"I need your help," Pelagos says, and he has the determination in his eyes that he gets whenever he gathers the courage to try another cleanse. Even as the words 'Of course' rest on the tip of Kleia's tongue, ready to be spoken, he adds, "With a couple things."

That gives Kleia pause, and she blinks once before nodding. "Of course. What troubles you?"

Pelagos doesn't seem relieved by her words, like he usually is. Kleia pauses, waits as he debates something and then pulls out a small list. "We need to get three vials of water from the pools in the Temple of Purity. And a bell, and some incense."

"If we're doing a cleansing—"

"Not this time," Pelagos says, realizing the mistake. He smiles at her and then looks back down at his list. "I just want to look at a memory, and a friend says he can help."

"You…want to look at a memory?" Kleia repeats. "You mean view one? Instead of move past it?"

"Yes," Pelagos seems like he will leave it at that for a breath, but then he abruptly moves closer to Kleia, sitting on the edge of her chair and making her scootch to the side to give him room. "I want to look at that memory that upset Liila."

Straightening a little, Kleia frowns. "Pelagos!"

"She's afraid of something, terrified of something." Pelagos motions to the empty chaise their soulbind sits at. She's currently off in Maldraxxus, aiding in the strike against the House of Constructs. "If we can figure out what's frightening her, we can help her." When Kleia gives him a warning look, he shrugs. "Or in the very least, we can make sure that whatever triggered that fear doesn't happen again."

Kleia's mouth twists to the side as she considers it. She knows that Pelagos means well, but going into the memories shared with them—unwillingly shared with them… If Liila had her way, they wouldn't know any of her memories, and Kleia is always torn between her respect for their soulbind's wishes and the curiosity that sparks whenever her memories flash before them.

"What frightens her is pretty obvious—"

"Not the memories of when she was…hurt," he grimaces, no doubt remembering the flashbacks that had flooded up when she'd talked about her curse, when she'd let her guard down. They had been powerful enough that Kleia had seen them clearly.

Clear enough that she had to purge them from her mind because they were haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She can't remember them now, but still remembers how they put a pit in her stomach, made her nauseous. She knows that she wanted to hunt down the man who had hurt Liila, to make him face retribution. It was so strong, so…

Part of her still wants to ask what happened to him, if he was brought to justice—surely he had to have been.

But she can't bring herself to raise the topic because Liila's wounds are too deep.

Were she kyrian, Liila would spend ages in the Temple of Purity, working on easing them and erasing the pains there.

That is the only reason Kleia hasn't suggested Liila try to cleanse her memories. Because no matter how much time they mind find to work on it, it will not be enough. Mortals don't live long enough to purge that much pain.

"I'm talking about the plant memory," Pelagos says. Then, even as he looks down at his list again, he hesitates. "You…did see that one, right?"

Kleia pauses, puzzled for a moment, and then it hits her. "When we were in Olympic Village."

"Yes!" Pelagos motions vaguely toward the south, toward the village. "There's no reason that should have instilled such terror." He looks at Kleia, "and I know this sounds crazy, but I think I saw something in the memory that…shouldn't have been there." As Kleia's brow pinches, he holds up his list. "I think if we can look at the memory, we can figure out what bothered her so much."

Kleia should say no. This is an invasion of privacy, help that has not been requested.

And yet…

It is a curious thing.

Liila avoids Olympic Village. Neither Kleia nor Pelagos noticed it at first. They hadn't noticed how she always had somewhere else to be when they headed to the village to help because she is generally so busy that she has to bow out of plenty of adventures they'd love to include her in. And then they'd had a chance encounter with Ikaros where he mentioned that he's never gotten to meet the famed Maw Walker, that they should tell her she's welcome to come join his training sessions, that Inaar loves them.

It was a little hard to fathom that Ikaros has never met her, especially considering how active he is around the village, even in these times of drought. He works hard to schedule and lead regular training sessions for aspirants to help alleviate the boredom and fears that not being able to progress on the path has brought. He is also one of the guards there, who help to fend of etherwryms and keep the souls inside the village bounds, safe.

He is—like most everyone in Bastion—a good sort, and they figure that Liila will get along well with him. So they invited her to his next training session.

She had been reluctant to go at first, but Pelagos had been sure to ask if she had anything planned before inviting her. That was when it first struck Kleia. There was a discomfort there, an unease that made no sense, and she was able to see Liila searching for a way to decline the invitation.

Pelagos had pushed, however, and their mortal friend caved. The trip to Aspirant's Rest had been a quick one, using the transporter, and the second they arrived, Kleia noticed a change in Liila.

She was stiffer, her walk more mechanical, as though she were forcing herself along. She usually allows her gaze to wander when they travel, but then and there, she kept her gaze either on Pelagos or on the path beneath them, like she was completely disinterested in what there might be to see.

Kleia mentioned that Oro asked after Liila whenever he could, always curious to see how things were going.

That was when it happened.

Liila looked up, to Kleia, only for something to catch her attention just beyond where the ascended walked.

The memory—if it could really be called that—had burst to life, so clear that it stopped both Kleia and Pelagos in their tracks.

A flicker, an image of a potted plant.

And then the fear came. Thick and heavy. Suffocating.

When Kleia looked back at Liila, she was already backing up. Her eyes were wide, lips pulled back in a grimace, brow pinched, breathing uneven.

Then, even as Kleia heard Pelagos call Liila's name, outwardly there had been a shift.

Suddenly she looked calm, emotionless. Were it not for their bond, Kleia would have thought whatever was happening was over. But it wasn't. Instead, the fear inside of her was building off itself, festering.

"I have to go," was all that she said, before she turned a little too sharply and hurried back to the transporter and away.

Kleia looked to Pelagos then, saw the confusion plain on his face, confusion she didn't doubt she mirrored.

Pelagos was the one to look around and locate the plant that had caused the memory to surface.

Kleia is sure that it is not the plant itself that scares their soulbind, but something about the memory itself, though that doesn't make sense. So far as she can tell, Liila has not had anything bad happen here in Olympic Village.

It is a bit frustrating, because Liila doesn't talk about these things. These fears. She has many, but her way of handling them seems to have been to mostly push it all down rather than address it outright. It's unhealthy, but Kleia is not sure they can say that to her without her getting defensive. Not without stirring up that pain that she keeps so well hidden and tucked away.

Since the initial incident, Kleia has found Pelagos inspecting that potted plant on several occasions. Sometimes he stands there, head tilted. Once, she found him with Ikaros, picking it up and trying to see if something was underneath it or…anything that might mark it out of the ordinary.

But there isn't anything extraordinary about it at all.

Ikaros was happy to theorize with them, though none of them can figure out just what it could be about that plant that upset her so. It didn't seem like it looked like anything else, like its outline could have been mistaken for some monster or anything.

"It's not like we can conjure any more than we've already seen," Pelagos adds, pulling Kleia from her thoughts.

Kleia considers that that's true enough and finally crosses her arms. "We should do it with her present."

At that, Pelagos hesitates, his gaze dropping as he seems to consider something. Then he shakes his head. "I think we should have answers before we bother her with it. It scared her so much."

Kleia doesn't like the idea of going behind Liila's back, but at the same time, she remembers the last time they touched too close to her past. She threw herself into the Maw for half a week.

"Just the one memory, and if we see anything more than we have, we tell her."

"Of course!"

Kleia all but forgets that Pelagos has asked for her help with more than one matter, as this one feels complicated enough on its own.

