All This and Heaven Too – Velania – 22/11/2022

Continues after Never Let Me Go (Velania and Zola)

Includes a write-up of Brilliant Disguise – 27/07/2022 (Zola, Sorrel)

Beautiful artwork, DMing and tears, all thanks to the incredible Lykksie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎

[Content Note: grief, heartbreak, bereavement, religious fervour]

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Growin’ Up

1479. Turmish, Interior Faerûn.

The midday sun reflected bright on the pale soil, as I crested the hill overlooking our farm. I told myself not to blink, else I’d have missed the beauty of the light upon this earth.

Ahead of me, Mama looked up from her careful inspection of the vines. The grapes were heavy and ripe and dark, and in a tenday, we’d be picking the first press of the year. She pushed her dazzling white hair back off her shoulders and grinned at me, though she cast her watchful gaze up behind me at the empty hillside. “And where have you been all morning?”

“I saw him, Mama! I saw him again! On the other side of the hill, down by the willows. He helped me do this. Look…” I held up a stick and tapped the end, filling it with a bright, golden-silvery glow, and I proudly waved it around like I was the wizard who had visited at the summer fete. “I told him all about the village coming together to help with the first press and he laughed and said it sounded wonderful. Do you think he’ll be here for the grape treading, Mama?”

She leaned on her spade and trod it down under a clump of thistle, which she pulled up and shook out, then tossed into her wicker basket. “He has many duties, Vee.”

“But he’s an angel. He’s so powerful! He told me he can travel to wherever he wants, just by blinking. So he can come and see me whenever. He can be in a hundred places at once.”

“Maybe, then. But many of those places are very, very far away.”

I read something new in her but I did not understand what. “But wouldn’t he want to visit, Mama?”

She froze and her face creased with surprise and concern. Then she set the spade aside. She brushed her hands on her tunic and turned to face me. She knelt in the soil and took my hands and gazed at me with solemn, serene eyes. “Vee, I’m going to tell you something.”

I frowned, curious at her sudden change of tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a tradition in our family. For people who share our blood. People like you and me. When you’re a little older, this will make more sense to you. But you’ll have a choice to make. Build a life with the things of the earth, like I did, like my mother did. Or build your connection to the heavens. To him, to all the angels, to the Maiden.” She squeezed my hands gently. “I just want you to know: neither is a bad choice. There is as much joy down below as there is up above. It is only important you make the right choice for you.”

I pursed my lips in thought. They said in the village that Mama was so wise, she could read your heart and tell you things about yourself that you didn’t even know. But I understood that when she spoke like this, it always meant she wasn’t telling me something, and I would have to work out the hidden meaning for myself. This was a hard one, though. “Do you mean going to the monastery? Where they have the pretty gardens and the statue of Selûne and the scrying pool, and they teach you songs and magic? It’s nice there.”

Her face softened at my answer. “Maybe. It is nice, isn’t it? But you might find yourself on any number of other paths.”

“How did you know what to choose, Mama?”

She smiled wistfully and her gaze drifted far down the hill, down to our little cottage. I could see Papa through the window, chopping vegetables on the counter. A whisper of the heart called to him and he looked up. He spotted us up on the hill and broke into a grin and waved.

“I just knew,” Mama said. She looked back to me, a dreamlike glow in her eyes. “And you will too.”

I pressed my makeshift wand into the ground until the light was buried by the soil. “So he doesn’t come to see you anymore?” I said, puzzled.

She pressed her lips into a smile. “I made my choice, Vee. And a good one it was. Without it, I wouldn’t have met Papa. And” – she pinched my cheek affectionately – “I wouldn’t have had you.”

I looked at her evenly and I studied what lay beyond those kind, beautiful eyes, brighter green than mine. “You mean you chose not to see him? But why?”

Her face became very still. Her features unreadable. She murmured into the air, almost to herself: “The heart is hard to translate. It has a language of its own.”

“I don’t understand, Mama. He’s an angel. A very important one, and a very good one – I asked. He was telling me about this other angel, one who got banished a long, long time ago for doing a bargain with a fiend from hell, who left heaven and never came back. That’s so very sad, isn’t it? But it shows some of the angels are bad ones… but not him. He’s one of the good ones. And nobody else in the village sees any angels, good or bad. Nobody else gets to speak in the ancient language. Or the stories! So if he’s good and he chose me, then he’s looking out for me. And wouldn’t I want to look out for him too?”

“But he’s an angel. He doesn’t need–”

“Everyone needs someone to look out for them, Mama.” I folded my arms and grounded my heels firmly.

“Oh, Vee!” She seized my shoulders in a sudden passion and pressed a hard kiss on my forehead, then wrapped me in a powerful hug.

She held me tight and exhaled heavily, murmuring into my hair. “When you’re old enough, maybe you’ll look out for everyone. And I hope they’ll love you for it. If that’s what makes you happy, I know you’ll make it a blessing for them too. But only if you truly, truly want that…”

She leaned back to look at me intensely, and her eyes were glimmering. “Whatever you do, your Papa and I will love you.” Her voice came out in a hoarse, trembling whisper. “We will always love you, darling.”

I was very confused and I frowned with concern. “I don’t get it, Mama. Why are you crying?”

She caressed my cheek and blinked rapidly. “I’m crying because I love you. Fiercely, and forever. And I would never change a thing. That’s all.”

“I love you too, Mama.” I hugged her back. She was warm and gentle and strong and beautiful. I didn’t understand everything she was telling me, but that was alright. Because I knew she was kind. “Can I go and read my book now?”

“Yes, of course, darling.”

“Good. I’m going to learn another story. So I can tell it to him when he comes for the grape treading.”

