut that would scare the woman he loved, so he rushed away. It was because of that, that he was handily beaten by the thieves, a half-mile out from the hut. The new, improved, fun-loving Casavir had no magic and no weapons. He was just a strong man, distracted and outnumbered, and he went down easily.

Leona spent a good hour staring at the fire, as if it could tell fortunes. Some of the students nearby were rowdy, and she could hear men yelling a ways away, but she tuned them all out. Now that Casavir was gone from her sight, she missed him desperately. She chided herself for not trusting him: could he really be so dangerous? How he must feel, as wounded as if she had cut him, for real, with her blade. She imaged him fleeing to the Academy into the open arms of Ophala, who would at last have her chance to sample the teachings of the Manor Prison. Leona had all but released him from commitment to her. Perhaps he would take it to heart, and sow his wild oats in beds throughout Rashamen. It's surely what he did when he came back to Neverwinter, so it wasn't completely out of possibility.

When the fire started to die down, Leona cleaned up the mostly uneaten food. Casavir had left all his weapons, and she had too much to carry, so she rolled them up and hid them in a bundle behind the hut. She would return tomorrow with a horse and retrieve them. She packed up her own weapons and the food, looking forward to the long walk home in the open air. If there was ever a time this ranger needed nature, it was now. As soon as she stepped out, the fresh oxygen rejuvenated her, and gave her hope that all would soon be well.

But her attention soon turned to signs that made her uneasy. There was little activity in this part of the forest right now, which for this time of night was unusual. There should be small critters, bats, distant howls from wolves. The night was silent – too silent.

She also noticed that up ahead on the path, there were branches strewn about. This could have been animals, but since there were none around, and it was right off the path, it pointed to a human scuffle. Normally, given the student revelry she'd just seen back at the huts, she'd have brushed off the thought. But when she went over to the dirt, she saw only fresh footprints to and around the huts – none coming the other way. And it didn't take a superb ranger like herself to notice that someone had been dragged through the brush against his will. A big someone. A man, weaponless…

Leona broke off into a run through the brush, bow out in front and strung. When she got to a new, gently used path, she tread lightly, almost invisible to eyes and ears. She heard heavy footfalls in front, and could almost make out a few camoflauged tents far ahead.

When the man making the footfalls came into view, she cocked an arrow, aimed to wound. It was very bad luck: as soon as she let it fly, someone called the man's name and he turned his head, arrow hissing past his shoulder. He turned in her direction but surely couldn't see her, though he and a companion took off at a run right towards her. She edged to the left, cocked another arrow, and let loose…and missed. I don't miss, she thought. They must have magic wards on this area. She drew her sword and silently went around to the other side of the tent.

Rangers are good at silent attacks, and she took the first man down with barely a peep. She still hit to wound, which was difficult to do silently, but she had no proof that they were threats to her, and wanted to play it safe. These men were thugs – not at all stealthy – but the second knew she was coming, and she assessed him as a decent fighter. She got as close as she could, and jumped out in front of him for the element of surprise. She swung several times and found the man very hard to hit. Fucking magic, she thought. I might not win this one unless I get lucky.

She got lucky. A swing at his thigh connected, and he doubled over as she cracked him across his back and sent him to the ground.

The lookouts now dispatched, Leona marched towards the middle of the three tents, hoping she hadn't just disarmed innocent men. When she reached it, she saw a figure at the door. And as she got closer, she saw that the figure was a mage. Despite her own protective wards, the mage threw one spell at her and knocked her down. While on the ground she notched an arrow, so that when she came up again she'd have a shot. But she didn't come up again, because another mage stepped out, hit her with the same spell again, and then a third man grabbed her weapons and tied her limbs. "Damn it,"she mumbled aloud. "Two mages? What are the chances?"

"As it happens, quite good," said the first mage in a slithery voice, that Leona thought quite fit him. "We are friends of Ophala. Well, we were, until now. Though –" he pretended to pout – "I have a feeling that now we may have something she wants, and she might not think us friends anymore."

"I. Will. Fucking. Kill. Her." Leona spat through gritted teeth.

"Good luck," said the mage. "She is very hard to kill. I should know. But you could try killing her cash cows instead. After they're milked, of course. Yes, I think this will work very nicely indeed."

Leona wondered if she was the cash cow he referred to. And then, quite against her own will, she slept.

Kaelyn's grandfather Fierentila looked very out of place in the vestibule of Safiya's office. As usual he was flanked by two guards, who also looked misplaced – and uneasy. It was clear they were unused to the mortal plane, and they looked around suspiciously, as if something might jump out at them.

"I repeat to you, Red Wizard, I want to see my angels."

"And I repeat to you, Solar, that your jurisdiction does not extend to this Academy. And even if it did, 'your angels' wings are blackened. They are free from your command."

Fierentila's already-milky white face blanched. "Fia? Fia is…"

"Oh yes." Safiya shrugged. "Though how an angel can get kicked out of Heaven for helping another, but NOT get kicked out for beating her to a bloody pulp, well, I'll never understand you people."

"WE PEOPLE are what keep your world from falling in on itself, insolent and Faithless child."

Safiya wanted to roll her eyes, but Kaelyn had told her that was very dangerous indeed in front of creatures with wings. Something about implications skyward, and insults. Instead she gathered up her courage, and glared right at the powerful man. "You are in my home, now, and you think you insult me. But the way I see it, there are only two types of mortals to you: insolent or ignorant. Call me insolent if you like. I would much rather be that, than blind to your hypocrisy."

Fierentila's two guards stepped between them; Safiya realized it was to protect her, not him. His temper flared, and his mace-of-fireworks came down with a crash that made lightning strike within the room. Angels weren't known to have such tempers, Safiya thought. Does he travel with guards to protect others from his irrational tantrums?

There were no guards behind him, though, and Safiya heard a voice from her office door. "It's all right, Safiya. Thank you. I could feel that he was here, anyway." Kaelyn and Fia walked in. Fia's wings were indeed tipped with black, though Kaelyn's had been dark for some time. Much like Casavir had described his transformation, nothing else about Fia seemed to have changed. The color of wings was about favor, not deeds. Safiya found this unjust as well.

Fierentila turned gracefully, almost faster than the eye could catch. The guards didn't know where to position themselves, and in their moment of hesitation Kaelyn took a step towards her grandfather. Then they positioned themselves in front of him, ignoring Safiya. Despite his grace, Fierentila was clearly fuming at the turn of events. The millennia-old creature looked like a frustrated little boy. Safiya sympathized that it must be difficult for these angels: they had centuries upon centuries of mortals bowing to them, fearing them. It was only recently, she figured, that anyone thought they could even look upon angels and live to tell of it. Then people started talking to them. Then, people started talking back to them. It was clear that whenever Fierentila talked, he expected everyone to listen and heed. Kaelyn herself had started the trend of questioning, and the world had never looked back. Anyone would feel as Fierentila did now; anyone at all.

"Fia," he said sadly. "My Fia. How you have shamed me."

If there was one word to describe Fia, it was "stoic." She was a classic warrior in that she listened well and said little. But she was visibly hurt by his words. He had ordered her beaten for sharing information with Kaelyn, that day at the Wall. She admitted to herself now that she'd hoped he might be happy to see her healed. She said only to him, "Perhaps you wish that I had died from my wounds instead."

"Perhaps I do," he said. To many races, shame is worse than death. But the twist was that Fia felt no shame. That hurt Fierentila even more deeply, and he displayed his hurt with coldness.

An electric buzz flitted around Kaelyn and her partner. Kaelyn hated to show the first hostility, but she was both frightened and angry, and knew her grandfather was too. Whatever he came for, it was likely to end in aggression. And at least, this would protect them – for a time.

"Why are you here, Grandfather?"

"There was a time, child, you would say, 'To what do I owe the honor?' There was even a time you would have knelt before me, waiting for me to speak first. You cannot imagine how you wound me, and your own image, with every impertinent word you utter."

Kaelyn and Fia said nothing. For a time the only sound was the electric pulse of the shield she'd created around them.

"I am here," Fierentila finally said, "because some of the Gods have ordered it."

There was a lot to take from that one sentence: Fierentila had not wanted to come. Some but not all of the Gods supported this move. And he was doing what the majority of Gods – or maybe just his favorite ones – told him to do.

"Which Gods?"

"I am not able to divulge."

Kaelyn thought during the next silence. Hadn't Gann just asked her if Fierentila might come to make her a deal? He was a supreme strategist, that Gann. He knew human nature well, but Kaelyn was surprised to find that he knew about other races, also. And what had she told him? That her grandfather would never do that. He was too proud, and what's more, would not want to acknowledge her as an equal. If he was here at the Gods' bequest, the Gods themselves acknowledged her. Right now, then, it didn't really matter which ones. They would sort that out later.

"For whom is their message?" They had begun Angelic war-speak, which was made of short, cropped sentences. Safiya, who was obviously listening in, knew little about it, other than that it meant they were officially on opposite sides of an issue. Not a surprise to anyone in the room. Safiya was thinking about the image of chubby, half-clad children playing small harps. When angels got down to it, they were warriors. Certainly not matchmakers, with flowery, musical language, as everyone thought.

Fierentila said, "For you."

"Not Fia?"

"No."

Kaelyn's eyes did not move towards Fia, though she wanted to look at her. They all knew what the words meant: the recipient of the message established rank among them in this room. Right now Kaelyn – and Kaelyn only – was negotiating as the leader. That Fia had joined her did not make them equals, in the angels' eyes; instead, it meant that Kaelyn now had the ability to acquire followers. Which, of course, made her an instant threat. Fia knew the drill, literally. She moved an almost negligible distance in front of Kaelyn, to protect her official leader.

"What is the message."

Fierentila recited, "The Gods must be informed if you are to lead a Fourth Crusade."

Ah, so it was the Gods, and not him. Her suspicions were confirmed. "Why?"

Fierentila did his duty, but it was visibly hard for him. Safiya thought he was almost about to clear his throat before delivering the news. "Some of them support it."

"I beg your pardon?" Safiya knew she spoke out of turn, but she was so stunned by what she'd just heard that she couldn't help herself.

"Silence, Faithless!" Both guards spoke in unison. Safiya stepped back. She truly didn't want to make this harder for her friend, and did not want to battle these guards.

"Which Gods?" Kaelyn repeated.

"I am not able to divulge."

"Do you know which?"

"I do not."

She paused again. She had never herself negotiated this way – as a leader – and was so worried about making a mistake. She knew that her grandfather would retain some pride if she did her job well – even if he disagreed with the cause.

"Show me proof of their support."

Fierentila had been waiting for her to ask. He lifted his mace, and before them appeared a trunk. It contained one golden tunic, and a scroll. The scroll read,

Unlikely Friends

Unlikely Lovers

Unlikely Fighters

Unlikely Allies

One Animal Sentient

One Animal Familiar

Four Planes or More

Kindness in Fear

Faith in Bitterness

Strength After Descent

Thrice Trial and Reunion

Safe Passage

Free Will

Free Will

Free Will

Kaelyn read the scroll several times. Should she look like it made sense to her? She had no idea what this was. "This is not proof of Heavenly Intervention."

Fierentila nodded, and turned the scroll over. On its back was a golden mark Kaelyn that made Kaelyn feel suddenly like a child again. Unmistakable: this mark was from the Gray Alliance. She had traced it so many times that she could almost make it herself, though never quite, because it glowed with a three-dimensional element only Gods could produce. Kaelyn racked her brain for details. She could only remember that these Gods united around the belief that there were no absolutes in the world. Oh, how she had come to believe that. How Casavir had come to believe that. No one else but Gods could have made that mark, and it was proof enough for her. So cryptic, so... partial. These Gods were preparing her and her friends for war.

Kaelyn decided to neither confirm or deny that she understood the scroll. "The tunic is meant for?"

"Your Fallen."

"Fia?"

"No."

Kaelyn nodded.

Safiya had lost track of what was going on, but knew to stay quiet this time. She figured Kaelyn had it in hand.

Kaelyn took a deep breath. "I accept this gift from the Gray Alliance." She took another deep breath. What she was about to say, was not news, but once she said it, it would become official. It would be related to the Gods word for word. Once she spoke, her die was cast. She had to be at her best. She closed her eyes, conjured up an image of the Wall of the Faithless, and spoke in a clear voice of an army's general.

"I plan a Fourth Crusade against the Wall of the Faithless. My party will consist of Nineteen Prime Allies, and anyone else I can recruit to my army. On their behalf, I accept this endowment from the Gray Alliance. Our goal is to disable the Wall of the Faithless. We believe it to be unjust, to both mortals and Gods.

"We will assault the Wall with arms, logic, and persuasion. We will meet Kelemvor. We find him a just and noble God of the Dead, and our mission is not to dethrone or disable him. We seek destruction of the Wall only. We will reason with him. But if necessary, we will defeat Him. Our Crusade will only be complete when the Wall no longer punishes the Faithless. Until then, we will use any means possible. We will not negotiate or settle. After that outcome only, will we rest."

Fierentila, reciting again with blank face, said, "The Gray Alliance is behind you." And then he disappeared in an electric current that made Safiya blink several times before she could see straight. He left so quickly, that he didn't see Kaelyn reach out her hand, to tell him how much she really did love him.

Kaelyn and Fia recovered their composure as quickly as they could – the dust was literally settling in Safiya's office. Had they been human, they might be wiping away tears, feeling a torrent of emotions. But as it was, they just looked a little weary, and hastily shut the trunk together. They and Safiya agreed not to mention its contents to anyone yet. It was not time to launch the assault, and Kaelyn, a seasoned leader of armies, didn't want a call to arms until she was absolutely sure people would raise them. The Gods were about as patient as one could get, being immortal. Years could go by with no communication, and they wouldn't withdraw their support. But it wouldn't be years. They would continue spreading the word, gathering forces, and boosting morale through carefully planted ideas. Only then would they go through the portal.

There was a lot to think about. Kelemvor might now know they were coming, given Kaelyn's announcement to the Gods. They might be under greater attack from some petty Gods who believed the Wall was necessary to their devotee numbers. And if word got to the devils and demons, they would have a lot to deal with. The Hell-dwellers, of course, loved the Wall: it was a never-ending buffet of torture-ready souls. They wouldn't see it go down without a fight.

After the angels left Safiya's office, she sank down into her most comfortable chair and took a deep breath. What did all that mean? Who was the tunic for? What did the scroll say? Which Gods were involved? There were more questions than answers, and she was unsettled. She was just about to lock up and get some food and rest, when Ophala burst in. "We need spellcasters," she said. "Leona and Casavir are missing."

Leona awoke in the Manor Prison. It was cooler and the bed was harder, but Casavir was next to her and nothing else seemed to matter. She opened her eyes, and saw a wood framed ceiling and wood framed walls. Wait: this wasn't the Prison. The prison was red, and roomy, and lush. This was a cabin. Why was she here? Why did she feel that muddled, lusty air around her? She jumped out of bed and looked around.

It was a cabin, a small one with one window and one door. Both were locked, and warded. Everything around her was wooden, from the bed to the toilet, to the pitcher that held water and the bowl that held fruit. The window view showed a cluttered field or maybe a forest; Leona, a good ranger, could tell from the growth and type of bushes that they were well north of the Academy. The Academy…She could barely remember why she'd been there in the first place. All right, think backwards slowly. Don't panic. The last thing she remembered was…the hut. Casavir leaving. The mages. Shit.

She rushed to the bed; Casavir was in it. She leaned over him and shook him to wake him. As he stirred and she leaned over him, he pulled her into an embrace. She pushed his lazy, sleepy arms away and shook him harder. If this didn't work, she'd have to get the jug of water to throw on him. Of course he'd be more susceptible to spells now, too. He didn't have the natural Paladin spell protection anymore.

Eventually he did wake, and rubbed his eyes, and looked around. "Oh," he said, reaching for her. "I thought we were-"

"Yeah. Me too," said Leona. She stepped back, with effort. "But I think we were kidnapped or something. Do you remember being taken?"

He rubbed his chin. "I remember…Oh, Gods, we were arguing. I remember having to leave you. I remember walking back on the path."

"That's all? They didn't say anything to you?"

He changed the subject. "Why is this like the Manor? Are you sure it's not?"

"It just doesn't feel right. The door is locked, for one thing. They'd never do that at the Manor."

Casavir stood and looked out the window. "You were taken, and I could have been there to help."

Despite Leona's muddied head, she couldn't help but notice that he said, "I could have been there" instead of "I should have been there," which is what she was used to hearing. No longer Paladin, he was without self-blame. She read into his words that he knew he didn't have to help her, but he wanted to. And he didn't consider her abduction his fault. In fact, he almost seemed to be implicating her, instead. Interesting. She didn't mind it; she liked the agency.

"Actually, I saw that you'd been taken and I came after you."

"So, what did they tell you? Anything?"

"Yes. They said they'd been friends of Ophala's, and now had something she wanted. And then something about killing us."

"Typical. Ophala's friends causing trouble."

Leona tried the door again. "Let's not leave her out of the blame, shall we?"

She paced the room, anxious to let go of pent-up energy. The air was stuffy with lust, obviously a similar spell as the Prison. "How did they know? Surely she didn't tell."

"Tell what?"

"About the spells at the Prison." How had she put it to Ophala? You could have put two enemies in a room together, and by day's end they'd have been lovers. She felt about as unattracted to Casavir as she ever had, given their last night together. Forcing himself on her was despicable. And yet…they wouldn't last long in here. "We have to get out before we forget."

Casavir backed away from her each time she passed near him. "The mages. They want us to be intimate."

She stopped pacing, a safe distance away, and stared at him, finally comprehending. "You're right. They want to know if we have secrets."

"They did," Casavir continued, "exactly what she warned they'd do."

"Which makes me wonder if she planned it herself."

Casavir backed over to the bed and sat down, rubbing his chin again. "Not her style. It's too risky. What she wants is to bed both of us, Leona. She doesn't want to be a peeping Tom. She's too direct for this nonsense." He spoke with such authority about her that Leona almost took offense. He usually paid Ophala so little attention that Leona often forgot just how well he knew her. But he had a point.

"Then how in the Nine Hells do these assholes know about the spells?"

"Almost got them spot on, too," Casavir muttered, legs bouncing all around.

"What do you mean, almost? It's identical."

"No, it's not." Casavir jumped up as soon as Leona paced past, and went back to the corner with the window. "It's harsher. More urgent, impatient. There is no subtlety here. It's pretty heavy-handed, actually. They have time constraints. At the prison, they can wait forever for you to crack. These people don't have the luxury."

Leona stopped pacing and hopped up and down, feeling like her veins had been replaced with electric currents. "How are you that sensitive to the spell nuance? You've never been a wizard."

"I have no protection from it, now. It's like I took earmuffs off. Clear as a bell."

They spent most of the morning trying to figure out: first, how their captors came up with the spell idea when Ophala hadn't; second, how they might get out; and third, what they would do with themselves instead of having sex. They had to hold out. But there was very little mental space available to fashion an escape plan.

"This is, perhaps," said Casavir with a smirk, "the strangest way I've ever been tortured for information."

"Don't smile at me," Leona said, turning her back on him and banging her head against the wall. "You've been tortured before?"

"Of course." He replied as casually as if she'd asked if he'd ever eaten apples.

"Don't tell me about it right now. It will make you seem heroic. I can't afford to like you at all."

Neither of them was too hungry, but they eventually each ate a piece of fruit, while trying to name things they hated about each other. They recalled last night's fight, which at first kept Leona across the room easily with her arms angrily crossed across her chest. But eventually she had a hard time remembering why she'd pushed him away in the first place, which just led them to talk more about being together – just the talk of it was difficult.

So then they talked about the most disgusting things they could think of: they described dead bodies they'd seen, terrible creatures they'd battled, horrors of war. It worked, for a time. They then talked about the Wall of the Faithless, and that cleared Casavir's head enough to name the warding spells on the door. Not that they could do anything about it, but at least they knew what they were up against. They eventually fell asleep that first night, she in the bathroom without a door (another thing like the Manor Prison that they got right) and he on the floor beside the bed, backs to each other and curled in balls.

The second morning they woke up in bed together again, with foggier heads than the day before. They kissed good morning, long and lengthy, until Casavir lifted his arm up to put around Leona, and just happened to bang it on the wall. The small jolt of pain cleared his head just enough to remember where he was, and he jumped out of the bed and towards the open bathroom as far as he could get from Leona. At first she laughed, but then she saw the look on his face – a combination of need and restraint – and she remembered too, and covered herself with the sheet.

On this day they talked more about the Wall – the only thing disturbing enough to keep the spell at bay – and by afternoon got to where they couldn't talk at all. They found there was an area in the bathroom section, that if one stood against the wall, he or she couldn't see the other person near the window. They took turns in those spots and stopped talking.

By the evening, Leona had used her fingernails to pry edges of some of the wood. They would never escape this way, but she secured something she could use to give herself pain, to stop the hunger. They could think of nothing else to do. She threw him some wood slivers across the floor, then turned her head so as not to watch his muscled arms reach for them. It was an ironic sort of Hell.

She was at the window – and could barely see a patch of sky above. If she could see just a bit more, she could surely get a lock on their location, given the sky patterns. But she just couldn't see enough of it. She was starting to get stir crazy in the cabin too, being so close to nature but only having one view of it. She punched the glass until her hand bled, but could not break it.

"Switch." That was Casavir calling that he wanted her spot, and for her to take the bathroom area spot. She inched along the wall to the bathroom, too late realizing that she was supposed to inch along the wall the other way. Her hand was stretched out in the dark along the wall, and Casavir's hand was stretched out feeling for the corner, and they touched. That was all it took.

When they came together, Leona felt like she'd been holding her breath for days. She gulped her lover in like oxygen. What remained of her thinking brain was begging her to pull away, but she couldn't bear to listen. It was as if she'd been freezing for so long and this was her only warmth, like a fire where you warm your hands. Fire, fire…fire.

