A/N: I'm working rn, so updates are going to be painfully slow.
Liila grumbled as she stormed back into Castle Nathria. She'd woken in Theotar's arms, almost all the way to the bridge leading to Sinfall. While he had been quick to assure her that she was safe and her mind once again her own, that very mind of hers had gone elsewhere.
To the dredgers that had gotten caught in her shadows, to the guarantor or two who had as well.
She had been so busy fighting to make sure Denathrius couldn't access her holy spells that her shadow magic had been an open book for him to gleefully choose from, and she had done little to stop him, figuring that the venthyr would be better acquainted with shadow magic anyway and would be able to repel it more aptly than they had actually managed.
It hadn't been until Theotar had come wading through conjured darkness to call her back that she had realized just how much damage was being done while she waged her own personal battle in her mind.
By then, it had been too late. She had tried to pull it back, but even as she tired to rein in her own magic, Denathrius had threatened to worm his way deeper into her mind, reaching for her holy spells. She had blocked him from there as quickly as she could, and he had once again had free reign over her shadows.
And then…
And then he had been gone.
He had been out of her head, and Revendreth had felt…different.
She's not sure she would call it dead per se, but it was…muted. Like a candle that had been burning brilliantly abruptly dimmed down to a mere flicker at its wick.
Liila's head fucking hurt. Denathrius wasn't whispering in her mind anymore, telling her to harm the ones she cared for—or at least felt ambivalent toward—but the damage had been done, and it would take time for her to recover from being possessed so completely by a god.
This was exactly what she hadn't wanted to happen. It had happened before, with other gods, N'zoth being the most powerful of them, so she had known the damage that could be done. She had fucking asked if this was possible and—
And there was no point in dwelling on things that would just piss her off more. Not when she was already in such a foul mood thanks to the pain wracking her. Every rune in her curse was itching and aching. Her lungs still burned from her earlier suffocation. Her throat was sore from trying so desperately to gulp down air that had felt like needles.
And her skull felt like hammers were bashing it from the inside.
At least it wasn't as bad as when N'zoth was fucking around up there.
He'd done some real damage. Damage that, as much as she hated to admit, she had still been recovering from.
Maybe that was how Denathrius had gotten in so easily…
Between N'zoth and her curse, anyway…
Liila stopped when she found Inquisitor Vilhelm standing in front of her, arms crossed, pronounced frown in place. "You shouldn't be here."
"Where are the fallen?" Liila asked, ignoring his comment. When he didn't answer immediately, she rolled her gaze up slowly to meet his. "I will fear you again."
The inquisitor paused at that, staring down at her with an unreadable expression. Just as she suspected he was ready to call her bluff—pains aside, she was also exhausted from trying to fight Denathrius' will—he instead motioned over his shoulder, to a side room. Despite this, he didn't move, and Liila had to make a point of walking around him to get to where she'd been directed.
When she got there, she stared at the figures laid out, side by side, cloths covering their faces.
Five rebels down. Liila felt sick. She didn't remember taking down that many herself. She appraised them with care, inspecting each. A few gashes on some that indicated they had fallen to means other than her shadows.
The most notable thing about those bodies, however, was what wasn't there. None of the bodies sported traces of the diseases and plagues that came so readily to Blood's and Kisses' call. None had great swathes of brittle frostbite from Shawn's spells, either. And there were no marks from being raised to fight their own.
Liila wasn't the only mortal who had managed to hold back her more dangerous skills.
She cracked her neck one way and then the other and then stretched her arms out in front of her, palms out, fingers laced.
This was going to hurt.
Her curse never liked it when she healed, but it was considerably worse right after she died. All those death runes took time to settle, took time for the magic they emanated upon activation to dissipate. They poisoned her spells. With shadow those runes made them more potent—a ghoul's strength effect, as Blood had once explained. With holy, however… The poison of the death magic either outright negated her healing spells or twisted them into something painful for both caster and recipient. It was why she hadn't been able to bring back her guild leaders when they'd all fallen on the Broken Shore.
And by the time she'd been able to heal, it was far too late to call back a soul.
Her Light spells would be useless now, but perhaps that didn't mean she would be. After all, the Light was detrimental to Revendreth's denizens. Perhaps if she focused on shadow, the tragedy of the Broken Shore would not repeat itself.
With luck, only she and her fellow mortals would have extended suffering from this last fight. Her magic would hurt to call—Light or Shadow—thanks to her death.
And she had. The air had denied her, and she had suffocated, even as Theotar and Dark Enchantress Devahia had attempted to keep her alive with spell after spell, wave after wave of anima that had delayed the inevitable a few seconds less each time.
She would need to find Devahia and apologize, as she was fairly certain she'd thrown her into a wall.
None of these corpses were Devahia, were they?
A quick glance revealed that there was no dark-haired woman among the dead. Good.
Perhaps after she attempted to fix this, she could make amends with the dark enchantress. She would ask Theotar what sort of thing could smooth things over.
A gift perhaps.
That would have to come later, of course.
She glanced around and then looked at Inquisitor Vilhelm. "I need some of that anima."
She rather expected that he would argue with her, tell her that he was not about to hand their hard-earned prize over to some unstable mortal. Instead, he called one of those transporting what was left to them and motioned for them to bring it over. While they did, Liila took out her spellbook and flipped through a few pages.
When she first got to Revendreth, this would have been impossible. She would have tried to use her standard resurrection spell and—even if it worked—that would have resulted in scarring the minds of those she sought to save, as well as damaging the bodies.
She'd been working on this with Kaletar for a while now, mixing shadow and anima in a way that might mend, while following the basic principles of what she used for Light. Both also came more readily to her than the Light anyway, so if she could develop shadow-based healing beyond the generic mending spells cultists had figured out over the years, it would be game changing.
