Sabal sighed contently, arms around Aly's slender form. This was how the world was supposed to be: small and closed off for just the two of them, bare skin against bare skin with worries far, far away. The cocoon of blankets was warm and she could feel the wizard's soft, sleeping breaths against her ear. The wilder smiled faintly as she looked up at the ceiling. Life had begun to return to normal after their battle with the celestials, or at least a new normal. She was still an inquisitor, but the dynamic had changed. No longer did it feel like a cage, but instead a vocation. Alystin was adjusting very well to having someone else in her space to stay, no longer protesting when Sabal shifted her books off of every available surface or otherwise picked up after her. Nede had caught them in one of those moments and immediately jumped on it. She's domesticating you, Nedelyne had teased Sabal.

And honestly? The wilder was just fine with that.

She'd started seeing Revered Lirayne and Revered Llolfaen more often now, mostly for business but also the occasional social call. They were turning into fine allies as House Druu'giir and House Duskryn began more of a conversation. That was particularly thrilling for the Matron of House Druu'giir, who had something of an admiration for the city's eighth house.

According to Lirayne, everything was at least smoother sailing. Zesstra was alive but being thoroughly punished, Siniira was back to her stern self and running both Lirayne and her daughter ragged, and things were balanced again. Nothing was perfect, of course. And then in the Church, Yvonnel had returned largely to her normal self over the course of the past sixth months. Sometimes Sabal caught her looking off into the dark corners of the chapel lost in thought, an undefinable expression on her face. The wilder always wondered what it was that the Revered Daughter saw there, because clearly she was looking at something.

She still remembered what Yvonnel had said to her about Aly. The Abyss will have its pound of flesh from her in its time, the priestess had said. It was a chilling thought, but one that sometimes came back to her at times like this. She smoothed over her lover's thoughts, as much to reassure herself as the sleeping mage. Then she let herself fall out of focus again, returning into her thoughts of everything that had happened in the past sixth months.

The Abyss seemed quieter now. Perhaps it was just waiting for something, or perhaps whatever machinations were moving in it had stilled. She was hardly an expert. Either way, she felt secure in the fact that she had Aly now.

Any further thoughts she had on the subject were completely disrupted by a nip at her ear and a soft hand running up the inside of her thigh. Her whole body shivered in response. "Aly!" she hissed out, taken by surprise. It wasn't an unpleasant one, but she'd been absolutely positive her lover was asleep just a moment before.

Her answer was a throaty laugh and a soft kiss to the top of her shoulder. "You were sharing your thoughts again. You worry too much," Aly said, eyes alight with amusement and a certain fire that was definitely familiar to her lover.

Sabal rolled onto her side so they were facing each other and let her forehead come to rest against the mage's. "I just want to keep you safe," the wilder said softly. She caught Alystin's hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss to slender fingers. "I'm glad all this is behind us. Things will get better."

"Mmm. They already are better," the mage said with a smile. She looked more awake now. Earlier, Sabal had pried her away from her books and dragged her to bed despite her many protests that she was busy. She'd melted quite quickly in the face of the wilder's brand of persuasion. "You're here. Now, about that thinking thing..."

"Yes?" Sabal said, lips quirking up into a smile. She had a feeling where this was going. The definite change in the tenor of Aly's voice spoke volumes. Right now the mage's voice sounded low and husky again, which meant only one thing. "Let me guess: you want something."

Alystin tangled her fingers in Sabal's hair and drew the wilder in for a scorching kiss. Once they had to break apart to breathe, she murmured. "I want you. And if you could be persuaded to do that amazing thing with your tongue again..."

The inquisitor laughed at that, pulling the wizard in close. "Oh, I think that can be arranged."

Malcanthet sauntered through the blossoming gardens to the sava board that sat in an adjoining room, its doors standing open to allow the sweet smell of flowers to drift in. She could see Valyne there, a pensive figure looking down over the alabaster and onyx figures arrayed on the board, each glowing faintly with a magical light. Some were brighter than others, casting a soft orange-gold light like candle flames. The red-headed Queen of Succubi dropped into the chair opposite the silent demon lord, taking a moment to study the elegant lines of her former pupil's face. "So you spoke with Lloth, I take it? I hope she's still thoroughly on our side."

