Apiyatum paced around a small cavern chamber as he ran his finger across one of the bladed edges of his ceremonial dagger that had been put to work for the past couple of hours. He attempted to resist grinning as he felt that the blade was still razor sharp, confirming that he had no need to take time from his duties to sharpen it. His patron, the Son of Victory known as Gilgeam, was a patient deity but Apiyatum dared not delay a second longer. He turned his attention to a marble alter surrounded by his fellow clergymen drawing the last of the runes that covered the alter.
Chained to the alter was a young, scrawny draconian woman with skin made of fine ocher scales. Her cheek frills, eyes, and bridge of her snout were covered in tar, a way the Untherites have begun marking their slaves, and infected wounds covered her face where the piercings marking which clan she belonged to formerly occupied. A member of the strange yet blasphemous race known as Dragonborn that infested his people's land after the Spellplague caused them to swap places. For the past couple of years the Dragonborn and his fellow Untherites have warred. While the attempts have proven to be fruitless, Gilgeam is far from over.
Apiyatum continued pacing around waiting for his acolytes to finish their preparations. The silence that filled the room gave away that his acolytes have completed their part of the ritual. He turned towards the unconscious Dragonborn and frowned. Until she woke up, he could not proceed with the final ritual. As he looked up he saw one of his acolytes, a young man named Ubarum, approach him. His shaved head matched that of Apiyatum. A strong contrast to the weighty, curly hair that their people used to posses.
"The poison has worn off by now. The lizard should awake any moment," stated the acolyte in a hushed tone.
"I take it that you have secured it's head this time?"
"See for yourself," Ubarum gestured to the alter where the Dragonborn's head lay. As Apiyatum looked closely he finally noticed the two large wooden blocked firmly secured to either side of the woman's head.
"She will still be able to look down. But as long as you remain to the sides of the alter, her breath attack will not be able to reach you. Not that she will likely be able to use it anyway," Ubaram nodded his head toward a nearby hammer. Before Apiyatum could respond, the sound of the chains pulling taught echoed around him. His grip around his dagger tightened until his knuckles turned white. The time has come.
Erlidrish Filxeth groaned as her eyes fluttered open. She immediately coughed as she became aware of how dry the inside of her mouth was. Her eyes immediately shut tight as her mouth opened wide in a scream, only for nothing to come out as a sharp pain shot through her upper chest. Her body instinctively lurched upward but the chains secured her to the cold marble slab. Her rags did little to provide any warmth from the chains or the marble. As she opened her eyes she could clearly see the robed figures surrounding her. Beneath the robes were the bald-headed Untherites, the original occupants of the land that her people accidentally dropped upon as a result of the Spellplague. She attempted to look around to see how many there were, but the wood blocks prevented her from moving her head.
"You have awoken just in time, little lizard," said a man with his hood lowered, moving just barely out of her field of vision. He was clearly the eldest of the bunch but his clothes gave little away as to his overall ranking. In his hand he held a heavily decorated dagger. The blade was a sickly black and green and appeared to have waves of energy flowing along it.
"I have no love for the Underdark scum. But I must admit that they make tranquilizer like no other. I've even taken on studying Undercommon so that I can translate their recipes,"
Filxeth kept her gaze fixed upon the blade, the words coming from the man turning into a blur as her thoughts began to race. Where am I? How many are there? Who is the weakest? What weapons are closest to me? Filxeth attempted to calm her breathing but every inhale only gave her another sharp pain in the chest. Broken ribs. Even if she could get herself free there is no way she could run out of here. With no breath weapon, she was completely helpless. Filxeth began to feel her eyes water in what was likely the first time in hours, if not days. I'm alone with no way out.
"It has just hit you, has it not? You are about to become a source of fuel for my master's minions," Apiyatum studied the blade taking in every little wave that flowed fluidly among the blade. "I suppose that is a preferable end to what any other death would bring you. An eternity in Kelemvor's Wall of the Faithless. A fitting end to you godless folk,"
Filxeth bared her teeth towards Apiyatum. A crushing force slammed into her upper chest and her head lurched up, stopped by a chain around her neck, as a shallow wheeze escaped from her stomach. Her vision blackened for what felt like several minutes. As she writhed in pain Ubarum flanked her opposite of Apiyatum with a hammer.
"The lizard is getting uppity. I think we should introduce her to her new master," exclaimed Ubarum.
