Ashes by Stelmarta
Hello, it's me. Bet you thought I was dead or something. Sorry about that, it's been a very busy week. The winter play (which I am a Techie for), opens tomorrow, and it's been almost a month now of long rehearsals. So the next chapter will probably be a long time, perhaps two weeks if I'm diligent. Please be patient, it's gonna get good.
This chapter is dedicated to normalisboring, for being not only my first reviewer, but actually continuing to read my story.
Anyway, here it is, it's kinda long, but action-packed. ^_^
Oh, and I plagiarized all the deity names, just to let you know. Don't sue me. Please.
PART IX - The Temple of Alexander
Dusinane stood overlooking Yasha, her face in its habitually emotionless mask. Her comrades stood there as well, though their faces were painted in a wider variety of emotions: awe, fear, zeal, eagerness. Their names were Rosser, Gorman and Heyda, and like the majority of the Order, were refugees, outcasts, or soldiers cast away after the war. Dusinane brought them because Cayn had ordered it so, and because she knew that these three would follow her without question or hesitation. Rosser, like many of the Order, was a Zaibach refugee, one of the few Imperial soldiers who survived the final battle. Gorman was exiled from Cesario under accusation of abetting a convicted traitor, and as a result held a bitter grudge against the alliance for evicting him from his home. Heyda, a young man in his twenties, was left without a family with the sacrifice of Godashim. But more importantly, they were suicidally obedient to their superiors above and beyond the considerations that
Dusinane was female, a wolf, and a Forsaken.
The city glowed a soft pink in the light of the dawn, a many-petaled flower ready to be ripped to shreds.
Rip. Tear. Bite.
Dusinane forced bloody images from her mind before they could become reality. They still had a day's worth of road to travel; she could not let her control falter. And there would be plenty of time for bloodlust later.
"Lets go," she said and turned away from the city, back to the Road.
~*~
Once the trio had made it around the walls so cunningly discovered by Laesha, they were faced with the problem of getting in. The gate guard refused to admit them without some papers. It was a pity the guard hadn't noticed Laesha's rather long, sharp canines, or he might have reconsidered.
She growled at the back of her throat and thrust her hands into the pockets in her skirt. There was something in her pocket, a feather, but also some papers. She pulled them out. "Hance, Zsuzsana. Village of Deering, Basram frontier..." They were, of all things, Zsana's credentials. It was a bit creepy that she would have them exactly when she needed them, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Oh, sir, I seem to have had papers all along!" said Laesha, hoping it wasn't obvious that she was lying. She gave them to the guard. He looked them over a bit skeptically.
"Okay, Ms. Hance," he said to her after a moment, "This checks out, you can go in." He seemed slightly disappointed, as if he enjoyed waylaying travelers at the gates.
Owl gave Laesha a `what the hell?' look; she just smiled back at him.
Once they had passed the gates, "Hance? Since when has your name been Hance?" he asked.
"It's not mine, I stol--I mean, borrowed this skirt from a, uh, friend. She left them in the pocket. Zsana Hance. My friend, I mean."
"Yeah, sure. Well, it got us through in any case, so just make sure to thank your `friend' some time," Owl gave her one of his rare smiles, a sardonic one, but a smile nonetheless. For some unaccountable reason, she blushed slightly.
The city held more people than Laesha had ever seen in her life. It was a market day, apparently, there were stalls set up by the edge of the road, each manned by someone yelling out their prices, showing their goods to prospective customers, or arguing with other merchants. It was the sort of music of the streets that can only be appreciated by those long exposed. Laesha, however, was deafened and overwhelmed. Crow was perfectly composed as usual, but she thought she caught a glimpse of the same in her eyes.
"So, where's the Temple?" asked Owl to Crow.
"I'm not entirely sure, but if we followed the main road, we should get there eventually," she answered, a slight quaver of uncertainty in her voice.
"Eventually sounds good to me," added Laesha.
They did try the main road, but it was too crowded to make any actual progress. They ended taking a few side roads and getting hopelessly lost. They asked directions of a few people, receiving different answers from all. After the fifth new set of directions, Owl just started walking east, the opposite direction indicated, and Crow and Laesha had no other option but to follow. They were not particularly surprised when they arrived at their destination within ten minutes.
