Chapter 7: Fall from Grace

Ramisse and Emi sat at the long table in the dining hall. Ramisse had pressed her fingers to her temples and shut her golden brown eyes, concentrating. Her icy wings waved softly as she did this. Then she opened her eyes and removed her fingers from her head. She turned to Emi. "They're on their way."

Saffa ambled into the dining hall. Upon seeing Ramisse, he pointed and screamed. Emi rushed over to him, calming him. "Shh. Rae, this is my friend Saffa Blue. Saffa, this is Ramisse the Blade."

"The BLADE?!" shrieked Saffa. "This is too good to be true! Punch me!" he said, proffering Emi his arm.

"No," said Emi firmly. Ramisse chuckled.

"He's cute," she said. "Here, big guy. You want to see if you're dreaming, hold this." She unsheathed her huge chlorophyte sword and handed it to Saffa, who almost collapsed under its weight.

"Ouch," came Saffa's muffled voice from somewhere under the sword. Ramisse laughed again and took the sword back.

"That's why I'm the Blade," she said, grinning smugly and sheathing the sword. "So, I contacted Calythé and Monavelle and they are coming soon."

"Sooner than you think," came a voice at the door. In strode two more strange women, clad in green chlorophyte armor nearly identical to Ramisse's, but with slight headgear variations. The woman on the left had long black hair, teal blue eyes, ghostly ectoplasmic wings, and a helmet shaped like a dragon's head. The woman on the right had chocolate brown hair, burning fire wings, grass green eyes and a helmet with horns curving back alongside her head. She had a quiver of arrows slung over her back and a crossbow in her hand.

Ramisse gestured to the women. "Sisters, this is Emi and Saffa. Emi, Saffa, these are my sisters Calythé-" she indicated to the one on the left, "-and Monavelle," she introduced, waving at the one on the right.

"Pleased to eat you," said Monavelle with a horrid grin on her face.

"Mona!" reprimanded Calythé sternly. "This isn't a battlefield. They're just children!"

"Sorry," she said unregetfully. "Forgot my manners."

"Wow! The Book, the Blade, and the Bow! Can I have your autographs?" asked Saffa. Monavelle reached into her quiver, pulled out an arrow, and handed it to Saffa, who then fainted from excitement.

Monavelle chuckled. "I love little kids."

"Where's Embrea?" asked Calythé anxiously, fingering the ghostly feathers on her wings.

Emi gestured after her, then set off down the hall. The three women followed her into Embrea's quarters. Thunder was back by her bedside, and her aging had advanced. Embrea's hair had turned from pink to snow-white, with the barest hint of its original bloodred glory close to the roots. Her skin was wrinkled and transparent. She opened her eyes and looked at the three women standing over her, and when she saw them she drew in a deep, rattling breath.

"Calythé," she wheezed. "Monavelle. Ramisse. In all my years, I never thought I would see you three hooligans again."

Monavelle stamped her foot. "I'm not a hooligan!"

"Embrea," murmured Calythé. "You look terrible."

Embrea smiled. "What else is new?"

"Now's not a time to joke," reprimanded Calythé. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Listen to me," whispered Embrea. "I have aged over seventy years over the past few days. I don't have much time left. I'm afraid I may die of old age within the next few hours."

"Don't say that, oh please don't say that, oh please oh please," pleaded Emi. "We love you, Embrea. We don't want you to die now."

"I love all of you too," Embrea murmured, looking at the faces around her; Topaz and Saffa had joined the group and were peering in at her. She drew in another deep breath. "I want you all to be strong and defeat Cthulhu. I'm so proud of all of you for what you did that night." At this she looked at Emi, Thunder, Topaz and Saffa, tears brimming in all their eyes. Embrea blinked back a pink tear as she gazed at them.

Then she turned her head to the three women. "Calythé, Ramisse, and Monavelle. I've been watching you. You have blossomed into three extraordinary young ladies. If you drove Cthulhu out once, you can do it again."

Monavelle pulled a fire feather from her wings and laid it on Embrea's chest. "By this feather I grant you strength of sight," she said, and the cataracts cleared from her eyes and they returned to their former color.

Then Ramisse pulled a feather from her wings. Unlike Monavelle's, it was icy and frozen. "By this feather I grant you strength of body," she murmured, laid it on Embrea's chest, and her skin became smooth and taut again.

Finally, Calythé pulled a feather from her ghostly wings. "By this feather I grant you strength of mind," she intoned, laid it alongside the other feathers, and the scarlet rime at the roots of Embrea's hair raced down its length, and suddenly Embrea looked young and beautiful again.

"I thank you," she wheezed, "for restoring my beauty and youth. But I am still dying."

"We know," chorused the three women. Embrea drew in a last rattling breath.

"I love you all," she whispered. "Be strong."

And with that, her red eyes closed and Embrea entered eternal slumber.