So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth

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The days softened and blurred together into one long, semi-sleepless, emotionally charged time. Her fathers listened and comforted her when she told them what happened, Thaneni understanding most of all the helplessness and guilt that was Orianna’s initial every waking moment. When Gerhard returned from his time with the Staircase however, those feelings had built themselves up into a pyre of near uncontrollable fury.

“I just-” Her hand curls into fists, nails digging into her palms. “-It is just so much. I feel heavy with it and I don’t like my thoughts but I cannot stop them or what I am feeling. What Arcravine did. I-” She turns her face away, her accented voice taking on a rumble like that of a dragon. “-I am glad he is trapped in the body we made him. I don’t know what kind of a person that makes me for saying something like that, but it is the one comfort in all of this I can take. That every time he sees his reflection in the water, he knows he is stuck.”

Orianna’s shoulders slump, just a little. “But I also know it will not be for long. Not if he keeps getting his way. And Calla- Oh, my sister-” She buries her face in her hands, weeping for what is one of the few fates worse than death. “She trusted me and I just stood there, Seeing, and doing nothing-”

“Oh, imi-ib…” Gerhard whispers, pulling his love closer to him. It is not the first time such immense grief has entered their lives, nor, he thinks, will it be the last. Small comfort then that he can hold her, this time. Smaller comfort still that it is all he can do.

“Calla has had this blade swinging above her neck for some time. You have not betrayed her one bit. And I know that she trusts you still, just as you would her.” His hair is pulled back into a messy knot that rests on the nape of his neck, the most he could manage after his first steps home. His verdant green cloak, draped with haste over one of their dining room chairs, still exhales his travels out into the room.

Gerhard places a hand on the side of Orianna’s cheek, gently raising her chin to face him. His thumb gingerly moves to wipe her tears away, a fruitless gesture that he can’t stop himself from anyway. “You are the Star Herald, chosen of the Wyrm Queen herself. And you didn’t even need any of that to save me.”

She leans into his touch. Gerhard was right and Orianna knew it — or a part of her did, at least. It was hard though that first day.

When the tears had run their course and her anger had burned down to embers, other thoughts started lifting their heads out of the dirt to remind her that there were further concerns that needed addressing. Such things like what will they do next? To find the right path, Orianna took to her books, journals, and scrolls — and to the stars. She became entirely nocturnal, consulting the constellations she had collected and added to her Star Map from the beginning of the calendar year, studying them for reminders and signs, comparing their omens to the ones she was recording now.

“My journaling has not been as thorough as it was when I first came out here,” she says quietly as Gerhard enters her small observatory, bringing Orianna a midnight lunch. Crates labelled ‘DO NOT OPEN’ are pushed to the corners and edges of the room as best as they can be. Calla’s possessions have served as both a silent presence and constant reminder to Orianna as she worked, but it is not the same as Gerhard’s. She reaches up as he comes to sit down with her, taking comfort in his touch, allowing herself a moment to relax. A knot between her shoulders eases just a little. He has joined her in spending more time awake at night to help her, but also keep her company.

In front of Orianna is her journal. Normally so filled with notes on the places she has been and what has happened since her journey in the Dawnlands began, she reaches forward and flips back and forth between blank sheets of paper eventually settling on the page dated Hammer 16, 1501 DR which is noticeably shorter in text. Gerhard picks up her tea and wraps her hands around it, forcing her to pause for a moment, which makes her smile, but only for a moment.

“I have been going through and adding the important things from those days that are missing. There are… more than I realised.” Orianna takes a sip of her tea and leans into Gerhard. “My memory is good, but my Star Map is helping to remind me what I may have forgotten.”

“Your memory is great, but as they say, life happens when we stop writing it down.” He leans down to read the page she had paused at, one hand idly reaching up beneath her hair to gently rub at her scalp while the other guides his eyes from word to word. “Luckily the stars are always watching, hmm? What is this one?”

“It is of the time we went to the City of Judgment,” Orianna answers. “Digs seems intent on visiting Azharul in the Land of the Dead,” she tells him, briefly glancing down at her incomplete journal notes. “The timing is good, for many reasons. Maldrosa said Azharul may have a vessel that could help us get Calla’s soul back, something to keep her safe.”