The Temple of Alexander was a colossal structure, a domed building made of white marble with doors that stood at least five times taller than Crow. It was not, however a building that made one feel insignificant, it rather filled the eyes and the mind with the beauty and splendor of the gods.
After gaping for a few moments, the intrepid travelers ventured cautiously inside.
~*~
The inside of the Temple of Alexander was just as impressive as the outside. There was a single huge room, with little alcoves all around. The high domed roof was decorated with flowing script in gold filigree, and the very top was open, exposing the blue sky above. But what immediately drew the eye was a monumental granite statue of a seated man. He was extremely majestic looking, swathed in classical garments, and wearing a grim expression.
Laesha couldn't help but gape, "That's the largest statue of Alexander I've ever seen."
"That IS Alexander, Laesha," said Crow, her head tilted back as well in order to see it all, "Not just a statue. After he had finished forging the universe he became a statue, this statue."
"Why?"
"Because if he moved so much as an eyelash his creation would unravel," said a voice at her ear. Laesha whirled around, eyes changing from midnight blue to pale pink in an instant. It was a priest, wearing white robes trimmed in gold, slightly amused at her reaction.
"Okay, from now on, nobody does that to me," she said, flustered, annoyed and embarrassed. She could hear Owl snickering behind her.
"Sorry, miss, it's not my fault you didn't hear me," said the priest, trying not to laugh. Laesha glared at him, which had the opposite effect intended, and he began to laugh in earnest.
"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, "Anyway, the shaman is correct, this is the very spot where Alexander decided to rest for the remainder of his creation. The Temple was erected over it many years later, that's partly why it's such a large building."
"We need -" Owl began.
"Answers? No such thing, only more questions," he cut in, "But I suppose you have come to the right place. Follow me, please," He began walking off in the direction off in the direction of the alcove directly opposite the main entrance. Inside was a door made of every material imaginable; gold, silver, precious stones, metal, rock, wood. It wasn't very large, but it didn't need to be to boggle the mind. There were engraving on it, of animals and plants, gods and men, stars and mountains, everything in existence it seemed. There was no handle and no visible hinges.
He turned to them, the air of cheer previously around him gone; now he radiated an aura of solemnity and formality. "You may enter one by one. First the Panwere," he gestured to Laesha who was ushered forward before she could ask what the hell a panwere was. When she reached the threshold, the door seemed to vanish, then reappeared once she had stepped through.
"Now you," he said to Owl, giving him a pointed look as if daring him to act up. Owl stepped forward a bit grumpily and disappeared in the same manner that Laesha had.
Then the priest turned to Crow, "You know what the answer will be, but still you ask. Why?"
She looked down, "I will not accept the answer until I hear it for myself. Until then, there is still hope."
"Running will do no good, and neither will questions, but you must realize that yourself," he gestured to the door. Crow gave the statue of Alexander one last look, then stepped through the portal.
~*~
Laesha was in a room with no roof. Above her head stars twinkled quietly, despite the fact that it had been day in Yasha. Her eyes wandered along the walls and sky until they met a young man draped over a chair at the other end of the room. He appeared to be fifteen, though judging by the aura of importance he gave off; he was much, much older. He looked at her and smiled. Laesha found herself walking towards him without realizing that she had moved her feet. The god, because that's what he must be, had wild violet hair, and eyes that mirrored the ceiling of this roof; a field of stars. He looked her over, but in a way that she could tell was not merely of her physical self.
/ It is not often that I am visited by a Panwere / he stated. His voice hurt Laesha's ears. It sounded like starlight, cold, distant, and yet overwhelmingly powerful. This would be Brayan, she decided, the god of magic.
"A what?" she managed to choke out, her own voice sounding puny and frail.
/ A Panwere. / he gave her a cold, starry gaze, / That's right, you don't know, do you? / he smiled patronizingly, which caused her ankles to give out, leaving her sprawled on the floor. Her ears were really starting to hurt now, and she was beginning to regret taking an interest in religion. Brayan got up from his chair, a little frown of concern on his smooth face. He helped her up, and smiled apologetically, and this time with no ill effects.
