Two days after Adrestes' ascension to paragon, Aspirant Embrosia has her first major lapse.

She is sitting with Disciple Helene, reading over some scrolls that detail different cultural significances within Bastion when it happens.

One moment, she is quietly reading, occasionally asking Helene a question or two about what the texts say.

The next, she drops the scroll as panic overtakes her because she does not know why her skin is blue or why her ears are gone.

Helene's first attempt to settle her merely adds fuel to the fire when she calls her Aspirant Embrosia. As her charge recoils from her, she tries other names, seeking to calm her down before she can get too panicked and start lashing out.

However, nothing she can think to say will calm her charge's nerves.

Liila, Dragonlily, Maw Walker, High Priestess. By the time she reaches that last title, she is grasping for anything she can think of to calm her.

Each of Helene's attempts is met with increasing agitation.

After the second, she catches another disciple's attention and sends them off to get help.

Vesiphone arrives as Helene asks, "Perhaps if you tell me who you are, I can help settle any confusion."

Aspirant Embrosia merely shakes her head, bewildered and wild-eyed, keeping distance between herself and the disciple, as though she thinks that if she allows Helene to get too close, she will be hurt.

"Please just let me go home," she whispers. "We can't stop you, so what does it matter where I am? Let me die with my family. Please just let me—"

"Amaeria?" Vesiphone asks softly, and her charge's gaze snaps to her.

Her brow pinches together. The panic stalls as the wheels turn in her head.

After a moment, she nods, a little unsure. "I think…do I know you?"

Vesiphone dismisses Helene with a look and then settles down, sitting so that Embrosia can come over to her, if she so chooses. "Well, I don't believe we've met, but I know of you. A kind, dedicated soul who has done so much good for her people," she says, gentle smile in place, tone soft and soothing. "Would you like to sit with me for a while?"

"What's wrong with me?"

"You were injured by a very cruel creature," Vesiphone says, keeping the details vague so that Embrosia can fill them in herself as her mind is able. "You were brought to me to be mended. Do you remember?"

The aspirant shakes her head. She stands there, glancing around, surprised and cautiously relieved, seemingly taking in the temple for the first time. "It's pretty here."

"I try to keep it that way," Vesiphone says, smiling. "Are you hungry? Tired? You need not fear harm while you are here."

Embrosia doesn't sit down, doesn't come closer. Instead, she looks around, like she expects the sparkle of the waterfalls to fade or something wicked to start creeping into her vision. Her brow pinches together and she turns a little, never enough for Vesiphone to be completely out of her sight. It is as though she does not trust that Vesiphone will still be there.

Or that she thinks Vesiphone is some trick, herself.

"How did I escape?" The words are shaky.

Vesiphone considers what to say a moment before finally replying, "I'm afraid you didn't."

The gaze that snaps back to her is brimming with that earlier panic.

"You have heard of spirit healers, yes? Perhaps read stories of people who saw winged creatures in moments of death before coming back? Sometimes we tend to those who do not come back."

Embrosia is quiet a moment, gaze flickering as she tries to go over her memories. She winces, and Vesiphone starts to offer a hand out to her.

She is already out of reach, but she takes a few more steps back, eyeing Vesiphone. "There was someone like that." If she is remembering her death, as she seems to be, that is a good sign. Vesiphone can walk her back to the present, even if it takes time. After all, they have eternity. Embrosia glances around again, searching for something. Something she doesn't want to see, if her body language is any indication. "He stood with me. And then…" she winces. The memory is either not fully there, or jumbled with others.

Vesiphone has seen this sort of thing before, to an extent. She has seen aspirants in the middle of their cleansings who find memories half forgotten already or get caught up in the holes that have been left behind. They usually try not to have them forget their mortal lives until they have at least as many years in death. It makes the emptiness in the mind less daunting.

But this soul—Embrosia, Liila, Amaeria, the name is irrelevant at the moment—has already lost so many memories. She has too many holes, too many voids, and with her memories shifting as her soul settles, Vesiphone has worried something like this might happen.

It will pass.

Her mind has just gotten caught up on a memory that does not easily connect to any others, so it is having trouble drawing the connections it needs to fill in blanks that have already been filled.

It is always better if the one getting confused can be walked back to their present, or if they can find their way back on their own, and so Vesiphone tries to feel for how they might do that, though if this is an isolated memory, it's hard to predict where her mind may go and what jumps it may make.

However, Vesiphone does know that Adrestes was the one to ferry Embrosia, back when she was Amaeria, so she decides to focus on that. If she can lead her through memories of Adrestes, it will be a gentle return to the present.

"Perhaps I know the one who stood with you?" she offers.

Her charge snaps from her thoughts, looking at Vesiphone wide-eyed a moment before shifting awkwardly on her feet. "He didn't smile, but I don't think he was cruel." She pauses, a distant, almost serene look on her face. "No… I know he wasn't. He's very kind."

Vesiphone tilts her head, nods thoughtfully. She lets her talk on, slowly at first.

"He was so very tall, and he spoke to me… He said…" The furrow in her brow deepens as she struggles to remember. "He said, 'If they are not here, there is a chance for them.'" She nods a little at that, eyes moving as she searches her memory, struggles to piece it back together. "They might have made it home."

"I hope they did," Vesiphone says.

Embrosia is not listening to her, though. Instead, her brow dips lower still. "I'm not supposed to worry about them anymore. Because I'm dead."

Vesiphone starts to nod, but stops herself, considering what her charge has said. "I suppose it is a rather cruel thing to say, isn't it? To not worry about the ones you love. In the end, we always do."

"I didn't know them," Embrosia says. Some of the tension flees her shoulders then, and she lets herself slump down, still far enough away that Vesiphone cannot reach her. "They were just trapped like I was." She looks like she may cry. "I knew I wouldn't make it home, but maybe they could. Maybe they did."

The name Embrosia is on the tip of Vesiphone's tongue as she catches herself, instead watching the desolate soul before her a moment before saying, "Amaeria."

She rubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand, tries to tuck her hair back behind her ear and then shudders when her fingers brush against the rounded shell instead of the long point that should be there.

She stares at her hands.

That line between her brows returns, this time in confusion. "I don't remember this."

"What don't you remember?"

"Becoming…this." She curls her fingers toward her palms slowly and looks around. That fear is back. When she looks at Vesiphone, it is as though she is trying to hide that very fear, trying to walk a line that only she can see. "I would like to go home."

Vesiphone tries to read her. With fear comes so many dangerous reactions, and she does not want to trigger anything that will cause Embrosia further distress. "Amaeria, I am afraid you are in no condition to travel anywhere right now—"

"You're with him, aren't you?" There are tears now, welling in the corners of her eyes, though she fights them. Before Vesiphone can ask who she means, Embrosia shakes her head, standing back up. "You're one of those winged things that binds the souls to their corpses."

When Vesiphone tries to assure her she is not, she takes another step back, face twisting with contempt. "This isn't real. I know he does this. I know he makes people think they can get away when they can't." She looks around, shaking her head, like she can already see the color bleeding out of the world. "I never got away. There are no golden fields or ponds. No one stood with me. This isn't real. I won't…let you trick me."

She is backing up again, looking around with a growing fury. "Is this how you get them to do what you want? You trap them in these pretty dreams so that they can't fight what you tell them to do? What you make them do?"

She picks up a scroll and stares down at it. And then her face twists with rage, and she tears it in half.

"Amaeria. Stop."

"You don't know me," she says, venom in her words as she throws the pieces of the scroll away. "You can't make me your puppet! I won't let you! I won't hurt people for you!" She is looking around for something.

For a weapon.

"You or him."

She grabs a vase, tossing the flowers from it and shattering it at her feet. As she reaches for the larger pieces, Vesiphone rises to her feet.

"I mean you no harm."

Embrosia's fingers curl so tightly around the shard she's ttken that blood drips from them. She is shaking her head as she wields it, a wild look in her eyes. "I won't hurt people for you."

And then, even as Vesiphone tries to calm her down, she moves to slit her own throat.

One of the many benefits to being a paragon is that one can move very quickly, when needed. Vesiphone reaches her before she can harm herrself, her own fingers getting between the sharp edge and her charge's skin.

With a word that rings out around them like one of her vespers, Embrosia crumples into unconsciousness.

Vesiphone catches her and casts a quick mend, healing both of their hands. As her fingertips brush her aspirant's forehead, she can see the memory that she got caught in.

Amaeria's second death.

The one where she slit her own throat to get away from her tormentor and the twisted things he was trying to force her to do, only for her curse to trigger for the first time and bring her back, gasping for life, throat still slit.

Vesiphone jerks her hand away, despite herself, when she sees Embrosia's monster kneeling beside her, utter glee in his rotted face as the confusion fades to horror.

The moment when Amaeria realized that her freedom was truly gone. Even if she could resist causing harm to others, even if she could fight him back for now, she could not escape him. The open door was a trick, and so was death.

She was trapped.

She was trapped, and it was only a matter of time until he wore her down to the point that she would do his bidding, like a good little husk.

A part of Vesiphone greatly wants to pull the memory from her charge, to 'forget' to file it away with the other memories already given up and let it fall away to nothing, where it can never hurt Embrosia or anyone else again.

But a memory can never be taken without the owner's consent.

Even if she thinks—even if she knows that taking it away would be a mercy.

There are so many wicked recollections sleeping within Embrosia's mind, waiting to resurface, once the ones that currently haunt her can be cleansed.

Tracing the cobbled memories from just before, Vesiphone can see that this one was stirred by a sense that things were too calm, too safe, an anxiety that has been building inside of her for weeks.

They should have caught this before it got to this point, but they have not been looking at her memories so much as they have been working on mending the fractures to her soul.

This is a failing on their part, on Vesiphone's part as a healer and guardian and paragon.

No one should be afraid of safety.

It is with quiet trepidation that Vesiphone checks the rest of Embrosia's memories, quickly, to make sure that this sudden shift has not damaged anything.

Embrosia—Liila is still very much there, and Vesiphone is both relieved and a morbidly fascinated that her mind was able to shift just perfectly to allow for the whispers of when she still knew herself as Amaeria to resurface, for they are so few. For her to have slipped so far back, to not be able to access the vast majority of her memories…

It is something that will not likely never happen again—the odds are far more likely that if she does slip again it will be to a time when she was Liila or when she had no name at all—but that does not mean that the trauma from the memory itself will not linger. The fears and emotions it invokes will stick with her long after the memory has reburied itself.

Again, Vesiphone is tempted to simply draw the memory away herself, to make certain that it cannot cause any further damage to the wounded soul before her.

She does not.

It is with a quiet regret that she scoops her newest aspirant into her arms and takes to the air. Eridia is waiting not far off. Having heard of what happened, she has come to see if any assistance will be needed.

"Gather her things," Vesiphone murmurs, motioning back to the platform with her head. "We will find a place for her in the eastern aspirant quarters."

"But—" Eridia cuts herself off and then looks from Vesiphone to Embrosia and back. "Shouldn't we keep—"

"We can't keep her up here," Vesiphone says. "She needs to be free to move around, to wander. We will keep an eye on her, but she needs more space. More freedom."

If only she had realized that sooner, perhaps this lapse would not have happened. When she looked at Liila's memories before, she had seen a fear of being trapped, of being controlled, but she hadn't looked at the whys of it because she had promised that she would not look at anything specific.

Vesiphone has always prided herself in never breaking her word to her aspirants, and yet, she cannot help but feel that if she had allowed herself to take in Liila's memories more formally, perhaps this could have been avoided. Perhaps she could have given up this memory already, when she was alive. They could have guided her like they did regular aspirants, prioritizing certain memories over others and forming a plan for her that would result in the fastest recovery and freedom from her past.

Or in the least Vesiphone would have known that this would be an issue.

She is surprised, somewhat, that Embrosia never brought the matter up to her, never thought to tell her she felt trapped, that she could feel the noose—so to speak—closing in.

Vesiphone had thought that if she was in an open area, where she could see the world around her, where friends could be brought to her, that it would be calming, soothing.

Why didn't she say something?

It baffles her at first, until Vesiphone thinks of the oath Embrosia made to the Archon, and she wonders, not for the first time, if perhaps the Archon was too harsh.

It has never been her place to criticize their god, and she did her best to let her aspirant know that things were not so desperately dire, that she would not need to walk on eggshells to stay within the realm, and yet clearly she has failed there, too.

Or perhaps it is that fear of safety, that fear of the calm quiet that has made Vesiphone's assurances into something that cannot be trusted.

Or perhaps it is a mixture of both of those things and the fact that Embrosia's mind is fragmented horribly, and much of the work that Vesiphone did to mend her when she was Liila has been undone. The bindings healing her soul snapped when she crossed the Veil and back, and Vesiphone is surprised that Liila did not lose more of herself.

She was hoping this sort of lapse would not happen, but she has been watching for it. She just never imagined it would be this bad…

What has happened here and now is almost a worst-case scenario.

Vesiphone had hoped that by keeping her visitors to a minimum, by keeping stimulants few, and keeping Embrosia in a calm environment, she would avoid this sort of thing, that they might get her back to where she was without any of the fragments of her soul splintering further as it settles.

She should have checked her memories more thoroughly.

"How are we going to keep her from being overwhelmed by visitors? So many people come to see her every day."

Vesiphone gives Eridia a playful smile, not wanting her to worry or know just how much Vesiphone herself is fretting. "I'm sure we can keep a handful or two of mortals distracted for a week."

Eridia tilts her head. "We're not keeping her, then?"

"No, I don't think we are." Vesiphone shakes her head. "It is for the best. We will need to focus elsewhere, anyway."

After all, the Temple of Purity is going to close for the first time in eternity.

Vesiphone has done what she can to try to figure out the temple's Purpose, but she has come to the conclusion that she may be the paragon, but she can still use input from others. And so she has decided to let her disciples and acolytes voice their concerns free from the stress of their duties, to give them time to mourn what has been lost and adjust to the changes that are to come. She knows many of her disciples do not want things to change, if only because they feel that they will be giving their attackers exactly what they want. Others wonder if perhaps their temple has been too much for all these eons, if perhaps there was some kernel of reason tucked away in the motives that led to the attack.

And so she has already begun to send her aspirants who would be cleansing with her on to Courage to work on their rite there, with the promise that once things have been sorted out in Purity, they will return.

Only a handful of cleansing pools will remain open in the higher reaches of the temple, and they are to be reserved for removing traumas that are either already being dealt with from those who suffered attacks at their temples, or for those Bearers and Watchers returning to the realm. For a few have. Most have already been told to extend their duties, that someone will come to relieve them when it is feasible, but they are likely going to be pulling double shifts. They are to reach out for replacement only if they are truly overwhelmed.

It is a fortunate thing that the Burning Legion has been declawed, for it has actually led to them needing marginally fewer Bearers, with the lack of death surges that always came with the Legion reaching new worlds. And they were always reaching new worlds.

They are still pressed with needing more Bearers and Watchers, more ascended in general, but it is not quite as dire as it could be.

Thank the Archon for small mercies.

And for the fact that Vesiphone already has a contingency plan ready to be enacted, should she decide not to keep Embrosia with them through the talks that are to come.

When Vesiphone announced what she intended to do in her temple and got the Archon's blessing, Adrestes stood there beside her, mouth a thin line. She knew him well enough to know that he was having an internal debate about asking something himself, and she was able to guess what it would be.