He places a kiss upon her head in response, whispering into her hair. “I knew you’d find a plan to bring her home. Just remember you have a house full of us that can help.”

“I know, imi-ib,” she responds softly, closing her eyes, breathing in the moment with him.

When Orianna opens them, she flips to a month later — Alturiak 14, 1501 DR. Pale blue fingers pass over the crude drawing of the stave the First Mountain had given Calla for the part she had played in giving him a new body.

“We had no idea then, but now… we really were paying right into his palm.” She pauses. “I will get better at insighting the Mountain. We don’t know his full plan, but I will puzzle it out.”

“I know you will. It’s hard to understand what motivates someone like him, but you’ve gotten closer, right?” Gerhard shakes his head with a sigh. “It’s awful to think about being cast out of your family. And worse to think at the lengths he’ll go to get back at them.”

“‘Obstacles are meant to be overcome,’” she says to herself. “I spoke to Henri about Arcravine’s motives before we went to the Court of Sorcery. Out of everyone in our not so little family, he would be the only one able to put to words what motivates the First Mountain. It has taken a lot of effort from many of us to reach him, to show Henri that what he thought he wanted was not what he was seeking.” She sighs. “I don’t know why or how he was able to remember what he was before either — when Arcravine was all of Earth combined. The Behemoth. Did someone tell him? Was it some imprint on his very essence that helped him remember?”

“It could be anything. Some things we are just destined to discover about ourselves,” Gerhard replies, eyeing Orianna’s staff leaning nearby, “and others we know from the very beginning.”

She eyes him in turn, wondering who he is speaking about, worrying at the thought that he may know things he cannot say. At least, not yet.

Every night Orianna tries to reach Stellarum, to find out what was happening, or what the Archwyrm’s next steps might be, but to no avail. The only thing she can do is keep to her journals and books and scrolls — and the stars.

She finished filling in the missing days in her journal over the following days, meagre though their entries are. Flipping back further and further, a phrase written nearly two years ago leaps out at her.


There is a dropping sensation into the pit of her stomach, like gravity pulling her backwards through Time and Space. Her breath comes in short, sharp, quick starts as feeling leaves her fingers. She tries to move but feels like she cannot, like a stone in her gut weighs her down. She won’t be trapped again, not in that place, not in that memory, or the other recent one. The loud sound of wood scraping against tile. An ink pot toppling over. A teacup clinking as it is shoved before shattering by her cloven foot. Valethra and Maurice run from the kitchen, startled by the sudden sounds, confused by the flashing lights coming from the Star Cradle as sheets of parchment fall like petals to the floor. Light and dark waters seep across blank and scribbled sheets, meeting somewhere in the middle when Orianna finally finds her voice.

“No…”

When Glastor and Phystal created their massive spell in the Court of Sorcery, Calla said she saw a part of it had something to do with the Staircase.

When Mister had her sequestered away in the Tower Out of Time, it was to decipher a puzzle one of the Infinite, his Father, the Gentleman, had made. She had gotten close, very close, to solving it. The results would have meant Mister could open a gate directly onto the Staircase, and everything where the gate opened up to would be slowly sucked into the Staircase.

Ink stained fingers rise as knees buckle. She falls, so heavy with dread at what could be, but should not be, what may be.

“It can’t-… cannot be possible…”

His arms are there to catch her, to lift her up as concern washes over Gerhard’s face like a tide dashing boats against the shore. “Orianna, it’s okay. I’m here. What is it? Are you alright?” Carefully, he helps her sit, the shower of silver that had heralded his arrival still settling onto the floor of their kitchen. “Did you discover something?”

Her hands search for him, trying to find purchase in the sudden tempest Orianna finds herself in. Gerhard captures one, and distant, Seeing eyes focus on the land that is his face.

“Imi-ib, I-… I am- I was- I will-” Breath leaves her lungs as great wings beat against the cage of her ribs. The room spins and she has to close her eyes to hold the nausea at bay. Only Gerhard squeezing her hand, arm securely wrapped around her keeps Orianna tethered. She feels herself shaking but can’t stop, and so rides the waves as they come.

