Liila's time in Devotion has been a welcome, calming change to the whirl of chaos that has always seemed to permeate her life. She has settled into routines that she does not mind, is around friends she loves dearly, and she gets to play host to many a mortal who comes by to visit.

In that time, she has had a total of seven lapses, with three being particularly troublesome.

They are getting better, though, and she remembers most of them now. She remembers not knowing who or where she was when she was at Purity, remembers trying to escape through the only means she could think of, having forgotten her curse. She remembers Vesiphone's fingers curling around her throat to block her from cutting herself, of feeling Vesiphone's blood on her collarbone before she blacked out.

She remembers answering to Amaeria.

That was the worst of her lapses, by far, and it is something Liila wishes she could forget. If only she were well enough to. She doesn't like to think she can lose herself again, become as little as she was, as empty as she was.

Vesiphone has assured her time and again that remembering is a good sign. It is a sign that her mind is settling enough to fill in gaps without getting lost in them. She comes by once every week to check on Liila's progress and make sure she is mending as she should.

The first time she came by, it was not only to check on her, but also to ask her about the whole name issue, as Disciple Kosmas had brought it to her attention as he had said he would. They had discussed it at length, the importance of names, the significance of them. Liila suggested that perhaps bearers going back to one's world might not be so bad, that the newly deceased might be more willing to go with souls who can relate to them, with souls who bear names from their worlds.

She is not sure she sold Vesiphone on that, but Vesiphone did tell her on her second checkup that they're deciding to let people choose their names, the old or the new. Names will still be allotted to each new aspirant. If an aspirant chooses not to take their kyrian moniker, however, the name will be retired, on the chance that they may change their mind at some point, or that they might incorporate it as a surname or middle name, if they so choose.

The keeping of one's name has been something that has been much celebrated at Devotion, with dozens of aspirants happily reclaiming their old names, and even a couple ascended doing the same. Liila was sure to send a message to Zuli as soon as she heard the news, and her response came in person, with Zuli staying in Devotion a few days to celebrate with the rest of them. When she left, she turned to Liila, leaned in and whispered, "For someone who's not the Hand of the Archon, you certainly get results."

That has made Liila wonder.

The next time she sees Adrestes, she puts voice to her curiosity when he tells her to speak freely, even though Disciple Tia is there visiting with them. She asks, "Is there anyone who speaks for the aspirants?"

When both arch their brows and cock their heads, Liila motions vaguely about, "I think maybe it would help if there were speakers for the aspirants, maybe one per temple? A head acolyte? Someone who can bring issues aspirants are having to the higher ups, so that it's not so daunting to bring up problems to begin with."

"It's easier to talk to someone on your level," Adrestes says, considering it.

Disciple Tia looks almost amused. "Are you looking for a new title?"

"No," Liila says with such seriousness that both of them cannot help but laugh. "Someone else. Maybe a senior acolyte or maybe the acolytes could even elect someone or… I don't know. Not me."

Long after Adrestes has left to tend to his temple, Disciple Tia returns to Liila, curious to hear more about her thoughts, well after Liila figures the topic has been dismissed. "I'm curious to hear more on your thoughts for those aspirant representatives."

Liila nods, setting aside her scrolls. "Sure." Disciple Tia motions for her to go on, and Liila shifts a little. "It wouldn't need to be anything official, I suppose. There could just be someone that people knew they could go to if they were having issues. Maybe it would help prevent feelings of not being heard from gaining traction again."

"A mitigation tactic," Disciple Tia murmurs. "It would need to be more than just something to placate those who have felt they had no voice for so long."

"I've noticed here that it really seems like aspirants do not have much of a voice in how the realm is run."

"I suppose that is true of the newer ones," Disciple Tia says, "but the older ones often find that as they passed their rites, their voices carry more weight."

"But people shouldn't have to earn the right to be heard," Liila argues. "I think that's part of the problem."

"Oh?"

"People know they won't be heard until they've twisted themselves into what the Archon wants, and the Archon may have good reason for the rites she has, but if they are not explained well, if people are just told to do something without being told why or the benefits to it, then it will breed resentment, especially with those who struggle."

"And you don't think the paragons and Hands can handle that themselves?"

"I think that there is a difference, literally and culturally between the ascended and aspirants," Liila says. "To some degree, it makes sense, but it does leave a gap, that can feel vast, where communication breaks down."