Xandria, however, beat him to it, perhaps to provoke him into speaking his mind—he is still far too quiet in the meetings unless he is addressed directly. "And what of our former Maw Walker?" Xandria asked. "Is she to come to me with the other aspirants?"

Adrestes straightened a little. "I can take her in. There is plenty of room at Devotion, and I imagine there will be a bit of chaos getting everyone settled into Courage as it is."

His words were earnest enough.

Those displaced from Courage are returning home, if they can handle it. Most can. There are a few who have been moved to work on different rites while they continue to wrestle with what happened, but the majority are going back.

Xandria has said that even if everyone comes back, even when they get all the aspirants from Purity, it is going to be so empty. Roughly eighty percent of her people are gone, with those remaining mostly disciples who were more evenly matched for their attackers. A few disciples from Humility and Wisdom have switched to Courage, at least for now, to assist with the preparations and to better assess what will be needed to make the temple function once again.

Xandria gave Vesiphone a wink that Adrestes didn't catch before saying, "I do not know about that. It's such a long journey. Can she use the gateways yet?"

"No," Vesiphone said, quite sharply. "She will not be using anima gateways for, in the very least, months." Even as she spoke, she saw the way Adrestes fluffed up, though he'd quickly schooled his distress. She would need to talk to Xandria about playing with him later.

"The benefits of being with her soulmate outweigh a few extra days travel," Thenios interjected, giving Xandria a cross look before nodding to Adrestes. "If she's to be moved at all, it should be to Devotion."

"Should she be moved?" Chyrus asked then. Vesiphone eyed him, wondering if he was trying to nettle Adrestes, too, or if he planned to offer a place for Embrosia at his temple as well. He seemed sincere in his objection. He has come by to see her twice, to consult with Vesiphone, and he was properly horrified to see the damage her brief outing has done to her soul.

Further, with those from Courage having already left Humility, there is room at his temple, even if the children souls kept at Purity have moved to take their place.

There were tears and a few Purity disciples who lingered in Humility, confident their brethren will address concerns they have about the changes to their temple while they tend to the little ones. Familiar faces are important to keep them calm and feeling safe, after all.

From the sound of it, the little ones all adore Chyrus, though, so their settling in is not going too poorly.

Especially considering how good he is with stories.

"I will see how she is doing when it comes time," Vesiphone said then, smiling warmly at Adrestes. "I was thinking of offering her a voice with my disciples and acolytes, a fresh perspective to help us look at the considered changes to our temple. She is the newest of our aspirants, with the most to give up, after all."

"I don't agree with that. I don't think she should have to give up any of what she has as the Dragonlily," Xandria said then.

Everyone present was surprised by that, even the Archon, though she hid it well enough, merely cocking her head as she looked at her Paragon of Courage.

"I think your soulbinding is making you a biased," Thenios said, frown in place.

Xandria held up a hand, giving him an annoyed look. "The rule has always been thus: The aspirant gives up the memories prior to their death. Once they arrive in Bastion, they keep everything after that, unless they choose to relinquish something. It is not her fault that she arrived in Bastion and was dragged back. Everything that happened as the Dragonlily happened after her arrival. Even if we decide that aspirants must still give up everything before their death, it wouldn't affect Liila's memories of being Liila. If anything, she is almost done with her Rite of Purity, because she has already lost almost everything that came before her first death."

"I'll say it again," Thenios said, irate. "You are biased, Xandria."

"And so are you, Thenios," she snapped back. "I can name half a dozen instances where odd occurrences have happened to our Bearers or Watchers, where they had the choice to forget, even if the memories they had made were unconventional, because those memories happened after the death where they were judged. There was Bearer Moros, who was stuffed into a mortal corpse by mistake by a novice necromancer who grabbed him instead of the soul he was bearing."

"He gave up those memories."

"By choice," Xandria stressed. "What happened to Liila is no different, and Moros was given the option to keep those."

"He was—" Vesiphone begian, but Thenios was too irritated to realize she had started talking.

"It is not the same thing. It was not his body. Moros was shoved into the corpse of a creature from a completely different world from his own, a world he had no emotional ties to. And he never developed ties to that world while he was trapped in it, either." He shook his head, scowl in place. "The fact that you call her Liila should be a warning enough that you—"

"Liila came after Amaeria died," Xandria and Adrestes said in unison.

"Amaeria is the one who was judged worthy of Bastion," Adrestes added, voice strong, shoulders squared. "And like every one of us, she became someone else after that judgment."

"And I have the records of exactly what she became," Thenios said. "Those who come to us become better versions of themselves through eons of training. She fell to vandalism and arson. Assassinations." As Xandria opened her mouth, he pointed at her, warningly. "And if you look at her memories, as you can quite easily, you know quite well that not everything she has done has been in service."

"She was traumatized and lost her way, with poor guidance to help her find her way back," Xandria objected. "The longer she went with stability, the more she exemplified our ways. And that was without the guidance that we offer to all of our aspirants becoming those best versions of themselves, something she had no access to. I find her growth rather impressive. We have had other outbursts from aspirants in the past, those who have suffered traumas far less severe than hers. We did not make them forget—"

"But in the end they always did," Thenios snapped. "In the end, we would remove the traumas, and then they would choose to remove the outbursts because they could not understand what made them act thus. We—"

"Not everyone forgot," Vesiphone intervened, letting her voice carry a little louder than it usually does. When Thenios looked at her, surprised, she arched her brow. "Memory records may be your domain, Thenios, but you only get them after I have helped them be forgotten. And not everything is." As Thenios' eyebrows pinched, she motioned vaguely in the direction of her temple, "And while I am not done with the research, I can tell you that those who kept their optional memories seem to have proven more loyal to the realm than those, like Moros, who fell from the Path the second he saw there was support for a rebellion."

Thenios fell quiet, as did the rest of the chamber. At length, he turned to face her fully. "When do you think you'll be done collecting your data?"

Vesiphone shrugged. "It will be years, I imagine, trying to wrangle all the damaged documents and evidence, but I can give you copies of what I have so far." As he nodded, she looked then at Xandria. "That is not to say I think Embrosia should keep her memories of the realm of the living. In truth, I don't know where I stand with her. It is not the same as what happened to Moros, but then nothing like what has happened to her has happened to anyone else."

"Save for the rest of the Seven," Chyrus pointed out. "If we let her keep her memories, then the other six should be able to keep theirs."

"The other six are not well known in Bastion, even if one or two of them have made their way here," Vesiphone argued. "Her situation is unique. If we insist Embrosia forget, then does the rest of the realm need to forget her, too? That sort of task would be monumental and impractical. It would take decades to find everyone with memories of the Maw Walker and try convince them to give them up, especially since most have positive memories. I can see many refusing to forget her. I know I would have trouble cleansing those memories, considering all she has done for my temple and our people. Half of my disciples and acolytes want a statue erected of her, if not in the temple, somewhere in the realm."

"I can say the same of my temple," Xandria said. "Thanikos has been asking me about it. He's in charge of our memorials for the fallen, and has been asking if he should go ahead and do something for the Maw Walker while he's at it. I've told him to worry about one thing at a time."

Adrestes let out a faint laugh. "He's already drawing up plans. And I think half my temple would get behind that, as well. Especially those like Astronos, who she brought back in the Maw. Every one of the people who have been given a second chance, free from Helya's corruption, know that that was her doing."

"She's a hero to the realm," Chyrus agreed. "She may have had a rough patch after her abduction back the realm of the living, but we have already decided to welcome her back into the realm, and I don't think those actions should be held against her. Those injured in Maldraxxus, who came to stay in my temple, they have spoken nothing but praise for her, and it has stirred admiration for her among many at Humility." He paused before adding, "Myself included."

Thenios sighed, pausing to run his fingers vigorously through his hair. "We can all agree that she is a hero, as are many of those who come here—"

"She's our hero," Xandria corrected. "One to the Shadowlands as a whole. She is on parr with Aella and Mercia and Agthia."

While Thenios seemed taken aback by the comparison, Chyrus nodded. "She really is. She may not be a paragon or Hand, but she has fought battles that they would have just as easily thrown themselves into. She died for our realm just as surely as they did. The only difference is that we are lucky enough to have a second chance to keep her."

"A third chance," Adrestes murmured.

Thenios said then, sounding somewhat defeated, "I am not trying to take that away, but I am saying that treating her differently than the rest of the aspirants will be noted. We cannot make exceptions to our rules. Whatever the changes are, they must be uniform. We discussed letting some memories stay, but you're talking about letting her keep everything—"

"If it's because of mortal ties, then she—and every other aspirant," Adrestes corrected himself, "And every ascended and every one of us, will need to forget that the mortals ever came to the Shadowlands, because we are all making connections to the mortal world, every day. And even if we all forget, Ardenweald will not. Revendreth will not. Maldraxxus will not. Unless we intend to completely close off our realm, more so than it was before the drought, how are we going to interact with the others?"

Chyrus agreed, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his knee where he sat. "It seems that we will need to let people keep some mortal ties, or become even stricter with memories than we were before, which will not end well considering we just had a rebellion thanks to the previous restrictions." He paused and glanced at Thenios. "Do we know how many officially rebelled yet?"

"It gets hard to tell with those who were sent to the Maw, as even Devos admitted that some of those who ended up there were sent there to keep them from warning the rest of us of what was coming. But it looks like almost ten percent of the realm became forsworn or mawsworn willingly. And seeing as only a fifth of the realm is ever here at a time, that's why it seemed like everyone was turning on us."

"Think how much worse it will be if we start insisting people must give up memories from after they've passed their Rite of Purity, or after they've gotten theirs wings," Chyrus pointed out.

"Logistical nightmares aside," Adrestes said, frown as pronounced as ever, "We have said that people can keep memories, so that should extend—"

"To an extent," Vesiphone corrected. "We have seen what happens when ascended keep their memories—"

"Yes, we have," the Archon interrupted. Her tone was not forceful, though it quieted their bickering instantly.

Vesiphone knew immediately what she was thinking of.

The letter.

When their Maw Walker had died, her belongings had been given to Blood to go through and see that messages were delivered and keepsakes sent to those who would need them most.

A troll had come to them a few days later, large and green and full of rage. Vesiphone had known him from her glance at Liila's memories.

Haa'aji.

She had expected accusations and any other myriad of things to be thrown at them.

Instead, all that he had done was shove a letter into Xandria's hands. Then he'd spit on the ground and said that it was a shame the Archon had survived the attack on her, when better souls had fallen.

The Archon had let him go, recognizing that he spoke from grief, and Xandria had given her the letter after reading it herself. "It's from one of my people who was taken to Maldraxxus."

The Archon had read it and dismissed the lot of them, though later she had come to Vesiphone to ask her opinion on it.

It had been such a little thing, written in a shaky hand. An ascended's admittance that she had kept a single memory of a love she had had, and how—even as she found comfort in that memory—she had wondered if her abduction and torture had been divine punishment for going against the Archon's will.

The Archon had already gathered the memories around the letter, already knew who had written it, already seen the crippled ascended as she wrote her final thoughts, seen her die alone in mud, clutching the letter, and seen the Maw Walker find her and cry when she read the contents.

In the end, Vesiphone is not sure she was able to help her Archon at all, as she had been unsure what to say. She had been surprised that ascended had been able to keep memories through her Rite of Purity without her realizing it and had apologized for her failure. As she had spoken, the Archon's expression had shifted to something that she hadn't understood at the time.

Grief.

And then she had told Vesiphone that she was not angry with her, but that there was much to think about.

They had not talked about it since.

"Some of our ascended have quietly kept memories," the Archon said then, during their meeting, voice soft. "And they never erred from their duties." She looked at each of her paragons. "We need to know how many."

"I doubt people will be comfortable coming forward with something like that," Chyrus said after a long pause. "It has always been a taboo, so it was never even spoken of. I wouldn't be surprised if each ascended who has kept a memory thinks they are the only one who did so."

"Then we show them they aren't alone," Adrestes offered.

As the silence started to settle over them, Thenios finally spoke. "Since eternity began, we have lost seventy thousand four hundred and nineteen souls, out of the trillions of trillions that have been borne across the Veil, because of memories kept. We always considered it was kept as low as it was because of how quickly we corrected what had led to those losses. Those numbers—"

"And how many were lost because we blindly threw them into the Maw?" Xandria asked. When Thenios frowned, she looked at him pointedly. "You have not gone there."

"I went—"

"To Korthia, briefly. You have not been in the Maw proper. You have not seen what happened to those who did not deserve that place." She held up a hand before adding, "Statistically, we know that not even one percent of the souls who we dropped past the sleeping Arbiter would have been allotted that fate. Even with an uptick of malice in the realms of the living." She looked down then. "I have been to the Maw. I have seen the fates of those we damned. We have the blood of innocents on our hands. And we did far more damage by doing that than anyone did keeping a memory."

"My point, before you interrupted," Thenios said, not bothering to hide his annoyance, "is that the numbers take on new meaning. Before, we assumed the pattern was that if someone kept any memories, then it was inevitable that eventually their biases would lead them to making poor decisions, that they would try to slip souls into realms without allowing for judgments or allow souls to be restored to life when they should not have been. Now we see that it may not be inevitable, and we need to reevaluate that. We need to see how many people are ferrying souls who have never succumbed to the biases tied into what they kept. If it is many or few. For all we know, Disciple Nomori was just the most recent anomaly who would have ended up falling to her biases, just like the others—"

"Disciple Nomori ferried souls for eons without issue," Xandria snapped, speaking of the ascended who had written the letter. "It is bad enough that she suffered as she did. I will not have you slander her."

"It is not slander; it is concern," Thenios argued. "Watcher Eresthene was an exemplary Watcher until she decided that one soul was so much like her son. And then look at the damage she caused."

"And this is why no one is going to tell us if they kept their memories," Chyrus murmured. "They know that marks them as someone who cannot be trusted, someone who must be watched or sent from the realm."

"We need to know," the Archon insisted. "We need to know if the ones who have fallen are the majority of those who kept memories or not. If almost everyone who kept memories ended up upending the system, even briefly, then that will affect how and what memories can be kept, if any. But if the majority of the realm has clung to some whisper of their past, then it means that it was not the memories that made our ascended fall. It was something else, and that something else will need to be identified so that it can be dealt with and casualties prevented in the future as we move forward with kept memories."

"I will talk to my people," Vesiphone said. The others agreed to open discussions with their own disciples.

"Perhaps we should have our Hands do it instead," Chyrus suggested. "Or even a trusted disciple. Talking to a paragon about such taboos will be daunting. Especially considering we have all given up our pasts."

Thenios let out a humph before shaking his head. "If they cannot talk to us then perhaps we should not be paragons at all."

Vesiphone could see from the way his feathers ruffled at that that he is thinking about Devos, about how she had not been able to talk to him, either. Vesiphone caught his gaze and gave him a gentle smile before saying, "Well, I think that would just mean we have a little bit of growing to do ourselves. We've been paragons so long that perhaps we need a reminder now and then that we are not always right."

"I've had enough of those lately," Thenios muttered.

That was when it seemed to dawn on Xandria that he was struggling with just how much he has been wrong about over the last few eons, that he is trying to find the line where he has messed up and where he has maintained his duties well, as though such a thing could ever be so clear cut.

