Liila is used to waking up in pain, and considering how she usually feels, today isn't going to be a particularly bad one. Those deeper aches that her healing spells never reach are pleasantly muted, and she feels strong.

Almost indestructible.

There is a strength flowing through her, like she could toss boulders or—

"Shit!" she exclaims as she tries to move and suddenly a million very physical aches burst to life throughout her.

She starts to conjure a healing spell and frowns when it stalls, like it cannot quite reach that ever fickle fucking Light.

A cool wash of magic sweeps over her. It is not warm like another priest's Light, but it is a familiar echo.

Liila opens her eyes slowly and stares up into a pair of familiar faces. For a second, she cannot place either, but slowly…so painfully slowly, her scattered thoughts settle.

Pelagos' face is pale, his eyes wide as he holds up different numbers of fingers a few times. When Liila finally waves him off, he starts looking over the rest of her. His own arm is bruised pretty badly, like he landed on it after a great fall or just slammed into something very, very hard.

She puts her hand over his mouth as he starts another spell to mend her. "Take care of yourself."

"It's not as bad as it looks," he says, tugging her hand away from his face. "And I've been healing myself…all three of us, really, in rounds. I'll get back to me in a minute."

Nibbles chitters in agreement.

"You're wearing yourself out," Liila mumbles. She remembers the spells she was tinkering with, and dares a quick spell directed at Pelagos' arm. It's fast enough that she can cast before he can interrupt her, but it absolutely wipes her out, and she slumps back against the ground.

No…

Her back feels oddly…wet.

She reaches her hand back to feel beneath her head and feels her knuckles skim water. Before she can ask why Pelagos would let her sleep in a puddle, she turns her head and sees the water stretching out toward light mists that swirl and twist around them. With a frown, she turns her head the other way.

More water.

Nibbles' large hand slows her as she sits up, like he is unsure if he should stop her or let her do as she likes.

She pats his hand absently as she looks past him and then twists where she sits—briefly, as moving so much causes a fresh wave of pain to shudder through her—to see that the water goes in every direction, uninterrupted by any visible land.

She looks down then. The water goes just as far down as it seems to go in every other direction, with some odd structures and creatures lazing about within its depths.

Far, far, far below, she can see what looks like part of a realm's gateway, submerged and broken.

Just like the one they were hanging off during the fighting. She looks up and around for signs of the one they had to have come through, and then reluctantly lets her gaze drop back down.

"Shit," Liila whispers.

"Yeah," Pelagos says. When she looks at him, he is staring down at the gateway, too.

Abruptly, Liila looks around again, ignoring the pains that come with moving, eyes wide. "Are we…"

"In Zereth Mortis?" Pelagos finishes when she trails off. "I'm not…sure. Maybe? I'm not sure where else we could have gone. There were no other gateways nearby." He pauses and looks at Nibbles. "Unless he brought us somewhere…"

Nibbles lets out a string of clicks and snaps as he gesticulates wildly.

"Nibbles says he did not 'bring' us anywhere."

As Nibbles continues to chitter away, moving his hands, Liila notices a gash on one of his arms and reaches out, catching the massive limb. Nibbles lets out a soft hiss, but simply stills.

"You're hurt too?"

"I've been mending him, too," Pelagos says, in response to the dismay in Liila's tone. "He won't let me touch him, but I've done what I can."

Liila tries to conjure another healing spell herself, only for Nibbles to nudge her off balance to interrupt it, toppling her against the water.

Her hands brace instinctively against what should be solid beneath her. Her palms cause small ripples that dissipate quickly, even as she expects herself to slide under the water. However, wet as it is, it holds her up.

She frowns and looks back at Pelagos. "Since when do kyrian know waterwalking?"

"We don't."

Liila's brow pinches, and she looks at Nibbles, who simply shrugs his large shoulders. "How are we…"

Pelagos and Nibbles shrug in unison.

"Can we go under it?"

"I wouldn't want to try and then not be able to get out," Pelagos replies, even as Liila points her fingers straight down and pushes them into the water.

"Why? We don't need to breathe, right?"

"No, but…" Pelagos watches as she sticks her arm down into the water, up to her elbow. She wiggles her fingers beneath the surface, feels the water swirl beneath them. It does nothing to shatter the surface tension. When she looks back up at him, his expression is impossible to read. "If we get stuck anywhere, it would be bad. And it's harder to communicate with a mouth full of water."

Liila pulls her arm out of the water and holds it up, watching a few rivulets run down her skin and drip off her elbow.

"Since you're up, we should probably get moving," Pelagos says, recapturing Liila's attention.

She blinks, looks at him, and then nods. However, when she tries to stand, it is like something in her hip snaps and she crashes back onto the water with a splash. She does not, however, sink into it.

She swears softly, hand clutching her hip as it throbs painfully.

Nibbles leans over her then, practically snuffling her from head to toe before letting out a low growl and taking off across the water, ignoring when she calls for him to come back.

It doesn't take long before the mists swallow him, and Liila and Pelagos are alone.

"Should we follow him?" Pelagos asks.

Liila tries to stand again and winces at the pain that lances through her leg. Pelagos helps her to her feet carefully, and for a moment she is alright, but as soon as she tries to put weight on her injured leg, she goes down again, with Pelagos barely managing to catch her and hold her up.

Anima glows at his fingertips, and she smacks his hand. "You've already stretched yourself too thin." She wobbles on her good leg, half braced against him. "You should go—"

"No."

"Follow Nibbles and—"

"No."

When Liila glares at him, he gives her an even look. "With this mist, there's no way I'd find my way back to you. We go together, or we stay together."

"You're not going to be able to defend yourself with me hanging onto you."

"I'm more capable than you think," Pelagos replies. He appraises her a second and then pulls one of her arms over his shoulders. He slips his other arm around her waist and hugs her to his side. "At least the water is gentle. Maybe it won't hurt as much to let your leg drag until we can find a splint."

As much as Liila wants to argue, she can see with a glance that he is resolute. She leans into him, and they start forward.

"How big do you think this place is?" She asks, after what feels like an eternity of limping along, though she doubts they've actually been moving for even an hour.

"I wouldn't know," Pelagos replies. He glances at her and then pauses to adjust his grip around her waist. "I've read a bit about this place, though. It's where the First Ones forged everything that became the Shadowlands."

"So this is like the center of it all?"

"No, that would be Oribos," he says. "This is just…where everything began." He pauses, looking at her. "And I mean, everything. The Shadowlands were made before the Realm of the Living, so that there would be somewhere to welcome souls as they perished."

Liila looks around again, at the waters stretching out into the mists, at the weird hexagonal shapes deep beneath them and the strange looking creatures that almost look like jellyfish the few times they've come up close enough to be seen clearly.

Considering how clear the water is, it makes her wonder just how deep down it goes, for such creatures to be obscured.

It also makes her wonder how big they are.

"So this is the beginning of the universe."

Pelagos nods, somber. "Supposedly, there was a broker expedition to try to find this place, eons ago. They got lost in the In Between, though. This place is highly guarded, you see. No one is allowed here because the First Ones stored their mechanisms for creating everything within the Shadowlands here. Even the Eternal Ones dare not step foot here. It's sacred ground."

"Or water," Liila murmurs, looking down. And then looks around again, squinting at the mists as though that might help her see. "Disciple Tia said that the Jailer was going to get weaker the longer he's here."

"Really?"

Liila nods.

They muse for a moment about just what a weaker Jailer might look like, but in the end, their conversation dies. It feels like talking about the wayward god will somehow summon him. At length, Pelagos stumbles a little, and Liila curses herself quietly for not realizing that he is in no better condition than she is.

"Let's take a break." When he looks ready to argue, she adds, "My hip is killing me."

He hesitates for a breath before nodding and helping to ease her down onto the water again. He collapses beside her. He is definitely too pale.

She tugs his good arm, and he lays next to her on the water, staring up into the mists, without really seeing them.

After a long, eerie pause, where the world is painfully silent—there are no bugs to hum or click or chirp, no wind to make non-existent plants rustle, and the water is so still—Pelagos finally speaks.

"Can you feel Adrestes? Or Xandria?" He swallows then. "I can't feel Nikolon. And I think I can feel Kleia, if I try to focus completely on her, but it's so…faint. I can't tell if I'm just remembering her concern from other times, or actually feeling something from her now."

Liila stiffens a little as she realizes that that ethereal pull seems to be absent. In Oribos, it had already been such a faint thing, a mere glimmer of a notion. But here…

"I can't feel Adrestes, either," Liila whispers. "Does that mean he can't feel me?"

"I don't know," Pelagos says. "He's a paragon, so maybe…"

He shrugs helplessly, the water rippling briefly from the movement before growing still again.

Panic swells inside of Liila as the truth of it hits.

She can't feel Adrestes.

She can't feel him because she's somewhere she shouldn't be.

Somewhere she didn't have permission to go.

That panic is building inside of her, getting worse with every realization of just how bad their situation is.

Liila feels for Xandria, for any indication that the paragon is still there, still bound to her. She does her best to clear her head, to focus solely on her soulbind and reach out to her through their connection. Nothing happens. She thinks of how she did things with Thales, of how he was so forward about their binding, of how she was learning to reach out to Pelagos and Kleia before the Jailer stripped them of their ties.

There is nothing.

She cannot feel Xandria, and she cannot feel Adrestes.

And even if she gets back to Oribos, will she be allowed to return to Bastion?

She's broken her pact.

She reaches again, tries to follow the path she knows should be there, somewhere in her head. She pours her soul into it, reaching desperately, thinking as strongly as she can that she did not mean for this to happen, that she does not want to be exiled.

For a second, she thinks she feels something. It is little more than a feather's brush against her mind, but she can swear that it is something.

An acknowledgment.

She focuses on it, on that whisper that could or couldn't be and—

Her hip throbs, and she lets out a soft hiss.

It is gone.

Tears bead on her eyelashes as she squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to cry.

Why does it seem like she must lose every home she finds? Impervious fell apart, Haa'aji and the kids are lost to her, and now Adrestes and Bastion and—

Liila feels Pelagos' anima wash over her and opens her eyes to give him a pointed glare, though she suspects she does not look nearly mean enough. His smile is far too gentle.

With a hiccup, she starts crying.

Pelagos wraps his arms around her tightly, resting his head against hers, and she breaks down further, clinging to him as she cries against his shoulder. When her tears are spent and she finally pulls away, steadying herself and trying to wrangle the emotions inside of her, she is surprised to find that Pelagos is wiping tears away from his own cheeks.

His smile is sad as he takes her hands in his. "Shall we try together?"

She clasps his hand and then both settle in again, closing their eyes, focusing.

They lay there for what could be an eternity unto itself, and twice she thinks she almost feels something, like she is stretching herself as far as she can to make that contact and there is the feeling that she is just barely shy of making that connection, like her fingertips are close enough to almost touch Xandria's, but she cannot quite reach.

Finally, it is the sound of something heavy thudding wetly across the water toward them that draws them from their focus. Liila tilts her head up so that she can look in the direction the noise is coming from, and relief floods through her as she sees Nibbles returning to them.

Pelagos sits up first, after squeezing Liila's hand, and then helps her sit up as well.

Nibbles skids to a stop, splashing them with some of the water as he drops an armful of strange looking fruit in front of them. Even as Pelagos tries to ask where he found his bounty, Nibbles motions to his own arm, where Liila had noticed his injuries before.

They are gone.

Nibbles then holds up one of the fruit. It is dwarfed in his large hand, but he offers it to her, much as she did months ago, when she was still coaxing him out of the shadows of Revendreth, earning his trust.

She takes the fruit from his hand, and he nods to her, pushing her hand and the fruit to her mouth. When she takes a bite, he turns his attention to Pelagos, urging him to do the same, chittering and clicking at them all the while.

Pelagos is hesitant at first. "This place—and everything in it—is sacred."

Nibbles makes a few grandiose hand motions as he talks at them, louder.

Liila waves her own hand. "Slow down, slow down. I'm not follow—" As she tries to set her fruit down so that she can use the signs she knows Nibbles will recognize for confusion, the devourer catches her hand and puts the fruit back into it, firmly, with a low growl.

Nibbles motions to his arm, then to the fruit. He makes a motion like he is eating, and then rubs his arm.

"He's saying it healed him," Liila says, looking down at the fruit. She takes another bite. It is like nothing she has ever tasted before, and yet somehow, it is still familiar.

Pelagos looks ready to argue, but Nibbles takes another fruit and shoves it at him. With a sigh, he whispers a quick prayer for forgiveness and then takes a bite.

And blinks, surprised.

"No wonder this healed him. This is…pure anima." His face twists as he looks down at the fruit. "But it is sacred…to eat any of this…"

Nibbles is gesticulating again.

As Pelagos tries to say he doesn't understand, Liila catches Pelagos' arm with her free hand. She takes another bite of her fruit and then points to Nibbles. "He's saying something about Mawsworn. Did you take these from Mawsworn?"

Excited chittering. More motions she does not recognize.

One she thinks she should.

Has she lost more memories already? Or is this a hole in her mind she has had for a while and is just now discovering?

Liila takes a few more bites from her fruit before setting it down, much to Nibbles' chagrin. She waves her hands at him quickly, motions to the fruit to acknowledge she will go back to it, and then begins talking, moving her hands a bit slower to try to get Nibbles to slow down as well. "The Mawsworn are here?"

A nod.

She glances at Pelagos. "That's great." When Pelagos frowns and Nibbles lets out a wary hiss, Liila looks from one to the other. "The Jailer didn't take his forces with him when he came here, right? Xandria was saying she thinks there's a back way into the realm, and if the Mawsworn are coming here, then there has to be, yes? So we're not as stranded as we thought."

Pelagos arches his brow, but nods, following her logic.

Liila motions to the fruit, picking it back up before Nibbles can make her. "You said this came from them?"

Nibbles shakes his head.

The devourer makes a few more hand motions before abruptly sitting back on his haunches and letting his massive hands slap against the water, creating mini waves that disappear back into the still waters far too quickly.

"He's frustrated," Liila murmurs.

"I can tell."

Nibbles seems to think it over a moment before making the sign for Mawsworn again.

"Mawsworn," Liila translates for Pelagos.