Eventually, the squalls lessen to gentler swells and Orianna finds the breath to fill her lungs enough to speak again. “I may have found a connection… to something from the time when M-Mister had p-put me-… in that Tower.” In starts and stops she illustrates to Gerhard the connection she thinks she found. That between what the imprisoned Infinite had her — and the many other versions of her — working on and what the spell the Primordials created could possibly, potentially be.

“Both are spells meant to open the Staircase where it cannot- should not go. The difference is that Mister’s- or rather, the Gentleman’s spell would have resulted in a universe being sucked into the Staircase, thus more than likely destroying some of it in part. But with the Behemoths and their bones- they are supposed to be in a place out of Space and Time. But the Staircase is meant to be able to go every where and any when. Who is to say that what Arcravine has is not a version of the spell puzzle Mister had me working on?” She looks at him and her eyes fill with tears. “Does that mean that I-… I am the reason this has- is- will happen?” She spasms in Gerhard’s arms each time she changes presence. It is clear that Orianna cannot quite differentiate between past, present, and future.

“You don’t know that, imi-ib. It’s okay,” he whispers, wrapping himself further around her in an attempt to shield her from the ghosts that haunt her memory. “There are many things we- I- don’t know about the Staircase. Maybe this spell from the Court of Sorcery was the very same you worked on. But remember, when you told me what you saw in the Plane of Time, at the end of the Dawn War?” He furrows his brow, deep in thought.

“You saw the… ‘'Upper Management’ open the door to the space beyond time. Maybe they can do what Mister could not, but… the way you described it seemed natural.” He sighs, unsure of what to say to ease her mind, knowing that there is only one true balm and that it remains out of reach.

“Maybe we should ask Henri if he remembers anything more. We know Mister had met Astaros, maybe he had met the others. Or, maybe Stellarum would know. Have you tried to speak with her again?”

“I-I haven’t tried calling for her today, but I could try?” Orianna says it more like a question. The shaking has nearly stopped and her white knuckled grip eases enough for her to feel her fingertips again. Now that she is coming back fully to the present Orianna feels tired. But she also knows she will feel better knowing if she can speak to someone who could know the answers without sending Gerhard away to find them.

At the thought, she reaches up to lightly touch his face. “Will you stay with me, imi-ib?”

“Always.” His hand finds hers, pressing her fingertips into his cheek before lowering them to brush past his lips. “You know I’m never far.”

Orianna sighs and pulls him in. Their kiss lasts a moment that seems to stretch into eternity.

After helping her stand, she goes to retrieve her staff and the crystal foci, and as she has done every night before, and many times before that, she calls out to the Queen of the Archwyrms.

“O Mother of Starlight, can you hear me?” Orianna asks, tentatively. She licks her lips in hopeful uncertainty. “If you can, and you are not-… too preoccupied, I would greatly appreciate your council.” She glances at Gerhard. A sudden thought occurs to her and she adds hastily, “And to ask for your help with some immediate safety concerns.”

Without hesitation Orianna’s staff begins to rattle and shake as the gemstone at its peak starts to glow brighter. When the gem is shining with the brightness of a star, the light coalesces into a single ball that moves and positions itself next to Orianna. It reshapes itself, becoming a vaguely humanoid form, the light fading away. When the last of the light leaves her humanoid form, Stellarum, the Wyrm Queen stands before the two lovers. She gives Gerhard a hug first, a little to the man’s surprise. Then she hugs Orianna, which lasts much longer. Her arms squeeze the tiefling tightly, as if Stellarum does not wish to let go for fear of what might happen if she does.

“I’m very sorry for not being able to respond to you for the last few days,” says Stellarum. “It has been chaos trying to not only keep the other Archwyrms from rampaging through the Plane Of Earth, but also making sure that some of Kessarax’s duties are maintained and not at risk of being compromised.”

Orianna and Gerhard share a look. It was no surprise the Archwyrms wanted to act immediately, and with as much retribution as they could — Vulcanax and Kestrasz probably leading the charge. But it was the other part, about duties needing to be maintained, that tugged at something in her mind. But the thought wouldn’t surface, there was too much anxiety at present.

“I am here now, my Herald,” Stellarum says. “How is it I may be of assistance?”