As Disciple Tia nods thoughtfully, Liila adds, "And sometimes a problem doesn't seem important enough to bother someone so important as a paragon."

"Aspirants are encouraged to help one another," Disciple Tia says, though she mulls it over a moment longer before saying, "but I can see the merit to what you are saying. You mentioned before that you thought the aspirants should choose who represents them?"

"It should be someone they can trust instead of someone appointed to the task," Liila says. "Or even they could present options to their paragon, and their paragon could choose from who their fellow aspirants want. That way no one is appointed into a position that they don't want or into a place they will feel overwhelmed in."

Disciple Tia does not respond at first. Just as Liila wonders if the ascended is going to dismiss her ideas, or simply tell her that she'll send the idea up to the Archon, she nods. "I imagine there would need to be a speaker for the village, too. Six speakers, a council to bring up issues respective to specific temples and in general."

"And maybe give Sika the official title of Speaker of the Stewards," Liila offers. "Gods know she coordinates a million things at once. It might be nice to acknowledge her work and the work of other stewards, too."

"I don't think Mikanikos would handle the elevation of his second in command unless he was also considered a speaker," Disciple Tia muses, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles. She currently sits with her back against a small column, with her wings hanging over the ledges on either side. It is the first time Liila has ever seen an ascended lean back, and it awes her a little that it can even be done.

She makes a mental note to ask Kleia if she knows she can do that, considering Kleia has, in the past, lamented about not being able to sit around like she used to.

"Would you be willing to write up your proposals?" Disciple Tia asks then. "I can make sure they get to the proper channels for serious discussion. Or you can always pass them on to Adrestes, I suppose."

Liila is not sure why it means as much as it does to have Disciple Tia hear her out, even encourage her as she has, but it does.

And so she does as asked.

She includes a suggestion to let the bodiless souls have a representative, too, someone to speak for those who are just coming to the realm, to work with to show that they are not just some echoes from life waiting to be reshaped.

The changes come relatively quickly. She hears through the grapevine that Ikaros is elevated to the Speaker of the Aspirants of Courage.

Adrestes comes to sit with her after announcing the new position in his own temple, slipping into aspirant form himself as he holds up a small stack of suggestions who have been submitted to him. His grin tells her she does not want to see them. He clears his throat and begins reading the suggestions. "Aspirant Liila."

"No."

"Liila Dragonlily."

"Adrestes, no."

"Aspirant Dragonlily."

"I will stab someone."

He stops there, his laughter rich and rolling. When he sits up, he looks at her and starts laughing again. "You've been too helpful, my love. You've been here mere months and people already know to come to you with issues they have."

"Only because I'm your soulmate," Liila protests. "They think I must have your ear better than most."

"In a way, you do," he admits and she scowls pointedly at him.

"I'm not going to subject you to something you hate," he says, softly. "Aspirant Eolis and Pelagos were suggested by a few as well. I'm going to give the position to one of them. Perhaps both."

Liila eyes him suspiciously before finally nodding. "Good."

Stanikos comes by a few days later, excited to tell Liila how Sika has been recognized, as well, chirping happily that Sika does good work and how he is glad important people have noticed how hard stewards work.

All in all, being at Devotion has been nice.

She is able to see the changes taking place in the realm, and she is free to wander the temple as she pleases, to help those around her when she can, and to rest when she wants. She's even made it all the way to Steward's Rest once, assisting a delivery with Stanikos and Pelagos.

And she likes sitting with Adrestes when he is working alone, consolidating the tenets that they are working on for the temple. Sometimes, she can get him to read what he has to her, and she likes to get lost in the sound of his voice.

He asks her about her opinions on some of the tenets, and she has been able to point out loopholes in his wording that has him frowning at the idea anyone would try to get out of following their practices. He changes them sometimes.

After four months, she is able to say that she has gone two full weeks without any lapses, and she is optimistic, though those around her seem much more cautious. She figures she is halfway through her timetable to be able to start physical training, though she already finds that her stamina is returning to her, and she feels more able than she has in a long, long time.

She is finally back to where she was before she went to see Haa'aji and the kids.

Occasionally, she'll see Nibbles sitting at the edges of the temple. He brings her the strangest gifts. Fruits from realms she doubts she's ever heard of, trinkets brimming with anima. He is trying to mend her, in his own way, to return the care she gave to him when he was little.