Gathering a bell and incense is easy enough, but getting the vials of water from the cleansing pools is another matter. The disciples and acolytes are still repairing the damage to the temple, so about half of the pools are empty, and anima-infused waters have been used to refill the less damaged pools so that aspirants can continue on their Path and those ascended who need to cleanse more dangerous memories can still be tended to.

Kleia is not sure how to go about getting the waters without raising a few eyebrows—she has left Pelagos to get the easier items. To be honest, it raises her own, too. Pelagos has only said that a friend will be able to use it to bring out the memory, and it puzzles Kleia a little because if they want someone particularly skilled in drawing out and analyzing memories, they should want someone here, someone from the Temple of Purity.

Eridia or Vesiphone would be the best at this, though they are obviously both far too busy to help with something so…recreational.

Disciple Kosmas is the one who finds Kleia standing near one of the pools, vials in hand.

"What troubles you, ascended?"

The last word sends a curl of pride through Kleia, despite herself. It is a new title, a single word that reminds her of her hard-earned wings, and she can't help the way her feathers fluff a little.

Disciple Kosmas seems amused, but waits patiently as she does her best to school her feathers.

"I want to help the Maw Walker," Kleia says, after debating how to explain. The truth is always the best option. "With a memory."

"She is welcome to come cleanse here," Disciple Kosmas says, motioning to the pools. "I would be happy to make time for her, if no one else can."

"Oh, that's so kind of you, really, but…" Kleia trails off, not sure what to say. Perhaps she should go find Pelagos. He can probably explain this better, explain who they have who has already committed to leading them through this…endeavor.

Disciple Kosmas' head tilts as he watches her. "But the mortals have a different view of privacy than we do?"

It is such a simple offer, and it is not untrue in itself.

Kleia nods.

"We can't spare anything from this pool," Disciple Kosmas says. "But I can still help. Come." He takes to the sky, and Kleia cannot help the excitement of being able to fly up after him, to the parts of the temple she has never had the privilege to view as an aspirant.

He lands on one of the higher enclosed platforms and waits for her to join him before heading inside, to a smaller pool. The bell here is still cracked.

"Here."

She fills the vials she needs, stands, and nods to him. However, even as she starts to thank him, movement in her peripheral vision catches her attention, and she looks over to see a small soul peeking at her from around a corner.

As she blinks, surprised to see a soul in Bastion outside of Olympic Village, Disciple Kosmas follows her gaze and sighs. A smile is quickly in place as he strides around the pool to where the little soul is watching them. "How did you get here?"

The soul shrinks away from him, tiny hands gripping the tapestry it is trying to hide behind.

"You're not in trouble," he says. "It's just that you should stay with the others so that we can be sure to keep you safe."

The soul peeks up at him and then over at Kleia. When it sees she is watching, it pulls the tapestry forward to hide it better.

Disciple Kosmas looks back and motions for Kleia to come over. When she is close enough, he looks to her. "This is…Kleia, yes?" She nods, pleased that he remembers her name. He smiles and looks back at the soul. "She is a friend of mine."

"Nice?" the voice that speaks is high and small, and Kleia realizes that the soul is that of a child.

Kleia tucks away the vials into a pouch on her hip and kneels beside Disciple Kosmas. "I try my best to be."

The little creature peers at her, head tilting.

Disciple Kosmas offers his hand. "May I take you up to the others? I bet they're worried about you. Do you remember last time you wandered away?"

"Mits though I got eaten by the Maw again," the little voice replies.

The second he says it, Kleia realizes why this soul is here. He has to be one of the ones the mortals have saved. A lance of guilt strikes at her heart, and she is reminded of Ben Howell, the soul she so proudly brought to Oribos, just to watch him fall straight into the Maw.

She looks at the little one, realizes that he, too, had to have made that horrible freefall down. That he has seen things no good creature should see, much less a child. It has been a long time since she dealt with children herself, but she remembers that they are innocent and undeserving of the fate being doled out to them right now.

For the first time since she saw that swirl of souls spiraling down, she feels like her steps along the Path might falter.

She feels assurances from both Pelagos and Liila, remembers the way Liila put her hand on her arm in Oribos as they watched the souls fall together, told her they would fix things.

They will fix things.

But Kleia can't do that, she can't help, if she loses faith. Especially not after getting her wings.

Kleia steadies herself and smiles more confidently at the little soul, even as another ascended arrives to gather the little one, looking more than a little exasperated that he has had to hunt for this soul—again, according to Disciple Kosmas. The tiny soul waves to them as he is tucked in the crook of an arm and taken to a different platform.

Kleia stares after him.

"We're almost to thirty," Disciple Kosmas says. When Kleia looks at him, surprised, he motions after the soul. "The idea behind getting souls from the Maw was that we could help cleanse them, and in doing so generate anima. We could save them and help the realm get back into working order." He stares at the other platform. "Children are too small, too fragile to face such horrible memories. Not in a way that can benefit us. We cleanse what we can, what they can handle, but the process itself frightens them and…it is not the best of situations."

"What's going to happen to them?" Kleia asks. She again sees Ben Howell.

"Eventually they'll go before the Arbiter, but for now we're keeping them together, up where they can't get into trouble or wander off into a hungry larion's mouth. Most of them are content to stay where they're supposed to." He smiles sadly. Disciple Kosmas finally looks away, down. "They're…if you happen across any extra parchment and ink, they love to draw."

Kleia nods. "I'll see what I can do." She pats the vials on her hip. "It's the least I can do."

Disciple Kosmas gives her a grateful nod and then pulls himself into the air, hovering a moment before her. "Let me know how things go for the Maw Walker."

Once again, Kleia feels a little guilty as she watches him go.

When she meets up with Pelagos, he leads her out of Hero's Rest and along one of the roads, heading back south.

The wind caresses Kleia and Pelagos as they walk. She has heard talk that there may be wards set up to guard the roads themselves, but for now, it is far too impractical. It feels a little claustrophobic, too, to think that every inch of the realm may need warding to keep its denizens safe.

She can remember what it was like before the drought, how there were never concerns like this, how worries were entirely focused on passing rites and moving forward.

It feels wrong to have to worry about such things now, about attacks and traitors, the Jailer and whatever else might find its way to their peaceful fields.

She supposes, with the ancient wars against the Void and devourers, perhaps similar measures were implemented in the past. This can't have been the first time things became so tense, so surely, given enough time, Bastion will be able to return to what it was. The security measures they are working on now will not be permanent necessities. They will be like the colossi, set aside for when they are needed again.

Though…

If such measures like the wards were created before, why were they not kept? Were they discarded?

Were they forgotten?

Kleia wants to ask, but she's not sure who she would go to with such questions. And it is not as though anyone really has time to ask such things. The Archon, paragons, and hands are always so busy, as are most of the older ascended.

She wants to know, to be able to answer questions when the mortals or Pelagos ask about such things. She is their senior, and she should be able to guide them as they need. It is her job to protect them. And she needs more than physical strength, she needs knowledge.

As the wind picks up a little, it is all that Kleia can do not to lean into it, to unfurl her wings and take flight. The sensation of soaring through the skies on her own wings, the feel of the wind in her feathers, the cold splash of air against her skin…it is the purest ecstasy.

But she is walking with Pelagos now, and she is not about to leave him alone on these paths. She would never forgive herself if she went for a quick flight only to come back and find that the forsworn have attacked, and that Pelagos was overwhelmed by numbers.