"Hmph, I suppose we should not tarry any longer," Apiyatum looked around the chamber confirming that everyone was in their proper place. Satisfied, he gave a nod towards Ubarum.
After Filxeth's sight returned once again the humans around her had begun chanting in some sort of language that she didn't recognize. It sounded like a language that they should not have the capability to even pronounce. As the chanting continued, the Untherites slowly raised their volume causing the sound to excessively echo unnaturally around the cavern. The bottom of Filxeth's vision began to turn red as the runes on the alter glowed a bloody red. Apiyatum continued pacing around the alter, still being cautious of being downrange of her breath.
Before Filxeth could think of anything else her body was crushed down to the alter by a force she could not see. She could feel the air leave her lungs yet no sound would come out. A cold, creeping form slowly gripped at her in a way she could not imagine. It continued constricting her like a snake with no signs of slowing down. It was like an icy claw tightening beneath her skin. Was it grabbing her soul? The chanting turned to shouting but the words were completely indistinguishable. All she could hear was a loud whir of voice, yet Apiyatum with his dagger remained perfectly clear in her vision. He slowly made her way toward her with his blade firm in his right hand. As he came closer, the icy grip took more of her body and she could feel some sort of force tugging at what she thought was her body, like a spider tugging at a fly caught in it's web to have it's meal. With tears running down her eyes she finally managed to shut them tight. Her mouth opened to scream for help from a god. Any god. To the Nine Hells with her clan if she got exiled for not wanting to go like this! Yet, she could find no voice to send off her plea.
"To you, Grazzt! I send off her spirit! May her soul fuel your might for the glory of Gilgeam! True ruler of Unther!"
Filxeth's body became still as she felt a sharp force in her upper chest. Her eyes shot open and she saw Apiyatum towering over her. His eyes were open and bloodshot and a toothy grin covered his lower face. Filxeth attempted to look down, braving a look at what he had done to her, but her vision was quickly fading. A sickly laugh sounded around her that drowned any other voice that may have been present in the cavern.
She felt her body slowly lose feeling starting from her legs. The stench of rot filled her nostrils causing her to retch. Next was her lower chest. She no longer felt the cold steel of the dagger that had been stabbed into her. Her mouth suddenly filled with the taste of milk and she found herself back home, eating a meal with her infant clutchmates. Yet, she could still feel some part of her interior body being ripped toward the ground below the alter. She would try to grab the alter to keep herself from falling downward but she had lost any feeling of her arms. She felt sharp points prick her face, forming the holes so that her joyful father could place her clan piercings into them. All that was left was the last breath of dry air that she had in her lungs, and she was quickly losing her grip on that last bit of refuge from whatever was waiting for her. Her vision was filled with nothing but the human grinning in some sick form of glee.
"Congratulations on completing your training for the Lance Defenders, Filxeth! I'm sure you'll make Clan Erlidrish proud!"
Terror filled what little of Filxeth still remained in the world of the living as she felt a choking hold grasp at her throat. The grasp forced out the last of Filxeth's life-giving air from her throat and her vision darkened. Knowing that her end has come, Filxeth gasped her last words that would forever make her a disgrace to her clan.
"Bahamut, please, no-"
Part II
Erlidrish Vompis shivered as warm oil was poured over his scaly hands. He tightened his fingers together as much as possible only to find it was not enough to stop the viscous fluid from forming a puddle between his feet. The bitter smell flooded his nostrils causing his eyes to water more than they already were. A gentle push pressed against his back.
"I know this is an unpleasant task, sweetling. But stalling will only make this last longer," said a scratching voice. Vompis turned his head and looked up towards the towering woman above him. In the darkness of the clan's funerary chamber, Matriarch Nyulkar of Clan Erlidrish's sunken skin gave her face the appearance of a dragon's skull. A hint of her ancestry coming from a black dragon as well as her age. Upon her back was a great-sword, the sign of her status among the Dragonborn of Tymanther. A white ribbon was tied in a knot on the hilt making it one of a sea of white ribbons that filled the room. Each scabbard or grip of a weapon bore the same ribbon. Her body was covered in dirty scale mail that was missing entire chunks.
Vompis looked forward where a stone table was surrounded with candles that bathed light onto the lying body of what used to be his clutchmate, Filxeth. A white sheet covered all of her body except for her shoulders and head. A queue of Dragonborn slowly walked past her in a solemn line. Each Dragonborn made sure to stop and smear their oiled fingers onto her closed eyes and mouth. Vompis felt his legs begin to shake and he looked away from Filxeth to one of the few surviving members of his clutchmate, who was currently working as an usher. His clutchmate turned his helmeted head towards Vompis and nodded. It was his turn to proceed.