When their lips parted, Leona made one last ditch effort to pull away from Casavir, and pointed her hands towards the door. "Get back!" she yelled, and he scurried around next to her as Qara's fireball swirled in her hands. She'd forgotten all about it, until she thought the word "fire." And there it was in her palm, her only weapon left. She had one shot. She crawled towards the door – bearing almost physical pain with each inch she moved away from Casavir – closed her eyes, and aimed. Qara was a strong sorceress, and her spells didn't disappoint. What's more, the mages hadn't put too much into the wards because they knew their charges were unarmed. It was nothing for a fireball to break down a wooden door, even warded as it was. Who would expect a ranger to have one?

Leona felt the night outside calling her – a palpable thing. Again she felt that feeling of a deep breath after stifling. But she could feel Casavir behind her, and didn't trust either of them right now. "Don't touch me," she said. He went very still, not even attempting to move backwards. They didn't want to touch accidentally again. She crawled, slowly, to the door. When she got one hand over the threshold, she heard Casavir groan behind her as if he was hurt. She willed herself not to turn around; she kept going, crawling now through the brush. They didn't have much time. There might be guards. If they were very lucky, the mages were just watching them via a spell, which would buy them some time.

As soon as her legs worked, Leona got up and started to run. She heard feet behind her and recognized them as Casavir's, so she knew he could follow if she went faster. She spared glances to the sky and navigated them South, which she knew was roughly the direction of the Academy, though it could be hundreds of miles. It was cold, and she ran out of energy quickly. Casavir came upon her, panting. She put her hand up in the dark, but he couldn't see; luckily he ran up next to her and didn't dare touch her, even now. She listened, putting her tracking ears to the test. She estimated they'd been running for about twenty minutes; she checked their surroundings. There were no caves nearby, but the trees made good cover, and good warmth. She headed for a patch of soft, downy bushes and curled up inside, almost completely out of view. Suddenly she had to sleep; her body was low on fuel and had expended so much energy running, fighting off spells, and throwing her one fireball.

Once she was settled in and camouflaged, Leona summoned Honus to her side. No wards prevented her magic anymore, and Honus would protect them through the night without needing to rest. What's more, if he'd been around others when she summoned him, it might be a clue for those others. He kept her shivering body warm with his ample fur.

Casavir curled up in a neighboring bush; she could feel the movement of the leaves and knew he was near. "Leona," he whispered. He was testing if it was safe to talk.

"Yes."

"Tomorrow," he murmured into the leaves, "when we're safe, you and I have some unfinished business."

"Don't I know it," she breathed. And then she fell asleep quite against her will, again.

Leona woke with a start, from crows calling overhead. She had a terrible muscle pain in her neck, and the hand she'd used to punch the window was stiff and swollen. Honus was curled up about halfway between her and Casavir, dozing but alert. Before moving, she listened carefully. Then she stretched, rustling the leaves. Honus and Casavir both stirred but stayed in place. She knew she could hunt without a bow, but felt so naked without her weapons. And she didn't want to light a fire, even by day – she might as well have called the mages by name. Instead she gathered some edible fruit and returned to their "camp," such as it was.

When she'd been taken, she'd raged against the injustice of two mages taking her down. Now that they'd escaped, she was heartened by the odds. Mages were not good trackers, and as a ranger she was excellent at covering where they'd been. Unless they had a ranger with them – and a very good one at that – it's unlikely they could track her down. On the other hand, they might have some locator spells they could attach to some of her things, like her weapons. But to do so would have required foresight, tying her to those spells while she was in the cabin. She suspected that once she and Casavir were in the mages' custody, they believed their hard work was done, and they got lazy. Who could resist potent lust spells, and escape a warded cabin with no weapons? What kind of ranger carries a fireball on her person? She shuddered, as if reliving the possibilities. Their escape had required a good deal of luck. Now, it was up to skill.

When the man and the bear awoke, they all ate fruit, and then Leona sent Honus tracking. "Go a mile in each direction; find the highest ground. Start South. Look for a path, or evidence of humans or magic." Off he lumbered, and the silence left among the lovers was unsettling. They were still uneasy around each other, and circled wide as if remnants of the spell were in the air. They spent the time in silence, each whittling spears out of long branches they'd collected.

After they each had two makeshift spears, they walked around the bushy area, staying away from the clearing but testing the heft of the new weapons. Each knew without saying so that they wouldn't spar, though any other two fighters in their position certainly would. But neither wanted to be that close to the other. Leona mused sadly that at one time, especially for Casavir, sex was the only salvation. For them as a couple, sometimes it was the only way they connected, even when emotionally distant. To be robbed of this brought her a sadness that she knew would have lasting ripples, and she mourned its loss.

Honus returned in the late afternoon when the sun was heading towards the horizon. He nuzzled Leona and earned a treat of fruit for his efforts. It was clear he had been through water, and Leona was instantly nervous about his tracks. She said this to her bear out loud, and he turned himself around in circles to show her how he had confused the markings. Smart ranger's familiar, she thought, and she patted him roughly while her eyes darted South, thinking of their next plan. The only familiar she'd met who was that smart was…Karnwyr, Bishop's wolf. He had died with his master in the last Shadow War. She mourned them for that silent moment as she patted her bear in thanks, then turned her back on the bushes, and the memory.

"South, as I thought," she said. "Honus, can you take us through the forest as much as you can, before we meet the path?" He grunted and took off ahead at a trot, which was a funny sight from behind a bear. She went next, and Casavir followed behind. She knew that he was trying not to look at her at all. The magic from the past few nights, plus the discontent in the air the night before all that, left a bittersweet taste for both of them. They could afford neither to unite nor to separate, right now.

"All right, Old Lady," Qara said. "Start explainin'."

Ophala smiled. She knew she didn't look like an old lady, but Qara got a kick out of calling her that, so she allowed it. She was only allowed to be here at all because she made a friend of Qara, and she was enough of a rule-breaker to be a perfect companion (and even mentor) to her.

Yet, the main reason she wanted to come on this quest was to stay near Casavir and Leona. She'd heard rumors first about their heroism; once they died down, the rumors turned to their lovemaking. There weren't enough details to fuel them, since no one knew who had accompanied them on the mission. Most seemed to think Leona had gone alone, though Ophala knew this couldn't be true. Sand was surely with her, which probably meant Safiya was too. And then Gann had confirmed, over the course of many of her dreams, that he was there. Which meant Neeshka was too. There may have been more, for all she knew. She wouldn't have been surprised if Khelgar had gone, for example.

Since there were few details, rumor-mongers had to start making them up. Soon, Casavir and Leona had acquired gifts of sirens, seducing any who looked upon them. She'd heard that when they made love, stars turned to meteors in the sky. According to recent legend, they had started orgies, turned straight people gay, aided fertility. They had visited Gods, seduced Gods, become Gods. She heard that they knew secrets so valuable that men would – and had – turned over their life fortunes just to hear them.

She heard from people who claimed to have slept with them, paying thousands of gold pieces for the privilege. She heard from people who claimed to have caught glimpses of them through windows. If you could dream it, someone had claimed it. And many, many people were dreaming of what they could get from the two now-famous lovers.

She came because word had spread. She spread word right back that they were under her protection, and causing them harm equated to causing her harm. This was no empty threat: Ophala had already disabled two plots against them, that they didn't even know about. The men and women responsible had been publically punished, and humiliated for all to see and hear. But there were bigger plots afoot, and Ophala would step in front of them whenever she could.

Was this for her gain? Of course. She was the only one they might eventually confide in, if at all. But it was, overall, to honor an old flame. She had never loved Casavir in a heart-felt way, but she had relied on him. And he was one of just a few men she could thank for her current success. He bore a great, great price because of her; his life was ruined when he killed Horatio. She felt she owed him, many times over. If she gained currency – in gold or information – from her loyalty, all the better.

"C'mon, Old Lady…going deaf already?"

Ophala teleported away, and reappeared five paces ahead. She turned her head back coyly to Qara. "What was that, Baby Girl?"

Qara threw her head back and laughed, which was rare for her since rage always seemed too far upfront to let other emotions through. "So you gonna tell us what's up now?"

They weren't alone; Ophala said all spellcasters should come. Safiya, Sand, and Gann walked a few steps behind, with Daeghun the ranger. If anyone could track Leona, it was her foster father. She hated to burden him with the news, but knew he, like most adventurers, would rather feel useful than be left behind with nothing to occupy his time but worry.

"I will admit to you: I put locator spells on their weapons."

"Ophala," said Sand, "that is a great invasion of privacy." Daeghun frowned, but was clearly trying to reserve judgment until she explained herself.

"The main reason I'm on this mission at all is to protect them. They are in danger from those who would know their secrets."

Daeghun said, "They do not know this?"

"They do not."

"Did you think Casavir would go rogue?"

Ophala paused. "To tell the truth, I hadn't thought of that, no. My company was purely for protection, in case they were in danger."

Sand rolled his eyes with great theatrics. "Oh Ophala, you are such a kind heart. How very considerate you are, taking care of such an influential and high-ranking couple at no personal gain."

"Believe what you want, Sand. It matters not." She didn't turn around.

Silence, other than footsteps. No one turned around or stopped walking, so Ophala continued.

"I monitor their weapons nightly. Sometimes they are in the compound, sometimes not. None of my business, unless it's two nights in a row, which hadn't happened until three nights ago."

"So?" said Qara. "Maybe the 'legendary lovers'" – she said it mockingly, with quotes in the air – "wanted a little vacation, you know."

"Oh I do, child, I do," Ophala said. "But for leaders like themselves, two days is an awfully long time to be away from their party, especially now. You wouldn't understand child, being a follower like you are." She smirked at her protégé, and Qara pouted.

"Three nights ago, Casavir's weapons were at the edge of the compound. Leona's were also there."

"Voyeur," said Gann.

"You should talk, Dreamwalker." Ophala continued without missing a beat. "Two nights ago, Casavir's weapons were still there, but Leona's were very far outside the compound. Unusual?"

Everyone shrugged, except Safiya, who frowned. She knew how unusual it would be for them to be apart late at night. Not impossible, though. They argued often; maybe the spell just caught them at a combative time. She knew from traveling with her that Leona wandered off into nature when she got mad. Rangers did that; everyone around her got used to it.

Ophala paused for effect, because she was about to drop the most important clue. "Last night, Casavir's weapons were still in the same place, but Leona's were several hundred miles Northwest."

"Now that is significant," said Sand.

"So I started asking around. No one had seen them in a few days."

"Come to think of it," said Qara, "you're right. We sparred fireballs last week and I thought she'd be back for more." Sand raised an eyebrow.

"And then," Ophala said, "Honus disappeared."

Everyone got even more interested. She continued, "Wanna take a wild guess where he wound up?"

"Northwest," said Sand.

"Yep. His magic was easy to track."

No one needed to say that Leona would never go off on her own for this long, with a Crusade of this magnitude approaching. No one needed to say that Casavir would never go anywhere without his weapons – or for that matter, without her. And no one needed to say that for warriors of their caliber to be gone two whole days and nights…it didn't look good, for either of them.

Night came quickly along the path south; Leona, Casavir, and Honus moved off it as far out as they could. Leona could easily find it again, so they didn't need to stay too close. Farther in they found a rock overhang with some tree cover, that served as a sort of shed. This time, hungry and worn out, Casavir dared start a fire while Leona hunted rabbits with the spears. She wasn't in top form as her hand was still swollen from the window-punching, but she managed to get a rabbit, plus Honus scored a few fish. It would do, for one night.

Dinner over and fire dying down, the humans sat on either side of the bear. Casavir murmured into the dying light, "I do wish I could heal your hand."

"Me too," she said. "It hurts a lot. The icy river helped a bit, though."

"My powers might have helped back there in that cabin."

"How? It's not like an undead army was attacking us."

He frowned in the dark. "What, you think that's all I could do? Was turn undead?"

"Well, that and healing were your strong points, I think." He said nothing to that.

Together they watched the ashes die down. Casavir said finally, "I'm going to stay on this side of Honus, tonight."

"Just as well," said Leona, and yawned. She ran her hands through the warm fur, cozying up to her familiar. He was doing the same thing on his side, and their hands connected, and held. Unlike in the cabin, it didn't ignite them; this time, it calmed them.

"I am so very sorry, Leona," he softly said.

"I know," she said. And though she didn't say, "me too," or, "it's all right," she clutched his hand a little harder, and stared the fire down until she fell asleep again.

The spellcasters were up and walking for several hours when Daeghun's sharp eyes spotted movement along the path, far in the distance. "Whoever it is," he said, "they know what they're doing. They're staying away from low ground and moving in bursts. I see three points of movement." He, Gann, and Qara stayed behind while the wizards teleported ahead, again in short bursts. Ophala was about as angry as Qara's default setting: both were ready to shoot fireballs first, and ask questions later.

Leona and Casavir progressed South parallel to but off the path, while Honus circled ahead and back, scanning the periphery. But they were on low ground now, and weren't able to see very far ahead or behind. This worried Leona most of all, so they moved slowly. She knew they wouldn't be seen except by the most expert ranger eyes. Which, if the mages had them, would have seen them re-captured already by now.

When they got a little higher, and the sky got a little darker, they moved closer to the path. They were both hunched over, hungry, and emotionally drained. They were each secretly praying they wouldn't have to fight before they got back; there wasn't a lot of energy left between them. The ordeal wasn't especially draining physically – other than Leona's hand – but mentally, it had been trying. Their argument alone was a lot to think about, and then: what were the repercussions of not being able to touch your lover? Of actively avoiding each other, when locked in together? It threatened their sanity. And they already had so little of it left, after the Shadow Wars, the Manor Prison, the Spirit Eating Curse, and the Wall.

Even so, when they heard the popping sound of wizards teleporting in, they both raised to full attention, spears out. Leona warded them both with what few protection spells she had left, and they instinctively turned back-to-back while she whistled for Honus. It was the first time their bodies touched so much surface area in many days, but neither noticed: survival was on their minds now, and nothing else.

Three wizards appeared at the same time that stunning spells flew from their hands, encircling the lovers in a ring of ice. They were uninjured but trapped, eyes racing around for a way out. They could barely see over the new magic glaciers but could hear Honus growling low from the left. He pounced, and one of the three wizards went down. Leona was jumping up trying to see, and listening with all her might to Honus' cues. What she heard surprised her: friendly, nuzzling sounds. Had these mages put a spell on her familiar?

"Honus, I'm all right." That was Safiya's voice. Leona's mind was awash with confusion. Safiya was here? Honus had knocked her down? Who were the other mages?

"Safiya?" she yelled. "Can you melt this ice?"

"It is you!" The ice melted away and seeped into the grass beyond. "And Casavir, too. Thank the Gods!"

Leona looked around, her eyes returning to focus after the flash of spells and glare from the ice. Ophala and Sand were standing at equal distance around them, only now relaxing their fighting stances. She gathered her wits, and then marched right over to Ophala. "YOU!" she cried. "Who. Did. You. Tell?"

Ophala didn't look threatened in the least. "Tell what, love?"

"Ophala, I just escaped from two days of torture. I am frayed and hungry and magic-ed out from evil mages who knew a few choice things about the Manor Prison. I've had it with your lies. Tell it to me straight, or so help me I'll shove this wooden spear right –"

Casavir's light touch was on her arm, and at once Leona was flooded with emotions at war. The spark from the cabin flared up; her disgust from his touch during their argument returned. Her jealousy at his coming to Ophala's defense rose up, too. And her pride, remembering his logical reasons why Ophala had nothing to do with this, made her fear she might be wrong in her accusation. She froze.

Ophala was clever enough not to acknowledge Casavir right now; she knew Leona was edgy. "I told no one, Leona. I kept your words a secret. My plan was to…I don't want to say anything that…"

"You may speak plainly, Ophala," Casavir said. "Everyone here was with us on the Manor Mission." Leona noticed then that he called it only "The Manor," while she always called it "The Prison." It was both, but their perception was quite different. Almost as if he didn't see it as the torture they all knew it was. It was true; she thought of the way he turned to women upon his return, like a native tongue. Yes, his Native Tongue. Would that change now that they had endured this chaste torture together?

"Nice, Casavir," Leona growled. "Tell her more about the trip that she can use against us."

"Please." Ophala spoke it as pleading, not sarcasm. She seemed not to want to come between them, Leona had to admit. "Think about it, Leona. Why would I blab your secrets all over the place? It wouldn't be to my benefit. And it's not my style to be indiscriminate. With words. Not with words."

That made everyone smile a little, and Leona lowered her spear. She decided not to pursue it – Ophala probably wasn't involved – but she didn't apologize either. She went into Captain mode, and started to strategize with what little brain power she had left.

"There were three mages. They said they'd been friends of yours, and that we would be something you wanted."

Safiya spoke softly. "What did they do to you?"

"They…they locked us in a cabin, with magic like the Prison. We couldn't get out, and…" She didn't have to say anymore: Safiya and Sand had barely tasted the Prison magic, having been only on the boat most of the time. And even they were affected, and understood its power. Safiya sucked in her breath in sympathy. She was never afraid to ask the hard questions. "So you did…"

"No," said Casavir. "We didn't."

Safiya sucked in her breath again. "But how? And how did you escape?"

"I loaned her a fireball, didn't I?" Qara, Gann, and Daeghun had finally caught up with them. Daeghun nodded to his foster daughter and said, with his usual frost, "You are unharmed?"

"Physically, yes. We'll be all right." Daeghun nodded quickly back to her. "Qara, you are exactly right. It was your fireball that saved the day. It broke the door clean off the hinges."

"Hell, yeah!" Qara, visibly proud of herself, threw a fireball clean into the air above them.

"Not smart, sorceress," Safiya said. "They could be looking for us even now."

"Bullshit. We're going for them, aren't we. Let them find us, make it easier for our trackers."

Leona nodded. "They have my weapons." Her bow and sword were special, hand-made items that she received during her spirit-eater days. They were like friends to her, and she would fight with nothing else.

Ophala nodded back. "And I can find them. I'll explain how as we travel." They gathered up their things, and headed back North together. Now, Daeghun could hunt for game, and they were free to light wide fires to cook it. Well-fed and in the company of friends, Leona felt her body unwind a little. But she and Casavir still walked a few paces apart, keeping their distance because they knew they were headed back towards the cabin. They neither of them wanted to come together, except on their own terms.

Leona actually had no problem with Ophala putting the locator spell on the weapons; ironically, it eased her mind. Ophala had been was looking out for them long before she let on, which meant her intentions were genuine. And going back to Casavir's logical assessment of her character, if she wanted to spy on them, she'd just have done so. Knowing the location of their weapons did little harm to anyone. It was actually discreet, which was a pleasant surprise.

Casavir, however, was furious. He saw Ophala's spells as a great invasion of privacy, and a lack of trust. To him, it meant she thought they couldn't take care of themselves. His ire was somewhat absurd given that that's exactly what happened; but his pride was maintained by stressing the fact that they had escaped without anyone's help, and would almost be home by now, anyway. He didn't feel particularly rescued by anybody. In fact, they were in the way of his making amends with Leona. He stayed quiet and talked little, but no one paid much mind because they were used to him brooding while they were all talking. That was a Casavir they had little trouble remembering. The only person who paid him any attention was Gann. He studied him carefully but this time, uncharacteristic of him, he said nothing to his new friend.

Ophala directed them, three nights later, to a small fishing village quite a bit North of where the cabin must have been. Though neither said so, both Leona and Casavir were supremely relieved that they didn't have to visit the cabin again. Even had it been purged of magic, the memory would be painful.

They waited until full dark; then Ophala located the weapons again. They were in an inn at the outskirts of the village. They were at odds how to approach. Qara, of course, wanted to go in with fireballs out in front. Ophala and Gann wanted to enter the inn alone and see if she spotted the "friends," and could outsmart them. The rest outvoted those ideas, suggesting instead that they go knock on the very room where the weapons were located. Ophala would go in front, and everyone else would back her up. They doubted they'd get away without a fight, but you never knew.

She knocked on the door, and a scared young man opened it a creak. "James," she purred, "but aren't you a long way from home." He squealed a little and shut the door. But as Leona had already seen at her own door, Ophala quickly threw her hand in the way, and out-maneuvered the lad. She barged into the room enough so that the others could assemble behind her, and cast a circle of protection around them so she'd have time to assess the layout. Leona's weapons were strewn carelessly in a corner; most of her arrows were gone, but the bow and sword were there.

"May I?" Leona asked.

"Just a moment." Ophala looked carefully towards each of the room's corners, then said, "Go." She went.

How whole she felt, with weapons in hand! Leona indulged a quick inhale-exhale, and then hurried back to the circle with her prizes. Her hand had mostly healed, and she could now grip her sword fully. Simple pleasures, she thought, and winked at Gann as she shouldered her bow.

"Why Leona, dear, I haven't seen that playful face in ages," Gann said.

Casavir scowled at both of them. He felt on unsteady ground, on so many levels.

"Where are they?" Ophala asked of the boy James.

"In th-the p-p-pub."

Ophala nodded, closed the circle, and went over to the boy. "Go home, James. We'll keep this between us and you'll do me a big favor when I get back. Believe me, boy, I'll be on the winning side. You want to do as I say."

"Y-Yes M-m-miss." He ran out the door as fast as if Qara had thrown a fireball at his pants.

"Why'd he call you 'Miss,' Old Lady?" Qara smiled big.

"He's no fool," Ophala said. "Unlike some people in this Inn. I can't wait to find out who." And with that she teleported away, presumably into the inn.

"Okay, now she's just showing off," Qara said, with a pout.

Ophala reappeared just outside the front door to the inn, and entered like a regular patron. It was crowded, and music was playing: a perfect environment for taking out a few men with little consequence. Her quick elf eyes scanned the dark wood-edged room until she spotted her prey: the five men at the back right. They were drunk, and they were edgy. Certainly they knew their charges had escaped. They hadn't planned out that far, and had no idea where to look for them. They probably figured they were as good as dead – they were right – but still wanted to get as far away as possible. And then they couldn't resist drowning their sorrows. Not that Ophala wouldn't have caught them while on the run, but drunk? This was barely a contest. She smiled a smile that was gorgeous but deadly, and headed towards them with purpose.