Because he is a good healer, a good fighter, but even the best can fall if the numbers are stacked against them. Kleia is confident that the two of them can handle themselves, so long as they stick together, though. They have always been a good team, and in the worst case scenario, she can carry him to safety.

She can imagine the future, when Pelagos ascends—long way off as it is. She's certain they'll be nigh unstoppable, with her hammer and his spells.

And if they're lucky enough to have Liila come to Bastion, too…

It would be nice, if things could work out that way.

It would be nice, but the truth of it is that so very few souls come to Bastion, compared to the other realms, and it is very likely that Liila will be a passing friend. One to be cherished, of course, but sometimes Pelagos talks like he expects her to be around forever, and Kleia worries that he will be crushed when their paths split.

Because their realities were never meant to mingle, and Kleia cannot help but remember something she learned during her studies at the Temple of Wisdom. In the rare event that there are interactions between living mortals and ascended in the living world, the mortals will forget rather quickly. In near death encounters, they should not remember the Watchers who send them back, nor any other piece of what comes after their living realm.

A few ascended have spoken about mortals' conversations in Oribos that they have overheard, about death knights who do not remember their time in death, and it just reinforces what is already known. The living—and unliving—are not meant to remember anything beyond.

It makes many wonder about what will happen when the veil is restored and the mortals go home. Will they forget what they have seen here? What they have done? Will all the bonds they have made here disappear in a blink?

If Liila or Carroll or Inaar or Blood do make it back to Bastion, will their memories come back? Or will friendships need to be forged anew? And what will that be like? How will that affect the parties involved?

Kleia can imagine how hard it will be, if they talk to an Aspirant Liila and slip up, referencing something they did before, only for her to be confused. Kleia thinks something like that might not bother the other mortals if they come back, but Liila… Kleia does not think Liila would like to have people know things about her that she hasn't told them, and that she would like it even less if she cannot remember what they know herself.

Kleia frowns as she pulls herself from her thoughts, looking around. They are the only two on this road, and they are getting further and further away from anything. "Where exactly are we meeting this friend of yours?"

"Do you remember Nikolon?" Pelagos asks, and Kleia stops in her tracks, turning back to face him. Pelagos is standing a little bit behind her, picking at his nails as he watches her, waiting for her answer. When she nods, she can feel the nervousness inside of him, the doubt. Even as her brow pinches together, Pelagos takes a tentative step toward her. "You know I would never betray the Archon."

"Of course," Kleia says, walking quickly back to her soulbind and smiling down at him. "You are loyal and good, Pelagos. I have complete faith in you."

He nods and smiles, though it is gone too quickly. She inspecting him, worry rising inside of her. He is not normally so nervous, even when he is attempting cleansings—then his nerves seem to fail him during, rather than before.

Does this mean he's already in the middle of something trying?

But what?

She needn't wait long, as the words abruptly start spilling from his lips, as though a dam has broken.

"I've wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how to…I thought about just showing you, but then that might get someone hurt, so it's really better to explain first, but…" He looks at her. "I wasn't going to tell anyone at first—I didn't know how—but Liila found out and she took things really well, and I imagine you would understand—you're always so understanding—but still it could get you in trouble, and I wouldn't want something to happen to you, but you're my soulbind and I can't just not tell you."

His brow is pinched together as he stares to the side, focusing very hard on the grass blades as they sway.

Kleia stands a little taller, resolute. "Whatever it is, I am with you Pelagos. You need not face anything alone."

"It could get you in trouble," Pelagos repeats.

"That means it could get you in trouble, as well. All the more reason to stand together."

He winces, nods. Then he stands a little straighter. "I… I'm helping Nikolon." He tilts his head, some of his earlier resolve already wavering. "Possibly others, if we can figure out a way to help them. Liila and I are a little stumped on that part…"

Kleia stares at him, puzzled. Why would his helping someone cause trouble?

She isn't particularly close to Nikolon, but—

But she remembers when Pelagos told her how the ascended fell, right before the attack on the Temple of Purity, how Liila had told him of it and how he had been devastated because of how much he looked up to the disciple.

Kleia's mouth is a thin line as realizes what Pelagos is saying. "You're…helping the forsworn."

"Not all of them are bad," Pelagos says, quickly. "I think most of them aren't, really. I think they're just a little lost." He motions to Kleia. "I think, sometimes, how I might have ended up in their shoes, if not for you—"

"You would never hurt people like that," Kleia says, stepping up to him and taking his hands in hers. "You are such a good person, you—"

"Nikolon is, too," Pelagos interrupts. "And there are others. Other who are good and just need a little…guidance, maybe?" Pelagos seems to lose his confidence there, as though that is the part that he is unsure about. He believes with all his heart that they are good, but his doubts come in when it comes to helping them.

Not if he should, but how he can.

Kleia cannot help but stare down at him. "You've…what are you doing now?"

He tells her. He is nervous, his tone fluctuates a little as he recounts saving Nikolon and bringing him food and bandages, of Liila finding them and just accepting that Nikolon could be trusted, of how Nikolon claims there are many forsworn who would abandon Devos' cause, if only there was another way. If only they could walk the Path and keep their memories.

"Nikolon gave up his memories long ago," Kleia says, brow pinching as she frowns.

"He doesn't fight for himself," Pelagos says. "He saw the suffering the Path inflicted on those in his care, and he could not take it. He could not agree with it." He looks down. "He is trying to protect them, the aspirants and other ascended. They are killed on sight now, and I keep thinking about how terrifying it would be to fall, to be marked and instantly an enemy of the realm, even if I hadn't done anything to deserve being hunted…"

Kleia can still see the faces of those attacking the temple, of those attacking her and the others when they did their final rite. The anger, the fury, the determination. She knows they are trying to unravel Bastion, and yet…

And yet she cannot help but look at Pelagos and know that he may be a bit reckless with his own safety, but if he believes in this…

There is no if.

He does believe in this.

And he needs her to, as well.

"Will you meet with Nikolon? Talk to him?" Pelagos asks.

With a soft smile, Kleia nods. "Of course. But if he tries to hurt you, I won't hold back."

Pelagos' smile is brilliant as he leads her off the path and into the fields. "He won't! And he's going to help us with Liila's memory."

That…actually makes sense. Nikolon was a disciple at the Temple of Purity longer than Kleia has been in the realm, so he would know how to handle memories and the like, just as well as Disciple Kosmas or any other disciple of Purity.

Though…

She has heard that many fallen disciples seem unable to handle tasks they formerly did with ease, that the realm rejects them once they fall and what was second nature to them becomes nigh impossible. She's heard of aspirants who can't get into meditation chambers they once walked freely. And there's the way the vespers in the temples stun the forsworn, how the wards repel them.

Kleia tries to remain resolved as she follows Pelagos to a cliff and into a small cave that has been all but forgotten. There are dozens of them, if not hundreds across Bastion. Kleia used to meet her old soulbind in one, to talk in the quiet about what the future might hold.

She pushes the thoughts from her mind, focuses on the present.

Nikolon welcomes Pelagos with a wide smile, though it slips almost as soon as he sees Kleia. His feathers ruffle, and so do hers.

There is a tension there, between them, as they each wait for the other to attack.

"We got the materials you said we'd need," Pelagos interrupts. He's already pulling things out of his satchel. Incense, two hand bells, and some chimes that Kleia is sure weren't on the list.