Vompis quivered his head back to Filxeth and forced himself into a marching walk. The stiffness of his walk caused even more of the oil on his hands to drip through his fingers or run down his arm and drench his sleeves. Eventually, his vision was filled with candlelight and he found himself at the corner of the stone table that held Filxeth. The smell of embalming fluid flooded his nostrils and he resisted the urge to cover his snout with a sleeve to shield his nose. He looked towards the seating and he could see the first few rows of Dragonborn staring directly towards Filxeth. Most of them were his immediate family but other clan mates filled the front rows as well. He also noticed a few Dragonborn wearing the armor of the Lance Defender's elite bat riders, their metal bat wing pins shining even this far from the candlelight. Just three applications of oil. It would only take a few seconds. Just hold it together and don't break down in front of your clan.
The tears in Vompis's eyes did little to block Filxeth's face from entering his view. Her gray, cold skin was adequately covered with makeup and her eyes and mouth were able to be positioned in a way to make it look like she was in the middle of a peaceful sleep. Three agate studs jutted from each side of her snout signifying her belonging to Clan Erlidrish. Vompis spread his fingers apart, dumping any excess oil down his robes, and applied two fingers to Filxeth's left eye.
"Honor to the clan in life," whimpered Vompis as he ran his fingers downward. He transferred his fingers to her right eye and did the same motion.
"Honor to the c-", an abrupt cough escaped Vompis's mouth as he attempted the verse.
"Honor to the clan in death,", a mass of oil ran down Filxeth's cheek as he proceeded with the application of oil. One more step to go.
"Rest now, not as a slave chained by death, but as a warrior freed from suffering.", Vompis shivered like a leaf as he traced his fingers upon Filxeth's cracked lips. He wiped his own eyes to clear his tears only to blind them further with the oil that still covered his fingers. His knees buckled beneath him as he he lost any sort of weight or feeling in his head. A pair of hands held him steady and he felt himself get rushed to the other side of the room where he was shoved into an alcove. After was forced upon a bench he was instantly enveloped by a thick, soft blanket and was constricted by a tight embrace. He allowed the darkness to engulf his vision and his body became limp.
Vompis's eyes groggily opened as he was awakened by a hot, sweet smell. He found himself tucked in his own bed back in his family's apartment. Next to his bed was a small table with a bowl of thick porridge. He recognized the sweetness as a particular herb that was commonly applied to food to help Dragonborn sleep better. He shakily got up and walked past the bowl of porridge and instead went for the bowl of flat bread that he kept in a hidden alcove for some snacking when he should be in bed. The stale bread crunched inside his mouth but was enough to satisfy his stomach so he could at least walk steadily again. Ignoring any other activity inside of his home he stepped out of the front door into the salty air of Djerad Kethendi, the port city of the Dragonborn nation. Three smooth white pyramids with golden points towered into the sky and the Alambar Sea was in view. A cool breeze flowed through Vompis's head tendrils as he shielded his eyes from the sun. Closing the door as silently as possible, he began moving towards the port region.
As he stumbled along the cobblestone path, a booming voice filled one of the many squares that dotted the town. Snapping out of his daze he looked up towards the source of the voice. A hulking scarred human in chain mail shouted his message to any passing dragonborn. Next to him was a shield adorned with the picture of a skeletal hand holding aloft a balance stood in the middle. As Vompis listened in, the man's message rang into his ears.
"You may be mighty and steadfast, dear Dragonborn! But you are on your way to ruin and eternal torment if you continue down your god hating ways! For Kelemvor's judgment applies to all who occupy this plane and his punishment for the Faithless is quite harsh! Is your pride worth having your soul forsaken to the Wall of the Faithless? Is your clan worth having your very essence that makes you exist being ground into oblivion along the bottom of the Wall? Is your ignorance worth having your soul used by demons who rip out the unfortunate few condemned into the Wall? This was has taken many of your people's lives and their souls have been forfeit! But it is not too late for you, for our gods are many! Surely, there is one that will fit your lifestyle or that of your clan!"
A gasp echoed through the crowd of humans, dwarves, elves, and any other non-dragonborn race that was present in the port city as the preaching man fell silent. A bloodied stone clattered to the ground, breaking the silence that had formed among the square. The armored man turned his face with blood trickling from his forehead to the source of the stone. Directly towards Erlidrish Vompis.