Of the five men, two of them were obviously muscle-for-hire types; they were negligible because they were so drunk they couldn't hit a tree stump with accuracy. But it was of note that they were both somewhat injured. Did Leona get a few shots in, before losing her weapons? She hoped so.

Of the remaining three – who must be the mages – Ophala recognized two. One was a regular patron of her pub, The Moonstone Mask, but not a Neverwinter citizen; he came through whenever he passed the area, which was often because he had regular business at the docks. Not the upstanding kind of business, either. This didn't make him a bad guy per se; she'd known plenty of thieves who were more loyal than kings. But he didn't strike her as a leader, so her eyes scanned the other two.

The second man she recognized was a noble from Blacklake. He was relatively upstanding, though she'd hardly call herself his "friend" as he did. He came to The Mask often enough on the sly, since he had a family at home, but again, that alone wasn't enough to make her take notice. He did seek Manor Prison rumors, but so did everyone else. Ophala got angry at herself that she couldn't see where she went wrong. Nothing pointed to this man's betrayal.

"Noel," she said as she approached the table. "How lovely to see you in this very obscure, very hidden pub so very close to where my friends were abducted."

He stood up, tipping the mugs on the table a little, but not knocking any over. "Ophala." Clearly he didn't know how to play the encounter: should he pretend nothing was wrong, and deny it? Should he charge her on the spot? His brain was too foggy to decide. He had made it almost too easy for her.

"I must know why, Noel. Was it greed? Or was it personal?"

He sneered at her, ready to dish the truth. "Do you know how many times you rebuffed me personally?"

That's because you're ugly, and even more importantly, you have nothing to offer me. "I rebuff everyone, Noel. I'm the owner."

"That's not what I hear. You've slept with half of Neverwinter. But when it came to me? No, always no."

Ophala felt her anger rise up, and pushed it down so she could concentrate. "So you kidnapped my friends out of petty revenge? That's just plain stupid, Noel. Even for you."

He inched towards her, and she inched back. "If I had the secrets, you'd have wanted to sleep with me. Or at least notice me. And if not, then at least I had something you'd want and would never have. High and mighty Ophala, Queen of the Whores, come up from nothing, and rebuff me? A noble? You don't deserve to piss in my pot!" He spit when he spoke, displaying how hurt was his pride that he wasn't attractive to a woman below him in social standing. He wasn't the first noble to avenge her rebuff. Truth be told, she didn't sleep with nobles much. They were complicated, and expected so much of their women. She shied away from them as a general rule. Casavir, actually, had been her last.

But this time, his petty revenge hurt others. She was angry about that, angrier than she expected to be. Against her own will, Ophala had to admit that spending time with this party made her feel like a woman of higher standing. Adventurers are adored, while she, though revered in some circles, was often reviled by the very people who filled up her bar. Being with Leona and Casavir made her feel like a better woman. She didn't realize this at the time; she only recognized that she was angrier at the insult than she used to be. She teleported out of sight and reappeared behind Noel. Dagger in hand, she slit his throat before he could take another breath to insult her. She kicked him under the table before anyone in the pub could even react to the blood. As she did so the two guard-like men scrambled out of their seats, clumsily, and scampered away. Some guards, she thought. Running away at the first sign of trouble. Guess they'd already been spooked. She let them go, knowing her friends were right outside. Leona would probably recognize them. It was her gift to Leona, in a way. Then she turned, stone-faced, to the other man she knew.

"I wouldn't have thought it of you, Donnie. Not a smart move, yours."

"I know it, Ophala, please, I'll do anything, I just owed him a favor, see, and it was the only –"

She pinned him to the wall with the same dagger, which didn't seem to have the length for it, but managed to cut him through. She pulled it out, and then her other hand appeared, also with dagger, and slit his throat too as he slid to the floor. Again, with such speed that the crowded bar barely missed a beat as the music throbbed through the rooms.

The third mage had been trying to get away as well, but was deadened by the drink, transfixed by the violence, and cornered by the dead bodies that tripped up his feet. He backed into the other corner wall, trying to slide along it in hopes it would both hold him upright and keep him safe. Ophala rolled her eyes. "This is borderline unsatisfying," she said to no one in particular. Then she disappeared again, and reappeared behind him, just as she had with the first man.

"Tsk, tsk," she said, "and you call yourself a mage." She sunk to the floor behind the table with him still wrapped in her arm. He said nothing, but breathed heavy, trying to clear his head enough to come up with something that would save him. Clearly he couldn't summon any spells at the moment.

"How about you to tell me what you did to the cabin, and why," she said. "Then maybe I'll let you live."

"Wards…for protection," he choked out.

"Of course. Don't bore me with the obvious."

"No doors inside, no place to hide from each other."

"Hmm, nice touch. What else?"

"Spells, to…" He paused, ashamed of what he'd done.

"If you can recite the spell, and use it on innocents, surely you can say what it was for."

"They weren't innocent, oh no. The spells were all for sex. Lust and energy together, like alcohol and coffee and inhibition release all at once. If anyone could take it, it'd be them. Not for innocents."

"What made you think of that?"

"Noel, he…he wanted to…"

Ophala dug her dagger in just a bit, to make him hurry up.

"He wanted to…try it on you. He wanted to…humiliate you. Them too. Anyone who had a satisfying…sex life, it seemed to me." The man was on a roll, and she let him roll on. "He hated that he had to pay women to want him. His own wife couldn't stand him, you know. Married him for the money but wouldn't give him the time of day. He tried to overpower her sometimes and she would berate him, laugh at him, until he lost his nerve. He thought all women laughed at him."

"He was wrong," said Ophala. "But there is something between laughing at and being attracted to, no?"

"Anyway, he wanted to get to you, any way he could. Followed you all the way here, picked me and the big boys up on his way. Trying for the ultimate prize, he said." He paused, pleased with himself. "Will you let me live, then?" Ophala felt a momentary pang of regret, but she was a hardened soldier.

"Nope," she said. She slit his throat, and laid him down with the others. Then she stood up and smoothed her dress, and sauntered outside into the cold night air.

Leona watched her wizard friends teleport behind Ophala, but she and the others had to walk around the long way outside the inn and to the pub entrance. There, Sand and Safiya were standing, hesitating. "She's already gone in," Sand said.

"Let's wait here," said Gann. "If she causes a scene, we'll know, and it's probably better if our faces aren't seen, too. You two are all famous now, you know."

They moved back against the wall, shuffling against the cold. A few minutes later, two big men burst out, clearly both tipsy and frightened. "Hey!" said Leona. "I know those guys! They were guarding Casavir when he was –"

The wind took the rest of her words as she ran after them, as did Casavir; but no one else did. There was a certain hierarchy of revenge among adventurers: the person wronged exacted the revenge. If the lovers needed help, their friends would offer it; but not before they got their fill of vengeance. Leona stopped and cocked her arrow into bow. How satisfying it felt, to do this again: it seemed like months that she'd been without it, instead of days. It was like she'd lost and regained a limb.

Casavir kept running when she stopped; he was used to being up-front in the fight. Two arrows at once whistled past his ear, close enough to make his hair float up. "Cutting it a little close, Leona!" he yelled, as he advanced on the man she hadn't brought down.

"Not at all," she said, drawing her sword and running to meet him. "Consider it the kiss I couldn't give you."

Casavir had to admit it was irony: her words made his heart float away, just as he ended another man's heartbeats forever. But it was how they lived. Look at Khelgar, cracking jokes while he cracked other people's bones. She reached him, passed him, and finished off the other man.

The pub being as crowded as it was, people had converged to watch the excitement outside. Some were calling for local lawkeepers to "heel the outlaws," which clearly meant they had to get out of there, and fast. "You both ok?" Gann called.

"Fine," said Leona, when Casavir yelled, "Yes."

"See you there," said Sand. And he and Safiya disappeared into the air, as the other scattered.

Within a few seconds, Ophala strode out of the pub looking as if she'd just had a business meeting: head high, stride long. At closer glance, though, her hair was a bit disheveled, and she had blood stains across the bosom of her dress. It only took one person to notice and give a little shriek, and then everyone outside tried to gather around her. They thought she was injured, and needed aid. "We're fine, go!" Leona called, and with that Ophala dematerialized too, and Leona and Casavir ran like hell until they were completely covered by deep forest trees.

At the meeting point, everyone regrouped: weapons acquired, five troublemakers dead, no wounds. They discussed briefly whether they needed to go to the torturous cabin (no), and whether they needed to deal with the young boy James (no). And Ophala explained their motives as it was told to her.

"Imagine what clumsy, proud nobles would do with such power," Gann said, staring off into the distance as if watching a reenactment.

Ophala shuddered. "Clumsy nobles could have ruined me. And you." She turned to Leona. "I didn't realize even how grave it was. Even you may need guards."

Casavir shook his head. "It was foolish. I left without my weapons."

"Why in the Nine Hells would you do that?" Qara asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Because we were arguing, if you must know."

"And you were taken with your weapons?" Qara gestured to Leona.

"It was separate. He was taken and I tracked them…and failed to finish the job."

"Well, yeah, because mages beat rangers every time."

With that Daeghun conjured a boar so fast it seemed to rise from the wind itself, and it charged at Qara and knocked her down. "Hey!"

"Watch your tongue, child. It could get you hurt." He turned to Leona. "It was foolish to follow on your own, not knowing the odds."

"It was. I saw the tracks and worried about wasting time."

"And here we are, with almost a week wasted."

Leona was used to her father's terse tongue-lashing, and said nothing. He was right, anyway, this time.

She spared a glance for Ophala, who had just killed three men in cold blood and looked none the worse for wear. Bows and arrows, and even swords, lacked the intimacy of daggers. With them, you had to get up close and feel your victim's breath, test their body weight. It was more emotionally intense to use them. What's more, this man had come all the way from Neverwinter to shame her. Ophala had surely been verbally assaulted by this noble, perhaps even in her very own bar. She seemed so proud and in control, but where did she stow all her worry and her pain? Leona felt a moment of pity for her, and then cast it aside. Ophala would hate it, and it would do neither of them any good anyway. They all made their beds that led them right here to this moment. But now, they would work together to make sure this week's horrors weren't repeated. Their goals seemed more common now than before.

Instead of pity, Leona thought to give Ophala an offering of a different sort. She matched her steps to Ophala's, and said in a low voice, "Have you prepared your part of the contract?"

She smiled wryly. "Yes, it seems we both have reason now to keep these secrets of yours very safe. I am sorry that my enemies caused you such agony."

"And I am sorry that my own deeds brought out your enemies. Truth be told, there aren't really any secrets. I don't want you to be disappointed."

"Doubt I could be."

"The Prison is simply ready-made for sins. It is void of anything trying or difficult. The perfect setting, and the perfect magic cocktail, and a few lovely girls…there's really not much more to it."

"I believe you. But no one else will. We need the contract, so the world knows we are allies." She went silent, then, and for several paces neither spoke. Then she said, "You know what I will require. Even now. Moreso, now."

"I know."

"And Casavir? What are his thoughts?"

"Ophala, I'll be frank. I know nothing of his thoughts, about this or anything else. Not anymore. But if I had to guess I'd say he won't be pleased."

Ophala's face turned to grim. "Then good thing we only have to worry about warring with the Gods before we have to deal with him." Then they walked in silence, all the way back to the Academy grounds.

The allies were in a stir over the missing duo, and everyone was thrilled to see them back in one piece. The companions on the rescue mission shooed everyone away until they'd been cleaned up and fed. But after that, the party was clamoring to know if vengeance had been served. When they heard the story from the clean but tired group, everyone was all smiles and thumps on the back; but Kaelyn was notoriously quiet and hung back, studying Casavir intently.

When the welcome died down, she announced above their voices, "I know you are all sick of meetings, but war planning must be done. Let's recover from this sidetrack and meet in three days' time to plan the Crusade, once and for all."

"With respect, angel," said Gann, "this was more than a sidetrack. Two of our own were tortured. Blood of five men were shed." His eyes scanned over the two lovers, both leaders of men. "Will they be recovered in three days' time?"

Casavir gave him a slight nod; he knew exactly what Gann was doing. Gann was observant enough to know that there was trouble among the legendary lovers, and knew they couldn't head for battle unless they sorted themselves out first. It wasn't that Gann was particularly sensitive to others' troubles; quite the opposite. Gann was simply throwing his "official leader" weight around to make sure his team was in order. On any mission of this intensity, each and every member had to be at their emotional and mental best. This Crusade would require more than physical endurance from each of them, to be a success.

Casavir looked at Leona; Leona looked at what seemed to be a very interesting tile in the floor. "Three days will do," she muttered. "We'll be planning, then, not leaving?"

"There has been a…new development. It must be shared with the core group."

"Time to learn to keep secrets, Old Lady," crooned Qara, which earned her a jab in the ribs with Ophala's elbow. The gang broke up, less elated than when they'd gathered. Casavir looked at Leona and said, "I'm going to retrieve my weapons. Like yours, they call for my hands." She nodded, and turned away. Three days is not a lot of time. We have work to do. Then she turned only her shoulders around and called, "Would you like company, or solitude?"

He looked wounded by the question alone. "Company, only if it's yours." They headed to the stables for horses this time, and rode the distance back to the hut.

"I'm not much for redoing memories," Casavir said. "We don't need to stay at the huts."

Leona burst out laughing so quickly she snorted. "You are not one for redoing memories? You can say that with a straight face? After Bishop?"

He realized what she meant, and actually blushed a little, and then smiled a little, and then laughed. A few years ago, Casavir had come to her, in an attempt to replay experiences she had with Bishop. Her eventual union with Casavir took no one by surprise; maybe Bishop would have betrayed them anyway. But they almost lost the war because of that betrayal. Then he changed sides once again to help them – and then he lost his life. His final good deed in life wasn't enough to keep him from the Wall of the Faithless, though. Leona had seen him there, on the Wall, and it was in helping her escape her curse that he too, was released. The story was full of grief, for all three of them.

But Leona realized this must have been the first time they laughed about something having to do with Bishop. It had been three years since he died. And three years later, Leona and Casavir were left – and they were trying desperately to be happy with what was left with them.

"I mean," he said, still smiling, "that we don't need to stay here to make things right."

"What do we need to do?"

"I think that's a question only you can answer. You were the one wronged."

She slowed her horse as they approached. "Yes, but both of us experienced that torturous two days. So we both of us need to take control back."

Casavir dismounted, but she stayed on her horse to await him. Dusk was fast approaching, and Academy students were preparing for evening festivities at the huts. Like most people, the students instinctively stepped out of Casavir's way as he approached. Leona thought how much like the angels Paladins could be: intimidating but inspiring, charismatic yet off-putting. That duality was one of the things she found most fascinating, about both him and others like him.

She heard a clink from behind the hut, and supposed he found the package she'd stowed. He returned with hammer and shield in hand, holding them casually and not in battle-ready position. He attached them to the horse, and then came around to stand by Leona's mount, close, too close.

He said, "All this talk bores me. It boils down to this: what will heal me from that cabin is what has healed me ever since I returned from the Manor. If you can't or won't share that with me, I will never, ever coerce you or force you. Never, Leona. Believe that, and I'm already half-way to healing."

Leona nodded, both understanding and agreeing. She was bored by all this talking too. But they needed to have it, after he had nearly forced her, and after they'd been coerced by a third party. They were strong fighters and strong leaders, and they had a team who would depend on them in a few days. It wasn't just about their fragile emotions; there could not be discord in the ranks, when they stood facing the Wall. The devils would pick it up like radar, and tear them to pieces. Or their fighting skills would be erratic and lead to mistakes, endangering all who stood with them. Nothing good could come of this limbo.

"I need to know," she said, keeping eye contact, "that without your mantle of Paladin, you still have means to self-control. We all must discover our boundaries – or in your case, rediscover them. I believe you are still figuring out where yours are – and no one could blame you for that, Casavir, really." She took a deep breath, praying she wouldn't regret her next words. "I am willing to accompany you on those discoveries. But I already know where my boundaries lie. So if you find yours extend a little farther – and you may – I must believe you will respect that difference."

"You have my word."

"You of all people know how hard it is to keep it. I do believe you are honorable, still." She put her hand on his rough cheek, thinking that never, when he was Paladin, was his cheek ever rough.

He said nothing but nodded. True men and women of honor didn't have to insist upon truth of their words.

She said, "Do you want to go into this hut, or head back?"

He turned away briskly. "This hut is occupied. Let's find another."

Leona examined the area. "I don't think it's occupied, no. Did you see someone inside?"

"Ghosts," he said, his back still turned. He led his horse three huts down and dismounted, tying the mare to the hitch.

"Ah. I see you're not much for redoing memories," she said with a smirk.

Leona and Casavir entered the hut, locked the door, and then came together on their own terms. They were not coerced by magic or each other; they were not resisting or guilt-ridden. They were nothing more and nothing less than two people in love, who had been held apart for longer than was fair.

At noon the next day, the Great Hall filled with the nineteen adventurers belonging to the Crusade. They were to meet in the Hall – which was closed to the Academy today – because Okku and Honus were also there. Normally Okku declined talk of strategy – he found it tiresome after millennia as the bear king – and Leona's bear Honus didn't talk at all. But today Kaelyn had insisted that everyone be in full attendance. She and Fia sat at the head of a loosely circular group of seats. There was no table, so all could move freely; in fact, it was obviously impossible to tell who was at the head of the round shape. But Kaelyn and Fia were there first, and farthest from the main doors. Zhjaeve, also a cleric, was already seated next to them, going over some cleric-related details with Kaelyn.

The bards Deekin and Grobnar were the first to arrive, two small but essential figures in any group battle. Most of their work was done before the battle started, protecting the fighters and keeping them armed with magic throughout a fight. Having each other as companions, they were almost constantly occupied with swapping legends, spells, and songs.

Most of the couples came next: Khelgar and Grizelda, the dwarf fighters; the wizards Sand and Safiya; and shaman Gann with thief Neeshka. Leona's stepfather Daeghun and his new love Ellanee (the only druid present) were next, followed by Ophala with Qara in tow. They were practically a couple themselves, with the way Qara clung to her new mentor; this was a surprise to all, since Qara was a notorious loner, and notoriously difficult to get along with.

Among the assembled group, they had just about every skill covered: some were archers, some swordsmen. Some used offensive spells, some used defensive ones, and some healed others. Kaelyn found herself grateful, in fact, that they'd had to battle the Drow down in the cave. It seemed like so long ago, now. But it was important, because it showed they could work together. They would need to call on that knowledge now more than ever in the days to come.

Leona and Casavir were purposely the last to enter; they were quite late, which was rare for them. It was also rare for them to display affection, and they did not do so now; but they did walk almost shoulder to shoulder, and it was clear there was no animosity between them. They wanted to make an entrance together, and in harmony, to show that their relationship had been patched. It was a show of good faith to their fellow would-be-fighters, that they would not endanger them because of their internal squabbles.

To a man, everyone found their entrance quite heroic indeed. After the Manor Prison, the party did each assume they had somewhat of a charmed relationship. They assumed the lovers were overflowing with intimacy, after the nature of their ordeal; and gratitude, after finding each other alive. Their lives seemed positively charmed, from the outside. Who gets to reclaim a lost lover? Who gets to enter, at will, a sex prison with one's partner? Who gets a fresh start? They were lucky to no end, and everyone around them forgot all else.

It was only after this abduction that all realized how much anxiety, how much angst the couple must have – especially after Casavir's Falling from Grace. Their troubles must be immense; to put these troubles aside, and show a united front to their friends, displayed great courage. Everyone had been seated and chatting quietly, glancing around in an unsettled way for two important members of their team. When they finally arrived, which such an unusual show of unity, the party lifted their heads in pride, to show their appreciation.

The couple took two empty places around the misshapen circle, and waited for Kaelyn to speak.

"My grandfather paid Fia and myself a visit." At this, Gann raised an eyebrow, but everyone else looked even more shocked than he. He wasn't surprised in the least; instead, he gave her a silent message that his suspicions were confirmed. That one raised eyebrow seemed to say, I told you so.

"Safiya was also there – the meeting took place in her office." Kaelyn chuckled. "To her credit, she was truly trying to keep him from seeing us. She showed great bravery that day."

"How long ago was this?" Leona asked. Days had run together for her since she and Casavir were taken, and she was trying to gauge how old this news was. Everyone else was as shocked as she was, so clearly Kaelyn had kept this to herself for a reason.

"About five days."

Qara, looking at her most bratty, said, "And why didn't you tell us then?"

Kaelyn turned her posture to level her gaze at the young sorceress. Qara had been insolent with her before and paid the price when they first met. Now, she had to appreciate the girl's bravery, if not her tone. Kaelyn no longer needed to reinforce her rank. Instead she simply said, "Because, he came not as my grandfather, but as a messenger from the Gods. The message was for me and me alone."

Leona nodded slightly, her internal question answered. But Qara pouted. "How come Safiya got to hear it."

Safiya leaned over to Sand and muttered in her lowest voice, "You spent over a year traveling with her? My condolences."

Sand rolled his eyes. "You have no idea, Safiya. No. Idea."

"And now," Kaelyn said, "the rest of you will get to hear it too." Well, most of it, anyway, for now.

She took a deep breath, trying to recite what she'd prepared to say, in the right order. "My grandfather was sent from the Gray Alliance to show support for our Crusade."

At that, only a few reacted: Okku was the first. He had been alive when the Gray Alliance was formed, and remembered them well. The students of history in the group also reacted: Safiya (whose eyes widened large), the bards (who both grabbed their instruments at once), and Casavir (who stood up, as was his custom when he was emotional about news). Everyone else just looked blankly at Kaelyn. For all they knew, the Gray Alliance was a bunch of drab, half-rate warriors.

Okku's rumbling voice shook the cavern. "You have proof of this?"