She has been able to speak with her mortal friends considerably more while she has been in Devotion, too, and there has even been some musing that she might be able to redo one of her soulbindings in another couple months. And, should it go well, the others will follow.

All in all, things are going well.

And that is when they hear the news: the Primus is ready to open the way to Zereth Mortis.

It is good news, and yet it brings things that most everyone has been ignoring into painfully sharp focus. It is a reminder that they stand on the brink of nothingness, should those who can make the journey fail, and it makes something inside of Liila itch.

It is not the same sort of itch that her runes would cause when they were about to activate or cause her grief. No, this itch is a restlessness, a sense that she should be doing more, that if it were not for her colossal fuck up before, she would be doing more.

Xandria offers her support through their binding, assuring her that she does not need to feel guilt, for she is not sitting idle while others march off to fight. Liila can feel the paragon's intent, her will, as surely as if Xandria were speaking it to her, telling her that the rest she has longed for is here before her and that she need not push herself like she used to, to the point of exhaustion and death and resurrection.

She has done enough.

Adrestes is either warned by Xandria or he can read her restlessness himself, because he tells her as much himself, holding her close in their quiet spot, assuring her that she does not need to face the Jailer again.

The nightmares begin the first time she drifts off after hearing the news.

In them, she sees Anduin, made to do horrible things, she sees the Jailer watching her like one might a mouse or an insect, she sees the Jailer watching her through Anduin's eyes, and the pain that lingers behind that cocky arrogance that only a god can have. She sees the real Anduin trapped, his body moving against his will as the Jailer puppets him.

She has saved so many, and yet there are still so many who suffer that fate she was once trapped in.

Disciple Tia wakes her from one such nightmare, and Liila finds that the disciple has long dark marks along her arms from where Liila has clawed at her in her sleep, desperate to fend off the hands that touched her.

As she apologizes, she tries to conjure healing spells without thinking, and her soul aches. It is the sort of pain she has grown accustomed to, and she does not even notice it until Disciple Tia is stopping her, interrupting her casting and casting her own healing spells on both of them.

Liila cannot apologize enough.

Disciple Tia sits with her in the quiet until she is finally able to calm down, until she is finally able to stop apologizing.

"What do you think would help?" Disciple Tia asks when Liila is finally calm. As Liila looks at her, reaches out and inspects her arms to make sure she is no longer sporting the injuries Liila gave her, Tia catches her face, cups it in her hands. "Tell me, Aspirant Dragonlily. What do you think would put you at ease?"

"Besides forgetting?" Liila offers with a weak laugh. She already knows that they will not be letting her cleanse anything she actually does wish to let go of until her soul is mended fully, and that will be…a long enough time down the road that it will not help her now. When Tia nods, Liila shrugs. "I don't… maybe if I had something to work on. I could refocus or…"

She has things to work on. She's been refocusing. She works on repenning scrolls for Purity or assisting with alchemical projects, even if it's just chopping up components for later use. She reads about Agthian weaving and Pallessa's journal on healing alterations. She focuses until she passes out at the stations she's working at or until Pelagos or Kleia or Adrestes or Tia demands she takes a break.

"What if you went to see of those who are going?" Tia offers.

Liila's gaze snaps to her. "I can't leave the realm."

"You cannot leave without permission."

"You sound like the Archon."

Tia's half smile at that makes Liila pause, though the disciple merely shakes her head.

"Why would she let me go?"

"To see your nerves eased?" Tia offers. "You are cared for, Aspirant Dragonlily. No one wants to see your light fade."

"The Jailer does."

"He's not here," Tia says pointedly. "As you said, he is in Zereth Mortis and cannot reach you here."

"But he'll be able to reach the ones I love. When they go to fight him." Liila bites her nail, staring off into space, into the clouds that wander lazily up to the edges of the temple. "I mean, he'll destroy them anyway, if he catches them or…"

"Kleia is going to see off those who are heading through the gateway," Tia says then. "I think you should go with her. You can wish your allies well, and see them when they return to Oribos, having secured a hold in Zereth Mortis. I think you will feel better when you see that your people are just as capable as you were."

"I wasn't capable enough."

"You were alone. They will not be."