I ran through the vines and down the hill and back to the cottage. I barrelled through the door and past Papa, and asked when dinner would be, and then I grabbed my book and took it outside and crossed the lane. I followed the creek and got wet feet and found the shady log bench at the end of our neighbours’ meadow and sat there in the cool breeze and read stories all day and practised making light in my hand and I pretended it was a little spirit friend who needed my help and I rehearsed the voices I would use and the questions I would ask him and forgot about eating until I got tired and fell asleep.




Brilliant Disguise

1499. Angelbark Forest, Kantas.

Twenty years later, I was pulled from the wreckage of my silent reverie. My childhood had become a dormant part of my life. A part that made sense. That had no lingering doubt. That no longer haunted me or whispered its unease into my heart.

Until I was wrongfooted by one simple question.

“Velania. Where’s your guardian angel?”

It was the height of a beautiful summer. The summer I spent in mourning. I was sitting on a log in the Angelbark Forest, with Je’Sathriel beside me. The night sky a soft shroud of lavender and indigo. On the other side of the campfire, Zola sat talking animatedly with Sorrel, An’Ahkrim and Felix. We were steadily coming to terms with a new normal, after An’Ahkrim’s recent, tenuous step toward salvation. Zola strove to process the pain of Ophanim and Phlegethos – yet by some intangible, mysterious chime of the soul, meeting An’Ahkrim again seemed to be good for her. Felix was strumming ambient music, keeping track of all of this with wry amusement.

Only a month had passed since the battle at Fort Ettin and I was still reeling from Coll’s departure. I missed him every day and I missed Silvia, and I was watching over Sorrel, because the hardness in her eyes while she navigated through light conversation was breaking my heart. I could tell that Je’Sathriel felt it too. Then An’Ahkrim’s glinting, purple eyes met mine for a moment and I hurriedly turned away to study the fire.

For a moment it all hit me in a rush. I felt so fragile and it hurt so much I was overwhelmed. I sat trembling, trying to hold my breath, fighting not to scream out loud in grief, staring into the flames with a heavy ache crushing my chest.

Then Je’Sathriel’s quiet question scattered anything I was trying to gather into my arms. “Where’s your guardian angel?”

I don’t know how I pulled myself together. I turned to reply to him. “Busy?” My faith drained from the word even as it left my lips.

His iron stare told me everything. “When did you last see him?”

“About two years ago… that’s about normal, right?”

His iron stare told me everything. “You know I already know these answers. I just wanted to hear what you’re telling yourself.”

So now it was obvious I had been lying to myself. A cold shame crept up my neck and my face reddened.

“Do you even know his name?”

“I… he… he likes to be whimsical. You don’t call senior family members by their names where I come from… do you?”

His iron stare told me everything.

Je’Sathriel tilted his head. I felt like I was eight years old again. “Nah, he’s a dick. His name is Sachraël. And he’s letting you down, Velania. What he’s doing to you – it’s not right.”

“I… didn’t know that.”

“It’s not on you to know. It’s on him. So… I can have a word. Make him step up. Or I can sack him. Get you a new one. But it’s your protector – it’s up to you to decide.”

A wave of shame crashed into me and the blood rang in my ears. I was ignorant. Foolish. How was a sheltered farmgirl supposed to learn that Aasimar were meant to have a closer bond with the heavens? I grew up around only one of our kind: Mama, who had vigorously avoided the subject. She had never reconciled with what it meant to carry our blood. And my family reunions weren’t something I might casually bring up with Aurelia, Seraphina, Nessa, Oziah.

I started unpacking what Mama had told me – through what she had not told me. She would look away whenever I asked about him. She would sigh with a nostalgia I now knew to be heartbreak. She would force the pain of rejection out of her eyes and wrestle a way to the gratitude in her heart instead. Gratitude for the choice she had made. So she claimed.

She got good at it. Finding her gratitude. Channelling it into caring for others. And the more I thought about it, the more I saw it: something had broken inside her long ago. The wound had never healed.

A lump formed in my throat. Oh, Mama. Sachraël hurt you too.

My heart beat faster. Anger suddenly flushed in my chest. For her. And her mother. And who knows how many others before them. Old memories – happy memories – became tainted with shame and rejection. How much of my childhood was going to be torn away from me? I knotted my fists in pain and grief.

Je’Sathriel watched me knowingly.

He drained his beer and swiped up another bottle. “You can’t let this go on, Velania. I can just slap some sense into him if you ask me to. Or,” he added jovially, “if you think for one minute you’re going to hide away from this, I can always slap you instead.”

I laughed ironically. “I’ve already been beaten up by you once before. I’m not sure I’m up for a second round.”

“Worked though, didn’t it?” Je’Sathriel grinned at me savagely, but still with kindness. “So tell me what you want to do. I’ll make it happen.”

“Can I… can I at least talk to him?”

“You don’t sound very certain.”

“Je’Sathriel, I want to talk to him.”

“Better. I warn you, Velania, it may not give you the resolution you seek.”

“He’s still family. I owe him that much.”

“Velania…” He leaned in close, shoulder to shoulder, and his voice was full of gruff tenderness. “You don’t owe him a fucking thing. You don’t owe anyone. But tell me when you’re ready and I’ll take you to him.”

The first time I met Je’Sathriel, he hurt me. He hurt me and I’d felt such a blistering fury toward him. The next time I met him, I’d been tired, hollow, and spent, and he responded with the loneliest words I’d ever heard: “All you can do is keep on doing the work.”

Now, he was hurting me again. But it was cast in a different light. Whenever I recalled those words, and whenever he spoke my name, it struck a chord of power in my chest. I felt a warm sense of trust around him.

I studied the others around the flickering campfire. Je’Sathriel had pulled Sorrel back from the brink of despair – her body language told me how grateful she was, even though she was still hollow with grief. He had given An’Ahkrim a shot at redemption – and although the Herald still wrestled with bitter resentment, there was a begrudging respect. Zola had even called the archangel “Dad” now, to his utter embarrassment. Which made me want to hug her even harder.