"I do."

Qara was not appeased. "Can someone please explain what's going on, to the people under like, 500 years old here?"

Sand whispered up to the standing Safiya, "Guess school is truly good for something, hmmm?"

"The Time of Troubles," Okku said, "was when, centuries ago, Gods were at war with each other, and forced to walk the earth as mortals."

Qara rolled her eyes. "Everybody knows that much."

"Then what you don't know," Kaelyn said, "is that the Gods formed Alliances to stay alive during that time. Each was named after a color, and the color correlated closely with what they stood for."

"And the Gray is what? Poor fashion sense?"

"Think, child. Free will. These Gods fought their very destinies, to make their choices their own. And ours."

There were many murmurs throughout the Hall. Someone said, "So they were the good guys?" Someone else said, "And they have supported us?" Another: "Which Gods are they?"

"I can answer these questions," Kaelyn said loudly, as the party reluctantly settled down. "First, we do not know which Gods they are, and no one knew even then. Am I wrong, Okku?"

"You are not. The Gray Alliance especially was quite secretive." I can imagine why, thought Leona. Gods and freedom seem like oil and water.

"Second. When Gods support a mission – which I might add, is extremely rare – they do so by offering one or more gifts. The gifts are unmistakable, irreplaceable, and unique. The gifts correspond to the nature and strength of the support."

"How many gifts did we get?" Qara asked. She was clever enough to read into Kaelyn's wording, and seemed to be hoping they all might get new weapons or something equally glamorous.

Kaelyn's eyes fixed on Casavir, who had just sat back down. She said, "One."

With that, she produced the trunk, and she and Fia opened it in front of the group. She pulled out the scroll, touching it for only the second time. "This," she said, as she held up the back edge, "is the Gray Alliance Seal."

Okku bounded up to get a closer look, and confirmed it. "This is a great honor, Kaelyn-Dove. Your mission has been deemed very worthy indeed."

"It is all of us doing our part that has brought us to this day," said Kaelyn. "But it does seem that some Gods want to see the Wall fall. This scroll will be invaluable to our cause."

"What does it say?" This was Grobnar the Bard talking, with fingers practically twitching to make the scroll's words into a song.

Kaelyn read the words aloud, and then said, "This is clearly a riddle. I called this meeting because we must decipher it before heading through the portal." Silence came back at her, and then a little shuffling of boots. Clearly no one had any idea what it meant. Then everyone started talking at once.

"If we break it down into parts –"

"Maybe it's the best we can aspire to-"

"–tells us what Gods are behind us, if we can just –"

"We just need to find a sentient animal guide. It says so right there. Maybe Gann can-"

The chaotic chatter was interrupted by a small, somewhat polite fireball exploding directly overhead, like a sweet firework. It was Qara's softest touch, her equivalent of saying, "Ahem." The chatter died down, and everyone looked at her, ready to indulge against their will like one does a child during a tantrum.

Qara looked as bored as most of the Academy students during their required lessons. "I mean, obviously it's a Checklist. Let's check it off already and be done with it."

Everyone turned to her in absolute shock. She mirrored shock back to them all. "You're telling me no one thought of that. Really. What did you think it was? A bloody poem? What's wrong with you people? I thought you were master strategists."

They all looked it over again, and then back at her. "Seriously. One animal sentient and one familiar? People. Listen. We have two bears in this very room. You mean to tell me you didn't connect the freaking dots?"

Kaelyn looked at the scroll, then back to Qara, then back at the scroll. Then she burst out with triumphant laughter, then came to Qara with open arms, for a giant warrior-sized hug. Everyone cheered for her cleverness and slapped her back as if they were in a pub. Qara let herself be touched, which usually she despised, and then just muttered, "Did the Gods have to spell it out for you? Really." But secretly, she was pleased. Leona saw the corners of Qara's mouth edging up, seemingly against her own will.

The party assumed that the scroll listed necessary conditions for defeating the Wall: a formula or recipe of sorts. For some reasons the Gods found these qualities important. They crossed off what they knew they already had, which was painfully little. The two bears were easy, as was free will, which they had in spades. They could almost certainly check off "four planes," as they had the Neverwinter and Rashemen groups, as well as Gann's dream-plane, Okku's kingship, and the angels. But the rest was terribly nebulous. There were several sets of lovers in the group, but none of them were particularly unlikely. And what was, really, the difference between allies and friends?

"The question is," Leona said, "whether these are things we need to acquire, or things we already have. Maybe the scroll is just underscoring the support for our group."

"If not," said Gann, with his usual amused expression, we'll have to go out and find ourselves a set of unlikely lovers. I relish the task."

"Whatever the hell that means," Neeshka said. She punched Casavir in the arm; he was used to it, and never flinched, but she was determined to catch him off guard one of these days. "I can tell you for sure that this man and myself, we are unlikely friends."

Casavir smiled his small smile. "This is true," he said. "Someday perhaps I will punch you in the arm, and knock you across the room, little demon."

"And I," said Gann, "will then get to punch you as well, for calling My Little Demon by a pet name."

Qara rolled her eyes and stepped away from them and towards the bears, juggling white fireballs. "This whole group is unlikely. We didn't need a freaking scroll to tell us that. Bor-ing."

They spent a few more minutes interviewing each other for clues. Were the two bards secret (and unlikely) lovers? Who could join their party who would also have faith in bitterness? Does anyone actually believe in bitterness? Had anyone turned down money for an act of love? "Don't ask me – not in this lifetime," said Gann.

"Reason number one zillion our affair ended quickly," Leona whispered to Casavir. He let out a surprise chuckle and covered his mouth with a cough. For as long as they'd been together and all they'd been through, they rarely had ease with each other. How ironic, and how puzzling, that facing death and mystery like never before, it would come now for them.

Before long it was clear they were all spinning wheels to no avail. Casavir and Leona exchanged glances; then Leona sidled up to Kaelyn and said, "I can't get past the feeling that the Gods wouldn't want to make more work for us. Why would we spend time searching for unlikely lovers when we could be training or gathering forces?"

"Because," said Sand, ever the scholar and ever-hearing with his elf ears, "Most likely, the way to defeat this Wall isn't with force. Maybe it's with ideas. Or the right mix of souls. Or maybe in the search for these items, we will find a weapon that will do more damage than any army. Leona, gathering forces is a waste of time, hmmm?"

She looked skeptical, but he continued. "Come on, Leona. You have met Kelemvor. You know what Gods can do. He could send us all away with a swipe of his supernatural hand. He could just as easily sweep away an army of thousands as you alone. Numbers and skill matter not."
They thought on what Sand had said, and Leona tended to agree with him, but something still seemed wrong to Casavir. Next to Okku and the angels, he knew Gods better than anyone in the room. Whether he was a Paladin or a regular man, he was still the only mortal who understood the Gods.

"Sand is right, to a point," he said. "Weapons matter not. But it is custom that before the Gods challenge, they inspire. It's odd that they wouldn't add a gift of encouragement to this confusing scroll. They want us to succeed. We should feel championed, and we don't. Look around."

Kaelyn stayed silent, but didn't look around. Instead she studied him carefully, as if weighing his face more than his words.

He looked at her squarely and said, "Are you sure there was nothing else in the trunk?"

She stared at him again, measuring. Angels, as a general rule, aren't caught off guard by mortals. While a mortal might have shuffled her feet or looked away, Kaelyn did not. Her hesitation was not discomfort, but indecision. She glanced around at who was within earshot; it was only Casavir, Leona, and Sand. These were some of the most discreet and trustworthy of the group. Her eyes slid back to level at Casavir's steady glance. She said, "There was. But it was a gift for only one of the party. And I am not ready to divulge it."

Her companions all nodded slightly, respecting her privacy. These rituals were foreign to them, and they trusted Kaelyn's judgment. But Casavir frowned. He was thinking strategically, on a deeper level than the others, and needed more from her.

"Kaelyn, forgive me, but I must push you on this. Is your secrecy a matter of morale, or timing?" His direct question implied that there could be no other motive, besides the two he offered.

"I will be frank, Paladin. I do not know if this gift will increase morale."

"Why not?"

"Because I do not know if the recipient will accept it." She was very serious, now, as she watched his reaction. "So I guess you could say it is a matter of timing, then."

Casavir narrowed his eyes. Leona watched as something passed between them, some knowledge she had no access to. He said, "You are correct." But it wasn't clear, exactly, which part he was validating: Kaelyn's holding back, or that the gift would be rejected. Kaelyn seemed to think it was both, and she nodded, and gathered up the scroll and the trunk. Without another word, she turned towards Fia, and, also silent, Casavir walked towards Gann.

A week passed with no headway on the scroll. They each had copies of the list, and Leona had posted theirs in their chamber, next to the window to the courtyard. "I worry," she said aloud, to no one in particular, because no one was there. Casavir was below, sparring with the wizards using staffs. She could see him down there, smaller than her finger from so far away. This is how vulnerable they would be to the Gods. It was a fool's errand, indeed.

But that wasn't why she worried; if any group could manage this, it was hers. No, she worried, because of Faith in Bitterness. The line above it read Kindness in Fear. She pulled up her leather boots and ran outside, to join the tiny, vulnerable people out her window and far away.

In the far courtyard, Casavir was holding a staff and fending off Sand, Safiya, Ophala, and Qara all at once. They were attacking in random sets of two; no one was speaking. The only sound was the blunt clink of wood hitting wood, when staffs met. He was wearing light armor; they were hitting hard.

Leona made it to the area and then bent over, catching her breath. She'd run too far too fast, which normally wasn't a problem for a ranger used to long distances. But there was emotion stealing her breath too. "Faith in Bitterness," she said between pants.

Ophala cocked her head and put her staff vertical, to signal a pause. "Have you a clue, Leona?"

Leona, finally vertical herself, grabbed an extra staff. "Let me borrow Casavir for a minute." The other three walked off to a safe distance, though she knew Sand would still be able to hear. From this far away she could clearly hear Qara shout, "What the HELL?" to the air, angry at the interruption.

She put her staff up and leaned in. "Faith in Bitterness," she repeated.

Casavir moved in for the attack. She noticed he had shed the light armor for her. "Not feeling too threatened by me today, are you?"

He said nothing, but kept his mind – and hers – on the mock duel.

When she caught her breath again she said, "The line above it is Kindness in Fear. We are looking in the wrong place for Faith."

Still he said nothing, keeping the wooden hits just close enough to graze, but not injure. In this medium he outclassed her, which she hoped would give him space to think.

"Kindness in Fear means 'in the midst of,' not 'into.' Faith in Bitterness means Faith in the midst of Bitterness."

He pulled his staff in just before clocking her on the side of the head. "And?"

"Everyone thought it meant someone who had faith in the concept of bitterness, which is absurd. What we need is someone who had Faith while experiencing bitterness." To her this was a revelation – no one had yet mentioned this line of thinking. Yet he did not seem surprised.

"And why haven't you shared this with the group?"

"Because I wanted to…" She lost her train of thought as she barely blocked a sweeping blow to the legs. "I think you are…" Block again. He was much more aggressive with her today. "I think it means you."

"It does." He swung wide again, knocked her over, and in one more graceful move, disarmed her by knocking her pole at an awkward angle when she lost her grip. He held his staff against her throat, as if ready for a killing blow.

Leona's face wore the same expression as that first night in the hut: she feared her lover in that instant. But she tried to shake it off and repeated his words. "Then why haven't you shared this with the group?"

Casavir backed off, then stuck out his left arm to help her up. "Because I am still too bitter to have Faith."

In that moment, Leona felt all the emotions he must have. At the top of the list would be the sense of urgency: that he might let the whole group down, if he did not acquire what he needed. He was surely angry at himself for his inability to find his Faith. And he was also surely angry at the Gods for making this, of all things, a requirement for success. He shared little, but she knew this much: Casavir expected he would find Faith again someday, even without his mark of Paladin. But now, he had to rush. His battle with being Faithless was now everyone's battle. How ironically fitting, that he had to find Faith to save the other Faithless. How he must have hated that, down to his bones.

She took his arm and lifted up. When she was standing she said only, "The Gods would not have placed it on the scroll if they thought it impossible."

Casavir twirled his staff, absent-minded yet intense. "Yet we've learned, haven't we, that the Gods know far less than we expect them to."

Another week had passed, and no one had come any closer to deciphering the scroll. Instead of having another drawn-out meeting with antsy warriors, Kaelyn decided it was time for decision-makers to make decisions. In her mind, this included herself, Leona, and Gann: All three were leaders of Crusades against the Wall. They planned to meet in one of the huts on the outskirts – like the ones Leona and Casavir had used – in one more week.

Leona only had one idea left: to speak to the librarian who'd told her all about the Fallen Paladin. Kaelyn had given her permission, although as a general rule they discussed the Scroll with no one outside the Party. Safiya, the only one with knowledge of the Academy Compound, assured them the librarian could keep secrets. And Leona asked Qara to tag along, because he knew her now, and seemed to find her endearing, against all odds.

They showed him the scroll, and he was silent for a long time. His small glasses even slid down the bridge of his nose, making him look even more scholarly than usual. Before coming in, the ladies had agreed they wouldn't prompt him in any way: they wanted to see his reaction first.

The librarian muttered to himself. "The way the Gods work, yes They do…give and take, give and take…take and give, yes They do…" Finally, right when Qara looked like she was about to burst, The Librarian said, "Well, I can tell you this: the Gods take before They give. The first series is what you must supply, and later on, what They will supply. You could take this to mean you are guaranteed safe passage, if you complete your part of the bargain, yes you must."

Qara looked forlorn. "I think Free Will is the only thing we can offer, and that's at the end."

"Oh no, dear, Free Will is your reward. That's your purpose, is it not?"

"Great," said Qara. "We'll get three Free Wills for all this shit. Sounds fair to me."

The others ignored her. A pattern was taking shape, the more Leona stared at the list. Of course the spaces meant as much as the letters – there was a reason the list was separated out that way. What stood in the middle of it all, though, was this "thrice" requirement.

"What does 'thrice trial and reunion' mean?"

"That I do know, yes I do. I only know of them myself because I am part of an oral tradition of timekeepers. I'm the oldest librarian alive, yes I am. As was my father before me, and grandfather before him. My father was born before Kelemvor was in power, oh yes. And he was forbidden to speak of the Trials, yes he was. But he wrote of them to me, oh yes. And I am not forbidden to speak of them to you."

"Too damn lucky we found you," said Qara.

"Not at all, dear, not at all. The Gods know what they're doing. This is the Gray Alliance, oh yes. They together are the most powerful thing going, yes They are.

Anyway, the Trials. Only been attempted four times that I know of, only four. Four times in forever isn't very much, no it isn't."

"Let me guess," said Qara. "One hero, three trials. Sign me up."

"Oh no, dear. No, no. Three individuals, one trial each. To survive is to pass the trial, yes."

"Well, like I said, sign me up."

The librarian took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "One trial each, in the Hells."

Leona figured her eyes must have gotten as big as Qara's did. "In the HELLS? We have to go through Hell, literally?"

"Yes, yes you will. Or, perhaps, spend equivalent time on the Wall. One of the four previous times was like that, sad, yes."

"Been there, done that," said Leona.

"No, Spirit-Eater, not really. I am talking about your whole being now, not just a piece. You would reside there, in full, for the duration of the Trial."

No one said anything for a while. They just stood there together, staring at the Scroll that held their fate. Leona had so many questions: why hadn't Kaelyn known of this, if it was the only way to break the Wall down? Who would volunteer? How long would the Trial last? How could she survive time on the Wall, when she could barely watch others on it? But how could she not volunteer, as the former leader of a Crusade?

As if Qara read her mind, she said, "I changed my mind. I don't volunteer anymore."

The ladies and the librarian sought out journals, accounts, or tales of the Trials, but there was nothing. Even the local bards had never heard of them, said the Librarian. "The Gods surely erased all records," said the Librarian. "They certainly don't want to encourage uprisings, no They don't."

Leona tried to stay on task. "How many times have the three volunteers succeeded?"

The librarian put his glasses back on, and raised his bushy eyebrows. "Well, uh, once of the four, yes, once. But even then, only two of three passed, so the group failed."

"So you're telling us," said Leona, doing the math, "that of the twelve people who have attempted this, only two have passed – and even then, it was moot?"

"Yes, yes it was." The librarian clearly hated bearing bad news. "We only know why two of the Trials were attempted. The first two, well, they were so long ago that detailed records were never kept, no they weren't."

"And the other two?" Leona, though fearful of course, was now in full strategy mode. They were going anyway, no matter the risk. The more they planned, the more likely they'd be the first party to survive and succeed.

"The third Trial was the one where two survived. They were followers of a demi-God and sought to promote him to full God. Their mission did not succeed as such, but long after their deaths the demi-God was promoted anyway. Shame, yes it was, they didn't get to see it in their lifetimes."

"And the fourth?"

"The last Trial – still centuries ago, you understand – involved changing the celebration day of a God. The Crusaders no longer wanted sacrifice as a part of the devotion. They failed, yes they did. And again, eventually the God changed his mind and let go of sacrifice, because He was losing followers, yes He was."

"So basically," said Qara, "instead of doing the Trial, we could just wait a few hundred years, and maybe the Gods will come around. Assholes."

"Yes dear, anytime mortals want to meddle in the affairs of Gods, they must face the Trials, yes. There's a reason we mortals are mortals, and the Gods are Gods. They like it to stay that way, yes They do."

Over the week, Leona talked at length with Okku the Bear – which meant mostly she talked, and he grunted and occasionally answered. She wanted to know if he had heard of the Three Trials, and helped him comb his vast memory for any mention of such tasks.

"I've slept for centuries," he said. "And when I was with the living, I rarely came upon mortals. Their squabbles with Gods don't affect me in the least."

Leona nodded, disappointed. It was too good to be true that Okku might know details, but it was worth asking. He did, however, remember the way that clan-bears took on their Gods, or took on him. "There was a protocol," he said. "It's been long since I've ruled, child. But for certain, any proud mortal has to overcome both physical and mental challenges. I wouldn't be surprised if, for humans, this includes emotional torture."

She nodded again, trying not to display her unease. She certainly didn't feel at her emotional best; but, probably, one never does. She wished she could be more like Gann, unconcerned with the emotional storms that tripped up everyone else. He'll be the perfect volunteer for these Trials, she thought. And surely he'll volunteer. Cassavir, however, wouldn't be the best choice. He's too unsettled as it is.

"You are afraid." Okku sniffed, as if he could smell her fear. Probably, he could.

"I am. I'm afraid I'll let them all down, Okku. Gann and Kaelyn are made of sterner stuff than I am. I see them flying through the Trials, and me losing the whole thing."

Okku made no sound for several seconds. Leona could hear his heavy breath, and she leaned into him for comfort. Then he said, "The Gods will surely grade the Trials to the individual."

"Meaning?"

"Trials are individualized. You will be pushed to your limits, as will they. Doesn't matter where the limits are."

She said nothing, but tensed, and he felt it. "When in Hell, you are still you. Try to be nothing else but Leona Amithrada. Make decisions only she would make. You know what to do: be yourself."

She sighed. This was the most Okku had spoken in weeks, and still it didn't comfort her much.

"Think of it this way. Have you ever been lost? I doubt it."

"Only once. It was a magic maze."

"Hell is not a maze. It's a jungle. All you have to do is stay alive and be genuine."

"Oh-kay."

"I mean to say, when torture is mental, you have to be genuine. Because nothing is as it seems. And you treat it like a jungle. For you, ranger, this should not be hard. Do not fear."

"That doesn't make me feel a whole lot better, Okku."

"You are a mortal trying to break down a divine structure. There's nothing on all the planes that could make you feel better, now."

A week later, Leona felt no more ready for her meeting with Kaelyn and Gann, but the time had come. She left early on a horse, and did a little hunting in the evening air. She also popped in to the temples of the Gods as she had last time, making small but heart-felt offerings in hopes of guidance. None came, but she knew by now that the Gods rarely indulged impatient humans seeking aid.

In the hut, Kaelyn explained that she felt they'd waited long enough. Even though the list wasn't complete, she felt they were putting too much effort in the wrong places. They needed to act, and soon, before they lost momentum. The scroll was not a contract, and they weren't bound to fulfill it.

Besides, they didn't even know how to fulfill it. Maybe that wasn't the point at all. Leona recounted what Okku said, and they agreed the three of them would be the obvious choice for volunteers – just in case.

What's more, the group was getting restless. Qara, who admittedly tended to exaggerate, was threatening to leave the mission if they didn't see some action soon. Short of opening the portal again to gauge what the devils were up to, there wasn't much left to do but enter the portal towards the Wall, or continue the search for invisible clues.

Leona was firmly against launching the Crusade. She didn't say exactly why: that she knew Casavir wasn't ready to fulfill his portion of the scroll. She tried not to think about that; most of the rest of it wasn't fulfilled either.

But if the librarian was right, they needed to complete their part of the scroll to receive Safe Passage. This was clearly a list of requirements. The Trials would be life-threatening, to say the least. In case they failed, Safe Passage would be necessary. It seemed unwise to rush into this, when they'd waited this long. And they should think of training for the Trials, strengthening their wills and mental energy.

Anyway, were there not other options? Could they call Kaelyn's grandfather back, get more details, research the Gray Alliance somehow?

Kaelyn was determined. She insisted they must leave soon.

With the two women resolute on opposite sides, they turned to Gann. He was the leader of this mission, as it was his idea and his schedule from the beginning. It was ultimately his decision what they would do next. One of them would be disappointed, perhaps angry even. But they would follow his lead, whatever he decided. Leona crossed her fingers and looked at Gann. He always acted nonchalant; he looked now as if he was deciding what to have for lunch, and not the fate of millions. She knew what he was like under that exterior; though to be fair, most of that nonchalance was completely real. Gann really was laid-back, and what often mattered much to others mattered little to him. But he began this Crusade himself, because the Wall had affected him too. What happened next carried weight with him, she knew that. He wouldn't take the decision lightly.