Nibbles takes a fruit and holds it up before setting it carefully in front of him on the water's surface. He makes the sign for Mawsworn again, and using the hand that is still holding that sign, smashes the fruit.

"They're destroying these," Liila says.

Nibbles splays his fingers as he moves his hands out and circles them back in, palms down.

"They're destroying everything."

A nod.

"So if you didn't take these, they would have been destroyed anyway," Liila surmises.

Nibbles lets out an affirmative click.

Even as Nibbles tries to use the fruit to explain further, arranging the extra ones in patterns and then pointing and gesticulating, Liila realizes that her hip feels better. She rocks a little where she sits, letting her weight shift as she tests what makes her hip ache.

Pelagos is ready to tell her to stop when he realizes what she's doing and why. "It's healing you already?" Even as he speaks, Nibbles is pointing to his own arm again. Pelagos looks down at the fruit and then takes in a breath to steel himself. "If we're to get past the Mawsworn, we will need to be in good shape."

"Fighting shape," Liila translates when Nibbles flexes and pretends to claw something.

After another moment's hesitation, Pelagos takes another bite from his fruit. He savors the taste, letting it melt on his tongue. "This is almost like what purian used to taste like, before the drought."

"Really?"

He nods, "The less anima there is, the less strongly they taste." He eyes the fruit he's holding. "Though I'm not sure purian ever had this much anima in them." He tilts his head. "And if we take this anima, it's a few drops more that the Mawsworn don't have access to, since they're likely gathering it for themselves."

Nibbles nods.

"But the First Ones never intended mortals or souls or anyone to be here. Partaking in this is…borderline sacrilege." He puffs out his cheeks with displeasure and then looks around.

"We're not supposed to be here, either, so I think we're already in sacrilege territory."

He rolls his eyes toward Liila, frowning.

"We're not doing as bad as the Mawsworn." Liila holds up her fruit and toasts it with Pelagos'.

He sighs and taps his against hers. "First Ones forgive us."

She finishes her fruit, pleased to find that the little seeds inside are crunchy, but don't taste bad. No sooner is it gone, Nibbles is placing another fruit into her hand and gently curling her fingers around it, as though to make certain she will not set it aside.

Pelagos' arm is already looking better.

They each eat two fruit before deciding that they should save the rest for later. While Nibbles clearly disapproves, he is content to pick up the parts of his bounty that Liila and Pelagos cannot tuck away in the pouches on their belts when he sees that they are both moving easier.

With a few quick motions, he leads them across the waters. Occasionally, he darts forward and disappears into the mists, but he always lopes back shortly afterwards, sometimes adjusting their course a hair, always pausing upon return to sniff each of them, as though to make sure they have not regressed in his absence.

The mists let up so gradually that Liila is not sure when the sky above becomes visible, but when she realizes it, she stops in her tracks for it is like no sky she has ever seen. It is patterned with glowing hexagons that pulse light. The air is light and breezy, and massive metallic orbs hang in the sky, etched with maze-like designs. A few have plants growing up out of them, the likes of which she is sure she has never seen before.

"This is incredible," Pelagos breathes, staring up with her.

Even Nibbles takes a moment to sit back and look up, quietly impressed by the strangeness of the world around them.

The sound of strange chimes draws Liila from her awe, and she looks around until she sees something moving in the distance. Something humanoid.

Though she tenses at first, there is something about the way it moves that makes her think it is not Mawsworn.

That, and she does not feel the vile corruption that seems to seep out of every creature born of the Maw.

"Hello?" She calls out, and her voice feels like it carries further than it should.

The creature does not respond. Liila glances at Nibbles and motions toward the strange being, but Nibbles merely shrugs. She can guess that he was avoiding everything, not wanting to get into a fight when he was looking for ways to help her and Pelagos.

Pelagos trots past them then, determination molding his features into something quite handsome. Liila and Nibbles follow him.

He calls out a greeting when they are closer, but again, the creature does not respond.

As they draw nearer, they see that some of the orbs are half submerged in the water, with a few strange platforms near them, as well as the first plants within the water that they have seen.

The creature is not alone.

Though, now that she can see it better, she is not sure 'creature' is a word for it at all. Its body is metallic, and it reminds her of a cross between something Haa'aji might make in his spare time and one of bastion's constructs.

"Machines?" Pelagos asks, as though he will get an answer.

One turns and emits a series of musical chime sounds as it looks to another, who responds in kind. Their voices, if they can be called that, rise and fall like music, though it is nothing Liila has ever heard before.

Everything about this place is so…foreign.

Pelagos hesitates and then walks closer. "Please, we need help. We—" The machine nearest him turns and starts walking straight toward him. It corrects its course to go around him before they can collide, but aside from that, does not seem to acknowledge him at all.

Liila steps up to another and puts her hand on its arm. "Can you hear—"

The machine stops then, gaze moving to her hand. It reaches out and carefully lifts her hand from its arm before letting her go and continuing on, as though it is merely untangling itself from a vine or brushing off a bug.

Nibbles jumps in front of one and growls and clicks, snapping and chittering away.

The machine ignores him completely, and only reacts when Nibbles touches it, again moving just enough to extricate itself from the unwanted contact before resuming its task.

Another one 'speaks'.

Liila tries to mimic some of the tones.

One of them looks at her then, tilts its head and speaks in that strange musical language.

She tries again to mimic it, but she must not do a good job, for it instantly loses interest in her and goes back to what it was doing.

Maintenance of some kind, if she had to guess.

It ignores all further attempts on her part to communicate.

"I guess we're not worth their time," Liila murmurs.

"I don't think it's that," Pelagos says, watching as they work, occasionally walking around the three of them, completely indifferent, "I think we're just not relevant to what they're doing."

"So you think if we broke something, they might notice us?"

"I think it's better to leave them alone," Pelagos says, looking around. "They outnumber us, and I wouldn't want to anger the First Ones by making enemies with their creations."

While Liila wants to argue that shouldn't they all be considered the First Ones' creations, she remembers that in Ulduar, Algalon did say that Azeroth had gone off plan. Perhaps it is better not to draw attention to themselves after all. Or at least not herself.

Though…would she still be considered an anomaly now that she's dead and kyrian?

In the end, she follows Pelagos' lead, wandering through the little area until they come to a massive wall that towers far above them. Nibbles fumbles with the fruit he is still carrying before setting it down in a small pile and then eyeing Liila and Pelagos. He makes clawing motions toward the wall, rising up onto his toes before letting himself fall back.

"You climbed this, didn't you?"

When Nibbles nods, Pelagos frowns. "We can't very well do that."

Nibbles lets out a few clicks and snaps that say he knows that quite well. One of his motions is to their small hands, like he is complaining about their distinct lack of claws.

However, even as they muse over whether they can hold on to Nibbles' back while he scales the wall, Nibbles abruptly reaches up and catches a burst of anima as it hurdles toward him. He growls, settling into a crouch and turns toward the direction it came from, but Pelagos holds up a hand for him wait, stepping between Nibbles and his attacker.

A broker stands before them, another spell stalling around his fingertips as he registers what is before him.

Who are before him.

And then he lets the spell dissipate.

"Kyrian? Here? With a devourer, no less? The wonders never cease."


Xandria stands beside the Primus, appraising the gateway. Last time, when the Jailer went through, he had merely shut it off behind him. This time the gateway itself has been corrupted. Instead of the golden light that should emanate from its center, it flickers violently as darker tendrils of Maw magic curl through it and lash out at anyone who gets too close.

She can see the claw marks on the lower part of the stone, where Nibbles had clung to it just before getting flung through with his passengers.

Drumming her fingers against her trident's shaft, she glances around.

Nothing about the attack makes sense. She and Vesiphone reclaimed their kin form the Maw; she knows they did. She has been back to that wicked place time and time again and the skies of the Maw are clear. There are no more helsworn.

So where did these ones come from?

They have removed the helms from a few of the fallen and she has recognized two. One was a disciple who fell in the Maw during their first assault.

Are the Mawsworn somehow bringing back the fallen as Liila did?

Or is this the Jailer's doing?

Helya has been banished from the Shadowlands, so it must be someone else's work…

Before she can think to ask the Primus if he knows what is going on, she feels a familiar warmth wash over her and turn in time to see the Archon alight on the platform.

That she has left the realm herself…

No sooner have the Archon's feet touched the platform, vines spiral outward from a point on the other side, growing rapidly to form a massive bloom that swirls up and opens to reveal the Winter Queen. The flower fades away as she steps from within it.

The Primus nods to them.

Three gods in one place…

It makes Xandria uneasy to think of the empty realms, but she knows better than to voice such concerns.

"Tal-Inara, Renathal," the Winter Queen says and both straighten up and come closer.

The Winter Queen focuses on the gateway and begins to channel her anima. The Primus and Archon join her. And then Tal-Inara and Prince Renathal follow suit.

They are far weaker additions to the spell, but it seems to be enough.

Those hateful tendrils of corruption lash out slower and slower, and it is a little like watching the mortals' purification spell in action. Finally, the corruption dissipates in a burst, and the gateway lies inert and quiet on the Arbiter's chamber floor.

"We don't need new sigils, do we?"

Xandria turns to look back at the mortal Mitchell, where he stands with a few others. They have been quiet until now, and the whole lot of them look so…exhausted. She pities them. While she has not lived in eons, she does know that the physical shell grows weary faster than the soul.

"We still have the sigils," the Primus says, almost offhandedly.

"Then let's do this!" Mitchell says.

Xandria cannot help the half-smile that curls her lips as she looks down at the mortals. They have all already regathered their weapons and bags. They are ready to head into the unknown.

Ready to follow their friend.

For a second, Xandria thinks she can feel something of Liila, a whisper of regret and desperation. As she tries to focus on it, to reach back, the feeling vanishes.

Xandria's brow knits together as she tries to figure out what that was, as she realizes that she is not feeling Liila like she should.

However, before she can reach back, the gateways creaks as it lifts off the ground to hover as it should.

Again, the gods focus their might upon it, reclaiming their sigils from the Primus.

Anima crackles, gold bursts to life along the inner edges of the gateway.

And then it swirls and goes out.

The Archon steps closer to it, resting a hand against the ancient stone. There is a moment of impossible silence before she looks back at the Primus. "It has been disconnected from the other end."

The Primus growls. Xandria has never been one to fall to intimidation, but the sound does send a chill through her. She imagines it is healthy to be wary of angry gods.

"Xandria," the Archon calls to her and she stands at attention. "Prepare to sweep the Maw again. If there is another way into Zereth Mortis, we must find it."


Pelagos gives Avna and Bud a short nod as Avna points toward the southern gate leading out of Haven. He trots down the path, heading for the cave with the waystone in it, when he sees Liila sitting near the pond just south of the path. He is a little relieved that she has not gone back to the waystone again.

After all, it is not her fault that she cannot activate it.

It needs a living touch.

When Pelagos comes up to her, however, a small tray of cheeses and fruits in hand, he frowns.

Liila has dozens of pages of parchment spread out around her, with different bits of spell scribbled across them.

"Hey," he says, careful to school his tone so that he does not sound too concerned. "What's all this?"

"I'm trying to remember my resurrection spells," Liila murmurs, not looking up. She is carefully penning some symbols that look vaguely familiar. Pelagos idly remembers seeing them in her spellbook, ages ago.

He stares at the pages, with half-formed spells written and scribbled out. Perhaps the answer is obvious, but he hopes against hope that he is wrong. "Who exactly do you plan to resurrect?"

"Myself."

After a moment, she looks up at him and frowns when she sees the way his lips are pressed together in a tight line. "I didn't think you'd want me to try to bring you back."

"I do not," Pelagos concedes.

"So who else is there?" Liila motions around, pen in hand sending a few droplets of anima-rich ink flying. "Nibbles and the Brokers aren't alive or dead, near as I can tell. The automa and jiro are 'of death'. And I don't think anyone wants to trust a resurrected mawsworn to do it. I'm the only one left."

"You have no living body to return to, Liila."

"I can make one," she mutters. "If I could bring the dead in the Maw back into existence, then I can make a body. Surely. There's just a matter of converting the essences of death to living and that's basic transmutation. I've done that plenty of times…"

She starts scribbling on the paper again.

Pelagos fights back the urge to start gathering the papers to take them away from her.

He almost wishes she was still staring despondently at the waystone now.

"Or you could rest," Pelagos begins, but stops when he sees the look she shoots him. "You said it yourself. Xandria is trying to find a back way into the realm. She's capable. I'm sure it's just a matter of time until—"

"We don't have time, Pel. He's tearing the realm apart as we speak." She is looking over her notes now, fingers brushing against the parchment as though trying to conjure something back.

When Pelagos looks at her notes more carefully, he realizes the problem.

All of the spells are incomplete, fragmented.

He gathers a few of the papers to her left and sits there, spreading them out in front of him even as she starts to protest. "You can't remember your spells, can you?"

Liila stills a moment, ink slowly blotting and consuming the symbol she was drawing. "It's right there. If I can just…" She trails off, staring down at the papers. "I feel fine. Better than fine. This is the best I've ever felt, so why can't I—"

"Because you lost those memories when you died," he says softly. And then corrects himself, "Or when you crossed the Veil."

"I have never been this incompetent," she says, voice wavering with anguish. "I can remember some of the notes from Pallessa's journal, but she didn't deal with any resurrection spells, and…"

"You're not incompetent," Pelagos says, and then perks up. He knows Liila well enough to know that she won't be likely to let this go. He does not want to feed this budding obsession, but perhaps being able to gather her thoughts or at least string a proper spell together might calm her nerves. It might be folly, but he decides that it is not like there is much else to do, and the Enlightened likely don't appreciate how many of their resources she's using trying to draw back what isn't there. "I remember flipping through your spell book."

When Liila pauses to eye him, he motions to himself and then around. "If we can find material to make a soulmirror, I could make a copy of the memory. We could go over it. I don't know that you'd be able to resurrect yourself, but—"

"It's a start," Liila says. She hastily gathers her papers, putting them into an odd sort of order that Pelagos imagines must make some sort of sense to her. "What do we need for the mirror?"


Thales sits in a quiet corner of Courage, trying not to feel anxious as he eavesdrops on a few ascended discussing leaving the realm to go to the Maw.

The temple feels vulnerable, and it makes a pit form inside of him. If they are attacked again…

He tries to assure himself that it will be alright, that he has heard the Jailer is already in Zereth Mortis, so it's not like there is a reason to attack the temple.