/ You'll have to excuse me, / he said quietly, now in the realm of human hearing, / It is not often I get mortal visitors. My children are few, while those of my siblings are more each day. / He sat back down in his chair and brushed his violet hair away from his eyes in a curiously human manner.
"What's a Panwere?" asked Laesha, her curiosity overriding any sense of awe in the deity in front of her.
/ One of the peoples of Atlantis. When the Atlanteans gained control over fate, they changed their bodies. Most gave themselves white wings, a few imitated the wings of birds, and others became like animals. But there were a few who did not wish to choose a single shape, so they gave themselves the ability to change. There were only a dozen or so when Atlantis was destroyed, and those that survived began to die out slowly. You, in all likelihood, are the last Panwere on Gaea. /
"Huh?"
/ Only you would say `huh' to a god. /
"Sorry, it's just a bit much all at once."
He raised an eyebrow, / Would you prefer that I started again but did it very, very slowly? /
"Uh...not really."
/ Then don't complain. / He smiled again; assuring her that he wasn't being serious. / Is there anything else I can do for you? Wait, I know, /
Laesha wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she found out an instant later when her pendant appeared in his hand. It was definitely not on her neck anymore, but how he got it, she didn't want to guess.
/ Aha! / he exclaimed, / This is what's been causing you all those problems; I'd be happy to take care of that for you. / There was a flash of purple light and the crack was gone. Her pendant had become smooth and flawless, and slightly luminescent. It now seemed more than the piece of junk she had worn around her neck for the last sixteen years. Then it was back in her hands with no apparent transit.
/ The rest I leave to you. /
And with that, the room faded around her, the stars above her flickering out, replaced by the marble ceiling of the Temple of Alexander.
~*~
Owl was in a dark room, lit by wavering torchlight. There seemed to be racks of weapons and armor along the walls, but he couldn't see well enough to tell for sure. There was a shadowy figure standing at the other end of the room, fingering a wicked-looking glaive.
/ What do you want, mortal? / demanded the figure. Her voice was a steel blade that managed to convey in that one sentence complete and utter disgust for the world in general.
"I want to know how to take revenge on Cayn," he answered; sounding uncharacteristically timorous, resolve wavering. He took a step forward, but the goddess held up a hand, and more than fear froze his limbs. She turned toward him, caught by the wavering firelight. Her face was like her voice, sharp and cold. Her eyes were red, her hair white blond and cut severely above her earlobes. She was not in armor, but one got the strong impression that she didn't need to be.
/ Do you know who I am? /
Owl nodded, the words frozen in his throat. She was Din, goddess of battle, it was written in her appearance and in her every movement. She put the glaive on the rack against the wall and stepped towards him. She gave him a look that assessed every fiber of his soul. Owl pulled himself up, forcing the fear and awe away with only marginal success.
/ Why do you want to kill him? /
"Because he destroyed my life," he managed, giving her the sternest look he could. As she turned around he thought he caught the edge of a smirk. She continued pacing slowly in front of him like a caged tiger waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
/ Why did he destroy your village? /
"I don't know," he said through gritted teeth.
/ As a mortal, you have the advantage, or curse, of having to make your own choices. I suggest you think about this one for longer. / She stopped pacing and turned towards him, her face achieving a new level of steeliness.
/ Revenge is a dish best served cold, as they say, and do you know why? Because it loses its taste once it's cooled off. / she gave him a piercing look, / Take my advice and live your life free from the curse that is vengeance. Leave and do not look back. /
Anger boiled away at his invisible bonds. She didn't understand his pain at all, she couldn't! How could she tell him to leave it? To forget his family! He would never forget what Cayn had done to him.
"I came here for answers!" he shouted at her as she walked away from him.
/ There are no answers, only more questions, / she replied, turning her head and smirking slightly.
And then he was back in the Temple, staring at the door that he had stepped into only moments ago. Laesha was there as well, looking up at the ceiling, clutching her necklace in one hand and looking rather confused. Crow was nowhere to be seen. The priest has wandered off as well.
"What's wrong?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
"Nothing," he snapped.
