Warning: NSFW
Chapter 5: Hot Springs and Runaways
You spoke to me in my dreams again, Ghost. You told me to find more stones, the ones I used during the battle. I gave you four. You’ve been with me for months now, and I see you growing stronger. But, you've been so meek these days. I wonder if it is something with me, are you scared, worried? I need to find a way to speak with you. I need to be able to speak with you
Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.72
Her pace was quick as she padded through the wet cobblestone streets, the humid air clinging to her hair. She landed down in Zelthuma just as the moon was beginning to rise over the eastern seas, the storm she had been following veering north. Watching from the high vantage point over the walls, see the snow fall as it passed over the next set of hills. That river snaking its way through the plane, the only trees around this scrubby marsh visible on the sandy banks of those beaches.
"You need to understand, Darling. We need you here, we need you to help protect the village." Mother Afjie's voice still ringing in her head, cheeks coloring with anger as the conversation replayed again. She had flown from the Valley all the way up here, hoping to seek answers, hoping to clear her mind of that. Shoving the feeling down, smothering it. Her training was taking over, suppressing her fury.
She passed under those strange lights the humans liked so much; it would have been much more comfortable if she had summoned the mists around her. But, she was too far away from the Valley to call them such a distance; she would need to make them herself. A task that would draw too much attention, as it were, her hair sticking to her neck annoyingly. It was well past midnight here, the lights in every window out. Only the sound of the wind as it blew across the tops of houses in the mountain district.
"I don't care what the family needs, Ma! I didn't choose this path! I want to feel like my life means something to these people. Am I just a tool to them! All for a crime I never committed." She sighed, seemed she wouldn't be spared the conversation again. She hated how she sounded, far too loud, far more angry than she thought she sounded. Stepping softly toward the direction she was told about, the church in the stone.
"Baby, I know! I never wanted this for any of you. I've done the best I could with the situation I have been given!" Afjie's words hurt more the fourth time around, shaking her head at the thought. Rounding a corner, flexing her wings down to hide their soft glow from a pair of drunks wandering back home from some tavern. One was propping the other up as the other dropped his bottle to the ground. They were saying something, but nothing she could understand. It was slurred beyond comprehension anyway.
When they had passed down the block out of sight, she moved forward again. Making ground toward the mountains, the undercroft of the stone jutting out sharply as steam pooled in the ceiling of the structure. "Then why do I have to stay, Mother! Why can't I go where I please? Why do I have to be a part of the Shrine Guard, can't I just do what I please if the Family doesn't care?" She started grinding her teeth the longer she thought about it. Looking up at the jutting rock, she wondered if the thermals in there would have actually let her land anyway, instead of second-guessing herself.
Watching the pumphouse and its steam engine puff away, the small stream in the ditch she walked next to as she finally got under the rock enough that the stars disappeared. Her wings still hidden behind her as the lantern in the small building popped on, an old man got up with a stretch. Waving at her as he spotted her under one of the streetlights, he shoveled more coal into the boiler of the engine. She could hear water rushing under her a few moments after he finished, turning the lantern off as he went back inside. Thinking the pipes must be close to the surface if she could hear them like that.
"It isn't just them that needs you, I need you too. I need all of you. I raised you as my own when you were just a baby. I know it isn't fair. I never asked for my position either, but my power is fading. You, my darling, are a bright flame yet to set fire to the stars." Memories flashed through my mind of growing up with her, always seeing her as my real mother. Never having met my own, every happy thought, every lullaby sung to me during the storms, every sweet treat she brought to us.
Watching her feet as she walked, the small brass beads around her ankles jingling softly in the quiet night air. Not noticing the style of the buildings had changed, not noticing more than a few lights on in the windows of the Chantry proper. She had been taught that the springs here were a sacred place, the city having been built around them. The Ascendant Butterfly was more fond of coming here and ever visiting them inside the Valley, another thing that just made her blood boil. What was she protecting? What was the point in shrouding the entire valley in mists? Why hide the Shrine at all? "We let the humans in our territory anyway! We let them in the hot springs, they find their way to the groves, and they hunt our food. Why are we so scared of them, when I can just turn them to ash!" The slap Afjie gave me hurt more than her words that came next.