"Indeed," Val said without looking up. Her eyes focused on the small figurine of a favored soul surrounded by a black, glittering aura. "I think I won her over with the gift of her vessel. The ritual works well for her. Not permanently, but now and again she can walk in the Material Plane to wreak havoc as it pleases her."

"I laud your grasp of the arcane arts," Malcanthet said with a smile, leaning forward. "Now, o great strategist, where do you plan on going from here? You should know better than any that we are a very long way from storming those golden gates."

Val glanced down at her fingers and studied the claws that she'd had very neatly trimmed and manicured. They were still razor sharp, but not ragged and unkempt like her father's. She took a moment to simply sit quietly and think, knowing Malcanthet would wait patiently for her answer without badgering her with questions. "We wait," the Lady of Sacrifice said finally. "Things have been set in motion that will take millennia if not longer to resolve. We have all the time in the world. Certainly, the celestial realms aren't going anywhere."

"I expected more energy from you, Valyne. More recklessness. You continue to impress me."

Valyne looked up and arched an eyebrow in exactly the same manner that her mortal mother always had, in that way that belonged to the Duskryn women. "And waste this opportunity by rushing?"

Malcanthet just smiled. "I know, I know. We've only just begun."

Six months. It was hard to believe it had been six whole months. For Lirayne, the days had passed in the blink of an eye. The surface was a strange place to stand, watched from above the glittering lights of millions of stars woven into a tapestry of black adorned with swirling purples and blues. A bright August moon shown down from above as fireflies danced in the woodlands and a soft breeze rustled grass painted in silver by the light from above. The soft chirping of crickets was the only thing that broke the silence as she stared down at the two cairns here, each marking the grave of a person she had come to know and even love. At least, as much as a drow could ever love. Would it happen again or had the spark that blazed to life in her chest become nothing more than a dying ember?

She wasn't certain what to do or say at a grave. Drow did not dwell on the dead, seeing them ultimately only as failures who had lost the fight for survival. She looked down at Galen's grave, his name spelled out in drow lettering across the largest stone. She had burned it there herself with magic when the time had come to bring his body up here. It wasn't right that he be kept from the moon and the stars and the sun that he had often spoken of in life. He was born under them. Better then that he lie beneath them in death. It was strange, to think that this patch of earth was all that remained of him.

The thoughts of him came to her easily. The way he would just smile at her when she read aloud to him, the smell of him that lingered on his shirts when she buried her face in them, the soft touch of calloused hands against her smooth skin...everything she hoped that she would never lose even though she had known so much better. He had been more than a lover to her. If he had had the lifespan of a drow, if he had not followed Torm's dictates, she would have happily spent the rest of her life with him and only him no matter what anyone said. She would have had half-drow children and been as content as was possible in the Night Beneath. Even if it meant giving up her nobility and even her home in Menzoberranzan. But all that meant nothing now.

He was gone.

Lirayne had always regarded her passion as a strength. It fueled her anger, her pride, her hatred. All the things in life that befitted a drowess in life. But now she was realizing how much of a weakness it was too, almost paralyzed by the force of her grief. How long would it take the pain to fade? Or would it linger longer the more she clung to her memories? She hadn't decided whether she wanted to forget or to remember every little piece. Every brush of lips or touch of hands.

The wind picked up a little, stirring her white hair. "Mother, we should go," Llolfaen said, her own voice carefully soft and gentle. "If we stay too long, we may be found by the elves or humans."

"You're right," she said softly, even though she didn't immediately move. Part of her wanted to stay standing there until she turned to stone. After a few more moments, she looked up to see her daughter's concerned gaze focused squarely on her. She knew the young priestess was hurting as well. But Llolfaen knew better how to hide her pain and wall it off to be used as fuel later. Lirayne envied her that strength—likely she'd learned it from the Matron. "Let's go."

They turned and started their walk back to the tunnel mouth even as the first rays of false dawn's light started to touch the horizon and the moon sank towards its own slumber. For the moment, the world seemed still and almost serene even if they were not.

End

Author's Note: A very special thank you to skywiseskychan for reviewing. If I write another one, you can bet you'll have a dedication.