For now, Liila hoped that would be enough to let her heal during a time she usually considered to be a dead zone for any holy spells.
If she had taken these lives and there was nothing to be done, then she would carry that sin, but if they could be saved…
She had to try.
She found the spell she had been working on. It was theory at best.
"I assume you will need help?" Theotar's voice came from her side, and she looked up at him, surprised that he had followed her back to the castle, though she shouldn't have been. He was far too supportive to let her handle this alone. Sitting there looking up at him, she could just barely feel a curl of reassurance from him, the faintest sliver that he would be there for her, no matter what.
As he gave her a confident grin, she nodded. If he boosted her magic, perhaps raising the dead would not be so impossible.
"Can you?"
"I will help you channel whatever you need," he replied, ever smiling.
Inquisitor Vilhelm simply motioned for her to do what she needed.
Liila nodded, cracked her shoulders, and then began to draw on her magic.
She started with holy, pulling the on the Light until it made her runes ache. And then she twisted it, curled it in on itself, let shadow fill the frame before banishing it. Theotar helped her draw in the anima.
She closed her eyes, willed the shadows and anima to blend, something she understood far too well with something she tentatively dared to brush against. In her mind, the spell came together, and she whispered it quickly, feeling the way the magic didn't seem quite ready to bend to her will.
And then, abruptly, she felt stronger.
It was more than just Theotar, she was sure.
She opened an eye and glanced back to see Inquisitor Vilhelm had joined them, offering his own anima in time with Theotar and at least one guarantor who had been nearby and come to help. The excess anima swirled as it responded to their direction. Inquisitor Vilhelm's frown returned thrice over when he noted her attentions. His brow pinched together, and he made a motion with his chin, as though telling her to hurry up.
The spell shivered and twisted, trying to undo what she was making it into. Shadows did not like to heal, and anima did not bring back the dead.
Today, if she had her say, they would.
The bodies before her rose from the ground, floated in the air as anima seethed into their injuries, restoring them, making them whole.
She pressed it harder, willing it to call back what was no longer there, willing their souls to—
It stalled.
Pain lanced through her. Her curse flickered to life, fighting against her, fighting to smother her magic. She nearly lost her focus, but then something else joined in, something swelling and powerful and ancient.
The remaining pieces of the spell fell into place, and when Liila finished casting, the magic swept out from the five laid out before her. That force swept through the room and the walls and whatever lay beyond, a nova of shadows and anima, rippling into the realm.
The bodies dropped back to the ground.
Liila fell to her knees.
Inquisitor Vilhelm cursed softly behind her.
And then, the first of the fallen jerked upright, the cloth falling from her face. She looked utterly bewildered, gaze snapping around as her claws reached for a sword that was not on her hip.
As she focused on Liila and then those behind her, she stilled, tensing as though ready for a fight. A word from Theotar eased some of that tension, but not much. The venthyr shook her head. "How did…where am I?"
"What do you remember, my dear?" Theotar asked, trotting over to her as though he had not just taken part in the same utterly exhausting resurrection ritual that Liila had. As the venthyr answered, others began to stir as well, sitting up, jerking up, all confused to how they had left the basement.
Liila barely heard the questions they were asking. Between her aches, amplified by her defiance of her curse's restraints and the memory of that flare of ancient magic…
Had the Accuser joined them?
Or had it been Renathal?
Liila glanced over her shoulder, saw that Inquisitor Vilhelm was also on the ground, breathing heavily. He offered her a short nod before she turned her attention beyond him, just in time to see another figure watching from the doorway.
The Stonewright stood behind them, expression impossible to read. She was already wending away by the time Liila noticed her. By the time Inquisitor Vilhelm looked back, she was gone.
Liila shivered, thought about the power she had felt, the power that had enabled the resurrections.
Had it been…?
Why?
When she tried to stand, her legs gave out, and she crumpled back to the floor, the world swimming. Even so, she batted away Theotar's hands when he tried to pick her up.
"There were dredgers, too…"
"They turn into muck when they die," Inquisitor Vilhelm said. "It's harder to gather them—"
"Then we go…" Liila fought against the darkness at the edges of her vision and the gentle hands on her shoulders. "The basement…"
There were shouts from down the hall, a figure appeared in the doorway, saying something Liila couldn't quite catch.
Theotar caught her face in his hands gently as he turned her attention to him and then booped her nose with a finger. "You reached them already, my dear."
Liila's brain felt fuzzy. "Who?"
"All of them."
Liila sat up abruptly, feeling like there was something she was going to do. Something important. Her body ached, and she looked around groggily. Even as she tried to remember what it was she had been going to do, a cup of tea appeared before her, its steam rising lazily up to her face, warming it just barely to the point of discomfort.
Her head hurt.
Taking it, the clawed hand holding the teacup drew back. She stared into the swirling, dark liquid.
It reminded her of something…
Something important…
Mud.
Abruptly, her eyes snapped wider, and she nearly dropped the tea in her lap as she looked around.
The dredgers.
"My dear, I already told you," Theotar said with a pointed sigh, sitting next to her and lithely catching the tea before she could scald her lap. "You already brought them back."
Liila's attention honed in on him, barely registering Tubbins' wave and Gubbins' greeting. Instead, she stared at her soulbind, unblinking.
"Do have something to drink, my lovely Liila. You need your strength."
"They're…I…what?" She felt like she should have been able to follow what he was saying better, but that damned throbbing in her head would not subside.
"Drink, and I will catch you up," Theotar said, lacing his fingers in his lap and looking down at her, smiling pointedly as he waited. True to his word, it wasn't until she took a sip of tea that he began to speak. "That spell of yours was quite impressive. The five you targeted with that mass resurrection of yours seemed to serve as a focal point and perhaps it would have stopped there, but…" He shrugs. "I do not pretend to know where you got all that power, my dear, but it was more than sufficient."