"Young blood craves action, but you know why we don't. I've told all four of you that story more times than I can count; they are dangerous. Let them get lost in the mists, they ask for our help then. Let them not understand the monsters that hide in the fog; they'll beg us to save them. They take so little from us that it doesn't matter. I've told you, having them think we are their friends is better. You are letting your emotions get in the way of the bigger picture." The conversation playing out more, suppressing her anger like a geyser building pressure.
Yet like a geyser that had given up, all her steam evaporated as the rest of the argument continued despite her not wanting it. Afjie grabbed her in a tight hug, "I would wait here like a dog for you to know that we love you here. I just want you to be as happy as I can give. This anger, I know where it comes from. I know much of it is my inability to make things better. But I've been trying for years to get them to change their mind about my Embers." She pulled away, putting her hand over where she slapped me.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you. But, girl, you infuriate me with that fury and bloodlust. Your parents never acted that way." Neaves turned away from her before she realized what she had said. She still could hear her yelling her name as she took to the air, hearing her call her name as I wove the mists from her control. Flying to here, this city. The irony of it, she still followed Mother's words in the end. She came to the place she was told would help, by her adoptive ma.
She wouldn't cry; she didn't know how after all this time. She wondered if Ryhs would understand, Pyria might. Erlin, she knew he would understand without anything needing to be said. Finally looking up, finally noticing all the lights on around her. Wondering if what Ma had said was true, that the Mistwalkers were welcomed in this city. Would be a first for her if so. Back in the shipyards, the men on the pier seemed friendly enough. The hypocrisy of her attitude only angered her even more. Was it because she was forced to do her duty inside the Valley? Or was she just lonely? Anyone friendly to her would have been enough?
Her thoughts swirling as she stepped up the final set of stairs into the chantry. The streams she had seen overhead all came from here, the headwaters of it all. Her wings masking its true nature, as they irradiated their own heat, more than the heat coming off the water. She thought nothing of it, not even feeling it. Stepping into the courtyard, the entire thing illuminated by strange lanterns she hadn't seen yet.
Fluttering up to one, she found they were made of paper. Peeking an eye into the top of the thing, she saw there was a glowing filament in a glass bulb. Floating back down to the floor of the, well, the massive cave with half a city built into it. She wondered where the wires were for the electricity to get to it, the only other times she had seen this was is Mistsdale. All their streetlights connected by overhead cables, though, she supposed that would have ruined the effect. They were quite pretty.
Knowing what Afjie had told her, the brass doors had the symbol of the clan carved into the front. Mother Afjie had told her that this place was safe, a place where we could more easily commune with the goddess. A place for the Mistwalkers to feel at peace, a place to ease their minds. Well, she was here, seeking just that. Wondering what to expect, wondering if they followed the exact same faith as her.
Walking over to the heavy metal doors, the soles of her feet were silent as she strode forward. Her wings picking up most of her weight, she lifted the heavy knocker poised to strike it. Just as she was about to let go, the door swung inward noiselessly, pulling Neaves through. Never having enough time to let go of the knocker, the force forward was enough for her wings to gather enough lift to let her glide through the entryway. Stumbled but caught herself, spreading her wings wide to balance once again. Feeling like she could have made a far better impression on her Siblings in Azu.
The gravelly voice of a Dwarf greeted her in a reverent manner. "Come, Child, Gjorn has always told us to treat your people with the same respect as we would our own. So please, Sister, come." He motioned for the acolytes of the chantry to clear out the shrine for Neaves. Though few members of the order were inside this first chamber, they obeyed the dwarf and his words.
"Who, you?" Her broken common annoying her, thinking she should have spent far more time practicing it with Erlin. He was far better at it; he was the one who always did the talking when they had to hunt someone or something inside the mists. He was the kind one, not her, at least to her mind as it were.
"My name is Brother Fjokt. I am a Priest of our Fair Lady, Azu. Like you, I have dedicated my life to her warmth, to seek beauty in all aspects of life." His voice was so calming, her shoulders relaxing to know she had found the right place.
"As in her sunshine, we rise," I said to him, the same prayer I was told we all used.
"And in her moons, we rest." The Dwarf smiled happily up at me, brushing a loose hair from his beard. "What do you seek here, Sister? Do you need rest? Are you hungry?"