Even as she puzzles over it, Nikolon reaches out, taking the chimes in his gray hands. He starts to hold them up so that they will dangle and clink against each other, but stops himself. His actions are stiff as he sets them aside. "I didn't think you would be able to find them."

"It took a bit of looking around," Pelagos admits. "But I remember how proud you were of them, so I thought you might want…well, I thought you might want something to make this place a little less dismal."

Nikolon looks down at the chimes, where he has set them, and then inspects the bells. He rings one and then the other. Kleia notices the way he winces slightly at one. That is the one he chooses.

There is an old offering plate that he gathers from a nearby bench. It has been dusted, and he sets it carefully in the center of the room. "Were you able to get the water?"

Kleia produces the vials, and holds them out to him.

Nikolon appraises her and then motions to the plate. "If you would, empty them here. It's not much, but it should be enough to conjure a short memory."

"It's a very short memory," Pelagos says.

At that, Kleia nods.

Nikolon instructs Pelagos on how to arrange the incense, and tests the bell in hand a few more times. Each ring unsettles him, though he does his best to hide his grimaces from Pelagos.

When everything is set up, Nikolon sits across from Pelagos, and motions for Kleia to join them. Instead, she stands back, nearer to the entrance of the cave, observing. Nikolon makes no effort to sway her, and instead begins. Despite the dark shades that have replaced his gentle blues, he speaks clearly, saying the words to guide one through a memory. His concentration seems strained, however, like he is very much aware that he is close to slipping up, and twice he pauses awkwardly between words, as though he is struggling to remember them.

Pelagos doesn't seem to notice. He relaxes, rests his fingertips in the water as instructed.

The image appears, lingers for less than a second, and then is gone.

Nikolon's wilts, gaze downcast. He looks so…defeated. "I…I'm sorry. We shouldn't have lost it so quickly."

"That was it," Kleia says. When his gaze snaps toward her, she motions to the empty air. "As Pelagos said, it's a very short memory."

Nikolon's frown is pronounced. "I thought…you said you could get something out of…of that?"

"Can we call it back?" Pelagos asks. "Freeze it maybe? There's not any action in the memory, so it's just examining what's there."

Nikolon looks a little like he thinks he's being played and for the first time Kleia feels for him. He is struggling, as the stories say, to do what once came so easy to him. He is struggling to do as he once did, only to find that what's being asked of him is ridiculously simple.

Rolling his shoulders and adjusting his wings, Nikolon focuses back on the waters. "You want to freeze the memory…"

"And make it clearer, if we can."

Arching his brow, Nikolon frowns as he inspects the waters. "We should be able to do that." He pauses, looks at Kleia. "Would you mind helping?" She nods, and he looks back at the offering plate. "When I tell you to, channel your anima at the memory. We might not need it, but…"

But his skills are not what they were.

Kleia nods again. She comes closer, sits with them.

They go through the ritual again, and this time, when the memory appears, Nikolon rings the bell differently, allowing the sound to draw out. "Now Kleia."

She channels her anima.

The memory catches and extends. Instead of a translucent plant, it is as though the actual plant is there in front of them. The world around them is a broken hodgepodge of past and present. Tiles from Olympic Village appear in small clusters around the plant and then sporadically throughout the room. The memory holds light that falls in mismatched beams around them, a counter to the darkened cave.

Nikolon shakes his head as he stands up. "This…this is a mess. Either the memory you're trying to conjure is partially forgotten or… I'm sorry I can't do better."

"I think the memory itself is forgotten," Pelagos says, rising to his feet as well as he inspects the plant and then what's around him.

"Where did this come from?" Nikolon asks.

"The Maw Walker," Kleia and Pelagos say in unison.

Nikolon frowns. "That's not possible."

"We're her soulbinds," Kleia says. "We…we saw this."

Even as Pelagos echoes what she's said, Nikolon shakes his head. "Be that as it may, this can't be from the Maw Walker's memories." As Kleia's brow pinches, Nikolon moves over to the plant, motions to it. "Look at the way the edges of the leaves glimmer." He points to the flecks of anima in the light beams and the soft glimmer on the tiles. Anima is everywhere. "This memory is from well before the drought."

"I thought so," Pelagos murmurs, moving around from where he was sitting. When he looks back, he lets out a laugh. "Look!" He moves to part of the memory. Near one of the leaves, mostly hidden from them, is an outstretched hand. It is ghostly, translucent.

Pelagos moves so that he is standing near where he was sitting, and holds out his own hand. It comes up higher than the one in the memory. "This is where the view comes from, but lower. This is from a soul's perspective."

The memory wavers and goes out. Though Nikolon lets out a low growl, frustrated that his efforts are falling short, Pelagos is beaming. "That must be why she was afraid! Because whatever memory she saw, it shouldn't be there. She shouldn't have it. Or…something."

Kleia crosses her arms, still sitting near the offering plate. The waters in it are dull, the usual sparkle around their edges expended. "Why would Liila have the memory of a Bastion soul?" Kleia tilts her head. "Do you think it was really one of our old memories? Something that maybe echoed into her and then…?"

"I don't even remember what I was in life," Pelagos objects. "And I know you don't. That hand was very small, like Liila's." He looks to where it was, pauses, as though he is about to ask if it can be summoned again.

"It is odd," Nikolon murmurs. "You should have the Maw Walker go to Eridia to view it again. I'm sure she could figure it out, and if the Maw Walker is the source, Eridia will know."

"Thank you, my friend," Pelagos says, still beaming. He looks like he might try to hug Nikolon, but catches himself in the last minute and instead stands awkwardly in front of the fallen ascended.

Nikolon looks away, gathering the bells and offering them back to Pelagos. "You should return these."

Pelagos looks like he wants to say more, but instead he nods and takes them gently. "Thank you, again. You've helped."

"I don't see that I did anything but help make this more confusing," he says, offering a dry laugh.

Kleia allows herself a small smile. "It's certainly turning into a mystery, isn't it?"

Pelagos assures Nikolon that he will be back again, that he is working on solutions to something he hasn't explained to Kleia yet, and then turns to go. As they leave, Kleia pauses, catches Nikolon's gaze. She motions to him. "Thank you…friend."

He merely gives her a short nod before looking away.

Kleia feels a twinge of sympathy for the forsworn before her. She turns and follows Pelagos out.

As they leave, Kleia thinks she hears the soft sound of chimes coming from behind her, inside the cave. She hopes that they are still soothing to Nikolon.


Pelagos feels more at peace than he has in a long time as he sits in their corner of Hero's Rest, reading some older scrolls on spell techniques that have somewhat fallen to the wayside. He's curious to improve his own spellcraft, and figures that one never knows where inspiration might be found.

As he inspects the scroll, taking note of how the spells' structures have evolved over the years, Kleia calls out to him. He perks up, sees her sit at the end of his chaise, pausing to arrange her wings somewhat awkwardly.

He sits up and moves closer to her. "How goes the scouting?"

"Well, not well," Kleia explains. "All the areas I've flown over have regular patrols now, so even old pavilions that we're not using at present seem to be out."

Pelagos slumps a little.

The biggest problem with helping the forsworn find a new place, outside of the Temple of Loyalty, is that there really aren't any places. It doesn't help that it gets considerably more complicated with the fact that the forsworn who don't want to follow Devos bear the same dark wings and hair as the one who do. Even if they start accepting them back places, then it leaves the kyrian open for attacks from forsworn who want to hurt them, as it's pretty hard to tell one's true intentions without being soulbound to them.

