"Your home is…beautiful," Thales says, reaching out to touch one of the nearer golden pillars and then stopping himself, as though he fears he will put smudges on the surface.

"It really is," Liila replies, taking advantage of Thales' awe to pause. She is feeling the effects of traveling through the portal, through the Veil. Her energy is already threatening to flee her, and those old aches are back with a vengeance.

She almost called Thales by Ikaros' name once, her mind blurring a little and taking her back to another place with gold stretching out around them. Golden fields, that is.

If going through the Veil has muddled her mind this much, getting back is going to be rough. Adrestes will not be pleased with her, disregarding her health like this. They told her, over and over, just how fragile she was, but she had never felt it.

Not until now.

This was not one of her wisest decisions.

She had been so set on handling things herself, she hadn't considered that she could have just gone to Hero's Rest and told Mitchell what he needed to know. She didn't need to take a portal and come here herself.

This was foolish, and she can already see the look Adrestes will give her when she gets back to Bastion.

Assuming she can even keep straight who she's talking to after going through the Veil another time.

She needs a healer, and the druids' spells do not reach her like they did when she was mortal. She needs an anima weaver now, if she is to recover.

But it will be pointless to go back now, when she hasn't even gotten to see Haa'aji or the kids.

Word is spreading quickly through the city that the dead have come to visit, and as a result, their little party has been stopped three times already, twice by people hoping for loved ones to have returned, against the odds, and once by a pair of priests ready to exorcise any unwelcome spirits from beyond.

As a result, they are taking the long way to get to the house, using back alleys and the like. Mitchell has run ahead to let Haa'aji know they are coming, but Blood and Inaar are still with them. Inaar is doing a good job of keeping Thales entertained with stories of her own time in the city—apparently, she has come through often with her parents on trading ventures, though her path never crossed with Liila's.

It is as they talk and Inaar laments how her mother is still a tad too overprotective that Liila realizes Inaar is likely about the vulpera equivalent of Mitchell's age when he died. Just barely on the cusp of adulthood.

To think she has been running around the Shadowlands, making a name for herself so young… Part of Liila wants to wrap Inaar in a blanket and send her home with some hot chocolate, but then, she's seen Inaar fight, and knows the warrior is fearsome on the battlefield.

Though…just because someone is good at something doesn't mean they should be thrust into it. Liila knows she rarely liked getting thrown into battle after battle, but she is considerably more jaded. Inaar still seems to like the adventure of it all.

Thales shakes his head. "I thought Kleia said that Azeroth was a humble world."

Inaar giggles. Blood scoffs.

Liila shakes her head. "She saw a small village during her trial. All of the cities are grander." Liila is willing to say more, but there must be something in her voice that gives Thales cause for worry, because he barely hears her, gaze snapping to her, slightly narrowed.

He reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder, appraising her. "Perhaps…is there somewhere we can rest a moment?"

"Yes, at the house," Liila says, motioning. Her body aches, but she forces herself to begin walking again.

She barely gets two steps before Thales catches her arm. He eyes her another moment and then turns his back to her and kneels. "I'll carry you."

"I don't need—"

"Or I will flag down a bearer right this instant," he declares.

She's not sure if he can actually do that, but there likely are plenty around, considering she knows there's at least one spirit healer—one Watcher stationed close to every major city in Azeroth—something she noted back when she was trying to get in contact with them. It is better to not push him when Thales has already been as understanding as he is. She loops her arms around his neck, and he catches her legs, hoisting her up onto his back.

"You don't need to do this," she mumbles into his ear.

He turns his head, those brilliant golden eyes meeting hers with a stern look that quickly softens. "Liila, I may have never seen you before, but I do know what an injured kyrian looks like. You're pushing yourself too far already. Let's get this over with so that we can get you back to Vesiphone and Chyrus. I imagine they will be noticing that we are gone soon, if they haven't already."

"It hasn't even been an hour—" Liila starts to protest and then sucks in a sharp breath, saying in time with Thales and Blood, "Here."

Shit.

In her rush to take advantage of the moment, she forgot a few key things. She had been thinking if she could be quick, then they could be back within the hour, but it doesn't matter how quick she is here, hours are already passing in the Shadowlands.

If a day is almost a week, then an hour would be…

Her head is too foggy to do the math, and she rests it against Thales' shoulder as he carries her.

She drifts a little. When someone asks which way they should turn, she mumbles that she's never been able to figure out Silvermoon's layout.

Before she knows it, Thales has set her down on a nearby crate, and he is inspecting her, tilting her head back, fingertips just barely brushing her neck. His eyes are closed as he appraises her, a frown in place.

He conjures anima and weaves it carefully around her, and it soothes some of the aches, pushes back some of the fog.

Liila blinks as the world comes back into focus. Thales is giving her a look, lips twisted to one side.

"I'm oka—"

"Auntie Liila!" comes a shrill voice.

Liila perks up and narrowly has time to catch a small body that launches itself through the air and into her.

Hezzak's arms clamp around her neck, his small tusk barely missing her cheek.

Liila wraps him in a tight hug back. "Hezzak! How—"

She does not get to finish her question before he is in tears. Through his sobs, she can make out a few words.

Sorry. Didn't see. Too late.

Liila hugs him again, holding him to her and resting her head against his. "You've got nothing to apologize for, you hear me?"

He nods his head meekly against her, but doesn't stop crying.

"Auntie Liila?" Another, slightly older voice says, much more skeptical.

Liila looks past where Thales stands beside her to see a teenage troll. He looks like he's not sure what to think as he stares at her and Hezzak.

It occurs to her then that she left them a lot shorter and pinker.

She holds a hand out to him. "Hey, Bonsu. Long time no—"

The second she says his name, he recognizes her voice and flings himself into her, almost as hard as Hezzak did, nearly knocking her over.

"Be careful!" Thales cries, though it falls on deaf ears.

Liila holds the both of them to her until they manage to calm down. When Bonsu moves back, sitting on the crate beside her, she wipes the tears off his cheek, Hezzak still cradled against her with her other arm. "How did you know to find us back here?"

Bonsu motions to Hezzak. "He woke me up and said that we had to go get ya."

It is then the Liila looks up toward the sky and realizes that the reason it is dark is not because she has just come from Bastion's brilliance, but because it is night. As she leans back a little to get a look at Hezzak, he is in his pajamas. So is Bonsu.

"And how did you know?" Liila asks. "Another dream?"

Hezzak shakes his head, wiping at his eyes. Inaar offers a handkerchief, and Liila takes it and uses it to wipe the little troll's cheeks as he gathers himself enough to say, "Jani told me ya were home." He hugs her again. "Chi'rhi didn't believe me when I told her."

"Well, she'll know to believe you when we get home, won't she?" Liila offers.

Bonsu perks up. "Ya really comin' home?"

There's such hope in his voice that it sends a lance of regret through Liila. She reaches out and cups his face with one hand. It is odd to see her blue skin against his, to see her hand so much larger than it was in life. Next to the kyrian, she has not noticed the difference so much, but here…

As she sets Hezzak down and stands up she realizes that she is taller than Blood.

"I can't stay for too long," she says, taking Hezzak's hand in hers and offering one to Bonsu.

His face falls before he stands a little taller, a little prouder. His lower lip trembles, but he gives her a firm nod and then motions for their group to follow. He takes them down a few alleys that Liila sometimes recognizes before he says, "We knew they were wrong. The things they were sayin' about ya."

"About ya not existin' anymore," Hezzak clarifies. "Papa Haa'aji was gonna go to the Shadowlands to prove it, but Chi'rhi and Ma'si started cryin' because they didn't want him to not come home, too."

Liila squeezes his hand.

As Bonsu looks back at them and gives them a critical once over, Liila realizes that Thales has been walking with a hand against the small of her back for a while now. She's grateful for the extra support, not that she wants to admit it.

Abruptly, she wonders if this was a bad idea. Aches and mind fog aside. She is so glad to see these two already, she longs for the chance to see the rest of her gaggle, but how cruel is it to them? She has been concerned with letting them know that she is still here, but to what end? She will not be able to be here at all.

Her steps falter when she sees their home.

Then, even as she thinks that perhaps what she's done is enough—enough proof of existence, enough damage…she doesn't know anymore—she is abruptly hoisted up fast enough that she loses her grip on Hezzak's hand.

Even as he cries out and reaches for her, she finds herself whirling through the air, spinning so fast that the world is a blur of color for everything save the one who is spinning her.

Haa'aji.

He stops only when she wraps her arms around him and presses her head into the crook of his neck. "You're making me sick!"

Despite her words, she cannot hide the smile from her voice.

Haa'aji scoffs and trots forward, across the street and into the house. "Ya got taller."

"Yeah."

"And bluer."

"Yeah."

"Ya know, when I said ya'd look better with some height and… I meant…" he sighs dramatically, kicking the door to their home open and carrying her across the threshold. "Ya don't even have tusks. Ya never could follow directions well."

"I can't stay," she says softly before she can stop herself.

"Not forever, I reckoned that already," Haa'aji mutters as he finally sets her down. His gaze automatically dips as it would if she were, well, alive, before bouncing back to her face. He has to stand out of his slouch to meet her gaze at eye level, and he narrows his eyes as he looks her over. "But ya can stay long enough for breakfast."

Before he's finished talking, she can hear Hezzak loudly announcing her return and half a dozen voices calling out in dismay, with another yelling up the stairs for the others to wake up. Several of the children pause in the doorway, looking expectantly to Haa'aji and then rather confused when they see her.

Haa'aji tousles her hair. "Auntie Liila tried to be a troll, but she got a few details wrong, yeah?"

When she rolls her eyes and bats his hand away, telling him not to be an ass, it is all the proof the little ones need. She is not sure whether they recognize her voice or her movements or both, but it is enough.

She settles onto the couch in time to get half tackled by three.

There are tears, there are hugs. There is so much love here.

As she's tugging Aluh into her side and kissing the top of his head, Chi'rhi cries out, "Thales?"

Liila's head snaps up, scanning the family room until she finds that her fellow kyrian is sitting a little ways off. He blinks, surprised as Chi'rhi runs up to him, peering up at him with a critical look. "Ya are Thales, right?" She tilts her head. "Last time your eyes been hurt."

"They actually just got better recently," Thales says, motioning to himself and then leaning forward. "Now, I didn't get to see you before, but that voice…I take it you're Chi'rhi?"

She puffs up and then looks around, proud. "I knew it was him."

Even as Thales looks a little puzzled, one of the older girls, Nuli, sits next to him. "Chi'rhi and Hezzak told us all about the Shadowlands. They said ya were really nice and lookin' after Auntie Liila."

"He is," Liila assures them.

"That's why I'm here," he says, nodding.

Questions bubble from all directions, for him, for her. For Blood and Mitchell and Inaar.

The sun is not even up yet, but Haa'aji comes in with sliced fruits and a large bowl of cooked eggs. Zen'taki carries in plates for everyone, pausing once he's set everything down to give Liila a quick hug.

This feels like such a homecoming, and yet…

Chi'rhi sits next to her as a few others talk quickly, listening to one of Inaar's stories about the afterlives. "Ya really can't stay? We don't mind if you're a little taller now." She looks up at Liila, hopeful.

Liila can't help but wince as guilt again lances through her. She loops an arm around Chi'rhi and tugs her closer. "I upset a really strong monster, and he hurt me pretty bad," she says slowly. She motions to herself. "That's why I'm like this now. I'm getting better, but I'm still just a bundle of aches. And my healers didn't exactly clear me to come home. I just did it anyway because I was worried about you all."

Chi'rhi deflates. "When do ya have to leave?"

"Pretty soon," Liila says, and realizes that the room has grown quiet. "You know how finicky healers are when their charges don't follow directions."

"Can ya come back when ya get better?" Jo'shi asks.

"She has to get her wings first," Thales interrupts, before Liila can even attempt to tackle the question. All eyes turn to him. He blinks, surprised by how quickly he's gotten everyone's attention, but then he nods, expression most serious. "See, we're kyrian, and that means our job is to look after people. We heal people when it's not their time to go, and when it is, we look after them. But we need wings for all the travel."

Mei'ji carefully sidles up next to Thales, looking him over critically. "Auntie Liila's an elf."

"Well, I was," Liila says. Abruptly, her hand reaches up to feel her ears. For the first time, she realizes that her ears are gone. Where they would twitch with annoyance, she just feels the twist of it inside of her.

