Chapter 7: Searching Disclosure

What do you want from me? I see your strength grow week by week. I see you grow healthier. Yet, you do not speak. The world sounds more alive with you around. I gave you the stones. I gave you the thing you said was your power, so why can you not speak now? Ghost, I need answers. Why do you know so much about us? Who are you? What are you?

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.75 Neaves

Smoke filled the valley, suffocating as it pushed the mists away. The Eternal Fire in the Shrine extinguished, dead lying all around. I pushed open the door to Afjie's home, she wasn't there; the walls crumbling into char as the fire burned hotter with the open door. Time slowed as the inferno billowed out like the open maw of some terrible beast. Throwing myself backward, the blow out still singed my skin in blisters and burns. 

Looking around, trying to find anyone alive, scrabbling to the closest body to me. Turning them around, the bullet holes through his chest still fresh and bleeding, the Hierophant. Stumbling backward, his blood staining my hands, panic setting in as I heard boots and gunfire from the lower levels of the Shrine. Siphoning the fires away from the buildings as I ran toward the ancient stone stairs, they burned my feet as I ran. 

A group of humans, guns raised to the others, hands raised. Their wings torn and bleeding, my hands moved before I knew what I was doing. A column of fire erupted from my hands as I roared with fury; only their feet left in their boots remained as the ash fell from their cremated bodies. The metal in their guns had been reduced to molten pools cooling on the Shrine's floor. 

Looking back at the group, they were already dead. Running over to them, looking for her. Where was Afjie? She had to be here somewhere. Getting back to my feet, I ran down the rest of the stairs. Stopping in my tracks, the human army raging with the fires they set. Artillery raining shells down on the village, their soldiers picking off the Family one by one. Falling over in surprise when someone spoke next to me. 

"I told them all this would happen. They didn't listen, thought I was crazy for suggesting that they would take this route." A small woman, barely taller than my waist, was standing next to me. Her ears were massive, her skin the color of evergreen, her bright purple eyes watching the carnage taking place in my home. But I knew this woman; she was from my other vision. 

"This needs to stop! Why aren't you doing anything?" I screamed at her, and she finally turned her eyes toward me, pinning me to the spot. 

"Do what?" The world went cold around us as the scene evaporated into nothingness. The village being burned, my people being slaughtered, it was just... gone. "I told them that the valley made too perfect a position. Mistsdale is weakly defended; the eastern Watchtower would fall too easily. The Valley was protected from three out of four sides." She spoke, though she sounded like she wasn't talking to me. 

"What are you talking about?" I sank to my knees, wondering if this was another vision or a nightmare. 

"I know what they are going to do; they didn't listen to me, Neaves." Looking back up at her, staring through me as if I was never there. "Follow me west, I can help you as much as you can help me. The Valley will fall in this war; there isn't any other way this happens. Huron's walls are high and mighty; Galus is too strong to attack without severing supply lines. The Dwarves serve whom they please; the North will be too hardened until spring for them to try. The Valley." 

She began to fade from the world as her voice lingered, "It's their weakest point. They will come." Leaving only me to sit and wonder what I had just witnessed. Wondering if this wasn't just some cruel and sick joke.

Rising to my feet, trying to shake the horror from my eyes. So many dead, blood slick on the stones of the Shrine. The fire having gone out, still, where was Afjie? Something ensnaring my soul, like a knot of branches caught in a flood. My wings burned in the darkness, melting as I couldn't control it any longer. 

My eyes snapped open, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Heart racing like the wind, looking wildly around the dim room in the early morning light. It was my room, the few possessions I had resting where I had left them. The small mirror on the shelves reflecting my face back to me. Like a panicked horse, my eyes bugged out, hair in disarray. My cloths sticking to me, having sweated through the thin blanket and everything else. 

Running a hand through my hair, my fingers closing around something that shouldn't have been there. Pulling it out, a black feather was held in my fingers. "A vision then?" My voice sounded wrong in this once comfortable place; this all felt wrong now. 

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.74 Pyria

He got up from between my legs, his weight like a promise to keep. It was still dark out, both of us having dampened our wings to keep Mother Afjie from seeing. Leaning back over me, running a hand up my inner thigh, he pressed his lips against mine. Pulling away from me, but I only wrapped myself around him again. 

His heat was intoxicating, melting whatever reason I had left as we started again. Being just too loud, he pressed his hand over my mouth, just enough light to see that smile on his face. Matching mine, my legs gave out as I let him take the lead. I loved the feeling he gave me, making me feel like being an Ember didn't matter, even just for a moment. 