She also knew he would make the decision now. If it had been her, she would have slept on it overnight, maybe consulted or prayed. Gann had never led men on missions. He had none of that baggage, and was certain of every move he made. In a few minutes, their fate would be decided, and he wouldn't look back.

Gann closed his eyes, and turned his head back and forth between them as if listening to them talk – but no one was saying anything anymore. She'd seen this before, along previous journeys. Was he replaying arguments, consulting spirit animals, jumping in and out of dreams for answers? He could do all of this with ease, and maybe he was. While they waited, Leona and Kaelyn avoided each other's eyes. They were friends, but on this they disagreed greatly, and they were both leaders and both used to getting their way. While Leona's head was turned, she felt Kaelyn's hand clutch hers. She turned to look, and saw her friend's face, steely yet empathetic. Leona squeezed her hand tight and pasted on a bittersweet smile.

Gann opened his eyes and took a deep breath of relief. He looked up above their heads as if listening to something taller than their sitting bodies. And, being a Shaman, maybe he was.

"We go."

News traveled fast – just the party wanted it – that tomorrow Crusaders would lay siege to the Wall of the Faithless. They didn't give a time because time didn't matter in the City of Judgment, where they were headed. And they didn't say how they were getting there, either. In truth, they didn't actually know. Anyone could get to the Supplicants' Gate, where they'd met Kaelyn's grandfather weeks ago. Tomorrow the many opponents of the Wall would stream in. It would be an official day of protest across the lands. But at the Wall, it was a different story. It was heavily guarded and warded, as they well remembered from their other trips to it. How would they get to it? How would they dismantle it, if they did? They had no answers, they realized, now that they were up against it in truth.

"How embarrassing would it be," said Qara, "if we go to all this trouble, and can't get past the Gates?"

"I have a funny feeling they'll let us walk right in," said Gann.

He was right.

As the party approached the Supplicants' Gate, they were surprised to find Fierentila, Kaelyn's grandfather, waiting for them, with his customary two guards. How much the same this scene is, thought Leona, and yet how different we all are. Fia is with us, and so are some of the Gods, it seems. Though that was now debatable, since they hadn't figured out the Gods' message before coming. But there was, quite literally, no turning back, now: there were throngs of protesters behind them, and they could go nowhere but forward.

Fierentila had his usual stoic face on. The party approached, with Leona, Gann, and Kaelyn in the first line and the rest behind in a second line. They weren't marching in step or anything so refined; it would never have worked with this varied crowd, anyway. But there was something unified about them. They each remembered being here before, and the terror they faced at the Wall. And those in that first row knew Fierentila felt it, too, though his face surely didn't show it.

"Granddaughter." That the angel spoke first was a very good sign indeed.

"Grandfather."

"We are to open the Gates for you this day." Kaelyn nodded as if she'd expected this, but inside she was full of relief. The only person who didn't have to feign boredom was Gann, who fully expected they'd be welcome. They were in the company of Gods, now. Leaving them stranded at the Wall, or making a scene in front of it, would be bad form. Even the Gods had to save face, regardless of which side they were on in this war.

The Gates opened smoothly; though, for the size of them, they looked to Leona like they should open with creaks and bumps. Kaelyn was about to step forward into the beyond, only focused on what might be ahead, when her grandfather grabbed her arm. "It will not be like the last time I let you in."

"How?"

"The Hells. They are angry."

Ah, so the devils would come to defend their greed. Casavir was right when he said this Wall was more than their share. But now that they've had all the souls in Hell and all these souls to torture, who could expect them to give up without a fight?

Kaelyn looked squarely at her grandfather. She dropped the terse warrior-speak and said, still in his grip, "Thank you."

He looked forlorn. "There is hope for you, Kaelyn the Dove."

"I may not follow in your wake but I learned well from you. I remember still your tales and I take them to heart."

"May Your Enemies Fear Your Approach."

At that, Gann raised an eyebrow, and Kaelyn looked as if she'd seen the Gods themselves. To Leona, the words sounded pretty and inspiring, but she imagined there must be more to them. There was a formality to them, a blessing. Maybe even a hint of pride. Leona knew first-hand how hard it was to earn pride from role models – especially once-generation removed males, who were already set in their ways. She could count on one hand the praise she'd received from Daeghun.

Whatever it was, Kaelyn seemed to stand taller as she led the second row through the gates. She would need all her height, for as they came through the Gates, they faced an army of hundreds of undead soldiers, straight from the Hells.

Not all undead are slow-moving, but these were: there was no rush, as the party would have to come through them to get to the Wall. Leona could just make out its edge over the hill ahead. Given the wards around them, she was feeling in no rush to get there, either. No one attacked. Both sides just stood there, waiting.

Kaelyn called Zhjaeve and Casavir to her side, to replace Leona and Gann. The two clerics could cast spells that, depending on their strength (and the strength of the undead), could either scare, maim, or destroy them. There was a time that Casavir, as a Paladin, could also perform this spell.

"You cannot have forgotten, Kaelyn, that I don't belong on the front line right now."

It was the strangest time for her to be smiling. "You are mistaken, Paladin. It is time, I believe, for me to offer you the Second Gift from the Gods."

Casavir closed his eyes like he was receiving bad news. "So it's true then."

"Not exactly as you thought, I'm afraid." She pulled out the golden tunic, holding it upwards instead of out towards him.

He stayed quiet, clever enough not to reject before he knew exactly what was offered him. But his heart sank. He didn't want to be a Paladin again.

"As you surely guessed, this will restore your powers."

"Kaelyn, I…"

"But it won't make you a Paladin again, Casavir. That is something only Tyr can do. And whether he is one of the Gray, I will surely never know."

Casavir widened his already misty eyes at her. "Are you certain?"

"I am sorry. I know this is difficult. But this tunic gives you powers only. You know as well as I do that being a Paladin is about a lot more than that."

Casavir put out his hands. "You misunderstand me. I reject the mantle of Paladin. But I do not reject its powers. If the Gods believe it just that I use them without the title, I will not question their judgment."

Kaelyn let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and held the tunic out to his waiting arms. As she did, she leaned forward and whispered, "I thank you. We all thank you. But now, while it seems the Gods still have faith in you: what do you have left, for them?" The soft-spoken question hit Casavir like a sharp blade. Faith in Bitterness. Could he summon it?

It didn't matter, right now. He stripped off his armor, placed the tunic over his head, and instantly recognized the soft glow his skin let off. The Holy glow, without being marked as Holy. In itself it seemed blasphemous; but was this not a gift from the Gods themselves?

"Shit, not again," whined Neeshka from behind him in the second row.

"Come here, Neeshka," he said.
"Not on your life. I'll do enough puking at the Wall, thank you very much."

Instead he came towards her, and she would have backed away but Khelgar, who was standing next to her, got a good grip around her shoulders despite her attempts to squirm away. Casavir came closer until he was standing too close, and then, he reached out and touched her face.

Neeshka recoiled. "Oh no, oh no, no no…oh. Hey, you're normal. What the Hell?"

"My powers are back – for now. But not that identity. Please remember that."

"Uh, I'll try. But the glow brings back memories, you know. I feel a little queasy just lookin' at 'ya."

He smiled at his new friend. "I promise I won't glow at the pub, when this is all over."

She smiled too. "It's a deal, Holy Roller."

Kaelyn called to him. "It's time."

He strode back to the front line, to face the undead throng who were just close enough to threaten, but not close enough to attack. They were biding their time.

Casavir threw one last glance to Leona. "I hope I remember how to do this."

"It hasn't been that long. Besides, this is our first undead, so you wouldn't have used the spells this whole time anyway."

She had a point. But his whole mindset was different now. He'd forgotten about all the spells he'd had to keep up during his devotions – he would have practiced them, had he had them. And now, as Leona predicted, he felt useless in this fight unless he could contribute more than a heavily-swung sword.

Kaelyn, Casavir and Zhjaeve raised their arms together, and held hands at the top. Like reading a signal, the others spread out with weapons up, ready to attack just after the spell hit. They summoned power together, and spread it out over and above the undead before them. The undead were about twenty deep. When the spell struck – like heavenly lightning from the Gods to their fingertips and out across the army – the first two rows exploded, the second two rows lost their legs, and the next two rows tried to run away, frightened. This caused confusion towards the back of the ranks. The rest of them were ready to chase them down, cutting down the legless ones as they ran.

The three conjurers stepped forward over the bodies and performed their joint spell again, and again they exploded dozens, amputated dozens, and scared dozens. The undead army wasn't particularly smart or powerful; their major weapon was sheer size and numbers, which teamwork easily covered. They performed the spell twice more before collapsing, exhausted. The rest of the group took out the remaining army, and then sat down, sweaty and tired and full of grime.

"And we aren't even close to the Wall," Safiya said, kicking zombie-like body parts out of her way.

Gann looked up to what would have been the sky. "And you know night won't come here," he said. "There won't be any rest for us, for a long time."

All the same, they reached the City of Judgment, and were able to rest a bit. Tired people don't throw strong spells – not to mention strong blows. The City was an odd kind of busy with souls passing through, so they had time to regroup minds at least, if not bodies. No one said so, but they all knew Casavir had saved the last battle from certain defeat. Two clerics against an undead army would have been formidable, but not winnable. They each shivered to think what they'd have done if he hadn't had the gifted tunic – or if he'd refused it.

He'd also managed some healing. For the first time, he even healed Neeshka, putting his hands on her diseased leg and making it glow until it was normal again. Leona smiled at him from her seated position, sharpening arrows.

"You're doing much good."

He didn't look up. "These powers are false, and disingenuous. I have not earned them in Devotion."

She didn't have the energy to argue. "Well, clearly, Someone thinks you have."

Casavir shook his glowing hands out after the tension of healing. "I mock Tyr with my every step."

Kaelyn passed by, clapping her hand on his shoulder in a very warrior-like gesture. "Or perhaps you honor Him. We know not, yet."

There were several directions one could head from the City of Judgment; the Wall was but one of them. They talked strategy half-heartedly: remember the list of all the Faithless? Gann was thinking out loud. The Codex of the Doomed? What if they destroyed it? They wandered the area where they last saw it, but of course it wasn't there. Everything had changed, and they got easily lost. Eventually, by process of elimination, they chose a direction. They could see the Wall in the far distance, on the horizon to the East.

They walked for what seemed like miles, in an environment that was neither hot nor cold, neither sunny nor cloudy. It was like a world where someone had erased all the colors and all the emotion. It was emptiness brought to life. Leona and her foster father especially, as rangers, felt deeply the lack of flora, fauna, and animalia, around them.

Yet the Wall of the Faithless was like a terrible oasis, getting no closer no matter how much ground the covered. Finally Gann said, "We're going the wrong way."

"DUH," said Qara. "It's right in front of us."

"No, it's not. We'll never reach it by walking. Don't you remember the last time? It was upon us in one step. The Wall is not a place; you have to remember that. It's either here, or it isn't."

Leona's heart sank; she knew he was right. When she led the Third Crusade, they only got to the Wall because Kelemvor allowed it, so she could retrieve her soul.

"Kaelyn, how did you get there the first two times?"

She sighed. "The first time I was an angel; so, that was easy. The second time I…well, I bribed another angel. It was a ruthless time. I would not do it again, Gann, so don't ask."

"And Fia…"

"Couldn't do the job. Not anymore."

Gann smiled. "I wouldn't dream of asking. I figured there might be no other way to do this. Ophala?"

Leona's sixth sense lit up like the morning sky. She moved between Ophala and Gann. "Other way to do what?" she asked.

Two things happened at once. The first: Gann said, "I told you she would be invaluable." The second: Ophala side-stepped her, put up her hands, and struck him dead with one spell.

Neeshka came running from the other side of their caravan. She didn't spare a look towards Ophala, but just sputtered curses at Gann's body, now limp on the ground.

"No you didn't, you bastard, you said it was a last resort, you cowardly…"

Everyone came running, and formed a wide circle around his body. They were too shocked to shed tears. Some of them turned to Ophala, angry, but most of them just stood there in awe. The two of them had planned something, and she seemed to be following orders from her Captain – something each could respect. But they none of them could figure out why it happened.

"What the fuck good will THIS do?" cried Qara.

"I don't get it," said Safiya.

"Well-played," said Sand.

Leona finally found her voice. She pushed back the hair of her dead once-lover, and turned her face up to his killer. "Ophala, why?"

"Because Faithless souls have no God to return to, so part of them resides with their killers." She held out her hand – Leona now saw it as a murder weapon after seeing it bloody so many times, and now this. In it was a small, dim silver light. She smiled grimly, clearly taking no pleasure in her orders. "It will track him all the way to the Wall," she said.

Leona's words were out of her mouth before she thought them. "If that were so, we could have just gotten Casavir to track Horatio!"

And then she realized that no one else there knew for sure that Casavir had killed an unarmed man. Before now, it was rumor only. She had just divulged a secret that was not hers to share. She looked up, horrified. Casavir's face was so tight that it looked carved in wood. Everyone else froze. Too much action and emotion was happening at once, like at a circus, and they didn't even know where to look.

Ophala said – though it diffused nothing – "He would never have agreed, you know that. And besides, the killing has to be fresh – and also, magical."

"How did you know this?"

"Everybody knows this," said Sand. "It's classic wizard lore."

Safiya pouted. "I must have missed that lesson."

"Besides," said Ophala, "Gann is around spirits more than people. He knows what the living won't speak."

Neeshka glared at her. "You speak of him in present tense. That had better mean he's coming back, or I'll gut you myself."

Ophala tried to smile but missed. "I don't doubt you will, girl." Then she turned away and muttered, "And you may have to."

As that died down, eyes turned to Casavir, whose long-ago crime of murder had just been disclosed to everyone. Leona had already turned away from him, ashamed, and full of grief for Gann.

Khelgar hobbled up and clapped Casavir on his (lower) back. "Whatever, eh, we've all killed so many, sure you've lost count. It's what we do, eh? I've killed enough Faithless to fill this 'ere desert."

Casavir ignored him, intent on Leona. But Khelgar watched him closely, as if he was a loose weapon and might hurt someone. Casavir knelt down over Gann's body, next to Leona. "You've just lost a love," he said. Then, more softly, so only she (and maybe Sand) could hear: "Pull yourself together. You're no longer second-in-command, now. You have a mission to lead."

She looked back at him with wet eyes, and then snapped back into her warrior self. Now was not the time for apology. She helped Neeshka up and said to Sand, "Can you teleport, while in here?"

"No."

"Then load Gann's body on Okku. Casavir, come help Neeshka walk." He nodded, in approval as much as agreement. She walked over to the angels, who started praying as soon as Gann fell, and touched their shoulders. "Time to go." Then she walked over to Ophala – who also had very wet eyes – and wrapped her hand around the closed one with the piece of Gann's soul. "You show great courage today."

Ophala tried again to smile ,but again failed. "My legs are barely upright, Child."

Leona whistled for Honus and then said, "What next?"

"We hold on tight to each other, and Gann shows us the way."

Leona helped Ophala wobble onto Honus, and then they all hugged each other closely as if they were huddling in from cold. After a little consultation, Ophala, Sand, and Safiya raised up their hands and chanted together, and then suddenly, they were before the Wall. As they separated, Ophala looked down at her hand, and fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face: the dull gray light in her hand had disappeared.

The Wall looked, sounded, and smelled like it always had. But one of the souls before them was glowing with the same dull silver. And when Leona recognized it as Gann, the Wall overcame her and she started to scream. None of the now seventeen others could make her stop. She fell towards it, trying to rip it apart with her bare hands. As she fell away her right upper arm grazed it, and it cut her like stone would, all scrape and dots of blood. Then she screamed even louder, until one of the spellcasters took pity on her and helped her sleep instead of scream.

Kelemvor, God of the Dead, was suddenly before them, at the Wall. At the sight of Kelemvor, the angels and Casavir kneeled and inclined their heads; everyone else looked pretty damn angry. Leona was still unconscious; Honus was by her side, licking her bleeding arm.

"Greetings, God of the Dead," said Ophala, with as big a voice as she could muster, "We come to claim the soul of our friend and companion."

"That is not at all why you are here," Kelemvor said.

Ophala had one undecided moment, between coy and serious; the God was immune to her feminine charms, so she aimed for serious. It took everything she had to demand and not beg. "It is the reason we are here right now."

"And what makes you think I might honor such an absurd request?"

Kaelyn stood up, then, and approached him with the scroll. "Greetings, God of the Dead. I come as messenger from the Gray Alliance. They gave us a gift that ensures us safe passage."

He inspected it without moving; it was hard to tell if he read it at all. If an angel could look impassive, then the Gods were virtually made of stone. But, having seen Him before, Leona thought she saw a tiny flicker of annoyance pass across Kelemvor's tattooed face. The Gods generally saw him as fair and left him alone. He didn't like this interference.

"This scroll does not say 'safe passage' at its start. I am not bound to guarantee it."

Kaelyn had to think fast on her feet; she was bluffing already. "But the rest of the list has already been fulfilled."

"Not to my eyes, no."

To her credit, Kaelyn held strong. She had no idea what she was talking about but Kelemvor seemed to accept the scroll, to a point. And though she had no delusions that she could outsmart a God, she was thinking of her dead friend, and how she couldn't let him down. That loyalty alone saved her from paralysis. She said, "I see nothing lacking in our company."

With that, Leona stirred and sat up, stretching lazily. She clearly didn't remember where she was, and as soon as her mind caught up, she jumped to her feet and stomped, unsteadily, to Kaelyn's side. As she came level with the front row, it was painfully obvious again that someone was missing on her other side. Gann was, of course, still on the Wall. Leona started to tremble, and couldn't stop.

Everyone else found the Wall distasteful, disgraceful, a breach of contract. Each had personal reasons they wanted it to fall. But for Leona, it was a physical response. Not only had she watched Bishop, an ex-lover, on the Wall, alone and afraid; but her own soul had once been there too. Part of her envied Gann: his body was dead now. She had had to live in her soulless body, and retrieve her own soul from this wall. She couldn't help but remember the sound of hacking away at the dull gray blob at eye level. And now, here she was again, soul intact but breaking in two, knowing that Gann was there instead, and suffering. She kept shaking, shivering in her chest where once only stitches replaced her spirit.

Kelemvor seemed to float to face her. "Spirit-Eater. We meet yet again."

Leona raised her eyes to meet his hooded top, still shivering as she did so. She was shocked that He greeted her first, and then she was ashamed. She was in the company of a fair God, no matter how they disagreed, and she never meant to disrespect him. She opened her mouth to speak but He said, "I noticed your cleaning My Temple. Twice. I have not known humans to be so giving."

He paused, then continued, "Thus you have shown Kindness in Fear."

Leona closed her eyes and tried to stop shivering. This didn't matter to her. She already felt defeated, and could hear cries from the Wall, almost louder than the God's voice. Casavir came behind her, and put his steady arms around her, letting her relax into him.

Kelemvor turned back to the scroll. "You lack two of these requirements." Of the many different creatures assembled there, they all had the same reaction: we're only lacking two of them? Gann's idea was to come no matter what. He would never know how close they came, and what a right decision he made. Not that it mattered, since they were lacking anyway.

"Which?" Kaelyn was the only one who spoke to the God now. She was the highest rank in a celestial sense, though she would have deferred to Gann, who was the official Fourth Crusader. Leona might have spoken, but she was still shivering, trying to cower into Casavir and escape her own senses.

Kelemvor might have smiled if they could see His face clearly. "You take me for a messenger?"

Kaelyn had two choices: bow down, or go for broke. What would Gann have done? She stood to her full height, and spoke firmly to the God.

"We have every requirement on that list. The Gray Alliance will not allow us to leave without knowing what you dispute." Again, bluffing. Gann would have been proud.

"Very well," he said. "Begin."

"That's not how I understand it works," Kaelyn said. "I understand You tell us what You see and do not see." She was betting on the Gray Alliance outranking Kelemvor, and she was right in theory. But Kelemvor still refused.

"You are in my domain, and here you have burden of proof."

So the party stood together, and tried to bluff their way through a list of requirements they had never understood in the first place.

"Unlikely friends," said Kaelyn, looking around in desperation. Her eyes fell on Casavir and Neeshka, who were locking their arms around Leona to calm her. The answer was suddenly obvious to her eyes. "Our Fallen Paladin and our Tiefling."

"Yes." Kelemvor sounded bored, and probably was.

"Unlikely lovers, uh…" With that Ophala stepped up to the still-shaking Leona, and kissed her gingerly on the cheek, making eye contact with Kaelyn as she did so. Had Leona been more lucid, it would have reminded her just their first planning meeting at the Keep, a lifetime ago: kisses on the cheek, with intent. "Uh, those two." Kaelyn gestured toward the two women, and Kelemvor looked skeptical. "They are not lovers," He said.

"Greetings, God of the Dead. Not yet," said Ophala. "But it's just a matter of time. We have a contract."

"Produce it," said Kelemvor. She did, and he was satisfied. Though the rest of the group – Casavir included – rumbled with confusion, discontent, and embarrassment, Leona wasn't paying any attention at all.

"Ok," said Kaelyn, breathless with fear. "Unlikely fighters. That would be, uh, my Guard Fia?" She chastised herself for sounding uncertain. "I mean, my guard Fia. No one expected her to join our Crusade."

"Yes."

"All right. Unlikely allies. These are…uh…"

Kelemvor inclined his head, generously saving her from embarrassment. "You lack unlikely allies."

"No." Casavir raised his voice from his place beside Leona, not moving an inch. "We don't."

Kelemvor's head turned toward him quickly, like an owl, in an unhuman motion. "You don't greet me, Paladin." Any creature would have been frightened by the God's intense focus and reproach.

Now it was Casavir who looked bored, eyes fixed on Leona. "I don't have to. I am Faithless now. And I am no longer Paladin."

"Neither do you Fear me?"