"Shut up, god-worshiper! We have heard enough of your god's threats!", cried Vompis as he picked up another stone only to be grappled by a dwarf merchant.
"Are you crazy, dragonborn! You just attacked a cleric of Kel-", the Dwarf shouted a curse as he narrowly dodged the lightning that sparked from Vompis's mouth allowing him to get back up and charge towards the cleric. The cleric remained still, not even bothering to wipe more of the blood from off of him. Vompis clenched a fist and readied to hurl it straight towards the god-worshiper's face. He certainly won't kill him, but he is going to make sure that the zealot takes his message elsewhere. The fist was reaching his target. Then he saw nothing but dust.
Vompis coughed up fine dust as he fell prone to the ground. The air had suddenly become icy cold causing him to instinctively rub his exposed arms. The land was a dull gray and had swirling dark clouds. The only light provided was what little moonlight could get through the clouds. His heart sank as he looked upon the landscape. No living body or plant was in sight. The only evidence of life was the shriveled trees that dotted the landscape. There was no sign of any building that had any sort of resemblance to what he saw in Djerad Kethendi.
He then turned behind him and his eyes met those of Filxeth. He fell backwards onto his rear as a solid wall of Dragonborn bodies formed in front of him. The bodies were all withered and pale if they even had any skin at all. Despite their draconian faces being contorted to barely being recognizable their stature and moans were undeniably those of total agony. Sickly green vines wrapped around the Dragonborn, securing them to each other as well as the wall that they covered. At the bottom of the wall, the Dragonborn bodies were turning to the dust that covered the ground. Vompis's head shot left and right at the wall that now spanned farther than he can see.
He sprinted towards Filxeth and attempted to wrench away at the vines that secured her, shouting her name as if to wake her from a horrific nightmare. Her eyes continued staring blankly towards him as the vines refused to loosen her from their grip. He reached for his dagger and tied the funerary white ribbon on the hilt to his wrist for extra security. Grasping the vines directly, he thrust the point directly into them. The dagger was successful in splitting the vines but it only formed two separate lengths of vines that could operate independently.
Sensing a new body to cement into the wall, they grasped at Vompis's wrist and wrenched the dagger from his grip causing it to dangle from the ribbon. Vompis yelped as the vines pulled him directly on top of Filxeth. Before he could regain his composure the vines wrapped around his back and secured his arms. He attempted to lightning breath the vines off of him only to find that he had already used it to free himself from the dwarf. He looked around, eyes wide in desperation, as he felt the air being forced out of his lungs. The vines slowly turned him around until he was facing out from the wall and he felt his back and shoulders become weighted with gravel and rotting flesh and bone. He strained to turn his head against the tightening vines and wall until he once again looked upon Filxeth. He attempted to look around again only to find that his head has been fully cemented into the wall, cursing him to an eternity of staring upon his clutchmate. With no way to move his body and his lungs becoming permanently compressed he cried out in panic until he heard a whisper reach his ears. He focused his attention to the only thing that he could look at. Filxeth's mouth slowly moved and her labored words came out quiet, yet clear.
"In time, our souls will die not as slaves chained by death,", Filxeth whimpered,
"But as warriors freed from suffering."
Part III
Erlidrish Vompis's body laid on a hay mattress completely locked in a fetal position. His gold eyes stared outward as blood veins closed in towards his pupils while his mouth remained gaped open. His lips had begun cracking from dryness since no one dared put any liquid in his mouth. Vompis's petrified face remained unchanged even as a silver clawed hand softly brushed against his forehead.
Above him, a silver-scaled dragonborn wearing blue robes hummed a soft melody as she ran her fingers over his forehead like a concerned mother checking for a fever. Her eyes had a milky look to them which caused many people clear from her path as she walked through the fortress-city with the assumption that she was blind. Her scales were ragged on the edges and had a tarnished look to them. A clear indicator of old age for any Dragonborn.
She caressed his face with her wrinkled hands and spoke with a silk smooth voice that belied her age, "You whom my light falls upon, return to the place you desire. Let the silver moon guide you home. Trust in my radiance, and know that all love alive under my light shall know my blessing. Turn to the moon, and I will be your true guide."