Ignoring the bumps and creaks of the old house, everyone sound asleep, save for us. He only ever came in the night. We knew we were breaking tradition; we knew the other warriors would oust him for what we had. But, he didn't care about what I was, what I meant to the village, as he continued his work. 

My fingers marking his back, never letting him forget it was me. A hand through my hair, the sound of his rapid breathing mixed with mine. Bodies forgetting whose belonged to whom, hazy joy that burned through the night. He tensed at the same time I did, realities entangling as our joy peaked. Like the earth was moving beneath us, he collapsed to his side, eyes locked with mine. 

Breathlessly, his voice so quiet in the still air of the room, "Same time again tomorrow, Pyria?" 

"As if I would give you the choice," I told him while curling into him, his arms encircling me in their strength. His embrace tightened with my voice. Still, he needed to leave before he was missed, while I cleaned up. Pushing him away, he knew his task. Only to grab his hand while he rose from the bed, pulling him into another kiss before he left. 

Waving him away while his eyes drifted up and down my body, that boyish smirk making me wish he'd stay. But, we both knew he couldn't, shouldn't. Creeping back onto the ground below my window, the rush of his wings as he pumped air beneath him was the only farewell I needed. My legs still shaking, I'd have to find a way to piss off Afjie again. She'd make me do all the laundry again, keeping our nightly dalliance to ourselves for just a while longer. 

I tried closing my eyes, only for them to fill with dark crimson hair, his cold blue eyes. Like a frozen flame, I was jolted away by a loud gasp from Neaves’ room, though. Several other noises followed from the other rooms in the house, the pale glow of someone's wings as they knocked on her door. Erlin's voice, despite being quiet, was loud enough for me to hear through the door. 

"Neaves, are you alright?" I couldn't quite open the door to see what was going on, not being in the state I was. Another door opened, further down the hall, could have been Ryhs or Afjie.

"I'm, I'm alright." She sounded shaken, like she had just seen something horrible. I had only ever heard her sound like that on a few occasions; none of them were pleasant. 

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.75 Ilgor

"Illy," Her voice caught me off guard, rising from the shrine in the cave. "I apologize for taking the book from you. I'd love to have it translated if you'd be willing."

"I didn't know you knew my nickname," I told the Necromancer, the bright sunlight streaming in from the mouth of the cave. "I didn't mind you taking it and attempting to read it, I just wish you had asked me." 

She and Talia walked into the shade of the chapel, a look of apology and the sheer audacity that she'd do it again without hesitation plain on her face. Taking the skull-adorned hat off her head and putting it on the little girl's head, handing her a few pale blue ribbons. The little girl immediately whipped the thing off and wandered somewhere off between the gravestone columns, tying the ribbons in the thing's eye sockets. 

"I've overheard it enough. I hope you don't mind me using it. Ilgor doesn't roll off the tongue as Illy does." Azorez said, leaning against the shrine, looking down at me. 

It was a moment before I answered. I didn't particularly like it, but everyone used it anyway. "I suppose, I feel as if I know you well enough for you to use it." Crossing my arms, looking back up at her, wanting to know why she was here this time. She usually left me alone while I prayed in the chapel. "What can I help you with?"

Taking a deep breath before she spoke, like summoning the courage for something. "I would like to see how you speak with the dead, Priestess. I have helped your people come to terms with their loss, some of them, as it were, I should say." I knew what she meant. The first few days she was here, she told the Family the last words of many of the dead in the skirmish. Letting them know that they were not forgotten, that there was something after this life. 

Having watched on more than one occasion that ghost that followed her around, bringing something back with her, voices of familiar friends. Bringing news back to them, she had seen more than one mother cry, fathers, sons, and daughters. She quickly learned our own burial rites and assisted me with them with a reverence I wasn't quite sure was possible for a human. She was kind to them, everyone. While she didn't speak our tongue, her ghost translated everything it heard for her. 

Enough of the family had learned Common to appreciate her presence and the closure she offered. In the short time I had known her, I already trusted her. She told us of her place in the world and her unique position. That our village was far safer with her being here, Galus wouldn't have the right to oppose her in the eyes of the people. Known as many things, the Grave Bell, the Witch of the Dead, the Necromancer, the Saint of the Fallen, she held an important position in the eyes of the world. There was only ever one Necromancer at a time. 