She didn't understand him entirely, not knowing enough Common, but the prayer he said back to her. Shaking her head, she made a placating gesture, hoping he would understand. Brother Fjokt cocked his head, listening to the strange, almost avian language she was speaking. Trilling vowels, staccato consonant sounds, a constant crescendo in her words. He raised his hands, stopping her trilling.
"I'm sorry, Sister. I, too, do not understand you. There are others who can." He pointed at her, making a scrubbing motion on his skin, and pointed back to her. She nodded, reaching up behind her and pulling at the shawl around her chest. Only for him to stop her by pressing the now loose cloth against her chest. While he blushed from staring at her bellybutton for such was his height, his hands were where they probably ought not be.
"Sister, not here." He said, turning around quickly as it fell to the floor anyway, he muttered to himself, "Think before doing that again, Fjokt. At least what they teach me about the Mistwalkers is true." Covering his eyes, he made a motion as best he could, telling her to put that shawl back on. After a moment, she tapped his shoulder, peeking out from between his fingers, he saw she was dressed again.
Sighing, his shoulders slunk down. He didn't bother speaking the second time around, just making an eating motion, where she nodded her head. "By her radiance, I wasn't prepared to deal with her children under this moon." While the Dwarf was more than familiar with nudity in the chantry, especially when it came to his goddess. It still forbade them from viewing another's body if they didn't know what they were doing.
Ushering her into a side chamber, "Sister Mary," Fjokt called out into the chamber.
"Yes? Brother? Oh!" A pleasant young woman rose from one of the alcoves. One holding a statue of a feather in flight, a candle burning slowly in a sconce. "Well, what a pretty thing she is. It has been quite some time since one of her chosen has visited us. Mother Afjie was the last, yes?"
Neaves’ eyes shot up from eyeing the woman in that far too thin getup, the name of her mother getting her attention. Though she noted the feather necklace, the same as her own, reaching a hand up to make sure it was still there. Then again, now that she looked at the Dwarf again, his robe was just as thin. "Ah yes, Afjie. She was quite the conversationalist in her youth. A perspective on the faith that I think few appreciated. That being said, her reaction at least tells us she's still alive."
The younger woman, the longer Neaves stared at her, wasn't so young after all. She noticed the crows feet at her eyes, the grey hairs running through her dark chocolate brown hair. Still, she was beautiful; she had to find something else to look at. But, was given more than enough to take her attention as she bent over, she promptly handed Neaves a plate of food. Fresh bread and soft cheese, the loaf still warm.
They guided her into another room, one with soft chimes playing somewhere in the back. Polished marble benches, finding herself one with a comfortable cushion, enjoying her food while a strange steam filled the room. Playing with the steam, moving it from one corner of the room to the other. Her hair stuck to her neck again in the even higher humidity. Another woman with soft hands began combing Neaves' wet and tangled hair. Though she was finding more and more cause to use it, she spoke to them in the broken Common that she knew. "What, why is doing?"
"We know the truth, we know the reasons." This anonymous woman turned Neaves' head forward as she tried to look at her. Those hands were surprisingly strong, as the chimes quieted the room. "We know the chosen children only appear when their mind is in turmoil." Her voice mimicked the now-silent sound in the room.
“The Sons and Daughters of S…" She stopped herself before continuing, "Azu are always welcome. There are not many on the Branches of the tree that can claim heritage to the gods themselves, now are there?" The woman said somewhat too quickly for Neaves to follow. Not fully understanding, or for that matter catching, that she understood these words completely. "She told us you would come. Prepared for your arrival, a truth you need to find. Yes?"
"Why, help? How, she, know? You." She asked, feeling a little foolish at her inability to speak fluently as she would in her own tongue. Yet, her eyes wandered the room, wondering at the grandeur of it all. While completely out of her element, she wondered if it was only because these people shared her faith. Afjie had always told her that those who rest under the wings of her glorious incandescence would find a friend in each other.
"Would this help?" A priest asked in that same too-thin robe walked in, a pair of blinders over his eyes. Thick white cloth, allowing no amount of light through, the symbol of the Clan stitched into the front. Striding to Neaves, confidence in his steps as he dodged the other benches with ease. She wondered how much they practiced this trick, or if he was really blinded at the moment.