Unless the Jailer gets whatever it is he is after and comes to unmake them.

He is not sure what prompts him to do it, but he takes a cloth he has been using to polish a few weapons and he ties it over his eyes. It is the first time he has dared to do something like this, the first time he has felt safe enough that he will not somehow lose his eyes again if he lets the darkness behind his lids last more than a second or two.

With his sight gone, he finds that he can feel the world just as easily as before. He lets the flow of anima wash over him, through him. He can feel the temple's wards in place, can feel the gentle ethereal hum of spells around him.

He is not sure how long he sits there, acclimating himself to the feel of what cannot be seen, but he senses when someone is coming closer and quickly pulls the blindfold from his face lest they see. He is not sure he can explain what he is doing if someone asks.

When he turns, he finds Kleia has alighted near him. She looks like she has been crying, though he does not say anything about it.

In Maldraxxus, it was a point of contention that they learned from their Maldraxxi allies. One might break down, might show weakness, but it was considered rude to acknowledge it. He and the other kyrian in the Seat of the Primus had found a solace in that lack of attention themselves. Sometimes when it was too much, they had let themselves cry, and then had gathered themselves up and gone on, like it hadn't happened.

After all, it wasn't like there were words that could help with what they were going through.

And so as Kleia approaches him, with tear streaks on her cheeks, he pretends he does not see them and greets her as warmly as he dares.

She does not try to smile. Her gaze lowers. "Liila is missing."

His brow pinches together.

"I thought you should hear it from me instead of…" she trails off, a fresh tear beading on her eyelashes.

"She'll show back up," Thales says without thinking. When Kleia's brow pinches together and she raises her gaze, he shrugs, unable to help himself. "She always does."

Kleia's smile is weak, and there is no conviction in her voice when she says, "Of course."

"Do you want to sit with me for a while?" Thales offers, patting the crate beside him. Even as he realizes that it is a little small to offer to an ascended, Kleia shakes her head.

"I have to get back to my temple. I just thought you deserved to know."

Before he can ask her if there is more to what has happened than she is saying, she takes to the air and soars off.

Thales watches her disappear into the distance, feeling that pit in his stomach returning. He has seen the look in Kleia's eyes before, in the eyes of those in Maldraxxus who were being overwhelmed with guilt. After all they had been through there, some of the ones that were lost were lost to that very guilt, after they had made it to safety.

It might be nothing, and yet…

Getting up, Thales decides to look for Thanikos. He is worried for Kleia, and figures if there is anyone who can help, perhaps it will be another Hand.


The Mawsworn are mostly leaving Haven alone. Apparently, whatever it is that the Jailer is after is on the other side of the realm, and though he badgered them at first, he seems to have decided that whatever he's after, the Enlightened do not have it.

As such, they are not worth his time.

Mostly.

The Enlightened have noticed that someone or -thing has been picking off their people who wander too far.

That is how Pelagos and Liila got them to work with them initially, by occasionally patrolling the outer grounds and smiting whatever they find that is corrupting the wildlife or sneaking toward the small village.

At first, Pelagos all but insists Liila stay in the village while he does rounds with a few of the willing Enlightened.

And that is why she is surprised when he says that he thinks it will be alright for her to wander with him to search for reagents to make a soulmirror. Perhaps he can tell that she is going to drive herself mad if left to her own devices. Or perhaps he understands that with her comes Nibbles, and he is the best tank they've got.

Not that Liila wants to use him as such. She is fairly certain that Nibbles still counts as young, even if he is a giant towering over them now, and she wishes she could do more to keep him safe. However, he is very apparent about how little he thinks of that idea, strutting up to the edges of the village to display the items he has secured on their behalf.

Broken weapons, bits of Maw armor, many strange fruits.

Liila is a little worried to notice golden bands are starting to form on Nibbles' arms and legs. The realm is changing him.

She's checked herself for such changes, asked the Enlightened about it, but they simply say so long as she does not consume that which is not meant to be consumed, she will be fine.

Liila is trying to explain this to Nibbles as they walk—he seems to be picking up new words and signs faster than before—when Pelagos' eyes go wide, and he hunches low, tugging Liila back behind a few of those odd orbs that pock the land. Pelagos peeks around the edge of it and then takes a step back, carefully pushing Liila further back, in an attempt to keep her behind him.

"The mawsworn haven't been out here before…"

Liila tries to peek past him, but he is quick to catch her. When she gives him a puzzled look, he gives her a pointed frown.

"Your soul is still healing," Pelagos asserts, standing a little taller.

That is when Liila notices that she has to look down to meet his gaze.

Since bonding with Xandria, she has found that she is taller than most aspirants. An apparent side effect of being soulbound to someone so powerful is that Xandria's power bleeds into Liila, unintentionally. Then, with the Primus' boon, she's sure she gained another inch or two.

Pelagos, however, has not had such boons, but it is jarring to see that she is so much taller than him.

He doesn't seem to notice.

"We have to go back."

"We have to make a mirror."

"We can't make a mirror if we meet our true deaths."

Liila narrows her eyes at him, inspecting his features. He is resolute, his features somehow firmer than before, like he has grown up, almost. Perhaps he has just been through too much these last few months.

Even as Liila is about to concede, movement behind him catches her eye, and she jerks him forward. "Look out!"

She can hear the sound of cloth tearing as she tugs him into her. They both topple to the ground.

Pelagos is quick to throw up a few protective spells around them. He grips Liila by her arm and forces them both to their feet, pushing her ahead of him, back toward Haven.

"Go! I'm right behind you!"

The words are said with such conviction that it is not until Liila realizes she only hears her own footfalls thudding softly into the grasses that he has lied.

She turns back.

Pelagos stands between her and half a dozen mawsworn. Nibbles is evening the odds somewhat, tossing a few about with the glee only a devourer can have.

Pelagos however, is not in a good position to fend off those left. Worse, Liila can see that some others are coming from around the orb, moving to trap him from behind.

She starts to move back toward him, opens her mouth to yell.

And then he does something she's never seen before.

It is a spell, but unlike anything she has ever seen a kyrian cast. It is like a nova of anima. It tosses the swarming Mawsworn back, killing two instantly and stunning the rest. Nibbles is on his third kill, and completely ignores when Pelagos calls to him.

As Pelagos utters something in frustration too low for her to make out, he turns and sees that Liila has stopped. His eyes widen with horror, and he starts sprinting toward her. "Liila, run!"

She turns and sees the glint of light off metal and knows what is coming. Time seems to stall. For a second, she is willing to eat the blade, to let it hit home and show her adversary what happens when they make the mistake of killing her.

And then she remembers that her curse is gone, that this strike will be the end of her if it hits.

She panics, mind racing, going back to her other tricks that she has used to escape death when she felt the weight of it was too much.

She disperses, lets the blade travel harmlessly through shadows as she throws herself to the side and reforms. Then she calls the shadows to her.

But of course, they do not come.

Instead, she finds herself standing before her assailant, drained from the spell she has just managed, and utterly helpless.

Just as she dodges another blow, something hits the mawsworn from behind. The body slumps to the ground to reveal Pelagos on its other side, dagger in one hand and anima swirling around the other, ready to strike again, if need be.

His gaze follows their enemy down and then snaps up to Liila.

When did he become such a skilled fighter?

There is a question on the tip of his tongue, but Nibbles lets out a high shriek.

"Stay near me," he says, firmly, as he looks around the field and then heads to where Nibbles is still fending off most of the Mawsworn.

Liila picks up the nearest mawsworn's staff as she rushes after him. She has never been great in physical combat, but she manages to distract their enemies enough that they do not see Pelagos or Nibbles come in with the killing blow.

When their enemies lay sprawled across the field, Pelagos turns to Liila, and angrily takes the staff from her. "You shouldn't be doing that when your soul is still mending."

"I can't just do nothing," Liila retorts. "I won't be a liability to you—"

Rather than argue, he just shakes his head. He catches her arm and heals a small cut there before he starts inspecting her with more care, scanning her in a way that feels similar to what Vesiphone has done in the past. Nibbles snuffles Liila quickly before deciding that she is fine and wanders a little, inspecting their fallen enemies.

As Pelagos starts to warn her that she needs to be so much more careful, the faintest of noises catches Liila's attention and she holds up a finger, brow knitting.

"Did you hear that?"

Pelagos frowns, tensing as he scans their surroundings for more enemies. "Hear what?"

Se holds up a finger, listening. Not for the first time, she quietly curses her tiny useless ears. She is certain that if she still had her ears, she would already know what it was.

She strains to hear over the gentle sounds of wind and plant movement around them.

Just as she is ready to admit she must not have actually heard anything, Pelagos perks up.

The gentlest whisper of a melody, almost like chimes, sounds faintly in the distance.

Pelagos starts to tell her to go back to Haven, but reconsiders on his own when he looks back to see how far she would have to travel on her own. He shakes his head. "Come on."

She and Nibbles follow him as he leads the way, to where the Mawsworn were when they first stumbled across them. There is a circular door set into a tall cliff face, and it has been sundered awkwardly to allow entry. Nibbles blinks through as Pelagos carefully eases himself through the ragged crack in the metal and then offers his hand to help Liila through. She's tempted to just disperse and slip past him, but doubts he'll be very pleased with her.

And anyway, she still feels the wear of using the last spell.

She takes his hand, letting him pull her into the cool hall. Inside is almost as bright as the outside world, even though she cannot really tell where the light is coming from.

However, now, she can definitely hear that melody more clearly, and is sure that it is an automa.

It sounds sorrowful, distressed.

Then she recognizes the sound of mawsworn laughter, the unceremonious clink of metal sabatons.

Pelagos gives her a stern frown. "Stay near me."

Liila gives him a small nod, and motions for him to lead the way.

The hall is a long one, and it leads into a large, circular chamber that has a handful of doors branching off of it on multiple levels. Destroyed automa are scattered around the room, and the mawsworn—there are more than either Liila or Pelagos expected—are now divided between fending off Nibbles and trying to get through another door that is skewed.

The voice is coming from behind the door.

Pelagos and Liila enter the fray. This time, Pelagos presses his dagger into her hands, something for her to defend herself with.

She needs it, too.

There are more mawsowrn than they realized—some were apparently down other corridors, trying to find a way into the one that the others were gathered around—and once again, it is a struggle to keep up. They are separated easily, outnumbered as they are, and Liila feels so damned helpless. She is tempted to run, if only to allow Pelagos and Nibbles the ability to focus on their own adversaries instead of constantly trying to protect her as well.

She should not have come out here.

It is too late now, however, and so she fends off those who come after her as best she can, and tries to distract others again. This time, it doesn't work so well, and she is tossed into a wall quickly, hitting near where the door is ajar.

Pelagos, for all his skill, cannot make up for their lack of numbers. One of the mawsworn circles around behind him, slamming him in the back of the head. He falls to his knees in the water that is at the center of the room even as Nibbles flings the mawsworn from him with increasingly frantic movements.

As Liila struggles to stand, she hears that odd, melodic voice again. This time, however, it does not sound quite so terrified. This time, there is another note in the melody.

Hope.

Abruptly, Liila is overwhelmed with a sense of understanding, like something is flooding her mind with all the little details she has forgotten and adding more.

So much more.

She reaches out to the anima around her, pulls it to her, similar to how she used shadows in life. It comes to her readily, and all at once, it is like she is back.

Liila Dragonlily is returned to her former glory, though instead of darkness swirling around her, lashing out at her whim, it is tendrils of anima. It is bright and pure and cool. It comes from everywhere and nowhere, answering her call, doing her bidding.

It is far more potent than any shadow, far more potent than any finicky Light.

With a flourish of her hands, the anima decapitates her attacker, and his head spirals off into the waters.

A similar boon seems to have been granted to Pelagos and Nibbles alike, for they, too, move with a sudden fluidity, a sudden purpose almost as though they are being guided by some unseen hand.

The battle turns so abruptly, with Pelagos switching between healing and attacking, and Liila manipulating anima as though she has done so for eons. It flows so naturally. She has read Agthia's scrolls, made mental notes of how to alter her spells, and yet she had not expected that it would come this easily to her.

She feels like her old self.

Better even.

She moves across the battle with ease, unconcerned with the reprimands that might follow if she disobeys Pelagos' directions to avoid as much fighting as possible.

The tiredness that comes with casting hits her only after their final foe has fallen, and even then, it is not the bone-weary exhaustion that has hounded her of late.

"What just happened?" Pelagos says, shaking his head and looking around, bewildered.

Nibbles seems equally awed, testing a few jabs and clawing the air as though to see if his newfound strength is some farce.

As Liila releases her hold on the anima around her and lets it seep softly back into the world, Pelagos rushes past her. "Here!"

He catches the door even as it teeters and threatens to fall closed against a hand that hangs limply through the sliver of an opening. Liila darts after him, though Nibbles gets there first. His massive claws cause bits of the wall to crumble away as he digs them through the narrow opening and pulls the doorway back. It barely budges, but it is just enough that Liila and Pelagos can get ahold of the creature who is there, limp against the doorframe, and pull it through.

Before Liila can wonder if it is too late, the creature makes a few soft chiming noises at them, and Liila is certain that there is a 'thank you' somewhere in those indescribable sounds. When the creature is clear, Liila peeks into the hall to see that it is empty and then nods to Nibbles. No sooner has the devourer pulled his hands back, the door snaps shut with a finality that echoes into the chamber.

"I can't…I'm sorry. I don't understand."

Pelagos is holding the creature's hand as it speaks in that beautiful melody, and as Liila and Nibbles draw closer, its head falls against Pelagos' shoulder.

He looks up, panicked. "She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't… it felt like it was almost there, like it almost made sense, but then…" He shakes his head. "I don't know what happened."

"We should get her out of here before more mawsworn show up," Liila says, leaning down and brushing her fingertips against the creature's forehead. She's not sure how she can tell, but she knows the creature is merely sleeping.

With a nod, Pelagos starts to move to try to shoulder their new companion, but Nibbles beats him to it, slipping a massive arm under her and cradling her against his chest. It is the gentlest the devourer has ever been, and Liila is a little awed by how gingerly Nibbles moves with her, as though he knows just how precariously her life hangs in the balance.


Kleia cannot concentrate.