"I didn't realize your altruism was transactional," I told her. 

"It isn't, I would have assisted your people had I known they existed before the skirmish. I am familiar with battlefields and the spiritual and emotional needs of any living being." Her ghost, Martha, appeared behind her, her dead milky eyes had never truly fazed me, used to a ghost of my own. "I'll let that jab slide, Illy. I realize you are still unaccustomed to the widerworld, and I hope you'll forgive me. But, while yes, you have recovered your strength, you have remained remarkably distant from everyone." 

"I have watched you humans, for years, learning your language, your ways, and what you value." I didn't know why I was feeling hostile at the moment.

"You missed the point, and that isn't what I was speaking of. You know full well what I meant." She parried my argument effortlessly. "I would ask you, why?"

"I'm just overwhelmed. Halgier and his men have been truly a godsend; the village is slowly changing. Gjorn and his lessons in politics are exhausting; there's just so much to remember. He says he's going to start teaching me his magic soon. I just wonder what that is going to entail. I feel lost." She knelt to eye level with me and pulled me into a hug. Feeling some of the tension wash away at that, I supposed I didn't know I needed that. "What is this for?" I asked, returning the gesture. 

"It is what I do." Was all she said. We just existed for a moment, not letting the worries of the world seep into my mind. It was nice, for a moment. Listening to my own breathing, as her ghost circled us once and drifted off somewhere deeper into the chapel. The weight of the situation I was in, suddenly dawning on me, was what I had been made into. I was the Chief, I was the Priestess. Now I am some Dwarven Governor, leader for my people, responsible for all their lives. "That is what I meant." 

Her voice pulled me out of my own head. "Huh? What do you mean?" 

"I don't see you eating with your people as they do with each other, I don't see you talking with them like you used to. I've spoken to more than a few of them. Remember, they all mentioned how distraught you are, your refusal to speak with them. It's been nearly a week since the last burial, and you've barely spoken to anyone except for your council. They tell me that they don't see the light in your eyes as much." She let go of me, rising back up to lean against the altar.

Thinking back to it, I suppose she was right. I did nothing but watch the Dwarves work, teach, and build during the day. Talking with Gjorn, Halgier, Ghet, Cori, and Knoll when he felt like it, beyond that, I didn't even remember the last time I had spoken with Caleb, Sh'ril. I slept, prayed, and watched. My gaze was on nothing but my feet; maybe she was right. 

Looking back up out of the cave, several members of the Family were watching us. Not a single one of them dared to enter while I was here. So that was it. They didn't know how I would react to them, typical for the Family. They did that with Yorm as well, when he was in a mood, no one bothered him... except for Mother. I didn't have a counterpart as he did, wouldn't. 

Sighing, I beckoned Azorez to follow. Walking up to the others of the Family, "Msry, are you well?" Hand outstretched to grab hers, the older woman smiled brightly as she returned the gesture. The others of the Family quicky gathering around to tell me of their days, playing with my braid as I did theirs. Having spoken to them for what seemed like hours, though I knew it wasn't that long, they told me what they thought of everything. 

They wished things weren't moving so quickly, but enjoyed the things they were learning. The Dwarves were patient and thoughtful when teaching them all new skills and trades. The older men in the group were surprised to be outclassed in a few situations, but like the Family they were, they rose to the challenge. A smile I hadn't realized I missed spread across my face the longer they talked with me. 

"Mother, Illy, are you alright?" Msry asked as she fixed strays from my hair, another woman holding my hand as they spoke with a joyful chatter. Though her question quieted the whole group, all their eyes were back to me. 

"I'm just," I paused for a moment, thinking. "No, I am not. I am sad, overwhelmed. I miss Mother, Father." Mentioning Yorm earned me more than a few sympathetic looks; they all knew I would miss Kari. Having known her as my own mother most of my life. 

"We miss them too, child," Msry said. I was one of the youngest Chiefs that had ever existed, barely into my role as the Priestess before everything happened. Appreciating her acknowledging it like that, it reminded me of how Kari would talk with me. "Their souls are in Bhal's hands. They wouldn't want you to suffer because of their absence. Kari always told us to remember the Fallen, to honor their memories,"

"For to honor them is to live on." I finished the rest of Kari's favorite prayer. The others placing hands on mine, Msry hugging me from behind. Maybe Azorez was right. I didn't realize how much bated breath there was around me. While everyone was coming to terms with it, they watched me. 