"Does that mean you were something else, too?" Mei'ji asks, looking at Thales.

He lets out an awkward laugh and then nods. "I was."

"What were ya?"

"I don't remember," Thales says and then quickly motions, like he's pushing the thought away. "It was so long ago, my memories are hazy."

"Maybe ya was a troll?" Chi'rhi offers. A few of the others consider it, but most are back to staring at Liila.

"It takes a while to get wings," Liila says. "But I'll see if I can't get some letters to you in the meantime."

"I'm happy to relay them," Inaar declares.

Blood thumps his chest with a nod. "As am I."

Mitchell seems to consider something and then starts flipping through his spellbook. He stops on a page, scanning it idly without saying anything.

"Will ya write more often?" Jihni asks. "'Cause ya didn't write for weeks last time."

"I will write more often," Liila promises, nodding solemnly.

Haa'aji abruptly reaches out and lightly raps his fingers against her shoulder. He gets up, and she follows him to her room. She enters first, looking at her dresser and desk and the little trinkets that adorn her walls, mementos from years of adventures. Tabards and rings, little items given in thanks from dozens of different factions and peoples for her friendship and her help.

For her years of service.

Even as she wonders if maybe Bastion isn't such a bad fit for 'the Dragonlily', she is jerked into a fierce hug. She hugs Haa'aji back, tightly. The tears finally come.

"We could do somethin'," Haa'aji offers. "Ward the place. I bet some of the witchdoctors could get ya somethin' to keep those flappy bastards from draggin' ya back through the Veil."

"I don't doubt you could," Liila whispers. "But it wouldn't end well." She can practically see Haa'aji on the end of an ascended's spear and her getting dragged back to face some serious repercussions before getting tossed out of the realm.

And then she'd never see Adrestes or Haa'aji again.

And as much as she wants to stay here for the kids and for Haa'aji, she wants to go back to Bastion. Selfish as it is, it does feel like home, somehow. Maybe it is because Adrestes is there. Maybe it is because she never should have left.

Maybe it's just because she's so tired of fighting one world ending cataclysm after the next.

"I'm not going to forget you," Liila says, leaning back so that she can look at Haa'aji. For the first time, she notices that there are lines around his tusks and eyes, a crease in his forehead that does not go away. He looks tired. And sad. "You read my letter, right? Even if I have to forget some things, I won't forget you."

"Considerin' on I don't plan on dying anytime soon, it's gonna be pretty long before we see each other again on your end. Ya sure ya can dodge those cleansings that long?"

"I will 'dodge' them as long as I need to," Liila assures him, his hands in hers. "So don't you go leaving our kids early."

"Hypocrite," Haa'aji whispers. He stares at the floor between their feet, frown firmly in place. "Ya still have too many toes. There's no reason for all them little things," he says, nudging her foot with his own. "When I told ya you'd look good blue I didn't mean…"

"You already said that."

He lets out a hmph. "Maybe I wanna say it again. Maybe I keep saying it and ya can't leave 'til I'm done."

"I'm in really bad shape," Liila says softly. When his gaze snaps up to hers, she winces a little, motions to herself. "My soul got torn up pretty bad. I won't do well if I stay here, and it won't be something I want the kids to see. Me unraveling. I still…It's already… That story Inaar was telling, with me in it? I don't remember it at all. I don't know the city anymore. I…"

She's ashamed to say she's gotten a little lost with names during their conversations just now. She's managed to hold herself together, but she feels like that's what she's doing, and she knows the longer she goes, the harder it will be.

"I have to go back. I won't heal here."

Haa'aji draws her into another hug, tugging her head down against his shoulder, one hand petting her hair. "Ya always had to be such a dramatic little creature." He leans his head against hers, his tusk resting against her ear. "Not gonna miss that."

Lila lets out a faint laugh. "Says the troll who purposely stole from an Alliance settlement just so they'd be on alert as we tried to pass through their territories."

"That wasn't drama," Haa'aji says, squeezing her a little. "That was fun."

"For you."

"That's who I was tryin' to entertain, so I'd say I did good."

"You have to be more considerate," Liila says. "I don't want you going to Revendreth."

"Ouch."

"I mean it."

Haa'aji gives her a mock scowl and then rolls his eyes. "I'm done with all that, anyway."

They stand there in silence for a long, quiet while, embracing one another. Somehow, in all her years, in fleeing the Scourge and fighting through calamity after calamity, she never considered that she would have to be the one to leave him one day. She'd thought she would be sitting beside his death bed, trying to hold herself together as she looked after him in the end.

Not this…

Liila finally leans back, catches his gaze, and holds it.

"Can you do something for me?"

He eyes her, but says nothing.

"Will you please spread the word to stop trying to resurrect me into…whatever it is people are trying to resurrect me into? You know how I feel about that. If I can't be me, then—"

"Ya know, I'd be happy to go to the market with ya. Ya could pick your new body, and I'd take care of the rest."

"I'm not letting you murder someone so I can wear them."

"If ya change your mind…" He grins when she gives him a disapproving frown. He winks, though the tremor in his lips gives away that he is trying to hide his own sorrow. As Liila shakes her head, he reaches out and catches her chin with a crooked finger. He eyes her. "Ya are gettin' a bit pale. I guess we'd better go back out, get Mitchell to give ya a port back." He pauses and then gives her a critical look, one hand on the doorknob. He points at her, expression growing serious. "If ya don't write to our kids, I'll come to the Shadowlands again and set ya straight myself."

With a quick nod, Liila follows Haa'aji back into the family room.

There is a question in Thales' eyes, and when she nods, he rises to his feet. Liila takes in a shaky breath and then puts a smile on her face. "I have to get back before my healers get too testy."

Liila hugs each of her kids tightly. When she gets to Hezzak, he wraps his little arms around her neck and whispers, "I'm gonna be the next Dragonlily, so the stories don't end."

Even as she looks down at him, surprised, he gives her a bright, proud smile and nods to her. She cannot help but smile back. "You'll do it justice, I'm sure."

He puffs up, pleased.

Mitchell steps up next to her, rummaging through his bags. "You know, it might be better if we can get you straight to Bastion. Don't want you so tired you fall off one of those wyrms. I've got a pocket portal in here, somewhere… Here we go."

Haa'aji sweeps her into another hug and the kids all dart in, a circle of little bodies embracing her.

"Alright, step back," Liila says, ushering Jo'shi and Hezzak back a few steps when they hesitate. "If I remember right, these things take us into the middle of a field, and I don't want any of you catching a ride and getting nibbled on by startled larion."

"Won't they nibble on you?" Chi'rhi frets.

"I'm kyrian," Liila says, motioning to herself. "They know I'm friendly. And, believe it or not, I'm about the shortest kyrian can be. I'm doomed to always be the tiny one, it seems." There are a few giggles. "But anyone smaller than me and there will definitely be confusion." She reaches out and tousles Jo'shi's hair. "You definitely look snack sized."

Haa'aji nods, catching Hezzak and swinging him up as he tickles him lightly before letting him settle on his shoulder. "Them beasties be like lions or tigers, yeah? They'd wanna play with ya, and even them bein' gentle would still be a pretty bad cronch on your end."

"And we want no cronches," Liila says, nodding seriously, even as Chi'rhi reminds them that she and Hezzak got to ride on larion once already. A few of the kids manage a soft giggle, though most look sad. "I will write you. You'll be hearing from me in no time, alright?"

Thales steps up next to her. There is a gentleness in his face and his stance as he lightly puts a hand on her shoulder.

Mitchell holds up a pocket portal, and Liila and Thales take it, each of them holding onto a side as it activates.

The world shivers and shifts and the Veil tugs at her edges in a way she doesn't remember feeling last time, when she went back to Bastion with Stanikos. When the rush of anima and space subsides, Liila falls to her knees, holding her sides, half certain that if she lets go she really will unravel.

Thales' anima washes over her, through her, as he kneels at her side. It helps a little, but…

"This is bad. I can call for—"

He stops speaking so abruptly, but it takes Liila a second before she can gather herself to look up at him to see what's wrong. He is not looking at her, but instead gawking at their surroundings, utterly baffled. That's when she realizes the problem.

They are not in Bastion.


It is a slow thing.

A creeping feeling of unease that takes hold of Adrestes as he goes through some meetings with the Archon and then Nebi and the others at Loyalty. It is a nagging in the back of his mind that something is off that Adrestes cannot shake.

He is talking with Achillon when he notices an aspirant approaching them.

If he remembers from his brief visits to Courage recently, during the spell crafting, this is one of the ones who has helped Liila.

Pallessa.

Glancing at Achillon all but confirms it.

Achillon stands a little taller, feathers fluffing ever so slightly before he reins himself in and schools himself a little too well, making his wings sleeker than they should be. The newly ascended opens his mouth to ask something and then closes it. He stands there, awkwardly, seemingly having completely forgotten about Adrestes and the report he was in the middle of.

Pallessa stops in front of them and then motions. "I'd like to talk with you. After you're done."

She adds that last bit as Achillon turns to her fully, already moving toward her. His expression is such a flurry of emotions that Adrestes can't read him. He's never seen him like this, but he does know that Liila has quietly groused that Achillon is an ass, without going into too much detail. The one time he asked, she said that she didn't want to turn Adrestes against him when it was sort of a personal issue.

He hadn't been sure how to take that, but had dropped the subject. Later, Liila had mentioned that Achillon had broken a promise to a friend of hers.

Achillon turns to Adrestes, mouth moving wordlessly as he tries to remember where he was in his update.

Adrestes holds his hand out for the report and nods toward Pallessa. "Go on."

He's never seen Achillon move so fast. He darts up to Pallessa, as though he might hug her, but then stops short, hands twitching forward and stalling in the air. Like he doesn't know where he stands with her.

Pallessa takes in a breath as she watches him, steadying herself. "Is there somewhere we can go?"

Adrestes takes that as his own cue to leave.

When he reaches one of the higher levels of the temple, Kleia alights next to him, moving closer than she should as she glances back the way he's just come. "Was that Pallessa?"

Adrestes eyes her and then nods. "I think so. I'm not well acquainted with most aspirants."

Kleia cannot help but smile as she glances back that way, like she can still see the two standing there awkwardly. "I'm glad." When she notices the slight tilt of Adrestes' head, she motions over her shoulder. "Oh. It's…I suppose it's nosy of me, but they're soulbinds—and soulmates—and they've had it rough with Achillon falling from the Path and getting his wings without Pallessa. They promised each other a thousand times over that they would ascend together and…"

Kleia trails off with a sigh. She shrugs.

As she says something about hoping for more reunions in the future, Adrestes considers how horrible it would be to be at odds with one's soulbind or soulmate. He has worried over Eridia and Thenios many times, wondered how they could be so strong through having their loved ones as adversaries.

Not just adversaries, but the leaders of the ones who wanted to undo the realm.

It's bad enough arguing with Liila about her being able to send word to her loved ones, but—

That is when he realizes what has been bothering him.

It hits him like a punch to the throat.

He cannot feel Liila.

It just like when he realized that Amaeria was gone.

He has been dreading this. The idea that even with all they have done, that it will not be enough. Or that the Jailer will attack again or that some resurrection spell will make it past the wards or…

Forgetting himself, Adrestes reaches for that familiar tug, that pull to draw his gaze in the direction of the Spires.

It is gone.

Before he knows what he's doing, he has handed Kleia Achillon's report. "I have to go."


"You may be wondering why I'm working on you right now instead of preparing one of the arenas or getting the barracks back in order," Xandria says, a chisel tucked behind one ear as she stands on a wall to repair the head of one of the main statues in Courage.

The statue of Agthia stares unblinking into space.

Xandria pauses, reaching out to run her fingers along its cheek and then frowns when she sees a small crack near its ear. She almost reaches for her chisel, but pauses, deciding against it and to instead use a bit of anima to mend the crack.

Agthia would no doubt be appalled at the wanton waste of resources, but Xandria likes to think that she would forgive her for this one vice.

"The truth is I don't know when I'm going to get the chance to work on you again, so I figure I'd better get you out of the way," she explains to the statue. "Once the stewards come in, they'll handle the statues and I'll be busy with other things, I'm sure." She tilts her head, appraising the lines and edges of the stone, comparing it to memory. "Everyone's busy but me, for once. Vesiphone and Chyrus are playing healer to over a hundred rescued helsworn, the Archon is trying to find a way to follow the Jailer to Zereth Mortis, and Thenios—"

She cuts herself off, sighs.