I had walked alone for years among the pillars of the universe. I had crossed Faerûn and the seas of the world. In search of a connection. Searching, searching for the Maiden’s call. But now I looked around, and saw angels in the architecture, spinning in infinity.

A voice spoke to me from within. You’re going to stand up for yourself, Velania. You have to fix this. No matter how much it hurts.




All This and Heaven Too

Summer and autumn passed me by. I took life slowly. One step at a time. Until the quiet release of healing unfurled within me. Sometimes I felt a lingering, childish hope that Sachraël might surprise me with a visit during that time. But I called myself out for being so naïve.

Then, one morning, I woke with a leaden sense of certainty in my stomach. Ready or not, there would be no putting this off any more. I had to seek him out.

It was time.

Returning to Fort Ettin felt strange. Coll wasn’t there anymore. Jenna was resilient, managing the tabards as deftly as ever, the invasion repairs all but complete. But it just seemed empty without him. I didn’t feel ready to write over my version of Fort Ettin with what it was like now.

So I was relieved when Je’Sathriel set a meeting point some twenty minutes north of the fort. It gave me some space.

I spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready. I settled on an outfit of my finest, most radiant vestments, a softly shifting moonlight and white, as if we were attending high evensong on a feast day at the temple.

I sat on a tree stump to await the others. I nervously knitted my fingers together, pulling a mote of moonlight out between them and expelling it. Waiting for kind, expectant faces. People I could trust.

Even walking alongside one another, Sorrel and Silvia seemed almost intertwined. They were blissfully bickering away, still full of joy to be reunited again. Since her return, Silvia was glowing with a new-found certainty – like she was on the verge of a breakthrough with her holy journey. I felt such pride and awe for her, as well as glad for how grounding she was for my irreverent but wary and haunted sister in faith. Paradoxically, Sorrel was the cautious one, forever scolding Silvia for her recklessness, even while it was Silvia who chided Sorrel daily about her unselfconscious bawdy humor. They were so good for each other. It was all I could do not to throw my arms around them whenever I saw them.

Kavel was also remarkably transformed. Not just a new platinum tattoo across his broad, chiselled shoulders. Not just the handsome salt-and-pepper beard, which suited him perfectly. It was the absent-minded, Goliath-sized grin as he stared off into space. It was obvious what distracted him. He was utterly smitten and giddy with love. I smiled at that: for sure I was going to interrogate him later.

Pipper looked just as happy. It was a delight to see what joyfulness opening her shop had brought out of her – the Lizardfolk mechanic was effervescing with ideas and inventing on the fly. I’d seen her being refreshingly indifferent to the threat of the Heralds before, even to Je’Sathriel’s commanding presence. But she was fiercely loyal to her friends. She brought a mechanical version of her along – Pipette, who carried around a tray of cupcakes for us.

It was still a shock to see Zola’s stillness – not the recent facial injury she kept hidden behind a silver half-mask, not the ice-cool moonstone gem in her eye socket, but the cold calm that had crept up her spine and numbed her heart. There was a steady sense of purpose in her that saddened me. The Drow warrior wore shining silver armor and her eldercross – the crystal crown growing from her brow – had turned from blue to purple. It felt harder to reach her, these days. But I would keep trying. For her.


I sensed it in my heart before I heard it. I heard it before I saw it. And as I saw it, time froze around me.

A missile of blazing light blasted from the sky into the ground nearby. Je’Sathriel landed with a silent shockwave upon the ground. Instinctively, I recoiled from the force of it, though strangely, it did not buffet me. The power diffused into a whisper of energy.

I straightened up and glanced at the others. Each of them was stopped in time, mid-recoil. Je’Sathriel stood before me, his powerful gaze reading me carefully.

“How have you been, Velania?”

“Better, thank you. A restful summer has done me the world of good.”

“Heard from An’Ahkrim?”

I flinched. My panicked midnight flight through the Angelbark played out in my mind. The messages I was sending him. How he was gradually finding his way. I pictured the fireflies dancing in the edges of my vision. The glitter of An’Ahkrim’s gaze. The curl of his cautious, wounded grin.

Why tell him? flashed into my heart.

Then I remembered Je’Sathriel’s own words: You know I already know these answers.

Of course he did. His vision was sharper even than Mama’s.

… and what would you even need to hide, Velania?

I frowned at myself and blinked. “I… contact him a… bit. He’s been struggling. He needs support.”

“Be careful, Velania.”

I felt my face heating up. “What do you mean?”

His gaze intensified, and I felt it resonating in my core. “I’m not worried about what he can do to you. I know you can look after yourself. Physically, that is. Just be careful about giving too much of yourself. You don’t need to give your soul to carry him.”

I pursed my lips. Why was I feeling such a surge of indignance and denial?

Je’Sathriel observed me with fathomless wisdom. There was a depth to what he read in me that, from his expression, I could not begin to gauge. The surface layer was a trusting but stern look of: That’s for you to figure out.

I nodded, but my head was in a thousand places, buzzing incessantly like fireflies. “I… still remember who he was. He has… a long way to go yet. I’ll be careful…” The words fell out automatically. I wasn’t even sure what I was saying, as I pondered on how his cabin was decorated, what he might have planted…

Je’Sathriel studied me a moment more.

And with that, time unfroze. Zola was descending from an emotional hug. Silvia was embarrassedly remonstrating with Sorrel about something I had not heard. Kavel was mid-conversation – a ribald one, judging by the gesture he was making. Pipper was scowling indignantly at thin air, her hand raised as if scolding someone.

I couldn’t even imagine what had just passed between each of them and Je’Sathriel. He stood in our midst as if everything and nothing had taken place.

“Right,” he declared. “Time to find an angel. Lower ranking than me. He’s hiding in a demiplane somewhere between here and the celestial plane. He’s been there a while. I have his co-ordinates.”