With each passing minute the woman continued repeating her call. Eventually, the room was filled with the sound of wheezing and coughing as Vompis sat upward from the mattress. He yelped as the sudden movement shocked his stiff body causing him to crumple onto the floor and writhe in pain. The woman quickly placed her hand against his back and sent a soothingly warm rush of magic that loosened his muscles to prevent any further injury. She then grabbed a jug full of water and gave it to Vompis who immediately began drinking it a bit quicker than he probably should. After spending several minutes catching his breath and orienting himself to his surroundings, Vompis found that he was back in his own room. He looked towards the woman and immediately noticed her lack of piercings that would identify which clan she was from.
"Who are you and how did you get into my quarters?", Vompis demanded.
The woman responded with a chuckle, "I go wherever the moon shines."
"The moon doesn't shine inside of here! We're inside a massive fortress-city! Wait, how did I even get back here? I was in Djerad Kethendi which is a day's trip away!", he began rubbing his forehead as he attempted to rationalize his situation. The woman sat down on the floor in front of him but keeping sure to keep a comfortable distance in between them.
"Calm, hatchling. Those details will be revealed to you eventually. But for now, I wish to address a more serious matter. You've had something on your mind for quite some time and due to recent events that thought has taken you over."
Vompis shrugged, "I lost my sister to the war. People tend to get angry when they lose a loved one. Why do you care anyway? You don't belong to any clan so you must not even be from around here."
The woman pointed upward, "On the contrary, I have been here since the first of you fell from the lands of Albeir."
Vompis's eyes shot around the room as he attempted to recall the legends of the different clans. His eyes then shot open and he crouched into a defensive stance though his shaking legs gave away his fear, "I know you from Clan Kepeshkmolik's legend! You're the Lady of Silver! The one the humans refer to as Selûne!"
The silver dragonborn lowered her head in what appeared to be a small bow, "You remember the stories of your people well. Indeed, I am Selûne. The one who granted safety to Tymara of Clan Kepeshkmolik, which led to the founding of this very city."
"And you came back here to me, why? Or more importantly to me, what do you expect of me to give you in return? I don't have a soul to give."
Selûne let a gasp out of her mouth as she placed both of her hands over her heart, "What a hurtful thing to say about yourself! I assure you the souls of your people are just as good as the souls of anyone raised in the lands of Toril."
"Good for enslaving, perhaps. That seems to be our ultimate fate. Just look at Kelemvor's Wall."
Selûne remained quiet as she considered his words. She then got up and motioned Vondis to follow her, "Come with me. I wish to discuss about the Wall and how it affects your people, but I want to do this in a particular place."
Vompis was not sure what brought him to follow the goddess. The relationships between the Dragonborn and the deities of Toril were quite shaky at best. The few Dragonborn god-worshipers that existed were more often then not outcasts who got their clan piercings removed from them. The same fate would likely await Vompis if his own clan elders found out about him walking with Selûne despite her connection to one of the most powerful clans among all Dragonborn. Regardless, he continued on.
While the walk itself did not last long Vompis began to tremble as they went down a certain tunnel that only led to one destination, the catacombs that belonged to his clan. The granite doors displayed carvings of ancient Dragonborn warriors locked in frozen battle against a dragon skeleton which resembled a notorious Dracolich from the days that the Dragonborn were slaves to dragons. The handles tied together with a white ribbon, suggesting that a body was interred inside quite recently.
"I can't go in there,", his mouth quivered as he struggled with the next sentence. "It is forbidden for me to enter."
Selûne performed a few quick gestures before spreading her hands apart as if prying open a thick curtain, revealing a portal that led to the interior of the catacombs without requiring her to disturb the door, "You're a terrible liar, little one. But I understand your nervousness.", she pointed directly in front of her, "Stand in front of me and I'll shield your eyes."
Vompis let out a deep breath and did as he was told. He felt a familiar cloth cover his eyes and recognized that it was the same cloth that covered him as he fled from the funeral. They walked through the dimly lit hallway with walls covered in alcoves. Most of the alcoves contained wrapped bodies of the honored dead. Many of the bodies still have the heads exposed where oily residue ran down their eyes and mouths. After guiding him down what felt like miles worth of hallways and steps, Selûne stopped him in front of the alcove containing the body of his sister, Erlidrish Filxeth.
Vompis gasped as his eyes laid upon Filxeth's resting corpse. He began hearing her voice inside of his head repeating the same line that he heard her say as he was being put into Kelemvor's Wall, "Our souls will die not as slaves chained by death. But as warriors freed from suffering."