"A lot has happened, love. A lot you can't see." She takes the chisel from behind her ear and carefully works on the hem of Agthia's tunic. "The Winter Queen has restored her covenant's sigil. Apparently, some mortal enabled a reunion with her sister, Elune, and now Ardenweald is in relative working order." She pauses, appraises her adjustments and then continues inspecting the statue for signs of imperfections. "The Harvesters of Revendreth have decided to rule together, and their sigil is forged anew, as well." She frowns. "Though apparently the Nathrezim have returned and taken their Sire to First Ones know where. I imagine he will pop back up at the most inopportune time." She gives Agthia a knowing look. "He always does."

She moves carefully along the wall to inspect part of Agthia's nearest wing. She reaches into a pouch on her belt and gets sandpaper to smooth out another blemish. She's certain she has already restored this wing, and yet…

Why she keeps finding new flaws in the stone is beyond her.

Perhaps her mind has been too scattered to do a good job.

Or perhaps it was the other wing she finished last time she had some free time.

"On a positive note, all the mortals in the Maw have been accounted for. It's made some of the mortals less diligent in returning to the Maw for the souls we've damned, but many of them still go back, and I've got some of our disciples gathering who they can."

She runs her hand over the arch of the great stone wing before her, letting her fingers feel for what she cannot see.

"The Primus is almost ready to create a new sigil, too. We helped him wrangle the last of his traitors when we were saving our fallen brethren," Xandria explains, moving around to the back of the statue to continue her examination. "Stradama is the only one of his former margraves left. He's elevated two Azerothian souls to run the houses of Eyes and the Chosen. Vashj and Draka. I told you of them, after we assaulted Maldraxxus and reclaimed our kidnapped kin."

She runs her fingers over Agthia's hair. It has been carved so that it looks like the wind has caught it, and she lets her fingers trace the curling locks.

"He's got some Stitchmaster lined up to take over the Constructs, from what I understand. Rathar? Rathan? …Nathan? I'm not certain on the name. And then I don't know the name of the lich who is replacing Sin'dane, but he apparently helped bring the house into order from within. I'll let you know who he is when I learn more about him."

For a moment, she can swear that she can hear Agthia's disapproving cluck of her tongue, can almost hear her remind her how important it is to know the names of those one may have to work with.

"We're about ready to reforge our sigil, too," Xandria says, running her hand over Agthia's hair one last time before moving on to the next wing. She's pleased to see that this is the one she worked on before. "It's just a matter of things calming down enough to formally appoint Adrestes to Loyalty. Kalisthene is going to make a fantastic polemarch. She was a bit intimidated by the responsibilities being shifted to her at first, but she's already adjusting quite well. The same with Adrestes, really. You'd be proud of them both. And Kleia. Oh, I wish you could have met Kleia. She's a devoted one, to be sure. She hasn't had her wings a year and she's already making such great strides. There's talk of her becoming the Hand of Loyalty." She lets out a faint laugh. "I've already had to warn Thanikos not to haze her too badly. To be honest, I think Eridia and Arios will keep him in line, but I want to be sure.

"And you should know," Xandria says, coming back around so that she is in front of Agthia. "About half of our temple is currently assisting Wisdom. Some mortals found stolen fragments of souls in Torghast—hundreds upon hundreds of them. Thenios has all of his people—and ours—identifying the souls so that they can be reunited with their other halves, assuming that's even possible. So far, only one of them belongs to anyone here. He still goes by his mortal name, Uther—"

"Xandria!"

Xandria frowns, her hand curling around Agthia's outstretched fingers as she turns to see Thanikos shooting toward her.

"Slow down! If you cause a single crack to this statue, I will—"

"Liila—Embrosia is gone!" Thanikos says, somehow managing to stop just shy of both statue and paragon. His eyes are wide with panic. "Adrestes couldn't feel her anymore and went to check on her, and she's gone, and so is Thales, and he—Adrestes checked the realm's memory, and we think a devourer might have eaten them."

Xandria holds up both hands, palms toward Thanikos. "Slow down. Liila is fine. I would know if something had happened to her—"

For a fraction of a second, Xandria's words calm Thanikos, though he quickly bristles as he notices her tuck some of her hair behind an ear.

"You're still wearing the trinket Thenios gave you," Thanikos interrupts, motioning to his own ear and then to hers. "Can you even feel her?"

At that, Xandria blinks and then reaches up and feels the small curl of metal around her upper ear. She had all but forgotten about it. She was going to remove it when they got back from the Maw, but Vesiphone had suggested she keep it on, to prevent her presence from overwhelming her soulbind.

However, now…

"I have trouble imagining that a devourer could get through the Spires' wards," Xandria says as she takes off the trinket. She tosses it to Thanikos to free herself of the hold it has on her, and instantly feels that frail wisp of a soul that she has bound herself to.

Though she is doing better, Liila is still so faint that Xandria barely notices her most of the time even without the trinket, unless she is actively thinking about her. Even Liila's stronger emotions feel like soft, muted curls inside of her, easy to ignore while she works on other tasks.

Xandria focuses on her, tries to subtly feel for any sense of distress or pain or…

Thanikos' feathers are fluffed with worry. "Are they alright?"

"She's…she'll be fine," Xandria says, and she cannot help but shake her head.

"Where is she?"


Adrestes has to take off his hood so that the metal on it doesn't scrape against the roots curling down from the ceiling of the tavern as he fades in from the other side of the Veil. A sylvar blinks at him with bleary eyes from the other side of a mug of something that smells absolutely repugnant.

As he turns his head to scan the room, a bit of root splinters off into his hair with some dirt. He is too tall for this place. There is a bartender who gives him a polite nod off to the side, though he barely registers her as his gaze scours the room.

There are several tables woven from roots and branches and some stools that come up from the ground, extensions of the same roots, likely. Many of the tables are half-filled, with night fae and their mortals watching him curiously.

He finds the ones he's looking for easily enough. They are the only ones in the room wearing white.

A step forward and he is banging the top of his head against a lower root, and showering himself with debris.

He shifts into his aspirant's form to give himself room to move and stalks forward quickly.

Thales sees him first, and hops to his feet, giving him a salute. "Polemarch—"

Adrestes lifts his hand and jerks it to the side sharply to cut him off. "Not a word. The Archon will deal with you."

Liila frowns at him from where she still sits, on the far side of the table. "None of this was Thal—"

"That is for the Archon to decide."

"Oh dear," comes a high voice from off to the side where the bar is. "I hope these two aren't in too much trouble."

Adrestes turns to find Lady Moonberry fluttering up to him, a drink in each hand. She holds one out to him, and one out to Eridia, who is just behind him. When he doesn't take it, she tilts her head. "You know, it's quite bad manners to snub a faerie's generosity."

Despite the anger curling in him, Adrestes can think of more than a few times when messengers returned from Ardenweald under minor hexes for having offended one of the fae. He takes the drink, but doesn't bother to smile.

Eridia, who has also taken an aspirant's form for mobility reasons, takes the other drink with a soft-spoken thanks.

Lady Moonberry giggles and flutters past them to hover across the table from Thales, with two mortals between her and Liila. "Now then, why don't you have a seat? Miss Dragonlily really shouldn't be traveling any time soon."

Eridia has already moved past Adrestes, and ushered Thales down a chair so that she can sit next to Liila and take inventory of the damage from traveling through the In Between so carelessly.

Adrestes' fingers dig into the side of the earthen mug he's been given before he finally storms forward and sits down beside Thales. As he gives him a harsh look, however, he stills. Thales stares back at him, eyes wide and nervous.

Adrestes' frown deepens. "You can see."

Thales looks like he can't decide if he wants to smile and cringe under Adrestes' scrutiny. "Yes."

When Adrestes looks at Lady Moonberry, she shrugs, gleeful. "He showed up like that."

Eridia has Liila's arm in hand as she appraises her, but her attention has turned to Thales as well. She reaches out and catches his chin, turning his head toward her so that she can see his eyes clearly. She gives Adrestes a bewildered look before returning her attention to Thales. "This is amazing. What happened?"

"I'm not completely sure," Thales replies. "I think a talking lizard gave me back my eyes."

Adrestes chooses not to point out that the golden glow from Thales' eyes is most certainly not kyrian, and that these are not his original eyes. He turns his attention from Thales to Liila, who is smiling at the mortals beside her as she whispers a name Adrestes is not familiar with.

Jani.

The two mortals crow, one of them slapping the edge of the table as he laughs. However, they see how their amusement is not shared by Adrestes, and their humor slips, letting their table fall to silence.

Liila takes advantage of the quiet that follows to plead Thales' case again. "Thales tried to stop me. He was dragged along with me against his will and has done all he can to get me back on track. It was his idea to send a message to Bastion."

Adrestes has been warily eyeing Thales, though his gaze snaps back to Liila at that. "You sent a message. To who?"

"Well, you," Thales says, shrugging awkwardly.

"We enchanted it," Lady Moonberry giggles. "Only you and the Archon herself can read the letter. To anyone else, it will be an image of, well…I'd hate to spoil the fun."

"No one else is going to open the letter," Liila says, shaking her head. She has a faint smile, despite looking incredibly worn down.

"Kleia might," Eridia murmurs just before weaving a spell over Liila. Instantly, she looks better, more alert. Adrestes doesn't trust that for a second. He's well aware of how hard Liila can push herself and how well she can mask her emotions and pain.

"Why would Kleia—"

"Because I left her in charge of Loyalty, so she's going to get any messages meant for me," Adrestes says, tone a bit harsher than he means it to be.

"Perfect!" Lady Moonberry exclaims. She claps her hands together. "I'd hate for my enchantment to go to waste."

Adrestes leans into his hands, letting them cover his face as he wills himself to calm down. When he sits up straight and looks over his fingertips, he sees that Liila's humor has slipped. Her brow pinches as she meets his gaze.

"Are you—"

"Do not ask if I am fine," Adrestes says, frown managing to dip even further down. He turns his attention to Eridia. "When can we bring her home?"

"That's…" Eridia tilts her head to one side and then the other as she considers it. "I suppose we can move her now. Get it over with—"

"Boooo!" Lady Moonberry protests. "We've all thought she was dead for over a month! You should let her stay longer. There's so much to catch up on." When Adrestes turns to tell her no, she gives him a disappointed frown, guessing what his answer will be. She pouts her lower lip as her wings flutter to keep her hovering in the air. "You know, we've lost a lot of people recently, with the attacks on the realm. It's been really heartening to know that one of the Shadowlands' greatest heroes is still around. Even if she's out of the fighting for now."

"She's out of the fighting permanently," Adrestes snaps.

Eridia hums before she weaves another more intricate spell over Liila. "At least for this war."

"I'll believe that when I see it," says one of the mortals. A death knight with small horns and a bovine face.

"Whisper," Liila protests. "This is serious."

"So was your retirement," says the other mortal, another death knight. He grins as Liila thwacks his arm and makes a show of pretending it hurts.

As Liila rolls her eyes, Lady Moonberry sighs. "Well, I suppose we'll have eternity to catch up, once the Jailer is thwarted!"

Liila clicks her tongue and points to Lady Moonberry with both index fingers. "We will."

"It does seem like the Shadowlands work better when you all work together," Whisper says. "And I think people will feel better about dying if they think they can still visit friends, even if they end up in different places."

The other mortal agrees, as do Liila, Thales, and Lady Moonberry. Even Eridia seems willing to consider it, tilting her head and allowing herself a small shrug before she stands up and looks around the bar. "Is there a way out that doesn't require teleportation or shifting through the Veil? It would be better for Liila if she didn't have to go through anything like that."

"So we noticed," Lady Moonberry says with a sympathetic twinge. "When we brought her down here, well. Our healers are good, but I'm glad you got here so fast." She pauses then and looks around the room before calling out, "Groonoomcrooek! Can you make a path up?"

A tirnen that has sat slouched in one corner of the bar lifts their head and blinks at them a moment before whispering an answer that Adrestes can barely follow, and only assumes means yes because of what happens next.

The roots spilling down the wall nearest the creature abruptly shiver and move as though they have a mind of their own. He can hear the world beyond the tavern's walls creaking and groaning. A bit of dirt sifts down from the ceiling.

Lady Moonberry flutters over from the table and to the new path. "Excellent work, friend!" She beckons over her shoulder to the others. "You might want to hurry. The trees don't like having to move around this much."