Pulling myself from them, "I'm sorry, but I promised our friend here to see something. If you could all bring the Family to the chapel tonight, I would appreciate it." They simply smiled at me, telling me they would. They left me standing there, feeling like I hadn't accomplished much. Still feeling empty and lost about much of this. 

Azorez finally walked up, setting a hand on my shoulder. Her expression, as always, was impassive, unreadable. "You look a little happier." 

"I don't feel any happier." I responded, "We need to head to the Tavern." 

"A bit early for a drink, isn't it?" She said as we began walking, the sound of the surf made me feel a little calmer.

"It's not for me. The ritual you want to see, we call the Ritual of the Stars. You must bring something for the Family to enjoy in this world; you must offer them rest. A chance to see the stars once more. We do this to let them know they haven't been forgotten," I began explaining as we passed by more of the Family, which I did stop and give them greeting. Cloistering myself away, trying to sort everything out, only put everyone on edge, so the least I could do was let them know they could still speak to me. 

"Will any spirit do? Or is it something that is tied to them in particular?" Azorez asked, watching me speak quickly with several more Family. 

"Anything will do, though we'd prefer to offer them something warm. Strong spirits are preferred in that case. Something of quality, if we still have a bottle of something they particularly liked in life, then we offer that." I told her. The wake of Family finally melting the ice I had allowed to grow was already noticeable. The beach was a little louder as more and more Family began speaking at normal levels. 

"You care an awful lot about their comfort. It's good to see. Almost every culture I have come across treats their dead with respect, like so." We ran into a group of raiders next, a group that Tyrk was friends with. They stood their ground in front of us, not moving until I acknowledged them. Asking when they would be asked to hunt once more, I made it clear to all the raiders that hostilities on the roads were now forbidden. No more raids, no more holding people up, no more theft. I told them that they could hunt as much as they wished, challenging them to see who could bring back the biggest beast. A challenge that had them smiling, I also asked them to look for a few specific herbs. 

They, having heard what they wanted, left in a much friendlier air, assuming they would go and brag about their challenge to the other raiders. I paused before turning to Azorez again, halting our walk to the Tavern. "We set up a table and chair for their Keystone to sit upon, a traditional rug that a Mother from generations ago had made just for this. No candles, no lights, no fires, we do not want to obstruct their view of the sky." 

"Bhal has no lessons that involve the sky, or stars for that matter. I have listened to more than my fair share of Calphiti sermons; you are the first I've heard speak of the sky with a sense of reverence." Azorez pondered. I wondered if she had meant to say that out loud, but answered her anyway. 

"Caleb had much the same reaction; he also thought our penchant for family was odd. In the desert, Bhal always favored the drifting souls. The ones with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Scoffing at the notion of family, he was shocked when he learned we called him the Great Father." I told her, walking toward the tavern once more, passing by one of the caves that had the frame of a bulwark, a quarter built. Dozens of the Family waving down at us, smiling. I returned their attention. 

"I've heard much of this Caleb, but I have yet to meet him. He always seems to be away when I have tried to speak with him. At this other workshop somewhere in the forest, or not in the village at all." She said, watching as they fitted another beam to the section being built. Thick, heavy, chemical soaked trunks, the Dwarves taught them. Though the thick-smelling chemical did take quite a bit of time to work, a week of soaking was just for a single log. 

"He is a private man," I responded, already seeing the cave mouth of the cavern we were hunting for. "He had a past that I know some of, but he holds much information of his life close to his chest. Our beliefs with the skies have been known since the days of the Darkness. The priestesses of old, all the way back to Rythia, spoke about it. We see ourselves as much beings of the air, the stars, the heavens as much as we are warriors and children of Bhal." 

"Interesting, a strange contradiction." Looking back at her, she was watching something on top of the cliff. A crane, lowering more lumber as the steam from the machines billowed out over the beach, a Dwarf operating the behemoth. There wasn't a hint of insult in her eyes; then again, there never seemed to be much in them. 

"That isn't the first time I've heard that. We can talk of creation later; you wanted to know more of this ritual. We choose a stone based on one of two things. How long has it been since they've been taken out of the chapel, or need. In my case, it will be both today." We had reached the cavern now, ducking under the heavy curtains and into the familiar, dimly lit room. 