When Liila is ready to argue further, Tia cuts her off. "The mortals who will be going through are the same ones who took down Sire Denathrius," Tia points out. "If they could put one god in his place within his own domain, no less, I'm sure they can handle another who treads where he should not. The very realm will be revolting against him in a way you and your mortal friends have never seen because you have never seen a god tread in lands forbidden to them. The longer he trespasses without finding what he wants, the more his power will wane. When your allies confront him, he will not be the beast that stormed Oribos. Or the one who shredded your soul."

Liila blinks, looking up at Tia. There is something more to her, she realizes, something more than a regular ascended.

She feels like her face is familiar, like there is something there she should understand, something there she should recognize.

Her head hurts, and she curls into herself.

Tia's hand finds her back and rubs gentle circles between her shoulder blades. "I will see that the way is available to you, should you decide to go. I think it will do you good to remember the strength your mortal friends wield."

Despite her words, Liila is fairly certain that there is no way her departure will ever be approved.

That is, until the next day when she finds a very cross Adrestes speaking with Vesiphone and Kleia. Adrestes merely sulks, feathers sleeker than usual as he glares toward Elysian Hold. Kleia, however, is the one to break the silence first and greet Liila. "I've heard that you might want to come with me to Oribos."

Even as Liila's brow pinches—she'd half thought her talk with Tia was some sort of dream itself—Vesiphone kneels before her. "May I take a look at you?" When Liila nods, Vesiphone reaches out, fingertips lightly brushing against Liila's forehead. She feels that mild discomfort that comes with the paragon peering into her being, but it is gone quick enough.

Vesiphone smiles. "I think, should you take the traditional path out of the realm, you will be fine. No rides from devourers though, you hear me? And no portals. Even if it's back to Elysian Hold. You ride a larion or wyrm, and you ride with someone who can keep you on your mount, in case you have another lapse."

"The Archon will never approve—"

"Liila Embrosia Dragonlily, enough. I wouldn't be here if the Archon disapproved of your leaving," Vesiphone interrupts. "I have heard of your nightmares, as has she, and she thinks that this is a good course of action. It is a way for you to face some of that fear without risking yourself. And Xandria and I agree. We think your fears will settle when you see that this is doable without you, Aspirant Dragonlily."

This…

This does not feel real.

When the Archon had demanded her oath, Liila had felt like the invisible edges of the realm had become walls. As big as the realm is, her world had become so much smaller than it once had been.

To think that she has permission to leave…

"You have your permission to leave the realm," Adrestes says, as though he can sense her skepticism. When she looks up at him, he is still scowling in the direction of the hold. "But just because you can go doesn't mean you should."

Vesiphone's smile toward Adrestes is kind, though it doesn't do anything other than make his mood worse. She turns back to Liila, kneeling before her. "It is your decision, aspirant."


"I'm sorry, Pel," Liila offers, glancing back at him as the wind whips around them. His larion's wings flap swiftly, propelling them forward, toward the edge of the realm and beyond.

He meets her gaze, surprised. "Why?"

"I didn't think…I didn't mean to drag you into this," she says, and she means it. When she was given the option to leave the realm, it had felt like something impossible, and at first she had thought to decline the offer, to stay put. However, that itch inside of her had become so unbearable, even as she thought about it, even as she tried to will herself to say she would stay, she had asked when she could leave.

Adrestes is not pleased. She knows that.

But he has let her go, so long as she promises to stay with Kleia and Pelagos.

She had known that Pelagos had just slipped off to have some private time with Nikolon when the declaration was made and Kleia had flitted off to gather him, and she cannot help but feel guilty for cutting into his time with his lover.

His eyes widen a moment when she apologizes, and then he laughs. "I was already planning on coming."

"Really?" Liila asks. She knows that there was mention of Kleia going to Oribos, but she hadn't heard that anyone else from their realm would be in attendance.

He nods to her, squeezes her a little, where his arms wrap around her waist so that he can reach forward to grip his larion's reins. "I've been helping in Korthia, as you know," he waits for her to nod, "and I want to do more. I want to help in Zereth Mortis, too, if I can."

"Did you clear it with the Archon already?" Liila asks, shifting just enough so that she can look back at him more comfortably.

He lets out an awkward laugh. "I thought I'd take a page out of a dear friend's playbook and seize the moment," he admits. "Kleia knows I'm up to something, but I don't think she's told anyone yet."

"She probably wants to ask you what you intend to do," Liila offers.

Pelagos nods, sighing. "She worries a lot more these days, but I'm more capable than people give me credit for. I can do good in Zereth Mortis. I know I can."