"You know, I was thinking," Pelagos offers, setting down his current scroll and picking up another. It's one of the few that details how the wards for the temples were created—were Pelagos not one of the ones who had repaired them before, he doubts he would have been allowed to review this text. However, Polemarch Adrestes knows that he is well meaning, and allowed its release to him earlier in the day. "The wards on the temples prevent attack by preventing those who would cause harm from entering. They can read one's intent with startling accuracy." When Kleia nods, he pauses, glances around to make sure no one is near enough to listen. "Well, if we could ward an area, then the forsworn who can enter would be the ones on our side and any barred entry would be Devos' spies."

Kleia blinks, straightens a little. Then she leans toward him. "That would make sense. I think. Though, the bells seem to cause distress to all forsworn, so the wards might affect all of them, too."

"That's because they aren't on the Path, though," Pelagos says. "The wards don't have anything to do with the Path, do they?" He looks back at his scroll. "From what I can tell, they allow anyone with a pure heart in. Otherwise, the mortals wouldn't be able to enter the temples, I don't think." He pauses. "Did any of the maldraxxi working to help us ever actually set foot in the Temple of Courage?"

Kleia's brow pinches. "I… I am not sure." She frowns. "But even if they did, they were gone before the wards were up."

"Well, what if we tried sneaking Nikolon into somewhere warded? We could find out if he can get in and if he can, then we could make that little area a safe haven!"

When Kleia does not seem as excited as he is, he wilts a little. "You don't think it would work?"

"I don't think we can pull it off without some more help," Kleia explains. "All the warded areas are temples or Elysian Hold or somewhere with a lot of people who would notice forsworn quickly and…well, we'd need permission from someone in charge to make certain they wouldn't be attacked on sight. Otherwise, the second they're found, they'll be killed."

Pelagos nods slowly. There really is no way to do this quietly. They will need to gain the support of someone important, the polemarch or a paragon or the Archon herself. But from what he has heard, none of them seem interested in giving their fallen brethren a second chance. Surely they are not all against the idea of reunifying the realm…

Perhaps Chyrus would be a good person to talk to. He is renowned for always being ready to listen, after all.

But then, Vesiphone is renowned for being patient and understanding as well, and she has sent any of her disciples available to help Xandria root out the forsworn who are 'fool enough' not to stay hidden behind the corrupted wards of the Temple of Loyalty.

If they could just prove that some of the forsworn are well-meaning, then Pelagos is sure that would sway anyone with doubts, but the problem is they must first prove it.

Pelagos feels like they are so close, like there is an answer to be had just within reach, but he keeps missing as he grabs for it. "We need somewhere abandoned that's still warded."

"Somewhere where there aren't regular patrols," Kleia adds.

Pelagos sighs, sets his scroll down. However, before he can voice how he feels like he's trying to run up a cliff, Kleia slings an arm over his shoulders. "We can ask Liila when she gets back. Maybe a mortal perspective will help."

Kleia wasn't sure about this in the beginning—he had felt her doubts curling inside of her, even as she promised to give Nikolon a chance—but she is on board now, and it is reassuring to Pelagos to know that she will help. It makes him confident that others will help, as well.

It's just…a fine line. Trust in one wrong person can lead to a lot of damage, a lot of death.

But that won't happen. Pelagos won't let it. And with Nikolon and Kleia and Liila, he's confident there is a way forward, even if they haven't found it yet.

Pelagos smiles and nods.

Silence settles over them, and after a moment, Kleia gets up and goes to her own seat, settling down and adjusting her wings. She's gotten much quicker about it. When she first got her wings, she would spend almost a minute settling in, checking to make sure no feathers were caught underneath her or twisted in any way that would damage them. Now, she seems to trust herself more that she will not damage herself with so simple an action.

There is nothing to be done about finding a new home for the forsworn at present, and so Pelagos reluctantly goes back to studying the scrolls he has, occasionally glancing up to Kleia, to see she has her own reading material.

"What are you working on?"

"Well, I know we—as a realm, our resources are a bit tight right now," Kleia says, lowering the parchment in her hands when she looks up at Pelagos, "but I thought maybe… I have some old journals I don't really need, and I was wondering if there was a way to clear the pages."

"You want to start over?"

"Not quite." She sighs, shakes her head. "There are children here—well, at Purity."

"New stewards?" Pelagos asks, perking up. When there is enough excess anima, sometimes it forms into baby stewards, and Pelagos has always enjoyed getting to spend time with them. They're so tiny and cute and eager to follow around anyone who gets too close. He remembers finding one curled up with a few larion once, as it must have been created nearby. He'd had to go to Nemea to get the little creature away from the larion, as they had adopted it themselves and were keen on keeping it safe from anything or -one.

"No," Kleia says, wings and shoulders drooping. "They're souls. From the Maw."

Pelagos stills as the words sink in. He feels like he's been punched in the gut. "Children are being cast into—"

He cuts himself off as he realizes that of course they are. There is no Arbiter, no one to intercede on their behalf. On anyone's behalf.

He remembers Kleia telling him quietly of the soul she had taken to Oribos, of how she felt like she had damned him herself. How she felt like maybe she didn't deserve her new wings after all.

Pelagos had done his damnedest to assure her that she was wrong. A soul left on the mortal plane would rot. She couldn't just leave him there. And he had assured her that Liila and the other mortals were working very hard on finding ways to withdraw more souls from the Maw. Already their soulkeepers can hold more than they could a few short weeks ago.

It is devastating to think that good people are defaulting into damnation, but he talked it out with Kleia and his assurances to her had helped assure him as well.

Later, he had asked Liila about it, and she told him of the conversation that Carroll had with the Archon when they first joined the covenant, of how the Archon had explained why each of Carroll's solutions for where the souls could go instead would not work.

There were too many souls to send to any one realm. And with the drought, the realms were already struggling to sustain the creatures already present, so adding more souls to it strained them more. And there wasn't enough anima to create a new realm.

The Archon and paragons were brainstorming every day on how to fix this mess, and Liila had told him that for now all that could be done was to gather who they could and pull them from the Maw. More lasting solutions would have to come later.

He has thought about it since, but has tried his best not to focus on it, because there is nothing he can do to make things right.

Now, he is again faced with a sense of powerlessness that makes him shudder.

Kleia shivers, her feathers ruffling briefly before they calm down. "Apparently they like to draw, so Disciple Kosmas said if we could get them anything…I can't see trying to requisition something that could be used for formal missives and the like—and he's probably already done things like that. But I remembered my old journals and I don't need those. If I could find a way to clean the ink off the pages, we could take the books apart and then they could use them."

Pelagos considers it. He knows that it is important to move forward, that the Path demands it to some extent, but at the same time, he has seen Kleia, in quiet times of contemplation, go back to her journals and read through them. She has shown them to him too, a lens into the past, to before he knew her. She has offered him her writings of when she struggled with her own rites, proof that he is not alone and that he can face whatever trials lay before him.

"What about parchment from Azeroth?" he asks. When she blinks, surprised, he scratches the back of his neck. "Well, we could ask. If they aren't having shortages, maybe we could get some from them. Paper is paper, yes?"

The consider it.

"We shouldn't be too dependent on the realm of the living," Kleia starts, then frowns. "We're already borrowing their heroes."

"The brokers are selling food from their world, too," Pelagos says. "It would probably require less anima to procure some paper from there than to find a way to erase ink."

Kleia sighs. "That's true."