"The Stonewright," Liila murmured, and then looked up at him. "She was there." Her mind swam. "I think."
Theotar merely smiled as he considered it. "A curious turn of events, if true."
"Why…why would she help us?"
"Perhaps to garner some favor?" Theotar produced a second teacup from seemingly nowhere as he mused. "Perhaps she wants you indebted to her?"
"Why me?"
"Because you can bring back the dead."
"But I couldn't without her."
"You could have," Theotar replied, nodding solemnly. His solemnity wore off quick enough, and he smiled at her, eyes flashing. "I do hope you remember enough of that spell to write it down. It will be quite the boon if you can teach it to others."
"A way around that 'true' death?" Liila asked.
"So it would seem," Theotar said.
Liila shifted from where she sat as she finished her tea, mind turning away from the dredgers she had slain during her possession. "How is Renathal?"
"Brooding," Theotar's good humor slipped.
Brow pinching, Liila shook her head. "What? Why? What's wrong?"
Even as she asked, her mind went back to when they had first gone to Darkwall Tower, to persuade the other Harvesters. To when he had spoken of his sire, to when he had exposed a wound he hadn't meant to, and Liila had finally begun to understand just how deeply Denathrius' betrayal had affected him.
Sure enough, Theotar's gaze lowered as he sipped his own tea. It felt like an eternity as he closed his eyes and savored the taste. "He has lost his father, his mentor, his god, my dear Maw Walker. That alone would be enough to crush one's spirit, I imagine." He finished his tea and then looked at Liila, giving her a soft smile. "And then there's what happened to you—"
Liila stared at him blankly. "What happened to me?"
"You died."
"I die a lot," Liila replied. It was her turn to frown. She swung her legs off her bed, pausing when they did not drop down as they should have. It was then she really took the time to look around realized that she was not in the mortals' chambers in Sinfall at all, but instead in one corner of Theotar's parlor. He had made a bed for her with a small mountain of blankets.
Grace let out a soft boof from where she lay, near the foot of the blankets. She stared intensely at Liila, expression unreadable. Liila reached out to offer the gargon a pat on the head, only to nearly fall face first into the floor.
Theotar caught her, pulling her back and saving her from a broken nose that no doubt would have resulted from Grace's well-meaning attempt to dart forward and catch Liila herself. The gargon moved past where Liila had fallen and to her, plopping down and putting her head on Liila's lap with another quiet boof. The stone was heavy in her lap, but comforting nonetheless.
Another, more distant whine sounded, and Liila looked past her immediate audience to find Blisterback was watching her from the doorway. He trotted over as Theotar assured him that Liila was fine.
Liila ran her fingers through Grace's mane and reached out to stroke Blisterback's muzzle. Even so simple an action sent her world spinning. She barely heard as Theotar chastised the two, telling them to give her space and let her rest.
He helped her back onto her nest of blankets and brushed her hair from her face. "Sinfall is rife with activity, and we thought you would rest better out here, so rest you shall." Even as Liila tried to argue that she wasn't that tired, Theotar held up a hand, one finger pointed to her. "I will make you a deal, my dear. You close your eyes and count to ten. When you are done, I will let you get up."
Despite attempts to argue that that was a ridiculous deal, Theotar would not budge on it, and finally, Liila acquiesced.
"Relax your muscles, dear lady. You look like you expect someone to spring upon you where you lay."
Grudgingly, Liila made an effort to loosen her muscles, letting tension flee as she closed her eyes and began counting.
She made it to two before darkness swept up to claim her.
Everything hurt.
It hurt to the point that there were no individual aches unless she focused on them, and there was no point in that.
She didn't want to pay attention to the open wounds gaping on her left arm or the way the coarse ropes bit into her wrists and neck. She didn't want to feel the pangs of hunger that gnawed at her from the inside or the breaks in her toes and feet—each one done individually with careful and deliberate care.
It was better to just push against the pain, to push it down and away, to bury it. It was better to focus on… there was nothing else to focus on, was there?
Her memories had been a casualty long ago and there was nothing, no one she could think of whose memories might be a balm against what was happening now. And so instead, she stared blankly at the whorls in the wood overhead. She knew them by heart at this point. Each grain, each color, all a nauseatingly permanent fixture in her brain. If she closed her eyes, she could still see it just as clearly as if she kept them open. It was ingrained in her.
Just like the sound of metal against metal.
Knives, daggers, swords.
Sometimes just broken shrapnel.
Her head felt like she already had pieces of something shoved in there, distorting the pain in the rest of her.
A figure cam into her peripheral vision, humming contentedly as the sounds of sharpening metal drew closer.
She didn't look at him.
Her tormentor loved her reactions, no matter how slight, and she would not feed his sadism.
She focused on those miserable whorls overhead, recommitting them to memory until the figure drew close. Like the ceiling overhead, she knew his wicked face, knew his glowing eyes and blackened lips, knew the sneer that would twist into a hideous grin if she dared cry.
Eyes open or closed, she could not escape that face.
Nor could she escape her fate.
Abruptly, he leaned forward, face drawing to hers quickly.
However, as much as she knew him, knew every line on his face, every scar every pockmark, she was not met with the hellish visage of the rotting human who had tormented her so relentlessly during her time as a captive of the Scourge.
Instead, white hair spilled around her, a curtain to block out all of the world save for the face at its center. Hateful red eyes watched her with contempt before, quite abruptly, the face's lips stretched jerkily into a hideous grin.
"He's here, you know. And I'd be happy to reacquaint you."
The laugh that came from somewhere beyond that wall of white was one that made her blood freeze.
"Did you miss me, Miss Lightswill?"
With a shriek, Liila shoved her hands forward, trying to push her assailant away. Trying to push Sire Denathrius away before he could find whatever crypt her tormentor had been kept in.