Liila is tempted to turn in her seat and hug him, but she doesn't want to startle their ride, or put either of them off balance. So instead, she leans her head back enough to press her temple against his. "I'm proud of you, you know that?"

He smiles at her, leans his head against hers. "That means more than you know, Miss Dragonlily."


Adrestes realizes he is in a fickle mood when Nebi whacks his knee with a scroll. "We can feel your glare."

He turns his head, ever so slightly, to look at her. Despite his direct attention, she stands her ground. Even when his frown deepens as she cuts right to the heart of the matter. "You could have told her to stay."

"No, I couldn't have," he replies.

He loves Liila, and he knows that she loves him, but she is a free spirit, and he can easily see her becoming a bearer once she gets her wings. It will be lonely in the realm, waiting for her shifts to end, to have an exhausted lover return to him for too short a time before she is called again to bear.

He tries telling himself that he's just being selfish, that he should not be grumbling about eternity when they're not even there yet. Before being chosen to become paragon, he had idly considered what it might be like to have her work with him, a fellow polemarch perhaps.

He had doubted she would want such a position, but he had still longed for the idea of them serving together, side by side, wing by wing.

Now it feels like that will never happen.

He did not ask her stay. He had not wanted her to feel like she had to because of him.

But he had hoped…

If the Archon thinks she is well enough to go to Oribos, he should not question it, but he cannot help the dread that is curled within him. Even knowing that Kleia and Pelagos have gone, too, he still feels like Liila is unguarded.

He had wanted to protect her, to make up for his failures, for the three times he let her fall and for the time she was taken from them.

She doesn't blame him, but he still blames himself.

With a huff, he ruffles his feathers and then lets them settle. One of his disciples motions to herself and then a few others. "We could go as well, be a guard for her."

"Kleia and Pelagos are quite capable," Adrestes murmurs, voice getting a bit softer as he adds, "Thank you, though."

The day winds on longer than it feels it should, with him constantly considering how far she's gotten and if she's out of the realm yet. She took a larion, and it would have been an agonizingly long trip, except they cut straight south, over mostly empty space, to head straight for the gateway leading out of the realm.

He keeps thinking that if he took the anima gateway to Aspirant's Rest, he could cut her off before she leaves the realm.

Even if she ends up upset, surely she will forgive him.

It might take a few eons, but…

But in the meantime she would wake up shrieking, clawing at those who dared to touch her. Her unrest might upset her healing, too.

After what feels like an unproductive session with his disciples, he dismisses them and flies up to the higher reaches of the temple to try to meditate. It does him no good. His mind will not settle, and he finds himself pacing.

"You are upset."

The Archon's voice comes from behind him and he turns to find her in her ascended form, watching him pace, gaze focused on the gateway out of the realm—or where he knows it is. Even with heightened senses, he cannot see that far.

"I cannot shake the feeling that something is going to go very wrong," Adrestes says, stopping to look down at her. It is strange to look down at the Archon. However, he understands why she does not come here openly. Many of those in his care are still suspicious of her, and they would be afraid to find her among them.

"She will be with my brother," the Archon says, stepping up beside him to watch what he cannot see. Liila's departure from the realm. "The Primus is fond of her; he will keep an eye on her." The Archon lets out a faint laugh then. "She was returning his memories and bringing him what little comforts she could while he was trapped."

"I heard about the pillows," Adrestes says, shaking his head. "And apparently she almost made him a blanket."

The Archon is smiling gently. "He is not generally a fan of gentle creatures, but he has a soft spot for her. If he wasn't going to be there, I wouldn't let her go."

"Blood did say that gods tend to either despise her or love her," Adrestes murmurs. "A few of the mortals have."

The Archon reaches out and pats his arm, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to.

Adrestes watches that point in the distance that he can't see until he feels their connection waver, the way it does when he leaves the realm to attend Ember Courts.

Liila is out of the realm.


"Maw Walker?"

There is dismay in the Dark Prince's voice as he calls to her, and Liila turns to find the venthyr prince quickly breaching the space between them. When she salutes him—she has to correct her Horde salute to that of a kyrian one—he gives her a flourished bow.

"I hope grim tidings do not bring you here."

Liila blinks, confused.

That is, until Pelagos stands proudly beside her, hand on her shoulder. "Liila's here to see everyone off."