Silence settles over them for a few moments as Kleia seems to debate with herself internally. Pelagos lays back on his chaise, stretching his legs out. "Do you think all the realms have children in them now?"

Blinking, Kleia looks at him. "Well, I suppose it depends on whether the mortals are gathering them or not."

Pelagos frowns. Considering what he knows of Liila's friends and the others who pass through, he's sure they are. "I'm just imagining little ones running around Revendreth."

"I'm sure the venthyr are taking good care of any children in their care."

"No doubt," Pelagos says, sitting up a little. "I just…none of our realms are well equipped for children. I don't remember much, but I remember small ones getting into places they shouldn't, getting hurt in ways that were absolutely baffling."

Kleia sighs again. "I do wish we could afford to open a way to a more child-friendly realm."

Pelagos nods. There are so many things he wishes he could do, and once again, he feels like he falls short because he does not have the power to do any of them.

Well, almost any.

"Things will get easier as the anima comes back," Kleia finally says. "And hopefully the Arbiter will awaken soon and we can take the children to her so that she can send them somewhere better."

"Who's getting' sent where?"

Pelagos and Kleia both turn to find Stanikos leading a mortal over to them. He is a new face, short and stout, with a heavy beard filled with intricate braids and beads and bands. His armor is modest compared to most of the other mortals who come through, a little worn. There are no fancy embellishments on the plate and there are a few spots where the shine is off, a few spots where there are scratches that could become a problem for the integrity of the armor, if not tended to soon—and properly. There is a large axe strapped to his back as well, and though the wraps on the handle look like they could use replacing, the blade itself is sharp and ready for battle.

Motioning to the empty extra seat, Stanikos tells him to sit and then hurries off with the words, "I get snacks."

The mortal walks past the first chair to Liila's and takes a seat, hoisting himself up after he props that axe against one end. "I hope ya don't mind my intrudin'." He says. "I heard this is the go to spot for mortals, outside of Elysian Hold."

Pelagos blinks, a little surprised. However, it's true enough. Carroll and Inaar spend a lot more time in the hold than Liila does, and when they're not there, they're usually swinging through Olympic Village. However, neither of them seem to have as many connections here in the Shadowlands, and most of the mortals who swing through on tasks for other realms will check in here to speak with Liila or Pelagos and Kleia.

It's fun to think that their spot is becoming a sort of welcoming area for newer mortals.

"We don't mind at all," Kleia says to the mortal. She then motions to herself and then Pelagos, introducing themselves.

"Henry Longbeard," says the mortal, smiling brightly. He glances around. "Are the mortals all out today?"

"Well, many are fighting in Maldraxxus right now," Pelagos explains. "And then the others are preparing for the assault on Castle Nathria."

"Oh, big plans in the works?" When they nod, Henry seems pleased. Kleia and Pelagos explain what they know of what's going on, of the House of Constructs being brought back to order and of Sire Denathrius' betrayal and the plans to restore Revendreth to its true purpose. Henry listens intently the whole while, eyes big, as though he's drinking in the information they give him. When they are done, he nods slowly. "Important stuff, indeed." He glances around, frowns a little. "Ya know, in time past, there were usually a lot more adventurers and champions runnin' around."

"Well, I hear there's a lot of troubles still in Azeroth," Pelagos says.

"True," Henry nods. "But I think, if more people knew about the time difference—because there is one," he pauses, waits for them to agree. "If more people knew about that, you'd have more help. Take me," he motions to himself. "I got a whole gaggle of kids back home, can't be leaving them to fend for themselves. But I hear if I'm here a day or two, I can be home in Azeroth before dinner," he laughs. "Might not be the most helpful out here, but help's help, right?"

"Of course," Pelagos and Kleia say in unison. Kleia's feathers fluff a little as she assures Henry that anything he can do is most welcome.

He nods, still smiling. He glances around again. Stanikos has returned and seems a little perturbed that Henry has taken Liila's seat, but he says nothing, instead offering a few cut up fruits and juice. "So then, You've told me of the big showdowns, but since I'm here, is there anything that needs doing?"

"Well, first you'll want to join a covenant, if you haven't," Kleia says.

At that, Henry frowns, something that gets marginally deeper as Kleia explains about the allegiances to realms the like.

"Huh, never been much for swearing loyalty to causes and gods," Henry murmurs. "I'm loyal to my family, ya see. Anything beyond that will come and go. Ya got many mortals swearin' to this Archon?"

"Four," Kleia says.

Henry arches his brow. "A good lot, I hope?" When they both arch their brow, he sighs. "I came out here thinkin' to team up with any friendly faces I might find, and been getting a feel for who all is where." He laughs. "Went to the place with tricks and trees first. There's a lot of us there. Nearly a dozen. They didn't turn me away, but I did hear that other places don't have so many offering aid. Went to the place full of shadows next. Small group, but dunno how I feel about all the torture all over. I hear it's for the souls' good, but…" He shakes his head. "Was curious to see who all is here, next."

"Well, we do have a good lot. Very dedicated. All our mortals are in Maldraxxus right now," Kleia says. "They should be getting back later today or tomorrow morning at most, if you'd like to stick around to meet with them."

"Blood's here," Pelagos interjects. Then frowns. "Well, he's resting. Where only the covenant members can go."

"Blood…?" Henry tilts his head. "Right, well." He slaps his knees. "Maybe I'll head on over to this Maldraxxus, see if I can't intercept my fellow mortals, find out who's where," he seems amused to call himself that.

As they nod, a thought occurs to Pelagos and he perks up. "Before you go… This may be an odd question, but I don't suppose you have any paper on you?"

"Always," says Henry. "Why?"

"Oh!" Kleia perks up. "We have some child souls, saved from the Maw, and they like to draw. Resources are a little scarce—"

"Say no more!" Henry lets out a sharp laugh. Already, he's digging through his bags. The stack of parchment he pulls from his bag is impressive.

"Are you a scribe?" Pelagos asks, intrigued.

"Nope," Henry replies, still fishing around in his bag. He pulls out a few other items. Dice, bandages, inks. When he's got a sizeable little stack of items on the table between their chairs, he looks up at them and pats it. "Take it."

Pelagos and Kleia both sit up a bit straighter. "All of it?"

"For the kids," he pauses. "Mine can make games out of anything, but I figure ya got the paper and ink for drawing, the bandages for playin' healer—got a little boy back home who is determined he's gonna be a healer, just like his aunt. He's always wrapping his siblings up to save them from pretend wounds. Had to cut one of them free two days ago." He laughs again. "Then the dice. Kids are so creative, they can do all kinds of stuff with those. Tell 'em it's okay if they break them. Kids worry about that, sometimes."

"I get bags," Stanikos says and toddles off quickly.

Henry watches him go, curious. "The little owl fellows are an interesting sort, aren't they?"

"Stewards exist to be helpful," Kleia says, smiling.

With a smile, Henry nods. "Makes 'em happy?"

"Very," Pelagos and Kleia say in unison.

"Then I'm happy for them," Henry says. "Them buff goblins over in the shadow realm aren't too cheerful."

It takes them a moment to realize he must be talking about dredgers. Before they can think of anything to say, Henry hops to his feet. "Well then, if you'd like, I can send some other things over for the kids, when I get the chance. Maybe some stuffed toys and the like."

"Thank you," Kleia exclaims. "Anything you can manage is most appreciated."

Henry gives each of them a nod. "Happy to help."

As he gives them a flourished bow, Stanikos announces his return. In the time it takes them to look to Stanikos and back, Henry is gone.