Cloth tore. Her nails hit something hard and she raked at it, trying to force distance between herself and whatever was looming before her. She shrieked again when arms wrapped around her. She wouldn't go back to that place, wouldn't let herself be subjected to that man's torture.
Not again.
Not again.
She clawed the arms attempting to bind her. She kicked and struggled, twisting her body to wriggle free, ignoring the way her pains throbbed and warned against the continued abuse.
She would not go easily.
She would not…
"Maw Walker, calm down! Liila! It's—"
"Let her go, you fool!"
In a breath, she was free and she jerked away, darting to her feet and putting her back to the wall that stretched up before her. She whirled around, eyes wild, searching for a way out, past her tormentors. For a way…
Slowly, the voices around her became clearer. The shadows were familiar, as were the shapes in them.
Finally, recognition settled in.
She wasn't in that awful place where her tormentor had kept her.
She was in Theotar's parlor.
And it wasn't Denathrius or her tormentor there, waiting for her to let her guard down to strike.
It was Nadjia and Theotar.
Liila grew still, struggling to even out her breathing. With a shaky had, she reached up to brush back some of her wild hair, only to stop when she realized that she had cracked two of her nails and her hand was bleeding. Worse, some type of cloth was ripped and twisted tightly around her fingers. One was already turning purple.
Something moved in Liila's peripheral vision and her gaze snapped back up. Nadjia knelt a few feet away, hair a mess, sleeves sporting half a dozen tears in them. Theotar had her by the shoulder, holding her back as she met Liila's gaze with one that spoke more to surprise than anything else. With a smile, Theotar released Nadjia and started toward Liila. "There you are, my dear friend!" He clucked his tongue. "I had not realized it before, but you get as lost as I do, don't you?"
He stopped short as a warning growl sounded.
Liila blinked, trying to force her mind to settle from her nightmare, trying to focus on the world around her, the present.
Both of her soulbinds seemed to be sending her soothing vibes, and it was helping, at least a little.
Another growl sounded.
Letting her gaze drop, Liila realized that Grace was between her and her soulbinds. The gargon was crouched low, ready to attack if either of them got any closer. Even low, she was still tall enough that Liila should have noticed her first. She slumped back against the wall, chest still heaving.
"It…" Liila took in a shaky breath, tried to steady herself. "It's okay, Gracie."
Instantly, Grace looked over her shoulder at Liila. Her tail wagged tentatively, as though to let Liila know that she had her back. Liila nodded to the beast, and Grace turned to her, stone skin grating against the wall as she sat beside Liila. She was still partially angled between Liila and the others, still gave Theotar a warning look when he moved.
Liila swallowed. Already, she felt more grounded, though as she looked around, her attention turning back to Nadjia, she paled, noting that her sleeves were not just torn, but bloodied as well. "I hurt you—"
"It's not my blood," Nadjia said quickly. "You lashed out at the wall and, well…" She rolled up her sleeves to show a few dark marks, but no broken skin.
Liila's mind felt sluggish as she tried to remember her shadow mending and banished those hateful marks. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine! I get more in friendly scuffles any day," Nadjia assured her. "If I'd been genuinely worried, I would have subdued you."
Theotar crossed his arms, notably displeased. "You will do no such thing!" He looked back at Liila and then turned away. "Let me get you some tea."
"I'm okay," Liila started, stepping away from the wall and then stopping when her legs still trembled. Grace let out a soft boof and Liila looked down at her. "Are you okay? I didn't scratch you, did I?"
The gargon's tail wagged from her attention and lightly nudged Liila with her head, as though to assure her all was well.
Liila knelt anyway, both to appraise Grace and to give her shaky legs a chance to regain their strength.
"Grace is fine," Nadjia said, moving closer—carefully—and holding out her hand for Liila's. When Liila held her hand out, Nadjia began unwinding the fabric around her fingers. "I threw one of your blankets at you to slow you down."
"I'm sorry," Liila murmured, guilt coiling inside of her.
"It. Is. Fine," Nadjia dismissed. "You warned me about these, remember? It's my fault for not taking you seriously."
"It's not your fault." When Liila's hands were free, she cast a heal on herself, though she surprised herself when she used shadow as the base and found that it felt like a cool balm on the hot pain in her digits.
Nadjia moved away, back to a small table and chair nearby, and picked up a smallish item.
Liila glanced past her. Blisterback stood attentively beside Theotar as he fiddled with his cauldron, watching her with a clear look of concern.
Liila slumped against Grace, fingers twining gently with the beast's mane.
Nadjia fiddled with a trinket, frown firmly in place. The item in her hands was most notably not of venthyr make, and Nadjia sighed as she held it up and then set it down on the table beside her. "I got it from the brokers. It's supposed to play a very soothing melody, one that the night fae use to banish memories from their wildseeds. I got it a while ago, when you had a different nightmare. I thought that one had been bad, though you never woke from it. Not like…this time."
Liila's head still hurt, as though Denathrius had just been in it, rather than…however long it had been. A day or two? Liila conjured a stronger healing spell and winced against the way it nettled her sleeping curse.
Nadjia leaned toward her. "I'm proud of you." When Liila blinked, confused, Nadjia gave her a wide grin. "I could feel you struggling during the fight, holding back the Light. You could have turned us all to ash."
"That would have been most unpleasant," Theotar called. Nadjia nodded, and Theotar smiled brilliantly from beside his cauldron. "I, too, was most impressed with your willpower."
Something in Liila's chest tightened and she looked down.
This time, she was not waking up with a set goal in mind, to undo the deaths she had caused or to save the dredgers. This time, her mind was ablet o replay what she could remember of the fight, to think of those who hadn't fallen in battle.
"I hurt you both."
"Denathrius hurt us," Nadjia clarified, giving her a stern look. "So no guilt. By the Maw's pull, you even brought people back. I wish I could have been there for that. I was helping sweep the castle for souls."