“Why would he be hiding?” Zola asked.

Je’Sathriel directed the question to me with a glance.

I shrugged heavily and cleared my throat. A question I’d punished myself with too many times. “All I do know is that I last saw him two years ago, before I sailed to the Dawnlands. He used to visit regularly, when I was a child. But by the time I became a teenager, I think he started finding me… boring. And that’s all I have…” All my years of trying to suppress this wound. Even saying it out loud felt shameful.

Regrets collect like old friends, and as I looked down, I realised I was still unconsciously summoning a mote of moonlight within a clenched fist. My stomach was in knots. Shake it out, I scolded myself. I made my hands relax.

Je’Sathriel’s stare said nothing. “I am sending you there, but I am not coming.”

“I knew it,” Sorrel muttered.

“The fuck you starting now, Darkfire?” Je’Sathriel glared at her with one eyebrow raised.

It cascaded into a group argument. I smiled fondly. He was the one who had set this tone for our meetings. Whenever my sisters made sport of him, it meant they were in good spirits. I needed that today. More than I could say. My heart flooded with gratitude for all of them, and even for Je’Sathriel’s exasperation at the way we all looked up to him. Always fighting hard to show no emotions toward us.

There are some battles even an archangel cannot win.

Eventually, Je’Sathriel silenced the backchat: “Selûne told me not to interfere. Velania has to do this alone.”

I shivered involuntarily. Selûne told him? He meant that figuratively, of course. But my heart skipped at the depth to his suggestion.

We joined hands and Je’Sathriel spoke an ancient word of power. The air filled with a soft fuzz of static. He glowed with a brilliance that eclipsed any I had ever seen created. It enveloped us and bathed us in its warmth and as the energy swelled, it atomised the world around us.


We stood on a blue-tiled floor, stretching in all directions into the fog. Motes of golden moonlight lit the space gently. Soft music undulated from everywhere and nowhere. A harp? A viol? A choir? Its nature was undefinable.

With every step we took, my breath became shallow. My chest tightened.

The fog parted to reveal a beautiful, open-air lounge. Plush carpets, stacks of rare tomes, a pile of sparkling gems, coins, trinkets, a side table with exquisite fruit and wine.

And there he was. Tall. Majestic. A statuesque figure. I had his golden skin, his silver-white hair, but he shone so radiant and magnificent.

Draped across a luxurious chaise longue, Sachraël was buried in a book. Powerful, resplendent, languid… and utterly oblivious.

We stopped. My heart lurched. I cleared my throat. “H-hello, Sachraël.”

His head snapped up in shock. His gaze slid away from me as he took in the six of us. His jaw dropped. His eyes returned to me.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. He hurriedly gestured in the air.

The mist billowed in. It enveloped us. Sachraël and his lounge faded.




The Story

A circle of five plinths surrounded us. On each sat an object. A moon-like crystal ball, a large, glittering sapphire, a necklace of prayer beads, a turquoise flower with fey aspects, a greatsword embedded in its plinth.

An invisible force held us within the circle. The mist curled beyond it, filled with twinkling particles of gold. The air hummed with a building tension.

His wide-eyed astonishment still haunted my vision. In confusion, I closed my eyes and sent a message to him. “I’m sorry… I should have said I was coming… Where have you been? Where are you now?”

Eventually, there came a flustered gasp. “The fuck does it matter? Just… go away!”

I reeled in shock. My head span with unprocessed panic and hurt and anger. I drew a trembling breath. I dug out the worst possible reading: maybe he doesn’t love me. I just took a trip on my love for him.

I had to know. But he was delaying us. Buying time. We had to get out of this prison. And fast.

Like the others, I turned my attention to the plinths. Did these objects represent Sachraël? Or me? Or each of us? I did not recognise them specifically, yet there was something familiar about them. I wracked my brain.

Sorrel peered at the prayer beads. Curious, yet reluctant to touch them. “They seem Selûne themed…?” she mused.

Silvia sat down to ponder. “I think these weren’t planned for us. I think they’re related to each other… not to us.”

“Look,” Pipper said. She pointed out a series of tiny glyphs, barely visible. “Each plinth is connected, like in a circuit.”

Zola closed her eyes in concentration. “This place, it feels… it’s like it’s ‘pretending’ to be consecrated ground…”

We puzzled over our findings.

Kavel shrugged.

He stepped over to the greatsword.

Hand outstretched, he poised over the hilt. “Everyone ok if I touch this?”

We looked up. We nodded. He grasped the sword and pulled.

A surge of golden light spread from the plinth, along the glyph lines, through each of us, connecting to all five objects. Radiant sound and presence and energy and emotion infused us and blasted its way through our bodies. It dissipated, pulling our minds away with it.

We shook our heads in stunned silence. It wasn’t painful, but it was shocking and unnerving. I tasted ozone. My ears rang.

The sword hadn’t budged.

Kavel, Pipper and Silvia stared blankly at the rest of us, as if they had forgotten why we were here. After a moment of blinking, they seemed to clear their fog.

We shared a look of apprehension.

My heart was racing. I felt a failure. I lowered my eyes in guilt. I had brought them here. We were defenceless against this effect. Defenceless as children. At Sachraël’s mercy as much as that young, barefoot farmgirl, watching the sun rising, setting, with an ache of sadness in her chest. Hoping, hoping he might appear…

A thought struck me.

Clearly, touching the sword was wrong. Drawn by my heart alone, I stepped over to the prayer beads. “Well, I’m going to try this,” I told the others, waiting for their assent.

I set my hand upon the necklace. There was no surge of power.

I had touched the right item.

I gasped. That was it! Childhood memories. A folk tale from Turmish… no, a folk tale of the Maiden herself. A children’s book. Fables. Parables of Selûne. Telling stories to Sachraël, to Mama, to Papa, to every visitor who had stopped by our little cottage with the patience to indulge an excitable young child’s chatter.