Pelagos blinks, looking around for where the mortal has gone, but Henry seems to have simply vanished into thin air. Though Kleia is a little puzzled as well, she is too excited to get the new supplies to Purity. Pelagos wishes her a quick flight, knowing full well that she will enjoy the wind in her wings, and when she takes to the air, he can feel the joy bubbling inside of her.

There is the happiness that comes with flying, of course, but more than that, she is happy to feel like she is doing something.

It is rough, for Kleia and Pelagos and any number of aspirants and ascended alike.

There is this undercurrent, this feeling of frustration at sitting around doing nothing. It abated a bit for Kleia when she was able to ascend, but now it is creeping back in, because there is still so much amiss and so little to be done.

It is oddly comforting that Pelagos is not alone in feeling like his hands are tied, but at the same time, he's glad that Kleia has a task, no matter how trivial it is.

Though the children will likely look at what she brings as more than some minor act.

Pelagos settles back onto his chaise, wishing he had something likewise useful to be doing. Fighting his own feeling of uselessness, he throws himself back into his spell studies.

He doesn't get long to mull it over before a familiar voice interrupts him.

"Pelagos, right?"

Looking up, he offers a quick smile when he sees Blood standing nearby. He's still wearing a kyrian robe and still feels fairly strongly of the Maw, but that awful essence has ebbed somewhat and he looks to be in better condition. Pelagos wonders if it can ever go away completely, considering the glowing runes carved into him look so much like Maw marks.

He nods to Pelagos, a lopsided grin in place as he motions to one of the empty seats. He beckons Blood to join him, and the mortal walks over and takes a seat on the spare chaise in their corner. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Nonsense," Pelagos assures him. "I'm just passing the time."

"Waiting on new orders?" Blood asks, and nods when Pelagos says he is. "That's always the worst. The downtime between assignments."

"At least you need it," Pelagos says without thinking. When Blood's good brow arches, he realizes that he's all but called the newcomer useless. "I just meant, to heal. After all you've been through—"

Blood laughs. "You have no idea what I've been through, but the concern is appreciated." He seems amused. "This whole realm is something else. I had to sneak out of Elysian Hold when the healers weren't paying attention. They think I should be conked out for the next decade, from how they talk."

Not quite sure what to say, Pelagos simply shakes his head. "I imagine that would be mind numbing."

"Death knights can't sit still that long," Blood says. There is something to his tone… His good humor has slipped, but he does not dwell on it long enough for Pelagos to ask questions. "As much as it pains me, I do need the downtime. Just wandering out here has taken it's toll." He pauses, inspects the landing beyond their seats and then shivers, reaching up to massage the skin just before it stops on the side of his face. When he notices Pelagos watching him, he sighs, mistaking the aspirant's curiosity about what he's not saying for concern over his appearance. "I sent word to an old guildmate about getting some armor so that I'm not quite so…startling."

"One of the forgelites could probably make you something," Pelagos offers.

Blood shakes his head. "Howl is the best blacksmith I've ever known, and he's the only person I get my armor from." He leans back on the chaise, makes himself comfortable. "He knows where to etch all the skulls." He stares at Pelagos, unblinking, for a moment before frowning. "There would have been a wink there, if I still had the other half of my face."

Pelagos feels for him. "There's nothing to be done about restoring you? No…skin grafts or something of the like?"

"I'm told I could try to make some deals with the Maldraxxi. They're fleshcrafters, or so I hear," he says. "But I think I'll wait on my armor. By the time Howl's made it, I should be rested up enough to run around again." He pauses. "I should probably have stayed in the hold, but I felt restless, so I figured I could walk around a bit and someone was kind enough to show me the anima gateways. I was trying to go see a friend who's here, but I think I mixed up the names of places."

Pelagos tilts his head as he thinks about it and then perks up. "Oh, you came to Hero's Rest instead of Aspirant's Rest?"

Blood snaps his fingers and then points at him. "That sounds right."

"Who are you looking for?" Kleia asks. Both Blood and Pelagos turn to see that she has returned, and they both offer her nods of acknowledgment as she rejoins them.

"Liila says that Oro is here, and I wanted to stop by and say hey, see how the afterlife is treating him." Blood pauses. "I imagine that's not generally acceptable, when the veil is intact, but I… I was there when he died, and I…suppose it's selfish to want to see him." Blood shrugs.

"Well, he has already met Liila," Pelagos offers, even as Kleia seems to bite her tongue on reservations with the idea.

"If I'm honest, there's a whole host of people I want to look up," Blood says, staring toward his feet. "Being what I am, I'm not likely to get to go to an afterlife anytime soon, and I'd just like to know certain people made it to decent ones."

"There's only one bad afterlife," Kleia says.

Pelagos perks up, nods. "We may not be able to tell you where they are, but unless they were absolute monsters in life, they went somewhere good, somewhere suited to them."

Blood nods, thoughtfully. "I suppose that's more than most people get." He thinks it over and nods again, then frowns. "I guess, knowing what the Scourge can do to souls, there are some people I'd just like to know weren't…unmade, you could say." When Pelagos tilts his head, Blood shakes his. "I was a commander, once. My troops fell in battle when I did." He motions to himself. "The Scourge made me into what I am, but I've never seen any of my soldiers raised, so either they got to an afterlife or…"

Both Pelagos and Kleia look down. What Blood says reminds them both of the fact that even some souls who made it to afterlives were still drawn back. Pelagos' mind goes to the lost seven.

It is selfish to say that he is fortunate to have never really known any of them, but it's true. His interactions with them were limited to a few encounters, while others like Ikaros had taken one underwing, so to speak, and had felt their loss much worse.

Even as Pelagos starts to push the thoughts from his mind, a memory stirs.

One of the seven souls who was taken had been a bit of a wanderer. She would disappear from the village, and Ikaros was always quick to search for her, as she was the one he had taken to mentoring. On one occasion, he had recruited Pelagos into tagging along, and they had been searching outside of the village when an ascended had walked her back.

Pelagos' brow pinches together.

That soul had been an elf, hadn't she?

The more he thinks about it, the more frustrated he feels as he tries to conjure up a clear image of the soul's face.

Even as he struggles, Kleia has started telling Blood of the kidnapped souls. Pelagos missed what led to this, what questions or comments had taken them here, but as Kleia laments that some souls were lost, Blood arches his brow.

"They were here for…how long?"

"Months," Kleia says.

"What were their names?"

"What?" Kleia and Pelagos ask in unison.

"Well, not to tell you you're wrong about your souls, but we didn't pull souls back from across the veil just to grind them up," Blood says. He pauses, frowns, points to himself. "I was a lieutenant in the Scourge for a while, before I regained my free will." Their expressions must be something for the books, because he laughs. "Yeah…sorry. I'm used to people knowing that death knight means former Scourge minion." He frowns again. "Well, it used to. We have some new blood lately, but that's neither here nor there."

"Well, scouts were sent to find them," Kleia says, a little slowly.

"Alright, I just…" Blood points to himself. "I was dead a week before I was raised, before my soul was called back. That's what, two months time here?"

Kleia and Pelagos exchange a look. Pelagos may have a lot of training left to do, but even he knows that bearing souls and the Arbiter's judgment doesn't take nearly that long.

Tilting her head, Kleia motions to him. "Do you remember where you went?"

"No," Blood says, curt. "I barely remembered who I was before I was raised. It took a while for those memories to come back. Whatever happened while I was dead never did."