Casavir, who had spent most of his life in the Gods' service, finally looked at Kelemvor with contempt. "I do. But I fear losing Love more. Right now my rightful place is at her side, not Tyr's, and definitely not Yours." He opened his mouth to say more, but then thought better of it.

Kelemvor ignored the emotional argument; He didn't deal in emotions. In fact, His job as God of the Dead made it positively impossible. "Yet you are not Faithless as you suppose."

Casavir growled, "Faith in Love doesn't seem to fit with Your model."

"No, Paladin, I speak of Faith in Bitterness."

With that, two things happened: the angel Fia, who was standing at Kaelyn's side, started counting on her fingers – an unusual sight for a superhuman being. And at the same time, Casavir stood up and roared, "I AM NOT A PALADIN!"

Fia fluttered over to quiet him; she had realized something, and didn't want him to anger Kelemvor before he understood it too. She put her hand lightly on his arm – they barely knew each other, so this was high praise coming from an angel. She leaned into him and whispered, "Do you remember when we met Kaelyn's grandfather Fierentila at the Gates?"

Such a subject change confused Casavir, whose rage was directed elsewhere, and he couldn't process her question at first.
"What of it?"

"He said there were four Faithless with her. Who were they?"

He looked up while counting in his head, then looked back to her, astonished.

"That's right. Safiya, Gann, Neeshka, Deekin. Not you. Never you. You were never faithless, Casavir. I don't know what Their definition is, but hold it together a little longer. We've long thought that you and you alone fulfill many requirements on this list."

Kelemvor spoke again, ignoring Casavir's outburst. "And so, who are your unlikely allies, Paladin?"

Casavir simmered with rage, but didn't yell again. He knew the God was showing him who had the power here, by calling him the name he'd disavowed. To save his Love, and get out alive, he kept his temper under wraps. But it took all of what little he had left.

His face taut, he pulled a scroll from his bag. He recited its words, and suddenly an army of Formian creatures was standing behind them, at the ready. Khelgar, who was in the back ranks, jumped about an inch off the ground when they appeared. Kelemvor merely nodded and looked back to Kaelyn. She was shocked that Casavir thought of that at this moment, and hoped it didn't show on her face. All our meetings, and no one threw out these ideas. It took the heat of the Wall itself to pull together all this. Did the Gods know? Did Gann know?

From here on, she was on easier ground. Okku and Honus were the sentient and familiar Animals, respectively, and Four Planes were clearly represented. Leona, though still not very responsive, had shown Kindness in Fear by clearing Kelemvor's Temple. No one else – including Casavir – knew she had done this, and couldn't figure out why she might have been afraid to clean a temple. But she was clearly afraid now, so the point was moot.

Faith in Bitterness was apparently covered by Casavir, but Kaelyn was stumped at Strength After Descent. "It has to be Gann," she said, thinking aloud.

"That remains to be seen," said Kelemvor, then turned to the rest of the Party. "Who will be the Three?"

They were ready for this one, after Leona's flash of inspiration in talking to the librarian at the Compound. Their original choices for the three strongest wills were Kaelyn, Leona, and Gann. But one of those was dead, and the other seemed very much broken. "Myself," Kaelyn said, and paused. Now she had to think carefully. Who else could bear the torture ahead? Maybe finding someone they knew on the Wall, and interacting with them? And more importantly, who could bear coming back to life afterwards, carrying that knowledge forever?

"I will go." It was Casavir, struggling to his feet and pulling Leona with him. In doing so he pulled Neeshka and Ophala up too, with the easy strength of a Paladin. They all looked at him, dumbfounded. He shrugged and said, "It's the tunic. It's not me."

Kelemvor said, "Unlikely friends indeed." Then, he got serious. "And your third?"

"Leona will go," Casavir said.

"Come on, she can barely stand!" Qara heckled from the back.

Casavir turned slowly, so as not to lose his grip on her. "Are you volunteering, Qara?"

"Hell, no."

"I thought not. Because Leona barely standing is stronger than you full on your feet." Casavir dismissed her by turning his front to the God. "She'll go. She'll want to."

A lot of people opened their mouths to protest, but no one wanted to take her place. Neeshka wanted to help her friend, but knew she would see Gann suffering if she went, and didn't think she could bear the pain. Also…a demon at The Wall? If she had to be honest with herself, she was afraid she couldn't trust her demon blood there. She wanted to stay as far away from her temptations as she could. The Wall called to her more than she cared to admit. But she felt guilty all the same. She whispered to Casavir, "What makes you so sure she'll want to go?"

"Because she'll get to see Bishop again, if she does."

He shuffled Leona up next to Kaelyn, and they followed Kelemvor away from the party. His face was unreadable, even though after what he'd just said, everyone in the party was trying to read it. Leona looked, if not physically broken, mentally so. He was handing her to his once-rival, or handing her to Hell. Did Casavir fear that she might not come back whole – or at all?

"Get comfortable," Sand said when the three volunteers disappeared from view. "We might be waiting here a very long time."

Kelemvor walked the Three further down the Wall. As usual in this place, they felt they'd hardly walked at all, and yet they were suddenly in a new place. The Wall was still before them, but seemed suddenly inanimate: no longer pulsing, screaming, living. It could just as well have been a sculpture of faces, a representation of someone's worst ideas of purgatory. With the sudden quiet, Leona stirred a little. She leaned on Casavir still, but looked around slowly, purposely keeping her back to the Wall.

"This is where you part," Kelemvor said. "If and when you reunite, it will be with your group."

"If and when we reunite," said Kaelyn, "will the Wall be gone?"

Kelemvor did not move an inch; one couldn't read body language on a God. "For this Scroll to be valid, it requires Strength After Descent."

"In other words, yes," said Kaelyn.

"In other words, yes."

Then He was gone, and each was alone, in Hell.

Leona rubbed her eyes, feeling like she just woke up from a long and fulfilling nap. She was in a beautiful clearing with a lake and a waterfall. All her ranger's senses were engaged: bright colors, flowers' aroma, waterfall roar. She could practically taste the sunshine. It had been ages in the Afterlife. She reached her hands out wide, to give more surface area to the warmth.

Wait. She was here to pass a test. The Wall's fate – and in it, her own – hung in the balance. Where was the test? Should she bask in this oasis, or should she reject it? She recalled Okku's words about genuineness. And how, right or wrong, she had to do what Leona Amithrada did. She tried not to overthink: what would I do, if I were really here, right now? She stripped off her weapons except for daggers, and waded into the water.

The water was more than a drink; it was liquid potency. Every pore breathed it in, never tiring of the oxygen within. When she came to the surface, she saw boots standing at the water's edge. She recognized the boots, had been ready for them. But she caught her breath anyway, and looked up towards the light-haloed figure. She also pulled her dagger. You could never be too careful with Bishop.

"What is it with you and waterfalls?" His voice was the same it always was in life – and even that one time in death – chiding, sarcastic, goading. He looked her over. "Your arm is bleeding."

What would I do? What would I do? Like a mantra. Repeat it, so you act and not think. I would gauge, watch, and wait. She climbed out of the water, not feeling even the slightest chill. "What do you want?"

"I think I should be asking you that, Captain," said Bishop. "You want something from me. Otherwise you and your Paladin would be happy every after, am I right?"

Leona smirked – how little he knew. It's not a maze; it's a jungle. Nothing mattered but coming out the other side, however she got there.

She said, "Casavir has fallen. Does that please you, then?"

Bishop looked her up and down, taking her measure as if she'd suddenly turned into someone else. She thought she even saw a glimmer of fear pass over him. But she'd stopped trying to figure him out long before he died. Gauging Bishop was harder than guessing the right choices in Hell. This was double-hell, come to think of it: it wasn't fair.

He took a step towards her. "Maybe it does please me. Does that mean he's more boring, or less?"

She changed tack. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Sure, I do. You want something only I can give you. Or – wait – wasn't always the case?"

Stay alive. Jungle.

She stepped back. "I need to know you have no weapons."

Bishop smirked, and stripped down his clothes until it was perfectly clear he had no weapons. "Satisfied? Or, not nearly?"

Leona rolled her eyes. "I'll be honest with you, Bishop. I don't know why I'm here, either. I really, truly don't. I campaign to dismantle the Wall of the Faithless. Part of doing so requires, apparently, that I spend some time with you." She looked more angry about it than she actually was.

"Well, well, a Crusade of Worth. And the Paladin joins you in this?"

"Yes."

"No wonder he Fell, then." He walked around behind her; she rotated as he revolved so she always faced him. He cocked his head and smirked.

"So here's the part where you say you're committed to this failed holy man, and we sit around for eternity while the Faithless suffer. Fine by me, Captain: best foreplay ever. Or, are you going to take one for the team, and get it over with by joining me under the waterfall?"

Rules don't apply here. Stay alive. Leona tried to remember Bishop's strength. Could he kill her with his bare hands? Could she afford to be vulnerable, now? If she could make it seem important to him too…What was in his best interest?

"If you kill me, Bishop, I won't be –"
"Come now, Captain. You think what I want to do right now is kill you? Later, maybe, I'll kill you. Right now I want you breathing."

Leona wondered at how Bishop's logic always seemed infallible. She submitted, but made sure her right arm was always free, just in case. It was hurt anyway, and she wanted it available to protect herself physically. But she knew Bishop's mental games cut far worse than his blade. He was deadly, even naked, and she feared him. Even in her pleasure, she feared him.

Casavir awoke in an abandoned great room of what looked like a seedy pub. There was a man at the bar, hunched over, energy coiled like a snake about to strike. Just as Leona wouldn't be surprised at seeing Bishop, he knew, too, who he would find. He pulled up a barstool several away from the hunched man, and waited.

"We're in Luskan, you know." The man's voice was steely and harsh, just like Casavir remembered. "My turf. So watch yourself." He took a drink from his mug, and the last handful of food in the bowl at his side.

"I don't think we're in Luskan at all. I think we're in Hell."

The man scoffed. "That's what you high 'n mighty Neverwinter folk like to call Luskan, don't I know that. But I know its secrets. I've seen 'em in the Wall, Pretty Boy."

At the mention of Horatio's old nickname for him, Casavir's fists wadded into tight balls. He reminded himself none of this was real. This was what the devils wanted him to see, wasn't it? Or was Horatio really here, in a body he could kill all over again?

Ironic that Casavir was the "Pretty Boy," for Horatio was very pretty indeed. He had unaged sandy hair, nearly androgynous features, and a delicate but strong body. He'd been a ladies' man in life, but the way he treated his ladies was decidedly not pretty. Casavir, always a man of morals, always good, was somehow a boy in comparison. And he, aged years while Horatio stayed the same, still felt like a boy. Even now, he sat uncomfortably on the stool while Horatio dangled nimbly, as if he spent all his Afterlife perched right there. And maybe he had.

"I didn't Fall from killing you," Casavir said, as if it mattered. "But I did Fall. I'm here to break the Wall down. Even you don't deserve its eternal punishments."

Horatio lifted his face then, and Casavir saw what the Wall had done to him. He now had wild, darting eyes, like a child who's been beaten unexpectedly too many times. He was afraid even to exist. "I'll be damned to have you kill me and then save me."

"I think you're already damned. But we can agree you've suffered more than enough."

"How's our girl?" The same pet names, so many years later. They cut just as they always had. Horatio knew how to stick the knife in – in just about every way. In this arrested stage, it hurt just as it did then.

"She's on this mission as well. She, too, wants to see the Wall fall."

"Of course she does. Friend of the Faithless and all that. Never a better lover, eh?" Horatio thought he was goading his rival, thought the reminder of them together would bruise his heart. Casavir smiled.

"Oh, so there was better? Do tell, Pretty Boy."

Casavir decided to indulge him. It wasn't like it mattered, anymore. "You've heard of the Manor Prison?"

Horatio looked surprised. "Don't tell me you've had the honor?"

"I have."

"Well, damned lucky fool, aren't you. For killing me? Hells. Here to thank me, then? Or to gloat – which?"

"Not my style. I'm here to stay alive only."

Horatio got up from his stool, and slid his mug and bowl across the bar. He sat again on the stool next to Casavir, too close. "We already fought to the death, you and I. But I got something worse than a sword, right here." He polished the bowl with his impeccably – coiffed sleeve. "See, I know," he said, as he leaned closer, "that there was another just like me. And I know…" he turned the bowl upside down. "…that it was even worse, with him. Because you didn't love Ophala that much, not really, and because I never really was a threat to you, not really. So have a look at this, Pretty Boy, and tell me, who's in Hell now?"

Casavir looked at the wide base of the bowl. There, clear as if he were watching in person, he saw Leona. And Bishop. Leona and Bishop. Entwined like vines. He could hear them, too, as if he was standing right there.

"It's not real," he said dismissively. All of this around him, it was fabrication. Knowing that was his only sanity.

"Oh, but it is, Pretty Boy, it is. Look again. Look at her arm."

He hated to stare again. But there, wrapped around his rival, was Leona's right arm, gashed and newly bloody right above the elbow. It was her, right now. She was with him, only the Gods knew where. It seemed Bishop was taking what didn't belong to him – again.

Added insult was that Horatio was watching and savoring his reaction. And to top it off, he had to admit he expected it, himself. When he volunteered Leona as one of the three, he knew – and said as much to Neeshka – that Leona would want to see Bishop again. He knew she would be tempted, maybe as part of her Hell. He even thought they might reunite as lovers, and thought himself honorable for allowing, even encouraging it. But to see it, now…to see her arms around him…it was appalling. It was worse than death. Horatio was right: it was Hell.

He told himself it wasn't real. He told himself the Gods were powerful, and could be making it up, plucking pieces from real and fiction to create the scene on the bowl. He told himself that didn't look like Hell for Leona, and she was facing her own Trial, so it probably wasn't true. But all the same, he couldn't un-see it. Or un-hear it. Those were sounds that should be reserved only for him.

Casavir slammed his wrist onto the bowl, scattering the smashed pieces across the clear wooden bar. As it smashed, each piece then reflected the same images, so that he saw and heard dozens of Leonas wrapped around dozens of Bishops. Horatio threw his head back and laughed. Casavir had, in essence, just told him the best joke he'd heard in a while. And what did he care, thought Casavir. He was already dead. Compared to his usual purgatory, this was probably the most fun he'd had in years. Years on the Wall. Years of emotional and physical pain that was probably fifty times worse than this one scene. Endless torture on the Wall.

At once, like gears shifting in a machine, Casavir's Paladin training kicked in, and he forgot his own pain to pity Horatio for his. In between guffaws, Horatio looked at Casavir again and stopped laughing, abruptly. Because Casavir was glowing again – and he wasn't wearing the Gods' tunic.

Again Horatio looked afraid and wary, eyes darting around like there were devil-ghosts in the wood's cracks. "Watching your lover desire the man you hate, and you still glow like that? Are you even human, man?"

With his usual stone-like face, Casavir said, "This pain I feel right now, there are people on the Wall who have been feeling it for years. Maybe you have been feeling it for years. I am here because I want that Wall to come down. No one should be punished like this, no matter their sins. We pay for them once, and we should repent. Bad decisions shouldn't reap twice the rewards for the Hells.

"And your lover-girl? What price will she pay, eh?" Horatio wanted to return the conversation to something less righteous, something more personal.

Casavir closed his eyes for a long time. All he could see on his eyelids was her body entangled with another man's, that man's. Horatio saw he was getting to him, and added for good measure, "Looked just like Ophala and me used to, yeah, all passion and fire."

What price will she pay? Leona. Ophala. Casavir thought of them one after the other, and then together. What would it take out of Leona, to know all they shared as lovers would also be shared by his ex, because of her contract? Was this so different?

Finally he opened his eyes and said, "If she survives this, she'll already have paid the price." Heart convulsing under his breastplate, he tried not to think of the price he would pay, the price their relationship would pay. Instead he played Paladin. He knew how; it was as easy as breathing. It was easier, sadly, than being with Leona. He locked up his rage, swallowed the key, pulled out his stool again, and sat. "Now let me tell you about the contract Ophala just made her sign. It makes what I just saw look like child's play."

Leona knew she should feel guilty, but she didn't. Rules didn't apply here – she didn't know what was even real – but she knew that being with Bishop again was part of the Hell she was meant to bear. It had been three years, but now she'd have to start again, mourning, repairing, forgetting. If that Wall comes down, she thought, this is a price I'm willing to pay. It is, in essence, paying with my life.

Bishop had, as usual, dressed and gone after he'd finished with her. She dressed again, down to her weapons, and let her senses explore the area for her. Clearly there was something else she was supposed to do here.

The surroundings and the passion had charged Leona's senses to full power, like a battery. So when the arrow flew towards her she heard it long before it came close, and she leaned ever so slightly to the left as it whipped past her neck. She continued her left turn, notching her own arrow, which was ready to loose by the time she faced her foe. She couldn't see the archer yet, but she had a damned good guess. Or at least, there was only one she knew who shot that accurately. And he had just been here.

She backed into some low bushes while staying at the ready, ears on overdrive. Later, maybe, I'll kill you. Isn't that exactly what he had said?

Leona crouched a long time in the bushes, trying to make sense of his actions. The longer you wait in stakeout, the more likely you are to make mistakes; she must have made one, because suddenly there was a knife at her throat. The same hands that had just pleasured her minutes before, were now prepared to shed her blood.

"Drop it," he said, and she let her sword fall to the ground. She knew better than to try to talk him out of it. Bishop had switched sides so many times that she and her team had whiplash by the end of the Shadow Wars. Besides, this wasn't life; this was Hell. This might not even be Bishop, as she knew him. All bets were off. No, not all. There was one thing she could always bet on: herself. Okku didn't know how right he was.

Bishop's right hand was around her neck; his left around her waist. He held her tightly enough that she couldn't squirm out. Her right arm wasn't strong enough, with her injury, to knock him off balance. Leona pushed back the emotional pain, that these same arms were just caressing her. That emotional carnage would have to wait; for now, she had to get free another way.

She winced before the pain came: this was going to hurt. She arched her neck backward, scraping herself along his blade, and gave her the little bit of room needed to kick her leg backward towards his groin. She missed, but surprised him enough that she spun out of his grip, facing him but not daring to move for her sword.

Leona recalled quickly how he fought, after training so much with him. But he had died years ago, while she had improved and learned. She racked her brain for new techniques Grizelda or the wizards had taught her – things he wouldn't have seen. When Bishop came towards her, striking high then low as she knew he would, she dug in her heels and slid under him, reaching for her sword as she went. She didn't get it, but knocked it clumsily away from him, so she kicked wide with her foot and knocked him mostly off balance while she lunged for the hilt, and found it. Now they were evenly matched for weapons, and she relaxed just a little. He was stronger, but she was faster, and in better shape. And also, she was alive. She tuned in to the blood at her arm and neck – felt them pulsing, active – to remind her why she was here, and how she was different from him.

But as she relaxed, her emotions seeped into the empty space just a little, and the woman in her glared her betrayal and resentment. "WHY?" She screamed. Now that she was facing him, her heart ached, and she had to know. Tears threatened to come, seeing his face as full of passion as before, but for the wrong thing.

"Because you'll go back to him, if you live. And now that he's Fallen, he'll have all the things he lacked before. All the things you sought out in me."

She wanted to comfort him for all his insecurities, but instead she gripped her hilt tighter. All she could say was a wistful, "Oh, Bishop."

Because how wrong he was, on so many levels. But she knew him, how his jealousy made him lash out; she'd lived this before. And she knew she didn't have time to talk him down from his jealousy. He wouldn't change his mind, because now he had nothing to lose.

Her pity seemed to make him angrier. "Now you'll have to kill me, to get back to him. Do you have the heart for it, Leona?"

She raised her sword, arm throbbing, while feeling that surely there was no Hell greater than this. "You forget something, Love." Her name for him softened him just a little; she saw his shoulders relax. Then she steeled herself, and lunged, left than right, the opposite of her most common attack when he knew her. She sliced him on each lunge, making matching gashes on both sides, and the blows knocked him down. He lay there, bleeding out, while she kicked his longsword and daggers away.

"Bishop, you're already dead. I am not killing you."

He grimaced through pain. "What does it feel like to you?"

"It feels like Hell. And it is." She touched his face, gently, the lover in her resurfacing to mourn him all over again.

He said, "Is that what I forgot?" And he closed his eyes, which helped him catch his breath.

"No. You forget that I'm not doing this to get back to him. I'm doing this to break down the Wall. There is a higher purpose here than you, or me, or him, or love."

"That sounds like something he would say."

"Not lately. That's the opposite of what he would say. But this is my Hell, and here it's the truth."

Leona ran her hands over him, careful to comfort and not make him hurt more. She kept telling herself this wasn't real, that she had to let this thing die. This is not Bishop. He is already dead. She fought every urge to bandage his wounds. Instead she used her voice to heal at least one wound, if she could. If it was really him on some level, at least maybe he would hear her, keep her words for an eternity.

"I loved you so much. I miss you every day, Bishop. I do."

"Well, I fucking hate you."

"I know."

"I hate you because you're the reason I left the Wall. Now I get to spend an eternity now in your debt. I hate you for your virtue."

"No." Leona squeezed his hand, and brushed her lips across his cheek. "No. Neeshka told me this, just last year. And she was right. You left the Wall because you committed an act of love, when you found that mask for me and saved me from the curse. It is I, in your debt. I still live, and I thrive, because of your good deed. And that's what you always wanted, Bishop. You chose both of our paths – you and only you. Free Will. That's why I'm here. Free Will, Free Will, Free Will."

"I will never stop-"

She put her hand against his mouth. "Stop," she said. This mouth was just on her, and now she had to silence it. She closed her eyes, and struck the killing blow.

And then Bishop was gone, in the Afterlife. Every evidence he was there was suddenly erased, like he was brushed out of her landscape by a brush. Maybe that's how the Gods do this: paint at an easel while mortals suffer so?