“It’s a story!” I blurted to the others. “They represent stages of a pilgrim’s journey. Faith, the moon, beauty, wealth, strength. But, like many folk tales, there are countless versions, with different symbols in a different order. Whatever order Sachraël has chosen, we must tell the same story.”

I’d even recited a version of this to Sachraël, I was sure of it. On one of his visits, all those years ago. The details were clouded now. But he had laughed and clapped in delight, even when I got some parts wrong.

A cold shadow loomed over that time now. What had truly lain behind that flawless, sparkling smile?

If we didn’t get out of here soon, he’d be gone before I found out.

“Now try the sword, Kavel?” I suggested.

He did. But it was still wrong. The golden energy pulsed through the glyphs, filled us with its presence, and tore at our sense of being.

The radiance faded. We blinked. Dizzy. Shaking the fuzz from our heads.

The gold-flecked fog no longer seemed beautiful. It was heavy and ominous.

Dread and urgency welled up within us.

We each stood by a plinth, with Zola in the middle, keeping a holy aura over us to bolster our minds. By trial and error, we worked through combinations. Each time we touched the wrong object, a surge of light tore through us. Golden brilliance stripping us away.

Pipper scowled. She whipped out a notebook and scribbled frantic notes, lest even the meagre conclusions we’d reached be taken from us.

Confusion wove around Kavel. Parts of himself had dissolved and he didn’t know how to fight it. He looked at me and Zola with consternation. “Is this more Loviatar crap? Like the Pain With No Name?”

A lump formed in my throat. That ghastly entity. It had consumed the minds of countless people. Daring Heights was still recovering.

“No,” Zola said firmly. “That thing is dead and gone.”

With a quavering voice, I added, “And we’ll get through this, Kavel. I promise.”

Kavel’s face lit up as I spoke his name, as if he had only just recognised it.

From there, it cascaded into a frenzied race. A race against time and our own sanity. I touched the necklace. Pipper the sapphire. It worked. Now we had the second item. Silvia touched the crystal ball third.

Wrong.

The glyphs flared. Blinding light surged through us, tearing at fragments of my will, my feelings, my very self.

My chest ached. My hands shook with adrenaline. I struggled against the radiance leeching me away.

It was getting harder to resist.

Zola and Silvia stared vacantly, as if seeing this place for the first time. I caught Zola’s eye – she recognised me and came to, thank goodness.

But Pipper and Kavel stood moon-eyed at the golden fog, frowning at the rest of us like we were strangers. At least when Pipper noticed the notebook in her hand, she connected some dots and went along with our encouragements.

Zola, steadfast in the middle. I beside the necklace. Pipper on the sapphire. Sorrel on the flower. We had those three correct now. With each attempt, we called out to each other, shouting in urgency to prompt each other to action.

It was down to the sword and the crystal ball.

But Kavel, standing next to the sword, frowned with suspicion at us. If we got it wrong anymore, how much of him would we lose? Or the rest of us?

I had come to the necklace through faith – I would let faith guide me now. Always believe in your soul, Velania. I called out to the others: “This story ends with the moon! It has to!”

Kavel blinked cautiously at the rest of us. Uncertain of a lot of things. Puzzled by my voice.

I looked at him in desperation. “Kavel. You’re Kavel. You just need to…” I gestured at the plinth beside him encouragingly.

He studied me without a hint of recognition.

“Uh, friend…? Don’t forget your sword,” I suggested. I nodded at the plinth.

He looked at me blankly. Turned to the plinth. Saw the sword. Shrugged. Nodded. Grasped the hilt.

It worked.

The moon was last. The crystal ball. Silvia immediately placed a hand on it. We held our breath in suspense.

An angel’s sigh blew through the circle. The golden mist beyond the plinths burst into glittering, scintillating light. Soft as a moonbeam’s whisper, it billowed in and enclosed us once more.

Faith. Wealth. Beauty. Strength. Moon. We finished the story.




What Kind of Man

We gasped with relief in the open-air lounge once more. Sachraël was scrabbling at a side table, clutching books and trinkets, desperately stuffing armfuls of scrolls into a bag. He flinched with exasperation when he heard us arriving.

I stood paralyzed while people sprang into action. My face aflame. My stomach in knots.

“Don’t you go anywhere!” Zola stormed towards him. Hands twitching to draw her twin blades. “What did you DO to him? Undo it now!” she snarled, inclining her head back at Kavel. Her white-hot gaze was fixed on Sachraël alone.

In Kavel’s state of confusion, he did not see Zola anxiously defending him. He only saw a furious Drow warrior bellowing at a placid, golden man who emanated the splendour of the heavens. Kavel frowned at her and flexed his fists defensively.

Sorrel slipped up beside him and gently, deftly spoke. “Brother? It’s me, your sister. Sorrel. We swore ourselves to each other. We shared blood…” She showed a scar across her palm, and directed Kavel to his own hand, where he saw the same scar.

Her eyes were soft. Her voice was warm with love and warmth. “Your name is Kavel and I’m going to try something. Please bear with me, and if it doesn’t work, then in about twenty seconds you can do what you like to me. But… will you trust me on this?”

Kavel studied her warily.

Considered.

Consented.

Sorrel placed her hands in his and whispered a spell into the world. Threads of moonlight glowed at her fingertips and weaved their way up his arms to his temples.

Kavel’s head snapped up as his memories cascaded back. He shook his head in surprise.

Gratitude flooded into his eyes and he looked down at his beloved sister. He clenched her hands warmly.

Sachraël turned away from Zola and waved his hand dismissively. “He’s fine. See? Don’t worry about it. There’s no need.”

The angel was so tall. Magnificent. Towering over us in so many ways. Zola’s fury was focused purely on him, but he spoke with such authority, it gave her a moment of hesitation.