Vesiphone does not doubt the Archon will be talking more with Thenios and all of them individually in the coming eons.

Their meeting came to a close after that, with Vesiphone promising to keep Adrestes and the rest of them appraised of how well Embrosia is mending in addition to talking with her people about memories kept, and to let Adrestes know if his soulmate will be making the trip to his temple or not.

Now, as Vesiphone oversees Liila's tranfer to an empty aspirant's quarters—such buildings usually house two dozen or so aspirants together, though with so many of her aspirants already gone, most of the temple is already eerily empty—she considers whether she should even offer to let her stay in the temple at all.

As Thenios pointed out, there are benefits to being near one's soulmate while mending, and she is starting to think that perhaps that would be for the best. After all, she can always talk to Embrosia about her opinions when she drops by Devotion to check on her.

She inspects Embrosia's mind again and mends as much as she dares while she sleeps, solidifying where memories should be and doing what she can to ensure there is enough structure to prevent another one of these lapses.

She sits with her, then, wanting to make sure that they will know who it is who comes back to them, wanting to know that her healing has taken hold as it should.

As she waits, she cannot help but look around at the empty temple grounds. She feels a twinge of sadness, thinking of those who were lost here, and wondering about what she has done here over all these eons. She remembers the tears of the aspirants as they struggled, the way she has strived to help them, to teach them to embrace their future instead of clinging to their pasts.

She thinks about how that is what made her Devos' first target, of the hatred in Lysonia's eyes when she had met her on the battlefield, of how she had yelled that she did not remember her own family.

Even Vesiphone has had her moments where she has watched the loving memories of her aspirants and some little voice has whispered to her, musing that she had such connections once. Connections she cannot even remember to mourn. In her early years, she remembers going to view her memories a few times, of watching them play out before her, of loved ones whose faces meant nothing to her, of the emptiness it made her feel to think that they were once her whole world.

Most of the paragons' and Hands' memories that were stolen from the Locus have been recovered, but many of Vesiphone's soul mirrors have been damaged beyond repair.

When she looked them over, saw the cracks and missing fragments that assured she would never be able to view her past again, she had been surprised how much it had broken her heart. Even if she had only used them as the occasional reference and hadn't viewed them in eons, the fact that they are truly, irrevocably gone hurts.

She gave them up willingly, and yet…

Those were meant to serve as an eternal monument to the person she was, the person who was judged worthy of this place and paved the way for Bastion to be her home.

She mourns their loss in a way she cannot explain.

It makes her wonder.

If she can mourn what does not even stir her heart, then what of the aspirants who fall under her care? What of the ones who are in the process of sacrificing all that meant so much to them? It is a reminder of the pain they go through, a pain that she sees every day but has not felt herself in so long that she cannot relate. It makes her wonder if trying to move them through that pain as quickly as they could bear was the wrong approach. She always let them pace themselves, but would often tell them that it would hurt less once they were through the hurdle.

That is why, though she has not told anyone yet, she thinks that she will change the temple's Purpose.

In the past, if she had had such a thought, she would have cleansed it to make sure it did not take root and to ensure that she held herself to the same standards of those within her temple, but now…

Now, knowing that her Archon will let her change things, it is different.

They will leave behind Purity of Mind and shift to Purity of Purpose.

It will mean more work for her and her disciples, to be sure. Each aspirant will walk a slightly different Path from the next. It will take time at first, as they go forward blindly through trial and error. It will be like how the temple was in the beginning, before it was large enough that she needed a second, back when the realm was still relatively new.

She thinks that they will evaluate memories for signs of biases that might affect one's ability to Bear or Watch. She's not quite sure the processes they will use yet or how they will decide on how dire a bias is, but she has faith her disciples will be able to help her shape this new step in the Path.

The temple will stay empty until they can figure it all out.

Vesiphone waits with Embrosia until she wakes up. She is worn and grumpy when she comes to, but she is herself again.

Again, Vesiphone thanks the Archon for small mercies.

"How are you feeling?" Vesiphone dares, when she sees her aspirant sitting up.

"Like a kodo stomped on my head," she pauses, looking up at Vesiphone and frowns. "Headache."

"I gathered," Vesiphone says. "May I take a look?"

When she nods, Vesiphone comes closer and appraises her, weaving a few more smaller heals over her. "Better?"

"Thank you, paragon," Embrosia murmurs.

"You know you're welcome to call me Vesiphone."

She nods awkwardly, though she is distracted quickly as she looks around. "Where are we?"

"We're going to keep you here for now," Vesiphone says. "I will ask that if you want to walk around, you have someone with you. I know it's a bit cumbersome never having time to yourself, but I do not want you having a spell and falling into some brush and us not able to find you."

Embrosia's gaze snaps to her, and for a moment the confusion there stirs concern in Vesiphone as she wonders if her charge is already slipping again.

"I don't have to go back to that platform?"

Relief washes through her. "No."

"And I don't have to stay here."

"You need to stay within the temple grounds," Vesiphone clarifies, "but it's a very large temple and if you want to wander, you're free to."

Embrosia nods, slowly at first, before meeting her gaze. "Thank you."

Vesiphone rises then, but pauses, looking at her. "If you feel like the walls are closing in, let me know. I don't want my temple to cause you grief."

Embrosia seems to consider it a moment before getting to her feet and walking to the door of her new quarters, peering out of it to the paths and gardens beyond. "I can just…walk out?"

"You can." Vesiphone catches a nearby disciple's attention and motions them over. As they descend, she notices that Embrosia is watching her again.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she replies, reaching up and touching her fingertips to her temple. "I just… your timing is perfect. I think I was having a dream about… I can't quite remember."

Vesiphone smiles at her, softly, to hide her own heartache. She wishes she had perfect timing.

"What is it?"

"I'm glad you're feeling better, aspirant," she says instead, reaching out and patting Embrosia's shoulder carefully. "Kiaranyka is going to keep you company for now. Be well."


Beyond Devotion's sprawling grounds, there is much movement in the realm.

Adrestes cannot see it, but he hears about it at every meeting with the Archon and he can feel their echoes through his soulbinds.

Arios is pleased to be neck-deep in sorting soul shards, and he doesn't mind that those from Courage who were assisting are leaving and has been less impatient with Thanikos since their soulbinding, and both he and Thanikos are glad that Adrestes is keeping them around.

Being bound to another is somehow not as daunting now that he is a paragon. It is easier to distance himself from the waves of their emotions, and he is able to focus on his own work without getting inundated with Thanikos' enthusiasm and trepidation at what is to come or Arios' curiosity and relief that the realm is settling back into how it should be, with a few new twists.

Thanikos is thrilled not to be bouncing around from temple to temple anymore, and has settled into overseeing the monuments to the fallen at Courage, with Apolon and Artemede still overseeing much of the movements of the aspirants. Xandria has been joking that she has three Hands now, and has been musing about a position she could give them to recognize all they have done, how they have gone beyond the roll of mere disciple to keep Courage functioning in their homes away from home.

Arios has discussed with Thenios the best way to go forward with discussing memories with their disciples, and has suggested they wait until they get data from another temple, to show that they are not the only ones asking, and that no one is going to get into trouble.

Chyrus has already spoken with his disciples, as has Xandria, and both have come to the Archon with reports that over half of their disciples have some type of memory that they have quietly held onto. It seems that keeping something of the past is not so rare as they have always thought.

When Adrestes asks his own disciples and the ascended with him, telling them that what they tell him may mean that those coming after them do not have to hide their memories as they have, Nebi is the first to talk, blurting out, "I had a cat."

As all eyes turn toward her, she looks down and then up at Adrestes. "I loved my cat. I remember that he was with me in the end. I don't know how I died, but I was cold. And I don't know if that was just because I was dying or if I was somewhere that was cold or… but I remember he curled up on my chest and that was the last feeling I had. Him sitting on me, keeping me warm, comforting me." She looks down then, a hand pressed to her bosom, fingers splayed. "I became a Watcher as a way to pass that on. To bring people comfort at the end. I know we're supposed to be neutral, and I don't let it affect if I send them on or back, but I try not to let it be so cold."

At first, silence meets her confession. Adrestes realizes that he is the one who will need to respond first, that he cannot afford his surprise that his oldest friend in the realm has managed to keep a memory from life for so long.

Surely, it should have faded on its own by now.

"You've always been good with souls," Adrestes says. "I always admired that about you."

Nebi smiles up at him. "Thank you, Paragon Adrestes."

From there, other memories are offered with cautious tones that slowly grow in confidence.

It is always something so little. Names are often gone, but there are always oddly specific little details, little things that make each ascended smile as they explain what little secret they have kept.

Adrestes has to fend off the feeling that he is the odd man out.

Arios and Thanikos both offer their assurances then, that neither of them have kept their pasts, and he knows, through their binding, that they are being honest with him.

As the conversation winds on, it seems that the realm really does seem to have fallen half and half. And with each new admission, with each new ascended stepping forward with a memory that they hold dear, he finds that most of them consider that memory helpful, that it has inspired them with whatever their role in the realm.

It ends up being the same across all temples, save for Purity. There, there are only a handful of disciples who kept anything. From what he can tell from Vesiphone's recounts, most at Purity are a bit startled by the revelation that so many of their brethren disobeyed the rules, and he knows that it has both Vesiphone and the Archon wondering about how practices will look going forward.

It is all so…odd.

The Jailer is in Zereth Mortis, with the powers of the First Ones at his fingertips. Reality could unwind around them at any second.

And yet they all still press on.

After all, what else can they do? Sit and wait to be unmade?

Assuming the Jailer's new reality would be so kind.

It is important to reach for normalcy, important to prepare for the future they are fighting for, but at the same time, it almost feels like denial. It is a sentiment that seems to take hold of everyone, from time to time. He has found Nebi fighting back a break down, found Kleia assuring others—and herself—that it's not for nothing.

Things will turn out well.

In truth, faith is all that they have right now, and Adrestes can only hope that that faith will be enough, when the time comes to manifest into defiance against a wayward god.

For now, he talks to Sybigone about possibly looking after Liila when she arrives, and does his best to focus on the changes that he must lead, on making the tenets of Devotion that will keep the realm going into the rest of the eternity that they pray they will have.


Stanikos waves at Nemea as she alights in front of him. She nods to him and then looks around, curious. "Have you seen our former Maw Walker?"

"Seen her?" Stanikos asks innocently. The Ascended's gaze snaps back to him, eyes narrowing slightly as she inspects his features. He fidgets a little under her scrutiny and then glances off to the left as he whispers, "I…not lie please?"

Nemea's gaze follows his, to the left, and she simply nods to him and takes back to the air. "I would not ask that of you, my friend."

He waits a moment until he is sure she's gone before moving back to one of the nearby tables and peering beneath it. "Why you hiding?"

"Because Nemea is crazy," Liila hisses. "Her and Pelodis both."

Stanikos sits down so that he can see her better when she does not slide out from under the table. "They just find you?" When Liila nods, he looks impressed, feathers fluffing a little as he asks, "How you avoid so long? They always catch new souls. Make choose."

"In life, I treated them the way I treat warlocks," Liila replies. "Don't make eye contact, pretend you can't hear when they call out to you, make a point of being in their vicinity for as little time as possible, and don't give them the opportunity to speak."

"But why?"

"Because I don't care, Stanikos," Liila replies, staring pointedly at him. She scratches her nails against the underside of the table as she speaks, making dull screeching noises in the process. "I don't care which is better, and they won't accept that answer. They take my indifference as indecision and keep pressing why their little cuddle muffins are better than the other's."

"You try tell them you think on it?" Stanikos asks. When Liila's gaze snaps to him, suspicious, he shrugs. "That how I not have to choose."

"This is the Archon's fault," Liila mutters, peering out from under the table. "If I hadn't promised to respect everyone, I could have kept pretending they don't exist and spared myself this misery."

Stanikos ducks under the table with her so that Nemea doesn't see him as she comes back by, looking rather disappointed. He gives it a minute before saying, "You know, they just want share what they love."

"I am, quite literally, a captive audience," Liila whispers angrily. "I don't want to hear about anything from anyone if I don't have the option of walking away."

Stanikos tilts his head as he appraises her, talons drumming on his tummy. "You not want talk?" When Liila shakes her head, he motions to himself. "You want me leave?"

"No, you're fine," Liila mutters. She cannot help but allow a fleeting smile at the steward when he lets out a happy chirp. It is gone too soon as she glances away from him, to the temple beyond, peering for any insight that Nemea might be coming back their way. She doesn't have a good view of the sky, though, so it's unlikely she'll be able to tell. "I wonder if I can respectfully set someone on fire…"

"I think no."

With a dramatic sigh, Liila surveys the world beyond their hiding spot for feet and then looks back at Stanikos. "Do you think there's a way I can get back to the barracks without her finding me?" When he seems confused, she points in the direction she thinks her current quarters are.

Stanikos brow pinches and his feathers ruffle a second as he appraises her. "You not supposed to be here?"

"I'm not not supposed to be here," she replies. Then she looks at him. "I'm not supposed to go off alone. But I'm not alone because you're here. So."

Stanikos considers what she's said, accepts it, and nods. "You want come to village? Nemea and Pelodis not come by often."

"I can't go that far. I might have an 'episode'," Liila says, venom on her tongue with that last word. Liila has been told that she has gotten lost in her memories three times now, though she can't remember any of them. She does know that sometimes she gets a little confused with names in ways she didn't used to or she'll have a fleeting instant where she doesn't remember where she is. Supposedly, she's had a couple moments where Eridia has found her looking for her guildmates, or panicking because her face is not her own.

Part of her thinks they're making these things up to try to get her to 'settle down'.

But another part of her remembers getting confused sitting with her children, of feeling like it was all she could do to keep herself together in front of them.

Perhaps it is just too scary to think that there are really times when she is so disoriented that she doesn't know who or where she is.

If only it hadn't led to Vesiphone treating her like she's some fragile doll that might shatter if not watched carefully.

She hates it.

Liila has spent the last month in Purity and has been allowed outside of the temple grounds only once, a little over a week ago, to see Adrestes ascend. She had thought the ceremony had gone well enough, even with everyone coming out of the woodworks to offer her haven in other realms, and yet when she got back here, it was mostly more of the same. Sitting up in her nest with someone there to watch her.

Before the ceremony, there was talk of letting her wander the grounds below to some extent, to assist with minor tasks. Now, while she is allowed to wander, it seems that the temple is on the brink of closing, which means she's still largely alone, save for whoever her current watchdog is.

Granted, she's been told she won't be here for much longer, but in a way that just makes the wait worse. She feels like she's on the cusp of freedom, only for things to be even worse because Nemea and Pelodis have spent the last two days taking turns looking after her while the disciples are away, 'enlightening' her on the joys of phalanx maintenance and pride bonding.

As Liila drums her fingers against her stomach, mulling over how she might be able to dissuade the two from bothering her further, someone slips under the table to lay shoulder to shoulder with her, and she nearly bolts into Stanikos, thinking it is Nemea.

However, Nemea has wings and can hardly fit under this table. That is a relief, at least.

When she looks to her side, however, she stills.

Eridia's face is unmistakable, even on an aspirant's body, and she gives Liila a simple nod before looking past her to Stanikos. "Would you please give us a moment?"

Rather than answer, Stanikos looks to Liila. "You want this?"

Liila cannot help but smile as she reaches out and clasps one of Stanikos' talons. "I'll be fine, thank you."