“I am so glad you are here,” replies Orianna. She hasn’t let go of Stellarum either, pulling back just enough to take Gerhard’s hand. “I have been going over my journals and maps, looking for signs, clues- anything that might help me- us connect the clues to what has happened and what will happen, when I came across this entry…”

Orianna takes Stellarum through the same thought process, the same possible evidence she had shown to Gerhard. Not once does she let go of his hand, nor does he stop rubbing comforting circles across the back of her own. When she gets to the end of her explanation she looks worryingly at the Wyrm Queen.

“We know Mister’s goal was to open the Staircase to a place it should not have gone, but is that not the same goal as the Primordials? Could they be using a modified version of this- this… puzzle?”

“Hmm,” Stellarum intones, thoughtfully. “It is certainly possible that this puzzle is a base component of the spell they created, the Court of Sorcery is a repository of secrets long forgotten by most. It could have been lost somewhere in there… But having not seen the spell matrix myself, I cannot confidently confirm your theory here, Orianna. But perhaps we could still use this information to counter his plans.

“As you know the Staircase is a structure of infinite possibilities. Such a puzzle like this would have multiple forms it could take. If one form allows someone to open a door, perhaps another form would allow us to close a door.”

“Then… is it up to us alone to figure it out?” She glances at Gerhard. “The Infinite would not be inclined to help us… would they, imi-ib?”

“Ah- well-” Gerhard shrugs, his desire to do more clear on his face. “I’m not sure. You know they don’t always like to get involved, but this is close to home. We could always ask Andromeda? She has the most reason to want to help, after all. And she’s always been close with us.”

“She has,” agrees Orianna. “If you see her before we do, will you ask for us?”

“Of course,” he replies, both with words and a squeeze of her hand and a smile.

She returns it, feeling a little more at ease.

“The other immediate concerns we have are, well…” Orianna sweeps the room with a glance. “The wards. Since Kessarax was the one to make them, and due to her- current state, it isn’t safe for the keys to be kept here. I have done what I can to protect the house and the street but…”

“Ah yes of course. I will attempt to rewrite the spells Kessarax has put in place so it should be harder for her to bypass them, but it’s not exactly my area of expertise. I will also put up my own wards. They won’t be as strong, but they will help keep the keys and, more importantly, you and your family safe. Is there any specific request you might have for the wards that I could try and integrate?”

Orianna thinks for a moment. “Before things went… the way they did, I believe making the area akin to the sacred groves in Ashkha worked quite well. I can provide the casting of such a spell daily, but if there is a way to amplify or extend it, with your help that would be wonderful.”

“If you cast the spell, I should be able to do both — amplify the effects of the spell and put enough power into it to make it a more permanent casting.”

“Then let us do so,” Orianna says. “I need to make sure our home is safe.”

“Then take my hands, my Herald, and we will make sure this place is as safe as we can make it.” Stellarum holds both her hands out for Orianna to take.

With a look and a nod to Gerhard, she lets go of her love’s hand, reaches into a pouch on her belt taking out a sprig of mistletoe, then places her hands into the Wyrm Queen’s.

Closing her eyes, Orianna breathes in deeply, taking in all the scents in the air — the spices Gerhard used in the last meal he prepared for them; The lingering water in a nearly empty jug, sliced lemons slowly drying at the bottom; The cooled embers in the large stone fireplace where ashes and soot gather across bricks and hearthstone. She breathes in again and casts her senses out further, beyond the thresholds of her home, down into the cellar’s dirt-packed floor and deeper still; then up into the air where sparrows and ravens fly, one prey to another in the endless dance of hunter and hunted. She feels the air still, the earth sigh, the glowing embers rumble, and the water swell. They hear her and they await her invocation.

Deep in Orianna’s chest, she begins to hum, Stellarum joining her in a low pitch in perfect harmony to hers. Lifting her hoof, Orianna scrapes it across the tiled ground, drawing patterns against the tiles with one cloven hoof, then the other. Meanwhile, Stellarum’s eyes begin to sparkle like diamonds in sunlight as stars manifest a cape that gently falls from her shoulders and onto the ground.

From where their hands meet comes a bright light like the two have trapped a star in the palms of their hands. Keeping hold of the mistletoe, Orianna lifts it to be perfectly between Stellarum and herself, level with their breast bones. Then she opens her eyes, softly staring at the fungal plant between them. She begins to feel an immense amount of power flow into her, like nothing she has felt before. Words uttered in a strange dialect of Druidic start pouring out of her. It takes a moment, but the others pick out the essences of Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran, the elemental languages of the spirits around them. Orianna funnels these words together, creating new phrases and words with the most ancient form of Draconic she knows.

