When the Stars & Moon Align

---

Her head hurts a little less today, which after the late night spent talking with Gerhard about the vision, dream, or whatever Orianna is supposed to call it, she will take the little wins where she can. She is just gathering her order from the Mossy Mug Café — one large peppermint tea latte with just a dash of lavender which was quickly becoming her new favourite drink. She didn’t know what sort of beverage the friend she was going to see would like and so opted for one of the seasonal drinks — a maple hazelnut hot chocolate.

It was an easy walk to the Temple of Selune from the Academy at this time of day and with the cooler air it meant the warmth only came when the sun was shining directly on her. Already wearing her heavier linen uniform, Orianna was soon climbing the marble steps to the main entrance of the temple. She takes a moment to centre herself, going over the list of information she would share, then placing her hand on the door and heading inside.

Nessa is sitting by a large pool in the centre of the temple under an open roof. She’s in what looks like dirty overalls and her hands, hair and face are a mess. She’s looking at the altar, her eyes unfocused, and the monks, priests and clerics may glance at her but they pass her by.

Tentatively, Orianna comes forward, the soft clop of her hooves making a gentle ringing sound as she approaches. She keeps her silence, unsure if Nessa is in prayer or meditation. Hesitating for only a moment, Orianna kneels down near to her by the pool, her gaze drifting over to its still, mirrored surface in curiosity.

Nessa stirs as if waking from sleep, turns and smiles at Orianna.

“May the goddess bless and keep you safe in her house,” she says in celestial, and bows her head. Then, in common, “Orianna, it’s good to see you. Welcome to the Moonmaiden’s temple. Have you travelled far? Would you need food or a place to wash and rest? Or perhaps just some tea?”

Orianna inclines her head at the blessing, but holds up a hand for the rest. “I came from the Academy, so not very far at all. I was the one to bring you something, actually. Though I realised I didn’t know what you would like. I thought you might not have tried one yet, but they seem fairly popular.” She holds out the maple hazelnut hot chocolate to Nessa.

“Thank you,” Nessa is surprised and delighted. She takes the hot chocolate and inhales deeply. “Remarkable…” her voice trails off. “Is this magical?”

“If by ‘magical’ you mean it’s a potion, no. But it tastes divine, or so I hear. I have not had the pleasure of trying it yet myself. I have my own magical drink,” Orianna says, indicating her own beverage.

“It seems… I mean, I believe you but it is overwhelming and all embracing as if someone had managed to trap the scent of love,” she pauses. “Well perhaps more what I imagine that scent to be. I have never been in love but I read about it and people do seem to have such a terrible time…” she drifts again for a second then shakes herself and snaps back into the room.

“I’m sorry, I’m still a little unfiltered,” she blushes slightly. “It takes me time to put my guard up and I do talk drivel for a while. I’ve only… been here a few months. I am not… calibrated,” she twists her mouth awkwardly.

“But I have wanted to find you Orianna, so it is a strange miracle that I should wake and find you here.”

The young librarian studies Nessa carefully, making sure she is not waffling on in some kind of joke before she nods.

“Sometimes being untethered is freeing. Oftentimes it is not. I have been in such a state recently and… it is not something I would wish upon anyone, especially a friend,” Orianna says, her eyes slipping to the side a little. She brushes a loose wisp of hair back from her tired face. “I apologise for not coming sooner. The research I did into the triple-tongued language took longer than expected. Plus there was the care I needed to take to ensure I did not become corrupted by the- by it.” The hesitancy is minute but unmistakably there. “But I have answers… and then some. Are you free now? Or are you still in the midst of your prayers?”

Nessa smiles. “My service this morning has been the purity of labour rather than sweet devotion. I like the rhythm and the purpose of cleaning the floors. It is something real and it serves the faithful. But I am finished for the day,” she takes a sip from the hot chocolate and gasps. “And this is freely available and contains no enchantments? I can see why I was warned about the Dawnlands. But this is not the proper place for our talk. We may be overheard by the casual devotee. Would you come to my room? And perhaps on the way you could tell me how you carry starlight on your brow. I know so little about you, despite risking death together.”

“Oh! Um, O-Okay,” Orianna says, flushing anew.

Oiranna gets up taking Nessa’s lead for where to go.