The woman behind her had very suddenly removed Neaves' sweat soaked shawl, the wrap around her waist following without preamble. Sitting there, while looking down at herself, plate still in hand, she turned to see that the woman behind her was also blindfolded with the same cloth. The woman handed her a clean traveling garment, far more suited to the roads and mountain skies. Thicker, better built than the casual clothing she wore in the village. The stitching closer together, better cloth, and reinforcements in the areas where it is meant to be tucked back into itself.
Sister Mary and Brother Fjokt had entered the room, blindfolded as well. Though they both took the clothing from her, setting back in the other room. Her travelling clothes went with them; she hadn't even noticed right away. "What, about?" Neaves tried, her trilling voice making them smile for some reason. Becoming more and more unsure about all this as things went on, she knew this ritual. Having been taught it many times.
The nameless priest cleared his throat, "Would this help?" Neaves suddenly realized the man had spoken in her own language. Noticing now that the blindfold also covered his ears, reflexively, she reached up to her own pointed tips.
She stuttered out, "Ye-yes, it would. Thank you, for ah. Are you one of my people?" She'd figure she'd ask, Fjokt had said there was someone who would help. As it were, she didn't see any wings under his robes, at least if they were, they were so flat against his back that she couldn't tell. Pressing her own down, hiding them entirely along her back as well, following the curve of her spine.
"Think nothing of it. While this isn't a bathhouse, we would offer the road-weary a place to cleanse themselves. I trust you understand what we mean, Sister." He said, bowing to her in an all too familiar way, she did the same for him, splaying her wings out.
"This just keeps getting stranger by the minute. Are our ways really so tied to our faith that this, whatever he is, knows?" Neaves thought to herself. The woman behind her handed her a bar of soap, a hot scented towel that filled her nose with cinnamon, cloves, and cayenne.
"After that, you can tell us what ails you, and we will offer any help we can." He said, holding his arm out for her to hold onto, glancing down to the floor, which was covered in a thin layer of water. "Brother Fjokt said your name was Neaves? Our Fair Lady never mentioned your name."
"So I really was expected? Why would the Ascendant Butterfly tell you all that?" She asked, not bothering to cover herself with the towel. Reaching up and taking hold of the man's arm, rising. If this was going to be the same ritual she knew, it would only get soaked soon anyway.
"Yes, she also mentioned she blessed you with a vision. We commend your piety in that regard." The priest commented, Neaves tried to find any amount of emotion in his face. Then again, with half of it covered, it may as well have been a moot point. "Not many are chosen to be given a direct message from her warmth, while we may be able to speak with her, she teaches more than she instructs for those in the chantry."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this vision she gave me, some village in the far west. A Goblin woman's face, some threat in the distance. I don't understand it." Neaves responded as they reached the door.
He opened the door for her, her eyes going wide as she was wrapped in awe at the splendor of the main Shrine. The fire in her wings glittered softly off the fountains leaping from the basins of the cool water, the polished marble floors offering a mirror like reflection that even a noble woman would be jealous of. Her skin was covered in goosebumps at the magnificence of it.
"Her light will guide you through the darkest night, even though her moons may not light up the sky. The sun will always rise the next day." The priest said, offering the crook of his arm again.
"Mother Afjie said the same thing as well," Neaves said, taking his arm again.
Walking in the direction of the main fountain, he spoke somewhat more somberly than before. "She was always a wild soul. You mustn't hate her for the choices she's made. She is a wise woman, far more than your Hierophant."
He had her attention again, "How do you know Mother?" Her eyes trying to see through the blindfold on his face.
"She came here many years ago, seeking guidance, the same as you. Though her fears were far different from yours. Wondering what she was going to do with three Embers, she had never had so many in such a short period of time." He answered, his voice softening.
"What did you all tell her?" The conversation from before slowly entered her mind again.
"We told her the things she already knew, our Fair Lady teaching her that love comes in many forms. That the world was an evil place, but that doesn't mean that there aren't points of light in it. Small acts that keep the flames of love alive, as grand infernos burn away the things we wish to keep as well." As they rounded the fountain, there was far more to the Chantry than she had first imagined. Door after door, small alcoves dedicated to the goddess. Plaques with words she didn't recognize, prayer beads at every one of them.