She is back in Devotion, assisting as a Hand should, but she keeps getting distracted by the fact that Pelagos should be there.

Liila, too, of course, but Pelagos…

She has known him for eons. They have been soulbound for eons. He is so much a part of her and now…

It was painful and jarring when she lost her connection to Liila, but losing Pelagos is having a much more profound effect on her. It is not an emptiness that has replaced him, but worse. There is no hole where he was.

There is simply nothing.

Silence.

His joy, his trepidation, his determination, his insecurities. All of it has become a part of her, and to have it absent…

To not feel him respond to her own emotions is so unbearably lonely.

It is like what happened with her first soulbind. They drifted apart, and this is how it felt, even when she had stood before her friend, happy to see her, only for the ascended to ask if they could undo their connection.

It had been weakening on its own, but she still hadn't thought that this would happen.

And now she can't feel Pelagos, and she doesn't know if it's because their binding has been damaged or if he is dead or if something else that she can't even imagine has happened.

Her gaze goes to the corners where he usually sits, to the paths he usually walks. She hears footfalls coming her way and looks up, knowing it will be him, with something curious he has found in the scrolls or news of Liila or questions or…

It should be him.

And yet it never is.

The aspirants see the way her face falls when they approach, and she apologizes each time. She has been training herself to look neutral, so that her disappointment at being brought back to reality is not so apparent, when Adrestes calls her to him.

"Don't close yourself off," he tells her quietly, sitting on the edge of one of the highest platforms as he watches the temple below hum with activity. "Just be honest. Tell them you miss your soulbind. They will understand."

It is true enough. After all, many of those here have lost their soulbinds as well.

Though…does Pelagos really count as lost?

Why couldn't she protect him? The one person who mattered the most to her and she wasn't there when he needed her…

The tears come then, and she has to land beside Adrestes, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes as she tries not to cry.

Adrestes' large hand rests on her head for a moment before he withdraws himself. "You can let yourself cry."

At that, Kleia looks up at him with bleary eyes. "I'll let myself cry when you let yourself cry for Liila."

"They might not be dead," is all he says, though his voice sounds detached, mechanical. They sit in silence for a long moment before Adrestes says, "If I hadn't let Liila go, you could have stayed close to Pelagos."

Kleia snorts despite herself. "That never would have worked. I couldn't stay near Liila, either." She hesitates before looking up at him. "None of this is your fault."

"It's not yours, either," he counters.

She stands there a moment before sitting with him. "I should have protected them."

"You did all you could, Kleia. No one blames you."

"I blame me."

"I'd order you to stop it, but I imagine your guilt is no more easily shed than mine."

Kleia merely nods, realizing a moment too late that he is trying to make a joke.

The Eternal Ones have purified the gateway that should open the way to Zereth Mortis, but it cannot open properly because something has happened to its partner. The attendants are trying to brainstorm how to fix this matter, but there is little anyone can do. While they work on fixing the gateway, Xandria, Draka, and Lord Herne are scouring the Maw for a way to follow after the Jailer based on a few rumors and missing mawsworn.

It all feels so…hopeless.

It has been a week.

A week of not knowing if her two best friends have met their true deaths, a week of not knowing just how badly she failed those dearest to her.

Kosmas has come by twice, but she has not been a very good hostess. She can't hold a smile long and even as much as she likes having him near, she can't help but wonder if she will be able to protect him, should the need ever come. She is failing everyone else, after all.

She should not have been made a Hand. Ever since she got her promotion, it seems that she has fallen short.

If Pelagos were here, he would tell her that was nonsense. He would tell her all the good she has done and assure her that she is doing her best and that he can see it.

But he's not here.

He may never be here again.

"I've thought I felt him once or twice," Kleia admits. "But I think it's just wishful thinking."

"Don't be so sure," Adrestes says, and for the first time, he seems to perk up. He motions to Kleia and then south. "Xandria said the same thing. She's sure that Liila's alive. Even if I can't feel her. Even if Nikolon can't feel Pelagos. We think it's just because the realm they're in is closed off, sealed away. If we can get it open, we'll be able to feel them again."

Kleia nods. She doesn't want to talk about this, if she's honest, but she knows that Adrestes is hurting too, that he has been quietly reprimanding himself for letting Liila go, that he feels her loss acutely and is struggling with the idea that they may never get her back.

She does her best to show him that his words do make her feel better, and he finally dismisses himself to make rounds.

The next time she hears footfalls coming up to her, she does her best to keep a pleasantly neutral expression and notices how much more relieved the aspirant seems when her face does not fall.

It hurts, but she is sure she can be strong.

If nothing else, she will do it for Pelagos and Liila, so that when they are back, when they are home, they will not have a need to chastise her for worrying too much.

Because they will come back.

She just needs to have faith.

Faith has kept her going through the drought and the rebellion, so surely it can keep her going now.

Surely…

The other hands help a little with distracting her from everything, in truth. Thanikos was the first to show up, offering her some tips about juggling responsibilities as a Hand, as well as some tips with juggling in general. He had managed to make her smile for a second or two before he had to head back to his temple, but his visit was the first of many from the other hands. Arios comes by the most often, as their temples are so close together.

He is happy to offer her tips, to show her hidden places in the temple that he has found from eons of visiting, and to listen to any and all of her questions. The Hands have also shared some of their more embarrassing stories of blundering their responsibilities, too. Eridia has told her of the time she accidentally conjured the wrong memories for a cleansing aspirant and how the memories conjured had wreaked havoc in their corner of the temple for almost a day before Vesiphone had returned from Elysian Hold to calm things down. Voitha tells of the time got impatient with a nervous aspirant and made them cry. Arios once forgot an aspirant in one of the less used libraries and they were found trying to scale the cliffs to get back to the rest of the temple.

They have all spent eons bearing the mantle they carry, but they all admit that it takes time to learn the ropes, to learn to balance everything, and that even then, there are times when they slip up. Thanikos has wondered how many aspirants he might have saved from falling from the Path, if he had been more diligent. The others echo such musings, though Kleia cannot see that they could do more than they already have.

It helps a little, to think that she is not alone in feeling overwhelmed, but at the same time, she still looks at them and sees that they are carrying their weight. It is when Thanikos tells her quietly, "I sent someone else to update Xandria about what had happened with the Locus instead of going straight back myself. I sometimes wonder if I could have saved even one more aspirant, if I had gotten to the temple a little faster. I should have been there."

He is quick to smile and play off any concerns in front of aspirants and ascended alike, but it breaks Kleia' heart to know that he blames himself for something that is not his fault.

And it makes her think about how she blames herself about what has happened to Liila and Pelagos.

However, just because she can see the parallels between their experiences, just because she knows that Thanikos is not at fault and therefore she shouldn't be considered at fault either…

It does not make the fact that they are gone hurt any less.

But it does help, and she is grateful for her fellow Hands, as well as for Adrestes.

It is almost a week after her talk with Adrestes when Kleia finally wears herself ragged enough that she needs proper rest. She has barely needed to sleep since her ascension, but she has slept even less than usual since Pelagos' and Liila's disappearance.

It takes her far too long to drift to sleep, but she finally manages.

And it is then, as her mind twists nightmares to trouble her sleep, that a connection is finally made.

It shatters the blurry images of her dream, and suddenly she is standing there, watching Mawsworn bear down on them. Pelagos summons anima, manipulates it in a way she's never seen before. As he fends off his attackers, her gaze draws with his to Liila where she is holding her own, fighting as well as she did before her final death, fighting like her soul was not shredded to pieces by the Jailer.

Nibbles is there, too, tossing enemies, and behind them, she sees a glowing hand from behind a door that hangs ajar.

Help me!

Even as the words sound, loud and clear in her ears, it is like the cosmos opens before her, and she can see a path, a way. It is as plain as the roads she has traveled through Bastion for eons, and she knows that if she leaves now, if she follows that path, she will make it to Pelagos' side.

Her wings spread, and she takes to the air, shooting forward as she follows the winding path, straight and true.

There is a euphoria that fills her as she follows that invisible road, as the In Between unfurls around her.

However, even as she shoots forward, it starts to grow foggy, like the way is fading already.

She tries to fly faster.

"Kleia! Stop!"

Kleia's eyes snap open, and she finds Pallessa in front of her, hands gripping her shoulders, her wings just barely batting against Kleia's, as Pallessa is too close.

The ascended searches her eyes, concerned. "Are you alright? You were in some kind of trance."

The words don't reach Kleia at first, as she blinks. There is something in the back of her mind, something strong and wise, a fountain of unknown knowledge pressed into her consciousness.

And it is slipping away.

She tries to cling to it, tries to make sense of what she saw, what she heard, but it is all dimming, like a fading dream.

The path forward is gone.

With a hiccupped sob, she nearly falls from the air as grief sweeps through her, grief so strong that at first she doesn't realize that something has changed.

It is not until Pallessa and Achillon get her back from the edges of the realm to the Temple of Devotion that she realizes she can feel the faintest curl of comfort inside of her.

From Pelagos.

It does not last long, but—for now—it is enough.

She is in tears when Adrestes alights before her, though she smiles up at him as he kneels in front of her.

"I felt him. Pelagos is alright."


Adrestes stands with the other paragons and Kleia and Nikolon within the Archon's private chambers. Translucent images of The Primus, Winter Queen, Prince Renathal, and Tal-Inara watch as the images play before them.

They are a combination of Kleia and Xandria's memories, copies that Adrestes thinks he could watch a hundred times and still not quite believe.

It is a battle, with all three of their people—for everyone agrees that Nibbles counts on the side of good at this point—fighting with a skill and tenacity that does not seem like it should be possible.

The Primus calls for them to stop the memory.

Adrestes' gaze is locked on Liila. She is mid jump, swirls of anima frozen around her so that it almost looks like wings of her own, her hair flying around her, eyes alert and focused, jaw clenched, brow pinched.

It takes a moment before he realizes that the Primus is pointing at a glowing hand that is barely visible at the edge of the memory.

"They have found an Oracle," the Primus says, and a fleeting smile stretches his weathered lips.

"But if they're fine, why haven't they opened the way?" Prince Renathal asks.

"Because only the living can use the waystones left by the First Ones," the Winter Queen says.

Something clenches inside of Adrestes as he looks at the image frozen before him.

They are fine, for now.

But they are still locked in a realm with the Jailer and his minions, and there is no way for the rest of them to reach them, to help them. Even with the skill they are seeing, how long can they possibly last?

"We may have a lead on how to get into the realm," Xandria offers. "If they can hang on a little longer, we can get to them. We can bring a mortal through the back way and open the waystone. If…"

Adrestes tries not to wince at that damnable word.

If.


Firim titters over the few trinkets Liila has brought him, and she leaves him to his research, instead going over to check on the Oracle. Pelagos gives her a stern look as she approaches.

"I hope you avoided the Mawsworn."

"As well as one can," Liila replies, brushing back her hood and letting her hair fall freely over her shoulders. Her hood is the same dull green that some of the Enlightened sport, and it has been a necessity to prevent her bright teal hair from sticking out against the scenery of Zereth Mortis.

They have both forsaken their aspirant attire for favor of colors that help them blend better with their surroundings. Their robes sit in a quiet corner in Firim's lair, folded neatly and waiting for the time they will be donned again.

Liila doesn't see that happening any time soon.

They have stolen the Oracle from the Jailer, after all, and he wants her and whoever has taken her very badly.

The Enlightened will not let them stay in Haven any longer, but Firim has taken them in. Even Nibbles.

And the newly made Pocopoc.

They have spent the last week in hiding, watching for the mawsworn patrols that are hunting them. While the Jailer knows that some of the Archon's little pets are in the realm, he doesn't seem to know who they are.

Liila feels like if he knew it was the two of them, two who have been nettling his forces for so long, that he would put more effort into finding them.

Or perhaps he is unconcerned because even with all they've done, they have never done much in the way of actually stopping him. Perhaps he plans to wait until he can remake reality to drag them before him, perhaps he will say he always knew where they were, that it was just a game.

Liila doesn't know.

But for now, they operate as though it is not a game, as though the Jailer has not yet won.

They pick off the mawsworn they dare to, leading the others on wild chases to corners of the realm that have nothing worthwhile in them. Or rather, Liila, Pocopoc, and Nibbles do. Pelagos does not leave the Oracle's side too often. He is ever the dutiful mender, ever trying to make sense of what she whispers when she has the energy to speak in that divine melody.

Liila has taken a different approach.

She has been studying the jiro, listening to how they interact, trying to make sense of their language by immersing herself in it whenever she can. Some of the jiro eye her, but they mostly pretend she is not there, and it allows her to listen all the better.

From what she can tell, they understand her just fine. It is in the way a few of them watch her when they think she is busy watching others, and how they seem to comment on Pocopoc.

She can catch a few phrases here and there, too.

She tried to mimic one only for one of the jiro in charge over to her and reprimand her. She sat patiently as it sang at her, catching some of the words, when one of the others came and motioned to her and she is quite sure told the other jiro to just let it go.

Liila has tried to mimic more of their sounds, but for the most part, she does not have the vocal cords for it.

A shame, truly.

Liila has always loved languages, and it is disappointing to think she will never be able to speak this one.

Despite having just returned from her most recent mischief within the realm, she quickly decides that she needs to head out again. Their stocks are getting a little low—they have been careful with Nibbles' bounty, but it has dwindled as time moves forward, despite their efforts—and Liila decides to head out with Pocopoc, to gather resources.

Pelagos wishes her well and warns her to be careful.

At first, he would not have let her out of his sight, but as time goes on, he has found that Liila is good enough at sneaking around, and it is easier to sneak in smaller groups. She and Pocopoc will be fine, and he can tend to the Oracle. He uses her scraps of paper to take notes on what he Oracle says, on what he can make out, and Liila has had to give up on her own resurrection project for the time being.

Nibbles is around less and less of late, and those golden bands on his limbs are growing brighter and bolder. Liila frets over him when he is not around, but manages to keep herself from being too much of a mother hen when he's around. He is getting larger, too.

Much larger.

It has been 2 days since she saw him last, and she hopes that she and Pocopoc will cross paths with him on their outing.

They do not stray too far—they do not want to garner the attention of the creatures that scour the realm for…whatever it is they are after.