Selûne firmly grabbed his shoulders and talked softly, "What are you thinking?"
Vompis attempted to respond with confidence, but his voice quickly began to waver as he continued looking at Filxeth, "S-something she said to me. About how w-we will die as warriors freed from suffering. After we get ground to dust by the Wall."
Vompis began feeling warmth flowing through his shoulders and his breathing became a bit easier as Selûne pushed a calming spell through him, "What do you know about the Wall of the Faithless?"
"It's where anyone who doesn't worship a god gets sentenced to for a lifetime of eternity. The ultimate fate of most Dragonborn since we hate the idea of worshiping a god."
"You don't want to go through that, do you?"
Vompis tightly shut his eyes and shook his head, causing his head tendrils to make a rattling sound, "I don't want the people I love to suffer in it! Filxeth was a kind girl who got killed as a living sacrifice like cattle! Yet, she has to suffer for eternity just because she didn't stroke a god's ego enough? How is that just?", Vompis fell to his knees and grabbed the linen covering Filxeth's body while sobbing. Selûne remained where she stood, a small smile on her face as she finally saw the love that Vompis had toward his clutchmate. After Vompis eventually calmed down enough, she knelt next to him and gently combed her fingers through his head tendrils.
"How would it make you feel if I told you that Kelemvor hates that wall as much as you do?"
Vompis sniffled as he responded, "That's impossible! He built it so that he could-"
"He did not build it. It was a torture tool made by another god that he was forced to keep around.", responded Selûne with a chill in her voice, "I promise you that if he was allowed to, he would get rid of it in a heartbeat. Besides, that Wall is not the final fate that your sister has met with like you think."
Vompis remained silent until he looked towards Selûne with red eyes, "I don't understand. Are you saying that we are not going to the Wall even though we don't worship a god?"
"The rules certainly make it seem that way. But there is a bit of a special case with your people. You see, that rule was made before the Spellplague that brought you here to our world. I know Kelemvor well. He has always been a fair judge and he was well-aware that it would not be right to hold you to the same rules considering the unusual scenario that brought you here."
"But I-", Vompis attempted to inquire further but was immediately hushed by the Lady of Silver.
"Patience, little one. There is more to this. There is a second part to the judgment that you probably did not hear about. It's a small, commonly overlooked rule but it is quite important for your people. According to the rules that Kelemvor must follow, he is only meant to judge the souls that do not get claimed by a deity. Of course, we gods would collect our followers.", she chuckled and booped Vompis's snout causing him to scrunch his face. "But they didn't say that we were limited to only picking up our own followers. We can technically offer a place in our respective realms to the souls that never worshiped us should we so choose."
"But how can you make such an offer to a Dragonborn who hates being attached to a god?"
"Simple. I don't make the offer. Instead, a Dragonborn offers the soul to come with her to the afterlife I set aside for you Dragonborn."
"A Dragonborn? But who?"
"I'm sure you know of the name Thymara?"
Vompis's eyes shot open as he realized how the operation worked, "I see! So you send the founder of our country in your place to give us an option other than the Wall!"
Selûne nodded, "I made a deal with her upon her arrival in this world. All I ask for in return is for your people to continue thriving in your new home and you have done just that. Sure, you have reached hard times but I have confidence that you all will once again fight your way to an independent life. Just like your ancestors before you." She pulled Vompis close to her and began rubbing her cheek frills upon the top of his head. The sign of affection among Dragonborn, "Your people have kind hearts. I will never let your souls rot away within that wicked wall, nor will I force you to abandon your ideals in return."
Vompis buried his face into her soft cloak as he sobbed violently. Selûne remained silent as she continued nuzzling the top of his head until he sufficiently calmed down. She then whispered to Vompis, "She misses you so much, you know."
"Will I be able to talk with her? You know, before I pass on?"
"Perhaps, when she is ready. She was not in good shape by the time I got to her. While the soul cannot be destroyed completely, it can still be damaged by various means. Given the nature of her death, she will need some time to fully heal.", she wiped the tears from the bottom of his eyes, "She will feel better much faster once you can find peace within yourself."
Vompis looked back towards Filxeth, "If that's the case, then I promise that I will make that happen! I won't let my fear of the Wall hold me back anymore!"
Selûne smiled and firmly grasped his shoulders as she began to slowly fade back to her own realm, "You are already making her a happy girl, Vompis."