“I think the best way to answer your question is by saying my gift of starlight is tied to my divining. I inherited these gifts from my father.” She says this last sentence rather quietly, hesitating over the words as if admitting them makes it real. “He is a very gifted seer. I didn’t think I would inherit his gift but the Cosmos saw fit to bless me…”

Nessa feels the silence Orianna places around her father and notes her nervousness at the question. She tries to shift the conversation to ease her guests’ awkwardness. “I don’t mean to pry, I have a professional interest as you can imagine. The stars and the moon see the same world and travel side by side — although people rarely turn to the moon to see the future, which is for the best. I find myself constantly stunned by events as they unfold and could not prophesy my way out of a paper bag. It must be nice to be prepared. Do you enjoy it?”

“I wouldn’t say that, no,” Orianna admits with a wince. “It’s more of a responsibility. My people say it is a Calling. Much like the Moon Goddess calls you to a deed, the Cosmos calls to me to See. You are here to do. I am here to receive…” Orianna frowns. “No, even that is not right. Not entirely.” She looks at Nessa. “What did you mean earlier when you said you have not calibrated?”

Nessa frowns. “Yes I did say that… I wonder why? I don’t usually talk about… well, myself in that way. I used to be more chatty but when you’ve been burned at the stake as a witch a couple of times you learn to be more discrete. Plus, burning at the stake is always such a disaster,” she opens her right hand and flames leap from it, white hot and almost impossible to look at. “People always forget that moonlight is sunlight and sunlight is fire. You can take out a small town if you burn the wrong kind of… how can I put this?”

She walks in silence for a couple of steps, draws in a deep breath as if committing to an action and stops, turning to look at Orianna. “Ok, so this sounds weird, although I suspect you may not find it so. Perhaps that’s why I said calibrate to you and no-one else. I am a Messenger, a servant of the goddess, and I am called or sent at her favour and bidding. People pray, I appear, is how it usually works. I do my job and return. Where I… dwell… I have a different…” she pauses, thinking.

“Imagine two houses of stone, one built by elves and one built by orcs,” she says slowly. “They may look similar but inside they’ll be constructed differently. They’ll have windows and doors and they’re the same but not the same. So here I’m one house, and there I’m another. You can’t really flourish on a plane unless you change to meet it. But it takes a little time for the new shape to settle and I don’t really know what I like when I begin a job — what food, music, company, that sort of thing. I have to learn all over again. While I’m learning my nerves are hungry for information so I can be over sensitive. I have to calibrate the appropriate level of sensitivity to pain, to flavour, that kind of thing. Sound odd?”

Though her expression is thoughtful Orianna firmly shakes her head to indicate it is not in fact odd.

Nessa takes a deep breath. “Well, either way, it is odd this time. I don’t know who called me, or who sent me or why. I don’t know my purpose. But I am beginning to think it involves you. I swear, Orianna, I have served the goddess in many places at many times but the Darkness that threatens the Dawnlands is so hungry. Since I have been here, fiends have stolen the High Diviner, dragons have assailed the city, these horrific creatures have stolen souls… I know they’re not linked but I don’t know why these lands face such horror.”

At this Orianna starts fidgeting with the feathers of the earring she wears. “I had heard stories of the things that happen here but it wasn’t until I came that I understood… I believe you though, Nessa, when you say you were placed here. I was much the same though less memory loss than you. I had a vision of myself in this place and my people saw it was a sign that I had to come here. I did not know why or for what purpose but perhaps, like you, it is because the Stars saw fit to join with the Moon so we could work together. Powerful things happen when the Spheres align. I know, my people have studied them for a long long time.” She smiles a little.

“But there is more than my research that you ought to know. I had a… well, I don’t know if you would call it a vision or a dream or… something in between,” Orianna says, her violet eyes slipping off Nessa’s face to look just beyond her shoulder. The light in them flickers like it is agitated or worried. “The power we have been facing spoke to me directly, showing me events that have yet to come. He also gave me his name.”

Nessa puts her finger to her lips. “Let’s speak in my room. I have no secrets from the temple but there are young priests and some knowledge can create panic or despair. Especially names that should be spoken with care. And I assume the power we are facing isn’t interested in Daring Heights attractive range of shopping opportunities.”

“You’re right. Forgive me. Please, lead the way.”