I watched in shock as he seized the moment and hiked his bag up. “Alright, well I’m going to leave now. Bye…”

“Oh, no no no.” I flung myself into action. I rushed up and planted my feet in front of him, my voice edged with panic. “You can’t just leave like that. We’ve come all this way to find you.” I clenched my fists to regain my poise. It wasn’t working. My heart was fluttering all over the place. But I scowled at him. “You’re not going anywhere until you at least talk to me.”

His radiance faded. He exhaled and looked down at me. He shook his head sadly, his voice grey with reluctance. “It’ll only cause you pain, Velania…”

“Oh… I’m certain it will, Sachraël,” I retorted, fighting to keep my voice steady. “But we are still going to have it anyway. Right here, right now, no matter what it’s like for me.” I jabbed my finger at the ground and tried not to tremble.

Taken aback at my determination, he sighed and lowered his bag to the blue-tiled floor.


Zola allowed herself to relax slightly. But her hands were still by her sword hilts. Her eye beaming fury at him. Sachraël watched the others fan out behind me. He brought his eyes to meet mine. Waited. Like he was following my lead. Not leading the way.

That realisation shook the ground away from my feet. I braced myself with a breath. My throat was dry. My skin numb and icy.

“Sachraël, where have you been all this time? You stopped visiting me. Did I… did I do something wrong?”

“It wasn’t you, Velania. It’s just… they keep dying. I can’t stop them from…” His gaze fell uncomfortably away from me. “I can’t do it anymore, Velania. Loving people, only for them to keep dying. I can’t face missing people for an eternity. That’s too much…”

“I don’t understand. That’s… what do you mean, ‘an eternity’?”

“I could explain so far, but…” He shook his head sadly. “It’s different when you’re immortal. You mortals don’t know what it’s like: to love, to be devoted to someone, to give your heart to them… only to outlive them. Generation upon generation, century upon century. And I’ve lost so many…” He exhaled heavily, and grief filled his eyes. “Someday, you will be granted release from your pain. But every person I’ve lost will weigh on me forever. Knowing I’ll never have them back – it builds up, Velania… it doesn’t ever let up. You cannot escape it. It gets harder every time.”

“You never told me this,” I said numbly, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I thought… I thought I’d let you down somehow.”

His eyebrows furrowed with discomfort. “Not at all, Velania. But I did have to let go. And I saw you were loved; you were happy. I didn’t want to spoil that for you, but I’d never be able to face seeing you age and die.”

My breath shuddered sharply. “But I spent my childhood doting on you! Waiting for your visits. Dreaming of them. And every waking moment – talking about you non-stop!”

I saw our little farmhouse again. Flashes of Mama and Papa. Their fond, wary smiles as I eagerly poured out detail upon detail for them, a young girl in raptures after every visit from her angel. All along, they’d always dreaded some awful moment like this. They’d wished to shield me from it. But they had been powerless to stop it.

Those memories stung hard. I longed to see my parents so fiercely in that moment. To hold them tight. My eyes welled up.

I blinked hard. I felt very small. Trivial. I trembled as I tried to compose myself.

“Sachraël, we all lose people. Yes, it hurts. But it’s unavoidable…”

“That’s why I had to step back when I could. And let go.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

He stared at me helplessly.

A blaze of indignance slammed into my chest. “So you decided to come down to Toril, have your fun, and then just slip away, to abandon people? And leave everyone else behind to pick up the pieces?”

He frowned into the distance, gazing across a vast chasm of time and age. His great voice was power. Authority. Yet brimming with defiance. “The woman I fell in love with – your great-great-grandmother many times over – I was there for her. Always. We were blissfully happy. She lived a good life. And then she got old, and sick, and eventually I had to go through the wrench of saying goodbye to her. And then I watched our daughter – my daughter – grow old and die in front of me. And my daughter’s daughter. And it got harder and harder each time. Watching them live, and age, and die. You’re still young, so you have so much less idea–”

“No, you’re wrong about that. And if you’d been there, you’d know,” I said. I squeezed my hands so tight that my arms shook. “I do know what it’s like to lose people you love.” My gaze darted to Silvia standing close to her Sorrel. I had visited the Daring Heights graveyard with Lord Jaezred only a few days ago, to remember so many loved ones. I heard Faust’s violin trill joyfully for a moment. I gasped reflexively. “Believe me, I know. But the last thing I’d ever do is leave them behind, just to make myself more comfortable.”

For a moment, the indistinct celestial music even sounded like Coll’s merry chuckle echoing through the fog. The sound punched me in the heart. I gasped and rocked on my feet and leaned forwards, hugging myself tight.

He pursed his lips softly at my vehemence. “Then you’ll already understand a fraction of what I feel. And I’m sorry for that, Velania.”

My face grew hot. “What kind of person would it make me,” I retorted, “thinking that having fewer people in my life would somehow make it richer?” I straightened up to glare at him.

Sachraël drifted into a sad, distant smile. “They did make my life richer. All of them. I was happy for many years. But I still couldn’t stop them dying. They’re all gone now. Generation upon generation… it’s just –”

“But that’s your responsibility!” I exploded. “You created life, Sachraël! You put it here on Toril. You can’t just make that happen and then wash your hands of it. Don’t you have a duty to love and protect your family?” I looked up into his eyes pleadingly. “Me, Mama, Nana, we’re still your children.”

“I’m sorry, Velania, I truly am. But it’s best that you all forget me. Try.”

He shifted his weight to the side subconsciously, as if wishing to step away from me. It sent icy dread through my chest. My heart hammered in panic.

“I… can’t do that!” I shook my head frantically. Stepping up in front of him. “If you know anything about me, you know that’s not going to happen. I don’t abandon people…”

“That’s never going to do you any good, Velania.”

“That’s not true! Don’t say that. I’m done with losing people. And I won’t even abandon you.”

