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What is the price of victory?

Dark clouds hung low in the sky, moving like a vast angry ocean of dark. The very air was still, like a stifling blanket that absorbed all. The wind had fled long ago, unable to depart without leaving even a breeze. Thus it was always quiet across that bleak landscape where nothing grew and nothing dwelt. They had made sure of that, in the end. Now none of them could recall the taste of the sun, the pitter patter of rain, a running brook, the taste of dew, not even the snow. It was all gone, not that any that remained cared. For such hearts only blackened could endure now in the Anathema Heights.

There was however, a lonely spot where one could glimpse the old and be powerless to change it. Oh, they had tried, even she, but all failed and it had grown upon her heart like a thorn. She journeyed there away from the lifeless land to see what once had been, time and time again. Day after day, like a call she had no choice but to answer. There upon the battlefield of old it haunted her- Last monument of what had been. Protected by an invisible shield, staving off the corruption. The battle once won, never ending.

The grass was green before her in that small clearing. Not a dry green tinged with yellow but deep and rich, as if after a good rain. The earth was still brown and black, not the cracked gray and lifeless dust etched all around it. Even the light within was radiant, colorful, filtered of the choking air that surrounded. There also lay flowers within, of ivory petals held high by sturdy stocks. Now and again she felt as if she could smell them, a sweet scent of growth but no others were able. And in the center of it all was the one who’s body had never decayed since the day she had first fallen there. For it was not just a monument but also a tomb.

The demon with her pale skin and her cracked carapace, arms at her sides where they had fallen, whilst her legs were covered in a blanket of flowers. A mane of thick white hair sprawled out from her head and mingled with the grass. Such hair had once been flaming red, now no longer. Her features were so that it looked as if she was merely sleeping and at any moment she might wake up and do battle once more, with the mighty sword sheathed within the earth beside her.

That sword… The very reason she was left undisturbed. Purity was its name, wielded only by her and one other. The blade shined silver in the light, waiting for someone to come along and pick it up. She had long known, no one ever would. Yet Purity still stood, proud and untouched, just like everything within. The sword that had almost struck her down.

Long had she wished it had.

Maeve sighed where she knelt. Coming to that place only made the memories more vivid but long had she known how much she needed it. A sickness never healed, only worsening as time passed.

Her shaky voice at last burst forth, for rare was it she spoke at all there, “Not a day passes I do not wish I had died upon the field of battle. Struck down by your hand. Not cheated by what had happened well out of our control. You would have won, I wish you had won. It would have been better that way. My Tingalina…” Speaking her name aloud made the Fae shudder with great longing. “She would never have taken up the sword against me. She would not have died that day with you. But you just… The will was gone, blown away like your mother.” She had learned the truth of that day only by chance and it was really only a hunch. It had been enough to placate her thoughts. Such a warrior the demon had been, she should not have fallen like that without outside cause.

Her thoughts, never far from it, focused on her love, “Tingalina… Would have hurt a long while if I had died. But you would have helped ease my passing, wouldn’t you? For we call you demon but even I know an angel when I look upon one. Even fallen as you are now. Such is war and its cruelty.”

Maeve stood, thoughts turning back to her own demise. “If only it had been so.” Her emotions ran thick in the air. “But I slew her. I struck down my love and for what? I have no one at my side and there hasn’t been a day I go without thinking of her smile… Her touch… Her laugh!” She cried, slamming her fist into the invisible wall. “Our gods abandoned us! We are alone in a wasteland of our making! And you angel, dearest Newygnog, you get to rest forevermore! No one now lives to remember you save me and even then I never knew you. Not really and I cannot die to deliver you this final death. The death of memory. Try as I have, this is my curse. A punishment for my sins.” Her voice fell silent. She looked down at her hands and began to weep.