The chatter of the tavern was a welcoming sound, no matter how many times I came here. With only the briefest of pauses in the noise as nearly everyone turned to look at us, just to continue once more. Hob was behind the bar top, handing bottles out to anyone who walked up and asked for something. There weren't a lot of us who knew the backrooms very well; however, Knoll had recently been taking Hob under his wing more often. 

The tavern ostensibly served as Knoll's home with his wife and the group drinking spot. More than our fair share of treasonous discussions, talks of the future, plans laid bare. I still remembered that night when they all but told me they would back me if I challenged Yorm. Shaking the unpleasant memory from my mind, Azorez spoke. "I haven't yet been here, a delightful place, all things considered. How many bottles do you have back there?" 

"Hundreds of racks of them," I said without any preamble, heading toward Hob as the room slowly got quieter the deeper we walked in. "Knoll lives in the back, the only one of us with his own cave, well, him and that mouse of a wife of his," I told her as I crossed the line marking the separation of barkeep and patron. 

"Ilgor," Hob said with a slight nod. He was acting as cautious as everyone else was, the Family not having yet come here. With a roll of my eyes, I made a show of getting as many of the others' attention. 

"Hob, do you always have to look down my shirt?" Putting on a shit-eating grin for him. 

He smiled and laughed as he didn't need to be told what I was doing. "Well, if you had anything to look at!" I punched him in the arm while out of the corner of my eyes I watched all the quiet, cautious looks disappear from their faces, the chatter in the room picked up like it had a tale to tell once the scattered laughs died down. 

Picking up one of the tankards, cleaning it out with a cloth. Watching as Azorez picked a bottle out from the rack behind her, and put a gold coin down on the bar top that was far too low for her. "What do we owe a visit from our moody and glorious leader?" I had missed his sarcasm, even if it had only been a few days. 

"Hob..." He turned to look at me again when her heard the contradiction in his name. 

"Ah, I see." Grabbing my hand, squeezing it before taking both of us into the racks in the back, barking back at the crowd. "Self-serve boys, I'll be a moment." Which got a round of cheers from the full tavern. 

I walked the racks with the Necromancer, looking for something specific as Hob caught back up with us. "I take it you still have lingering doubts." He said, closing the distance. 

"Why wouldn't I? I don't know what I'm doing with these Humans, these Dwarves." I said, fingering one of the bottles, leaving fingerprints in the dust. 

"Where is the confident High Priestess I had known. This is exactly," he paused, thinking for just a moment, "Well, not exactly what you wanted. But, a route to fly to the heights you wanted. To bring our people to their level, didn't you?" He crossed his arms, waiting. 

Walking down the racks further into the cave, picking a bottle out of its shelf. "Your confident priestess is out of her league," I said sourly, putting the bottle back. 

"No, she isn't." Hob responded, "What are you looking for?" Taking the bottle out of my hand. 

"What do you mean?" I asked him as he picked out a different bottle from a shelf I couldn't reach and handed it to me to inspect. 

"You didn't want blood on your hands. His. I'll miss him too, he was a father to all of us Orphans remember? But he would never have stepped aside and let you take control of the village without it. You are beating yourself up over something that had to happen." He looked down at me again. I hated that he was taller than me right now. 

"How could you have possibly known that was what I was thinking? What if I was talking about Mother Kari?" I shouldn't have said her name; my eyes started watering up at that. Turning away from him, setting the bottle on the ground. 

"You would have done that." I felt him put a hand on my shoulder, "You are using all this as an excuse." He walked past me, looking at older bottles, picking through ones about the age range I was looking for. 

He continued speaking as he perused. "The Humans, you've spent enough time around them that you are comfortable with them. That little entourage a few days ago proved that as much, heard you looked quite pretty in that dress. The Dwarves? What about them? They are doing everything you promised they would, they seem to respect our culture, and they've been teaching the Family. That King is always doting on you, both of them." He walked down to the next set of racks, disappearing around a corner. Azorez was nowhere to be found. 

"You miss Mother, so too do I. Gods damnit, Ilgor, I miss her too." I heard him go quiet for a moment, presumably to regain his composure. "But, it's the life we live. We have always fought to survive, we the raiders, disbanded. We all knew Kari would pass on not long after she made you Priestess; they all died once the ceremony began. We knew that. Chiefs come and go, raiders rise and fall, the Family endures." 

"I want to change that too." My voice sounded particularly hollow in that moment. "How can you possibly be the voice of reason here?"