Leona would never know what he meant to say, what he would never stop. Loving her? Hating her? Suffering? It could be just about anything. There was no blood on the ground; he hadn't really just died, anyway. Not that it didn't feel real, the flesh resisting her blade. But Bishop's words were toxic. The more he spoke, the more someone got hurt. She was hurting enough. And now she could imagine what he would have said, if they both hadn't been in Hell. The reality would surely have been worse.

Leona winced, trying to un-remember the feeling of slashing her lover's sides. She had barely mourned him the first time, anyway. The first time, she awoke after the battle in a strange land, unsure of who lived and who died. It was a year before she found out for sure who was gone. By then she found the living a pleasant surprise. So no, this wasn't a real death. Not really. But her neck still bled and his scent lingered on her body. Leona curled up against a tree trunk, where she could see any other attackers, just in case. She wasn't going through all that just to die now. And then she mourned Bishop properly, with tears, and a hollowed out grief that had taken three years to find its voice.

For the first time ever, Casavir was drunk. He and Horatio – and a bunch of other men who had appeared suddenly in the bar – were singing songs of their youth. Some of these songs were off-color; there was a time when Casavir might have stomped out of a bar where men were singing these very songs. But, despite his still glowing, at the moment he didn't care about any of those things. Holding rage inside was overrated. Instead he drowned his sorrows as men had done for centuries before him.

The men were all toppling over when the women came; this was a language he spoke fluently, now. The women were aggressive, unabashed, and in control, and the men were all too happy to be used. Until, one by one, the women covertly slit their throats. The women were dancing in the blood, and doing sinful things with the limbs. The orgy had switched from sex to blood in a matter of seconds. In the self-absorbed haze that is drunkenness, Horatio and Casavir barely registered their predicament until the last few men were murdered before their eyes. Their vision at once adjusted to the darkness; they pushed their women off them just in time. Casavir jumped over the bar and grabbed a few of the broken bowl shards he'd smashed just hours before.

Horatio jumped into the fray of women and yelled back to Casavir, "I'm already dead, you know. This isn't really my fight. But what a way to go!" And off he ran, one woman after him out the door. They all knew she'd catch up eventually. This wasn't really his home turf, as Horatio said; it was hers. She'd find him, and kill him all over again. Given his chance to do a good deed, and the fact that he ran away to save himself, Casavir figured he'd be back on the Wall in a matter of minutes. His mind walked through molasses, wondering why he was doing all this anyway, for people like Horatio.

But there wasn't much time for philosophy, even if his drunken brain could have handled it, because there was an army of lovely women ready to rip his limbs to pieces. They had daggers; he had shards thrown behind a bar. They were lucid, and probably supernatural; he was drunk and heartsick. Not much of a contest, he thought. But Gods help me; I have to see Leona again.

The thought of her name struck him like its own blow; he braced himself along the bar. He remembered that, for whatever reason, he still had his Paladin powers, so he attempted to use them. Were these ladies evil? He tried his spells against evil, cutting about a quarter of them down. It would have been more, he thought, if I didn't have to recite the spell three times for every time it works. Fickle, fickle ale.

Were they undead? He tried his undead spells, to no avail. Anti-evil spells work better. So he grabbed his mug of ale, enchanted it as a divine weapon, and swung it with all his might at the murderous ladies. As a warrior, he'd killed so many he'd lost count. Many races, all sexes (some creatures had more than two), whatever it took. But he couldn't recall ever killing a human female. This would be new. He tried to knock them out, but it was hard to tell what a blow to the head with an iron mug would do, and he was fighting for his very life while they were playing with daggers. He tried not to think about what he was doing. He could worry about his soul later; right now he just had to get out alive.

Casavir stumbled through the pub doors several minutes later, dagger nicks all along his body. He clutched his iron mug as if it were a golden weapon; and then he bent over in the bright outside light, and vomited all over the ground. His head was spinning; no, that wasn't right. The world was spinning, and he was standing still. Is this what ale does? Or is this Hell? He could barely lift his head to look around, but when he did he saw…nothing. Truly nothing, as if all matter had been erased around him. The scene of the pub had been created, but the rest had been left off. He felt truly at the edge of the world.

In the white emptiness, something fluttered up in the air. Was it a moth? Here, in this nothingness? All that mattered was his iron cup, and not throwing up again. But the moth came closer until he saw it wasn't a moth at all flying near, but Kaelyn. Her blackened wings dropped her on the ground softly, though she was bleeding in three places and her left arm hung limply at her side. She looked like she'd fought more than a roomful of uppity prostitutes, and Casavir felt suddenly angry at himself for his previous self-pity. Though in his defense, he thought, he didn't know if she had to watch her lover with someone else, or watch women sexualize bloody body parts. Though in Hell, it was surely equally horrific. It was clear they weren't going to swap stories; warriors didn't, while the war was still on. It would serve no purpose, and would only paralyze.

"Let's move!" She yelled like the commander she was. He jumped to his feet, and then vomited again from the sudden movement. Pain exploded in his head like a bomb; he could hear her yelling something faintly, beyond the agony. He had barely wiped his mouth when she grabbed him by the waist and took to the sky. Casavir closed his eyes and moaned. He had been near death so many times, but this felt worse than any of those. "What's going on?" he managed to stammer.

"Can't you hear me, man? Leona's in trouble!"

They flew above the nothingness, until Casavir could actually see the separations among their three scenes. They were, surprisingly, very close to each other, if one knew how to reach across the planes. And Kaelyn, of all people, did. She knew enough of how the Afterlife worked to know how to find her friends here. He wondered vaguely whether this was breaking the rules somehow, and sealing their fate. At the moment, though, he was sure the hangover was much worse than the Wall.

They landed near a lake in a pretty wooded area: just something she would like, thought Casavir. When he righted his feet – between hangover and landing, not an easy task – he knelt at the side of the lake and washed off his face and soiled shirt. The water made him feel almost human again, and then he remembered why he was here: Leona. He looked around and recognized the place from the snippet he saw in the bowl. Right there is where they were standing. So it's true, then.

"Where is she?"

"Knew you'd come to, eventually, barfly. She's in the dense forest by the tallest trees. Wouldn't come out, and kept slashing at me when I came near. Thought you might do her more good."

Though still fuzzy, Casavir was suspicious. He felt he was walking into a trap, and he had no weapon other than this useless iron mug that he'd enchanted against evil. He wasn't even sure he could trust Kaelyn here. Nothing was as it seemed.
"Do you have any extra weapons?" Of course she did. She produced two short swords from her back and handed them over as if handing two plates of Sunday dinner.

"I expect them back clean, Paladin."

"For the last time, Kaelyn, I'm not a –"

"Looks like it to me. You're glowing up a storm."

Casavir looked down at his wet shirt and shallow, bloody nicks. "Not that it did me a lot of good."

Kaelyn shrugged. "Well, you're alive. And your mug is glowing. Now collect your Captain and let's get out of here."

My Captain. Maybe after all this, that's all she'll be to me. He was, he had to admit, afraid of seeing her face again. He barely saw her face through the bowl shards. But he knew where it had been. Still, there was no place else to go, so he headed for the tallest trees, almost praying for patience, and an end to his headache.

Leona couldn't tell, anymore, what was real and what wasn't. She was sure her cuts were real because they hurt; but didn't you hurt in dreams to wake up perfectly fine?

She wanted to curl up and cry in peace, until she was dry, and then climb into the water and rehydrate, and cry it out again. She wanted to do this again and again, until she purged the memory of what she'd just done. That it wasn't real had no bearing: this tree trunk felt real; the water she drank tasted real. As long as she was here, this was a place. And as long as this was a place, this was the place where she and Bishop made love, and then fought to the death.

In her mourning, she had nightmares. She felt like she was watching a movie, watching atrocities she couldn't turn away from. Casavir, cut all over and treading through rich blood with beautiful women slashing at him. Kaelyn, clipping her own wings. Angels with faces like devils. She was trapped in all the negativity as she slept, willing herself to wake up; and then she would wake, and mourn again with a heavy heart, and try to sleep. There was no peace, in either realm.

Once she thought an angel passed by; it might have been Kaelyn. The angel approached her, and spoke in a language she didn't understand. It was made of music and almost had colors. She was tired of mind games, and waved the thing away. She would kill whatever she had to, to get out of this place. But at the moment she was too tired to look for a door, so she let her guard down and slept, back still against the tree.

When she awoke, nothing had changed in the place, except that Bishop was lying next to her on the ground, and they were holding each other tightly. Wait, that wasn't Bishop. Who the hell…she jumped up, scared and angry, feeling betrayed by her very eyes. Was this really Casavir? Would she have to kill him, too?

Her sudden move woke him; he looked like Hell. Appropriate, wasn't it, given the circumstances. He moved like a much older man, like he'd been drugged and was still recovering. If she did have to fight him, it wouldn't take much. Though maybe that was his plan. She could hear herself getting more paranoid by the minute. Having to kill your lover would do that to a girl.

"How the Hell did you get here?"

He ignored her question. "Are you all right?"

"What the Hell does it look like? Where did you come from? Why are you here?" She backed away slowly.

He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to staring up at her. He scrunched his eyes, somewhere between a squint and a wince. He explained, quickly and without detail, how they thought she was in danger. She stared at him, full of suspicion.

"Let's go."

He stood. "I asked if you were all right. Are you?"

"No. But ask me again when we get out of here."

They walked to the clearing – Casavir tripped twice along the way, which was unlike him. Leona made him walk in front so she almost tripped over him too, which made her frown and curse both times. He was usually light on his feet through brush, but Leona didn't want to ask and he didn't want to tell, so they stayed silent for the walk. He was happy to be in front, anyway, though didn't say so; looking at her face was still hard for him.

When they reached Kaelyn, Leona drew her sword. Kaelyn's hands were up showing peace. "Please, Leona, it's me."

"Why weren't you speaking English before?"

"I was. But you were sleeping, and slashing in your sleep. I couldn't wake you."

"Then it wasn't you I saw. This angel was speaking in…in colors or something."

Kaelyn's face shifted from disbelief to surprise to fear, all within one second. "Then we've got to get out of here, and fast. If the angels meddle in this, we'll never get out alive."

"Now, that," Leona said to Casavir as they each took one of Kaelyn's arms and flew upwards, "is something I never thought I'd hear anyone say."

The problem was that once up in the air, Kaelyn had no destination other than away. She flew higher and higher until they could no longer see their respective Hells, and then suddenly they were in a temple of Kelemvor. Casavir, still feeling a little sour, sat down on a stone bench, but the women twirled around, both remembering.

"This is the one in the City of Judgment," said Leona.

"Yes." They drew their swords and instinctively turned back-to-back. The last time they were here, they fought a very powerful mage, who caught them off-guard.

"Stand down, trio. Your Trials have concluded." Kelemvor appeared at the front of His temple, hooded and floating as per usual. He did not congratulate them; they weren't sure he wanted them to succeed, and none of them were sure living with their current knowledge would be easier than having died.

Kaelyn tried to regain composure for another round of bargaining. "Is the Scroll fulfilled, then?"

"It is, if you can prove Strength After Descent."

"Which one of us has descended? Gann?"

"I think, likely, you all have. Prove your strength."

They all looked at each other, bewildered. Kelemvor didn't go for emotional proof; but then, Kelemvor didn't create these requirements. What's more, not knowing the others' trials, they couldn't help solve any mysteries but their own.

Kaelyn spoke again. "I will need Fia to do that."

She had barely finished speaking when Fia suddenly appeared, spoon of hot broth half-way to mouth. It spilled on her, and she cursed, frustrated. Then she looked around in excited hope that what she saw was real. Fia forgot her broth and threw her arms around Kaelyn, still holding the spoon behind her. Kaelyn drew her out to arm's length, and gave her a kiss, a lover's kiss, enough that the two humans turned their heads for privacy. Kaelyn had to admit she wasn't sure that took strength, but given her trial, it felt like it did. And it couldn't hurt, even if she was wrong.

Leona, taking a cue from her friend, walked to Casavir and tilted her face up. For her part, she was showing trust in a man who wouldn't betray her, and vulnerability to allow herself to love again. If that wasn't strength after descent, she didn't know what was.

But Casavir hesitated. He looked at her lips, and instead of desiring them, he saw them linked to someone else's skin. He found her momentarily revolting. That one moment was all Kelemvor needed to see.

"Your requirements have not been met. Gather your Scroll and party, and you may tell the Gray Alliance that I complied with their wishes, but you did not."

They found themselves back at the Wall, in front of their friends, who let out a great cheer to see them again. The angels looked around awkwardly; they couldn't understand why their mission had failed. But the lovers did. Casavir closed his eyes the way people do when they receive the worst news. And Leona stared up at him, shocked at his dismissal of her, questioning what had happened. When he opened his eyes again the party was still carrying on; he looked down at her and said only, "I saw you with Bishop." Then it was her turn to close her eyes. And when he saw them again, they were bright and angry, despite her fatigue.

"The sex, or the part where I had to kill him?"

Casavir was so shocked that he took a step backwards. "You what?"

"You heard me." She walked away then, and muttered, "Hypocrite," before she turned to the party and the Formian allies. "Who knows how to get Kelemvor back here? We need to talk."

Casavir could only stare after her. He knew she was right.

The party got their weapons ready, and they began hacking at the Wall any way they could. They threw spells, swung greatswords, kicked and scratched. Devils appeared, to guard their prizes, and they hacked them down just as well. The Wall didn't budge, of course, but they were enough of a thorn that Kelemvor reappeared, if only to send them away. That's what they were all afraid of. No one would risk the Trials again. This was their only shot.

When He appeared, Leona marched up to Him with Kaelyn in tow. "Strength in Descent. We have fulfilled it. Prove how we have not."

"You no longer greet Me with respect, Ranger."

"I just came from the Trials. I'm not feeling particularly generous to Gods right now, and I don't believe the fate of millions should rely on the strength of my Will alone. It's absurd."

"Be that as it may, Ranger, you volunteered under the rules, and I am still a God."

Leona stood her ground. "Fine. Greetings, God of the Dead. Strength. In. Descent."

Kelemvor had his "bored" aura on again. "Your Paladin did not exhibit the quality."

"And where does it say he was supposed to? And where does it not say that surviving alone equals the quality? How do You know this isn't about Gann and his return to Life?"

"Because, Mortal, it comes after the Trials on the Scroll. Do you think I have never seen one of these?"

"What I think, is that it's not open to Your interpretation. If it were, it would go your way every time." She paused there, sure she was right. If they had truly failed, they'd have been kicked out of here long before this moment. The God was playing tricks, and she'd about had it with tricks.

"Go ahead, ask Casavir about strength. Please, of all people, ask him. Let this be settled. Falling is descent. If anyone has shown strength through it, it's him."

Leona knew she had won when Kelemvor glided over to Casavir, who was still hacking at devils, sweating away his grief. He barely saw the God, and narrowly missed hitting Him with his hammer. Not that it would have had any effect, but surely it would have angered Him.

"Tell me, Paladin," Kelemvor said softly. "Tell me about your choices after your Fall."

Casavir turned to him, and Khelgar stepped in as if choreographed, and took his place hacking at devils. He frowned, as if trying to remember how to speak after using his body to express so much rage.

"I always thought I was a good man because I was bad at heart. I thought I had to force myself at every turn to make good choices. Thus, all the devotions and abstentions. Now, I find I am naturally doing these things, without the incentive. Without the carrot or the stick. I find I make good choices simply because I want to be a good person." He paused, realizing this sounded too much like a proclamation, and wasn't sure what the God was looking for. He added, "Will, not Fear, guides my hand. It wasn't always so."

Kelemvor, emotionless as always, inclined his head slightly. "Here stands a man who does not make choices for fear of Death. This is the kind of man my disciples hope to create. You are a credit to your race, Paladin."

Casavir wasn't at all expecting to hear such compliments from a God he'd defied during this entire Crusade. He knelt down in front of the God, and bowed his head in thanks. Then he dared risk a request.

"Would there be Safe Passage for my friend Gannayev? It is his Free Will that inspired mine, and surely he didn't fear death in getting us here in the first place."

Kelemvor turned with that owl-like swivel towards Kaelyn, and said, "The Scroll has been fulfilled. You all shall receive Safe Passage from these lands."

And then Gann was sitting atop Okku where his dead body just was. But it wasn't a loving homecoming between his soul and his body. He started to convulse and vomit, and looked to all like he was about to die one more time. Kelemvor looked bored by the whole exchange. "And the rest of it?" He said, referring to the scroll.

Kaelyn took a gamble. "You know what it means."

"I know why you think you're here. Do you?"

Gann was trying to choke out words. "The Trials…who…I can…"

Casavir went to him and put his hand reluctantly on the other man's seizing back. "It's all right, Gannayev. They were completed. I went in your stead."

Gann looked truly like death, but had the strength to look his once-rival in the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, as Neeshka tried to force water on him.

Casavir looked surprised. "Gannayev. You were just on the Wall. My trial was surely child's play in comparison."

Gann swallowed the water, then vomited it up again. "Is it coming down, then? The Wall?"

"That depends," said Kelemvor, suddenly at their side. "You have earned the right to entreaty, and I will accept or dismiss."

Leona shook her head. "All this," she said, "for the right to be dismissed." She turned to Gann. "You shouldn't have been on the Wall."

Gann kept skin contact with Neeshka as if she was air to breathe. He smiled at her. "The anti-devil," he said. Then, to Leona: "This will be our first entreaty."

He staggered – maybe more like let Neeshka drag him – over to face Kelemvor. "Greetings, God of the Dead," he said with a scratchy, sarcastic voice. "The first thing – the only thing, really – is that the Wall of the Faithless should become the Wall of the Evil-doers. The Gods can't double dip. They exist to promote good deeds, do They not?"

"They do not."

Gann looked up in surprise.

"They exist, because they are believed in. A God's greatest fear is obscurity. Without punishment for lack of faith, they risk it too closely."

Gann narrowed his eyes. For all his post-death frailty, his concentration was that of a scholar playing chess. "But with punishment, They risk revolt. Kelemvor, look outside these gates. Once-faithful believers are angry. There are two angels, a cleric, and a Paladin on this team. The holiest that exist! They all of them want to model themselves on your evenhandedness. If You don't provide it, You risk losing a lot more than a handful of frightened Faithful."

Those standing there close to Gann realized that they couldn't have made this argument without him. Today was different than the previous crusades. Kaelyn's first two Crusades featured brute force; Leona's was, admittedly, self-serving. They tried to reason with Kelemvor a little back then, but He knew they were really there for something else. They hadn't earned the right to make the argument.

What's more, they had before sounded like whiny children crying, "unfair!" Gods swat that insolence away like flies. But Gann, an extreme observer of motives, understood what the Gods wanted. And he presented the Wall in a way that seemed, now, detrimental to them too. The party could step up with arms, undergo trials, and fulfill all kinds of scrolls, but in the end it came down to the Gods doing what they wanted to do. Gann had but few seconds to convince Them that their interests all aligned. Kelemvor's silence implied that maybe he had actually done it.

Kelemvor was quiet. He was wavering. Gann knew just how much to push. He said softly, "I understand Your purpose is to relieve mortals of the fear of Death. Fear of the Wall is confused, now, with fear of Death. Imagine how many minds you could relieve."

Kelemvor disappeared, as suddenly as he appeared. "Of the zillion reasons I'm not with Gann anymore," said Leona to no one in particular, "that, right there, was the zillionth reason I was with him in the first place."

Neeshka let out a sigh of relief and desire, so grateful Gann was alive again. "Don't I know it, sister. A velvet, velvet voice. Charmed the Gods, he did."

Casavir was close enough to hear, and he scowled. Leona walked past him and brushed her hand over his chest as she passed, but didn't make eye contact. "You have nothing to say about this, Paladin," she said. Then she looked up and glared. "I saw what you did in Hell, too."

He managed to keep his stoic face – though hurt that she didn't use his name – and only put out his hand to meet hers as she passed. She kept walking, but lingered with her fingers on his, for just a moment longer before her next steps.

Kelemvor did not return. Instead the party watched as the Wall seemed to shrink before their eyes. It was still bleak, limitless, and horrifying; but something about it had changed.

Each member of the party had a different reaction. They all acknowledged, then, that they never really expected to come back alive. They figured the Scroll's idea of "Safe Passage" was too good to be true. They were proud of their triumph, for all the people they'd saved from the Wall. They could see the Supplicant Gates now off in the distance – easier to get out of the City than to get in – and they could make it there in a few hours. There was no grand celebration; there was even very little talking as they walked. If they were honest, they were all shocked that they managed it. And three among them were wondering, a bit guiltily, if they'd have been better off dead instead.

As they got closer to the Supplicant's Gates, someone said, "Perhaps a party awaits us."

Gann pushed his way to the front, though he'd been too weak to walk much of the way, and had been riding on Honus. He gestured to Casavir. "Keep the Formian army at our side. This is not going to be a party. Not a party at all."

As usual, he was right: just past the gates, where their "Safe Passage" ended, devils and angels both were lined up, angry and ready to attack. There were no more protesters; some of them had fled, and some of their bodies were strewn about, victims of the angry onslaught. Kaelyn dropped to her knees when she saw the carnage around her. "I was foolish to think, on our walk back, that we had done this without losing any life."

"Right now," said Gann, pulling out his staff with weak hands, "we'll be lucky if any of us keep our lives, before we get to the portal." They drew their weapons, formed ranks as they'd practiced, went to work, and prayed. Though each wondered if they Gods would bother to hear them, now, after what they'd done.

Casavir joined the clerics in anti-evil spells, then fought hand-to-hand next to the dwarves. It felt good to swing his hammer again after that iron mug, and he plowed through the devils like heat through butter. Occasionally he moved back, protecting the bards with his shield and checking that all their ranks were standing. He couldn't help it; after being a war leader, once, he surveyed the group with ease and guarded pretty much everyone in the party at one time or another. By the end of the battle each felt they owed him their life. But only he knew he was overcompensating, for almost costing them the victory back at the Wall.