Liila bids her friends farewell and gets up, though it is clear that she is stiff at best. Moving hurts. Adrestes wants to yell about why she would think this was a good idea, but restrains himself. Liila walks with Eridia, who sticks close to her side. There is not quite enough room for them to go up side by side, so Eridia takes the lead, one hand on Liila's arm to help keep her up.

Adrestes ushers Thales up next and takes the rear, pausing once to look back and see that the wall has closed behind them.

"Do keep up!" Lady Moonberry calls.

The roots continue to shift back into place behind them as they make their way forward.

It did not feel like they had to fly down that far to reach the tavern, and yet it takes a good ten minutes of walking in a relatively straight path before they reach the forest proper. As soon as fallen leaves and soft mosses replace the dirt beneath their feet, Eridia and Adrestes both shift back to their winged forms.

As Adrestes pulls his hood back into place, Lady Moonberry nudges Liila playfully. "You were right. He does have pretty eyes." She flutters slowly up to Adrestes, high enough that they are eye level. "You should take your hood off more often. Maybe next court."

When he frowns, she giggles, wishes them well, and disappears in a burst of sparkles.

While Adrestes is still angry, he does have to admit that seeing Liila—knowing she has not been unmade or devoured by a gorger or succumbed to any other horrible fate the Shadowlands might offer—has at least dulled the edges of his fury.

His relief is short-lived as Liila takes a step and nearly tumbles to the ground. Eridia kneels and catches her. "Careful."

After another cast, Eridia motions to Adrestes. "You take her. I'll carry Thales."

"Are you sure?" Adrestes asks. As much as he would prefer to carry Liila, he knows it would probably be better for her to be handled by a healer. That's why he came to get them with Eridia instead of Thanikos or Arios. He couldn't really justify stealing all the Hands for a recovery mission of two aspirants.

He can feel Arios' understanding echoing into him through their bond. Thanikos is still a little grumbly, but he is happy to know that Liila and Thales really are safe.

"I'll be right beside you," Eridia assures him. "If you need me, just say so." Thales looks ready to assure Adrestes that he can help as well, but he hesitates when Adrestes focuses directly on him.

After Adrestes has scooped Liila carefully into his arms, Eridia picks Thales up as well, and they take to the air. Within seconds, Liila is passed out, curled up against him, the wind washing over them as he takes them home. However, where his bare fingers brush against her skin, he can feel that soothing thrum of energy between them, and he knows that at least for now, things will be alright.

When they return to the realm, they stop at Purity rather than flying all the way to Elysian Hold, taking Liila to one of the extra nests nestled high above the cleansing pools.

Vesiphone and Xandria greet them shortly.

Before Adrestes can even salute them, Xandria is motioning to Thales. "Thales is one of mine. I will handle him."

Thales looks more than a little surprised, and that makes Adrestes suspicious, though he addresses his question to Xandria. "That aspirant is no one's acolyte."

Xandria's brow arches high enough to disappear beneath her helm in response to Adrestes' mistrust. "The offer has been made. As soon as the temple is ready to welcome people back, he will be granted the formality."

Vesiphone tilts her head, appraising Thales herself. "You have accepted this role?"

Before Xandria can dismiss their concerns, Thales salutes and then ducks his head respectfully. "The offer was made. I have not accepted it yet because I did not want to seem like I had not considered it carefully."

"But you have decided?" Xandria asks.

"I would love to serve Courage," Thales says with a firm nod.

Eridia's mouth twists to the side, but Vesiphone simply nods. "He is yours to discipline." She pauses and looks at Liila where she lays, still unconscious. "As Liila is a new aspirant, just starting her journey down the Path, she is mine."

Thales fidgets. "She—"

He cuts himself off when Xandria shakes her head. A warning not to overstep.

Adrestes watches as Xandria takes Thales by the harness and departs with him, heading down to the anima gateway below.

Adrestes then turns to Liila. His brow furrows when he notices a small chain around her neck, and he reaches down and pulls it from her robes to reveal her resurrection ward. Vesiphone lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

"It looks like this adventure was planned a little better than we initially thought."

"We did not get much of the story," Eridia says, reporting dutifully. "Just a dramatic exclamation that Thales was not to blame." She motions to Liila. "According to her, he tried to stop her and got dragged along."

"That would match with the memory we saw," Vesiphone says. "The only reason he was with her was because he tried to grab her and stop her from getting whisked away each time."

Adrestes stills at that, slowly turning his attention back to Vesiphone. "Each time?"

"Twice," she replies. She is trying not to smile as she shakes her head. "This one is going to cause us problems. We may need a few new rules in place."

"She didn't go straight to Ardenweald?" Adrestes clarifies. He had thought something was off with the way Xandria had told him where to find Liila. He had thought that, if Liila was working with the devourer, as she seemed to be—he'd realized it after watching that dreadful memory a few times that Liila was not at all distressed by the damned thing—it was odd that she hadn't just headed down to the Hold or to somewhere where she could find Blood or Inaar to relay her message.

"She went to Hero's Rest, first," Vesiphone says, picking her words with care. "And then it gets interesting…"


When Liila wakes up, she is relieved to feel that her aches are already somewhat muted. After getting pulled through space by Nibbles, going through the Veil twice, and getting pulled through space to go to the night fae tavern, she had felt…

Awful.

She'd kept thinking about that sphere that Pelagos had shown her, of the pieces twisting and distorting, of what he had said.

The likelihood that you'd even remember who you are is slim.

She definitely pressed her luck with this little outing.

At least…at least she was able to talk to Haa'aji. At least he knows the truth. And so do the little ones.

When Liila tries to sit up, a hand presses firmly on her shoulder, pinning her down.

"No," comes that deep baritone that can come from no one other than Kosmas.

When she opens her eyes, she finds him watching her, frown in place.

She blinks at him. Once, twice. "What are you—"

"Now that everyone knows you're still around," he says, motioning to her with his free hand, "We've decided to look after you here in Purity."

"Everyone, hmm?"

"Your little stunt in Hero's Rest made sure that word spread fast."

It's Liila's turn to frown. She thinks back, trying to remember exactly what it was that she did. She remembers being in Hero's Rest, heading toward her corner and seeing Mitchell and calling for a portal and…

And he was talking to a bunch of people, wasn't he?

"Didn't think things through very far, did you?" Kosmas asks. For just a second, she thinks she sees an amused quirk to his lips, but it's gone before she can be sure it's there.

"Well, I for one, am thrilled to see you," Liila says, motioning to him. "How are the bells coming along?"

"You know you're in trouble."

"I figured I would be."

"I've never seen Adrestes fume like this," Kosmas adds. When Liila arches her brow, he shakes his head at her. "You had him worried."

"He didn't take it out on Thales, did he?" Liila tries to sit up again, but Kosmas' grip is firm.

"Thales is serving penance in Courage, from what I understand," Kosmas says after a brief silence. "Yours will be served here, once you're cleared to move around."

"What will my penance be?" Liila asks.

"You could try to sound a little repentant," Kosmas replies. "What you did was unheard of."

Liila frowns at him. "Kosmas, I begged them for weeks to just let my family know my soul wasn't completely snuffed out. I was fine with not being the one to carry the message. They could have just lied to me and said they did it, and I would have trusted them and none of this would have happened."

Kosmas cocks his head. "So it's not your fault?"

"I do not bear the sole responsibility," Liila clarifies. "I made my choices in response to theirs."

"I had not realized you would flout authority so readily."

The voice comes from behind Liila, and she has to tilt her head up a bit before she can see the Archon hovering a near the edge the platform her new bed is on.

"I know you knew our reasons," the Archon continues.

"The Jailer is in Zereth Mortis," Liila replies, trying to sit up again, only for Kosmas' grip to be steadfast. "He will not be reaching out to hurt anyone to hurt me. The ones around me are safe."

The Archon's head tilts ever so slightly to the side as she appraises Liila. Abruptly she motions to Kosmas. "Leave us."

He rises to his feet with fluid movements and salutes her before taking to the air. Liila only glances after him briefly before finally sitting up and turning so that she is facing the Archon. The god, in turn, alights on the platform. Swirls of white light extend from where her feet touch the stone, forming intricate runes, much like the first time Liila had a private conversation with the god.

This time, however, the Archon is not smiling.

She takes a few steps to the edge of Liila's nest of blankets and kneels, leaning against her knee as she lowers her face closer to Liila's.

"What you did was rash and stupid." When Liila starts to protest that she had no other options, the Archon holds up a hand. The air bristles with something that almost feels like electricity as Liila snaps her mouth shut. "You can feel the repercussions, can you not? The way your soul feels strained? The aches?"

Liila hesitantly nods.

"Thales has similar aches now."

"What?"

"You care that he was injured?"

Liila shakes her head in disbelief. "Thales wasn't hurt when—"

"His soul was wounded when your soulbinding was severed. Those sort of injuries leave bearers and watchers realm-bound for months. We do not send people through the Veil or the In Between with such injuries. Why do you think we left our wounded in Maldraxxus for as long as we did? Bringing them home immediately would have exacerbated their injuries."

Liila stands up. Her legs are a little shaky, but she ignores that. She's forced herself to function through worse. "Is Thales alright? Can I—"

"Can you what, aspirant?" the Archon asks, head lifting as Liila stands. "The only reason you were not lost to us completely is because Xandria bears the burden of your damaged soul against her own. You are in no condition to help anyone. Nor will you be anytime soon." She shakes her head, speaking again before Liila can even hope to come up with a response. "And what of Adrestes? Would you leave him to face eternity without his soulmate?"

This is easily the harshest that the Archon has ever spoken to her, save perhaps the time, what feels like a lifetime ago, when she warned Liila not to antagonize Devos. Liila's legs give out, and she sinks back into her blankets. She struggles a moment before looking back at the Archon. "Will Thales be alright?"

"He will be fine," she says, tone just barely losing its harsh edge. "But I need you to understand that if you are to stay here, if you are to stay with Adrestes—and Thales and Kleia and Pelagos and all the others you have grown close to, you cannot do as you have. There is an order to this realm, and as of now, you are on the bottom rung, aspirant. You cannot dismiss orders just because you do not understand them or agree with them."

"I can't and won't follow orders that are wrong," Liila replies, meeting the Archon's gaze evenly. When the Archon's brow arches, Liila sits a little taller. "If not for Haa'aji, you wouldn't have me now." She motions to herself. "I lost everything. My freedom, my memories, my hope, even my afterlife and the soulmate within it. When I was at my lowest, when I no longer even dreamed because I knew there would never be a future beyond that miserable bastard's torture, Haa'aji was the one who saved me. He was the one who saved my soul, well before you ever laid eyes on me. And he has looked after me every step of the way since. He is the only one—he and our children—who has never failed me, and that includes every god and force on that side of the Veil." She motions to the Archon. "Perhaps in time, you will become a more certain force, but for now he is more sure to me than even you. He needed to know the truth."

"And what good would the truth be to him if it was that your soul was lost trying to get to him?"

"It wasn't."

"It nearly was, and you know that. I know you can feel the truth of it." The Archon motions to her. "You are very caring for others, but you risked yourself foolishly and needlessly because of this Haa'aji. This sort of behavior is the exact reason that I have my people cleanse themselves of mortal ties. You are a model example of why I should not let people keep their ties. I do not need to imagine the damage you could do to yourself and others due to this bond you share with your mortal friend because I have seen it happen before. I have seen good souls lost because of this same sort of recklessness. And I have seen good souls lose charges because of it, too."

Liila does not know what to say to that. She has heard before that she and Haa'aji's connection is unhealthy, so many times, from so many people. She has known that she does not always make smart decisions when he is involved, but she still cannot see that what she did was outright wrong. They were going to let him think she was unmade, and she couldn't let him suffer. Him or their children.

Again, a little voice in the back of her mind wonders if it was more her own sense of loss that she was trying to assuage rather than theirs, if going back to them as she did has done any real good at all. After all, Haa'aji has always been firm in keeping his own beliefs, and he would have scrounged up the truth on his own…

Though in doing so, he likely would have left their children unattended.

And he would have incurred the Archon's ire himself.

Her actions prevented him from doing something even stupider, if history is any indication.

That makes her pause.

They do occasionally bring out the worst in each other, don't they?

Perhaps the Archon has little bit of a point.

A smidgen of one, at least.