Maeve’s thoughts turned to the question that had long since haunted her. She knew in her black heart, only the dead found lasting peace when Fae turned against Fae. When their dust settled and their screams heard no more. Even after crushing defeats and the great victorious battle. Those who remained as living memory of the war were now forced to watch the world change without them, on either side. Forever tarnished, few as they were. Now unable or unwilling to move on, they suffered. She suffered.

That was the price of victory.

“Go, beyond this world…”

Was all that Layn could hear, a memory of a sound so loud that it drowned out the roar of the colossal thrusters and the mad beating of her heart. The sight of the heavens above them getting closer and closer, the endless possibilities of having a whole universe to explore, for a lifelong adventurer it was a dream come true.



“... Far beyond the sight of the Gods…”

Even with Luna’s body sunk into the cushioned material of her seat, she could feel her heart break as she listened to the memory. Leaving everything behind – Her memories, her home, her friendship with the Light… Luna struggled with all her might to speak, to confess her true feelings to the person that had raised her, to hear her voice one last time.



“...Where you can be safe…”

Mitt fought desperately against the mist in his eyes. At that moment it felt like all the sand in the Frontier of Tears had gone into them, but he knew better. He knew that the memory would repeat not only now, but forever more. Quieter than now, perhaps, but he knew that every time the sound echoed in his head, he’d remember the Dunes he left behind, the food he never ate, the people he never met… And he would remember those who never had the chance to leave those things behind.



Leon grit his teeth so hard one of his fangs cracked, but he did not feel it then. He felt only shame, only humiliation, only anger and sadness. That they had to leave their home, that they had to leave their whole lives behind, because… Because…

Bitter tears ran down the sides of his face, his expression dark and eyes dull.

For a moment, he felt the blistering sandstone of the streets of the Sanctuary beneath his bare feet. He felt the hunger of a dozen days without food. He felt the despair that had been the rule throughout his life, eating away at his soul and mind.

“... Where you can have a future.”

And then he felt a single ray of hope – Not enough to blind him, but enough to show him that Light existed, that there was something to look forward to, even when one lived in Hell. It calmed him down.



As New Sanctuary broke through the heavens with a trail of smoke and Essence behind it, Aella dropped to her knees on the hot sand of the Frontier. Panting, sweating, bleeding from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth, she lay there on top of the dune. Had she been a mortal, she would have passed out long ago due to the pain.

Shakily, she lifted her head up to see the Flying City disappear into the sky above the sky and let out a trembling gasp of relief. Sending her children far beyond the grasp of the others was the only thing Aella could think of that would ensure their safety. The only way to save them from the coming wars. But it wasn't goodbye.

"I promise to meet you all again some day. After this land has healed and we have achieved harmony, I will look for you... No matter how long it takes."

The hole in the sparsely clouded skies closed back up and Aella hung her head and slowly crumpled to the ground. Her pink tears dripped onto the sand as she began to lose consciousness. Footsteps in the sand approached.

“Regulus, Larwen… You’ve come for me…” The Goddess muttered and passed out.

---

The blow sent the fae to the ground with a quick shriek. Maeve sighed as she watched from her throne, the debacle that always played out. An upstart fae wishing for more titles, more land, more brides, more husbands, more, more, more. There was little left to give! And it always led to said fae, getting put into their proper station. As her guards began to kick the small wicker-like creature, its dust began to leak. Maeve raised a hand, and the obedience instilled within one hundred generations, burst forth. Like a second nature, they stopped and stood at attention.

The fae whimpered in relief, a measly attempt to stand was rewarded in failure and a thump upon the wooden floor. The sickly smell of their dust hung in the air as it spoke, looking at the floor before her throne, “Mercy, Queen. Mercy.”

Maeve tilted her head, she had been so close to spacing off, a sweet sense only ingrained boredom could produce. If she had eyes she would have rolled them in return. “Yes. Mercy. Quite useful once you’ve been beaten. Do you know how many times I’ve heard those words?” She asked, not waiting for an answer. “Everyday. Day after day. As you parishioners, you sycophants, you worthless creatures come to grovel at my feet. And when begging and groveling fails, you resort to pettiness and demands. Like you have earned whatever you seek. Bah!” She waved her hand, done with the conversation.