Nessa’s room is only a few metres down the temple’s white stone corridor — the bedrooms are set aside for pilgrims, acolytes and trainees but its clear Nessa feels at home. Her shoulders ease a little as she opens the door to her modest cell. A small window offers a view onto the square and the morning sun shines onto her bed, neatly made as if in a military barracks. Indeed, this could be a soldier’s room. Everything looks ready to pack at a moment’s notice, apart from the heavy bookcase beside her cluttered wooden desk. There are two hard wood chairs, so old they have been worn into shape by a thousand backs and feel as comfortable as an armchair. Nessa offers one to Orianna, sits facing her, swallows the last of her chocolate and pulls down a pitcher of cold water with two small glasses. She fills both then sits, leaning forward slightly.

“Would you mind starting from the beginning?”

The young tiefling nods before draining the last of her own peppermint drink and setting it down with a firm thomp on the simple desk.

“What you said earlier about ‘a hunger’ is not far off from what that strange language was speaking about. We have already seen proof of this, but this specific hunger can only be satiated by the spark of the divine, particularly those sparks from the Platinum Lord and the Many-Mawed. Bahamut and Tiamat,” Orianna clarifies. She looks down at her hands as she continues, gesticulating to help illustrate her words. “The one relief I’m sure you will share with me is those times we saw the hearts taken from the acolytes and priests bodies — that light wasn’t their souls. It is, or rather was, their divine power the two draconic gods blessed them with.” She looks up to Nessa. “Madeline’s soul was not in any danger. She should have been able to move on to the fields where her Lord awaited her.”

Nessa sags with relief and almost weeps. Orianna carefully reaches out a hand to rest on Nessa’s arm in comfort. She had no idea how worried the cleric had been about Madeline’s soul until now.

“The other part of the texts I decoded are more of a concern,” she continues softly, allowing a moment for Nessa to gather herself again in preparation to listen, “and follow the prophecy I and some other allies brought back from the Sunset Spine before the invasion.” Orianna pauses, realising she might be getting ahead of herself. “Do you know the prophecy I speak of?”

Nessa shakes her head. “I don’t know anything beyond what you and I saw together. The books in this place have nothing.” She waves her arms vaguely around the stacked shelves and mountains of paper on her desk. “Not even the Closed Library.”

She looks briefly despondent then perks up a little. “Although the Closed Library does have some very detailed books on the love lives of vampires.”

Orianna starts, a little confused. “Are these… factual books? Or fiction? Or are they-” She catches herself. “Ah, perhaps you can tell me more about these books later.”

Sitting up straighter in her chair, the young tiefling continues, her eyes bright with excitement. But there is a shadow of something else mixed in with the excitement, a worry perhaps?

“The prophecy is from an ancient crystal dragon by the name of Grougaloragran. I found a book of his prophecies one day on my desk. It was such a discovery! But not half so much as meeting the dragon himself. This was just before the invasion. As thanks for helping to protect him from an assault of young white drakes, he told us this:”

    The eyes of the king and queen shall soon awake
    Their madness comes as their sanity they will forsake
    They lay in these mountains since a war long past
    But now undeath will give them power unsurpassed
    Followers they seek in the cities beyond, an army to muster, a war to wage
    Be swift young adventurers and heed this warning,
        you must stop the dawning of the undead age

Orianna leans forward again, speaking in a soft quiet voice. “The second part of the texts spoke about the power building at an alarming rate. ‘Soon, we will be able to build a thunder’ and ‘the skies will blacken under dragon wing’.”

Nessa’s face is a mixture of confusion and horror. “First of all,” she says eventually, “if I am ever charged by the Moonmaiden with leaving a prophecy I am not going to mess about with obscure poetry. I hereby vow it will include names, dates and ideally a map reference. Do you know what it means? It has a power to it that I haven’t felt for centuries. Something is stirring but whether it’s cosmic realignment or something in me switching back on I can’t tell.”

A bout of nervous laughter escapes Orianna at Nessa’s frankness at the confusion of prophecies, an all too familiar feeling she has felt herself. “Trust me, I wish prophecies were as simple as receiving names, dates, and places. Cosmos above, do I wish it was that way.” Her smile begins to fade. “I have been wondering if the ‘king and queen’ from the prophecy could be Bahamut and Tiamat… But I’m not sure. What I do know for certain is the name of the power. It spoke to me…”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Nessa as leans forward, her eyes fixed on Orianna.