A pride curled in Liila's chest, foreign, yet stronger than most of the echoes of feelings she usually got from her soulbind. Theotar came over, offering her some tea. "It should help with that headache."
"And I'll see if I can't get this damned thing to work," Nadjia said, settling back in her seat and resuming her study of the trinket she'd been messing with. "Those nasty dreams of yours have been bad enough that I've actually seen a few flickers…"
Liila frowned, feeling guilt bubble up. She had been relieved that they wouldn't see her dreams when they originally soulboun, but to think that they could see better now… She didn't want to think about that. "How is Renathal?"
"Still brooding," Theotar murmured, waiting patiently for Liila to take the tea from him and then sitting beside her opposite Grace, as though he thought she might forego her tea if he didn't keep a watchful eye. Blisterback trailed him and joined their little half circle after eyeing both Grace and Liila. "I'm sure he will be pleased to know you're awake."
Grace let out a soft boof, as though assuring her that everyone would be.
Liila sat patiently through two cups of tea, pleased with the way her headache did seem to be ebbing, at least a little. However, as Theotar got up to fill a second pot, Liila rose after him. Nadjia caught her arm as she walked past.
"Just where do you think you're going?"
"To Sinfall." Liila frowned when Nadjia did not let her go. "I wanted to—"
"I don't imagine you're sturdy enough for any activities you might be thinking of. At the moment, at least," Nadjia replied, giving her an evil grin when heat rose to Liila's ears. "Go back to sleep, maybe you'll have a more pleasant dream this time."
"Unlikely," Liila replied, trying not to think of any of her dreams about Renathal, because that first one had hardly been the last. The most awkward one had happened when she'd been napping in Bastion and a steward had woken her, concerned as Nadjia had been for her racing heartbeat.
Nadjia's expression switched to sympathy, but she did not let go of Liila's arm.
"I wanted to check on Devahia," Liila said. "To apologize for tossing her into a wall."
Nadjia tilted her head back where she sat so that she could look down her nose at Liila. "And once she's waved off your concerns? How quickly will you run to see the dark prince?"
"I want to check on him, too."
"If by check on, you mean—"
"Don't be crass," Theotar interrupted, now standing in Liila's way with a fresh cup of tea. "Our dear lady has no need to detail any intimacies she fancies. Unless she wants to." Even as Liila nodded thankfully at him, he set the teacup in her hands and smiled. "Though I do agree that you do not have the vitality for anything too rigorous at the moment. Tell Renthal to be gentle."
Liila nearly choked on her tea.
With a cackle, Nadjia finally let Liila's arm go, rising and tugging her cloak over her shoulders so that it hid most of her, including the damage to her sleeves. "I'll walk you over. I've need of a wardrobe change anyway."
"I'm—"
"If you apologize again I will beat you with that teacup."
Theotar reclaimed Liila's cup as though to save it rather than her. "You shall do no such thing!"
Liila took her time in the halls. First, she headed to the mortal chambers and gathered a few things for a proper bath. Someone—likely Theotar or Nadjia—had cleaned her up after that catastrophe of a fight in Nathria's basements, but Liila had still slept for days three days since.
Once she was fresh and clean, in crisp, unwrinkled robes with her hair falling freely down her back, she did just as she said she would and sought out Devahia. The dark enchantress had seemed most surprised by the apology and merely waved her away, as Nadjia had predicted.
It had been as she turned to go that she'd noticed more than a few venthyr were watching her. Their whispers ceased when her gaze happened across them. One offered her a smile, the other two merely gave her unreadable stares, much like when she'd first ridden Grace.
As she went to the main hall, quietly willing her headache to get even a fraction better—the world wasn't swimming by any means, but she did feel…frail—she noticed more and more than those around Sinfall were watching her.
Overtly.
This…it wasn't as though she had done something they were trying not to judge, but rather as though they didn't know what to make of her anymore. As though in the few days she had been unconscious, she had become something…more than the mortal who aided them for the last few months.
It was a welcome distraction when Scotch caught up to her, offering her 'important' notes and flying along slowly with her, as though they fully expected her to start dictating something for them to do.
Liila would have rather held off on such things until after she had a chance to talk to Renathal, but Scotch was being so dutiful that she glanced through her letters quickly, noting that none were from her prince.
"Dragonlily."
Liila paused in the main hall, noting as she looked up that Renathal was nowhere in sight, and then turned to find Blood standing a bit behind her. His armor looked like something that had been cobbled together in the last minute—not at all his style—but aside from that, he was whole.
She reached out and hugged him. "Are you to be joining us, then?"
Blood snorted. "Not a chance." He slung an arm over her shoulders and dragged her into the hall, away from prying eyes. Scotch did not seem at all concerned with Blood's few attempts to get him to leave, and finally, Blood just accepted that they would have an audience as they ducked into a small, unused room. "I'm going to be spending eternity here, so I figure I should enjoy some gentler afterlives before I reach this one."
Scotch let out a bark of a laugh.
Blood turned his head toward the stonefiend, a glowing eye narrowing. Apparently, he had lost the other one in the Maw, along with half of his face. Were he a living creature, that would have been the end for him, but as a walking corpse…
"Where are you headed?"
"Bastion," Blood replied. As Liila nodded, he motioned to her. "You should know, there's a rumor that you're hiding from the Archon."
"What?"
"Apparently you failed some task she gave you?"
At that, Liila crossed her arms. Is that why people were regarding her so oddly now? "I did no such thing."
"The rumor is that you were supposed to purify some temple and decided it wasn't worth it."
With a scowl, Liila shook her head. "Who's saying this exactly?"
"Some of our fellow mortals," He shrugged. "I don't know if the locals are saying so, too, but—"
"We're not," Scotch said, indignant. "We know the Maw Walker would not shirk her duties."