"We told her that she should never look away from her mistakes. Raising a child is never an easy task. It is a labor of love in the hopes that they will one day forgive when patience is tested." He turned his toward Neaves, before continuing, "While we all make mistakes, never let your anger out burn your love, it will take both if you let it."
The slap to my face, her slip about her parents. It cast a shadow over her thoughts, trying to work to suppress the feeling in her chest again. They stopped just before the long hall that buried itself deeper into the cave, the priest turning to her again. "The door at the very end of the hall will be where you shall cleanse yourself." He said, "Do you wish to have a robe for the rest of your stay?"
"I'll be fine," She said to the priest, far more preoccupied with looking at everything around her than being concerned with her nudity. Wondering how much of the ritual she would actually have to do here. Back in the Shrine, the ritual was conducted in one of the hot springs inside their own chantry in the center of the city. They would strip themselves bare of everything, cleansing their wings with a cedar-infused soap. The point was to get their wings too heavy to fly, so one couldn't run from the Opening.
She had never undergone the Opening part of the ceremony; it was usually done with your partner to prepare them for change. She had seen dozens of these before weddings, but Mother Afjie had told her that this wasn't the point. That, while the clan saw it as a ritual to prepare their minds and bodies for their wedding night, that was only a half-truth. It was meant to prepare yourself to accept a truth you didn't want to hear. That sacrifices were to be made, that the fire in your heart was capable of igniting another.
She sighed, hoping that she wasn't going to have to bed someone here. Still, it was one of the trials all Mistwalkers eventually walked, always seen as a stepping stone toward understanding the Ascendant Butterfly's truths in this world. Then again, she wondered if she really wanted this. She wanted to forget that conversation with Afjie; she wanted to be something more than a Shrine Guard to her people. She wanted to be free.
Stepping forward, a woman sitting at the end of the hall began talking, her voice echoing through the halls. "Her fires ask not what you can give."
The stone was warm under her feet, undaunted by her voice. "Her fires ask not for your love."
The woman was pretty, her long hair obscuring part of her face. "The fires will not hesitate."
She knew this; she had been taught this her whole life as she wielded the fire in her hands. Control, calm, and stillness were what was needed to hold a fire. The woman was framed with a mural of the skies above the undercroft. "The fire burns without fear, leaving nothing behind."
As she walked up to this priestess, she didn't react. Waving a hand in front of her face, she still didn't react. Watching her chest rise and fall, Neaves at least thought it was good that a corpse wasn't talking to her. Her eyes were closed as if she had been talking in her sleep, unresponsive to the world beneath their lids. "It only asks if you can be reborn again." The door next to her opened without anyone having done so. Only briefly turning to the still priestess, pausing just long enough to wonder how many strange things she'd encountered today, before stepping into the next room.
The chamber that held the Bath, if you could call it that, was something oddly familiar to Neaves. The marbling stopped at the doorway, giving way to rough sandstone that waved in fossilized patterns of ancient seabeds. Steam coming up from the pool gentle lapping at its rim. The soft sound of water trickling from somewhere she couldn't see was somehow soothing to her.
The hot spring was one of the last things she had expected; then again, she was told that this place would be something that the Valley held sacred. It reminded her of the humid and foggy forests that carpeted the floor of their vale, almost believing she could hear the quiet drone of dragonflies above her. Almost believing that she had somehow stepped back into the sanctuaries she knew. The cave ceiling above her was the shortcoming of it all.
Quickly slipping into the pool, grateful for the familiar sensation of her wings being soothed in the heat of the waters. Wondering for a moment back to why she thought about why she sat in that thunderstorm. Why were they so eager to enjoy the volcanic springs, but terrified of a little warm rain? The rain never put out the fire in their wings; it only stung a little. But this? The inferno of her wings doused the second she let them touch the water's surface, their real patterns showing through. The black scar where her wings had torn during her baptism of light was prominent, unable to be hidden.
Lying back to float atop the surface, the hot water eased the tension she held in her shoulders and back. Not even realizing just how stiff and rigid she held herself here, "Not so confident are you, Neaves. Holding your body too tight that it might snap." She said to herself. The steam in the room made her sleepy as the warm water flowed around her. She lay there for quite some time before remembering the woman had handed her soap, lazily moving her wings below the water to push toward the edge.
