The next moments are a blur to Aylin as she sobs holding Isobel's body. Her prayers to her mother only returned with tearful apologies.
There are sounds of heavy door falling under blows of a warhammer – seemingly breaking the silence enchantment for the room.
Then the cries of a father who just lost the last family before he shoves Aylin away from his daughter.
A cleric saying a prayer as he attempts to revive Isobel – diamonds pulled from the headband given to her many years ago. The yells of Ketheric to Selûne save his daughter since she failed to save Melodia. But Isobel's form remains still and lifeless as the diamonds disappear.
Another healer approaches Aylin with a incantation to heal the brutal wound in her side. Although she doesn't feel anything as the stab wound knits itself back together to form what will be a golden scar. But she gently pushes them away when they try to get an assessment of the full extent of her wounds. She can only look with a sundered heart at the body of her wife still in death as she never was before.
Out of the corner of her eye she thinks she can see Ketheric glaring at her, but tears of silver moonlight escape her eyes and erases it from her vision.
More moments as the clerics of Selûne cover Isobel in a fine silver and white shroud. The high priest ushering Ketheric to the temple as Priest Mertin and another help Aylin off the floor. But as she stands she feels every inch of her injured body as darkness takes her.
Aylin comes to on a bed in the temple with sunlight entering the room from far side of the room. The pain in her chest and the flashes of the tiefling's attack in her mind's eye reminds her utter failure. She pushes herself to sit up before standing on exhausted legs. She exits the room to see Mertin in prayer on a chair outside the room.
"Where is she," Aylin feels the tears starting to form in her eyes and Mertin looks up. Wordless he stands and leads Aylin deeper into the temple. The whole temple seems to be somehow darker on the inside despite the sunlight entering from windows. The quiet prayers from the clerics and even worshipers in the temple as Aylin walked by only added to effect.
They approach a door and Mertin stands off to the side while Aylin goes to open the door. Inside are several clerics carrying out assorted actions. A handful chanted prayers while two others braided a circlet of flowers and vines. Another two mill about the shrouded form on the table but they look up to see who dare intrudes on the funeral rites of a devout follower of Selûne. Upon locking eyes with Aylin the two bow and one of the priestesses speaks.
"Dame Aylin, we have completed what we could but-"
"The moon burial…"
"Yes, my lady. Lord Ketheric is at the mausoleum and has entrusted you with the preparations for Lady Isobel." The cleric's eyes glance over Aylin taking in her still battered appearance and she can see the cleric's preparing to speak.
"Then let us get started," she glances around and sees a priest weaving flowers and vines about a staff, "her spear. She- She deserves to be buried with her spear." With a glace from the lead priestess the priest places the staff on another table in the room before leaving. She then places a hand on Aylin's elbow before guiding the paladin towards the shrouded figure on the table.
The priestess hands Aylin an elixir. As Aylin looks at the bottle she understands the implication.
Ketheric entrusted her with the preparation of Isobel. Healing wounds (or overseeing the healing if the person preparing lacks magical abilities), dressing in the burial gown, and moving her to the mausoleum – all before the moon sets in the sky. Things expected of the spouse or remaining family of the deceased.
'So you can look at consequences of your failure,' her mind wanders as the grabs the stopper on the elixir. She drinks the foul tasting elixir and feels a bit of her divine magic returning. She also sees the priestess's hand glowing with healing magic as the woman reaches to touch Aylin.
"I don't de-"
"She would not want you to keep punishing yourself, my lady," the cleric's holy symbol glows faintly before she places a hand on Aylin's own.
"Before we start we need to get you out of those," the priestess gestures to Aylin's clothes. The same clothes she was wearing since she left Elturel not even half a day ago. The same clothes covered with her own golden blood and the blood of her beloved. The priestess waves towards a neatly folded set of white and silver robes – not to dissimilar to what the clerics are wearing – to what Isobel will be buried in.