Stanikos eyes Eridia for a second and then nods. "I go get snacks."

With that, he scoots from under the large table and heads off, talons clacking softly against the stone.

"I was going to find you—" Liila begins, but stops when Eridia waves off her concern.

"I wanted to tell you a story, if you feel like listening."

"Do I have an option?" Liila asks before she can stop herself. It is something she has wanted to ask Nemea and Pelodis the last couple days, and she is as surprised as Eridia when it just slips out.

The skin crinkles around Eridia's eyes in time with her smile. "You do."

"Is it about larion? Or phalanx?"

"It is not."

Liila motions to the Hand, not wanting to seem contrary. "Then by all means, regale me."

"Long, long, long ago," she begins and shifts a little. Liila moves over so that she may lay next to her more comfortably without exposing their hiding spot. "When I was still a disciple, I was called on a bearing run, and I was captured by a death cult in the world I went to." When Liila's brow shoots up, Eridia waves her hand. "I don't remember more than that—it was incredibly traumatic, so I cleansed those memories. However, what I do remember, is that my soul was damaged when I got away from them. Very badly. I barely made it back to the realm at all."

Liila watches her, already knowing where this is going.

"Now, I wasn't injured as badly as you were," Eridia continues, "which makes your injuries all the more horrifying to me, if I'm honest—"

"I thought you didn't remember."

"I don't remember how I got them or my time in captivity," Eridia corrects, holding up a single finger as she speaks quietly. "However, I kept the memories of my recovery. Lysonia was with me every day, and I couldn't imagine ever getting rid of a memory with her in it." She falls quiet a moment before adding, "I still can't."

Silence settles over them for a hair too long before Eridia catches herself. She shakes her head vigorously and then looks back at Liila. "I was not just realmbound, not just templebound, but stuck in my quarters in the temple, much as you've been. And even knowing why, even with my lover staying with me, I remember how awful it was. I felt like I was trapped in a cage. Being forced to stay somewhere takes the joy out of being there, no matter how much you love that place."

Liila eyes her. "So you get it."

"I do, I really do," Eridia says, shifting a little so she can look more squarely at Liila. "But the thing is, I was in no condition to run around. Or fly around. Or even walk around. And the better I felt, the more I wanted to go out and do things, but if I had, it wouldn't have ended well."

Liila fights the urge to roll her eyes.

"You're a healer, and you know I'm right," Eridia adds. She motions to Liila. "If someone has broken ankles, and you splint them, you're not going to let them walk around on those, much less run or jump. Even if they're healed with magic, there's still that grace period where they should be careful lest they strain the mending. And the more severe the injury, the stronger the mending, the longer the grace period."

Resentfully, Liila nods.

It is true enough, even if most people she knows ignore that grace period, pushing themselves further than they should, sooner than they should.

Azeroth has a way of making sure proper rest is never an option.

"Now, I'm not saying they should or shouldn't have kept your survival a secret or not. That's a decision beyond my rank and it doesn't matter what I think about what's already in the past," Eridia says, waving it off. "But I do know that keeping you stable means both keeping you out of trouble and in a place where you can heal without interruption or challenges to that healing."

Liila grimaces.

"So I don't approve of what's about to happen. I think we should keep you here, where you can wander around a bit more, but not get overstimulated with a lot of travel or visitors or…" Eridia sighs. "What I want to do is irrelevant, though, because it's already been decided. You're going to Devotion." She pauses. "Unless you choose to stay and mend here. Vesiphone would take it into consideration if you felt you were not well enough to travel."

"I am absolutely well enough to travel," Liila replies.

With another sigh, Eridia meets her gaze, expression hard to read. "I thought you'd say that." She doesn't give Liila a chance to reply before adding, "And with that, I suppose it's time to walk you out of the temple and send you on your way."

"What—" Liila jerks up, smacking her head against the underside of the table. She cringes into herself, clutching her forehead.

"Well, unless you give yourself a concussion," Eridia says, weaving a quick healing spell over Liila. She catches her chin and has her follow her finger to make sure that she can focus right.

"I don't have to stay here?"

"Not unless you have a major setba—" Eridia lets out a sharp cry as Liila flings herself into her, hugging her tightly. "Now, don't get too excited. You still need to stay calm and not overexert yourself, you hear? And you still need to have someone with you, in case you do lapse."

Liila nods. "Right."

"But you are among the last of our aspirants who need moving and if we hold you any longer, there won't be anyone to travel with you."

Talons clack louder and louder as they approach the table. There is the sound of a tray being placed on the surface overhead, and then a feathered hand reaches under with a slice of purian. "You come out for juice. It here."

Liila takes the first slice offered with thanks and passes it to Eridia before receiving one of her own. Stanikos climbs back under the table to join them then, not bothering to see if Eridia wants continued privacy.

Eridia stares at the purian in her hand and looks pointedly at Liila. "I would have told you this earlier, except you were missing…"

"I…was trying to escape overstimulation?" Liila says, trying to spin her game of hide and seek into something positive. Eridia just rolls her eyes.

"I sent Nemea away, so she won't be in your travel group," Eridia says. Liila considers hugging the Hand again, but stops when Eridia holds up a hand to stay her enthusiasm. "You can tell them that you need time to process what they've told you. That's how I got out of picking sides." She pauses. "Every few centuries one brings it up, and I just say I'm still thinking because both sides have such impressive merits."

Stanikos lets out a click of approval.

"They're just trying to make your idle time less dull," Eridia adds.

Liila takes a bite of her purian slice and considers it. Her day already feels better, considering she doesn't have to go back to her miserable little corner of the temple.

"Now, you're still going to need to take things slowly at Devotion. Vesiphone thinks that, once you've managed to go a full month without any lapses, you should be able to start some light training. Physical stuff. You'll need to wait longer before you can anima weave. We draw from our own anima to cast, as you know, and you can't afford to do that just yet."

"How long did it take you to be able to do spells? After you were hurt?"

Eridia's brow arches. She thinks back, munching quietly on her purian. "Well, it's a little hard to say, because I was able to do things the Agthian way, to pull anima out of the air around me to cast. But I'd say it was probably a decade at least before I was weaving from my own anima again. And I wasn't—"

"As hurt as I was," Liila finishes.

The idea that she will have to go without magic for so long…

"Anima is coming back," Eridia says, offhandedly. "I can already feel the shift. It left us so gradually that I never realized how suffocating it was without it. Now that it's coming back, though, it feels like…what's that mortal saying? Like I can finally breathe again."

"And what's Agthian anima weaving?"

"You should ask Xandria about it," Eridia says. "It's considered a fighting style, so most of the records of it are kept on hand in Courage, but basically you manipulate the anima around you to cast instead of drawing from your own."

"Like pulling on shadows or the Light?"

"I don't know about that," Eridia says, nudging her. "But I did hear that Agthia's methods were similar to what the Void used when it attacked, so perhaps? Again, you should ask Xandria. You'll be stopping by her temple on the way to Devotion, so you'll have a chance."

Liila nods, considering the possibilities. It would be nice if she could switch to spells that are more like the ones she's most comfortable using. As Eridia finishes her purian and asks if Liila is ready to hit the road, she thinks of something else.

Stanikos slips out from under the table first and helps Liila to her feet.

"I'm going by Courage? I'm not taking the gateway?"

"No, we don't want to risk those upsetting your mending." Eridia stops on the walkway they're on, reaching out and catching Liila's hand. "I know you don't want to hear it, but your recovery is going to take a long time. You'll get back to being able to do all the things you could. Just…little by little."

"Well, I won't be able to do everything I did."

Eridia lets out a soft hum. "I suppose that's where cleansings have always helped. When you spend an eon or two as a disembodied soul and then forget the things you can no longer do, you can't miss them."

"Have you figured out what memories will be allowed to be kept?" Liila asks as they start walking again, Eridia on one side and Stanikos on the other.

Eridia frowns at that. "It's a lot more complicated than just picking out which memories might be safe or might be detrimental. Every soul is different, so what you might be able to keep and still stay true to our sacred task might be something that would push someone else over the edge."

"Do you think your temple will be rededicated like Loyalty was?" Liila asks. She can see Path that leads to the entrance of the temple, one she has not walked in what feels like forever. As they draw closer, she can see a few floating pallets with vespers and crates of varying size strapped to them. There are a handful of aspirants and ascended mulling about, but aside from that, the paths are eerily empty.

"I honestly don't know," Eridia says. "I hope we don't need to go that far, but I suppose we shall see."

Liila grimaces at that, "It must be hard, having to reevaluate something you felt worked well for so long."

"Lucky for you, you don't need to worry about that."

Even as Liila feels excitement bubbling within her at the thought of getting to travel, another thought stops her. "What about my punishment?"

"Hmm?"

"For leaving the realm and putting Thales in danger."

"Vesiphone thinks you've already suffered enough, and so do I. So long as you don't go throwing yourself out of the realm any time soon, we'll say you've completed your penance." Eridia tousles Liila's hair playfully as they stop in front of the last pallet, which is largely empty. There are two kyrian waiting beside it. One is almost a head taller than the other, and Liila recognizes him when he smiles at her and nods.

Eridia motions to him. "Acolyte Galistos will be one of your traveling companions until Courage."

Liila nods to Eridia, and then looks at Galistos. He offers her a hand and she takes it, clasping his arm the way she would a fellow Horde member. There's a faint sparkle of recognition in his eyes as he grips her arm back, meeting her gaze with a knowing nod. "I hope you're ready. We'll be going at a decent clip."

Liila cannot help but scoff at his concern. His grin widens and he motions for her to step up to the pallet. There are two mats laid out in the back, with enough room for another soul or two to sit. He offers her a boost up onto the pallet after the other kyrian has hopped in and can assist Liila from that end. Stanikos comes up next, examining the space then clicking his beak once as he carefully shifts a few things around to make it neater.

Eridia offers her a gentle pat on her arm, having resumed her usual form so that she easily towers over the rest of them. "Be safe, you hear me? I look forward to seeing you again, my friend."

With that, she takes to the air, heading to the front of the caravan to speak with those leading it.

Disciple Kosmas lands next to them just long enough to offer a wave and let them know that he'll be traveling with them. "If you need anything," he begins in that deep baritone.

"We call," Stanikos, assures him, and he laughs. He takes back to the air when he is certain that Galistos and the rest of them are safely seated.

There is a moment's pause and then the pallets start to move, the action jolting Liila just enough that her hand brushes against a small stack of scrolls near her bed mat. When she glances down, she realizes that these are the ones she's been studying.

In addition to those, her spare robe is also folded neatly beside her, as well as a small bag. She recognizes the stitchwork almost immediately and frowns as she picks it up.

This is Mitchell's impeccable work.

"Don't worry, Eridia knows it's here," Galistos says. When Liila looks up at him, surprised, he smiles. "I've heard that you're a bit…anxious about crossing the higher ups. I don't know how true that is—considering all you've done for Bastion, I don't see how any of them could find fault with you—but so you know, Eridia knows you have personal effects from the mortal world. It's been approved to let you keep them."

Liila looks down at the bag.

She would be comforted, perhaps, if not for the fact that she doesn't have any personal effects.

Not since the Jailer destroyed her.

She'd sort of assumed her bags were destroyed with her body or…something.

However, when she opens the bag, there is a note on the top, from Blood.

Went through your things when we thought you were dead-dead, gave most to Haa'aji. Here's the stuff we figured you might want back. I'll be around. Let me know if I missed anything.

-Blood

Liila starts to shuffle through things and frowns when the only letters inside are from her kids. While she's happy to have those, she is missing one rather important one.

When she was in Maldraxxus, she had found a dead ascended clutching a letter. She had initially read it to see who it should go to, to make sure it could be delivered, but once she realized there was no way, she had unwittingly stuffed it in her bags, and then she had never been able to throw it out.

She had thought of giving it to someone else, but who? She didn't know the name of the deceased or the one she had written to in the end.

And so Liila had kept it.

It is not in her things now, however.

She hopes that Blood did not throw it away, though she won't be able to explain why it matters so much to her, if it has been.

Liila carefully sets her bag down on her mat when she realizes that she's hardly being good company. "Sorry."

"You're fine," Galistos assures her.

As their pallet floats through the great statues that pour water into the outer courtyard, Liila glances at Galistos, curious. "You're not staying?"

"I'm making certain the bells get where they're meant for and then I'm bringing word on how our aspirants are settling in back to the temple," Galistos says, smiling warmly. "I've already written my piece on what I'd like to see for the future of the temple, though, so after that, I'm heading to Humility to continue my efforts toward my rite there."

Liila nods. "So people are moving on the Path again."

"Thanks to you," the other aspirant says.

"Thanks to a lot of people," Liila murmurs.

The other aspirant doubles down, expression earnest. "You were the catalyst, whether you recognize it or not. We can push forward because of the great Dragonlily."

"Well, I'm just an aspirant now."

"I don't see how you could ever be just an aspirant," her companion replies.

There is the faintest echo of an agreement that comes to Liila through her soulbinding, for just an instant, before it is gone. It disappears fast enough that she wonders if she really felt it or not.

Xandria has kept things a little distant, but Liila still feels the occasional bubble of satisfaction or excitement from the paragon as people return to her temple. She has seen a flash or two of memories as well, of Agthia standing proud, watching the activities of Courage around her, always pleased because Xandria did the same instead of watching her, as much as she wanted to.

It is through those memories that Liila knows that is why Thanikos was chosen to be Xandria's hand. Because like her, he did not worry or waste his time looking up for praise, but kept his attention and help down, to those who still need it.

The conversation has moved on a little without her, and when she comes back into the present, she finds that her companions are musing over what smattering of mortals they might find at Courage. Her fellow aspirant professes to having a bit of an infatuation with one of the trolls who comes and goes. She asks if Liila knows her, but she doesn't off the top of her head. "Azeroth is a big world," Liila offers. "But you could always try talking to her."

"With Purity closed, I imagine the mortals will be mostly split between Devotion and Courage," Galistos says, thoughtfully. "I know we appreciated all the extra help around the temple. There was too much at times, surprisingly enough. We had to send some people on to Courage before the temple went quiet."

"Xandria's been pleased with that," Liila offers. A few times now, she's found Xandria trying to subtly pick her mind for ways to deal with certain mortals who don't tend to answer well to authority. Liila has been glad to share, and Xandria has been more open about it the last two times.

"You really are soulbound to a paragon?" the aspirant asks, eyes wide.

"Don't be rude," Galistos murmurs, and the aspirant realizes that she's being a bit forward with her questions.

Before she can apologize, Liila waves off her concerns. Liila brushes some of her hair back—over the last few weeks, she's finally managed to figure out how to do it so that it catches on her miserably tiny ears—and nods. "I don't mind. It's temporary, but yes."

The way the other aspirant looks at her, in complete awe, feels…a little too reverent. It reminds her of when she was High Priestess.

Luckily, the conversation shifts and moves on to other topics that don't inspire such direct attention to Liila.

They have been going for a few hours at a nice, brisk pace, with the fields rolling by and conversation coming and going. When they are about halfway, Liila is leaning against the edge of the pallet to watch the world sweep by—they're going about as fast as if they had kodo pulling them along—when five bright blue fingers abruptly grip the pallet just in front of her. Even as she sits up, a figure swings himself up onto the pallet with her, just narrowly managing not to tumble onto her in the process. He does, however, manage to make the whole pallet sway from the unexpected addition. A box of small handbells up near the front of the pallet clank unceremoniously.