Laesha opened her mouth angrily, but was denied the chance to say anything by Crow's sudden appearance. She was suddenly just there, looking less dramatic than usual despite her entrance. She had an expression of extreme sorrow on her face, though there was still a dim flicker of defiance in her blue eyes.
Owl almost expected Laesha to ask Crow the same thing she had asked him, but she just stayed silent, for once knowing when to keep her mouth shut.
The shaman stared at the door with an unreadable expression for several long moments.
"I've been running," she said quietly, "I know that it has done no good, but rather harmed those I cared about. You can't outrun the Fates, and trying is suicide. But I can't stop, I can't," Crow took a deep shuddering breath, while Owl and Laesha just stared, and waited, unsure of what they should do. "I now know that I have been wrong to hide it from you. The least that I can do is try save you."
She seemed to gain some of the confidence that she had lost, as if she had resolved a question that had been haunting her. "Many millennia ago," she began, voice even and steady, "Dust became lonely in the land of the dead, he wanted a wife. As the god of the dead, he was ever alone among the wraiths, the spirits of the dead. So he selected a woman named Ashes to be his bride. She went willingly to his side and served him as the Leading Light in his dark world for five hundred years. But because she was mortal, she gradually faded, passing out of the netherworlds and going back to her home in the land of the living, reincarnated as another. Dust reclaimed her on the day of the Heguinedes eclipse, and it began again. So every five hundred years, the soul of Ashes is reborn in a mortal body, to return to Dust after twenty years during the day of the Heguinedes eclipse."
She seemed to be finished now, but something still needed to be said, they could feel it the air.
But it was never uttered aloud, because at that moment, there was a bloodcurdling yell from behind them, and suddenly they were beset by three men in the gray armor of the Order. Two went immediately to Crow and roughly pinned her arms behind her back. She barely gave a struggle. The third went to Laesha, and Owl found himself confronted by a wolf-woman with a red glaze over her eyes and the mark of the Forsaken under one eye. He had to devote all of his concentration just to keep alive. He thought he heard a feral snarl from Laesha and there was a flash of pink light. This, however, did not distract his attacker, and he was soon being held to the ground with two very strong paws. Laesha was putting up a valiant fight, but even with claws the size of meat cleavers she was loosing. She let out a lion-like roar and took a wild swipe at the man, her claws raking through his cheek, blood dripping onto the white marble floor. She raised her hand for another strike, but froze
suddenly, eyes wide, face pale. One of the guards who had been holding Crow took this opportunity to grab her. She simply stared vacantly at the bloody floor, claws receding slowly into bloodstained fingernails
"Gorman," said the wolf to the wounded man, he nodded slowly, clutching his face. She turned to the others of the Order, and with a simple jerk of her shaggy head she indicated that they should leave. The priests, though the Temple had been crawling with them before, were nowhere in sight.
"We taking these two with us, boss?" asked the man holding Laesha.
The wolf nodded curtly, "Cayn-sama will find some use for them." Though he couldn't see her face, Owl thought he detected a sadistic smile along with those words. If only he could get his knife....
The wolf pulled him up roughly and his were hands tied behind his back by Gorman, the wounded man. He did the same to Laesha, only with a bit more force, some form of revenge, no doubt. She slumped to the floor, only semi-conscious after the skirmish.
The wolf-woman stalked over to Crow. She was looking down, her silver hair masking her. The wolf lifted her face up, and gazed at it for a moment.
"Now what did you think you could accomplish by running away?" she purred, an edge of anger in her voice, "We knew where you were going to go, what you would do, and there was never any doubt that we would get you back. The gods are on our side this time, there's no use running." She smiled, baring her sharp canines at her, "Or did you think you could actually talk Dust out of it? If so, then you really are foolish, Ashes."
The wolf turned sharply around, Crow simply lowering her head again, her face painted in anger and shame. She cast a mournful look at Owl, mouthing the words `I'm sorry'.
Now he understood, and the revelation shed almost too much light on everything that had happened to him in the past year. But there was no time to ponder it now, and he suspected he might never live to fully know.
The four soldiers of the Order dragged their respective captives to their feet and exited the Temple, heading back to Graemoon forest and to Cayn.