A familiar dull throbbing makes its presence known right behind the tiefling’s eyes. It seems her peppermint tea didn’t work for as long as she was hoping it would. She describes her vision in as much detail as she can, from the moment of waking up in the Dragonstone Academy to the moment when Cornelius and his counterpart tore the heart out of their respective high priests. Orianna doesn’t need to tell Nessa about her fear or the helplessness she had upon seeing the sequence of events happen despite her attempts to stop them. It is a position many an oracle has been in countless times, across all ages.

“But then, in the black flames above, I saw the face. I tried to run, to get away, but I was trapped there. I was unable to- to do anything.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I didn’t want to but I knew I had to speak to it, the- the undead.” She swallows, but her throat is dry. “‘What do you want?’ I asked them. ‘For you to witness,’ they all said to me. ‘What do you want me to see?’” Orianna looks at Nessa. “‘To witness the accession of your new god.’”

Nessa senses Orianna struggling against something. “I don’t know if it would help, but there are certain spells of protection and strength I can cast that might keep you safe if there is a peril in your story,” she begins. “We are on hallowed ground and dark forces cannot reach your body or soul within these walls. I think, for both our sakes, if we are to discuss a Name that claims such power, I will add the ward of a spiritual sanctuary around us and, if it helps, I can fortify you personally.”

Orianna shakes her head. “No. I’m just-” She stops herself. “I am alright,” she says firmly. It sounds like she is trying to convince herself more so than Nessa. “I have already told this tale to my partner and he agreed that I needed to tell others, like you, as soon as possible. He does not wish to see me facing this alone. He supports me, and is there for me, but often he is called away so he cannot come with me to face this…”

She takes a breath and straightens up. Twisting towards her bag she pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to Nessa. Written in a fine hand is a name and moniker:


“H-He claims I am to be one of his chosen, his Star Herald, meant to record his grandeur.” Nessa looks up to see Orianna’s lips pressed together in a firm line. “I told him in the politest way one can tell such beings that I cannot be what he wants, but he… he would not take my refusal.” Her voice changes and Nessa feels Orianna is quoting this Desathrax verbatim, even down to the tone and timbre of his voice.

“‘Do not worry, my chosen one, in time you will come to see the beauty and serenity that I offer. For now go to sleep and dream of my dark radiance that shall cleanse this world.’”

Nessa listens hard to the voice and looks into Oriannas eyes as the words grind out. She sees no spark of divinity or madness there, just honesty and doubt, but there is something about her story and the way she tells it that troubles her.

It reminds her of her first week in the temple when a young woman possessed by a hunger spirit from the Shadowfell came searching for solace. Sorrel Darkfire. An unusual figure in the temple. Far from holy but responsible for saving Rholor’s soul. The Goddess chooses strange tools but the job is always done.

Darkfire’s possession was too powerful to tackle — Orianna’s seems beyond her understanding, if indeed it is possession. She searches the tiefling’s eyes until the silence becomes almost uncomfortable.

“I do not think you fear this creature, am I right? I feel no terror in you.

“Or perhaps you have damped it down. But I agree, for what it is worth, with your partner. Names only have the power we give them unless it is one of the Dolorous Names and Desathrax is not a Lord of the Abyss or God of Destruction. Even if he achieves his goals, he will always be insignificant compared to the truly powerful.”

She waits to see if her delicate dismissal triggers anything in Orianna.

“One would have to be extremely dim not to fear this power and He who wields it,” Orianna says to Nessa, frowning, unsure what her purpose was in her line of thinking. “The awe and majesty He tried to instil in me has been joined by the horror at how real it was. I had no control of my feelings in that moment, but since I awoke, I have just-” She stops speaking and mimes putting something into a small box and placing it on a shelf, her glowing violet eyes never leaving the aasimar’s.

Her hands slowly come back down to her lap as she continues. “But you are mistaken if you think that He cannot achieve what He is after, Nessa al-Kiram. You never struck me as a fool, so I am surprised and confused why you are, what is the word… blasé?” Orianna says, arching an eyebrow. “About His power. If He were to reach godhood-”

Nessa nods. “It’s interesting. You briefly used his voice. Sometimes it is an indicator of possession. Diminishing the power crazed and their half witted attempt to compensate for their own weakness irritates them almost uniformly. Perhaps because their ambition comes from immense feelings of inferiority. If he was in control of you I would have expected his rage to burst forth. It didn’t. And yet you did tackle my dismissal, albeit obliquely. You are a Seer and wise. I wonder why? Did you take my words at face value or could he be influencing your thoughts or actions?”