The idea of forgetting Haa'aji, though, when he has been such an integral part of her for so long…

To think her love for him is a flaw that must be abandoned…

"The Path is changing, aspirant," the Archon says, seeming to read her worries. "Even if I do decide those memories must be forfeit, I will not demand them from you now. If you wish to wait half of eternity to forget, then so be it. But you will not get your wings until I am certain you will not do something foolish like this again."

Liila stares up at the god. She can feel the way the tension in the air has bled out. There will be no incoming wrath, not now.

Even so, she cannot help but feel like this talk of the Path and wings is…almost too good to be true.

She nods at the Archon, not sure she trusts her voice just yet. She feels almost like a child, being warned not to disobey the house rules again.

In some ways, perhaps she is.

The Archon appraises her carefully for a long, quiet moment, before she finally says, "Understand that others have been sent from this realm for less egregious offenses. However, considering your circumstances, how we failed you when you first came to us, how you have been a most dedicated ally even before you knew you were destined for this realm, and how I am loathe to send away Adrestes' soulmate when he has finally found you, I am willing to be lenient. Just. This. Once. I will give you one chance: swear to me that you will never again leave the realm as you have, until such a time as you are called to bear souls or given explicit permission otherwise. Swear to me that you will respect the order of this realm." She pauses for but a second before adding, "Swear to me thus, and I will allow you to stay within Bastion's borders. Refuse me—or go back on your word—and you will be sent from this realm as soon as you can make the journey. In such a scenario, Adrestes will be able to forget you and live his life peacefully as he did before he knew he had a soulmate. You will not have that reprieve. You will spend eternity, wherever you end up, knowing that you ruined something most pure for not only yourself, but for Adrestes as well."

Liila stares up at the Archon, eyes wide. She has learned, time and time again, that swearing anything to a god is no light matter. She can feel the weight of what is being asked of her, and a small part of her is terrified that she will not be able to follow through. She is afraid she will do something, somewhere down the line. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even this century.

But forever is a long time to promise to behave.

"Now is not the time to hold your tongue." The Archon's gaze never falters, her expression impossible to read. "Make your choice, aspirant."

"I swear to you," Liila whispers, the words tumbling out in a breath. There is a fear in her, yes, but when she thinks of Adrestes, of spending an eternity somewhere where she cannot even feel that tug, of knowing that he will never be able to replace her, that the best he will be able to do is just forget… "I won't leave the realm again without permission. I won't return to the realm of the living. Unless I am bearing souls from it."

"And?"

"I will respect your authority," Liila says.

"And the authority of my paragons."

"And the authority of your paragons."

"And their Hands."

"And their Hands." Liila says and then adds, "And I will respect the disciples and instructors I am to learn from."

The Archon inspects her one last time before nodding. "Good." She motions toward Liila. "You should rest. Adrestes is to be made paragon soon, and I would have you well enough to attend his ceremony." With that, she rises and takes to the air, leaving Liila sitting in the middle of her blankets, dumbstruck.

"Well," Vesiphone says, and when Liila looks to the side, she finds that the paragon has come up to sit with her at some point—likely while the Archon was making her point.

"Sometimes we all need the fear of a god instilled in us," Vesiphone says, and her voice is a gentle chide. "You don't need to look so stricken. We'll be happy to guide you so that you do not tumble from the Path or break your oath."

"Are you supposed to be this nice to me right after a verbal thrashing like that?" Liila asks.

Vesiphone cannot help a brief smile before arching her brow and looking down at her. "Just because I'm nice doesn't mean you're not in trouble."

"Right." Liila brushes a few loose locks behind an ear and frowns when they fall forward again, her small ears not enough to keep them in place. She resists the urge to try again and instead focuses on Vesiphone. "So what will my punishment be?"

At that, Vesiphone pauses, leaning into one of her palms as she considers it where she sits, cross-legged. "I will have to think on that. Perhaps I'll have you assist with re-penning damaged documents." She pauses before adding, "The boring ones, of course."

"Of course," Liila nods. "It wouldn't be punishment if I enjoyed it."

Vesiphone winks. "Regardless, that will be something to figure out at a later date. For now, you need your rest."


"You know you can take a break when you need it, yes?"

Thales blinks and looks up in time to see Xandria alighting beside him. It still feels strange to see anything, like this is all some dream, and a part of him is worried with every blink that he will open his eyes and find that his world is darkness once again.

He has been fighting that fear by taking advantage of every second that he can see, in case this mysterious gift proves to have a time limit.

Granted, Chyrus has inspected him and said that it is not just some trick. Thales really does have eyes again, so there's no reason they would stop working...

Thales is a little unnerved because they emit that golden light instead of the usual white of a kyrian, but the few mortals who have come by the temple looking for Xandria or Thanikos have told him that Jani does not rescind gifts or undo trades.

Even with all of these assurances, however…

There have been a couple times that he has dared to close his eyes for more than a blink—aside from sleeping, which does not come readily to him right now—where he has tested to see if he can still feel the world as he was learning to do.

Each time, he has found that he can, and each time, he has been quick to open his eyes again, to see that they are still there, that these senses are not somehow mutually exclusive.

Hipokos is happy for him. Ecstatic, truly. Thales feels a little guilty that he could not find a way to return what was taken from Hipokos as well, but the steward has been quick to squeeze his hand or send mental images of tight hugs when he feels that guilt welling up.

Now that Mikanikos does not need to figure out a way to make Thales see, he has turned to drawing up blueprints that might someday enable Hipokos to talk again. Apparently the forgelite prime is most concerned with how a metal tongue might feel in the mouth, and has scrapped over a dozen different attempts, several simply because they would not enable his fellow steward the joy of being able to taste a purian again.

Hipokos does not mind the wait.

For now, Hipokos is at the forge with Mikanikos, happily working on the few remaining prosthetics that are needed—the excursion into the Maw resulted in a few more severe injuries that echo those suffered in Maldraxxus. One is a full wing that they have been trying to balance out with the one the injured ascended still has.

With Hipokos busy, and Liila under house arrest in Purity, Thales has chosen to throw himself into his own penance: helping to prepare Courage for the return of its people.

He has been busy taking inventory of weapons not completely destroyed and helping to tidy up other arenas and the barracks. A handful of Courage's stewards have already returned, even without orders to, and they gleefully settle in to assist with whatever task Xandria gives to Thales, his own personal flock of assistants.

Koa and Kua are among them, and he is glad for their company.

With them helping him, he can't help but feel like he's not really suffering much in the way of a proper punishment for going to the realm of the living. To be honest, it sort of feels like Xandria doesn't want to punish him at all. While he didn't intentionally go to Azeroth, it still seems like a pretty grave thing to have done, to go where the dead are not meant to be.

He asked Xandria, on the second day of his work, if he shouldn't be doing something less enjoyable—he has found a certain serenity in being able to sweep and gather and do all the little things he always took for granted before. It is so good to be able to do the things that he struggled with once his sight was lost to him. He had admitted to her that he is just so happy to not have hands constantly coming at him from the darkness, gripping him with well-meaning intentions, but still taking away his agency, that he's not sure she could actually assign him a task he would truly dislike.

Xandria had seemed most amused, and had told him that she was dictating a punishment that fit the crime. He could swear she'd winked at him when she said it, though any humor she might have had had been gone in an instant, when an ascended had come to report to her about something.

She has been busy, but she still manages to check in on him almost daily. Sometimes, she merely pauses while flying overhead, but today, it seems she is here to talk, at least for a moment.

Xandria is appraising him carefully as he finally sets down a decent sized crate of broken blades that will need to either be repaired or just scrapped and used to forge new weaponry.

"I took a break not too long ago—"

"No!" Koa interrupts, toddling over and giving Thales a critical look. "You not take break. You say later. Always later. Not good for you-hoo!"

"You've been ratted out, acolyte," Xandria says softly. "Come, meet me by the arena's edge."

With that, she takes to the sky, reaching their meeting spot with barely any effort. Thales nods to the stewards and excuses himself before jogging after her.

"There was no rush," Xandria says when he is close enough that she can speak without raising her voice. She is sitting, one knee pointed toward the heavens as she leans against it, watching Thales with a keen eye.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

"I wanted to make sure being back here does not weigh on you," she says. When Thales tilts his head, Xandria motions toward the mainland. "Aspirant Perese came to the temple just recently. She wasn't here ten minutes before she started panicking. We're not sure what it was that set her off, but she's back at Humility now." Xandria is quiet before adding, "She is hardly alone. And there is no shame in having been affected by the brutality of what happened here."

"I—" Thales starts to assure her that he is fine, but stops himself. He lets his gaze wander the temple, taking in just how empty it is. Before, there was always so much noise… It wasn't so bad when the mortals were here, experimenting with their spells, but now that they've gone, it is…

Eerie.

And the silence amplifies what little sounds there are, so if a bird alights on something and knocks it over, the clang echoes further than it should, makes it hard to pinpoint where it has come from, makes it seem ominous.

In addition, it was almost better when he couldn't see. He could memorize the paths to get to where he needed, but there had been no visual points to remind him of what was. In the barracks, he had to dismiss himself for a while when he came to a fallen friend's bunk. There are parts of the temple in the north that he avoids because that is where he was when they were attacked, and in the brief time he has passed through, he has felt himself hounded by ghosts, like the memory surge that left him lost in Humility might happen again at any second.

It is not so bad if he stays in areas he is less familiar with, places he did not frequent before, but…

But he wants to overcome all of that, and refusing to face it will do nothing for him.

"I admit, there are times when I am unsettled," Thales says, choosing his words with care, "but I loved it here. And I would like to love it here again. I think it will be easier when more people come back, and I think if I can help bring the temple to that point where they can, it would gladden my heart."

"So you do not regret becoming an acolyte of mine?"

"Not for a second," Thales says, smiling up at her.

She seems genuinely surprised before allowing herself a small half smile in return. "Good. I will keep you updated on when the official ceremony will be. Perhaps in another month or so."

Thales salutes her. When she waves him off, back to his flock of stewards, he pauses. "Would it be alright if Liila comes? To the ceremony?"

"I will check with Vesiphone," Xandria says. "I know she will be attending Adrestes' ascension to paragon, so I don't see why she can't attend yours to acolyte."

Thales perks up at that. "Adrestes is officially going to be paragon?"

Xandria nods. She pauses and then motions to Thales, "You will be welcome to attend that, as well."

"Me?"

"It is an honor extended to you thanks to your acts of heroism in Maldraxxus," Xandria says as she gets up, glancing at something that Thales cannot see. Someone on the other side of the Veil, perhaps. "Some of the mortals have been invited as well. Perhaps you can help make sure they behave themselves and that Liila doesn't get into anymore adventures." She takes to the air and then pauses, giving him a stern look. "In the meantime, however, make sure you take breaks. I'd hate to have to hand you over to Vesiphone. She would be quite cross with me."

Thales salutes her again, and she nods to him before disappearing.

Kua meets him halfway back to where the stewards are still working with some sweet juice.

After a short break, Thales has just finished discussing what sort of repairs will be needed with the stewards when a familiar voice that makes his stomach twist into knots—not a completely unpleasant feeling—calls his name.

Mevix.

The lot of them look toward the voice.

Almost immediately, two of the stewards fluff defensively, one gripping a broom as though it is a sword that they might defend themselves with. The other has a hammer.

Thales gets to his feet slowly, appraising the skeletal creatures coming toward them, glancing to see where his own weapons are, despite himself—he keeps a few nearby no matter where he is. Part of him feels foolish for needing the comfort, but Thanikos has told him twice that if it helps ease his nerves, there is no harm in keeping a polearm or a knife handy.

Koa is the one to break the tension. "Mitchell! Mevix!"

Kua chirps happily. "I get more juice!"

As they draw closer, he recognizes Mitchell and reminds himself that he has already recognized Mevix's voice.

That makes the other stewards settle, at least a little. It is when Thales looks back and puts a hand on one of the tense one's arms that he hears Mevix's voice calling out a greeting and realizes that it really must be him.

He smiles at the nervous steward, assures them all is well, and then looks back at their two visitors.

Mitchell gives him a casual wave, slouching along as he saunters up. Mevix's stride is much more purposeful, though he keeps it slow enough so that he does not leave his mortal companion behind.