Hello, it's me. Bet you thought I was dead or something. Sorry about that, it's been a very busy week. The winter play (which I am a Techie for), opens tomorrow, and it's been almost a month now of long rehearsals. So the next chapter will probably be a long time, perhaps two weeks if I'm diligent. Please be patient, it's gonna get good.
This chapter is dedicated to normalisboring, for being not only my first reviewer, but actually continuing to read my story.
Anyway, here it is, it's kinda long, but action-packed. ^_^
Oh, and I plagiarized all the deity names, just to let you know. Don't sue me. Please.
PART IX - The Temple of Alexander
Dusinane stood overlooking Yasha, her face in its habitually emotionless mask. Her comrades stood there as well, though their faces were painted in a wider variety of emotions: awe, fear, zeal, eagerness. Their names were Rosser, Gorman and Heyda, and like the majority of the Order, were refugees, outcasts, or soldiers cast away after the war. Dusinane brought them because Cayn had ordered it so, and because she knew that these three would follow her without question or hesitation. Rosser, like many of the Order, was a Zaibach refugee, one of the few Imperial soldiers who survived the final battle. Gorman was exiled from Cesario under accusation of abetting a convicted traitor, and as a result held a bitter grudge against the alliance for evicting him from his home. Heyda, a young man in his twenties, was left without a family with the sacrifice of Godashim. But more importantly, they were suicidally obedient to their superiors above and beyond the considerations that
Dusinane was female, a wolf, and a Forsaken.
The city glowed a soft pink in the light of the dawn, a many-petaled flower ready to be ripped to shreds.
Rip. Tear. Bite.
Dusinane forced bloody images from her mind before they could become reality. They still had a day's worth of road to travel; she could not let her control falter. And there would be plenty of time for bloodlust later.
"Lets go," she said and turned away from the city, back to the Road.
~*~
Once the trio had made it around the walls so cunningly discovered by Laesha, they were faced with the problem of getting in. The gate guard refused to admit them without some papers. It was a pity the guard hadn't noticed Laesha's rather long, sharp canines, or he might have reconsidered.
She growled at the back of her throat and thrust her hands into the pockets in her skirt. There was something in her pocket, a feather, but also some papers. She pulled them out. "Hance, Zsuzsana. Village of Deering, Basram frontier..." They were, of all things, Zsana's credentials. It was a bit creepy that she would have them exactly when she needed them, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Oh, sir, I seem to have had papers all along!" said Laesha, hoping it wasn't obvious that she was lying. She gave them to the guard. He looked them over a bit skeptically.
"Okay, Ms. Hance," he said to her after a moment, "This checks out, you can go in." He seemed slightly disappointed, as if he enjoyed waylaying travelers at the gates.
Owl gave Laesha a `what the hell?' look; she just smiled back at him.
Once they had passed the gates, "Hance? Since when has your name been Hance?" he asked.
"It's not mine, I stol--I mean, borrowed this skirt from a, uh, friend. She left them in the pocket. Zsana Hance. My friend, I mean."
"Yeah, sure. Well, it got us through in any case, so just make sure to thank your `friend' some time," Owl gave her one of his rare smiles, a sardonic one, but a smile nonetheless. For some unaccountable reason, she blushed slightly.
The city held more people than Laesha had ever seen in her life. It was a market day, apparently, there were stalls set up by the edge of the road, each manned by someone yelling out their prices, showing their goods to prospective customers, or arguing with other merchants. It was the sort of music of the streets that can only be appreciated by those long exposed. Laesha, however, was deafened and overwhelmed. Crow was perfectly composed as usual, but she thought she caught a glimpse of the same in her eyes.
"So, where's the Temple?" asked Owl to Crow.
"I'm not entirely sure, but if we followed the main road, we should get there eventually," she answered, a slight quaver of uncertainty in her voice.
"Eventually sounds good to me," added Laesha.
They did try the main road, but it was too crowded to make any actual progress. They ended taking a few side roads and getting hopelessly lost. They asked directions of a few people, receiving different answers from all. After the fifth new set of directions, Owl just started walking east, the opposite direction indicated, and Crow and Laesha had no other option but to follow. They were not particularly surprised when they arrived at their destination within ten minutes.