Bringing her wings around her, she began working the soap beneath the scales. Letting the bubbles puff out every iridescent one, the lights in the room throwing her colors in every direction like some grand kaleidoscope. Taking her time with each hindwing and forewing, the scar on her left forewing was still sensitive to this day, despite the events that had caused it being decades old at this point. Plunging herself deep into the pool, flexing her back while the water provided lift under her wings. Scrubbing the soap away from them in the turbulent waters, taking a deep breath of hot air as she surfaced on the other side of the spring.
They felt heavier, most of the dead scales that had come loose already falling to the bottom of the pool. She wouldn't be flying any time soon, the fires in them thoroughly snuffed. "Well, I suppose we'll begin the second part of my anointment," Neaves commented to herself. Finding the sandstone all around her to be far more useful than first thought. Breaking off a small piece of it, she swam back to the other side of the spring again to retrieve her soap.
Using the stone and suds, she cleansed the rest of herself. Almost enjoying the feeling of her raw skin in the hot pool, setting the items aside. She leaned back into the water, letting the slow eddies take her where they wanted. The soft pattering of the water over the stones in the corner, the water leaving the pool in the creek that wound its way through the city. It pulled her along, her wings sitting low and brushing the bottom. She thought about what she was honestly doing here, "Sure, Neaves. You enjoyed a nice bath, a full belly. Had a good look at a pretty woman. But, why? The next part, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be preparing myself for."
"Why are you unhappy, daughter of mine?" Neaves didn't react, closing her eyes. Her mind, unprompted, thinking back to the argument she had with Afjie before she came here. Lost in the maze of her own mind, not realizing there was no one else in the room with her, she answered. The lights in the room grow dim, casting long shadows over the young woman.
"I don't understand why we can't get along with the humans. Mother says that they wronged us in times past and that's why the Guardians exist. I exist." Stretching her back in water, comfortable just existing here. In this moment, she whispered, "I watch them in their shipyards, building those grand vessels. The life and movement in the city are interesting to me. So why are Afjie, Tythi, and the rest so afraid of them?"
The steam sank into the pool. Neaves didn't notice the shadows along the pool dancing to her words. "Aren't we the ones offering them safe passage through our Valley?" Her voice was flat, trying to keep emotion out of it. Her hard-beaten training kicked in, emotions suppressed under duress. Emotions made mistakes, emotions got the family killed. She remembered Afjie and the other warriors of the Clan stripping them of emotions over the years; they told them it was for their protection.
"Why is feeling such a bad thing?" The voice said, ephemeral, glancing off the surface of the waters. The cold air finally reached her over the hot water, pulling the rest of her torso under, enjoying the heat. Her wings fanning out to push her toward the side of the spring, with a quick motion, she was up on solid ground again. The weight of her sodden wings pulled her off balance, wringing the water from her hair.
She didn't answer the voice right away, thinking back to her training. The long days of meditation, the longer hours of learning to control her fire. The longest minutes of only Afjie smiling at her accomplishments, the rest of the village not giving a damn about her or her life. The heat from her wings steamed the water out from under the remaining scales, frizzing her hair out in a great poof.
Hand on her hip, she finally answered that voice. The lack of anyone else in the room barely fazed her; she had seen enough oddity today that she felt like this was only another notch to her belt. "Keep calm, keep quiet. The Guardians must not be seen, they must guide the trespassers away without conflict. Keep outsiders away from the family, don't let them smell the adrenaline on your skin. If you feel, the fire feels it too. Control our fire, control our fates."
The voice did not answer, though she thought back to it. The time she was spotted at the shipyard, that group didn't try to intercept her, didn't try to stop her. She could faintly hear a harp being played in the main chamber, walking out. Drying off with the towel they had handed her at the start of this, tossing it to the side, forgotten. Peering down the halls, she noticed most of the doors had been shut. Screens had been placed over the alcoves of the goddess. Leaving only one door open for her to wander down, that same still priestess, ‘watching’ her, waved her toward the door.
Her hair still hiding her eyes, the woman didn't even flinch when Neaves moved her hair to the side. Her eyes were milky white, blind. Though Neaves could still see shots of cerulean through them, like sky trying to peek through the clouds. They were something else, beautiful little jewels in the woman's face. The still priestess looked up at Neaves, smiling sweetly while waving to the open door again.