Though…looking at Mitchell now, Thales cannot help but wonder if he really counts as mortal. He had heard a few ascended whisper about the forsaken on a few occasions, but when they were in Azeroth together, he had been so overwhelmed with all the things he could suddenly see that he hadn't taken a proper inventory of just how little Mitchell seemed to fit into that world of breath and life.

Mitchell has golden eyes, too. Mevix's glow the same green as the wicked magics their attackers had used when Courage was besieged. Thales feels a hint of shame curl through him at the fact that, despite knowing Mevix, despite knowing that he is a good and honorable soul, he is unsettled by his appearance.

He meets them a little ways from the stewards, offering a small wave.

Mevix appraises him, and then meets his gaze and holds it, head tilting slightly. His movements and his body are a little stiff. He doesn't say anything, perhaps waiting for Thales to say something first.

However, nothing springs to mind other than a greeting that feels awkward. Thales isn't sure why he feels so self-conscious all of a sudden, but before he can manage to ask how Mevix has been, how Maldraxxus is faring, or anything else, Mevix simply nods.

He sticks his chin out as a way to motion to Thales. "Nice eyes."

"Thank you," Thales says, reaching up to scratch at his eyebrow.

"No complaints?" Mevix asks. "No weird colors? Or lack thereof?"

Thales lets out an awkward half-laugh. "No, no. They're perfect."

Mevix nods. "Good. The process wasn't too traumatic, I hope." His boney fingers fidget with the sickle resting on his hip as he speaks, as though he's nervous.

Perhaps it is because he is a Maldraxxi in the Temple of Courage. It is a wonder that the ascended have not bothered him—or maybe they did before he reached Thales?

Or perhaps he has been left alone because Mitchell is a familiar enough face in the realm.

Thales shrugs, smiles. "No, it was… Someone stole my blindfold, and I could see."

Mevix stills, stands a little straighter. When he speaks, his voice is rich with dismay. "That's…it? That's all there was to it?"

Thales nods. "Someone named Jani?"

"Minor deity," Mitchell explains. "Liila's kids pray to him, and Thales helped two of them when they came to the Shadowlands, and Jani is…decent to those who help the ones he considers his."

"That," Mevix points a skeletal finger at Thales' face, "is more than 'decent'."

"You've never been bitten by him as a joke," Mitchell mutters. "He and his lizard buddies played keep away with Roberts' pinky for half a day once, just because Roberts vendored some broken gauntlets instead of giving them to Jani." Mitchell holds up his own hand, pinky finger extended for emphasis.

Thales lets out a disbelieving laugh. "He got it back, I hope?" When Mitchell nods, Thales cocks his head. "I…I thought your healers couldn't reattach things if they've been severed?"

"Well," Mitchell says slowly, "In most cases, they can't. In most cases, there's all those little blood vessels and nerves and whatnot that have to be lined up or…whatever. I don't know the details. Liila and Tizzle ranted to me about it a couple times, but I didn't pay attention."

"More important things to do?" Mevix says, and it is more a jibe than anything.

Mitchell rolls his eyes dramatically. "Always." He shakes his head, motioning vaguely with his hands in a way that makes him look even more arrogant than he sounds. "But anyway, with Roberts, it's not so bad, because he has less flesh than I do." Mitchell holds up his own skeletal hands for reference. Thales realizes a moment too late that he is not looking at rough nails at the end of Mitchell's fingers, but the bones themselves.

Whatever awkwardness might come from that realization, however, is muted as Kua rushes up with snacks for their guests. Koa and Kua are great for moving the conversation along, asking all the questions that Thales has drawn a blank on.

Mevix stands there, closer to Thales than anyone else, occasionally shifting a little awkwardly, and constantly glancing to Thales and then looking around, occasionally up into the air, and back.

Thales moves a bit closer to him, smiling when he realizes that, when he is closer, he can recognize the Maldraxxi's energy. It is a comforting familiarity, and he is tempted to close his eyes just to bask in it.

"Here I thought you'd be taller." When Thales arches a brow, Mevix motions to him. "You got promoted, didn't you?"

"It's not official yet," Thales says.

Mevix lets out a soft humph. "You are a skilled warrior Thales, and you learn damned fast. There a reason they're dragging their feet?"

Thales motions around them. "The temple's not even ready yet."

"Doesn't look half as bad as the Houses of Plagues or Eyes," Mitchell says with a shrug.

Mevix turns to him and shakes his head. His tone is a little flat when he speaks, "Aside from the crashed necropolis and plague clouds, the House of Plagues looks as it usually does."

Mitchell frowns, brow pinching together. "Really?"

Mevix lets out a disapproving grunt before looking back at Thales and motioning to Mitchell. "This one's hopeless."

Thales laughs, and notes the way Mevix' shoulders seem to relax, just a bit. "I'm afraid the comparison is lost on me. I never saw the House of Plagues. Or Eyes."

"You should come back by Maldraxxus some time," Mevix says. "I can give you a tour. I'm sure Vole would be thrilled to have you get a look at a 'proper' arena, too."

Thales snorts. "I'm sure he would."

The tension that has been hanging over them slowly bleeds out, as they talk about the different things that Thales was 'spared' seeing during his time in Maldraxxus. All light things, like most of the local flora and fauna in general or how Rencissa had tried to recruit a few aspirants into helping her decide which knuckledusters looked more intimidating—that attempt at comradery had not gone very well at all.

When the conversation lulls, Thales cannot help but tilt his head, appraising Mevix. "I meant to ask before. What brings you all the way to Bastion?"

"I'm assisting Bastion at the Primus' request," Mitchell says, ever full of that sell import. "And it was suggested I bring a trainee with me—"

Thales cannot help but snort again at that, nearly getting sweet juice in his nose as he sips. "I'm sorry?" He looks at Mevix. "You're a trainee now?"

Mevix shifts a little where he sits and then finally shrugs. "Someone's got to come and check on you from time to time. Make sure you're not going soft, just because the realm's so…pleasant."

The way he says that last word is like he's talking about something that is anything but.

Thales eyes him. "Well, I'd say I'm doing well enough."

Mevix simply grunts and nods.

When it is time for them to go, Thales forgets himself, and steps forward, pulling Mevix into a quick hug, barely managing to avoid all the spikes on his friend's armor. "It was good to see you, my friend."

Mevix goes rigid a second, but before Thales can worry that he has overstepped some boundary, a skeletal hand lightly pats his back. "And you."

Thales motions around them. "Perhaps the next time you're here, we can put this arena to use with a duel."

Though his features are skeletal, Thales is sure that Mevix is grinning at him when he nods, eyes flickering brighter as he says, "I'll look forward to it."


The handbell's chime sounds out, and neither Nikolon's nor Kosmas' feathers ruff at the sound.

There is a silence over their small group of forsworn and kyrian, ascended and aspirants and stewards.

Nikolon hesitates and then rings a few other handbells. Kosmas does the same, and together they create a gentle, weaving melody that fills the air around them.

Pelagos scans the crowd, looks for signs that anyone is suffering discomfort.

Others are looking around, too, and in everyone's eyes, there is a building hope.

The duo finish the song they've been playing and the final notes linger in the air a moment longer before finally falling silent.

Nikolon and Kosmas look around. Kosmas grins as Nikolon nods. "They work."

A cheer goes up around them.

"Bastion reunited!" cries a steward with silver feathers.

More cheers.

Adrestes stands near the edge of the group, arms crossed, though the traces of a rare smile tug the corners of his mouth up as he watches the revelry before him. Kleia and Nebi flank him. Adrestes pauses to give Nikolon and Kosmas a nod before turning to Nebi to see whatever report she has in hand. Kleia smiles warmly when she catches Pelagos' eye, and there is pride curling in her. Pride in Nikolon and Kosmas for their dedication and hard work. For their breakthrough.

She starts toward Pelagos, but pauses when someone calls her name. A worried aspirant hurries up to her, speaking quickly, though she is too far away for Pelagos to hear what is being said. Kliea gives him a sympathetic look, and he makes a gentle shooing motion as he nods to her, returning her smile.

Kleia is going to be the new Hand of the temple, and Pelagos can feel his own pride blooming inside of him. She is nervous, but he has assured her that he can think of no one better suited for the job. Adrestes has said as much, as well.

Nikolon, Kosmas, Kleia, Adrestes, Thales.

All of them are making such incredible strides forward. It is heartening to see the realm and its people moving forward again.

Everyone except…

Pelagos tries to push his own stall on the Path from mind. It feels selfish to think of himself when his friends are accomplishing so much. But a small part of him still whispers that he is, now more than ever before, falling behind. The Path is meant to be walked at one's own pace, but he knows he is taking longer than most. And while some have suggested he may not need to give up his final few memories of his life, somehow that feels like…

Cheating isn't the right word, but he can't think of a better one, either.

As the crowd disperses, Pelagos moves to join Kosmas and Nikolon, assisting them with putting away their instruments.

When he tries to think of something other than himself, his mind almost immediately goes to Korthia, and by extension, the Maw. He has visited that awful place so many times now, yet no matter how much he steels himself, he is always overwhelmed by how wicked and cruel that realm is.

To think that there are so many still trapped in that miserable place…

"I wonder if we could make some of these for the Maw," Pelagos says aloud. When Nikolon doesn't reply, he looks up to see that his soulmate is watching him, surprised. "What?"

"You want to make bells to send…to the Maw?"

"There are still many souls trapped there who should not be," Kosmas reckons, shrugging as he carefully packs away their handbells.

He is well meaning, but his words are such an understatement.

Nikolon wraps soft cloth around another bell as he considers it. "We would need something stronger than these for a place like that." He grimaces, remembering his own imprisonment there. "The very air leeches at everything, so something this simple would likely degrade too quickly to offer any solace."

"And I'd hate to hear one of the larger vespers after it gets corrupted," Kosmas says. "It might take a while, but after it fell, it would be…"

"Grating," Nikolon says, his tone saying that he has a good idea of just how miserable it would sound.

Their words are true enough. Pelagos has felt that sapping power that the Maw has over any who enter it. He has seen how it starts to wear down feathers and bodies of those who stay too long.

That is what finally spurred Lysonia to leave the Maw, to come and face her judgment beyond its hateful borders. She was not under Helya's influence, but at the same time, by the end of her stay there she had looked so…rough. Pelagos had left the Maw with her by coincidence, and had seen the ascended who had been stationed in Oribos and waiting for her to come out descend. Lysonia had gripped her spear tightly a moment, wings tensing, like she might run or fight.

And then she had set her spear on the ground and pulled a sealed envelope from her tunic. She had handed it off to Pelagos subtly as she stood back up, before the ascended could usher him back.

It had been addressed to Eridia, and while Pelagos hadn't been sure, he had taken it to her.

He can still see the way Eridia's expression had gone from pleasant to masked as she had seen her name written on that paper and recognized the handwriting immediately. If she opened the letter, it was long after Pelagos had left.

Shaking off the question of whether he hopes there can be something salvaged between the two or not, he looks back at Nikolon and Kosmas, feeling helpless as he thinks of the Maw and all who are still trapped inside.

"I'm not sure anyone deserves that place," Pelagos says before he can stop himself. Both Nikolon and Kosmas seem surprised, again. "I mean, imagine. Most mortal lives are so fleeting. To be damned to eternity for actions done in so short a time…"

"Some of the races live quite a long time," Nikolon says, offhandedly.

Pelagos' brow pinches. "Whatever the length of their mortal life, it is still a fraction of how long they spend suffering."

"Those who are redeemable go to Revendreth," Kosmas reminds him.

Pelagos cannot help but frown. That is the same thing that Kleia has told him when he's brought it up. He feels like he is talking to a wall.

Perhaps it is not his place to ponder such things, but he can't help it. He wishes he had Liila to talk to. She was more open to things like this. Like when she found Pelagos with Nikolon and didn't think twice about helping. Or when she decided to try to save those under Helya's curse. She has sought things beyond the scope of what has been accepted as limitations in the Shadowlands. When he had been healing her, he had made sure not to talk too much about the Maw, and so he had kept most of his thoughts to himself, but now…

Now he's not allowed to even see Liila. From what he can gather, the concern is based on the fact that it could very well have been him who was dragged to the mortal realm with her. Ascended, as Kleia has explained it, can pull themselves back through the Veil, or simply prevent Liila from slipping through it at all. Aspirants cannot, so they would be taken along for whatever mischief Liila might get into.

"How is Liila doing?" Pelagos asks as they finish up with their supplies and take them over to the small workstation the two have borrowed for their trials here in Loyalty.