Battling the angels was beyond any of them; they moved like streaks of light. Kaelyn and Fia flew to meet them, holding them off from the rest of the group. Leona hung back with the other archers, but it plagued her, even though she knew she was better placed in the back. There were far too many of them, even though the Formian allies did help quite a bit. Most of the party would already be dead without them.

The party was heavy on spell-casters, which did great damage to the devils, and eventually they managed to thin the evil ranks, to their own surprise. Few of these devils were archers, but several of the smaller ones flew, and Leona's line was attacked directly several times from above. Fiery wings loomed over her, until she shot icy arrows to the sky, to combat the heat. When one of the fiery creatures fell, it was still alive and aimed for her chest. The flaming body knocked her on her back; she instinctively rolled to her belly to quell the flames, but they kept licking her while she screamed for help.

Casavir, who was thinning out ogre-sized devils with Neeshka, wasn't the first to reach her; Honus was. He stamped out the fiery wings and rolled with Leona until her flames were out. Just as Casavir reached her, water poured down from above them and healed her a little in the process. He looked around, and caught Ophala's eye. She gave a knowing nod as she turned back to the wall of ice she'd built to protect the bards. Imagine, he thought. Ophala looking out for his new love. He helped Leona up, and managed to heal her (thanks to the tunic) before he left her side, reluctantly, to clear the front lines again.

Soon only the angels were left. Fierentila, Kaelyn's grandfather, was not among them; but the one who spoke like colors was, and seemed too strong, too supernatural. But Kaelyn took from the air to the ground, and when the enemy angels descended, they were headed for the center of a circle, which just happened to be formed by the Party itself.

Ophala saw them coming down and wasted no time: she ran to Qara, and pulled her over to Sand and Safiya. She made them join hands, and together they cast a protective ring around their own circle, so that when the angels landed, they were trapped there. Once the ring was in place, she yelled, "Back! Jump back!" Everyone did, essentially making a prison for the angels. They sputtered and cursed in very un-angelic ways – not that anyone could understand them given their colorful, musical language. But Kaelyn did, and she shouted back at them in hissing tones that crackled with a snake-like, sagebrush green.

When there was a break in the colors, Kaelyn yelled to her friends, "They think without the Wall they're obsolete. Which is absurd, because these two only assist Gods, and never deal with mortals."

Gann said, "But the angels who do deal with mortals, will do what, now?"

Kaelyn said nothing, but looked back to the angels. He's right. Will they be replaced? Or have to share their roles?

"Tell them," said Gann, "that mortals still have plenty to learn, and soon enough everyone will be well-placed again. There are enough unrepentant evil to build a second Wall. Surely these are patient creatures."

Kaelyn spoke softly to them, in pink-edged tones with her firm sage now only on the edges. They replied, and she frowned.

"They will only leave if my grandfather reassures them," she finally said.

"Fine," Ophala piped up. "If they won't leave, we will. The portal's right here, and it's clear." She had everyone but the wizards jump through to safety, and then she ran through herself, barely closing it before the angels reached

through the ring and chased them in.

"See," said Gann, as he helped Leona to the safe side. "I told you she'd be invaluable."

Leona smiled, in spite of the weight in her heart and body. "I much prefer hearing you saying that when you're not about to die."

He put his arm around her; neither looked at Casavir to see his inevitable flinch. "Now, dear, we have to face living. You know as well as I do that's an infinitely harder thing to try. What we just did is child's play in comparison."

With the Wall's new definition, changes trickled down through angels, devils, and mortals alike. Angels in Kelemvor's service, like Kaelyn had been before her own Fall, could counsel the Faithless as well as the Faithful, with complete sincerity. Hell and the devils didn't like having fewer to torture, but they'd been bested in a contest of might, so they had no say in the changes. The angels weren't happy either, but they always heeded the Gods' boundaries and rules, and obeyed them to the letter. It was clear they were completely shocked that Kaelyn – who had not heeded the boundaries and rules – managed to overthrow a centuries – old idea. Their foundation shook, and it was more this that angered them, than the changes in the Wall.

Casavir destroyed the contract with the Formians, and thanked them for their kindness in reciprocating aid. There was one contract left, but no one mentioned it back at the Academy; it was clear Leona was unwell. Her body was burned and badly injured, though the clerics kept her comfortable enough. It was her nightmares while sleeping, and her inability to concentrate while awake, that had everyone concerned.

"Has she told you what she experienced?" Ophala asked Casavir one night after Leona retired early.

"Partly. But I won't ask further."

"Why," asked Gann. "Because then you'll have to tell her what you experienced?"

"She already knows what I experienced."

"Not all of it, I'm sure. Someone has to get through to her."

Casavir's fists slammed the table, and ale sloshed over mugs. "Then why don't you try?"

"I could. Are you giving me permission?"

A long pause. Casavir didn't look up, but he'd have seen honest, if teasing, eyes waiting for him, if he had. Another long pause. "Yes."

"All right, then. Give me two nights."

After the third Crusade two years ago, which Leona had led, she dreamt almost every night about the Wall. That was the year she traveled with Griz, and the constant motion kept her mental demons at bay. By the time she found Casavir, she'd healed a little from it, but still found herself thinking about it far more than she'd have liked. She'd meet someone Faithless and imagine their soul rotting there. She constantly feared she'd be deemed Faithless, and thrown on the Wall for something arbitrary that offended her God. This made her second-guess her every move for a long time after she returned. She knew she couldn't rest until she tried another crusade, but didn't think she ever could. And then Gann let forth his plan, and she knew it was the right thing.

And now here she was, with the Wall transformed as she'd dreamed it. Sure, Bishop and Horatio had wound up at the Wall; neither was Faithless. Even with the new Wall, they'd have been there – that wouldn't have changed. But there was a fairness in that, a payback for deeds in life. It was about actions, not beliefs, and that resonated with her.

Leona never imagined she'd live to see it truly changed; she had a lot to be proud of. They had triumphed. But her life felt more ruined than before. Seeing the Wall was haunting, but going through Hell was…transforming. Before, she had trouble seeing the world without seeing the Wall. Now, she had trouble seeing the world in the first place. She could not shake the darkness she now carried, and knew it would be with her even in her happiest moments. Thinking of that burden made every moment dull, and all future moments worthless.

The few hours after their triumphant return had her exultant: there were celebrations everywhere, and so few lives were lost that she had all her friends to celebrate with. And then, out of nowhere, she'd feel again Bishop's flesh against her blade – or against her own flesh – and she'd crumble on the spot. The mental bruise was new, yes, but she wasn't sure she would recover like she had before.

That night she retired early, hoping sleep might bring her some relief. Sometimes it did; other times she only relived her worst moments, in Hell and in life. Tonight, though, was different. She felt, through her dreams, like someone holding her hand.

The day that followed wasn't any better, but she found herself feeling less isolated, at least. And then she retired early again, fatigued from the pressure of a day pretending she wanted to live on. That night was full of blue water: water she could talk to, and that would answer her, like a liquid oracle.

"The problem is," she heard herself saying, "there was pleasure in Hell. That's the real Hell of Hell, you know. It's not torture every minute. It's Heaven, stripped away. I feel like a layer of skin was exposed, and it will never grow back."

"Ah, but," said the Blue. "This means there's a little of Hell in pleasure. Which means, that by indulging in it, you acknowledge its presence but you overcome it. By seeking Heaven you banish Hell."

"But just for a moment, it seems like. Then it comes back."

"Moments are all we've got."

That was funny: it was, word for word, the same thing she'd said to Bishop once, back when he was alive and an ally. And he – the true and real Bishop, the living one – had agreed. Having that full circle – what she'd once told him now her best advice while mourning him – served a deep healing purpose. The moment mattered. She must not waste it.

She awoke the next day with a grim sense of resolution. It wasn't as if the sun suddenly appeared; one didn't work through Darkness that way. It was enough today to acknowledge its presence, to know it would walk beside her the rest of her days. And to know she would taste it always, somehow reminded her of the real sweetness, the rapture, that lay underneath it. If her skin had indeed been peeled away, what was left was perceptive, with eyes open. Her knowledge of Hell could deepen her appreciation of her in-between, her mundane, her life with moments of Heaven.

When she entered the pub that night instead of retiring early, she caught Gann's eye. He nodded to her, and then she knew. It was he, the blue oracle, in her dreams, wise and respectful and heroic.

She walked over to him and leaned in. "I have two things to say to you."

"First."

"Does Casavir know?"

He smiled slyly. "I was fully sanctioned, I assure you."

She smiled back. "You were quite chivalrous. Given our history, weren't you tempted, the least little bit?"

"I could never take advantage of you now, Leona. You're too fragile. But you are as lovely as ever."

She said nothing, but just stared at him, remembering all his charm that she loved so much in years past. "The second thing was, Thank You."

"You are welcome."

Leona passed Neeshka as she walked away, who was ironically walking away from Casavir and towards Gann. "Switch!" Neeshka said playfully. Leona pulled up a chair, already weary of dialogue. But he said nothing, just looked her over as if examining a roadmap, deciding which direction to take.

Finally she spoke. "How many of those women did you have to kill?"

"I lost count."

She looked down. "That must have been hard for you."

"Hard is an understatement." He looked away too. "Also, I was drunk."

She looked back up quickly. "Are you telling a joke right now?"

"I am not. It was…well, I'm not likely to repeat it."

She couldn't help but let a genuine smile bubble out. "Well, I do wish I'd been there to see that."

"Believe me, Leona, I wish you had been there too."

She waited a few seconds, and then said, "Horatio?"

"Yes."

They drank in silence for a long time. Finally Casavir said, "I know you don't feel remorse."

"Only for hurting you."

"The same for me."

She sighed. "Once again, we've experienced Hell together. But this time it was The Hell, not a Hell. I don't think…I don't think there's anyone else in all the worlds who could understand me now."

"You mean to say…"

"You're stuck with me." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a scroll. "But like it or not, we have a contract to fulfill, when we get home."

Casavir downed his ale in a very un-Paladin like motion. "Then we'd better make sure we live up to our reputation."

"Learned that move in Hell, did you? That chug?"

He shrugged. "Shall we?"

They did.

Upon the Party's return to the Keep and City of Neverwinter, they found ongoing celebrations throughout the land for both the Faithless and their bravery. At home, they could celebrate. Everyone returned with them, even Kaelyn and Fia, who could reach the angels from anywhere – if the angels wanted to reach them, which so far hadn't happened. Without her Crusades to wear on her sleeve, Kaelyn needed a new start, and decided to stay near the Keep. She hoped to develop a relationship with Kelemvor again, by counseling the Faithless and others close to Death.

Another surprise tenant was Okku the Bear King. He, too, wanted a change. Before he found ground to settle, Okku called on Casavir.

"When we met, you offered your thanks. And a wide hunting ground, and a reason to start again. And I replied that you presume much. But here I am, now, to accept it."

Casavir was happy to oblige, given how Okku had kept Leona safe during one of his prison years. Leona directed Okku to a very special area with water and forest, rarely touched by mankind. Bishop had once shown it to her, and it was her tribute to him, to let a sentient animal roam in it and protect it for years to come. So he settled in his new home range – close enough to aid and ally if needed, but separate enough that he could sleep for decades if he wished.

Casavir hung up his golden tunic, to wear someday when he needed his extra powers. He was actually quite nervous, but knew he had to visit the Keep's temple, the one Leona had built for him to worship Tyr more easily. He was frightened, to face his own disappointment in his God – in all the Gods. To him, They had Fallen from Grace, not the other way around. But he and Tyr had had such an intimate relationship – Tyr had personally blessed his union with Leona, and talked directly to him several times. Who else was lucky enough to have this intimacy with such angelic beings?

He was still resentful, but reminded himself that Tyr was a God, and could do as He wished. All the Gods did as They wished. The havoc Gods could sow – that he'd now seen with his own eyes – appalled him, and he was ashamed of his own distaste.

His muscles remembered well the poses of devotion, but Casavir found himself endlessly distracted by his thoughts. This, he remembered, is why truly holy men don't keep friends, drink ale, or have evenings to look forward to. These albeit fulfilling things are at War with devotion. For a brief moment, Casavir wondered if he had really done right in dismantling the Wall. The world outside this temple was full of all kinds of fun. Fun, that people everywhere would choose over worship. He imagined temples in disrepair, debauchery in public streets, and Gods forsaken. No one, anymore, feared the consequences of disbelief. He feared, but pushed the thought away with all the other distractions as he tried to maintain concentration. He both hoped and feared Tyr would appear to him. He felt like Tyr owed him an explanation – which in itself was absurd – but all the same, he feared what the explanation would be.

He stayed over an hour in devotion, which was child's play compared to his most holy days of service. But he wondered if Tyr might appear.

He didn't.

Casavir gathered up his belongings in his private room – secured by Leona back when the temple was built. He would keep the room, but didn't know how often he would visit it, anymore. He was ashamed and angry that the world outside the doors appealed more to him now. And he was angry at Tyr, for not making this world so appealing anymore.

That was when he saw the Scroll, delicately positioned inside his pile of clothes. Upon its back he recognized the same seal from Kaelyn's scroll: The Gray Alliance. Why was a message from them here, of all places? He'd had enough of the Gods' chess games for a lifetime.

His name was on the outside. Not his proper name; the name "Katalmach." The name, given to him just before he met Leona, means "one who loses himself in battle." Few people called him that anymore, other than in jest; he'd spent too many years losing himself in other, less warlike pursuits. But it was a good name for him: whatever he did, he did with his whole self. He lost himself in whatever moment he stood in – even if he hadn't learned to revel until recently. The only one who called him that anymore was Tyr. He frowned, opened the scroll, and found yet another cryptic note from on high. But not so cryptic that he couldn't understand it, this time.

You, Katalmach, know one of Us well.

Between honoring Gods and honoring Love

You chose Love.

For this

by Divine Tenets

you Fell.

Between Free Will and the Alternative

You chose Free Will

The Gray Alliance supports Free Will

For this

You rise

You are and have ever been

Katalmach

Losing yourself in all you undertake

You are a hero

You are the people's hero

You belong to the people

As much as you belong toUs

Casavir looked around, dazed. He wondered if perhaps Tyr was waiting to see if he packed up his things from this room, for good. He supposed he never really gave up on Tyr – even when he thought himself Faithless, he didn't register that way in the City of Judgment. It hadn't occurred to him that he was part of the Gods' plan all along. But it had occurred to Kaelyn: she'd mentioned it, but he brushed it off. He thought maybe he owed her an apology – again.

What he wanted most, from now on, was balance. He wanted, for example, to be able to heal, but to be able to stand next to Neeshka, his new friend. He wanted to honor the holy while also being in love. He wanted those two things to be the same, sometimes. He wanted to sit at a pub with ale, but treat people with respect while there. He wanted to be lover and fighter both; be righteous without being self-righteous. He wanted to be faithful to the Gods while having faith in people, too. It was a long road back, but he felt like he could.

As he stood to leave and closed his private room door, he slipped the scroll in his pocket and said aloud, "Thank you."

And he was surprised to find two things, as the front door clicked shut: first, that he was glowing again, like a Paladin should. And second, he walked right into Neeshka outside, and didn't make her sick in the least.

The celebration at the Keep was grand, and lasted several days. Leona especially reveled in every minute: she had completely missed the celebration after the Shadow Wars, after her new curse struck her and she woke in a foreign place. She was trying to live every moment with gusto, now that Hell seemed to lurk around every corner. It was a process, like learning to walk again after breaking a leg.

Casavir, too, had some living to go. He had been thrown in the Manor Prison within days of their victory over the Shadows, and the man he was then wouldn't have allowed him to revel much, anyway. But today, things were different for both of them. They'd triumphed in a big way, with no casualties from their team. They all lived, and they were all sane. That alone was something to celebrate.

There was one thing left to do: Ophala was waiting for them. She wasn't the type to push, pry, or make demands: she knew they were honorable, and they would honor the contract they signed. Gann and Neeshka had honored their part immediately, though they never spoke of it to the others – surprising for Gann, who talked openly about pretty much everything else.

Ophala's part of the bargain would be relatively easy to uphold. Dealing with thieves, crooks, and the envious was small potatoes compared to devils, Gods, and Hells. They were sure they could handle it, even without her. At the same time, they did like the comfort that Ophala's underground network gave them. Sometimes monsters were easier to fight than rumors and human desperation. In this battle, she was indeed very powerful.

On the third night of celebration there was lots of magic around them. It hung like a living fog, thick and low in the air. Ophala had rented an extra suite at the Keep for guests and parties, and invited the lovers there after the party, without reminding them they couldn't really say no.

They arrived nervous, but found a party in full swing, and similar magic in the air to the Manor Prison – not exactly, but much like. The mood was jovial, friendly, and sensual, but not overt. It was a gentle hint, like a slightly lusty candle in the room.

When they arrived, Ophala rounded up her friends, who all suddenly seemed to be just leaving. She brushed her lips lightly to Leona's, and grabbed Casavir's hands like a long-lost friend. Which, in essence, she was. Leona was trying very hard not to think of her as his ex, which she also was. She and Casavir, together. Leona had signed off on this. Was she nuts? She was wary of having to share him. But, she admitted, not as much as she feared. She certainly didn't doubt the strength of what they had, and if she had to be honest with herself, she didn't find Ophala much of a threat, no matter what she offered.

Ophala smiled at them warmly. "Will you enjoy this party, while I clear out the room? I'll let you be in charge – for a while anyway." She smiled coyly.

Casavir frowned. Leona remembered that he was nervous, too. And, probably a little angry at Ophala, for insisting on this. And, probably a little angry at himself, for wanting her to insist. Because of course, he did. "Ophala. This is not amusing."

"For whom, love? I am very amused indeed."

Ophala had listened carefully to their few stories of the Manor Prison, and mimicked the lusty buzz around them quite well. Her concoction was more of a drunken revelry flavor, while the Manor's magic muddied the head, like amnesia. The cabin they'd been locked in had urgency to it, whereas here it was more about impulse. Leona had to admit, that she liked what Ophala had done to it. There was a great sense of freedom in the room, instead of being trapped. She almost felt the ground move under her as Ophala heightened the spell – almost like she turned up a dial.

Leona's eyes seemed to glow from the magic surge. With the weight of Death behind them – not to mention literal living Hell – nothing seemed to matter much. Adventurers found it easy to throw around their abandon when any day, they could die. Each of them knew that abandon well; it was always a matter of who gave into it, and under what circumstances. So if they were being honest, it wasn't much of a stretch to give in to it, now.

Leona noticed that Ophala had never made a sexual advance to Casavir; she knew his pledge, and that his love for her would never allow him to stray. But she understood now, with the clarity magic brings, that she herself had been weak link. She was more likely to give in to Ophala than Casavir was. She was, after all, the one who agreed to the contract.

She said to Ophala, "To what end do you tease? Why does it matter now? We're here. Is this really about the secrets of the Prison? The contract is signed, either way. You can tell the truth now, you know."

Ophala gave her blank stare. She realized she was talking far too much.

Leona continued, "Is it that you want Casavir so badly, but know he would never come to you unless if I also did? Am I a means to an end?"

Ophala's expression took on a wicked schoolgirl's, taunting another. "Is our Leona that fragile, that she wants to know if my attraction is real?"

"She's not 'our' Leona," Casavir said.

"No," said Leona. "I want to know what you want out of all this. What do you expect will happen tomorrow, and the following day, and the next? Just where do you see yourself fitting in here?"

Comprehension dawned over Ophala's face, softening the wicked tease.

"I'm often indirect to get what I'm after. That doesn't mean I can't be direct. If you want to know what I want, I will tell you." She looked into Leona's eyes, quite serious now. "I do want a taste of the Manor Prison. I want a glimpse into your love and your sex. I want to have a monopoly on that, and I want to be a part of it. And I do, in truth, think it will make us all safer, if I have it. It's a political move, first and foremost, and a selfish one, second.

"But I think you are lovely, and you already know I think you" – she turned to Casavir – "are – forgive the old pet name, dear – pretty. Being with the two of you would be…a pinnacle, given all I've seen and tasted." She continued as the two of them looked slightly softened.

"What do I expect?" She smiled, genuinely unabashed. "I tell you this: I don't want to tend flowers with the two of you. Otherwise I'd have taken you for a husband years ago, Casavir, when you offered. No, what I want is to share an art. If we were all painters we would do it without a second thought."

Casavir's face hardened. "What you speak of is an intimate act. It is not a public art."

Ophala smiled and cocked her head. "That depends on who you talk to."

"But you are talking to us."

"No, I am not. I am not talking anymore. I sense what you want, plain as day and same as me, and with this magic…it's unmistakable. I know you, Leona, miss a woman's touch, after the Manor Prison. I know Casavir misses me. This is not complicated math."

The lovers shuffled, uncomfortable but out-played by her logic. She spoke the truth, but they wanted to pretend it wasn't true, that Casavir missed her not at all and Leona was content. Ophala threw up her hands and started pacing.

"Why do you humans act like I am robbing you? Do you have finite lust? Is it going to get all used up, that you have to hoard it so? Can you not see what you're denying yourselves, and me? You are short-sighted. And I am already bored." She started to walk away, but Casavir caught Leona's eye, and in it he saw…regret. He stepped in front of her.

"My pledge is to Leona and Leona only. Do not confuse the sinful yet protective deed I committed – by signing this contract – to be a pledge to you as well. But I will not stand in the way of my Lover's pleasure."

Just like the Paladin, thought Leona. Make it sound like you're doing it for me. Well-played. She stepped around behind Ophala, and tucked her hair back behind her pointy ears. "We are not short-sighted," she said. "That is why we are here in the first place." And she turned Ophala's head and kissed her: not a brushing of lips like before, but a true lover's kiss. When it was done, Ophala turned to Casavir and kissed him too, as if sharing a secret she was just told. Carried by the magic and a long thread of desire, their bodies intertwined the way the drowning cling to lifeboats. Arms and legs and faces were lost and found, rhythmic and harmonic, in perfect pitch for each other. They were in tune, in sync, and in the moment.

And then, only love remained.