Pelagos considers it, tries to remember the names of the seven. He draws a blank. That however, gives him an idea. "You know, we could go to Aspirant's Rest. They have the names memorialized there in scrolls. And you could see your friend."

Blood is a little slow to stand—a betrayal of the wear that he has gone through, the pains that have not been mended—but he rises with a pleased smile and a nod to Pelagos. "Lead the way."


Kleia feels for Blood. He seems like a good soul, but whenever someone first sees him, there tends to be either a gasp or a full-body jerk in the opposite direction.

The people of Bastion are not unaccustomed to scars—Xandria herself sports a few impressive ones—but no one is used to exposed bone, or missing…pieces.

It makes Kleia worry about the kyrian in Maldraxxus, the ones who have yet to return. She's heard from Liila and a few others about the horrors those in Maldraxxus faced. She knows some had limbs hacked off, eyes gouged out.

No one will intend to make them feel unwelcome, but if people react to them the way they're reacting to Blood…

It will be salt in the wound.

She vows quietly to herself that she will be sure not to treat them differently. They are kyrian, regardless of what was done to them, and they do not deserve to feel unwelcome in their own realm.

As they head to the anima gateway, Blood flags down one of the visiting ascended. They startle, but don't seem too thrown by his injuries. He asks them about their hood, and if there's any way he can get his hands on one. They tell him to wait a moment, and flit over to Kalisthene. After a short discussion, the ascended returns with their own hood in hand. Blood tells them they don't need to give up their own belongings, but the ascended just winks and tells him that they know where to get another.

With a salute, Blood takes the hood and the ascended helps him settle it over his shoulders. It, like his robe, is a little big on him, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems quite pleased with himself.

"Now I won't stop the show with my rugged good looks," he says, and it sounds more like a brag than a joke.

Kleia smiles at him, and takes up the rear of their party as Pelagos leads them back to Olympic Village.

When they get there, Blood's very presence makes more than a few souls give them a large berth or outright avoid them. They can feel the magic that makes his corpse move, and it is wrong. Unnatural. Blood has to notice the way people are reacting, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

Kleia wonders if perhaps he gets this same treatment in the living world. She hopes not.

Instead, he scans the people as they pass by, nods to those brave enough to greet him. When he sees who he's looking for, he lets out a bellow that startles Kleia and Pelagos along with a few others nearby. "Oro! 'Bout time I found someone I know out here! Guess the kind of folks I keep company with go elsewhere."

Oro is sitting by one of the village's ponds, but he gets up and lopes over. When he sees Blood, he lets out a laugh. "Going for a new look?"

"I got adopted by the locals. They're making me pretty," Blood replies, and they both laugh.

As they fall into catching up, with Blood asking about how Oro likes Bastion and the like, Kleia excuses herself to go to the archives.

She's scanning the scrolls, certain that the one she wants should have been on a lower shelf, when a familiar voice calls up. "What are you looking for?"

Kleia glances down and smiles. "Ikaros. I…do you know where the scroll dedicated to remembering our lost seven has gone?"

He winces a little, then shakes his head and motions for her to come down. When Kleia lands in front of him, he sighs. "I'm not supposed to know, but Inaar, my soulbind, borrowed it. She said that, since the scouting parting that looked for them was primarily Loyalty ascended, perhaps they didn't give us an accurate account of what really happened to those souls."

It still throws her that she's taller than him now. He used to look her dead in the eyes and now she has to look down to meet his gaze. "You're not supposed to know?"

He shakes his head again as he looks out toward the village commons, like he expects to see Inaar heading over any minute. "She wants to surprise me and the others here with good news. News that the souls weren't destroyed. She was telling me all about the forsaken," he pauses, looks up at Kleia. "Apparently Azeroth has a whole host of souls bound to rotting bodies. Enough to fill a city."

"Like Mitchell," Kleia murmurs. When Ikaros arches his brow, she motions vaguely away. "There is a mortal allied with Maldraxxus, a good friend of the Maw Walker's. He's…undead they call it?"

Ikaros shakes his head. "It seems like there should be something that can be done about that…it's cruel to deny souls their afterlives."

With a nod, Kleia shifts a little, crossing her arms. "It is."

Silence settles over them briefly before Ikaros motions for them to head out of the archives—it's a bit crowded with others looking for tomes and scrolls—and they go back outside. "What's got your interest in the seven?"

"Well, we have a new mortal allying himself with Bastion," Kleia says. She leads the way back across the area to where Blood, Pelagos, Oro, and a few others are all chatting. "He is another soul drawn back, and he says most souls dragged back were were not…how did he put it…?" She tries to remember his exact words, "They weren't 'ground up' to power others."

Ikaros grimaces at the wording, and Kleia feels a little guilty for being as specific as she was. He was closer to those souls, so he doesn't need that imagery. Kleia never knew any of them. She had been busy finishing her last rite when the souls were taken.

When they join the others, Blood nods to them. "Did you get the names?"

"Ah, no."

"I know them," Ikaros offers, though he does not sound particularly enthusiastic. This matter has weighed heavily on him for years now, and the renewed interest in it no doubt picks at old scabs.

Blood nods, waits a tic, and then motions to him. "Well, if you want to list them, I can tell you if I know anyone. If nothing else, maybe I can tell you what actually happened to them."

Ikaros hesitates, looking down at his lap, as though he is debating whether he really wants to go down this road, if he wants to let himself hope for the few seconds it will take. Because no matter how brief the hope, when it is shattered, it will hurt all the same.

When Ikaros says the first name, Blood hesitates, considers it and then shakes his head. Ikaros says a second and then a third. Each time, Blood wracks his memories only to let out a sigh and shake his head.

Kleia notes the way Ikaros looks resigned. He starts to excuse himself, but Blood holds out a hand. "Let me hear the others. One more."

"Mattias…" Ikaros pauses, frowning. "Mattias…"

"Sourner?" Blood offers.

Ikaros nods, pauses and stares at him. "How…?"

"He's a death knight, like me." His gaze is focused on Ikaros, as though Blood knows that he's the one who needs to hear this the most. "He's back in Icecrown, hacking his way through the Scourge. He was bitter as a demon that he didn't get selected to go through the breach in the veil with the rest of us."

Ikaros moves closer to Blood, slipping between him and Pelagos so that they are side by side. "You're serious. Mattias Sourner is alive?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Blood says.

It's then that Ikaros can make out the empty eye socket beneath Blood's hood, and he pales. "Then the souls who were taken back to Azeroth…they suffer?"

Blood looks him over and frowns. "Suffering is subjective."

"Be honest with me."

With a grimace, Blood tilts his head one way and then the other. Then he shakes his head. "I can't speak for all of them, but I can tell you Mattias is still kicking. It's better than not existing at all."

Ikaros considers it. "It means that he can find his way home…someday."

There is a change in him then, like something that has been broken has finally clicked back into place. His brow pinches and he lists off the last three names.

The second to last one seems to catch Blood by surprise. He stares at Ikaros, glances to Pelagos and Kleia and then looks back at the aspirant. "Amaeria Lightswill."

"Yes, do you know her?" Ikaros asks, and he has already perked up because of Blood's reaction, though he looks like he is worried about what fate will be revealed.

"Yeah," Blood says, nodding slowly. He glances to Pelagos and Kleia again, motioning to each of them. "So you do." Even as Kleia and Pelagos exchange a look, confused, he adds, "You're soulbound to her."