“I don’t- No. He’s not. He- He can’t be… Can he?” Orianna asks, the careful calm that she has managed to hold onto slips and the look she gives Nessa is one of growing disquiet.

Nessa struggles to answer her in the right way. That the Seer called her Nessa al-Kiram for the first time struck a note of alarm and Orianna’s tone had always been so gentle, yet she toyed with calling Nessa a fool. She barely knew her but the reaction seemed out of character — and yet… she couldn’t feel the beast and would he be able to stand on hallowed ground blessed by the High Diviner with the power to repel dark forces?

“Do you have the strength and skills to See into yourself?” Nessa asks eventually. “I think you are the only one of us who can answer that. I know from serving with that he does not control your actions. If you fear he may sleep within you his hold will only grow. If he does not, your doubts may diminish and you will let the moon and stars shine out of your pure and beautiful eyes again, dispelling the storm clouds.”

The librarian slowly shakes her head. “I do not feel His influence nor his presence within me. I pray to the Cosmos and all the stars She holds within her. The light from them is within me, not Desathrax’s. Not his. As I said, I told Him I do not wish to be his…” A flash of guilt darts across her face. Orianna shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “But he said he knew me from the time I reached out to the necrotic flames in the Temple.” She thinks for a moment. “Perhaps your protections wouldn’t be misplaced after all, Nessa. Are you able to perform a ritual to ensure I am not possessed?”

“There is a ritual that will dispel most forms of possession and I would happily perform it for you,” Nessa leans forward and takes Orianna’s hand.

The moment she takes the tiefling’s hand Nessa feels the emotions roiling just beneath the surface.

“I place myself in your hands, Angel of the Moon,” Orinna says in Celestial.

Nessa shivers at the beauty of the language of the heavens and tears well up in her eyes. “I will do all I can sister,” she replies in the same tongue, then in the common tongue. “But you might get a bit wet.”

She pulls a vial of holy water from her backpack and chants a few words in soft voice as she draws the crescent moon with damp fingertips on Orianna’s brow, eyes, ears, lips and heart. “Her mind, her vision, her hearing, her words and her soul belong only to her,” she whispers. “If any try to control them, leave now. By the power of the goddess I, despite my unworthiness, command you. The grace of the goddess casts you out.”

She pauses, her hand resting on Orianna’s heart. She can feel no evil there.

“I am as sure as I can be that you are, and were, free of possession,” she says at last. “You have a mighty spirit Orianna. The only power I could feel was yours and it was strong indeed. A blessing and a curse. I can see that your light shines so brightly the dark is drawn to it. But when he predicts your fate, have no fear. Nothing is decided. That much I know. I and this temple are behind you, as are many others I am sure. But most of all, if I were a gambler — which so far I don’t think I am — I would put my money on you.”

That elicits a relieved laugh from the young tiefling. “It is still early before wagers need to be placed, but… I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless, Nessa.”

Her smile turns sheepish as she licks her lips, tasting the pure, sweet water. “And I must apologise if how I spoke to you earlier was too harsh or insulting. I do not think you foolish for questioning. On the contrary, I question often and a lot — it is part of the nature of those who wish to learn and know. It only came out as it did because of the unexpectedness of where your thoughts went: possession. I should have thought of it myself, but I did not.” Her shoulders lift in a small shrug even as her hands clasp together. “I have much still to learn, least of all in the ways and means of people different from me.”

She stands up, taking Nessa’s hand, holding it gently as she feels her skin, where the lines begin and end, where its smoother surface gives way to calluses from holding more than a sponge and pail. A small, thoughtful smile dances across her lips so that when she looks up the cleric sees the crystalline dragon scales across her chest shimmering with a similar light in her eyes.

“Tomorrow, I go to the Sunset Spine, to the cave of an ancient crystal dragon. I would like for you to come with me… but I wonder if you will be busy elsewhere,” Orianna says, tilting her head slightly. “If that be the case, when I return, I will find you to let you know what happened. Until then… May your feet ever walk in the light of the stars, Nessa al-Kiram,” she finishes in celestial.

“And may the moonlight guide your steps to a new dawn,” Nessa smiles. “Be careful out there.”