I heard him from between the shelves, his shadow filtering through the dim light. "The fact that you have to say that should put you into some perspective, then. You always called me bullheaded, stubborn, and more fit for a fight than a conversation. But, I put my trust in you, we all did, do." That was almost unfair. 

"But, you aren't asking me why I am not as bent out of shape about losing both Mother and Father. That's what you want to know. I've known you for too long. Y'vet would have said the same thing, I imagine Yarsy, Ysry, Mori, Kath, and Myra would all be telling you much the same. We are all Orphans, we all looked at Kari and Yorm like that. But you." He had emerged from the racks on the opposite end, pointing a bottle at me. Walking over, he handed it to me, a vintage from the year I was looking for. 

"Were always Kari's favorite. You were always the Family's favorite, you have always been the Village's 'little girl'. Fawned over by all the boys, followed by the girls, me? Yeah, you're pretty Illy, but even now you piss me off too much. This little bit you're doing, I know you hurt, I know you miss them, but everyone else? We had to come to terms with it when you put that blade through Yorm's chest." There wasn't any heat in his voice; he just spoke. Eye's boring into mine. 

"You really feel that way?" I said, looking away from him and down at the bottle. "You think I'm acting out? You think I'm being dramatic?" 

"I never said that. You shut yourself away from the clan after the burials. We knew you needed rest. But you made no attempt until right now. They noticed. They are worried about you, and you tried to hide. I'm assuming this is for a burial, right?" He said, putting his hand over mine. 

"I'm not allowed to mourn in peace?" I told him, but he just rubbed his eyes. 

"You know I'm not good at this." He sighed, "No, you are. But, you are more to us than just a person now." He turned around, his back to me. "I'm sorry for how I sounded. But that's the word going around the raiders, sorry, soldiers. They think you've taken too much time mourning Yvet and Kari, they need you to lead. Knoll and Cori can only do so much; Ghet can't make decisions without going through you. At least that's what I understand from the Dwarves." 

Well, now that made me feel more foolish. He turned his head toward me, the scar I put around his eye staring at me. "You have such a way with words." He rolled his eyes and turned away from me again. "But, thank you, Hob. I've already started assuaging the Family's worry. I know I have been quiet, and I know I have decisions to make. I just need time to..." 

"We know, we still do. You just can't let it paralyze you like this. A still deer is dead one, remember." He told me, walking back out of the rack room. 

"Uncle Ghet's favorite bit to get us moving when we froze before a strike. Hob, do me a favor and tell the tavern that there will be a ritual at the chapel tonight." That got his attention, looking down at the bottle in my hand. A dawning look of realization on his face, nodding, he wandered back into the tavern proper. 

Walking back to the door a few moments after him, I saw Azorez sitting there in a chair far too small for her. Her ghost whispered into her ear as her strange, skin-chilling magic filled the air around her. "Well, Hob speaks rather candidly with you." She said plainly as she rose to walk with me. 

"You could have told me you wanted to eavesdrop." I huffed at her. 

"Then you likely wouldn't have had such a good discussion with him; he didn't say anything wrong in my opinion. Maybe a little less eloquent than I would have tried, but his heart is in the right place." She said, opening the door for me as she ducked under the low frame. 

"You really think I'm being dramatic, too?" Trying to keep the incredulity from my voice.

"As I have said many times already, healing takes as long as it takes. Hob didn't sound as if he had accepted their deaths yet either; he is only past the stage where it hurts him every moment of the day. He did raise a good point, though, you are a unique figure in the Clan. As unfair as it is, you will likely never be able to mourn for so long like this again." She said as we walked out of the tavern. 

"Why do you care about me so much? We barely know each other. I appreciate you assisting the Family with their mourning, but I've known you only for a few weeks." I stopped just outside the cave to look up at her. 

"Am I not allowed to have empathy? You may be a different species, a different culture, but you share many things that I, a human, can relate to. The last I checked, caring about another's well-being didn't stop at familiarity." It was her turn now to cross her arms, and finally her impassive demeanor took on an angrier visage. 

I had crossed a line there; she had told me what she does, I didn't need reminding. "You're right. It's just strange to have someone actually care about us. Me." 

"Ah, I see." The way she said it piqued my ears. 

Still, I turned back around and marched off toward the chapel cave. By the time we got there, several dozen of the Family had already started the setup. Hob and the others apparently had sent word quite effectively. Seeing Ghet with a few other Dwarves around him, chatting quietly, got my attention. But, before I walked over to them, I turned back to Azorez. "What did you mean by that?" 