With a half laugh, Liila motions vaguely in the direction of Bastion. "The Archon's not tired of me just yet."

Prince Renathal gives her a wide grin then. "I am glad to hear that." As Liila smiles back, he motions to her. "If you are here to see our brave souls off, then we are headed the same way. I would be remiss if I did not offer an escort."

He offers her his arm then, and she takes it with a curtsey and allows him to lead her through Oribos as he regales her, Kleia, and Pelagos with some mishaps that have happened in Revendreth since Liila's death, including a few incidents with the Fearstalker, who is no longer pretending to be dead to avoid the Rebellion.

"It was quite a twist," Prince Renathal muses, "going to draw one of my sisters to my cause and finding two."

"I imagine the Accuser wasn't too pleased," Liila says.

"On the contrary, now that we are not enemies, the Accuser is pleased to have all Harvesters working together, and the Curator and I were glad to have our family restored." He pats Liila's hand, where it rests in the crook of his arm. "I thank you for that."

When they reach the platform that leads up to the Arbiter's chamber, Liila stops, frowning. As Prince Renathal peers down at her, she motions forward. "I don't think I'm supposed to use teleporters."

He cocks his head, appraising her with new care. "You know, if you'd like, you could come to Revendreth for a while. We're rather good at piecing souls back together, after the nasty bits are worn away. I imagine mending you would not be so different."

"Thank you," Liila starts, "but I don't have leave for that far of a road trip. Unless I want my final destination to be somewhere other than Bastion."

"I will offer our services to the Archon, then. I imagine Theotar would be glad to come by and see you."

"He wouldn't get hurt by the light?"

"Bastion's light is not the Light," Prince Renathal says. "Though it is still miserably bright, from what I'm told."

"It's the worst," Liila teases.

He releases her then and gives her a deep bow. "I am glad that I was able to see you, Maw Walker. May your recovery be swift and your walk down your Path fulfilling."

Liila curtseys as an elf would, unthinking. "May Revendreth unite under your and the other Harvesters' guidance."

He gives her a wide smile again before turning and heading up.

Liila stands there near the platform and swings her arms back and forth twice before looking at Pelagos and Kleia. "Where…should I wait?"

"I could fly you up," Kleia offers, patting Pelagos' shoulder as he seems to consider that to go to any main part of the city, Liila will need to use a teleporter, something they hadn't considered. "Or down. If you're not up for the send off, I can take you to the inn. You do look a little tired."

"It was a long ride," Pelagos offers when Liila's frown deepens. "I'm a bit worn, too. Perhaps we could both—"

"You didn't come here to babysit me, Pel," Liila says. She glances around and then motions toward a pillar near the central drop, where the stream of souls used to be. There are none heading down to the Maw anymore, and the space is empty. "I can just stay here."

As she speaks, a figure materializes on the platform before them. She instinctively steps back to get out of the way, even before she realizes that they tower over her.

"Maw Walker, we finally meet again."

"Runecarv—" Liila says automatically, recognizing the voice. However, when she looks up—and up and up—at the figure before them, she feels a curl of dread that perhaps the holes in her memory are worse than she thought.

The speaker has one gnarled hand gripping an impressive staff while the other arm rests across their robed knee.

Liila blinks up at the elderly looking figure, at his long, winding beard, and his impressive horns. Power, ancient and terrible, curls within him, his presence suffocating. She is certain she has never seen this creature before, and yet there is something familiar about him. He reminds her of the Archon and the Winter Queen and Sire Denathrius.

"You look pale," he says, reaching out a large finger to catch her chin and turn her head a little.

As he speaks, she feels something click into place, something she has been told once or twice. "You're the Primus."

His eyes turn to little glowing crescents for a moment as he nods. "I am."

"And I never knew you like this."

"No," he says. "This is our first meeting since my memories were restored."

"I'm glad you were able to escape the Maw," Liila offers.

The Primus frowns at that, and for a moment she thinks she's misspoken, but instead, he cocks his head, appraising her. "Renathal says you don't want to dare the transporter." He tilts her head the other way, and she can feel that he is looking at more than what should be visible to regular eyes. "You aided me with my memories and did what you could to make my captivity less agonizing. I would grant you my boon, if you would accept it."

"I am still sworn to the Archon," Liila says instinctively.

With a snort, the Primus shakes his head. "I do not seek your allegiance or your soul. Just to return a favor. What say you?"