There was a pride in his tone.
"Devos wonders why you never came back to Bastion, too—"
"Devos?" Liila said, expression twisting to a frown. "The definitely-betraying-the-realm paragon who definitely wanted me dead is upset I never came back to Bastion?"
When Liila had first gotten to the Shadowlands, Bastion had been her first stop after escaping the Maw, and it had been miserable. The temples had been attacked almost as soon as she got there and by looking at a memory from the one leading the attacks, it had been clear that she had been taking orders from someone. From someone with a very distinctive helm and voice, who had shown up shortly after viewing the memory and nearly smote Liila and the few she was with.
Liila had tried to alert the Archon to what had to be treachery on Devos' part, but had been met with rather strong disapproval.
"I take it you're not up-to-date with what's been going on in Bastion."
"I've pledged myself to Revendreth," Liila replied, and motioned around them. "I've gone to the other realms occasionally but I admit…I don't like Bastion. I try not to go there unless I have to and try harder not to linger. It's too fucking bright."
"Well, Devos made her move," Blood said. "She fucked stuff up pretty good before getting chased into the Maw. Which is where she saved me." He lets out a low laugh that echoes oddly from under his helm. "Apparently, she crossed paths with Tyrande Whisperwind, too. She said they made a pretty good team before parting ways."
Liila stared at Blood for a long, quiet moment. "You're telling me Devos is good now."
"I don't know about that, but I'd say she's against the Jailer," Blood grinned. "She wants to help the forsworn in Bastion, so I think I'm gonna see if there's some way that I can do that…save them from the path she put them on, repay her for what she did for me." Before Liila could wish him luck with that, he pointed at her. "Which brings me back to you. Supposedly you were supposed to help fix the Temple of Courage?"
"What I was supposed to do is get the Primus to fix it," Liila muttered. She scowled, not wanting to relive the entire clusterfuck that was her introduction to the Shadowlands. "He is gone. The house that can help Courage is gone. I sent word to Millie to see if she could do anything, and I moved on."
Millie was another priestess she had worked with during her time fighting the Legion, and as Liila said the name, Blood's shoulders drooped.
"Well, damn."
That stole the thunder out of Liila's budding fury, and she cocked her head. "What's wrong?"
"I was hoping to drag you along with me. I don't really know any of the others in Bastion," he paused, glancing toward the door and then shaking his head. "And there's no way I'm staying here."
"I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for our paths to cross," Liila offered, reaching out and hugging Blood again.
"When you go looking for Shadow and the others in the Maw, call me," Blood said, patting her head and then stepping back. "I'll be heading back there soon enough."
"Once your headache goes away?" Liila asked.
Blood nodded, eye widening briefly. "You too?"
"Mmhm."
"May we both recover from our latest possessions," he offered, pointing at her.
She pointed back. "With due haste."
With a sigh that puffed frozen air out from his helm, Blood turned away again. "I guess I'd better get out of here. Got to go pledge myself to the Archon. See if I can't work off a few sins before I get here."
"Good luck," Liila offered, following him out into the hall.
"I can't believe he tried to poach you for the Ascended," Scotch muttered, watching him go. As they hovered there beside Liila, they glanced over at her. "And no one here thinks you owe the Archon anything."
"Thanks," Liila said, flashing a quick smile to the stonefiend.
Scotch merely nodded. "With the lengths you go to to make things right, there's no way." When Liila quirked a brow, surprised by the creature's sincerity, the stonefiend merely looked back at her, as though he hadn't said anything odd.
Liila looked back down at her messages, noting that most were from friends who had come out to the raid on the castle and were wishing her well as they went back to Azeroth to assist with other facets of the upheaval caused by the veil being torn asunder, namely how the Scourge was sweeping out from Northrend. A couple said they were going to be joining different covenants and that they fully expected to see her around.
It broke her heart a little, to see that so many who had set down their arms and promised themselves rest were back in action and pushing forward.
She wondered if perhaps, like her, they had given up on having a proper retirement, and if perhaps she had been the force that had pushed them back into the fray. She had reached out to them to form the raid, after all.
She had rather hoped that most wouldn't come, even if that would be detrimental to the cause. Of course almost all of them had.
The two times she nearly walked into someone while skimming her letters, Scotch had called out for them to watch it, and Liila had looked up to apologize, only for them to offer her assurances that everything was fine.
It was…
Odd.
Increasingly so.
If they didn't think she was slacking off in some manner, then why was she getting so much attention…?
It wasn't…
Surely they weren't looking up to her. Metaphorically, of course.
Being seen as some hero was the last thing she needed, especially after what happened last time her reputation went in too positive a direction.
She resolved to ask Renathal about any new rumors when Scotch had shrugged and said that he hadn't heard anything defaming lately. However, when she reached his office, it was empty.
Not in the main hall, not in his private chambers…
Liila was tempted to knock on that door at the back of his office, the one that led to his room. If he was there, though, he was probably sleeping, and didn't want to bother him.
For all she knew, he was as tired as she was.
After all, he had fought the god of the realm.
And won.
She remembered how Theotar had said Renathal was brooding.
In a last bid to find him, Liila had wandered back to the main area and down to where she'd spoken with Devahia, to see if the Curator might know where he was. If she told Liila he needed his privacy, so be it, but if not…
The area was a bustle of activity, with a new soul yelling from the other end of the chamber about how he would be respected.
Even as the Curator told Liila that Renathal was dealing with some matters regarding the security of the realm and would likely be well preoccupied into the evening, the Accuser stepped up to join them.
Liila was never fond of when the Accuser came over, mostly because of the judgmental looks that she always sported that said she knew one's every sin and would be more than happy to assist with one's atonement.
However, when Liila glanced tentatively up at her, willing herself not to run the other way, she found that the woman's usual scowl was not nearly as deep as usual.