"Aspirant Embrosia is doing well enough," Kosmas says, correcting the name reflexively. "She gave herself quite the setback, but it will still only be a matter of months before she's up and about like a regular aspirant. We may need to wait longer for any cleansings—" He pauses when he notices Nikolon's demeanor turn sour. "Her nightmares are horrific, Nik, and they're based on memories. Traumas. Trust me when I say you would agree to cleansing these."

"They're the sort of thing we purge after a bad bearing run?"

Kosmas nods. At that Nikolon winces. He shakes his head and then looks at Pelagos, reaching out and lightly brushing his fingers along his jaw. "I am sorry your friend suffers."

"She could be your friend, too," Pelagos says. He cannot help but smile at the way Nikolon eyes him, like he thinks Pelagos has caught the wrong part of his comment.

"I think she could use a role model like you," Kosmas agrees, hands on his hips as he appraises their work, all of it fitting so neatly into two long boxes. When he notices Nikolon does not seem to approve of the idea, he shrugs. "Nearly everyone in Purity agrees that if Embrosia had come to us even a little earlier, she likely would have ended up forsworn." When he notices Pelagos' surprise, he hesitates and then sighs. "The bad memories are such that she clings to the good so fiercely that we never would have convinced her to give them up, even for a greater good."

"So she's lucky the Path is changing," Pelagos surmises. When both Nikolon and Kosmas nod, he cannot help but imagine Liila with black hair and gray skin, her eyes barely glowing at all. If that had happened before the Arbiter's slumber, she would have been sent away, to another realm.

He is glad that the Path is changing. And maybe, if someone like Liila, like Embrosia can keep some of her memories, then it would not be such a shortcoming for him to keep some of his.


"Olyssion is going to be allowed to re-walk the Path," Adrestes says. He sits on the edge of the platform, overlooking Purity. He is dressed more plainly than usual, and when Liila first woke up, she almost mistook him for a regular disciple of the temple, as his back was to her.

However, that ethereal tug is so strong these days, and it only took a second for her to realize who he was, and then to recognize the cut of his hair and curve of his ears and neck, the breadth of his wings.

She has come to sit next to him, now, to look down on the view that has been taunting her for almost two weeks. Her confinement here is somehow worse than it was in the Spires. Perhaps it is because she can actually see the world below clearly. Perhaps it is because she knows if she wanted she could jump down, hope for an unsuspecting disciple to catch her and take her the rest of the way. Or ride one of those impossibly long, sheer banners to the ground. She's fairly certain that she could reach the nearest one with a good jump.

Or perhaps it is because she knows giving in to such temptations could mean her permanent exile from the realm.

She must behave, after all.

She must submit to another's will or suffer the consequences for all of eternity.

It is maddening, made worse by all the kind words offered to her so often. Her feet itch, and she feels like soon she will wear lines across her platform from all of her pacing.

This is only the second time Adrestes has come to see her since her imprisonment in Purity. The first time, he was barely there long enough to see that she is on the mend before heading back to Loyalty—or rather, Devotion, as it has become. He had merely been by to tell her why he wouldn't be by, because there were so many preparations to handle before he becomes paragon. Like shifting the temple. Liila's not quite sure what all was needed for them to swap a name, but apparently there is more to it than that, though no one has really explained it to her.

It has made her somewhat miserable to realize that when he is a paragon, he will be all but bound to Devotion, while she is bound here. And even when she is finally unleashed upon the realm, even if she goes to his temple, he will not have much time for her, for them.

If she had not gone on her 'little adventure', as Eridia calls it, then perhaps they could have spent more time together…

Though, it's not as though she could have helped with Devotion or anything of that nature. After all, if she hadn't left, she would still be stranded in the Spires, unable to show her face lest she expose the truth of her existence to all.

She still thinks that, over all, what she did was for the best, but it has already had very grave consequences.

Threats from gods and aches aside, Adrestes is upset with her.

He has not said as much, but she knows it.

She knows it with the way he sits now, not looking at her, his voice detached as he talks about the fates of the higher ranking forsworn.

Most have been given two options: give up their wings and walk the Path anew, or go to Revendreth and atone there.

Devos and Lysonia are not getting a choice.

From what she's heard, both have already arrived safely in Revendreth. Eridia has been absent the last two days, as she is in mourning. Her soulbinding to Lysonia was undone so that she will not have to feel the echoes of what Lysonia will go through there. Thenios' binding has likewise been broken from Devos'.

While their bindings were undone gently, Liila can only imagine the emptiness they must feel now after sharing their souls with another for eons upon eons, made worse with the knowledge that their soulmates, the loves of their lives, are atoning via Revendreth's harsh methods.

"Andromede has gone to Revendreth," Adrestes says, voice still so…distant. "Klotos, too. I don't know if you ever met him, but aside from Uther and Lysonia, he was one of Devos' most trusted followers. Lakesis, Astronos, and Uther are going to re-walk the Path. We're going to stagger it, so that they're not all at one temple at once. Astronos is going to stay with me, Uther will come back here, and Lakesis is going to Humility. Olyssion will go to Courage."

He is rattling off more names when Liila finally reaches out and rests her hand on his.

He falls silent then, gaze turning down to look at where she has touched him, expression impossible to read. For a moment, she thinks he may pull away. He lifts his arm up, begins to turn it, to pull it from her, and so she withdraws herself, letting her gaze drop.

"I'm sorry that I worried you."

"Worry is one thing," he says, and for a moment his face twists, emotions shifting far too quickly for her to catch anything other than anger and grief.

Her voice almost fails her as she corrects herself, "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"With all your stories, I should have seen it coming," he says, shaking his head. When she flinches at that, he finally looks at her.

"I—"

"Not that you would hurt me," he offers, voice quieter, gentler. "That you would be so willing to hurt yourself." He is quiet for a painfully long moment before he finally turns his hand so that his palm is up and open, waiting. She hesitates for a second before reaching out and resting her hand in his. That pleasant thrum of energy is there between them as they lace their fingers, a soothing balm on nerves, though it does not quite banish the anxiousness curling in her. She wonders if it is enough to put him at ease, either.

If she had to guess, she would say no.

He squeezes her hand gently. "You are so used to that being part of your strategy. You let yourself take the damage time and time again because you knew it was expected of you, and you knew you would get back up. And now…it will be a hard habit to break."

"I won't do anything like that again," Liila says, shifting so that she can meet his gaze more readily. "I swear, I—"

He presses a finger to her lips. "Don't tell me. Show me."

When she presses a quick kiss to his finger, he allows himself a fleeting smile. It is gone too quickly.

They sit in silence for a little while before Liila finally dares to lean against him. He pauses before draping his wing over her. His feathers are soft to the touch, and rest over her like a downy blanket. She runs her fingers over them, through them.

"So why Devotion?"

"What?" he asks, drawing from his thoughts and peering down at her as she lifts her head to look back.

"Why change Loyalty to Devotion?"

"Our loyalty became a blind sort of thing," Adrestes says. He motions to himself with his free hand. "On our side, we followed the Path without question, even when it caused harm. Even when it damned souls, and by extension, the Shadowlands." His hand falls to rest on his thigh. "As for Devos', she threw her trust to the first person who would listen to her, let herself get caught up in heinous atrocities because she was so sure that something must be done, so loyal to her cause." He shakes his head. "Loyalty can be good, but we let those lines blur and came out on the wrong side of it."

"Devotion can be blind, too," Liila says softly, before she can stop herself.

"Like yours to Haa'aji?" Adrestes asks. When she looks up at him, surprised, he merely returns her gaze with a steady one. "We are aware, but we felt that perhaps starting with something new would help us to move forward. Devotion, coupled with compassion for our charges instead of simple focus on our sacred role."

"Does this mean you won't be gripping people by their necks anymore?"

He lets out a dry laugh. "I don't know if we'll go that far. You'd be surprised the number of souls who bite. Or claw. Or kick."

"Fair enough," Liila says. "If you ask Astronos, I tried to kick him once myself."

For just a second, there is the slightest upturn to his lips. "How well did that go?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Liila says, shaking her head. "I was a very angry handbag, and honestly, not being able to reach him just made it worse."

At that, he lifts his arm, still holding her hand, and loops it around her, tugging her flush to his side. He shifts and kisses the crown of her head. Liila snuggles a little closer.

"We're still working on the tenets of Devotion," Adrestes says. "But we will include fail safes so that it does not go the way Loyalty did." This time, when he talks, he does not sound quite so mechanical.

It is such a relief.

"Are you excited to become a paragon?" Liila asks.

Adrestes frowns, looking away toward the rest of the temple. No, looking beyond it, to where his future awaits. Devotion. "I do not think I am worthy, but I will do all that I can."

"I can't think of anyone better suited for it," Liila offers, fingers curling gently in his feathers.

"You know very few people in the realm," Adrestes replies.

At that, Liila scoffs. "I know the best people in the realm."

He arches a single brow. "And how can you know that when there are so many you've yet to meet?"

"Because the Archon would not have chosen you if you were not the best." Liila watches him for his reaction before adding, "Or do you suddenly doubt her choices?"

Adrestes shakes his head. "I have never doubted the Archon."

"Then you must not doubt her faith in you, either," Liila says, kissing his wing gently.

"Well played, my love."

Warmth pools inside of Liila as she leans against him, and she prays to the Archon and whatever else is out there, that that is a title she can be worthy of.

Time will tell.


The ceremony appointing Adrestes to paragon and creating a new sigil is beautiful. Liila cannot help the quiet pride that swells in her when she watches her soulmate take his place among the paragons, when she sees the way, after he has been appointed, he looks at her and offers a quick, quiet smile before he finds himself drawn into conversation with Thenios.

Whatever the senior paragon says, it makes Adrestes' smile widen. Those genuine grins are so rare.

Liila finds herself unable to bask in his radiance, however, as her attention is quickly drawn away once the ceremony winds down and everyone shifts into smaller groups.

Just like when she first showed up with Eridia and was 'allowed' to go mingle with the others assembling for the main event, she finds herself constantly getting tugged into quick conversations by so many familiar faces, all glad to know that she is still around and well enough to make an appearance in public.

She finds herself wrapped in dozens of hugs as the evening progresses. It is impossible to catch up with everyone, and most of the kyrian she knows are content to give her time with her mortal friends.

While Liila is puzzled by this at first, Pallessa gently assures her that she does not mind picking up their conversation later when Topher comes over to greet her, saying, "We have you forever. Who knows how long they'll be able to talk to you?"

It is true enough, and it is a fact that hurts, one that she has tried not to dwell on too much during her recovery. Most souls, after all, die and are faced with the absence of their connections from life, but it is a quick, clean break from the past.

For her, so many have come by the Temple of Purity. Most times, she just sees them far below, hurrying along on some task for the realm, just out of reach. Other times—few as these have been—they find a way up to her to sit with her for a while and when they go, she cannot help but wonder if that is the last time she will ever see them. It has been so many uncertain goodbyes these last few weeks.

The mourning process is so much harder when it is continuously interrupted with those hopeful encounters, and there is no telling when those precious moments will finally come to a close.

Either when the Veil is closed or the Jailer remakes reality, she supposes.

She almost wishes she had a set timeline, so that she could know. So that she could prepare.

Beyond her limbo, however, she has noticed that her mortal friends seem worried for her this evening. Every conversation about what her future holds is laced with an undercurrent of anxiousness on their parts, though at first none of them will speak up about what has them so concerned.

Slowly, the pieces come together.

She received the first letter shortly after arriving at the ceremony, from a steward who disappeared just as quickly as they came.

You've been a good pal to your old friend, Bwonsamdi. If things go awry, I've got you, Dragonlily.

At first, she's a bit confused as to what it is he's got her for, but the second note makes things a little clearer.

Again, she cannot say who it is that hands it to her, but somehow she finds herself reaching for a glass of juice and instead finds a small note in her hand.

Should the Archon make you take that final plunge, you will always have a place with me, my partner. Until our final flame flickers out.

It is not signed, but Liila recognizes the simple shrewdness of Ve'nari's handwriting.

The real question is how the letter even got here, considering Liila knows damned well that Ve'nari will not be leaving the Maw anytime soon.

However, as she looks at that note, reading it over a second time before tucking it away in her tunic with the first, realization dawns on her.

The Archon warned her that she would be cast from the realm if she steps out of line.