"I would be grateful," Liila replies, curtseying to him again.

He does not mince his words. Instead, he holds up his free hand and she watches the way anima, green and black, swirls around his fingertips. She can see the way it forms almost a web, weaving over itself again and again.

When it is thick enough that she cannot make out his fingertips within the swirl of anima, he extends his hand to her.

She feels the anima wrap around her, through her. It does not sink into her like a healing spell, but feels more like a shield or perhaps like scaffolding, reinforcing what is already there. When she looks down, she rather expects that she will look different, and yet a quick glance shows her skin is the same shade of blue and she hasn't grown any armor or extra limbs.

Most of her aches are muted now to the point that she almost dares to think many are gone altogether.

She feels…fantastic.

"The Maldraxxi need more durable souls than most," the Primus says. "You may not be one of mine, but I'd rather not see you fall to pieces, Maw Walker."

Liila reaches out and rests her hand on his. "Thank you."

He merely grunts as he rises back to his feet. "Come along then. No reason for you to stand about down here."

When Liila looks back at Pelagos and Kleia, they are both wide-eyed, though they smile broadly almost in unison. Pelagos loops arms with her. "Shall we?"


Adrestes is in a meeting with the other paragons when he feels the strangest tug. At first he thinks that Liila must have returned to the realm, because their connection is notably stronger. However, even as he glances in the direction of the gateway, relief washing through him that she is already back, Xandria takes in a sharp gasp.

Her eyes glow an uncanny green for a split second before whatever it is has passed. She stands perfectly still for a moment before one of her brows arches, and she laughs. She looks up at the Archon. "The Primus had a gift for our dear aspirant." She pauses a second before adding, "She doesn't need me to hold her together anymore."

"He healed her?" Vesiphone asks, curious.

"I don't know that that's the word I would use," Xandria murmurs. "But he certainly did something."

Even as Thenios asks for clarification, Adrestes adds, "I can feel her more strongly, like she's in the realm."

Xandria grins. "A good sign."

As Adrestes nods, he cannot help but feel a little foolish for his earlier concerns. He should have had more faith.

They resume their meeting, discussing the future of the realm and how both Humility and Wisdom may be in for some unexpected changes themselves. Xandria details differences in behavior among her aspirants who still have their memories and the ones she usually gets who have been cleansed of their past, stating that many seem to have a stronger conviction toward their duties because of their mortal ties.

Vesiphone and Thenios are both hesitant in response to her optimism. They still remember the early days of the realm, when everyone then was as enthusiastic to meet their eternal destinies. What they describe sounds like a mirror of what Adrestes has heard among his own aspirants at Devotion.

"Most of the souls we've lost were lost in the beginning, before our realm grew more rigid and structured," Thenios warns.

"But do we not have eons of data and improved methods of Bearing and Watching on our side now?" Chyrus offers. "Perhaps we have the proper guidance to mold that conviction into something sturdy enough to be unbiased."

"We need more Bearers and Watchers," Xandria says. "The Realms of the Living are always expanding, and we've lost so many people that if another Legion emerges, we'll be hard-pressed to gather the souls in a timely manner. And that means we lose them."

Vesiphone nods, thoughtfully. "Keeping their memories will expedite the Path to Ascension by eons. My rite usually takes the longest."

"What of those who have given up their memories?" Thenios asks. "Many of my disciples have started musing about what slivers of knowledge might be forgotten or tucked away in their forsaken memories. They wonder if it might be feasible to return memories, as the forsworn wanted to do."

Adrestes cannot help but frown at that, remembering how he was their test subject.

Vesiphone must see something of his displeasure in his frown, for she lands then, the chimes on her ankles clinking softly, and steps over to rest a hand on his arm. She gives him a gentle smile and then looks to Thenios. "Perhaps it would be good to stagger some of these changes. Surely the entire realm does not need to upend itself all at once. Let us adjust to some changes and then add others."

"It still becomes a matter of what changes take priority," Chyrus says softly. "And every day that goes by is seconds longer that the desired memories are gone. Each second makes it harder to accept them back, yes?"

"Vesiphone has a point," Thenios murmurs. "We are already overwhelmed with the soul shards and restoring the Locus. I do not see us able to open studies on how to return memories any time soon."