I let out a sob and then I couldn’t stop the tears forming. A cold cloak of desolation folded over my shoulders.

“I don’t give up on others,” I continued hoarsely. “Even if they keep me at arm’s length, even if they lose their way, if they give up on me, I…” my words failed me, as the blood pounded in my ears.

His eyes flooded with sadness for me. But they shone with an aura of resolve. The determination only an angel can show. “Velania,” he intoned gently. “Please: let go. Let me go.”

“No,” I rasped. He’d inspired a fire of devotion that lasted for twenty years. But though it was fading, I was raw and naked without it. A holy fool asking myself: what kind of man loves like this?

I’d been pushed to the precipice, my heels over the edge of the void. I shook my head weakly. “I’ve come all this way. I brought my friends with me to meet you. People I’ll never abandon…”

I glanced at the worried faces behind me. Pipper, so sweet yet so implacable, and the smartest inventor and designer in the Dawnlands. Kavel, who threw the hardest left jab, yet was also the kindest and gentlest man I’d ever met. Sorrel and Silvia, brave to the point of recklessness, for whom everything coming out of their mouths was an argument about a sexual innuendo. And Zola, who was still twitching to smite Sachraël on my behalf if I so much as shrugged at her, who insisted she was coping with everything at the moment. She most certainly was not. But that didn’t matter right now, because I loved her and I was looking out for her all the same, and between us we’d figure it out.

They were all my friends… No, they were my family. Like Sachraël, but so much more. And I’d brought them to meet him because I loved them all.

I drew in a frayed breath and turned back to Sachraël. There was a sorrow in his eyes, like an angel made of tin, not of gold. He had lost the brilliant moonlit lustre of old, and his face was shadowed by shame and regret – and resignation.

My anger boiled over and my voice was searing and pointed. “I could show you now, Sachraël. What you want to miss out on. Maybe I’ll live a quiet life in Daring Heights. Maybe I’ll find a farm of my own. Maybe I’m going to fall in love again. Maybe I’m going to help my closest friends,” I gestured to the others “…and maybe we’ll save the world again. Or make a mess of it, I don’t know. And yes, we’re all going to die… but first, we’ll live. And we’ll do it together. It could be messy. It could be beautiful. It will probably be both. And you still have the power to be involved…”

“Velania!” he said, pushing back with a firmer tone. “It’s time to let go.”

He wanted so desperately for me to give in. I would not pretend, I would not put on a smile, I would not say I’m all right, when all I wanted was to be good. And to do everything in truth. I stood trembling in front of him. My limbs aching, my breath rasping. Hot tears spilled and I let them flow, and I didn’t know how to stop them.

“I just wish you could try.” I sobbed hard. My throat hurt. “That’s all any of us get. A chance to try, Sachraël. I can help you. Yes, living is hard work, loving is painful. It’s… so hard. It’s work every day, but… all you can do is keep on doing the work.”


A thunderous crack boomed, and its resonance shook through us, atom by atom. It split the mist, the sky, and all the fabric of the universe. Moonlight streamed through the fissure and flooded over us. We were bathed in the purest light – brighter, more intense than any I had ever seen – and hit with a surge of every sensation at once.

Sachraël gasped and instantly fell to his knees, his head lowered. The rest of us were too dumbstruck to move. My breath caught in my throat.

This was not merely magic. It was divinity.

The moonlight parted like a veil of pure grace and a tall figure glided onto the tiled floor. She was beautiful beyond measure; she captured all the myriad shades of moonlight, yet defied description. Her countenance mighty, compelling. As terrifying as it was reassuring.

She approached me. In front of me, around me, within me, overwhelming me. I stood stone-like before Selûne, suspended in my masquerade.

~ ~ I wanted to see. Forgive me. ~ ~

~ ~ When the teacher is inevitably taught by his pupil, the pupil becomes the master. ~ ~

~ ~ You have surpassed him. You do not need him anymore. ~ ~

“…he needs someone…” My voice sounded thin. Brittle. Coming from elsewhere.

~ ~ I did not put you down here to look after broken men. ~ ~

~ ~ If you’d like, I’ll send someone. You do not deserve to walk alone. ~ ~

“I… I accept whomever you deem me to be ready for. Gladly. But… please don’t take him from me. He needs healing, not punishment.”

I felt a ripple of… disappointment? Impatience? From the Maiden herself?

No: the moon is a mirror, after all. It must have been coming from me. My own dissatisfaction with my response. But her presence bombarded me so strongly, so powerfully, the border between her and me had grown fuzzy.

The Maiden’s gaze saw through me. She listened to my heart more than my words, and the majesty of her presence again buffeted me until my ears rang.

~ ~ I will take him for a while. You shall see him again. But only once he has healed. It is not for you to give your soul to carry him. ~ ~

I nodded in a daze. “Je’Sathriel told me as much earlier.”

The merest hint of a smile curled on her cheek. Its beauty dazzled me.

~ ~ I will send her. Keep on doing the work. ~ ~

My head swam.

She turned her gaze upon my friends, and thus gave her gratitude for them aiding one of her flock. Then her eyes fell on Sorrel. A look that acknowledged and accepted my sister, and bestowed boundless love on her.

Even in my bewildered state, my heart surged with devotion and pride.

Sorrel was hers too.


The sky sealed shut with a snap. The demiplane faded, the light transformed. I was floating alone in a vast place, through silver ether. One by one, all the stars appeared, as the great winds of the planets spiralled in.

No… not alone.

I recognized this place with tearful joy.

I had travelled through here on my way home from Phlegethos, after saving Rholor. After changing An’Ahkrim’s path. After standing with Sorrel. After Je’Sathriel’s return. The soft mists hugged me close, comforted me. I breathed easier than I had in months.