Aspirant Kythekios, one of the aspirants Liila freed from the Maw, grins at her as he settles in, offering a small wave. "I heard you were heading to Courage, so I thought I'd meet you!"

Before Liila can tell him she's just passing through, Kosmas descends, the gusts from his wings catching their attention as he gives Kythekios a stern look. "Take care with your actions, aspirant."

Kythekios' apology sounds almost insincere as he promises not to do it again and then quickly focuses back on Liila. Kosmas allows a slight quirk to his lips before shaking his head and resuming the lazy circles he's been flying over their little caravan.

In no time, Kythekios has scooted over so that he is sitting beside Liila and intently showing her how to make a proper fist.

"You know, I don't think I'm supposed to be getting so much preferential treatment," Liila teases.

At that, Kythekios scoffs. "You freed me from the Maw, Dragonlily. Not only that, you helped me salvage my memories of how to fight." He shakes his head, eyeing her playfully. "Even if you walk the Maw no more, you'll always be a friend. And I have every intention of helping you with your physical training."

"I'm not technically there yet," Liila says.

After a bit of back and forth, with Kythekios calling to Kosmas to come down and answer a few questions about when Liila will be able to start training, he finally decides that there is no harm in at least learning the proper technique for a good punch.

"You can practice when you're bored," he declares and goes back to holding up his fists and encouraging her and everyone else to do so as well. Even Stanikos.

Well after Liila has had to take a break, Kythekios is still showing Galistos and the others appropriate jabbing techniques.

It takes a day and a half to get to Courage, though Liila is the only one who sleeps during that time. She has noticed that the older aspirants and ascended do not seem to adhere to the day and night schedule at all, that it is mostly for those in the Village, who are just becoming acquainted with the way eternity stretches out before them.

Apolon and Artemede are waiting for them at the gates along with a handful of disciples and mortals.

Or rather, they're waiting for the bells.

Thanikos stands ready to greet the other aspirants who have come, his voice rolling out over their small group in a way Liila has not heard before as he welcomes them formally to the temple. He is quite the showman, with a disarming smile and confidence that lends itself readily to those around him. He introduces them to a statue of Agthia and then one of Xandria, and he offers Liila a small wave before turning and leading the few who are staying into the temple grounds.

A steward Liila recognizes from Maldraxxus who has a mechanical arm offers Galistos a scroll before moving to assist with some of the bells. The acolyte stands there a moment, weighing the scroll in his palm, and then nods to Liila. "I'll see you around, I'm sure."

With that, though he looks like he wants to stay and say more, he hurries off to find the anima gateway so that he can return to Purity.

The temple's courtyard bustles with activity as disciples come to claim the bells. They will help ward off nightmares, Liila has been told, and considering how many vespers Courage lost in the attack, any spares are welcome.

A few of the mortals offer her greetings—Roberts is there and he's quick to pat her back and assure her that he's been keeping tabs on her and everything important in the realm. Though he never says it directly, Liila cannot help but feel that he is the reason so many know about her oath to the Archon, the reason that so many offered her places outside of the realm.

Blood is there, too, and he hoists Liila up by the waist and twirls her before Kosmas chastises him and tells him to take more care. He tells her that Inaar and Carroll will be by later, as much is happening at Courage.

With the wait to follow the Jailer drawing on, Courage has become the hub of activity within Bastion lately.

Liila is happy to see the transformation the temple has undergone in the last few weeks, and she can feel the quiet pride from Xandria that the temple is looking so well, that it is so active.

As it should be.

There are a few darker wings amid the disciples now, and Liila is curious to see them testing the bells and finding relief that their sound is not grating on their ears. Kosmas seems almost offended as he assures them that they did not send the ones that help with taking memories.

As much as Blood and Roberts enjoy talking with her, they do not stay nearly long enough, instead hurrying off on tasks they were already on, promising that they will be back to catch up later.

Stanikos and Kythekios notice Liila is wilting before she does, and they lead her over to a few crates to rest, out of the way of the bustle.

Liila pauses, looking Kythekios over. "So you're training at Courage?"

He grins. "Technically, I'm on my Rite of Wisdom, but I came back to help train the newer aspirants." His face falls for the first time, then. "We've lost too many people lately, and Courage needs all the instructors it can get."

"So you're going to teach how to throw a good punch?"

His smile comes back tenfold. "And a good kick here and there. I'm going to help people with unarmed combat, alongside Aspirant Thales."

"You know Thales?"

"I do! He's got an incredible grasp of balance and…" Kythekios goes on, cheerfully bragging about his fellow aspirant's martial prowess. In fact, he seems to be bolstering Thales image almost too much, when a familiar laugh interrupts him.

"This fool is trying to make me fail my Rite of Humility," Thales says from off to Liila's side.

As he trots over, she hops up despite the aches within her, and flings herself into his open arms. They saw each other at Adrestes' ceremony, but even so, it feels like it's been far too long since she saw him last.

He casts a quick spell over her and then catches her by the shoulders, examining her with a pointed frown. She is taller than he is. Just barely, but she's sure of it. While she is willing to marvel the oddity of it, his mind goes elsewhere. "I'm surprised they're moving you."

"I may be a poorly stitched together amalgamation of soul scraps," Liila begins, only for another laugh interrupt.

"You are most certainly not poorly stitched together," Xandria says, alighting with them and standing just enough out of the way that she can look to them and watch the unloading of the bells at the same time. "Vesiphone would be beside herself to hear you insult her mending thus." She pauses to give them a wink, to make sure they know she's joking. She gives them a moment before adding, "I hope you're not in any great hurry to get to Devotion, Maw Walker."

When Liila cocks her head, Thales puffs up, golden eyes shining. "I'm getting promoted to acolyte tomorrow, so you should stay! You can rest up, we can catch up, and then you can leave afterwards!"

"I'm going to be an acolyte, too," Kythekios exclaims, practically bouncing in place.

"Of course you'll want to stay to celebrate for the evening," Xandria says, as though it is a given.

"Oh, of course," Liila says. This feels suspiciously like it's been timed to give her a break, but she can't say she minds. Even doing as little as she has the last day and a half, she is still so worn down, and it makes her think of Eridia's plea for her to stay put.

It probably would have been wiser to do so.

But she's glad she's here, and she can feel that tug that tells her exactly where Adrestes is. With each passing minute, it has gotten a little stronger, and part of her does want to object to staying in Courage when she could be chasing that enticing draw.

Xandria gives her a faint smile, a knowing look. "We won't keep you too long, I promise." Even as Liila nods to her, grateful, her focus shifts. "However, I do believe that there is a class that is going to be starting shortly who is awaiting their instructor."

Kythekios jumps to his feet at that, offering a hasty salute. He pauses to nod to Liila and give her a quick, tight hug. "I wouldn't be here if not for you."

And then he is gone, hurrying off south from the courtyard.

Xandria dismisses herself, and Thales loops arms with Liila. "Shall I take you to your quarters?"

The walk is not terribly long, and it is fun to see the changes to the temple, to see how it has come to life, so to speak. They go to where the forsworn were hiding out in Courage and Liila cannot help but smile at the familiar faces she finds inside the aspirants' quarters. Some of them are the forsworn themselves. Hala is there, too, and she is quick to wave to Liila before falling back to work on the scroll she is still re-penning. Apparently, she's brought her work from Purity with her to Courage.

The building is similar to the post-cleansing chambers in Purity, though there are more mats, arranged neatly in two rows the length of the building. Beside each mat is a small floating bookshelf, and they hold different scrolls and tomes that their owners are reading, as well as a few trinkets or smaller weapons. There are weapons' racks at each end of the building, with polearms and swords and other larger weapons resting there.

As Liila wonders if the quarters here were always like this or if the weapons racks are a new security measure, Thales leads her to his mat and sets her few things down on the shelf. He eyes her bag a moment and then frowns. "You may need a bigger one of these."

"Oh?"

"Well, these are for you," Thales says, resting his hand on a small pile of scrolls that rests on his bookshelf. "I was going to send them to you, but when I heard you would be passing by, I figured I'd just give them to you myself." His smile is brilliant. He, like so many others, is excited with how the realm has managed to pull itself from its stagnation. He pulls one of the scrolls from its resting place and unfurls it, settling down on his mat and all but forcing her to do so as well so that she can see what he's showing her. Stanikos settles in on her other side, curious to listen as well. "Have you heard of Agthian anima weaving?"

"Eridia mentioned something about it," Liila says.

Thales looks a little disappointed to not be the one to tell her of the style, but he shakes it off quick enough. "Well, this was Xandria's idea, but from the sounds of it, Agthian weaving is very similar to shadow weaving, so I think you'll pick it up very quickly."

Liila skims some of the spells he's showing her, and she can certainly see the resemblance.

A part of her is itching to try one or two, just to see how well anima will answer her call, to see how smoothly it will feel to cast, but then there is still that pesky drought. And she does not have the anima to spare to cast herself. She can feel the tightness when she feels for it like she would her mana. It feels like how things can get at the end of a long battle, when she is trying to scrape enough mana together to throw a renew or two to people getting hit hard enough to need more than so simple a patch.

"If you have the theory down, then by the time you're cleared to actually cast, you'll be steps ahead of others learning the style."

They don't get far into the scroll, studying different aspects of the spells before they hear Thanikos' voice drawing closer. He's talking about living quarters and schedules for keeping the area looking nice.

As he stresses that such things will never be relegated strictly to stewards, he stops in the doorway. His eyes find her quickly and he gives her a quick smile before he motions to another familiar kyrian. An acolyte.

Ikaros stands a little taller as he takes over, wishing the Hand well. "There is plenty of room for everyone, and enough space that you'll have a bit of a choice as to where you lay your head for the next few eons."

As he walks the aspirants by, he gives Liila a small nod.

"Do I know everyone in this temple?" Liila asks, leaning toward Thales.

He snorts. "At this point, probably." He shakes his head. "And even if you don't, everyone here knows you."


The ceremony for the acolytes is almost as beautiful as Adrestes'. There is a somber note to it, of course, with Xandria speaking of those who have fallen, but she does not let it mar the evening, and the way she turns the mood around to one of joy for those taking another step on their journey is impressive.

There are a dozen aspirants who become acolytes, and Liila knows most of them. Three she met in Maldraxxus. One has a mechanical leg now, though when he spends the evening sparring with others, one would not know that he had lost anything. He is just as quick on his feet as ever.

Hipokos, Koa, and Kua are there, as well as Kynthia and Clora and Sophone, and it is good to catch up with all of them.

Blood, Roberts, Inaar, and Carroll are there as well, with a few other mortals present who have allied themselves with Bastion.

The evening wears on her after a while, and it is Kosmas who carries her back to her quarters, letting the rest of Courage continue their celebrations. He has just set her down at the entrance to the aspirant's quarters when one of the Courage disciples comes to ask him if he can do some last minute repairs to a few of their vespers—apparently they've had him flying around the past day helping to tune some of them.

He hesitates, but another aspirant steps forward and offers to keep Liila company in the meantime. He promises to be back quickly and takes to the air.

When Liila looks, she recognizes the aspirant as the one she rode to the temple with, and she smiles at her as the kyrian leads her through the building to where she's resting.

"You're not at the festivities?"

"If I'm honest, I left early because I was hoping to catch you. You seemed tired so I figured you'd be coming back sooner than later," she says.

Liila tilts her head. She is tired, but she can handle another conversation before passing out for the night. "What did you want to talk about, Aspirant…" And then realizes she can't remember their introductions. They did have those, didn't they? Her mind doesn't feel particularly fuzzy in that area, but considering how many memories are a little off, she can't rule out that they have been introduced. She tucks some of her hair back as she motions to her companion and laughs a little awkwardly. "I'm sorry, your name is escaping me right now."

"Oh, I…that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she says. She fidgets a little, suddenly self-conscious. "I've noticed that…well, people still call you by your old names and titles and…I know it's not everyone, but there's so many people who still call you Maw Walker or Dragonlily or… I know you're, well, you, so of course you would be different, but…" She fumbles another second or two, growing increasingly incoherent, before going quiet.

Liila watches her a moment and then sits down, patting her mat beside her. "What was your name in life?"

"Zuli." She breathes the word with a relieved fondness, like it is something she has been clinging to, something she has felt guilty to keep. "I've given up most of my past already, was happy to even, but I haven't been able to let go of my name."

"It's lovely."

"My mother wanted a daughter for so long," Zuli says. "She told my father the first time she was pregnant, 'You can name the boys, but if I have a girl, she will be Zuli.' And then the next time and the next…" She trails off, laughing. "I had three older brothers. My father was happy to have two children, but my mother kept insisting they try until they get a girl. She wanted her little Zuli." She smiles faintly at the memories. "They didn't know I would be a girl when I was born. They actually gave me a different name, and I had two younger brothers, too. But then when I was old enough to voice it, I told my mother I was a girl. I can still see the look on her face when she realized I wasn't playing some little game or just trying to make her happy. She got so excited. She laughed and said she'd had her Zuli right under her nose." Tears bead on her lashes as she laughs again. "My father was relieved, too. He said he didn't know how many more boys he could handle."

Liila laughs with her, watching the way Zuli's eyes sparkle as she tells the story. However, before she can say anything, her fellow aspirant's expression falls. "And then I came here. I understand being ascended means sacrifice, and I… I can do that, I can. It's just…" She picks at her nails as she talks, gaze downcast. "I just thought, maybe if you can stay the Dragonlily, I can stay Zuli?"

The words hit her hard because they come with a revelation, something that perhaps she should have already seen coming.

Throughout Liila's adventures, she has earned plenty of titles and nicknames. She learned to adapt to answering to whatever this or that faction referred to her as, with those within who grew closer to her always turning eventually from those fancy titles back to the name—her name—Liila. Her adventures have made her flexible with what she's called in more formal settings or by people who are more work associates than friends. Embrosia has felt like another name to tack onto her list. It never occurred to her, obvious as it should have been, that Embrosia is intended to replace her actual name, to become it.

Perhaps because there are so many people who still refer to her as Liila or Dragonlily or Maw Walker. Especially now that she's out of the Temple of Purity.

The idea of becoming solely Embrosia strikes her so suddenly, and makes her stomach twist.

"Have you asked someone about it?" Liila asks, grasping for a proper response. After all, her position was made quite clear. Even if she wants to help, wants to tell Zuli that of course she can keep her name, she doesn't have that authority.

And honestly, she never had that authority.

"Well, they say you're the Hand of the Archon, so—" It is then, as Liila winces at yet another title she has flippantly accepted without thinking of the repercussions, that what Liila said before seems to sink in, about how she is just another aspirant. Zuli pales. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine," Liila assures her.

"N-no, it's not fine. I shouldn't have bothered you with—"

"Zuli!" Liila says, tone firm enough to snap her fellow aspirant out of her panic. She blinks, half risen from where she's been sitting with Liila. Liila holds her hand out to her. "I can't promise for anyone else, but for as long as I'm Liila, I'll call you Zuli. Unless you tell me otherwise."

Zuli stares at her, wide-eyed, for an impossibly long moment before taking in a shaky breath, as though she might cry. She nods quickly, taking Liila's hand and clasping it firmly. "Thank you."