Every day, Liila worries that they will find out that the Jailer has found what he seeks, that they have taken too long and lost the war.

As they walk, Liila practices some of what she has heard with Pocopoc and he replies in that sweet, strange language. She has found that he seems to support her more when she simply hums back at him, following his intonation rather than attempting his actual sounds.

And anyway, he has made it clear that he understands when she talks, no matter what language she uses, so it is really just a matter of her learning to understand him.

She is picking up the written language with considerably more ease, and can read much of the many signs and tablets she finds throughout the realm. The words are flowery and ambiguous, but she is excited to recognize them, none the less.

She and Pocopoc are making decent progress, wandering through a small, mostly abandoned ravine and gathering a few cactus like flowers and fruit when they hear the sharp sounds of a distressed automa.

Or at least, that is what Liila thinks until they come to a corner and peer around it to see what is going on.

The distressed creature is a jiro—Liila and Pelagos have asked Firim if jiro count as automa, but he merely shrugs and says that if they are, they are higher intelligence than most of the others. They seem to be directors of growth rather than simple sentries or tenders.

The jiro in question now, tiny thing that it is, is fending off a dreadlord.

Liila barely thinks before darting around the corner and conjuring anima like she would her shadows—Agthian animaweaving is incredibly refreshing. It flows around her so freely, so readily. Since the Oracle's blessing—or whatever that was—she has been able to manipulate anima easily, and it seems to get more potent with every cast.

It feels like an extension of herself as she calls it up and uses it to bind their enemy.

Before she can deal the final blow herself, the jiro strikes down their foe, with an impressive makeshift weapon that Liila has never seen a jiro wield before.

The creature barely pauses before it is floating toward Liila quickly, chiming frantically as it motions around the ravine and then reaches out and grips her hand.

It is with little effort that Liila can figure there are more dreadlords nearby, and more who need assistance. She gives the jiro a nod and squeezes its hand, and it starts off at a quick pace, leading her and Pocopoc deeper into the ravine, the search for sustenance all but forgotten.


When Pelagos goes out to see if he can spot Liila from the entrance to their little hideaway, it feels late.

There is no night in Zereth Mortis, not even the faint dimming of the world like Bastion has, so it is impossible to tell the days in any meaningful way here.

Even so, he knows that Liila has been gone for hours, and it should not have taken her this long.

He tries to summon Nibbles with a whisper, but the gorger has never seemed keen on answering his calls. He will fight with Pelagos, stand beside him, but it is Liila that he cares for and answers to.

He's considered asking her to soulbind with him again, as the Enlightened do have a relic with which they could do so, but he's not sure if she's actually well enough to do that. She is doing considerably better, and she can fight now so long as she manipulates the anima around her instead of using her own, to be sure, but that doesn't mean that her soul is repaired enough to do things like soulbinding.

And after all, she's bound to Xandria now, so it's not like she needs him.

Though, it would be nice to know that she's safe and to be able to feel if she's in danger, if she's as anxious as he is about the idea they may never get home. She cried the once when they first arrived, and he thinks she may have cried one other time, though she hid it from him. She has never been good with sharing her emotions outside of a bond.

And he misses having feelings echoing to him. It feels lonely now, with their bond broken and him unable to feel Kleia's steadfastness echoing inside of him, or that pull that tells him where Nikolon is.

Right after the Oracle buffed them, he had been sure he could feel Kleia, but that sense has faded, and the nothing that replaces it is unbearable.

Liila said she thought she felt Xandria, too, but hasn't mentioned if she can still feel some echo of the paragon.

For all he knows, she has that comforting echo of emotion returned to her and he is alone in this…nothingness.

That is why he hasn't asked yet. He worries he is only seeking her as a temporary replacement for Kleia. That he wants her near him to fill in for Nikolon's absence.

And they're doing well enough now, without the soulbinding.

Still, it is moments like this when he wonders if something has happened, and thinks of how much relief he would feel just to know that she is still out there, to feel her whirlwind of emotions blurring in the back of his mind.

He resolves to breach the subject when Liila gets back.

After all, she has said in the past that she misses him, too.

And it doesn't seem like soulbinding could hurt.

He finds himself heading down to the ancient road that loops through the entire realm, peering down it each way, looking for signs of her. He calls out to Nibbles again, to no avail.

Pelagos wanders a bit further into the fields beyond, searching for signs of Liila and Pocopoc. He's just made it to the far side of the field, to the odd hexagonal shaped rock formations, when he feels the unmistakable taint of the Maw.

They have been careful to avoid heavily occupied areas, and that if they do cross paths, to make sure they eliminate their foes so that they cannot report back that they are there. It's been a bit of a struggle, but they're fairly certain that if the Jailer does know they're there, he doesn't think they're anyone important. And they want to keep it that way.

Pelagos doesn't want him to know that Liila is here, especially after what the Jailer did to her last time.

This is not the first time Pelagos has felt the corruption of a passing fiend, and so he does his best to lay low, pressing himself against the wall and looking around for who is passing through.

When he doesn't see anyone, an unease begins to creep through him, and it is not until something moving in his peripheral vision catches his eye that he thinks to look up.

His heart sinks as he looks up at the helworn that is staring down at him.

The last he heard, Vesiphone and Xandria had wiped out the Jailer's aerial forces. They had reclaimed all the fallen kyrian they could and the rest perished.

So how is this kyrian before him even here…?

Or has the Jailer managed to make his own winged mawsworn?

Though…they were the ones who tainted the gateway in Oribos, weren't they? It shouldn't be that surprising to find some of them out here, as well.

The shock of seeing one of his fallen brethren here makes him stall too long.

Long enough that his adversary should have already skewered him.

And yet the helsworn seems as surprised as he is to see him there.

That's a good sign on the one hand—maybe they really have concealed their presence successfully.

On the other hand, that means he can't let this creature go.

If he reports to the Jailer…

He should fight, he knows this.

Yet somehow, he cannot bring himself to conjure any anima to attack.

As he tries to understand what is wrong with him, tries to will himself not to do something stupid, he hears a garbled voice call out and tenses. He can take one or two enemies on his own, but these ones are winged and all he needs is one to get out of range of his spells and report back.

This is bad.

Even as he wonders if he can trick them both—it's just two of them, right?—into drawing close enough to take out at once, that garbled voice calls out again, from just above Pelagos, near the tops of the rocks, almost close enough to glance down and see him. This time the voice is clear enough for him to hear what is being said.

"Did you find something?"

The helsworn looks up and waves his descending companion back toward the sky. "Nothing important. Just an automa I hadn't seen before."

"Offensive?"

"No," he replies, moving up to meet the other.

Pelagos stays low, tugging his hood lower over his face to make sure he is covered.

He stays there long after he can no longer hear the faint voices, long after he can no longer feel that essence of corruption.

He takes the long way home, making certain that he is not followed before returning to Firim's hideout. When he is almost back, Pelagos thinks better of it and takes a detour, going to an empty cave to settle down instead. He cannot shake the feeling that he should not go back to their base just yet. He doesn't want to accidentally lead mawsworn to Liila or Firim.

Or the Oracle.

He spends a few hours there, resting up, trying to figure out why he feels so uneasy.

Finally, it occurs to him that if he doesn't go back to Firim's soon, Liila may come looking for him, and she likely doesn't know about the helsworn just yet. That is what finally gets him to move.

Pelagos is cautious as he heads out of the cave, though he has barely made it a few steps into the open when that sense of corruption is very abruptly there, just behind him.

Pelagos whirls around, readying a spell to fight with.

He cannot be sure that it is the same helsworn from before, but he thinks it must be. He sits on one of the many strange orbs that dot the landscape, a smaller one, his tainted wings draping over the back and just barely brushing against the tops of the grass blades below.

His head tilts as he watches Pelagos.

"You're a long way from home," comes the garbled voice.

Pelagos stands a little straighter, appraising him. "So are you."

He appraises him back, eyes the anima dancing around his fingertips, a threat of defense if he moves wrong. He shakes his head and then reaches up and removes his helm.

He does not bear the marks of those who have moved against Helya or the Jailer. His eyes are an empty black, resting in sallow gray skin. He is beautiful in an unsettling way.

He watches Pelagos, his eyes sharp like a predator's, the lines around his mouth hard. "I have no home. Not anymore."

Pelagos does not know what to say to that. Instead, he stands there, silent.

"If I was going to hurt you, I'd have done it earlier, or caught you while you were sleeping."

"So you say," Pelagos replies, though he finds that he already believes this stranger. He can't explain why.

"So I say," he replies. He does not smile. "You know you cannot stop him."

"Perhaps not," Pelagos replies.

"Yet I'd wager you're the one who's been hassling our forces."

"I do what I must to survive."

"When there is no point in it?" the helsworn asks. "Because there is no point in it. It would be more merciful to just kill yourself now. Save yourself from what is to come."

"If you think so, why not put me out of my misery yourself?" Pelagos asks.

He appraises him. "Because I've come to offer you another way, aspirant."

It is then that Pelagos realizes that perhaps that is why he was spared before. Because they are kin, even if the creature before him has fallen far.

"And what way would that be?" Pelagos asks. He has been slowly moving back toward the cave entrance, not wanting to be caught in the open, should more mawsworn arrive. Should more helsworn arrive.

"I can give you wings," the helsworn offers, motioning toward him. "If you serve the Jailer, you need not meet so gruesome an end."

For a moment, silence settles over them. The helsworn seems sincere enough in his offer, odd that that is. And it plucks at something inside of Pelagos. He knows that he would never accept such an offer, but for just a second, that longing that is ever present within him surges up, the idea that he could get his wings, when he has already all but given up on that, quietly accepting as his time winds on here that he will likely die before he ever gets to ascend.

The memories of the joy of Kleia's flights that echo through him bubbles up, a promise that he could feel that, if only briefly.

"Do you think he really cares about you or me?" Pelagos asks. When the helsworn cocks his head, Pelagos motions vaguely in the direction of the desert. "The Jailer."

"He doesn't care at all," the helsworn says. "When he remakes reality, he is just as likely to unmake us as he is everything else."

"Then why offer me wings? If I'm to perish anyway—"

"You might not."

"But if it doesn't matter," Pelagos presses, taking a slow step toward the helsworn, "then why don't you fight him? If we're going to die anyway, then let's die a hindrance to him. Let us die on the side of good."

"Two souls cannot be a hindrance to the Jailer," the helsworn replies. "Unless you have more friends hidden away."

Is that what this is about? An attempt to get information? To see if forces have been quietly slipping into the realm, perhaps?

"We could do a lot if we worked together, if we're smart about it," Pelagos offers. "We could delay him long enough for the Primus to find a way—"

The helsworn lets out a scoff and shakes his head. "You've already lost."

"And so have you," Pelagos says. "You've forgotten who you were, who you are at the core of your being. At the core of your soul. Why not gain it back? Maybe there are others who would follow you—"

The helsworn stands so abruptly, moving with a swiftness that Pelagos always forgets that ascended have. He reaches out and brushes his fingertips against Pelagos' shoulder. The steel of his gauntlet is impossibly cold against his skin.

"He will bleed that hope from you."

"Like he did you?"

"Think about my offer," the helsworn says. "You need not suffer."

And then, just like that, he is gone.

Through the Veil.

Pelagos stares at the empty space where the helsworn was and then looks around, wondering how many more of them there are here, wondering if there is a way…

If the helsworn can shift through the Veil, would he be able to pass through it, if he were ascended? Would he be able to find his way out of the realm? Even if he only went back to the Maw, he could go to Korthia and then Oribos and warn them of what is happening here. Maybe he could lead them through to this realm.

To do so, he would have to make a most unholy pact, but if he did it in the name of good…if he could keep his wits…

He stays at that cave for almost half the day. The fact that the helsworn was waiting for him is a sign that he was being watched and was wise not to go back to Firim's hideout before, but he cannot stay away forever. He has just wandered back into it, trying to debate how best he should proceed when he turns and finds himself nose to snout with Nibbles.


The second Nibbles reappears, with a startled Pelagos in tow, Liila darts forward and wraps him in a tight hug.

He has been missing for damn near a day, and she has been kicking herself that she took too long and he must have gone looking for her. She has worried that he might get hurt trying to make sure she was safe.

He hugs her back, squeezing her tightly in a way that reminds her of what Haa'aji used to do when she was scared. She buries her face against his shoulder, clinging to him.

"You can't scare me like that," she whispers.

His hand rests on her hair, leaning his cheek against her head. "I could say the same to you."

"I wasn't gone as long as you were," Liila defends. When she peers up at him, she can see that he's smiling fondly at her. She realizes rather abruptly that he's taller than her. They have both grown a few inches in height, especially since the Oracle's boon, but it seems like it is affecting him more than her, and she marvels at it quietly a moment before she hears a few melodic chimes that pull her out of her thoughts.

She takes his hand and then tugs him over to meet the Circle Olea. She introduces each of them. "Hanoa here recruited me to help her circle, and we've found something that might help put a kink in the Jailer's plans."

Pelagos' brow arches sharply. "What is it?"

She had rather hoped he would let her get a little further before asking that question, though it is the one that makes the most sense to ask. "Well, we're not quite sure. Or rather, I'm not. They're pretty adamant." He frowns. "But the dreadlords are guarding it fiercely."

"It's not what he's here for?"

The jiro all chime and speak in that divine melody, with some words and phrases making a bit of sense and still more that feel like she is so close to understanding. Liila looks at Pelagos and shrugs a little. "From what I can tell—"

"The Jailer brought it with him," Pelagos finishes, looking down at the jiro as they chime in confirmation.

Liila blinks and nods. "Yeah. You're really getting good with translating."

"The Oracle speaks often," Pelagos murmurs. "In her sleep, that is."

The jiro chime some more.

"Getting to whatever it is might be hard to do unnoticed," Pelagos replies, looking from the jiro to Liila. "The Jailer still has helsworn. I don't know how many. And they can hide on the other side of the Veil, so we can't see them unless they want us to."

The jiro chime again.

Liila blinks, looking down at them. They seem to understand that neither she nor Pelagos can quite catch what they're saying, and so Hanoa goes slower, switching her words around to ones that Liila is familiar with.

She catches something about the Veil and flying. Pocopoc lets out a few melodic notes in response, seemingly excited. Olea Manu is especially excited, and it does not take long before the jiro seem to have come to a consensus with Pocopoc.