The Temple of Alexander was a colossal structure, a domed building made of white marble with doors that stood at least five times taller than Crow. It was not, however a building that made one feel insignificant, it rather filled the eyes and the mind with the beauty and splendor of the gods.
After gaping for a few moments, the intrepid travelers ventured cautiously inside.
~*~
The inside of the Temple of Alexander was just as impressive as the outside. There was a single huge room, with little alcoves all around. The high domed roof was decorated with flowing script in gold filigree, and the very top was open, exposing the blue sky above. But what immediately drew the eye was a monumental granite statue of a seated man. He was extremely majestic looking, swathed in classical garments, and wearing a grim expression.
Laesha couldn't help but gape, "That's the largest statue of Alexander I've ever seen."
"That IS Alexander, Laesha," said Crow, her head tilted back as well in order to see it all, "Not just a statue. After he had finished forging the universe he became a statue, this statue."
"Why?"
"Because if he moved so much as an eyelash his creation would unravel," said a voice at her ear. Laesha whirled around, eyes changing from midnight blue to pale pink in an instant. It was a priest, wearing white robes trimmed in gold, slightly amused at her reaction.
"Okay, from now on, nobody does that to me," she said, flustered, annoyed and embarrassed. She could hear Owl snickering behind her.
"Sorry, miss, it's not my fault you didn't hear me," said the priest, trying not to laugh. Laesha glared at him, which had the opposite effect intended, and he began to laugh in earnest.
"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, "Anyway, the shaman is correct, this is the very spot where Alexander decided to rest for the remainder of his creation. The Temple was erected over it many years later, that's partly why it's such a large building."
"We need -" Owl began.
"Answers? No such thing, only more questions," he cut in, "But I suppose you have come to the right place. Follow me, please," He began walking off in the direction off in the direction of the alcove directly opposite the main entrance. Inside was a door made of every material imaginable; gold, silver, precious stones, metal, rock, wood. It wasn't very large, but it didn't need to be to boggle the mind. There were engraving on it, of animals and plants, gods and men, stars and mountains, everything in existence it seemed. There was no handle and no visible hinges.
He turned to them, the air of cheer previously around him gone; now he radiated an aura of solemnity and formality. "You may enter one by one. First the Panwere," he gestured to Laesha who was ushered forward before she could ask what the hell a panwere was. When she reached the threshold, the door seemed to vanish, then reappeared once she had stepped through.
"Now you," he said to Owl, giving him a pointed look as if daring him to act up. Owl stepped forward a bit grumpily and disappeared in the same manner that Laesha had.
Then the priest turned to Crow, "You know what the answer will be, but still you ask. Why?"
She looked down, "I will not accept the answer until I hear it for myself. Until then, there is still hope."
"Running will do no good, and neither will questions, but you must realize that yourself," he gestured to the door. Crow gave the statue of Alexander one last look, then stepped through the portal.
~*~
Laesha was in a room with no roof. Above her head stars twinkled quietly, despite the fact that it had been day in Yasha. Her eyes wandered along the walls and sky until they met a young man draped over a chair at the other end of the room. He appeared to be fifteen, though judging by the aura of importance he gave off; he was much, much older. He looked at her and smiled. Laesha found herself walking towards him without realizing that she had moved her feet. The god, because that's what he must be, had wild violet hair, and eyes that mirrored the ceiling of this roof; a field of stars. He looked her over, but in a way that she could tell was not merely of her physical self.
/ It is not often that I am visited by a Panwere / he stated. His voice hurt Laesha's ears. It sounded like starlight, cold, distant, and yet overwhelmingly powerful. This would be Brayan, she decided, the god of magic.
"A what?" she managed to choke out, her own voice sounding puny and frail.
/ A Panwere. / he gave her a cold, starry gaze, / That's right, you don't know, do you? / he smiled patronizingly, which caused her ankles to give out, leaving her sprawled on the floor. Her ears were really starting to hurt now, and she was beginning to regret taking an interest in religion. Brayan got up from his chair, a little frown of concern on his smooth face. He helped her up, and smiled apologetically, and this time with no ill effects.