"Perhaps we at Humility could start something," Chyrus offers. When the others look to him, he shrugs. "We have been affected the least by either the rebellion in the realm and the changes to the Path. There is no reason that we alone should sit unaffected by the incoming changes."

As Adrestes considers that perhaps he would be less aggravated by the idea of the studies if they were done on willing subjects and in a temple far from his, Xandria sucks in a muted breath, eyes widening.

It is just for a second, but it is enough to capture his attention.

Even as she tries to school her expression, Adrestes feels for that ethereal tug. It is still there, and yet that worry that something will go wrong has come back tenfold.

"What's happened?" The words are off his lips before he can even realize it.

Xandria has already taken her trident in hand and is darting outside, past Kalisthene who is dutifully standing guard where Adrestes used to, mere months ago. "There's been an attack on Oribos." She pauses only long enough to yell over her should, "Liila's fine."

Despite her words, Adrestes cannot help but think that her voice does not sound as sure as it should.

The Archon follows Xandria out, flying up to her private chamber, where she addresses the other gods. Adrestes follows her to the entrance. He hesitates then, realizing that this is not somewhere he is meant to be, that he is trespassing on sacred ground.

However, the Archon notes his presence and waves him in, stopping him just shy of a large etching of their covenant's sigil on the ground. It lights up beneath her as she alights on the ground, and that light stretches to five other circles, each elevated.

There is a moment's pause before the central circle flickers violently, too much movement happening at once for them to get a good view of what is happening.

Adrestes scans the chaos and finds who he is looking for quickly.

A ghostly image of Liila stands with what looks like a Maw staff in hand, as Kleia guards her. Kleia is quick to fend off anyone who gets to close, and he realizes that she is trying to walk Liila to what he thinks is a teleporter platform.

As they go, a helsworn slams into the ground between them and sends them falling in opposite directions. Kleia hits the ground hard and bounces back up, hammer in hand as she swings it into her their attacker with honed precision.

But Liila…

She has no wings, no way to stop herself from sliding, except to claw at the ground futilely.

She goes over the edge of the platform, eyes wide. She twists, tries to catch onto something, only to fall out of view.

As Adrestes tenses, moves without thinking so that he can better see the part of the platform that is blocked from his view now. As he rounds one of the corners, drawing closer to a circle with the sigil for Revendreth etched into it, a hellish creatures flies into view, not far from where Liila fell, with Pelagos almost hanging off it to one side, one hand tangled in the creature's reins and the other gripping Liila's robes. He tries to maneuver them back to the main platform, but the beast he's on will not listen to his commands, and they fly erratically.

It bucks them off, and they both fall. General Draven is flying toward them to catch them, but before he can reach them, something appears beside them, grabs them, and then disappears.

With them.

Adrestes scans the chaos, the falling enemies—how does the Jailer still have so many helsworn?—and then feels a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumps. Chyrus points to one edge of the scene, and he sees a gateway set up and glowing. And hanging from the bottom of it, fingers of one massive hand dug into the frame, is a devourer.

Liila is cradled in its free arm, and she is helping pull Pelagos up with her.

"Nibbles," Chyrus comments, before adding offhandedly, "I may have to reconsider my opinions on devourers."

The Archon murmurs something, a spell of some kind, and they can see how she extends her power into what she is seeing. Shields go up around their allies, around Liila and Pelagos and Nibbles, too.

And then Adrestes sees the helsworn channeling massive incantations.

The Primus is striking down many of them, and the mortals and others gathered to see the send off are holding their own and whittling down their enemies' numbers, but there are a dozen groups of helsworn, and it only takes one. The spell hurtles toward the gateway that Nibbles clings to. Pelagos puts up a shield, Liila braces for the attack.

And Nibbles tries to blink out of the way with his passengers.

However, the spell hits just as he is phasing.

Adrestes cannot be sure, but it looks like when the spell hits it flings Nibbles, Liila, and Pelagos all through the gateway.

And then the gateway sputters, goes dark, and falls from the sky.

Adrestes' heart drops with it as he feels his connection to Liila vanish.


A/N: So this fic is going on a semi hiatus. I just got a job as a teacher, but on the condition that I have to go back and get my master's degree in education, so my free time has plummeted. I'd like to get the next chapter out by the end of the month, but I just don't know if that'll happen. This fic is not going to be abandoned though, so there will be updates, eventually. It'll just take forever. Thank you to everyone who reads!