Liila repeats the words she knows, and Firim throws out a few more he's picked up over his time in Zereth Mortis. Pelagos rounds it out and then laughs. "You can make it so we can see through the Veil?"

"This whole realm is an experiment to make certain the pieces of the Shadowlands fit and work together," Firim says, motioning around them. "It does not seem so outlandish. Not to mention you are both kyrian. You are meant to see through it eventually, anyway, are you not?"

The jiro chime, waiting patiently as the realm's visitors piece together what they are saying. Pelagos looks like he wants to ask something more of the jiro, but decides against it at the last minute.

Instead, he motions to Liila and then himself. "What do we need to see through the Veil?"

The jiro begin to compile a list, scrawling it out in runes that flicker in the air. Liila can read those much more easily than she can understand the spoken language, and she make a few quick notes on where different things can be found.

It reminds her of the soulmirror they have all but abandoned making. They were able to gather pieces, but have not been able to figure out how to fit it together, how to imbue it with the power it needs to capture a memory.

And without that, she cannot piece her resurrection spells back together. It has been frustrating.

She hopes this project will not be so impossible.

As the jiro entreat Nibbles into helping them gather the reagents so that they do not get cornered by mawsworn, Liila reaches out and catches Pelagos' hand. "While they do that, I was thinking…" she trails off when he looks at her and steels herself for what she wants to ask. "I know you soulbound to me before because you were ordered to, but—"

His smile is radiant. "I'd be honored to be bound to you again, Liila."


It is an anxiousness that echoes from Arios that makes Adrestes leave his temple's grounds for what feels like the first time since becoming paragon. While he has been to the Hold to meet with the Archon and other paragons, he has not actually flown from the grounds, instead teleporting himself as he finds himself able to do from the temple of his domain to the Archon's Rise.

He half thinks he will feel some strange emptiness the second he is beyond his temple's borders, that there will be some great sense that he has left his place.

He does not know how to feel when there is not one.

He comes to hover over a platform that Thenios is seated upon, in the upper reaches of Wisdom.

"I welcome you, Adrestes, though I must wonder: to what do I owe this visit?" Thenios asks without looking up, musing over a few scrolls that he has unfurled before him.

"Arios is worried about you."

Thenios' smile is genuine, if not a little sad, and Adrestes abruptly realizes that he has not seen the paragon of wisdom smile in months.

Not since Devos' betrayal.

No.

He has been somber since before that even.

"Forgive me, Adrestes," Thenios says then, looking up at him. His eyes are tired, "but you are not the one I am going to have this conversation with. I will speak with Arios, and then I will speak with the Archon." As Adrestes nods, a little taken aback, Thenios' smile stretches, for just an instant. "I mean no ill will toward you, it is out of respect to them."

Adrestes accepts his peer's words with another nod and dismisses himself, trying not to think over the vague words.

The subject slips from his mind with relative ease as he returns to his temple and finds that his absence, however short, has somehow managed to cause a minor chaos because of course multiple things have gone wrong in the hour he has been gone and everyone has been flitting about trying to find him, compounding a sense of panic among the former forsworn, who still do not fully trust that they have been accepted back into the realm.

It is not until late into the evening that the subject comes back to mind.

As Adrestes is dictating a few alterations to one of the newer tenets he and his disciples have been working on, he is struck with such a sharp sense of panic that is not his own that his voice cuts off mid-sentence.

Arios is beside himself with grief.


Devos sets her jaw as she hears footsteps coming toward her.

When she had her wings stripped from her and was sent to Revendreth, she had known what was to come.

Torture.

It is well known throughout the Shadowlands that Revendreth is a hard place, and she had steeled herself for what was to come, half thinking that nothing the venthyr might do would be worse than what she has already done to herself, than what she has already experienced in the Maw.

And then she had arrived.

And all of her expectations were turned on their head.

The venthyr have not laid a single hand on her.

In fact, she has considered for long stretches that they have forgotten her completely. If not for the dredgers who bring her sustenance on occasion, she would be sure of it.

They do not talk to her.

She has learned the hard way that they ignore her. She can make all the demands or pleas she wants, but they do not so much as glance her way.

There are no guards—there were not even any more than the usual fare when she arrived. In Bastion she was a paragon first and then a threat to the realm, a creature who inspired—be it awe or fear. In the Maw, she was a force to be reckoned with, a nuisance to both Helya and the Jailer.

Here, she is nothing.

It is a hard lesson to learn.

In Bastion, she could at least persuade Adrestes or Thenios to tell her what was becoming of her people, her forsworn.

Here, she is completely in the dark. She knows Lysonia, Andromede, and many others are here, but she does not know if they are near, if they are being given the same treatment she is receiving.

There is nothing.

Nothing except for those approaching footsteps.

Sound easily distorts down here, and many times, when she hears things, she never sees what goes with them.

Her cell is not even at the end of the hall. Most times the footsteps stop short or fade off into some other part of the labyrinthine maze of cells in the Sanguine Depths. Sometimes she sees dredgers or stoneborn sweep past her bars on their way to someone else. Sometimes they come back by with a chained soul in tow.

She watches the hall beyond, idly wondering which dredger it will be. She has come to recognize a few of them now.

The footsteps are too soft to be a stoneborn's.

Though…

They're too soft to be a dredger's, too, and she has never seen a venthyr come down to these parts.

She settles with her back against the far wall, watching the shadows in the hall flicker in response to the anima torches. There is so little to do here.

She is starting to let her mind wander when she feels it.

An inexplicable tug that practically forces her to her feet, begging to be followed.

She starts toward the bars and then freezes when she realizes what she is feeling.

Who she is feeling.

She stands frozen at the back of her cell, unable to understand why she would be feeling this pull, here and now.

It takes an eternity for those footsteps to draw close, and with each step that tug grows stronger.

Finally, after the worst wait since she has been here, a figure steps up to the bars.

Thenios stands before her in his aspirant's form, dressed in the garb of the realm and looking utterly ridiculous. The dark, rich blue of his skin is a stark contrast to the dull grays he wears now. He fiddles with one of the tight cuffs around his wrist. He has never liked wearing his bracers for long periods—he always complained that they got in the way of his writing. His hair tufts wildly as though he has a permanent case of helmet hair—he was wearing it the last few times she saw him—and she almost teases him about how he has a bird's nest on his head.

But then he looks at her, and the words die on her tongue.

He looks so…

Tired.

There are circles under his eyes like she has never seen, and his face is thinner than it should be, the lines around his eyes are deeper. Like he has aged since last she saw him, even though she knows that is not possible. The dead do not grow old.

"You were right," he says, sighing as he adds, "I'm not supposed to tell you that, but you were right."

That stirs something in Devos just enough to free her from her immobility. She darts to the bars, searches his tired eyes for some hint about why he's here. She can make no sense of it. "About what?"

"I failed you," he says. As he swallows, he reaches up and tugs at his high neck. He is clearly uncomfortable. "I failed you when you needed me most, and I failed every aspirant and ascended who had to turn to you for support."

Devos narrows her eyes. "If you want pity—"

"You know I have never wanted that," he snaps, frowning a moment before he sighs again. "I came here to repent, but apparently the venthyr can't free a soul from personal guilt." He winces. "My efforts to set things right myself—with where souls go now—have rendered their methods unnecessary."

"So you came to say goodbye?" Devos asks, voice flat. She shakes her head, turns her back to him, thinking to return to the back of her cage.

"I came to tell you I'm going to make things right, as far as I can."

She pauses midstep and then whirls to face him. "What does that even mean?"

"I've taken a leave of absence," Thenios explains. He allows himself a mirthless half laugh. "The Archon wouldn't let me step down permanently."

Devos steps back up to the bars. "What?"

"Arios will serve as paragon until I return to Bastion," Thenios says. "He's not happy with me, either, but he's said that so long as I do come back, he is willing to 'fill in' for me." Silence settles over them for a long, quiet moment before he finally says, "The realm is changing, for the better, I hope, but I cannot see it. I see the statistics we have amassed over eons, the numbers, the data, the logical conclusions that were made. All skewed. I cannot clear my head of what has been and what may have been lost, of what may be lost, and so I cannot fulfill my duties. I need to step back, to relearn how to be objective, to relearn how to be compassionate. Because I haven't been."

Devos leans against the bars then, moving as close to him as her prison will allow. "So you are leaving Bastion to find yourself?"

"I left to atone," he says softly, "Prince Renathal may think I have no need to—the Archon may think I have no need to—but I know better. And I will do better. I have lost track of the trees looking at the forest, and sometimes it's better to look at the details instead of just a pretty picture."

"You're mixing your metaphors," Devos retorts.

"You used to like when I did that."

She lets out a soft humph and crosses her arms.

"I will be staying in Revendreth as an ambassador," Thenios says. "I do not think they will let me come by often, but I will every chance I am afforded."

"And what will you do once I've 'learned my lesson' and they set me free?"

He offers her the faintest of smiles then. "I was hoping we might go back to Bastion, see how the new Path is shaping up and how well we can walk it."

It takes a moment before what he's saying sinks in. Devos straightens up, brow pinching together. "You gave up your wings."

"Arios doesn't know about that," Thenios says. "I think he and half my temple would have revolted."

"And Bastion can't afford another one of those so soon," Devos says dryly.

Thenios gives her a pointed frown.

"He'll figure it out fast; he's always been a quick one." Devos cannot help but feel for just an instant like things are almost the way they were. Like they are sitting on one of the plateaus between their temples, idly talking about their charges, instead of standing in a dark dungeon.

She cannot help but smile at him then, reaching out and letting her fingertips brush against his cheek. "You're an old fool. You know that, yes?"

"I'm your old fool," he says, reaching up to catch her hand and hold it against his cheek. He turns his face and presses a kiss to her palm. "And you're mine."

"Do you think the new Path will take as long as the last one?" Devos asks. "I remember you took forever. I had to wait an eternity to get my wings."

"You could have gotten them before me," Thenios says, smiling faintly.

"And listen to you grouse about how I was leaving you behind?" Devos asks, quirking a brow, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "I'm not patient enough for that."

He shakes his head and then looks at her, and there is a fondness dancing in his eyes that she has missed so terribly. "As for the Path… I imagine we'll find out. Together."


Elder Ara allows Liila and Pelagos back into Haven long enough to soulbind, and she even asks after the Oracle, though Liila can feel the glares from the other elders the whole time they are there.

Nibbles whisks them back to Firim's hideout once they are done soulbinding and gathering a few items needed for their Veil-sight, and they wait.

Liila is surprised by how relieved she is to be bound to Pelagos again, to feel that reassuring presence in the back of her mind. The deep sorrow is still there within him, that longing to fly, but it is both stronger and weaker than before. She cannot explain the change, but she can feel the way he has grown.

She feels that curl of warmth in her chest that echoes from him, and she sits beside him as they share a small meal with Nibbles, Firim, and Pocopoc.

Once Firim has gone back to his research and Nibbles has sprawled out on his make-shift bed on the far side of the chamber, Pelagos takes her hand and laces their fingers together. "You know the Archon's not going to punish you for this."

Liila feels something tighten in her chest. She focuses on her feet, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. "I—"

"She gave you permission to leave the realm."

"But not to come here," Liila whispers.

"You didn't come here on purpose," Pelagos says, nudging her shoulder with his. "You're not getting kicked out of the realm any time soon."

Liila shifts a little so that she can lean against Pelagos. "I haven't been that worried about it."

"You hide it well," he says softly, resting his head against hers.

"You hide the fact that you think we'll die here well," she replies.

"As do you," he murmurs.

Liila does not mean to fall asleep, but she does, head on his shoulder, fingers laced, him resting against her.

When she wakes up, the jiro have returned, though they have let them sleep. They are huddled around the Oracle, talking quietly amongst themselves as they debate what can be done to help her.

She sits there a while longer, before she hears a soft sigh from Pelagos. "We should get to it, then, shouldn't we?"

Echoing his sigh, she sits up. "I think so."

He squeezes her hand before letting her go. Even when he releases her, she does not feel alone, and she can feel how much that means to him. She nudges him as they head over to the jiro. "You should have said something sooner."

He laughs and nods. "I know."

The jiro have more than just what was discussed. Their reagents—along with what Pelagos and Liila retrieved—are already assembled and waiting, but there is more, a second set of oddities that has Liila tilting her head.

Hanoa gently taps her fingers when she reaches out to pick something up, shooing her away from their work.

The alterations go quickly. The jiro give Pelagos his sight first, and he is relieved to look around their chamber and find that he cannot see anyone spying on them. When they give Liila hers, she almost wonders if it worked, for she can't see anything different.

Pelagos motions to a few subtle places where the Veil shimmers, ever so faintly.

Liila is still not sure it has worked.

Before they can head out, the jiro usher them to sit back down for a second procedure.

They work on Liila first this time, and as their spell settles, she blinks, looking from one to the other as they talk quietly.

She can understand them.

"You…you made it all make sense."

"It was not hard, you have already laid the foundation yourselves," Olea Hanoa says, pleased. "And you will have an edge on our foes now for the realm will talk to you in ways that it will never speak with them." She pauses before adding, "We could not find many first flowers, though, so we use them for your speech. Your Veil-sight may fade over time. If we find more flowers, we can extend it."

She waits until they have gifted Pelagos with the language of the realm before starting in on the questions.

They gift their language to Firim, as well, and he is giddy to join the conversation as they beckon Nibbles over, last.

When all four of them are able to understand without hindrance, Liila perks up. "So perhaps we can go over this plan a little more fluidly now."

Nibbles clicks and chitters away, though even that does not sound foreign. "We go to the sands, yes?"

"Not the main sands," Olea Hanoa warns. Olea Novi carries a map of the realm over to them. When it is unfurled, Olea Manu motions to a small place not far from the ravine where Liila met the jiro.

"You said they have something hidden there?"

"A soul," the jiro say in unison.

Pelagos and Liila exchange a glance.

Firim frowns. "The Jailer brought a soul here? Why? He does not need the anima, surely."

"He could not risk it falling into the wrong hands," Olea Hanoa says. "We listen to the mawsworn, that is how we know. That is why they seek to destroy us."

Liila looks back at the map, a half-curled finger against her lips as she considers it. "So…if we can get this soul from his forces, it will…hurt him?"