As the words fall from her lips, the outline of Orianna’s form begins to melt away. Large draconic wings unfold from her back and the Starlight Cradle melts into the Crown that encircles her head when in her starry form. Except there is something vastly different about her body. The colours are darker, the light more radiant, more cosmic in appearance than she has ever been. Part of her sees how much she looks like Stellarum in her true form. Even her wings grow larger, feeling more powerful, and the crown glistens with a beautiful, starlight-like radiance.

From where she stands, a slow moving wave of starlight rushes out from Stellarum’s feet. As it over takes the whole house, the world as Orianna perceives it falls away. She is floating in deep space, surrounded by stars and nebulae. But they have a familiar shape. They are the rooms in her house, filled with constellations of her family’s things and precious memories. Shifting and moving around this space are strands of arcane sigils, forming a massive lattice structure. Slowly, small motes of starlight drift from Stellarum and connect to some of these sigils, forcing them to change as she rewrites them.

Stellarum smiles and in Orianna’s mind she hears her speak. “Let my power fuel your spell Orianna. Take it in, let it flow into the spell and then release it like you would a deep calming breath.”

She nods. Closing her eyes, Orianna can feel the waiting spirits of nature, poised and ready to answer her summons. With a sense that feels sluggish at first — like a muscle that hasn’t quite gotten used to being used or hasn’t stretched as far before — Orianna begins. She directs air and water to mix together, forming a solid wall of fog that rises above the rooftops of the houses on Archelson Avenue. It is so thick it appears more like a solid wall. But with a guiding thought and a change in their composition, the two spirits fade into invisibility, at least for those whom she specifies. Those people, their names and faces, float by her as constellations: Gerhard… Thaneni… Rimmon… Valethra… Maurice… Elarris… Matches… On an on, through the gallery in her mind of all those people she considers family, found or otherwise.

Next, she tells the spirits of the earth to grow outside her garden, encouraging the thorn and the thistle to grasp at unwanted guests and intruders, whilst telling the bramble and the moss to hide their grasping kin. She asks for four other spirits to inhabit the nearby trees. One undulates into a willow tree, another tumbles into a mighty oak, a third finds an aged ash, and the fourth a hearty rowan. Their roots lift up as each tree suddenly stretches and expands, growing larger, becoming aware of the continuing flow of constellations passing through Orianna’s mind: Henri… Frigus… Waffles… Lucky… Zari… Florian… Toothy… Digs…

The spirits of fire are the last she calls to, knowing their tendency towards destruction. Daring Heights has been razed by the element many times in the past, so the spirits of that nature are very familiar with this place. It would be foolish to ignore their history. Yet how to incorporate them into these protections?

Orianna thinks about her first encounter with Vulcanax, how utterly terrifying the destruction he caused upon his awakening. There was no way they could approach, to do so would have meant their destruction. Perhaps this was where the thought was born from. She was done with being the one who was frightened and scared. The spirits of fire would help her create the protections she needed. They are the animus to the others after all. Something more designed to repel, an antipathy to those who are not meant to be here. If any creatures of a Primordial nature came near this safe haven without first being invited by her, then they would feel the power of this place and be utterly terrified.

Stellarum said to release the spell like a deep calming breath when she was ready but Orianna did not feel calm. She felt like a barely contained storm, fraying at the edges. But she knew this place, this home could not be in the throws of the maelstrom’s waves. It would be swept away in the tempest otherwise. It needed to be the eye of the hurricane, where peace and balance could be felt in the very air they breathed. So with each exhale she pushed the storm out, fortifying the barely settled protections with new vigour, bolstering the spirits with the energy given to them by her with Stellarum’s support.

Stellarum’s voice once again enters into Orianna’s mind. “You’re doing amazing Orianna. Now, to bind the spell in place, I will reach to the stars and pull down their light, amplifying it. You must take hold of the light and use it to anchor the spell.”