The words ring hollow, however, because they both know what neither will say.

Both of their names have an expiration date.


The mornings in Bastion never quite feel like mornings. There is no dew, there is no real dawn. It throws Liila every time. She feels like she's standing around in the middle of the day already, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes.

"A word?"

She turns her head and finds Xandria kneeling beside her, watching as a few odds and ends are tied to the pallets, items going to Hero's Rest and Wisdom.

Liila cocks her head, but nods. "If this is about the Agthian scrolls—"

"I told Thales to give them to you, so don't worry," Xandria says, smiling. "I am sure you will be an apt anima weaver, too, once you can weave."

"Thank you," Liila replies, brushing some of her hair back, a bit embarrassed. She feels a little like she's fished for that compliment, though a quick curl of comfort from Xandria assures her that she has not.

"I'd like to pick your memories," Xandria says. Even as Liila blinks, she offers a quick motion over her shoulder, toward the edges of the realm and beyond. "I'm planning another assault on the Maw. There's rumor that some of the Jailer's forces are going from the Maw directly to Zereth Mortis, which means there has to be a back way into the realm. I hope to find it."

Liila motions to herself. "How do my memories help with that?"

"You know the Maw as well as any of our mortal allies, probably better," Xandria says. "I want to see if maybe you saw something you didn't realize you were seeing. A gateway being built or summons rituals or…" she shakes her head. "Anything that might help."

"I'm happy to help," Liila says. "You've done so much for me. I can't ever hope to repay you—"

Xandria lets out a sharp laugh. "I'd say that's the other way around, Maw Walker."

She feels the wash of gratitude from Xandria, almost enough that it is overwhelming. It feels like thanks for a million little things, but they focus, hone on a few fleeting instances of maps for the Maw, and Liila realizes that she has helped Xandria, already. For the first time Liila actually feels like perhaps their bond is not so completely one sided. Obviously Xandria is holding her together, but she is glad that she can offer something back in return, even if it is minor.

Xandria reaches out and pats Liila's shoulder gently. "My temple stands because of you. I will not forget it." She is quiet a moment before adding, "And you should know: your Rite of Courage is passed."

Liila blinks, surprised, and then shakes her head. "But don't I have to demonstrate it after I've died? I haven't done much of anything since I died."

"You've done plenty," Xandria says, giving her a knowing look. "You came to us after your first death. As far as I'm concerned, everything you've done since returning to the Shadowlands counts, all the more because you were not trying to prove yourself. That's the trick of the Rite of Courage, you see. You have to demonstrate courage without the intention of proving yourself. And you do that quite well."

When Liila is at a loss for what to say, Xandria points a finger at her. "Now, you will still need to come back to me to train. Devotion will try to tell you that they have just as much martial prowess as Courage, but the truth is painfully obvious to anyone who pays attention." She offers a wink. "So I expect, when you are well enough, to see you back through these gates." After Liila nods, she echoes the motion. "And I will be careful not to be too nosy with your memories."

"Thank you, Xandria."

"And Maw Walker?"

"Yes?"

"I try to give you your privacy, but I felt your concern last night, loud and clear." Liila feels her stomach drop a little. Her talk with Zuli the night before is still with her, muting her feelings, making her feel numb.

"You know about that, then?"

"I know that the realm is changing," Xandria says, "And I know that Purity means well, but they may not come up with all of the obvious changes you want to see without a hint or two sent their way." When Liila tilts her head, confused, Xandria reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You'll always be Liila to me."

She feels the curl of fondness from the paragon as she smiles at her and then stands up. "That said, I believe it is time for you to go, if you can get through all the farewells. Give Adrestes and Kleia my regards."

Before Liila can fully process what has been said, before she can process the feelings tumbling through her, Xandria slips through the Veil and is gone.

She is still standing there, staring at the space where the paragon was when Thales' arm encircles her shoulders, tugging her out of her stupor. He is taller now that he is an acolyte, standing over a head above her, almost the same height difference between them now as before her death.

Once Kythekios and Ikaros and Hala and Zuli and Hipokos have said their goodbyes for now and her mortal friends have wished her well, Thales loops arms with Liila and walks to her to the pallet. Stanikos has already hopped up, and they help her sit on the edge of it and settle in to talk until her new caravan is ready to leave. Stanikos has been recruited to stay in Courage for a little while to help with a few of the aspirants settling in, but promises he will come to Devotion once he is finished here as he hops back down. Thales likewise promises to come visit her once she has had time to settle in, and that he still expects to soulbind with her again once she's up for it.

That reminds Liila of what the Archon said, before she swore her oath to the god, and she inspects Thales.

"How are your aches?"

He blinks at her and then laughs. "I assume you mean the ones from our little misadventure? They lasted maybe a week. I'm fine."

"Promise?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, my friend."

That is a relief, at least. She has worried, since her talk with the Archon, that Thales might be suffering because of her.

He tousles her hair as someone calls for everyone to prepare to move, and he helps her edge further onto the pallet, standing beside Stanikos as they wave goodbye.

Clora and Sophone join Liila and Kosmas on their trip north. The caravan is half the size it was before, with most of the pallets empty. Liila is the only aspirant to leave with it.

Kosmas rests on the pallet with her, now that there is plenty of space for him to do so.

The day goes by in a pleasant, sleepy blur. A few times, he gets up and stretches his wings, circling their caravan as he did before, flying up ahead to speak with the others. Clora and Sophone take turns alighting to talk to her. Their chats are brief, but friendly.

Now that she is out in the open, getting to catch up with more than one or two people a day, she feels so much…freer. It helps to sooth some of her anxieties.

Kosmas comes back to her after his latest round, when the realm has gotten as dark as it is going to. It is still brighter than the brightest nights on Azeroth, and she can see for miles in every direction as the fields of golden grasses reach out.

To the west, the world is getting a little hazy, and it takes her a minute to realize that it is not because she is tired.

"Anima fog," Kosmas says, fondly. When he notices Liila cock her head, he laughs. "I always hated it before, it makes it rather tricky to fly. But it's been so long since we had enough anima for a proper fog that I can't say I mind seeing it now."

"A sign that things are finally returning to how they were?" Liila offers.

"Things will never be as they were, but it's a sign that the realm is healing," Kosmas replies, watching as the haze slowly drifts closer. The other ascended with them alight on different pallets, resting on top of boxes, watching as the fog creeps nearer.

As it sweeps in, Liila watches Kosmas. He looks…content. More so than she thinks she's ever seen, and she wonders if it is because he is more expressive now or because she has learned to read kyrian body language over the last…year, almost.

Has it really only been a year?

Here at least. Back in Azeroth, it has only been a few months.

When he catches her watching him, he cocks his head. "Everything alright?"

"Just thinking," Liila says. She considers it a moment and then motions back the way they came. "You're not missing out on the discussions at Purity, are you?"

He shakes his head. "No. They're draining the unused pools right now, focusing that anima elsewhere." He pauses and adds, "And they're stopping the bells." When her brow arches, he shrugs. "Vesiphone wants to make sure the forsworn feel comfortable enough to come talk with us, and our vespers still have something of an affect on many of them."

"Are you going to Devotion to get them, then?"

"Well, I'm hoping I can persuade Nikolon to come back, in the least," he says as he nods. "I'm not the only one who misses him, and I think his voice would be important to have at the temple. He served there for so long, I find it hard to believe he doesn't want to come back."

As the fog reaches them, Kosmas moves a little closer so that he can still see Liila as they talk. She is surprised when he asks, "What do you think?"

"About?"

"Purity and any changes it may make."

Liila blinks, watching him to see if he is serious. Of course he is. She tilts her head one way and then the other. "I figured my opinion wouldn't be relevant, seeing as I'm so new to the realm."

Kosmas adjusts his wings, careful not to accidentally hit her with them, and then shrugs. "I'm not saying any changes you want will happen, but it doesn't hurt to know what you would do." He motions to himself. "It was so long ago that I don't remember much, but I remember that my Rite of Purity was brutal. I became a disciple of Purity with the hope that I could make sure no one ever went through so rough a transition. Most disciples of Purity became thus for that very reason. Nikolon included." When he speaks again, there is a tinge of sadness to his voice as he adds, "It turns out that it's rough for most everyone. It is hard to let go of the past. We all sought to make the process as painless as possible, but letting go will always hurt. We never forgot that and yet…"

"Maybe let people keep their names," Liila blurts out, thinking of Zuli. Thinking of herself.

She can see the surprise on his face, even through the thickening haze. He blinks at her and then arches his brow, letting the idea roll around in his head for a moment. "In the past, names were something we tried to have people let go of as early as possible. Names have power, and memories cling to them."

"I can see that," Liila murmurs, considering it. When she hears her name, she thinks of Haa'aji and of Timmons, of the million times a friend first called her that, of how it was a sign of closeness, of identity.

Kosmas nods. "Having a new name to go with a new form was a way to make sure the old name did not…cling for lack of a better word. It makes it easier to establish the point to which memories are shed. If you remember your old name in the memory, it must go. With your new name, that is something to keep, to cherish and build upon. Gaining a new form and new name has always been a rite of passage, a sign that one is taking that first step onto the Path."

It makes a sort of sense. If one must forget, then it would make sense to have as clean a break from the past as possible.

"Does the name Embrosia bother you?" Kosmas asks, even as the fog settles silently around them.

Liila's face twists as she considers how to answer that. "No and yes. I've been called plenty of things over the years and I like the chaos it adds, especially in the event that people meet up and talk about two people they know, but don't realize they're both me." Kosmas laughs and Liila can't help the grin that takes her as she thinks back to some of the chaos she's caused by simply introducing herself vaguely here and there. It slips as she thinks about Zuli again. And of Xandria's comments about Purity. "But I wouldn't want to be only Embrosia. No matter what other titles or monikers have been thrown at me, I can always come back to Liila Dragonlily. Beneath it all, that's who I am."

Kosmas leans against the side of the pallet as he considers what she's said, arms crossed and chin resting upon them. "So if you could change anything, you would keep your name."

"And let others keep theirs."

"Of course," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, even though it is muted by the fog. "Thank you for being honest with me."

She cannot help the smile that comes when he says that.

He starts to settle to watch for the end of the fog, but hesitates, leaning a bit closer to her again. "If I mess up, correct me. It has always been one of our duties at Purity to help people grow accustomed to their new names, so I imagine I will end up calling you Embrosia every now and then."

"I won't mind the occasional slip up."

"Still," he insists.

"I told you, I'll love it when someone I don't want to talk to asks for the Dragonlily and I can just shrug and say, 'I'm Embrosia'."

He rolls his eyes toward her and lightly nudges her with his elbow as she laughs.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the fog roll gently over them.

As she feels sleep coming up to claim her, she reaches out and lightly taps Kosmas' shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Maybe it could be optional?"

"Hmm?"

"New names, I mean," Liila says. "Bastion is steeped in tradition, yes?" When he nods, she continues, "So maybe don't throw it out completely. When someone completes their first cleansing and gains their new form, they can choose to take a new name or not. Or it could be an honorary thing."

"Well, we're not really supposed to tell the aspirants this," Kosmas begins and then shrugs, "but we're not sure that the first rite will remain as it is. We're not sure what we would do for a new rite, but if we are allowing memories to stay, then forcing someone to give one up to become kyrian doesn't align with that shift."

It is curious to see how much potential change is being considered.

"I'm told in the beginning," Kosmas says, voice rolling out around them, muted by the swirling anima around them, "the first kyrian became thus merely by swearing an oath. It was not until it was decided that memories must go that it became tradition to give on up to start the Path." He is quiet a moment before adding, "There are incredibly few ascended who remain from that time. Most perished in the fight against the Void or fell to other attacks or mishaps."

They are quite a moment, offering silence for the fallen that neither of them ever knew.

"Perhaps Bastion can return to its oath then, maybe all current ascended could take it as well to make it official. And newcomers could give their oath and be offered a new name," Liila says, finally. "I know some people who would welcome that, a chance to shed the past. It could be an offer that it can be done. And then you're not completely casting off Bastion's traditions." She muses over the idea. "Maybe it could be a last name or a middle name?"

"Liila Embrosia Dragonlily?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "It doesn't sound terrible."

"The little ones told me that middle names are only spoken when one is in terrible trouble," Kosmas says idly.

Liila laughs. "Then that sounds about right. If I hear Embrosia, I'll know I need to stop doing whatever I'm doing."

He laughs, too, and despite the fog, it rings out like a bell, each note warm and promising.


When Kleia lands, Kosmas is sitting under a tree near the road with Liila and another ascended. The latter sees her first and waves. She nods to him as she trots across the grass to where they are.

Liila is humming softly as she shows Kosmas how to weave a little crown out of the golden grasses. The ascended Kleia doesn't recognize has two sitting beside him already and is working on a third, while Kosmas is still on his first, brow pinched with concentration.

Clora came to Devotion the night before to let them know that Liila would be taking a little longer to arrive because she was having another episode. Adrestes had been ready to head out to her himself, but he had so much to do as it was. Kleia had assured him that she would take care of it, and had taken off before he could argue.

She hopes he's not too cross with her. After all, Pelagos will be able to let him know any updates.

More than that, though, she's relieved to see that Liila does not seem to be panicking or upset. She's heard about what happened at Purity—all the Hands have—and has been worried about how this trip might affect her.

When Kosmas notices Kleia's approach, and he excuses himself from Liila's company, motioning to Kleia as he hops up. Liila turns to look at her and offers a wave, her expression brightening when she sees Kleia.

Kosmas reaches her and offers her a faint smile. "You got here quickly."

"We were worried."

"Well, we're lucky," Kosmas says, voice hushed. "This last episode was a gentle one."

"It's already passed?"

Kosmas nods, smiling. "It has. I just wanted to make sure we rested for a while before picking up the journey."

When Kleia turns back to Liila, she finds that the aspirant is already on her feet, trotting toward them.

Kosmas waves her back. "We'll stay here tonight—"

"Really." It is more of a statement than a question, as Liila eyes the two of them. "Hoping they'll send out another search party?" Liila pauses and cocks her head, a half smirk forming as she says, "Or are you hoping to take advantage of the company you've already lured out?"

As Kleia asks what she means, she notices the dusting of blush on Kosmas' cheeks and then feels her own grow hotter. "I was not expecting anyone to come out for us," Kosmas murmurs softly, feathers fluffing for a fraction of a second.

That's all it takes for Kleia to notice. She cannot help the faint smile as Liila declares that her other warden is happy to keep an eye on her if they would like to go for a quick—or not so quick—flight. The other ascended murmurs that he is always happy to help.

However, there is something about him that makes Kleia pause a moment. When she realizes what is off, she does her best not to show any indication that she's caught on.

Kleia tries not to smile as she looks from Liila to Kosmas and back. "Thank you, but we're fine."

Despite another tease or two, Liila lets them be.

The evening is pleasant, with Bastion's eternal, gentle breeze slipping past them, and Liila falls asleep as the light dims for night. By then they are all wearing grass crowns and matching bracelets.

The ascended offers to look after Liila during a moment's quiet, as though he has taken to heart Liila's earlier teasing.

Or perhaps he can just feel the faint tension in the air, the longing that Kleia tries to pretend she doesn't feel to have a moment alone with Kosmas.

After a brief discussion, they decide to go for a short flight after all.