A whisper billowed through the silvery cosmos: “Sister.” Another joined it. And another. “Sister. Sister.” Endless voices greeted me. I felt the touch of comforting hands on my back, my shoulders, my temples, holding my hand.

This was my faith. My blood. My destiny. I was safe here. I drifted weightlessly, wishing it would last forever.

“We are so proud of you, sister.”

One hand on my shoulder had more presence. I recognised it without knowing why. I knew Sachraël ought to have been here too. But this was another angel, another entity. One I would meet soon.

She had come to me. I reached up to my shoulder and clenched the hand and held it tight. The presence was warm and gentle and strong and beautiful. Above all, I felt kindness. It flooded through me completely.

Mama, I wish you had been given this.

More than anyone.

You deserved this.

My tears floated off my cheeks, formed tiny glistening spheres, and drifted into the ether.


The haze cleared and the six of us were back in Sachraël’s lounge. Selûne and Sachraël had gone. It felt wrong here. Damaged. Disintegrating. The tiles creaked, as the ground failed beneath them. The firmament itself was no longer holding aloft. The motes of gold in the mist buzzed shrilly. Even the fog itself was coming apart, particle by particle.

Her face was still oscillating in my vision, embedded on my retinas. I stood in a daze, trying to make sense of the volume of love that had overwhelmed me. Selûne’s presence had flooded my senses so exquisitely, I still couldn’t separate past from present. Joy from grief… Pain from pleasure… Me from her…

“Velania?” A small voice floated distantly. “Velania?”

My body was numb. Or overwhelmed by sensation. I didn’t know.

“Velania.” Someone touched my arm. I gasped back to reality. “Sister. We need to get out of here.”

I wiped my eyes. “I’m here!” I said hurriedly. “I’m here.”

I saw a row of concerned faces looking at me, glancing around nervously. The music was a wail. The fog was weeping into puddles. Fragments of tile were rattling so hard they leapt into the air. This demiplane would soon collapse.

In a state of bewilderment, we joined hands. We stood in a circle: Sorrel, Silvia, Pipper, Kavel, Zola, me.

Mine was a small, exhausted substitute for Je’Sathriel’s teleportation magic, but it would still get us home. Focusing on Selûne’s quietest sidechapel in Daring Heights, I called forth Celestial words of power.

Holy moonlight lifted us up and swept us away.




A Language That I Never Knew Existed Before

I could have found myself wandering through Daring Heights all night in a daze, since I was so overwhelmed by joy and gratitude and melancholy and heartbreak. But Silvia insisted on cooking for us all. She brooked no dissent. And it was a very gentle, protective Zola who led me by the hand back to Silvia’s.

I had no appetite for a while, until the aromas of herbs and vegetables and fresh bread swam around me and reminded me I had a body.

As I ate, I came out of my shell a little. I told them all that yes, I felt heartbreak and loss, but something heavy had been lifted. Perhaps when I felt less raw, I’d be better placed to unpack that. For now, all I needed was to hear laughter and be hugged.

Pipper coyly presented me with a gift: a simple gold coin with “Pipper’s Coin” etched around the top, displaying an image of her face on both sides. Every so often, the figure gave a thumbs-up. “This means you’re family to me, Velania,” she said, giving a shy smile that made me melt with delight.

I avidly quizzed Kavel about Nathalie, his beautiful Sprite girlfriend. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to convey how much respect I had that he could shed the day’s trials and return to a state of pure excitement. He was over the moon about it and I revelled in his joy.

Sylvia confessed that she was extremely happy for me, yet trying to process the fact that I had received a divine breakthrough, while she was still searching for progress. With a wrenching heart, I understood. She had suffered so much and I couldn’t know what the gods had ordained for her. But in the corner of my soul I felt a warm tug of certainty: she was walking the holy path. Her moment would come. I only hoped to be lucky enough to witness it.

Zola stayed by my side the whole time. She remained locked into her own introspection, but close enough to hold my hand and give me the warmth of her presence. At a certain point, I held her gaze and gave her a careful nod, as if to say, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it right now, but I’ve seen whatever that is, just so you know.” I squeezed her hand firmly.

Sorrel always fell into silent contemplation in large groups, and tonight was no exception. I knew it was her place of comfort to observe, not to grandstand. But every few minutes I glanced at her and my mind was staggered by what had happened, and it threw me into an awed daze.

Our love had brought us both to meet our god today. Sorrel was not alone. And she never would be.

Despite the heartbreak I had experienced hours earlier, that day became one of the warmest moments of connection I’ve ever been graced with. The heart may talk in tongues and quiet sighs, in prayers and proclamations, in the grand deeds of great men and the smallest of gestures. All I know is that love filled the room, and it made its home with us.


At a point in the early evening when the sun dipped behind the Sunset Spines, I quietly stepped outside onto the porchway to watch the Maiden climb the sky. But I found myself gazing north, in the direction of the Angelbark Forest. I had messaged An’Ahkrim a few days before, and now I wondered how he would take to a house full of companionship like this. Would it be difficult for him? Overwhelming? Joyful?

There was still so much I didn’t know about his journey.

I heard someone calling me from the kitchen, so I stepped inside and closed the door.

Almost immediately, someone outside knocked upon the door. Odd, since I had just been on the street, and it had been deserted.

I opened it, and to my surprise, Je’Sathriel was outside. “May we come in?” he asked.

It was a bizarrely polite, understated entrance for him. I beckoned him inside, and he walked formally, almost stiff-backed, and stepped to the side of the room – as if standing to attention.

I looked at him curiously. He met my stare and directed my gaze to the door. “Velania, this is General Andromeda.”

Another shape filled the doorway. Powerful, radiant, beautiful. She moved with flawless grace and presence.

A stunned silence swept across the room. I tried not to let my jaw drop as she shot me a kind, curious half-grin.

“Velania,” she said with an air of nonchalant authority. “May we talk? We have plenty of work to attend to.”