With the clerics turned away to continue preparation of incense, flowers, and Isobel's spear, Aylin dresses in fine robes white robes with embroidered silver moons and filigree around the cuffs and the edges of the collar but unlike the robes of the clerics her own robes were sewn together with golden thread. They are just loose enough to allow her to carry out the duties she would soon face.
Dressed she approaches the shrouded figure and with shaking hands she removes the shroud. Isobel lays there as she was in the healing chamber except her clothing had been removed to allow her injuries to be open for treatment. Aylin reaches out and touches her beloved's shoulder with her borrowed divine magic. The arrow wounds and the burns, both radiant and from fire, heal but the blackened veins spreading out from her heart remain.
Her mind flashes to their time traveling across the lands. To healing a sprained ankle after the cleric hit an unseen hole in the wilds, a cut from a thrown blade in a tavern fight between adventuring groups, a crossbow bolt wound deep in Isobel's shoulder after an ambush, to healing sore muscles after a long training session. Mostly inconsequential injuries but ones Aylin would take time to gently heal as she checked Isobel for any other injuries. To kissing the remaining scars before pulling her into an embrace while the cleric laughs.
But not this time, Isobel's cold body remains of inert on the table. No laughter to ever escape her lips again. No eyes of moonlight to stare at her lovingly as Aylin heals her. No gentle hands to help braid her golden locks or weave through her hair as they make love.
She then grabs the robes placed to the side and with the help of the priestess dresses her beloved in fine white and silver robes which has been adorned with moonstones. She had seen Isobel in a similar dress during the ceremony to welcome in the new high cleric of Reithwin. Isobel's wedding dress was an even finer variation of these robes.
She straightens the headband and her hand lingers on Isobel's cheeks –with the mark of Selûne around her eyes and extending to the woman's cheekbones. A blessing from the goddess herself to extend Isobel's natural life before it was cut brutally short. before her larger hands fix Isobel's black tresses. The priestess (Aylin finally remembers Isobel introducing the woman as Maria) hands Aylin the woven circlet of flowers and vines which is then placed about the half-elf's head.
Another cleric, their name escapes her, hands Aylin Isobel's spear now with flowers and vines wrapped around the shaft. Aylin then places the spear in Isobel's hands so that the flat of the spearhead lays on her chest.
As she looks upon Isobel now nearly ready for her interment in the mausoleum Aylin feels tears escaping her eyes. The clerics grab arrangements of flowers and moonstones and place them around Isobel's form and the paladin can only watch on in her sorrow.
"Dame Aylin, it is time," Maria whispers as she hands her a scroll. She utters the incantation written on the scroll and the stone under Isobel levitates. She grasps edges of the stone nearest Isobel's head and pushes it towards the mausoleum under the moonlit sky.
As the clerics start the funeral, rain starts to fall. Her eyes land on the mournful figure of Ketheric Thorm as he looks upon his daughter. The funeral continues as Isobel's body is interred in the mausoleum and Aylin watches until her wife disappears in the stone building. Prayers of the clerics ending as the mausoleum is closed with the moon starting it decent.
Uttering a pray, Aylin looks to the moon.
'Mother, hear me. I renew my oath to you. I shall be your sword anew against those that would harm you and your devout worshippers. I shall be your sword of vengeance to wield and to strike down the wicked in this world. I will hunt down those that sought to harm you – to harm my beloved. I only asks that you grant me the strength to carry this oath as long as your light shines down upon this land – upon all realms under your watchful eye.'
'This boon you seek – will allow you to rise anew despite any blow something I can only give to those of my own divine blood. But daughter, this will not bring back your beloved.'
Aylin feels the moonlight seep into her skin and her eyes glow silver before her wings splay out in a burst of radiant light.
Little did she know the man stole glances at her with rage in his eyes and clenched fists.