This was possibly the closest thing to a smile that Liila had ever seen on the woman's face.
And it at least seemed to be directed at Liila.
What the fuck was going on?
"Maw Walker, if you're feeling up to it, perhaps you could assist me with something."
Liila tilted her head, waiting for details. Just as the Accuser opened her mouth to elaborate, an angry shriek sounded from down the hall, echoing around them and making Liila's ebbing headache resurface sharply.
As her ear twitched, the Accuser motioned toward the source of the noise. "That."
Liila had to wonder if Kael'thas Sunstrider's atonement was really that important.
She understood that every soul deserved a chance at redemption—and for the most part she agreed with all that—but…
The former prince of her people simply refused to shut up.
That, coupled with the absolute behemoth of a headache that would not leave her, made her want to just throw the damned fool into the Maw and be done with him.
The Tithelord was working with Maldraxxus. They had discovered this, and Liila had assumed they would finally be able to go back to Sinfall to report what had happened, when it had turned out that Kel'thuzad was in Maldraxxus, too, and Kael'thas had not taken that well at all.
As it was, he was ranting and raving about liches and vengeance, and Liila had stopped listening to him an eternity ago.
Add to that the very vocal gargon that was sitting beside her and whining incessantly, and Liila wanted to just say fuck all of it and go hide in some corner of Ardenweald until everything calmed down.
Maybe switching covenants wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Vrednic, the beast beside her, let out the most pitiful, grating whine.
Liila had never thought she might dislike a gargon—the beasts were so completely adorable—and yet Vrednic was doing a pretty good job of fraying her last nerves.
She tried to give the creature the benefit of the doubt, tried not to think about how much she wanted to scream back when it wailed at her.
Instead she had tried to focus on something else.
Like the damned soul that she was currently charged with saving. It didn't help that Kael'thas, for all his faults, was a brilliant creature, and he could tell he did not have her undivided attention. He had tried to take advantage of her distracted nature thrice, especially after Liila left Grace to assist some dredgers at Darkwall Tower, figuring there were few enough enemies and Kael'thas was pretty trigger-happy with his fireballs.
He had seemed to think he might…escape or establish dominance or…she wasn't sure what, but he had seemed to be bolstered at first when it had been just the two of them.
She had been ready to see if the Light might hurt him as much as it hurt the venthyr when they'd gotten to Vrednic.
Liila had thought, when he went tearing off, that that was that. He'd find his way back to Sinfall or the Accuser would round him up and take him with her.
Except that hadn't happened.
As Liila had been trying to explain to Kael'thas for the nth time that he was not her boss, and she had no memories of ever living under his or his father's rule, Vrednic had returned. The beast had tackled her to the ground and snuffled her all over, inspecting her before beginning to whine at her in a way that almost seemed like he was talking.
That was when a dredger had explained that he thought Liila knew where to find his master.
Liila had told him, "Sinfall. Go to Sinfall," three times before giving up and just looking for the Accuser.
The Accuser had tried to take him off Liila's hands, but the gargon would have none of it, bark-whining at her whenever the harvester got too close and running around behind Liila, knocking her over twice.
Kael'thas had looked like each time she lost her footing was some personal affront to him, personally.
In the end, Liila had made the stupidest decision of her life and told the Accuser that it was fine, she could take care of Kael'thas and bring Vrednic home later.
After all, gargon were such good fighters and guards, she'd figured even if he was mildly annoying, he would still be a good addition to their party.
She was wrong.
While Vrednic did occasionally tear apart their enemies with a feral spirit that left even Kael'thas speechless, the gargon seemed to decide at random that they were not looking for his master fast enough, because he would start whining and making noises that Liila had absolutely not realized gargon were capable of.
He was pitiful.
And that was being generous.
Had her head not hurt so badly, she might have found it endearing how desperate he was to find his prince, but as it was, it was just more racket to try to focus through.
It didn't help that Vrednic also liked to nudge and paw her when he felt she was moving too slow. He'd shredded part of her new robe, slimed her back and hair with his nose, nearly choked her every few minutes by stepping on her cloak. In the end, she just took her cloak off. It was better than dying to such pitiful antics.
Before she had gone to wake the beast, the Accuser had warned her that Vrednic was the worst behaved gargon in all of existence, but somehow, Liila could not help but feel that that warning had not been sufficient.
When Grace found and rejoined them, Vrednic somehow got worse. He would whine and headbutt Liila whenever she tried to pet Grace, and was absolutely incorrigible. Grace had growled at him multiple times already, and was now constantly peering at Liila as though asking why she didn't get the pitiful beast to behave himself.
As though his absolute tantrum was somehow her fault.
Liila had fought elemental lords and liches and demons and gods. She'd had her will stolen, been cursed, been mind controlled by all manner of gods. She'd even had her heart broken once or twice.
And yet this had to be the worst experience of her life.
She was surrounded by two upset gargon who were making what should have been an easing headache worse, and a dead man who would not stop ranting about vengeance.
Her eyes rolled slowly from Vrednic—after his latest attempt to paw her into action that had broken through her shield and split the back of her right boot through what was left of the side of her robe—to the fallen prince.
Kael'thas was discussing plans to take on Kel'thuzad—with himself she assumed, since he had to know she wasn't listening anymore.
Her patience spent, Liila took the chains the Accuser had given her, walked up to Kael'thus, and looped them around his waist.
That made him stop.
Even as he asked her about her audacity, she took the end of the chains and offered them to Grace. "Will you take him back to Sinfall? I'll be right behind you."
Grace perked up, recognizing the task, and her powerful jaws gently took the end of the chain in them before she turned and started a brisk pace to the nearest mirror, knowing the way to home. Kael'thas settled into an angry glower and crossed his arms pointedly across his chest as he was dragged away, ears flattened.