They alight by a small tree standing alone in the field, far enough away that the road is hidden by the grasses. If not for a road sign, it might seem like they had left it completely behind.

They walk then, close enough that their feathers almost brush time and time again. They talk about light topics, about the progress the realm is making and how each of their temples are moving forward. He tells her that he plans on visiting Humility in the near future, if she would like to make the trip with him.

"I'd like that," Kleia says softly, feeling glimmerflies in her stomach. She looks down, as they walk, watching the grasses bend under her boots. "I must admit, I miss you in Devotion. I imagine you won't be by for a while, now that you've got the bells figured out."

"Well, I was talking to Vesiphone about whether she might need a courier or two to help with keeping the rest of the realm up to date with any changes we are considering."

Kleia tilts her head as she watches him. "What did she say?"

"She said I was hopeless," he says, laughing awkwardly. "That and that should she need messages sent to Devotion, I would be her first pick."

He is blushing again as he glances to her, as though waiting to see if she will approve or not.

"Good," Kleia replies, smile widening. "I hope she has a lot to say."

His laugh is rich and deep, and as they walk, he lets his feathers brush against hers, ever so slightly. She shivers at the touch, and she is sure that when he moves away, she can still feel him, or at least something.

A connection, impossibly faint, but begging to be pursued.

It sends a thrill through her, and she stops in her tracks, a little awed at the feeling.

Kosmas is a step or two ahead of her before he notices that she has stopped, and he turns back. His brow pinches and suddenly his usual confidence starts to crumble. "If I have overstepped—"

Kleia steps closer and kisses his cheek. There is definitely something there. She's sure of it, especially as she thinks about what the Archon told her about soulmates. About how some are not so obvious, some allow themselves to be found over time.

Kosmas' eyes are wide as he watches Kleia rock back from her toes to stand before him before a smile slowly stretches his lips as his fingertips come up to brush the skin she has kissed. His eyes shine and he leans forward and returns the kiss to her cheek.

They stand there, then, feathers partially fluffed and cheeks flushed, unsure what to do now.

When she glances to her side, Kleia can just barely see Liila and the ascended back by the road. She ducks her head a moment, trying not to forget her duties. "We should probably get back. Liila doesn't need half this long to get into trouble, and that ascended we left her with…"

"Isn't an ascended at all," Kosmas finishes.

Kleia shakes her head. "A mortal?" When Kosmas nods, she looks back the way they came. "Do you know which one?"

"I'd say her favorite, if I had to guess from the way she perked up when she first saw him."

Kleia tilts her head at that. "Do you think we should give them longer to catch up, then?"

Kosmas grins. "A little longer wouldn't hurt."

"How do you think he made himself look like that?"

"I have been trying to figure that out since he showed up, shortly after the others left us behind," Kosmas laughs again. "He showed up, his movements a bit too stiff, and said he was to told to stay with me, that when we started moving again, it would be important to have someone control the pallet and someone watch our charge." He's quiet a moment before adding, "I'm honestly surprised. I'd have thought we would have a lot more mortal company on our journey. We'd sort of planned for it. That they've let us be is…odd."

"Well, we've had a bunch of people show up at Devotion, thinking she would already be there," Kleia says, trying not to laugh. "I know Lash frowned quite pointedly when we told him that she was still at Courage. Mitchell threw something. So if I had to guess, they're on their way."

"I wonder if we should wait for them," Kosmas says. He is looking back toward Liila and Haa'aji.

"Do you think she can handle it?"

At that, Kosmas narrows his eyes, mulling it over. Then he sighs. "We'll leave in the morning. If they can't catch up by then, that's on them." As Kleia nods, he hops into the air and motions for her to follow. "In the meantime, I'm wondering if you have ever sat o the anima pathways."

"The pathways?" Kleia asks. She looks up and sees one of the anima streams winding overhead. "You know, when I was an aspirant, I'd always wanted to sit on one, but then I got my wings and just…forgot. There's been so much going on."

Kosmas motions to a nearby gateway that the anima stream passes through. "No time like the present."

Kleia feels her cheeks flush as she joins him in the air. They fly up to it easily, and Kleia is relieved that a quick glance lets them see Liila and Haa'aji, who are laying in the grasses near where they left them, watching the sky. She lets her gaze wander, over the plains, over the anima stream, the clouds. When she looks to her side, she finds that Kosmas' attention has been elsewhere. He leans forward, resting his elbows against his knees as he watches her, smile in place.

Kleia laughs awkwardly. "Do you come here often?"

"You know, I don't think I've ever sat on this one," he replies, daring to look around for a moment. "There's one near Purity that I usually come out to when I need a moment's respite."

"You'll have to show me some time."

"It's a promise," he says, holding out his hand to her. When she takes it, he pulls hers close enough to kiss her knuckles.

Kleia's feathers fluff, and she doesn't both to school them, letting her contentment pool inside of her. There is going to be a lot to do in the coming weeks and months and eons, assuming reality is not unmade, but at least here and now, in this moment, everything feels perfect.


Eight days after Liila left Purity, she arrives in Wisdom. Kosmas kept her in place for a little over a day after her last episode, and though he says it is to make sure a worse one wasn't going to follow on its heels, she is convinced that he just wanted the time to flirt and hold hands with Kleia.

Because they did.

Hold hands.

It was adorable.

Even Haa'aji had to agree that they were a cute couple, though he was irritated the whole time.

Kleia did not stay too long with them on the journey, instead flying back the next morning, taking a more direct route to Devotion while they stuck to the road.

Haa'aji stayed with her until Wisdom.

The math has been done, finally, and one hour on Azeroth equates to roughly seven in the Shadowlands. So to stay here for a day is little more than going out for the afternoon there. Haa'aji had originally intended to stay until they reached Devotion, but the trip has wound long, and he ducks out when Arios starts asking just what temple he's from.

Liila suspects that the Hand knows Haa'aji is not really ascended, but he is kind enough to warn him with feigned ignorance instead of getting him in trouble.

Though he abandons his ascended disguise quickly, Haa'aji makes sure that she is settled in at the small haven in the southern reaches of Wisdom before heading back home. It has been good to be able to catch up with him. He has taken her latest letter to their children with him, and given her a few to read herself.

When she asked him about the ascended's letter she'd kept, he had merely grunted at her and said he made sure any and all letters he received got to where they were meant to be. She hadn't been able to get him to be more specific, and she worries a little about what has happened to it.

As she frets, she feels the brush of Xandria's soul against hers and suddenly she can see the ascended she found in the mud, a memory of her alive and well, laughing and jostling another ascended playfully. And then she sees a list of names, with one that stands out.

Nomori, Disciple of Courage.

For Xandria to know about the letter, to know who wrote it, even…

It seems Haa'aji really did make sure the letter got to where it needed to be.

After saying goodbye to Haa'aji, Liila finds herself experiencing a sort of changing of the guard. First, Arios takes the time to inspect her, examining how her healing is going and making an approving click with his tongue before saying that Adrestes is relieved to know she is still in one piece.

When he leaves her, suggesting that she stay with them for the night, she finds Pelagos waiting to tug her into a tight hug. Nikolon is with him, as well as a few other forsworn. After a short talk which ends with Kosmas pulling Nikolon in for a hug, too, Kosmas turns to Pelagos and offers him a nod of his head. "I trust she will be safe in your care, Acolyte Pelagos."

"I'm not an acolyte just yet," he objects, smiling despite himself. He salutes. "I will keep her safe, though."

Kosmas smiles at him and then looks at Liila. "Rest well, Aspirant Liila."

She cannot help the way she perks up when she hears him call her by her name. Nikolon seems curious himself, though the words they exchange are far too soft for Liila to hear before they head to the nearest anima gateway.

When they are gone, Liila eyes Pelagos. "Acolyte, hmm?"

"I'm to be one," he replies, standing a little taller. "Adrestes is working on gathering the materials for a proper ceremony and then a few of us are going to be elevated."

She loops her arm with his, noting that, like Thales before he was made acolyte, she is a little taller than him. "I'm glad I'll be there to see it, then."

"Me, too," Pelagos says, relief washing through him as he leads her to a quiet corner. "I think you'll like what we've done with Devotion."


They stay in Wisdom for two days. Despite the eagerness to follow that ethereal draw to its end, to fling herself into Adrestes' arms and curl up with him and distract him from all the terribly important work he has, Liila finds that once again so much travel has worn on her. It is embarrassing, really. Before, she could go for days, riding hard on skeletal horses or mostly feral beasts.

Now, even lounging on a pallet seems to take so much out of her.

She again thinks of what Eridia said about how she should rest.

And she again considers that it's far too late to concede that she really should have stayed put.

Besides, things are going smoothly enough, and she'll have time to really recoup once she's made it to her lover's side.

On her first evening in Wisdom, Lash finds her. He regales her with a dramatic retelling of all the places he's been, looking for her. From Purity to Devotion to Courage to Hero's Rest to here, always arriving just a hair too late. He'd heard from those at Hero's Rest that her caravan had passed them already, and had ridden after them, hoping to catch them on the road.

When he tells her he'll be heading to the Maw shortly on a soul run with some others, she asks him to stop by Courage and talk to Xandria about her planned assault on the realm. He nods and grins.

And tells her that the four main realms have been keeping the pressure on the Maw, rotating their assaults and sometimes doing joint campaigns. The mawsworn have known no peace, and no one intends to let them have any until all the souls wrongfully sent to the Maw can be saved.

Liila wonders how long that will take, and is surprised when Lash tells her that a few of the smaller realms have joined in the recovery efforts. And then he holds up a finger and pulls a letter from his bags. "This is for you. They couldn't stay, or come by on their own, but they wanted you to have this."

Even as Liila arches her brow, she takes the note and immediately recognizes the handwriting on the paper.

She nearly tears it unfolding it, her hands trembling.

Lok'tar Dragonlily,

We are assisting with recovery efforts in the Maw, holding the grounds that have been reclaimed in Korthia, and helping souls who come to our realm to wait until they can be judged. We are lucky in that the devourers have not reached our realm, and the drought did not hit us hard.

I hope we may yet be able to cross paths, but your realm has been explained to me, and I imagine it might be awkward if myself and others come there seeking the ones we miss. Nevertheless, I hope our paths may cross again, and I will be glad to see you and know you are well, even if you do not remember me by the time that happens.

Gore sends his regards and wants you to know that he is proud of you. We are both proud.

-Sham

P.S. Mitchell says you blame yourself for what happened on the Broken Shore. Our fates were not your fault. Gore worried for years that he was going to live long enough to not be able to heft an axe anymore, that his warrior's death would escape him. We are proud of the lives we lived and the way we went. I hope you can say the same. If nothing else, we are proud of you. Falling in battle against a god! I could not imagine you falling to anything else. I look forward to hearing about how your story continues here, in the Shadowlands, and I hope that at least some of those tales may come from you.

"What's wrong?" Pelagos asks, moving closer to her and daring to glance down at the paper, though he is clearly hesitant to read it.

"My aunt and uncle said hi," Lash says, and Liila finds herself laughing as she nods.

The rest of the evening is spent talking about Sham and Gore and all the adventures and mishaps that Impervious had through the years. Lash keeps her company until she falls asleep, enjoying the memories himself. She knows that he has missed them as well. They were parents to him after his had fallen in battel when he was a babe.

Words cannot say how glad she is to know that their corner of the Shadowlands is safe.

At least for now.

On the morning of the second day, two familiar faces show up to escort her and Pelagos the rest of the way to Devotion.

When Pallessa alights in front of them, Liila almost forgets her aches altogether as she darts forward to catch Pallessa's hands in excitement. "You got your wings!"

Pallessa's smile is radiant as she nods and hops back enough to do a small twirl without hitting Liila with her wings. As she twirls, Achillon lands beside Liila, beaming as he watches his soulbind and soulmate. "We redid our final rite," he says, motioning to Pallessa and then to his own wings. "This time, we earned our wings together."

Now that she looks at his feathers, she can see that they are different. Rather than the slowly lightening grays he had before, his wings are mostly white, with darker blue and gray speckles down the feathers. Pallessa's wings have similar, lighter blue speckles along her feathers.

They almost match Achillon's placement, too.

Though Liila considers pointing out that Pallessa had finished her final rite last time without issue, she decides against it. The two of them seem happy now. There is still a little bit of a reservation in the way Pallessa moves toward him, but he does not seem to see it, instead reaching out to clasp her hand, brush his fingertips against her shoulder, a million little touches that say he is there and he is with her.

A million little touches to assure himself that she is with him.

Perhaps he is more aware of how precarious their bond still is after all.

Pelagos smiles and leans over to Liila. "They've changed the final rite—for now. It will probably be back to normal by the time we get there, but for now, you have to ferry a soul to a realm that will hold them until they can be properly judged."

"Good." Liila cannot help but smile at the idea that preparations are being made as though there will be a new Arbiter. After all, she has been told that the Jailer once held that title, so surely if he could be replaced once, it can happen again. "Are souls still going to the Maw?"

"There might be a few Bearers who haven't heard of the redirections yet," Achillon answers, "but we're doing our best to catch them as they approach Oribos and let them know of the changes."

Liila tilts her head. "Is it affecting how quickly souls can be gathered?"

"A little, from what we've heard" Pallessa says. "All resting Bearers have been called to duty, as well as any disciples in Humility and Wisdom who can be spared, and many collectors. The infighting alone has made it hard to get people out to relieve the Watchers who are due back to the realm as it is, but at least ascension ceremonies are back on track."

"A fast track," Achillon corrects.

"We'll still be helping around the realm, though," Pallessa says.

"And most of our free hands are going to either the Eternal Forge or the Mnemonic Locus to repair the damage done, and see what can be salvaged," Achillon says before adding, "We'll make sure you're settled in in Devotion before we go anywhere, though."

He is almost a different person when he talks now, and Liila can hardly wrap her head around it as she thinks back to the stoic ascended who asked her to watch over Pallessa and this cheerful, fawning creature before her now.

Pallessa smiles when she notices Liila's attention. "We'll be escorting you the rest of the way."

"We're going by larion," Pelagos explains, helping Liila gather her things and then heading toward the nearby larion master.

As they walk, Pallessa produces a small notebook—small for her ascended hands, anyway—and offers it to Liila. "When we were working on the purification spells, I took notes on how our healing spells were structured differently and what bits I had to replace to be able to channel yours effectively. I thought this might help you transition your spell sect, so that you don't have to struggle with figuring out the differences on your own."

Liila takes the notes and skims them, brow arching as she looks at the changes. They are fairly simple, mostly altering the base of the spells so that they draw on anima instead of the Light. She has tampered with her own spells to an extent, and recognizes some of the changes as mirroring her own.

She thanks Pallessa as they reach Pelagos' larion, who is already saddled and waiting for them. Liila tucks her letter from Sham into the book Pallessa gave her. Pelagos already has her bag of scrolls on hand. They mount up and take off, with Pallessa and Achillon flying over and beside them, occasionally flitting up and off, chasing one another playfully before coming back to make certain that Pelagos and Liila are on course.

When Liila glances back at Pelagos, she notices the way he is watching the others, a quiet longing on his face that he quickly hides when he notices her attention.

She tries once to tell him he'll have his own wings soon enough, but they are going too quickly, and the wind snatches her words.

Surely, he knows.