Stellarum looks upwards and Orianna does the same. Silver clouds and blue sky begin to peel away revealing the vast expanse of the cosmos beyond. Stellarum begins speaking in a language unfamiliar to Orianna, but it is ancient and it is powerful.

Slowly, the light of the stars stretches out and down into long strands of pure radiance, beginning to reach down towards the two of them. As the strands get closer and closer, small wisps of energy detach themselves from Stellarum and merge with the strands of starlight. As they do, the strands begin to glow brighter, rippling in vibrant colours of silver, purple, pink, red, blue, green and gold.

The strands hover over Orianna having been called and now desiring to be put to use.

She mimics Stellarum’s movement, extending her arms out, palms towards the strands of light, encouraging them to come towards her. They answer immediately, finding the starlight points on her body — the same places where, when not in her starry form, her draconic scales would be. The moment they connect she lets out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. It was almost too much. Orianna could feel herself slipping, losing herself like in one of her visions except there would be no way she could find her way back to herself again. Not this time. She would be lost amongst the stars, knowing so much, Seeing so much and yet unable to do anything because she would not be her. She would be far far away.

A familiar presence made itself known to her mind, its presence gentle and sure. Gerhard. Her pillar, her anchor. This time when she breathed out she fell down instead of up and could feel the weight of her body despite its incorporealness.

With a small nod of acknowledgement to Stellarum, Orianna closed her eyes and began to dance. With each swoop of her arms, the sway of her hips, and curl of her tail she directed the threads of starlight to weave around the spirits, bracing their purpose with their certain ever consistent light. One by one they locked, becoming new and permanent fixtures, constellations in the nebula in and around her home. She did not know how long she danced for. It could have been mere seconds, it could have been hours. Orianna could feel her body reaching its limit when she stumbled just at the end of a particularly generous sweep of her leg into a ronde de jambe. She catches herself though, turning the sudden vertigo into a spin and a thrust of her arms forward. With that, everything comes to stillness.

Stellarum watches intently to Orianna’s beautiful dance and as she finishes, Stellarum greets her with a wide and proud smile. The Night Keeper then gives Orianna a low, deep bow. When she does, a gentle pulse of starlight comes from her and the room around the two slowly returns to normal as the Web of Starlight that anchors the spirits of nature weaves and binds itself to the very structure and foundation of Orianna’s home.

Stellarum raises back from her bow and looks to Orianna still beaming with pride. “You were magnificent, My Herald. A truly beautiful sight to behold. The spell is complete and it has successfully bound to this place and should keep away most who would seek to harm you or your family. I also did manage to rewrite the wards Kessarax put in place. They will continue to make this home a fortress. Is there anything else you require of me, Orianna?”

She is panting and hunched forward slightly as Gerhard comes up beside her, making himself available for her should she wish to lean on him, but still giving Orianna enough space to breathe. She clears her throat, straightens up and says, “No, there is nothing else I require. I…” Her gaze dips a little but she rights herself before she looks away entirely. “I appreciate your help with everything. Just… know that as we are distraught for Calla, I have not forgotten about Kessarax. She may be an Archwyrm of immeasurable power, but she is still your kin, our family too…”

The smile on Stellarum’s face fades and is replaced by a look of regal determination. “Orianna I want you to know that the others and myself are already in complete agreement that the lives of both Kessarax and Calla are of equal importance and value. We are all one family and we will not let our family be held hostage and used like this by our enemies.”

She takes a small step towards Orianna. “I promise you this: When you are ready to rescue both Calla and Kessarax from Arcravine’s clutches, you will have the full might of all the Archwyrms behind you.”

“Good. Good,” she says, relaxing back and leaning into Gerhard. The exertion of the spell was finally catching up with her, but she forced herself to stay upright. “And… have you spoken with Astaros since?” Orianna asks, tentatively.

“Briefly yes,” Stellarum responds. “I have informed the First Flame of what has happened. They were equally as upset and angered by Arcravine’s actions but unfortunately my other duties prevented us from having a proper in depth discussion of what to do next. Now though I have more time, so that will come about soon.”

“When it does, could you let us know?” She feels Gerhard’s arm slip around her waist as she finally leans into him completely. She may be ready for the longest sleep she’s had in months but her eyes are bright and burning with a fervour of starlight. “I am sure I am not the only one who wants to be there when such a conversation happens.”