Liila reached out just in time to meet Vrednic's latest attempt to nose her into action. She healed her headbutted wrist and then put a hand on Vrednic's shoulder, trying to smile. "Let's go see Renathal."
That.
Gods help her, but that was not the thing to say.
Vrednic's whining went up a few decibels, and he darted around her, running awkward circles as he constantly bumped into her, and urged her to move faster than her weary frame could go—and there was no way she would try to ride Vrednic when he was so…Vrednic.
Perhaps she should have rested a few more days.
Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered, as she was certain even the most well-rested and healthy being in existence would be exhausted after spending a few hours with the company she had just kept.
They reached the mirror and something seemed to click for the beast beside her, who finally left Liila alone and flung himself through the mirror, almost breaking the damned thing in the process.
She waited for it to finish rocking and rattling before stepping through herself, savoring the blissful quiet that fell over her for those few precious, precious seconds.
When Liila stepped through to Sinfall, she could hear the pathetic whimpering and wailing of the gargon echoing back to her, even though she couldn't see him.
"Vrednic!"
The pure joy that filled that single word made some of Liila's miserable countenance waver.
The gargon had found his master, and from the sound of Renathal's voice, he was elated. Perhaps getting Vrednic back was a step toward banishing that dismal mood Theotar had claimed he was in.
Vrednic's whines shifted, became happier, interrupted with boofs and barks, and—as Liila drew back to the main chamber—the sounds of shuffling feet, clacking claws, and things getting bumped and knocked over resounded around her.
As Liila rounded the corner, she heard a thud and stopped when she found Renathal where he usually stood, flat on his back, with Vrednic on top of him, doing his best to cuddle, despite his own constant, excited squirming.
"He's even more insufferable than usual," Draven said, coming over to watch the absolutely unprofessional display. As he shook his head, he glanced over to Liila and let out a bark of a laugh. Renathal managed to push Vrednic back enough to sit up and looked up to Draven, who motioned to Liila. "Our Maw Walker barely survived your pup."
"Darkest mercy," Renathal gasped, making it to his feet despite Vrednic's best efforts, and moving around the beast to Liila. "Are you alright?"
"I'll be…fine," Liila murmured, though she couldn't muster enough energy to make it sound sincere.
Renathal tried to hide his smile as he looked down at her, a sparkle in his eyes. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. "Thank you. For saving Vrednic."
As he spoke, Liila heard a loud crack and turned to find Draven had caught the beast mid-jump, with a trajectory that would have absolutely flattened Liila. Draven snickered, even as he turned and set Vrednic down.
The beast flung himself into Renathal's legs the second his paws found purchase on the ground, letting out more warbled whines that sounded like he was very much trying to speak some language.
The back of Renathal's fingers trailed along her cheek, in such an open display of affection that she was a bit surprised. Not that they had been hiding before, but… this was the first time they had been openly affectionate to one another, and even as she let out a faint sigh, Vrednic barked again, thudding himself back against Renathal to make sure his master knew he was there.
Renathal tried to school his smile. "I fear Vrednic is going to be a minor terror for a while yet. Perhaps I can come find you once he's calmed down?"
"You should get some sleep," Draven said, still grinning. It was possibly the first time she'd ever seen the general look so pleased.
"That sounds like a good idea," Liila murmured.
"If anyone asks anything of you, tell them I told them to find someone else," Renathal said, nodding to her.
She dipped into a curtsey with what was left of her robes, which made Draven snort again, trying not to laugh outright.
Renathal returned his attention to Vrednic, cupping the creature's face in his large hands and telling him how dearly he had been missed.
Liila took that as her cue, turning away and shuffling off, willing herself not to look too put out by the newly restored beast's echoing whines.
Most of the guards and nearby venthyr looked like they were biting their tongues to keep from saying that Prince Renathal's love for the gargon was a minority opinion.
A few gave her tired looks as she headed toward the room she normally slept in with the other mortals. A few offered sympathetic shrugs, with one motioning to her hair, which she realized was a tangled mess from Vrednic's earlier attention.
At least the earlier atmosphere seem to have left. It had almost felt like reverence, and Liila wasn't sure what she'd do if people started looking up to her like that. Last time that had happened, she'd ended up the fucking high priestess of Azeroth's combined priesthood, and she was very adamant that that would never happen again.
When she reached the doorway to her chambers in Sinfall, she could still hear the echoes of Vrednic's whines, and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep through that.
So instead, she headed up and out of Sinfall, down the elevator, back to Theotar's parlor.
When she entered, she found both of her soulbinds absent. Blisterback was there, standing guard, though he was more than happy to come out of his freeze to saunter up to her and snuffle gently at her hands.
"I've no treats," Liila said, realizing that this was the first time she'd come empty-handed. "I'm sorry."
Blisterback looked up at her for a moment and then lightly nuzzled her, as though to tell her it was alright. His nuzzle shifted to a sniff, and he inspected her with the utmost care before looking up at her and letting out a single, low boof.
"You smell Vrednic, don't you?"
A faint whine sounded, a pale echo of Vrednic's.
"He's a terror."
While Liila couldn't be sure, she could swear that Blisterback nodded.
She caught his face in her hands and stroked his nose gently. "I'm going to sleep here for a little while longer, alright?" His tail wagged. "I trust you to wake me if something comes up."
A final, soft boof sounded before Blisterback resumed his watch at the door.
Liila moved over to the far corner, blissfully bathed in shadows. Dropping her bags, she took off her ruined robe and examined her under shirt. Even it had a few tears in it, as did her trousers. She kicked off her ruined boots and tried to rub some of the grime from her limbs before curling up on the blankets, back to the door.
By the Gods, but she needed some sleep.
Hopefully this time, when she woke up her headache would be gone.
And hopefully there would be no more dreams. Or if there had to be any, perhaps they would be about Renathal.