She noticed Ghet as well, looking down at me again, "You think that because Yvet, Kari, and Yorm are gone, you have no one who cares about you. Am I wrong?"

I shut my mouth, not sure if she was right or not. Putting it out of my mind for as long as I could, Ghet had noticed us, walking over with his entourage of Dwarves. "Mother Ilgor." He responded coolly. So he too didn't know, were they all really so worried about me?

I grabbed his hand, swatting down his offhand as his lifelong training with his knives kicked in at the sudden movement. I pulled him into a hug, "I'm fine, Uncle Ghet." Letting go of him, apparently, genuinely surprised him at the perfectly performed parry. His knife sticking out of the sand, sheepishly, he pulled it from its earthy sheathe. 

"Sorry about that, Illy." He sheepishly said, putting the knife away under his vest. He had taken to wearing what many of the Human's wore. Wanting to follow my wishes to assimilate into their cultures a bit more, though still keeping a few habits anyway. 

"Well, I did surprise you." I laughed, a sound that made his shoulders relax. 

"I wouldn't have actually hurt you, you know that." He said, turning to the Dwarves and quickly telling them not to worry about anything, just a misunderstanding. 

"Of course not," I said, walking over to the chapel cave, watching as several dozen of the Family were picking through the keystones, hoping I would pick one from them. "I'm sorry, but I am looking to speak with someone specific today. I would be happy to do this again over the next few nights." 

The small crowd of older women looked to one another before nodding. Handing the Keystones to me to bless before restacking them in the columns. One of the women came over and told me that they wished to speak with their husbands; the recent amount of death in the Clan made them miss them much more than usual. "I promise I will do that for them," I told her. 

"So who all gets to participate in this ritual?" Azorez asked, Martha having reappeared again, whispering to her living sister. She noticed my annoyed look and added, "I am sorry for the amount of eavesdropping I am doing today, I am just very curious." 

Shaking my head with irritation, "Usually it is just the keystone and the Priestess. Though if someone wished to be present and only have me conduct the ritual for them, I can. Give the Fallen a chance to catch up with their family still in the waking dream." 

"Waking dream, I've used the term before, but are we using it the same way? If so, I have a better understanding of what this is doing." She asked with an uncharacteristic curiosity. 

Brows raised, I answered, "Because the priestess undergoes a trial of nightmares and dreams to meet with Bhal during our Ceremony into the sisterhood, we've always thought that death is just another dream from here to the Shores Beyond. Hence, an eternal sleep and a waking sleep. A dreaming dream, and a waking dream." 

"I would like to know more about this ritual, if there is enough time tonight?" She pressed. 

"Not tonight, I saw that they had guessed the ritual I wished to do tonight. They have already set up the table and chairs; the orders will be given to the Family to put out all lights tonight. I'll have to do the same for the Dwarves." I said to her. 

It was hours later as I returned from topside, Halgier and Gjorn issuing the orders on my behalf. The night sky was just beginning to set in full, a cloudless night as my voice filled the air. Keeping the clouds away with my humming. It wasn't missed by either of the Kings, watching as I could speak and hum at the same time, feeling the weight of the magic press on them. I wasn't so skilled as to be able to command but a single thing at a time, so nearly all the Dwarves' attentions turned to me as I walked back down to the shore. 

Only the sound of my voice and the waves amplifying off each other. Though my voice faltered for just a moment as the Ghost stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to me. She smiled as I neared, wrapping that tail around my waist. Reaching out to hold my hand as we walked back to the chapel. I didn't bother trying to talk with her this time; the last several times, she simply remained silent. 

She had told me on the day of the skirmish that the stones I used were her power, and a power I had given back to her. She looked far healthier than when I had first seen her, still skinny as rail, her ribs prominent. Hips sticking out like rocks in the sand, though she was starting to put some weight back on, her tail wasn't bony any longer. Her hair less patchy, starting to regain some of its strange colors.

Azorez noticed us both immediately, her head whipping up to us as she played with Talia. Eyes flicking from the Ghost and me, though it seemed like no one else could see her. No one ever said anything about a starved looking women tagging around me, still, she made me feel better when she was around. She always did these days. 

Wandering into the cave, I let go of her hand, feeling strangely cold without it. Her tail around me made me feel better as it tightened. Picking a stone that was old enough that she might know some information, Mother Ithari. She had died nearly four hundred years ago, surely she might know something. 