If that is what Ve'nari is talking about, then it makes sense that she would offer a haven with her in the Maw.

And it would make sense that Bwonsamdi would be willing to save her from that 'final plunge'.

It would seem that word of her and the Archon's conversation has spread—how she can't say—and that a couple people have taken it upon themselves to make sure that Liila knows she will be safe, should she be exiled from Bastion.

The third note she receives is in calligraphy, though it is Lash's sabercat, Duskeh, who brings it to her, disguising the action as a search for ear scritches.

I suppose it should have been obvious, with how well you held your tongue about my 'death' that yours would be just as much of a ruse. If Bastion proves not to suit you, Maw Walker, Stone has said you may find haven here.

I am glad to know you are still among us,

Fearstalker

Lash gives her a wink before goading Blood into telling a story about his recent misadventures in Korthia that has everyone laughing, while Thales gives her a suspicious look. He has been watching her, it turns out, and he warns her that Eridia knows she's up to something as well, despite Liila's assurances that she is not.

The a fourth message is not a note at all.

After the guests of Bastion have finally begun to head off, with ascended offering their wings to those without before they quietly take their leave, Whisper and Shadow come over to check on Liila.

Whisper lightly takes her hand and leads her to a relatively empty corner of the Seat of the Archon. Liila can feel Eridia's gaze on her as it has been all night, keeping track of her as though she might actually try to run off with someone, but she ignores it, instead focusing on her friends. After all, she knows she's not going to make a scene or flee the realm, so let Eridia watch.

When they are as alone as they can be, Whisper leans in—it is strange to be eye level with a tauren now, but it does help with whispered secrets.

"We heard about the Archon's ultimatum," Whisper says, voice low. Shadow loops an arm around Liila's shoulder and hugs her quickly as Whisper continues. "You don't have to stress about it, though, okay? We talked to Lady Moonberry, and she said that if things don't work out here, the Winter Queen would happily welcome you to Ardenweald."

Shadow nods. "The Winter Queen said she would talk to the Archon, so that she knows, if it comes to that, her ascended don't need to just drop you off in Oribos, since we all know where that route—"

"Hold it right there!" Mitchell yells from across the way, interrupting not only theirs, but damned near every conversation still going. Only a handful of people beside the Archon, paragons and Hands remain.

All eyes are on Mitchell as he stomps over to join Liila and the others. Whisper massages her temples and tells him to shut up as Mitchell promptly points accusingly at them. "You better not be trying to poach Liila." He glares at each of the tauren before turning his attention to her. "So you know, the Primus already claimed you. He said you can come to Maldraxxus when you get kicked out of Bastion."

It is…oddly comforting to know that so many of her friends are still willing to come to her aid, even if she is no longer among the living. To think that they have been finding places for her, in the event that Liila cannot fulfill her oath to the Archon…

Though, it's a bit annoying that Mitchell is talking as though her failure is inevitable. At least the others had the courtesy to use 'if'.

And a bit of subtlety.

As it is, the Archon and everyone else is now watching her and the scene she had very much hoped not to make during the event.

Mitchell motions to her, either oblivious or unconcerned with the fact that he's making plans for Liila's 'next' afterlife right in front of the ruler of her current one. "Vole's still up for soulbinding with you, even if you are Alterac swiss. And Marileth says it will be nice to have his apprentice come home." Mitchell shrugs. "After all, seeing how good you are with alchemy, you'd obviously join the House of Plagues and…"

Liila knows she should probably stop him from talking, but something else has caught her attention, and it nettles at her mind. She has found a few holes in her memories while talking with Kosmas and Eridia, a few signs that she has been affected more profoundly by her brush with true death than she had originally thought.

"The Primus is back?" She interrupts as he details the sort of things she can expect when she arrives in Maldraxxus as a more permanent resident, frowning. "Did I know that already? Or did that just happen?"

At that, Mitchell's eyes widen, and he perks up, even as Adrestes quietly saunters over to join them. The forsaken grins. "You remember the giant old man we adopted in Torghast? The one everyone kept warning us might be 'supposed' to be there?"

Liila's brow pinches. Her memories of Torghast are a little fuzzy—thankfully—but she is relieved that she does know who he's talking about. "The Runecarver?"

"It turns out that was the Primus!" Mitchell exclaims, throwing his arms out. "We made knee pillows for the god of warcraft!"

In the background, Liila hears Thanikos whisper loudly that that's what all the feathers were for to Voitha.

"You mean we knew the Primus all this time?" As Mitchell nods, Liila furrows her brow. "Does that mean he got his memories back? And that you found a way to break his chains?"

At that, Mitchell takes in a slow breath that screeches as it goes over his vocal cords. "Yeeeeaaaaah…. About that—"

"Before you go into that whole debacle," Adrestes interrupts, kneeling so that he can join their little group. He frowns at the way Mitchell whirls toward him and then hisses something under his breath about him being as stealthy as a fel reaver. "What is this about the Primus claiming a soul that has already found her home in Bastion?"

Mitchell has already taken a quick step back from Adrestes, and he stands beside Liila, appraising the paragon and then realizing that he has captured everyone's attention, including that of the Archon herself, who watches him with an unreadable expression. He seems to debate something a second before standing a little straighter. "Look, we all know Liila's gonna last like a month here—"

"That is not true," Whisper and Shadow say in unison, each of them patting one of Liila's shoulders.

"My money's on her lasting at least twice that long," calls Carroll, to which several mortals mutter variations of 'Fuck off, Carroll.'

Mitchell ignores them, still talking. "And if she's not welcome here, and there's no Arbiter to send her off to whatever realm you all usually hide your shame in, where will she go?" Mitchell shrugs his shoulders out and motions around vaguely. "No one wants to see Liila cast into the Maw. So the Primus said she could come to Maldraxxus. He says she'd hardly be the first of your cast offs to come to his realm."

The Archon cocks her head. "Is that so?"

Mitchell nods, then perks up and looks at Liila. "Actually, we know a few. I don't know if you ever met Enceladus, but also Mev—"

"I will have to have a word with my brother," the Archon interrupts him. She fixes him with a stern look that successfully makes him fall silent. "However, rest assured, Aspirant Embrosia is not going anywhere any time soon."

With a frown, Mitchell looks back at Liila. "They renamed you?"

Liila tries not to smile. "That's what you got from that, huh?"

"Haa'aji is gonna lose his shit."

Neither Liila nor any other mortal present can argue against that. She can already see him throwing things in his room as he rants to Zen'taki about 'flappy bastards' overstepping.

Wren sidles up to them then, skirting Adrestes and offering him a quick bow, before angling himself just barely between him and Mitchell. However, he addresses the Archon herself. "If it helps, the Primus didn't say any of that until after Mitchell had a panic attack about trying to fish Liila out of the Maw should she—"

"When she," Mitchell corrects, only to hiss as Whisper thwacks the back of his head.

"—fall from your grace."

"You should have more faith in your friend," the Archon says.

"You've known Liila like fifteen minutes," Mitchell argues. "I've known her fifteen years. And anyway, she can never be an ascended." As the Archon cocks her head, Mitchell looks knowingly at Liila. "You've got that deal with Bwonsamdi for a million souls. Being someone in charge of ferrying what you owe a death god would be a terrible idea."

The Seat of the Archon falls into utter silence. The kyrian seem horrified, the Archon's brow pinches, and Liila stares, unblinking at Mitchell, as she wonders how he came up with that number.

And then it hits her.

"Mitch, you made that deal with Bwonsamdi, too."

"Duh. A bunch of us did."

Liila stares at him, hard. "You know he started with an absurdly high number so that even when we bartered it down, he would still get more than he deserved, right?"

Mitchell is ready to say something else, but stops. He blinks. Once. Twice. "Wait, what?"

"It is physically impossible for a mortal of any race to send Bwonsamdi a million souls in their lifetime," Liila says. "You will have rotted away to bone dust before putting a significant dent in that million."

"But—" Mitchell frowns as he takes the time to do the math in his head.

While he works it out, Adrestes turns toward Liila. "How many souls do you owe?"

"None, my debt was forgiven."

His head tilts slightly, like he might not quite believe her.

Liila chooses not to go into all the details surrounding the rat souls and mawrats, instead saying, "When the Veil was breached, he altered the terms of our agreement to ensure I would assist with the initial assault. The last time I spoke with him, he told me we were square."

In truth, he had found out her plan to bring him thousands of mawrats and had told her that she'd done more than enough as it was.

She had made sure he put that in writing.

Before she can say anything else, Mitchell finally gives up on his calculations, scowling. "Whatever, I'll deal with that later. The important thing is, when the Archon punts you from the realm, you're not going back to the Maw."

"We would never send her to the Maw," Adrestes snaps.

Mitchell crosses his arms. He motions to himself and then Shadow and Whisper and the other mortals still remaining. Liila is fairly certain that the sweep of his hands pauses on her, too. "And how were we supposed to know that? Considering how many 'good' people have already been fished out of the Maw because your lot dropped them in there in the first place, why would Liila be any different when she fails to meet your standards?"

Before anyone can answer him, magic swirls around Mitchell in a brilliant burst of light. As it fades, a sheep stands where Mitchell was. Magic dims around Carroll's fingertips as Wren sighs and hoists the sheep up into his arms. "On that note, I suppose we should head out." He pauses, nodding respectfully to the Archon and then Adrestes. "It was an honor to be here."

Carroll makes a portal to Oribos, and Wren does not hesitate to see if he is being given permission to use it, instead hurrying through as Mitchell bleats angrily at him, already chewing on the sleeve of his robe.

The other mortals say a few quick farewells before either filing through the portal offered or taking an anima gateway back to Elysian Hold.

Inaar is the last to leave, and as she stands before the gateway, she looks back at Liila and gives her a thumbs up. "I put my gold on you staying here forever!"

And then the anima swirls around her, and she is gone.

When Liila glances back, she sees that she is left with the Archon, paragons, and Hands.

Every authority figure in the realm.

Lovely.

"So long as you ignore that last bit, things went very well today," Liila offers.

Adrestes' smile is crooked. "I suppose that's true enough." He reaches out and catches her chin with a finger, and that thrum of energy between them feels stronger than it has before, almost as though it is a physical tie connecting them.

She idly wonders if that is because he is a paragon now.

"Don't keep my aspirant too long," Vesiphone calls to Adrestes, a teasing smile in place before she disappears in a flurry of anima. The other paragons have left. The hands take to the sky, offering parting congratulations to Adrestes before heading back to their temples.

When it is just them and the Archon left, she alights beside Adrestes, appraising Liila with care. "You know I would not send you to the Maw, yes?"

"I hadn't really thought of where I'd go," Liila replies. "Before now, anyway."

The Archon seems to consider it a moment before saying, "You have options, it seems." Even as Liila wonders if the Archon knows about her notes, the god continues. "Tal-Inara assured me just recently that if you must leave the realm, the attendants will keep you in Oribos until such a time as your soul can be properly re-judged." She inspects Liila for her reaction and adds, "Not that I think it will ever come down to that. From what I understand, you are good at keeping your word."

She does not give Liila a chance to reply before fading out herself.

By the time Liila realizes that she and Adrestes are the only ones left, he has shifted to his aspirant form. She's a little surprised he isn't taller in this form too, now that he's a paragon.

He reaches out, brushing some of her hair back. "It seems every realm is happy to claim you. Howl told me that Prince Renathal has offered you a place to await a proper judgment, as well, should something unfortunate happen."

Liila arches her brow, unable to help but smile as his hands come to rest on her waist, gently tugging her closer. "Is that so?"

With a nod, he brushes a kiss to her lips. "Tell me, Dragonlily. What's it like having so many options for your afterlife?"

"As far as I'm concerned, Bastion is my only option," Liila says, draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning forward to catch his lips with hers when draws back. "It's the only place with you in it."

Adrestes' smile is radiant. "I'm glad to hear that." He kisses her long and slow before leaning his forehead against hers. "I have faith in you, you know."

She is surprised by how reassuring those words are. They are not like the ones offered by Eridia or Kosmas or even the Archon. They are…more, and it helps to sooth something that has been ill at ease since she made her oath to the Archon.

"Thank you, Adrestes."

"So tell me, how many gods have you made deals with?"

"Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?"

His laugh is something she looks forward to hearing for the rest of her existence.


A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my pomeranian, Ardra, the Queen Floof, who we had to put down just recently. May she be loved on that side of the Veil as much as she is loved on this side.