Months and then years pass as Aylin dives deeper into the searching of the root of the attack that killed Isobel. With her own strength and the strength granted by her divine worship she struck down cultist group after cultist group – Bhaal and then Bane – after brutal attacks against homes and against one temple of her mother's with no trace or hint of being connected the murderer of Isobel.
But now she finds herself among the dead bodies of worshippers of Myrkul worshippers after two of their allies attacked Aylin. The arrows that were deflected off her armor and the painful few that dug deep into her body being the exact ones that were in Isobel's chest after she was attacked. Upon further inspection she realized the arrows were made of bone and symbols of Myrkul adorned the shafts.
Her wounds slowly heal as she searches the desks and bodies, but her actions are halted when she hears an unfamiliar voice in her head as a sending spell enters her mind.
"Dame Aylin, I am Balthazar and I am sending you on behalf of Lord Ketheric Thorm. Please return to Reithwin as soon as you can."
"I can be there in a few days, Balthazar. But I ask what is going on that requires me to return?"
A few seconds pass as Aylin dismisses her armor and grabs what books and pages she can.
"Priestess Maria and Priest Mertin have disappeared. After speaking with some of the dead it seems a creature of the Shadowfell attacked them."
"Give Lord Thorm my thanks for this information and I will be in Reithwin in three days. We should give chase when I arrive."
By day, Dame Aylin flies towards Reithwin and at night she reads the books and pages before she sleeps. But on the last night, Aylin finds herself unable to sleep after reading page after page and finding what she had been looking for over three years.
A simple letter marked with the date just before she traveled away from Isobel for the last time.
The angel will be in flight to Elturel. Kallista has been blessed and stands ready to strike should your arrows not strike true. Do not fail the Lord of Bones.
Rage flows through her as she crumples the letter and a vow to hunt down all worshipers of Myrkul after she helps Ketheric find Maria and Mertin. She summons her wings and continues her flight to Reithwin and swears she hears Isobel pleading her to stop over the wind rushing past her ears.
Reithwin at night is often a beautiful place - a place where Isobel and Aylin would glance around atop Moonrise Towers or even during flight with Aylin's divine wings. But tonight with no moon and clouds in the sky Reithwin looks miserable - perhaps out of the disappearance of two of Selûne's devout or reflecting how Aylin feels.
She lands in front of Moonrise Towers and dismisses her wings before entering. Ketheric and an pale skinned human sit in the dining room with glasses of wine. Ketheric's eyes flash with surprise and before softening.
"Dame Aylin, welcome. It has been a while, and you are looking well. Please take a seat. We weren't expecting you until tomorrow. Oh, where are my manners, Dame Aylin, Balthazar. Balthazar, Dame Aylin," the older half-elf gestures to the pale man next to him. The man stands before bowing and reaching out to shake Aylin's hand.
"Lord Thorm, Balthazar, forgive my sudden arrival. But I find myself driven to find Maria and Mertin before returning to other matters. Plus, if they are in the Shadowfell we will find easier passage on a night as such."
"My lady is right Lord Thorm," Balthazar turns from Aylin to Ketheric, who lets out a chuckle.
"Aylin, it is nice to see the years have not changed you. Let me gather my arms and armor – not all of us are blessed to have them come and go as easy as you.," Ketheric pats Aylin's arm before heading out.
Aylin's eyes land on a portrait of Isobel, in her younger years – shortly after Aylin was first summoned to Reithwin many years ago. She remains looking solemnly at the portrait until Ketheric's armored footfalls can be heard. His gauntlet covered hand lands on her as he joins her side.
"I miss her more upon each passing day. One day we shall be reunited," his eyes are filled with sorrow as he looks upon the painting of Isobel.
"But tonight, we have a mission, Dame Aylin," he steps away leaving Aylin in front of the painting. After another glance and a short prayer, she steps away from the painting. Before joining Balthazar and Ketheric outside the Towers and they start their trek out Reithwin.