"Or at least be a sufficient distraction," Pelagos adds. "If he's busy trying to get this soul back, perhaps he won't be so focused on whatever he's looking for."

"Is it Anduin?" Liila asks.

The jiro hum and chime.

Olea Novi shakes their head. "We do not know its name. But it is a strong soul, an old soul. Perhaps it is needed even, to open the way to the Sepulcher."

Liila and Pelagos exchange another glance.

And it is then, that the Jailer's plans are finally laid bare.

He seeks the tools of creation of the First Ones, and has been trying to find a way from the main part of the realm to where those greatest tools lie. The jiro and oracles already blocked the path, but it is a matter of time before the Jailer finds a way through. He has been corrupting the Oracles to help him undo their seal, but a certain number of the Oracles are required to open the way once it has been closed, hence why keeping this one hidden is so important.

"We get soul, and save home?" Nibbles asks, still signing as he talks.

"It is a start," Olea Manu says.

Nibbles whisks Liila, Pelagos, Hanoa and Pocopoc to the sands, to the entrance of the cave that the jiro told them about, and almost instantly, Liila can see the that the Veil-sight has worked as well as the gift of the First Ones' language.

There are at least a dozen helsworn in the sky, and when she looks east, toward the main desert, she can see more, dark dots moving against that brilliant sky.

No one seems to take note of them at first, and Nibbles makes sure it stays that way by romping out into the sands, roaring and gathering attention. He blinks back and forth, keeping the mawsworn and dreadlords on their toes.

Pocopoc takes up a role as sentry at the mouth of the cave with Hanoa while Liila and Pelagos slip into the cave, though Liila feels a little uneasy leaving Nibbles to fight alone.

Not far into the cave, they have to dispatch a handful of dreadlords before reaching an intricate seal that glimmers with golden runes. The runes speak of an ancient protector, though she suspects that the pieces of a giant automa laying nearby may be the protector it references.

As they inspect the runes and search the corridor for hints as to how to disable the barrier, something on the other side of it moves. It is hard to see through the pulsating gold, even as the creature on the other side draws closer.

From a distance, whatever is on the other side seems quite large, but the barrier is distorting the world on the other side of it, and when the creature finally draws close enough for them to make him out clearly, he is not that much taller than Liila and Pelagos.

It is not Anduin.

Liila's heart sinks.

"How curious," comes a silky, rich voice that rings in her ears as unsettlingly familiar. "Two wingless kyrian running around the cradle of the Shadowlands." The figure comes up to the other side of the barrier and peers down at them a moment before they seem to lose their strength. Their regal posture withers as they sink down onto one knee, shuddering faintly. "Perhaps you can help me."

As Pelagos kneels as well, reaching out to brush his fingertips against the barrier and drawing them back quickly when it gives him a warning zap, Liila hangs back, appraising the captive on the other side.

"The Jailer imprisoned…a venthyr?"

The man lets out a faint laugh, and she can see his gaze turn toward her, even through the warping pulses of the barrier. "Would you believe that I imprisoned myself?"

Pelagos tries to mend the venthyr, but his magic cannot reach through the barrier, which pulses another warning. He gives the stranger an apologetic look as he motions to them. "How?"

"Well, I escaped the Jailer's clutches," the venthyr explains, "and got cornered. I thought I could fend him off if I activated this barrier, and I suppose it worked."

"You just didn't consider how you'd get out," Liila surmises. When the venthyr sighs dramatically and nods, she cocks her head. She is certain she has heard his voice before, somewhere, though she's equally certain she's never seen this creature before. His skin is a paler gray, his eyes red, his long white hair disheveled. He reminds her a little of Prince Renathal. "What does the Jailer want with you?"

"What does he want with any of us?" the venthyr asks with a shrug. When Liila carefully grips Pelagos' shoulder and pulls him away from the barrier, he grimaces a little. "He seeks to use me as a catalyst, I believe. A sacrifice to get what he wants."

"And he's willing to let you just sit here, out of reach?"

"It's not as though I'm going anywhere," the venthyr points out. He sounds genuinely miserable. "I have bought myself—and reality—a bit of time, but once he finds what he seeks in the deserts, he'll be coming back for me, I'm sure." He points at them. "But if you get me out of here before that, we can thwart him! You'll be hailed as heroes! I imagine the Archon will be blessing you with wings as soon as you get back."

Liila narrows her eyes. This creature is reading them, reading their desires, trying to coax them into doing what it wants.

Even as her mistrust swells, she feels a gentleness from Pelagos. Images of Ember Courts flicker through her mind, of different venthyr posturing to make themselves seem important. She can feel what he is trying to convey, the notion that this is not some great manipulation, but a rather poor one considering what the venthyr normally do.

This is not some master manipulator before them, but a panicked, lonely creature, saying what he thinks would motivate them to help him.

Liila is not so sure.

But then, the jiro did say this soul was important, and it's not like there are any other souls down here. Unless something else is behind the barrier with the venthyr.

Either way, they'll need to take it down.

"Who are you?" Liila asks.

"Now is hardly the time—" the venthyr cuts himself off and then gives them an exasperated look. "I am Duke Athri, Harvester of Pride."

Both Liila and Pelagos glance at each other. Liila eyes him. "Funny, we've met the Harvester of Pride. She doesn't look like you at all."

The venthyr sighs. "Well, I was, at least. I'm not entirely sure who holds the title these days."

"How did you end up in the Maw?" Liila asks, tilting her head.

Duke Athri gives her a pointed stare for a long, quiet moment before abruptly settling down. He rests his arms against his knees and stares up at her and Pelagos. "Do I need to tell you the full story to earn your trust?"

"Depends on how long the full story is," Liila replies. She does her best to ignore the sympathy for the creature she can feel rolling off of Pelagos.

"Let's see, the short of it then," the venthyr murmurs. He drums his claws against his leg a moment and then says, "I was…intrigued by a few of the Jailer's ideas. I suppose you could say I was not immune to the sins that I have always strived so hard to purge from the souls sent to Revendreth." He is quiet as he waits for them to respond. When neither does, he rolls his eyes. "I learned too late that the promises made were but a trick to lure me into reach so that I might one day be used for what he is very close to using me for."

"A sacrifice," Pelagos says.

"Indeed."

"And who's to say you won't betray us when we set you free?" Liila asks. "Or that the automa didn't seal you away and that you won't go running back to the Jailer the second we set you loose?"

The response to her query comes in the form of a shift in the very atmosphere around them. The air grows heavy, like chains, and Liila feels like this creature could easily unmake her, even trapped as he is. There is power within him that he has been hiding, but it unfurls around him, impossibly ancient and deep as his patience with her questions grows thin.

And that is when she recognizes him.

Liila grips Pelagos, dragging him back a step with her. "That is Sire Denathrius."

The venthyr's eyes widen.

Pelagos looks at her, bewildered. "Sire Denathrius is trapped in a sword—"

"That the dreadlords took," Liila hisses. She motions the way they came. "And what was everywhere outside?"

"My other half has been removed from Revendreth?" the venthyr interjects. He is on his feet in a breath, that frailty that he wore so well forgotten. "You must free me. Revendreth will wither if I am gone completely. The Shadowlands will suffer without it. There will be drought and—"

"There's already a drought," Liila says.

The venthyr stills. His red gaze is so focused on her she feels like it pins her in place. She remembers the first time she met the death god, the way he watched her, the way he told her he could see through her with a mere look that lingered a second too long.

Pelagos steps between them, an arm wrapping around Liila's shoulders, breaking the spell that has her frozen.

Liila looks away from Sire Denathrius, at Pelagos. "We're not safe from him."

"Wait," Sire Denathrius says, claws raking against the seal briefly. "Free me, and I will protect you from the Jailer."

"You just said you hid in there to protect yourself from the Jailer," Pelagos says, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I don't recall Kyrestia's children being so mistrusting…" he mutters under his breath when they give him a wary look, though he quickly schools his expression to something more amicable. "The Jailer is off searching for the tools of our destruction. Free me quickly, and we can escape. I've no desire to trespass in this realm, and once I am out of it, it foils the Jailer's plans. He will have to come for me or one of the others, and we will be ready for him—"

"We're stuck here."

Sire Denathrius' head cocks sharply at that. His brow pinches. He blinks. There seems to be a moment where what Liila has said doesn't really register, and then he cocks his head. "You were brought here by the Jailer, too?"

"No," Pelagos replies.

Those red eyes narrow when neither of them elaborate.

And then what has happened seems to fall into place.

His swears echo into the chamber and beyond, and he rakes his claws against the seal, which flares violently in return. Sire Denathrius recoils. Both Liila and Pelagos cower back, involuntarily.

When the Sire moves back to the barrier, close enough that they can make him out clearly, he is kneeling and still towers over them.

He has shed his venthyr guise, and looks much like the creature Liila met in Revendreth.

Except that he does not look well. His skin is gaunt and sags around his eyes, and that red glow, intimidating as it is, is dimmer than it should be.

Disciple Tia's words come to Liila then.

You have never seen a god tread in lands forbidden to them.

She does not doubt that Sire Denathrius does not wish to be here.

"Do you know how you were brought here?" Liila asks then. "If we can go back the way you got in, we can get you out—"

Sire Denathrius appraises her, curiosity and contempt mixing with his foul mood. He looks from one to the other. "There would be far too many mawsworn to manage that. They would alert my brother before we even got close, and then I would be right back in his clutches."

"If even one of us could get through it," Pelagos says, "We could show others how to follow. We could get—"

"You would have to go through the heart of the Mawsworn invasion here," Sire Denathrius says, speaking slowly as though to a child, "into the heart of the Maw itself."

"And then to Korthia and out to Oribos," Pelagos finishes. When Sire Denathrius simply stares at him, Pelagos glances at Liila and then back to the god. "Korthia was dragged into the Maw, but the waystone still work—"

Pelagos' voice is cut off as the angry thudding of something large approaching comes ringing through the cavern's passage.

They barely have time to tense, anima swirling to life at their fingertips while Sire Denathrius bares his fangs angrily, before Nibbles comes roaring into the room, with Pocopoc and Hanoa darting after him.

Nibbles hisses around a dismembered, badly chewed arm that Liila is fairly certain used to belong to a dreadlord, four eyes narrowed at Sire Denathrius.

Liila holds out her hands to stop Nibbles from running into the seal. "Wait, wait!"

Nibbles growls, but stills, peering carefully at Liila and then Pelagos to make sure they are unharmed.

"You heard the Sire yelling, didn't you?" Pelagos asks, reaching out to pat Nibbles' arm, though he pauses when the devourer chomps down harder on the dreadlord arm, then throws his head back and swallows the limb whole. As the devourer's gaze drops down to Pelagos' outstretched hand, he slowly draws it back to himself.

Pocopoc chimes excitedly, whirring past them to the seal and then pointing up at Sire Denathrius. Olea Hanoa is on his heels.

"The soul is still intact!"

Sire Dentharius frowns down at the little creature and then looks over their party again.

Before he can speak, Liila winces. "Oh my gods, are the dreadlords here to save you?"

His response is a bitter laugh. "Sadly, no. My duplicitous children have found a new master. Themselves. The few who were willing to help me perished, so far as I know, to the ones who are happy to ally with my brother for the time being. I'm sure he's made them all manner of pretty promises."

"Like he did you?" Pelagos asks.

Sire Denathrius arches a well-sculpted brow. "Careful, little one. You may belong to my sister, but that does not excuse such disrespect."

Liila appraises the Sire, head cocked, and then looks at Hanoa. "Should we…leave him in there? Apparently, the Jailer can't reach him."

"No," Hanoa chimes. "He will grow too weak within the seal. We can hide him where the Jailer cannot find him."

Sire Denathrius seems less than amused that Liila and Pelagos are more interested in taking Hanoa's orders than his own, but he makes no comment until he sees their gazes move to his. He begins to point at specific spots on the seal, then. "There are thirteen sigils. The few of my children still loyal scattered them to make it harder for my brother to reach me. If you can find the sigils and set them in place, the seal will—"

The sounds of more heavy footfalls resounds from beyond the main cavern.

"I don't suppose you have more friends en route?" Sire Denathrius asks, tone dry.

"We do not," Liila says, tensing again.

"I have an idea," Hanoa says abruptly. She turns to Nibbles and touches his hand. "We must retreat." In a breath, he grips Pocopoc and Hanoa and disappears.

Sire Denathrius curses under his breath. "If you leave me now, security will be tripled here. More than that. You'll never be able to fight through his forces."

Before Liila or Pelagos can reply, the first mawsworn comes around the bend. It falls quickly, as Liila and Pelagos are prepared.

However, they are not prepared for the sheer number who follow the first. They weave their spells, and dodge attacks. Sire Denathrius lends his aid in a way only a god can. Liila can see the way the mawsworn move slower, like their very limbs have grown heavy. It reminds her of how oppressive the air felt when Sire Denathrius was angry.

A glance back reveals the gleeful look in his eyes as he focuses on the mawsworn, getting what little vengeance he can.

The fight is grueling as their enemies seem endless, and yet it seems like they will be able to whittle them down eventually, when abruptly there is a shift. Suddenly the mawsworn seem immune to whatever Sire Denathrius has been doing. Their blows come quicker, harder.

Liila glances back and sees that Sire Denathrius has retreated in his prison, far enough that she can barely see him sulking.

Why…?

Did he decide they were a lost cause?

A mace catches Liila in the shoulder and sends her spiraling to the ground. She hits hard, hears Pelagos call out to her.

Even as she looks up to find him in the chaos and sees that he is surrounded, a massive hand grips the back of her tunic and then she is jerked through space.

She lands on the floor of Firim's hideaway with a painful thud. Healing magic is already wrapping around her as she stumbles to her feet, looking around.

Nibbles has already disappeared again, but Pocopoc rolls up to her, chiming softly as he welcomes her home and checks her for injuries. Olea Nori weaves a healing spell over her.

Liila scans the cave quickly and stops when she sees the venthyr sitting rather smugly on one of the orbs. He is examining a cloak that she is certain he did not have when he was in his prison. Olea Manu carefully adjusts it, and she can feel…

Nothing.

It is like the creature she is looking directly at does not exist.

She realizes rather abruptly that the cloak must be cloaking him in more ways than one.

The jiro truly are incredible with what they can make.