Taking her stone into my arms, several other stones clicked into place to take the weight of the missing stone in the column. Slow, measured steps, I began the prayer, pouring power into my voice. "Oh dear Mother, the light in which you cast to our world still gazes in time past to witness your smile once more. Oh Great Father, Grant us yet another day."

Her stone immediately began to glow, the rune inscribing her name the brightest of them all. I heard her call back, a smile twitching at my lips; the prayer had definitely reached her soul. Mother's staff sat next to the altar, picking it up as I walked out of the cave, the roots at the top glowing with the same intensity. "Time echoes forward as we wade through our battles, each day regaining a renewed sense of purpose. Oh, Sister of old, have you rested well? Has the Great Father, in his graciousness, treated you kindly? Please tell me about your mind."

Reaching the table and chairs, the bottle set and uncorked, I set her stone gently on the cushion placed there for her. Sitting up far more properly than I had in quite some time, I poured her a glass of the strong spirit. I was expecting a voice to answer, a voice that would be audible for all to hear. "Oh dear Mother, will you answer my call? Will you heed this younger Sister's wish? I seek your guidance. I wish to give you the gift of the skies once more."

In a flash, a constellation in the form of Ithari sat in the chair. Reaching over and pouring me a glass of the strong spirit. "Sister of times far off, pray tell me your name? You have been kind to let me see the glory of the night skies again. I would love to hear of your life." 

I was shocked only for a moment as she would vanish without me sustaining the ritual. The quiet murmurs in the background twitched her ears as she listened to me. "Mother Ithari, has Bhal treated you well? Have you enjoyed your rest?"

"Bhal welcomes all to his arms. I have rested soundly, though overjoyed I am at seeing the stars I have so long missed." She turned her gaze up, watching them move slowly overhead. 

"I am pleased to hear that, Mother. I am Mother Ilgor. The Family is well, happy, though I am not." I told her, taking a drink from the glass, one of the few things we would do when we needed an answer, take a drink. 

"Ah, child, what ails your mind? What can I offer to soothe your thoughts?" She said, turning her featureless face back to me, two stars where her eyes should have been. 

"I need to know if you have ever heard of a name. Vilorlith." I whispered, watching as she cocked her head and opened her ears to hear the name fully. 

There was a long moment before she answered, "I have not, child. It sounds familiar, though, like I've heard it but don't remember." That rang with the same kind of words the Ghost used with me. 'I'm someone you've always known, yet have never met.'

"What can you tell me about Rythia?" I pressed. 

"Such an ancient name, our first priestess. I was told stories that she had a voice that could command the skies, command the air itself. She once walked with the Great Father himself, when he too walked among the Clan. Mighty she was, in the holy book, she was spoken of as being an equal to the Great Father. Oh, what that must have been like!" Ithari said, the giddiness in her voice made me smile. 

"Do you know of a Great Mother? Not just any mother that was great, but a title using that?" I asked. 

"Hmm, older pages, nearly faded. Our village was attacked some time before I. Mother Kai was the last, from what my Mother had told me, who might know that story. Only whispers on the wind, I hear there was another book at one time, one older than the one now. Gone." She said, turning her head back to the skies. "You have such strange questions, child." 

I would need to look further back, older. If I went too deep, we would need to deconstruct columns to their bases to find those stones. Something that would very much anger the clan if done poorly. I began telling her what had happened to the clan, my sorrow at losing Mother and Father. Though knowing her time, I left our that I was also now the Father. Telling her of our deal with the humans, the Dwarves protecting us. 

"Chief Yorm was a fool to ignore warnings. You gave him time, you gave him grace, and he disrespected you by killing those humans. No matter how much glory for the Father he had earned then, the survival of the Family is what was important." She set a hand on my leg as she continued. "I, too, grieved long for my Mother; it was months before I could smile again. But time closes wounds; it may not heal them, leaving a scar on your heart, but it will get better." 

She told me more of her life and challenges as Mother, what she did in certain situations where she could look back with a sense of finality to it. Hindsight was a wonderfully cursed gift, the things she would have done better, the things she would have not done at all. In the end, as the sun began to rise over the horizon, her form began to fade from this world. 

"I have enjoyed this gift you have given me, Ilgor. I wish you well on your path. May we be granted yet another day." She told me.

"May you rest well, Mother," I told her as her form slipped away from this world. Resting a hand on her stone, existing in this moment.