"Lord Ketheric, I apologize. In my own grief and divine mission I have not checked on you," Aylin says as she places a hand on the man's shoulder. His shoulder sags – from the weight of Alyin's hand or from the weight of his own grief she would never know. His hand reaches up to touch hers giving it a gentle squeeze, "I know we both have had our own divine duties and perhaps one day we can make things right, Aylin."
After a while they get to an area that is pitch black and they are stopped by Balthazar's extended arm.
"The planes are weak here – it must be where the monster came from," his hand reaches out before seemingly disappear at the elbow, "Ah. Here!"
"Shall we," Aylin says as she rolls her shoulders as her armor forms around her body and her greatsword in her hands, "Selûne's light can't reach the Shadowfell but mine should suffice for a short time."
Aylin steps ahead and leads the two men into the rift between the prime material plane and that of the Shadowfell. Together, illuminate by the light seeping from Aylin's being, the three proceed deep into the Shadowfell. Jumping from rock to rock until they find cloaks of clerics of Selûne on one of the larger stones they have seen.
"Good bit of rocks overturned here. Perhaps the-" Aylin's words are cut off as the sound of bones shattering fill the still air of the Shadowfell. Before a scream is torn from her throat as she collapses to the side and sees her knee – or what's left of it buckles under her weight. Her greatsword clatters to the ground and the noise seems to reverberate in the emptiness of the Shadowfell.
Debris kicks up in her eyes and she has to blink to clear her vision. By the gods she hopes she is seeing things as she looks up to see Ketheric's warhammer swinging up to his shoulder. Looking on in shock she watches as the warhammer swings down from the resting position on his shoulder to her chest.
The sounds of metal groaning before giving way to divine energy and sheer strength precedes the sound of Aylin's sternum and ribs breaking. The air escaping her body from the blow and air continuing to escape her lungs as the splintered bones shred her lungs. Ketheric's gauntleted hands grab Aylin by the throat.
"YOU FAILED TO SAVE HER! YOU PROMISED TO KEEP HER SAFE! SHE. LET. HER. DIE!" The words are followed up by individual punches. Each one shattering bone and cutting deep into her face as the metal gauntlets become red with blood. The final punch sending her sprawling on the ground what she could see past the blood seeping into her eye was the ground starting to glow with arcane sigils- carved deep in the stone and covered up with a loose layer of rock.
She feels her body slowly healing as bone returns to their proper place and as organs repair themselves. Twisting to try to get up – to defend herself – to fly away – anything except continue to let her beloved's father beat her to a bloody pulp until eternity.
Her arms start to push her up, but she is stopped short as three feet of metal pierce her chest. Metal covered hands scrape her scalp before roughly pulling her up. Further up her own greatsword until she feels the hilt hit the back of her armor. She feels Ketheric angry breaths on the shell of her ear as she coughs blood out from her throat.
"Lady Shar will happily answer my calls with you here. With you here to strengthen her followers. I'll drain your immortal life force over and over while I build an army to strike down your bitch mother," he punctuates his vitriolic words by twisting the greatsword and slicing it – from her heart and through her ribs. As the blade is jerked through her body her armor dissipates as the light around her dims.
As she slowly dies and gets reborn, she watches the arcane sigils around her all come to life. As life returns to her she can see a tether of silver moonlight reaching out from her before being met with a tendril of darkness from Ketheric. It stretches and stretches as Ketheric and Balthazar head from another direction.
As her heart finished repairing itself, she feels what is likely to be another golden scar form on her chest over the gruesome wound.
"My Lady of Darkness, I present my offering to you," Ketheric's words fill the air. As Aylin goes to stand and then take a shaking step she feels an ethereal hand form on her right forearm. Another on her left hip. And a final ethereal hand forms on her shoulder with fingers touching the golden scar over her heart.
A laugh fills the air and Aylin feels a cold like never before.
'Oh. Look at this. A little light,' a woman's voice fills the darkness.