Liila stands up and looks around. "So that's why you stopped helping."

Sire Denathrius' gaze turns toward her sharply, and he appraises her with a wicked smirk in place. "My reach only goes so far, aspirant." He pauses then, tilting his head. "I don't believe I got your name before."

"Embrosia," Liila says, and she cannot help but notice the way the god's head tilts ever so slightly, as though he can feel that her words are dishonest. She's not sure why she does not trust him with her real name, but something about him makes her want to make sure he knows as little about her as possible.

Before she can think to assure him that Embrosia really is her name—it is one of them, after all—she is struck with a sudden terror and pain, and then…

"Pelagos?" The word slips from her lips before she can stop herself, just as Nibbles reappears.

One of his arms is barely attached, and he is coughing up blood as he slumps onto the floor. Liila conjures anima in a wave of healing. She has not tried much in the way of healing spells with anima, but they come fairly easy. They are not so different from offensive spells, oddly enough. Perhaps in life the spells were so different because they used different bases, Shadow and Light.

She pushes it from her mind as she hurries over to Nibbles, inspecting him. He is unconscious, but alive.

But Pelagos is not with him.

Liila reaches out to Pelagos through their bond, trying to feel if he is hurt or afraid or…anything.

She can feel him, can feel that he is indeed in pain, but he is…muted.

Unconscious, perhaps.

Her stomach twists.

Even as she panics, dark anima swirls around Nibbles, and some of the worse injuries that still linger on him fade.

Sire Denathrius kneels beside the gorger, inspecting him with idle curiosity. "I fear we may have lost your friend."

"No," Liila snaps and starts toward the path out of Firim's hideaway.

Firim and Pocopoc dart after her. "Where are you going?"

"To get Pelagos," Liila says. "I can intercept the mawsworn on their way back to the Jailer and—"

"And perish along with your friend? Or worse, lead them back here? To me and to her?" Sire Denathrius asks, motioning to himself and then the sleeping Oracle. "You recall how many of them there were, do you not? Can you actually take that many on by yourself? If so, I'm quite impressed."

Liila looks up at the Sire. "You could help me."

He stares back down at her, not bothering to hide how clearly he thinks that she is utterly stupid. "And then all the work to make it look like I am still trapped behind the barrier will be for nothing."

"Not if we play it off as though you came through with us initially. As if you're just a venthyr. They don't know how many of us made it through before the gateway was destroyed." Liila presses. When the Sire is unmoved, she reaches out to touch his arm. "Please. The Jailer will unmake him."

"The Jailer will unmake us all," Sire Denathrius says, unmoved.

"But he's getting weaker, isn't he?" Liila asks. "Maybe we can use that, somehow."

"The only way we are going to stop the Jailer," Sire Denathrius says, "is if we can find a way out of the realm. If I am out of his reach, he will have to leave it to get a new soul to sacrifice. A new eternal soul."

Liila wonders, abruptly, if that was why he kept the Primus as he did, if the Primus had been his backup plan in case something happened to Sire Denathrius' soul. Or vice versa.

"But if we get to Pelagos before he's brought to the Jailer—I mean who's to say they'll even actually waste the Jailer's time with one measly aspirant."

Sire Dennathrius shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "You mortal souls are always so absorbed with your own little problems. If he escapes, they will look for him, and they will find us." Again he motions to himself and the Oracle.

Even as Liila tries to argue that that's not necessarily true, something abruptly clicks into place.

She's doing now what Bolvar was doing to her before, begging for the salvation of one soul when so many more are on the line.

It is selfish to ask to save Pelagos, to ask to put the entirety of reality on the cusp of nothingness for the chance to save someone she loves.

She swallows, hard, as the truth hits her.

She can't save him. Pelagos is going to die.

And so will everyone else, if she can't put things into perspective.

The priority cannot be the ones she loves. It has to be Sire Denathrius.

She thinks of Adrestes and Haa'aji and Chi'rhi and Hezzak and the other kids and Kleia and Thales…of Mitchell and Blood and every other soul she knows.

She can't ask Sire Denathrius to compromise himself to save Pelagos.

But she doesn't have to let his death be in vain.

"You need to get to the portals leading out of the realm," Liila says slowly. "What if Pelagos and I could be a distraction?"

"Murdering a couple aspirants will not keep the Jailer or his forces amused for long enough for me to get where I need to go," Sire Denathrius says, expression blanking.

"You'd only need a couple seconds with Nibbles' help," Liila says. "He got you out of the barrier quickly, yes? He can get you to the portals while we put on a show."

"Again, a couple aspirants' fates will not be enough of a distraction—"

"Due respect, Sire," Liila says, "but I'm not just an aspirant."


Pelagos comes to as he is being dragged across sand, his hands bound in front of him in heavy chains. The tops of his feet ache from the grating of the sands against his skin, and he struggles to get his feet under him so that he can walk.

His captors shake him when he almost has his footing and keep dragging him.

It is a struggle, but he lifts his head, looking around. He cannot see much beyond the two creatures tugging him along, but when he manages to look ahead, he can see a figure towering well above everything else.

The Jailer.

Terror at the mere sight of the god curls in him, and he cannot help but try to recoil. However, even as he feels that fear building inside of him, overwhelming him, he feels something else.

A reassurance that he is not alone.

From Liila.

He feels her sorrow, her resolution, and that helps mitigate the fear coursing through him, at least a little.

At last, his captors come to a stop, throwing him forward to his knees. He hits the sand hard, but does his best to rise to his feet. One of his captors raises their fist to smack him back down, but the Jailer lifts a hand, and the mawsworn instantly withdraws a few steps, leaving Pelagos standing.

A smaller creature stands at the Jailer's feet, expression twisted with anguish as he watches Pelagos.

The mortal king, the Jailer's puppet.

The Jailer appraises Pelagos, his face hidden from view by that awful helm. Even without being able to see his features, however, Pelagos knows that the Jailer is watching him, seeing all that he has ever been, all that he could have been.

So this is the little soul who has been nettling my forces.

The voice rolls out over the dunes, and it rattles in Pelagos' ears. There is no serenity to his voice, like with the Archon. His very tone drips a venom that saps one's hope.

Another curl of reassurance from Liila.

That worries Pelagos more than anything the Jailer could do. He tries to send her what he does not doubt will be his final thoughts, to tell her this is not her fault, that it has been an honor to know her, to fight beside her. His fate does not have to be hers, though, and he prays she can see that.

He wishes he could say goodbye to Kleia, too.

It is then that he feels something more from Liila. An acceptance that this is the end, for both of them, that she is not going to let him fall alone.

It hurts to think, hurts to realize that she has made up her mind and he cannot sway her. It hurts so much so that he almost misses the whispered sentiment that while their fates are sealed, the end must not come quickly.

It doesn't make sense…

Where do I know you from?

The Jailer muses, his great steps breeching the space between them so quickly. He kneels to inspect Pelagos better.

"I've fought your forces in Korthia, helped to push them back," Pelagos proclaims, standing as tall as he can muster with this wretched monster leaning over him.

The Jailer laughs. It is a wicked sound, like off key vespers cracking against one another, grating against Pelagos' ears.

No. The Jailer leans down lower to appraise him and then sits back. No, I know. I remember you from when I wrenched that pitiful mortal's soul from yours. Your little living soulbind.

"He has suffered enough," comes a pleading voice. The mortal king.

Pelagos sees the enthralled mortal move around the Jailer, trying to get close enough to put himself between Pelagos and his master. He gets close enough for Pelagos to see that he is so young before maw marks light up across his flesh and force him to stop. He stands there, rigid, a terror reflecting in his eyes as he watches Pelagos. There is tension in his jaw, and Pelagos knows he is struggling to say something, but his body will not obey him.

This must not end quickly.

The thought echoes in his head.

He swallows and then looks up at the Jailer, steeling himself for what is to come. He does not want either of them to suffer, but he has learned to trust Liila. And if his demise must be drawn out, he trusts she is not asking that of him for no reason.

"You cannot possibly be so intimidated by the words of one mortal," Pelagos says, "that you cannot let him speak his piece when you control all else that he does."

The Jailer cocks his head.

I see some of her arrogance rubbed off on you.

"Some of her courage, maybe," Pelagos says, standing a little straighter. The chains around his wrists hang heavier.

They are not so different, in the end.

The Jailer appraises him, and Pelagos feels pain creeping into his limbs, like fire is slowly taking to every part of his being. He winces against it.

The Jailer lets out a half laugh.

I'd be impressed with your attempts to free my brother, if not for the foolishness of it. Your plans are shortsighted at best. You cannot stop me.

"Maybe not," Pelagos says, forcing himself to meet the Jailer's gaze. He can feel the pain growing stronger within him. "You are the master of torture and pain and destruction, and I am just an aspirant who cannot even master my first rite." He winces again, grits his teeth. "But I know something you don't want me to."

And just what is that?

"You're not as strong as you want people to think."

I suppose you are going to prove this? Put me in my place?

"No, but she will."

The Jailer laughs again.

Kyrestia cannot save you—

A small rock plinks off the side of the Jailer's helm, and the world grows deathly quiet.

"He was talking about me."

The Jailer's head snaps to the side and all other gazes follow his.

The mortal king's voice wavers, his expression shifting to utter awe. "Dragonlily?"

Pelagos' heart drops at the voice, but when he sees her, he cannot help the way his jaw drops as well.

Liila Dragonlily gives them a smirk from where she leans against one of the half-buried structures within the dunes, idly tossing and catching another rock. One of her long elven ears twitches as she arches her long brows at the Jailer. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Impossible," the mortal says, "he killed you."

Maw runes flash to life around Liila and crackle with energy. It flares in excess before dimming down. Shadows roll off of Liila's body, and she cracks her neck as she meets the Jailer's gaze with an even one. Her grin stretches.

"What's the matter, Jailer?" Liila says, pushing away from the structure to saunter toward them. None of the mawsworn move, but their gazes follow her. "Can't kill one little mortal who stands in your way?" She looks around then, at the mawsworn. "As for the rest of you. You might want to consider whose side you want to be on when the reckoning finally—"

Something grips Pelagos' waist and then…

Then Nibbles is dropping him behind a small outcropping of rocks near the edge of the desert. Liila—a very kyrian Liila—grips him in a tight hug. He tries to hug her back, but his wrists are still bound. He shakes his head, looking back toward where he can feel the source of the corruption in the realm, toward the Jailer.

"How—"

"A parting gift from the Sire," Liila says. "Nibbles got him to the portals and he'll…he'll get help to put a stop to what the Jailer's doing."

He can feel that acceptance of death still strong within her.

"But not before the Jailer finds and unmakes us."

"We served our Purpose," Liila offers, trying to smile. "And it's not like we have to make this easy for him. Let's make him work for it, yeah?"

Even as Pelagos starts to nod, he is interrupted.

FIND THEM!

The words echo out like a thunder clap. The air itself trembles.

Liila winces. "I take it the illusion's been expended, and he knows you're gone."

"And that you're here," Pelagos says.

Liila shrugs, biting her lip for a second as she brushes her hair back. She fiddles with the chains on his wrists before scowling and then taking his hand in hers as she leads him through the rocky protrusions in the sands.

Nibbles is gone.

With a quiet curse, Liila tugs Pelagos forward. "Come on, we just—"

Before she can finish her sentence, a sword slams into the rock right beside her. With a curse, she darts back, conjuring anima to knock back their attacker. Pelagos tries to cast himself, but the chains block his magic and tighten around him in more than just a physical way. He feels like he is suffocating.

He kicks at one of their attackers and tries to even the odds—where has Nibbles gone?

Even as he looks around, wondering about the devourer, something slams into the ground from overhead, knocking his attacker to the ground. A javelin thrusts through the mawsworn's breastplate, and it grows still.

Another spear takes out an attacker coming up behind Liila as a second figure slams down from overhead.

The helswron nearest Pelagos turns to him, resting his javelin in the crook of his arm as he takes Pelagos' hands and unbinds his chains.

Pelagos stares at him, eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

"I have thought about what you said," the helsworn says, releasing his hands and then offering him a wicked looking dagger. "We cannot win against the Jailer." He waits until Pelagos takes the dagger before gripping his javelin in hand again and turning to nail an oncoming attacker in the face, "But we can make sure that he doesn't, either."

Another helsworn slams into the ground, crushing one of the other mawsworn beneath her boots. She motions toward a path that snakes along the cliff. "Go."

"They'll see us if we go that way," Liila starts to protest.

"Not with all the infighting," says the first helsworn.

"Infighting?" Pelagos asks, even as Liila grabs his hand and starts toward the path.

"Who wants to follow a god that can't even kill one measly soul served to him on platter?" the second helsworn asks. She swings her spear up and ready.

"Liila's posturing work—"

The first helsworn tousles Pelagos' hair and then shoves him toward the path. "We're talking about you."

There is a spark dancing in Liila's eyes as she nods to him and looks around. He can feel that acceptance of meeting their ends shifting, ever so slightly. "Let's go."


Arios' feathers are fluffed with displeasure as he stands next to Adrestes, arms crossed, head bent forward slightly. He is the paragon of wisdom now, and while he holds himself with grace in front of his ascended and aspirants, he does not bother to hide his displeasure when he is among his peers. He does not complain, but he does not hide his frown, either.

He feels that Thenios has made a mistake, that his paragon has walked out when he is needed most. Adrestes knows that Arios will be an amazing paragon, but for now, he is rigid and quiet, listening mostly, much as Adrestes does. Vesiphone has been sweet to Arios, gently teasing him when she can. She's managed to get him to smile once, though it was short-lived.

They are currently gathered, listening as Xandria explains how they've procured some of the spellbooks from the casters within the Maw, and how she thinks they may have found the spells necessary to open the way to Zereth Mortis, though of course they are written in code. She is hopeful that Arios will be able to crack it and is offering him a book when the Archon abruptly laughs.

All attention snaps to her, though her gaze is honed on the entrance to the chamber, as a small smirk turning up the corner of her mouth before she schools her expression to something Adrestes is more used to. "Xandria, ready the troops."

"My Archon?"

"We have a guide."

Even as Xandria's brow pinches, she and the others look toward the entrance to the chamber as well.

When Adrestes turns, he cannot help but laugh himself when he sees the devourer standing there.

"Hello, Nibbles."