"They're here," Nebi says, and when Adrestes turns to look at her, he finds a coy smile in place as she flits up higher so that she is eye level. "I imagine you will wish to greet our newest arrival to the temple, yes? It is only proper."

When Adrestes frowns, she laughs. He cannot hold it for long.

He has been feeling that tug grow stronger, and it has been distracting him more and more the closer Liila draws. Now, it all but feels like a rope that extends from his very being and is being pulled tighter and tighter, urging him to follow it to its end.

He has been fighting the urge to go to Wisdom to get her himself, instead trying to maintain his focus on the important tasks at hand.

However, now, he can see that Kleia is already packing away the scrolls she has been taking notes on, and that the handful of other disciples with him today are already up. Wings stretch and flap, arms reach up over heads, fingers laced.

Everyone has assumed that this will be the end of today's session, and while he does not like how readily they assume he will set everything aside to go running to his soulmate, he does appreciate it on some level.

He dismisses his disciples formally—it has been a bit of a feat appointing disciples in truth, making sure that those who did the most damage to the realm are not rewarded while allowing those who have done some minor indiscretions a chance to atone through service—and he hasn't gotten to appointing acolytes just yet.

Pelagos will obviously be one—he has demonstrated a devotion to their cause and charges like no one else—and Adrestes has toyed with the idea of asking Liila to be an acolyte as well, once she is well enough to take on the responsibilities that come with it.

He can think of none more devoted than she, after all, even if her devotion can get her into a bit of trouble.

Adrestes and Kleia arrive in the main foyer in time to see Pelagos leading his larion over to the stables near the entrance while Pallessa and Achillon talk to Liila nearby.

She is already looking his way, a quiet smile in place before she glances back at Achillon. Whatever he's saying has both Pallessa and Liila shaking their heads.

Kleia lands before he does, feet touching a few steps shy of Liila. She rushes forward to catch her in a hug. As Kleia steps back, Adrestes can hear Liila exclaim, "You know, I didn't realize before, but you're taller, too!" Kleia laughs and says she doesn't think so, but Liila is adamant. "Thales, Pallessa, you." She tosses her hands in the air with mock exasperation, play scowling when she sees Adrestes. "And don't even get me started on you."

Adrestes kneels before her, his grin crooked. "I suppose I did get a slight height boost."

"You were just worried I was going to reach higher than your kneecap," Liila mutters as he reaches out and gingerly brushes a finger against her cheek.

"You already reached higher than my kneecap," he teases. He tilts his head, relieved to feel that thrum of energy between them, and cannot help but notice the way Liila leans into his touch, eyes closing briefly. She looks tired.

A worn soul.

But she is already doing so much better than the last time he saw her, and he is glad to think that he will be able to keep her near and keep her safe himself. He does not doubt Vesiphone's capabilities, but having Liila within reach is so much…better.

Perhaps he is just being selfish.

But surely the Archon would not have approved her transfer to his temple if she felt it was not in Liila's best interest.

He lifts her to his shoulder and she sits there, his wing a good cushion to her back, though he keeps a hand near her, in case she slips. He walks slow enough that Pelagos and Kleia can keep up with him. Pallessa and Achillon wish Liila well before returning to the command center for soul redirection. Pallessa has been a quick mind and a good addition to Nebi's ranks, and she's glad to have her on hand, especially since Thenios has given them full control of the operation while he sorts soul shards.

It is good to see the realm slowly finding ways to fit back together. Though it hasn't even been a full year since the rebellion came to light, the seeds of dissent have been festering for a proper eon, and Adrestes hopes that the work they are doing now will foster a healthier environment for the future.

"There are so many feather variations here," Liila comments, a whisper in his ear.

It's true.

Very few of the former forsworn still have solid black wings. Now they have various shades of grays or stripes or speckles and spots. Some are blues, some blacks. Even the newly ascended have variations to their wings.

And he's noticed that other ascended, ones who have had their wings for eons, are starting to notice alterations. Flares of blue that run along the rachis or a light dusting of color on their coverts.

Thenios has been musing over what the realm will look like in a century, and Adrestes has to say he's interested to see how these changes will go.

He inclines his head toward Liila, and the movement captures her attention. "There's a certain charm to them, I think." As she nods, he cannot help but smile. "I wonder what yours will look like."

"We won't know that for a long time," Liila murmurs.

"You never know," Adrestes says, offhandedly. When she arches her brow, he gives her a half smile. "You do have a way of getting things done with an impossible efficiency."

Liila shakes her head at that. "People will think you lot are playing favorites."

He just laughs and ducks his head closer to her, whispering low enough that no one else can hear. "You are my favorite."

Her smile is radiant.


Liila lounges by a quiet pool in the corner of the temple, watching a few small glimmerflies flit over the water. Her head rests in Adrestes' lap. He has taken his aspirant form to spend some time with her, and his fingers run lazily through her hair as his bare feet rest in the water. She trails her own fingers against the surface.

"I won't have time to do this often," he says softly, fingers brushing over her shoulder as he plays with her hair.

"I'm surprised you have time now," Liila admits. "I rather thought I'd get to wave at you on the way to being stuffed into some little corner to stay out of the way while I mend."

"I would never stuff you into any corner," Adrestes replies, and she can hear the note of displeasure in his voice at the mere idea.

"He said as he sat with me in some little corner."

He lets out an annoyed hum. "I always found a certain serenity here when I was a disciple of Loyalty, so I thought you might like it, too."

Liila sits up at that, watching him. "I'm teasing you, you know." She reaches out and runs her fingers from his hairline down to trace his jaw. He catches her hand and holds it against his cheek for a moment before she leans forward and kisses him, the barest brush of lips against lips.

He pulls her into his lap and deepens their kiss, holding her close against him as her arms find their way around his neck.

When he pulls away, he tugs her closer, and she rests her head on his shoulder. "I know you felt Vesiphone tucked you away, even though she thought she was keeping you in a nice open space, with plenty of company."

"I was trapped," Liila grumbles, only to sigh when Adrestes doesn't understand. She thinks of what Eridia told her, a little over a week ago, though it seems like it has been so much longer. "It doesn't matter how nice a place is if you can't leave it."

"That was a problem many of the forsworn aspirants had, too," Adrestes says, leaning his head against hers. "They looked at the realm as a place they would have to wait in forever, never able to ascend, never able to go elsewhere. Caught in a 'nice' place where they didn't think they could ever belong."

"Do they still feel that way?"

"Some do," Adrestes says quietly. "I have promised them that when it is possible, they may go to be rejudged, but that even if they did leave now, it would just be to wait in another realm for their actual eternity. They are, at least for now, content to stay here. I hope they can find a place here, though, without needing to be sent away."

"I hope they can end up somewhere that makes them happy," Liila says, "Here or elsewhere, I hope they can be happy."

He is quiet as he considers that, and Liila plays with his tunic idly, still curled against him.

The glimmerflies skim the water, sending ripples across it, and little birds chirp from the large flowers that hang over the water as the light dances around them. It is so…peaceful.

"I can see why you like this place," Liila murmurs.

"Not too much of a corner for you?"

"Not when I can get up and walk away," she says, and then slips her arms around him and hugs him tightly, "and not when you're here with me."

"I won't always have time for this," he repeats his words from before as he lightly drums his fingers against her thigh. "But if you need me, to make things more bearable or just to sit with you for a while, I will find the time for that."

Liila reaches out and catches his hand, lacing her fingers with his and holding it, her thumb stroking his skin as she revels in that thrum of energy that connects them. That invisible thread of fate. "That goes for you, too," she says, and lifts her head to watch him. "I may not have the same duties and responsibilities, but if you need me, you'll be my top priority."

With a genuine smile that crinkles the skin around his eyes, he pulls her hand to his lips and presses a kiss there before moving to kiss her cheek and then her mouth. "Thank you, my love."

His words make her giddy, and she snuggles closer to him, her head in the crook of his neck. He laughs softly, abruptly letting himself fall back and drawing her with him.

It only takes her a moment to wriggle into a more comfortable position, half on top of him. "So what's it like to be a paragon?"

He arches his brow, fingers finding their way back into her hair as he mulls over how to answer her question.

"It is hard to explain," he begins, letting his gaze search the world overhead for an answer. The rock walls of the temple stretch up toward the heavens, and only the tiniest patch of sky is visible to them from where they lay. "My senses are sharper. I can see patterns in behavior more readily than I could." He hesitates, looking at her. "I remember little details far better than I could. I was always good with the minutia, but now… I think becoming a paragon enhances the skills you already have." As Liila supposes that that makes sense, he grins at her. "You would be an impressive paragon."

"What makes you say that? Is someone retiring?" Liila asks, and he laughs.

"No, I was just considering your talents." His fingers curl in her hair. "Not that you need to be a paragon to be impressive."

"Flirt."

He shakes his head and then kisses her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispers back.

Silence settles in on them again briefly before he says, "Liila, there's something I wanted to ask you about."

"Ask away."

He hesitates and then sits up, shifting so that he can look at her. She follows suit, sitting opposite him. He starts to take her hands in his and then stops himself, as though he is unsure. As though he is hesitant to trap her in the conversation. "I still have my memories of Amaeria."

Liila cannot help but narrow her eyes as she watches him, suddenly having a feeling she understands why he is speaking so carefully. "You want to keep them."

"Not if you don't want me to."

"Don't make that my decision," Liila replies, tone a bit clipped. She doesn't mean to sound as cross as she does, and she sighs, forcing her tone to soften. "They're your memories, polemar—paragon. If you want them, keep them. Just don't expect me to be her."

He is quiet a moment then, before holding out his hands, palms up. "I just keep thinking that if you do have any of those memories come back, you might be disappointed if I cannot reminisce with you."

Liila almost dismisses his concern by saying if she remembers anything of Amaeria, she'll just get rid of it. Better the past stay gone.

But the truth is she does have those little flashes. She brought them up to Kosmas, once, and he had suggested that she let Vesiphone peer into her memories and see what is left, that the paragon could likely tell her what is likely to resurface versus what will only ever be an echo at best.

She did not mention it to Vesiphone, though she's sure that Kosmas has, if only because Vesiphone told her once that she will never be Amaeria again, not in any substantial way. Some of the memories may come back, often times they will feel so familiar, they will fit with her so perfectly, but it will not be like who Liila is now will disappear.

Not once her mind has fully mended anyway.

And even now, while she is healing, any 'glimpses' of Amaeria will just be fleeting as her memories and mind settles back into place. And that version of Amaeria will have so many holes in her that she will just be pitiful and frightened, like what Haa'aji told her she was. He was not there, of course, but he heard the whispers, and he found the notets detailing what had happened. He told her that Amaeria was nothing but a terrified whisper of a person, more fear than anything else because so much of her is gone.

Amaeria is gone.

It is as Liila has always said. Her past died to the Scourge.

But some of the memories do linger, like ghosts, or like those twists of souls in the Maw, fragments that have been abandoned by a weak soul as it fell apart to escape its fate.

She has remembered bits of conversation with Adrestes, a few walks with Ikaros, a few odds and ends that still make her uneasy. Whispers of a time before Liila Dragonlily existed.

But knowing what they are makes them less frightening, and hearing that Amaeria is not lurking in her subconscious, waiting to retake her body and her afterlife after Liila put in all the hard work for…

Though, the hard work done to get her to this place was Amaeria's and not her own, wasn't it?

Regardless, knowing that her past will never be more than the faintest of echoes has done a lot to ease her nerves.

And that makes her not shy away from those memories like she did before when they come creeping back.

"I remember the first time you told me about Revendreth," Liila says quietly.

Adrestes blinks, surprised. And then he tilts his head. "I had always wondered who it was that you thought would go there before finding a way to a kinder afterlife."

"You've met him," Liila murmurs.

Jaserisk Dawningblade.

The bastard who gave her to her tormentor, all those years ago. The one who sealed her fate to save himself.

"You wanted him to find peace somewhere."

"I don't remember that," Liila says, and her voice is again harsher than she means it to be. As he offers her a small nod, she catches his hands before he can withdraw them. "But I do remember the way you teased me about how it wasn't an ascended's job to judge souls." She squeezes his hands gently. "And I like that memory."

"I like it, too." He offers her a half smile. "You were so indignant."

"I had a point," Liila says quickly. "I wasn't ascended yet. I'm still not. I can be as judgmental as I want to be."

He laughs then, pulling one of her hands to his lips to press a kiss there. He holds her gaze while he does so.

"What?"

"I was just thinking how glad I am that you're you, Liila Dragonlily." He pauses a second before adding, "Amaeria never would have said that."

Liila can't help but feel a pleased curl in her chest as she sits a little straighter. "Of course not. She was miserably nice and considerate."

He simply shakes his head. "I adore you."

Liila cannot help but grin at him. "Would you say you're…devoted?"

"Are you trying to tell me I'm in for an eternity of bad puns?"

"Well, I figure I have to get a few in before you've heard them all."

He abruptly tugs her to him, turning her and lifting one arm over her head as he does so that her back is against his chest. "I look forward to hearing what you come up with."

"Good."

She considers asking him if he's decided to keep his memories, but he beats her to it. "Once Purity is up and running again, I'll see about cleansing some of the memories. I might hold on to a few, though."

"Just a few?"

"Ones that we both have," he says quietly. "I don't need the rest."

"You don't have to get rid of them because of me," Liila says quietly. "If they make you happy—"

"You make me happy," he replies, and kisses her shoulder. "That's all I need."

She is about to say something else when they hear a loud clang in the distance and a few startled cries. Adrestes head rests against her shoulder for a split second before he sighs and untangles himself from her, rising to his feet. "I'd better see what's happened."

"Gods' speed," Liila teases. "Or perhaps just a paragon's."

He rolls his eyes toward her, pausing with his hand outstretched to help her up. "Liila."

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure this needs to be said, but please don't tell the other aspirants that I can take this form. It will make it harder to wander the temple grounds to assess morale."

She appraises him quickly before taking his hand and rising with him. "Alright, but you know that a bunch of mortals know that you can do that. So a lot of people probably already know."

"You'd be surprised," he says, taking a few steps back from her to peer out into the commons beyond. "Just because a mortal says I can do something, doesn't mean the aspirants believe them."

"Fair enough," Liila says. She grins when he kneels. In a blink, he is in his paragon's form again. He takes up most of the area that felt fairly spacious only seconds ago. "But if you hear that I've been running around behind your back with some aspirant…"

One of his fingers brushes against her cheek as he gives her a smile. "Don't worry, I think I'll have an idea of who the aspirant is."

"Pelagos," Liila says, and grins when Adrestes gives her a playfully sour look. "You'd better get going, lover."

He shakes his head and motions for her to head toward the commons herself before he disappears through the Veil. In a second, she hears him asking what happened and half a dozen voices offering quick explanations.

As she steps into the open, she sees Adrestes kneeling with some of his aspirants, former forsworn and regular kyrian alike. She watches him fondly, noting the way he glances toward her once, lips quirking up faintly before he is refocused on the task at hand.

Pelagos sidles up next to her, watching Adrestes as well. "He's going to be an amazing paragon."

Liila cannot help but stand a little prouder as she gives Pelagos a hum of agreement. "He already is."

"Come on then," Pelagos offers her a hand. "Let me show you around. We're to be roommates, after all."

"Oh?"

As Liila follows Pelagos through the temple, she cannot help but think that perhaps an eternity here will not be so bad, after all.