/ You'll have to excuse me, / he said quietly, now in the realm of human hearing, / It is not often I get mortal visitors. My children are few, while those of my siblings are more each day. / He sat back down in his chair and brushed his violet hair away from his eyes in a curiously human manner.
"What's a Panwere?" asked Laesha, her curiosity overriding any sense of awe in the deity in front of her.
/ One of the peoples of Atlantis. When the Atlanteans gained control over fate, they changed their bodies. Most gave themselves white wings, a few imitated the wings of birds, and others became like animals. But there were a few who did not wish to choose a single shape, so they gave themselves the ability to change. There were only a dozen or so when Atlantis was destroyed, and those that survived began to die out slowly. You, in all likelihood, are the last Panwere on Gaea. /
"Huh?"
/ Only you would say `huh' to a god. /
"Sorry, it's just a bit much all at once."
He raised an eyebrow, / Would you prefer that I started again but did it very, very slowly? /
"Uh...not really."
/ Then don't complain. / He smiled again; assuring her that he wasn't being serious. / Is there anything else I can do for you? Wait, I know, /
Laesha wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she found out an instant later when her pendant appeared in his hand. It was definitely not on her neck anymore, but how he got it, she didn't want to guess.
/ Aha! / he exclaimed, / This is what's been causing you all those problems; I'd be happy to take care of that for you. / There was a flash of purple light and the crack was gone. Her pendant had become smooth and flawless, and slightly luminescent. It now seemed more than the piece of junk she had worn around her neck for the last sixteen years. Then it was back in her hands with no apparent transit.
/ The rest I leave to you. /
And with that, the room faded around her, the stars above her flickering out, replaced by the marble ceiling of the Temple of Alexander.
~*~
Owl was in a dark room, lit by wavering torchlight. There seemed to be racks of weapons and armor along the walls, but he couldn't see well enough to tell for sure. There was a shadowy figure standing at the other end of the room, fingering a wicked-looking glaive.
/ What do you want, mortal? / demanded the figure. Her voice was a steel blade that managed to convey in that one sentence complete and utter disgust for the world in general.
"I want to know how to take revenge on Cayn," he answered; sounding uncharacteristically timorous, resolve wavering. He took a step forward, but the goddess held up a hand, and more than fear froze his limbs. She turned toward him, caught by the wavering firelight. Her face was like her voice, sharp and cold. Her eyes were red, her hair white blond and cut severely above her earlobes. She was not in armor, but one got the strong impression that she didn't need to be.
/ Do you know who I am? /
Owl nodded, the words frozen in his throat. She was Din, goddess of battle, it was written in her appearance and in her every movement. She put the glaive on the rack against the wall and stepped towards him. She gave him a look that assessed every fiber of his soul. Owl pulled himself up, forcing the fear and awe away with only marginal success.
/ Why do you want to kill him? /
"Because he destroyed my life," he managed, giving her the sternest look he could. As she turned around he thought he caught the edge of a smirk. She continued pacing slowly in front of him like a caged tiger waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
/ Why did he destroy your village? /
"I don't know," he said through gritted teeth.
/ As a mortal, you have the advantage, or curse, of having to make your own choices. I suggest you think about this one for longer. / She stopped pacing and turned towards him, her face achieving a new level of steeliness.
/ Revenge is a dish best served cold, as they say, and do you know why? Because it loses its taste once it's cooled off. / she gave him a piercing look, / Take my advice and live your life free from the curse that is vengeance. Leave and do not look back. /
Anger boiled away at his invisible bonds. She didn't understand his pain at all, she couldn't! How could she tell him to leave it? To forget his family! He would never forget what Cayn had done to him.
"I came here for answers!" he shouted at her as she walked away from him.
/ There are no answers, only more questions, / she replied, turning her head and smirking slightly.
And then he was back in the Temple, staring at the door that he had stepped into only moments ago. Laesha was there as well, looking up at the ceiling, clutching her necklace in one hand and looking rather confused. Crow was nowhere to be seen. The priest has wandered off as well.
"What's wrong?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
"Nothing," he snapped.