Walking through the proffered door, and stood in awe at the shrine. A seemingly endless hallway, columns of archways spanning the entire way down. The floor was like a placid lake, thin tendrils of ivy growing up the stone lattice work, though their lack of sunlight didn't seem to matter to them. "There is merit in control, though if control is all you are after, then you are missing much." The voice sounded as if it were coming from further down the long passage. The pity in its voice gave Neaves pause.
Walking toward the sound, not particularly knowing what was down there, but unafraid of the conversation. "Then what am I missing?" Keeping her voice measured, already having endured enough strangeness for the day, this wasn't one she would back down from. There was something familiar about this, tiled murals passing by her, depicting a raven swallowing the sun.
"A sense of belonging. You are an Ember, a child shunned by all by your Mother Afjie. You grew up never having known anything besides her; you grew up with a duty you didn't understand. Now here you are trying to feel like you belong to something greater." The voice was kind, a patient tone impervious to the denials it had heard time and time again. There wasn't much she could say; she supposed that was what she was angry about, finally, the argument with Afjie leaving her mind.
"I am not! I feel fine with the clan, I feel proud of my duty to the Family, to Mother, to them all! I am not ashamed or resentful of the culture I was born to." Neaves shouted, her voice like the vile things we say to ourselves echoing back to her, louder, harsher. Distorted the longer it bounced from wall to wall.
She passed more murals, water seeping from the white stone walls. A raven taking flight with its wings set a flame, the burning streaking from horizon to horizon. The passageway grew shorter the more she paid attention, the voice responded. "I never said anything of shame or resentment. You did. Do you resent your people?"
Neaves didn't like where this was going, archways passing overhead like thoughts floating on by. "I... I don't know." She stopped to stare at a mural, the raven having laid an egg amid a burning nest. Flicking her eyes to the next, the sun was glittering inside the raven's eye. Not a reflection, but inside it.
"Then why do you feel this way? Was it not you who harbored in your mind that emotions are unneeded for your duty? Was it not you who came here, and for what? Clearly, you see value in feeling. Alive? Purpose? Sanity? Do you seek a place where you can heal? A place where you can grow?" The voice was louder, calmer, sweeter.
"I was just a child, I hadn't even opened my eyes yet to the world." The words whispered from Neaves’ lips.
"So you resent the path chosen for you." Neaves rounded a pillar just on the outside of a central dais. In a grand fountain rimmed in silver and gold, there stood someone. Clearly, the source of the voice she had been speaking to this entire time, Neaves stood unsure of just what she was looking at. Her form shifted slightly, like viewing a reflection on water.
Feathers falling from her, another wave in her reflection later, she had wings like Neave. Like glowing sunlight, a plume of feathers ringing her neck. Neaves stepped forward, remembering where she had seen them before. Azu, Syn. She wasn't facing her, but the voice was different, somehow wrong. But it was her, Neaves told herself, it had to be her. All these priests here were telling her she was expected.
The woman with flowing black hair turned, bare, the same as Neaves, her iridescent monarch wings burning softly despite the water sheathing them. "Azu?" Neaves asked, taking slow step after slow step toward her.
"Eyes clouded by hate, by abandonment of her people. Yet she can still find peace and beauty in the world. The quiet moments basked in the warm waters to soothe away the nerves, to unclench the jaw and relax." Azu reached a hand out to her, offering for her to join her in the pool. "Yet she still sees the things we have shown her."
Neaves reached up to grab her hand, while the goddess continued, "Able to see the beauty that surrounds her, able to see even the smallest pieces of magnanimity in a blind girl's eyes. Yet you claim that you have no need for feeling," She pulled Neaves into a twirl, just barely holding her over the surface of the water. "Yet you constantly search out for things to feel. How can you deny yourself the simple dignity of enjoyment? You sat through a thunderstorm just to feel the rain against your wings. You love your Mother, yet have never met her. You hold everyone at arm's length so you can, what? Tell yourself you don't need to feel to protect them all? You deny yourself a basic need, you deny me the beauty of seeing one of the children grow."
Neaves slid down to her knees, looking at her reflection in the water, legs tucked under her, wings tucked away to not be seen. Her eyes looked tired, her hair frizzed, the scar on her wing staring back at her. Only she felt the warm arms of Azu wrap around her, saying nothing, only holding her there. Waiting patiently.