Laesha opened her mouth angrily, but was denied the chance to say anything by Crow's sudden appearance. She was suddenly just there, looking less dramatic than usual despite her entrance. She had an expression of extreme sorrow on her face, though there was still a dim flicker of defiance in her blue eyes.
Owl almost expected Laesha to ask Crow the same thing she had asked him, but she just stayed silent, for once knowing when to keep her mouth shut.
The shaman stared at the door with an unreadable expression for several long moments.
"I've been running," she said quietly, "I know that it has done no good, but rather harmed those I cared about. You can't outrun the Fates, and trying is suicide. But I can't stop, I can't," Crow took a deep shuddering breath, while Owl and Laesha just stared, and waited, unsure of what they should do. "I now know that I have been wrong to hide it from you. The least that I can do is try save you."
She seemed to gain some of the confidence that she had lost, as if she had resolved a question that had been haunting her. "Many millennia ago," she began, voice even and steady, "Dust became lonely in the land of the dead, he wanted a wife. As the god of the dead, he was ever alone among the wraiths, the spirits of the dead. So he selected a woman named Ashes to be his bride. She went willingly to his side and served him as the Leading Light in his dark world for five hundred years. But because she was mortal, she gradually faded, passing out of the netherworlds and going back to her home in the land of the living, reincarnated as another. Dust reclaimed her on the day of the Heguinedes eclipse, and it began again. So every five hundred years, the soul of Ashes is reborn in a mortal body, to return to Dust after twenty years during the day of the Heguinedes eclipse."
She seemed to be finished now, but something still needed to be said, they could feel it the air.
But it was never uttered aloud, because at that moment, there was a bloodcurdling yell from behind them, and suddenly they were beset by three men in the gray armor of the Order. Two went immediately to Crow and roughly pinned her arms behind her back. She barely gave a struggle. The third went to Laesha, and Owl found himself confronted by a wolf-woman with a red glaze over her eyes and the mark of the Forsaken under one eye. He had to devote all of his concentration just to keep alive. He thought he heard a feral snarl from Laesha and there was a flash of pink light. This, however, did not distract his attacker, and he was soon being held to the ground with two very strong paws. Laesha was putting up a valiant fight, but even with claws the size of meat cleavers she was loosing. She let out a lion-like roar and took a wild swipe at the man, her claws raking through his cheek, blood dripping onto the white marble floor. She raised her hand for another strike, but froze
suddenly, eyes wide, face pale. One of the guards who had been holding Crow took this opportunity to grab her. She simply stared vacantly at the bloody floor, claws receding slowly into bloodstained fingernails
"Gorman," said the wolf to the wounded man, he nodded slowly, clutching his face. She turned to the others of the Order, and with a simple jerk of her shaggy head she indicated that they should leave. The priests, though the Temple had been crawling with them before, were nowhere in sight.
"We taking these two with us, boss?" asked the man holding Laesha.
The wolf nodded curtly, "Cayn-sama will find some use for them." Though he couldn't see her face, Owl thought he detected a sadistic smile along with those words. If only he could get his knife....
The wolf pulled him up roughly and his were hands tied behind his back by Gorman, the wounded man. He did the same to Laesha, only with a bit more force, some form of revenge, no doubt. She slumped to the floor, only semi-conscious after the skirmish.
The wolf-woman stalked over to Crow. She was looking down, her silver hair masking her. The wolf lifted her face up, and gazed at it for a moment.
"Now what did you think you could accomplish by running away?" she purred, an edge of anger in her voice, "We knew where you were going to go, what you would do, and there was never any doubt that we would get you back. The gods are on our side this time, there's no use running." She smiled, baring her sharp canines at her, "Or did you think you could actually talk Dust out of it? If so, then you really are foolish, Ashes."
The wolf turned sharply around, Crow simply lowering her head again, her face painted in anger and shame. She cast a mournful look at Owl, mouthing the words `I'm sorry'.
Now he understood, and the revelation shed almost too much light on everything that had happened to him in the past year. But there was no time to ponder it now, and he suspected he might never live to fully know.
The four soldiers of the Order dragged their respective captives to their feet and exited the Temple, heading back to Graemoon forest and to Cayn.