The guards grabbed the fae under the arms and flew out, the fae pleading as they went. When they were gone at last, the queen sighed again. She wrapped her hands upon the wood of her dark throne. There really wasn’t anything left to give. The Anathema Heights were overpopulated and it seemed every single Perfected Fae had some distant relation or claim to a piece of land, even down to simple boulders. They had become a society of vainglory and wanton greed, yet there was nothing left to have and so violence was paramount. So much infighting and backstabbing. It was a miracle they were overpopulated at all, since so many were killed in petty squabbling.

She couldn’t really blame them. There was nothing to do. They were a conquering people with nothing to conquer. That damnable desert had made sure of it. Oh, they had tried numerous times to pass through it, especially in the early days after the war, but not even Nessa had returned from her expedition. That fool. And lovely Aina and ventured over the ocean, gone forevermore. Following either coast led to only further frustration, as if a joke they couldn’t perceive had been played on her entire race. But that wasn’t so hard to understand. Maeve had suspected a long time ago that they were simply being contained. The outside world was afraid of them, as they rightly should be. Yet, none but she could even remember what that outside world could even look like. What it truly felt to be amidst green grass and budding flowers. The laughs of her kin in the fertile spring. Her hand tightened into a ball, it was the only ounce of anger she had left to give.

And so her people rotted in stagnation. A fitting punishment for their sins and Maeve had grown powerless to stop it. Then again, she didn’t really care anymore. Everything was so dull. She had become queen of her people but the cost, well, she lived with it everyday. There had always been attempted coups, for none truly loved her, nor did she think the Perfected Fae could love at all but try they did to supplant her. They always failed. She was just too strong and far too stubborn.

She leaned back, slouching. It was an endless existence of perfect constant boredom.

“I hope you’re proud, O’maker mine.” She said under her breath.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, of the one who had cursed them all, a feeling overcame her. One she had felt only briefly now in the span of her lifetime. The presence of the divine. She sat up, heart racing. Had she only imagined it? She searched and as she did, she rose, the presence so small and wispy. Like dust on the clung to the air in fine particulate. She grabbed her chest and through her presence at it and as she did she felt it, she felt the maker. The one who had doomed her, who had taken and twisted her very being. Who had promised the world in her own vision. It had all been lies! Terrible, terrible lies! She had just been a tool, a feckless worthless tool in the maker’s eyes! One who killed, who destroyed! She could feel him, she could…!

The presence blinked out of existence. Maeve froze.

Had he returned?

Night dripped with quiet contentment across the vast dune sea. Scattered remnants of triumphs and tragedies littered the sands like bespeckled jewels as he skirted past. Whilst lining the heavens, a fiery ascent showed bright orange within the unwavering stars, the silent watchers. His adopted sanctuary. Up and up it went and to where none could say for sure. It was perhaps the final stairway to paradise, taking the chosen to a better place. A place not even he could fully perceive. Had that been how Seihdhara had been viewed?

Now the way was faded, giving in to the immeasurable dark, just as that fiery goddess had left the world colder. Now none could now leave such as she. The only respite any had who dared look up, was that the night was cool and it would be the only comfort for those left behind in that desert. For with the sun would come the oppressive heat. The life sapper, the energy drainer. For such had been life in those sands since their conception, he knew. Save the blessed gift she had given to parched throats. Sweet water from natural springs, the lifeblood of all in their oasis respites. Now nearly spent.

No wonder she sent them away.

He had long questioned his perception of reality. Lost among the stars. Even time had been a mere memory for him. He had forgotten how it had worked. Now, as he walked upon the sands fscing the rising sun, feeling every grain amidst his toes, it dawned upon him that time had passed. A great deal of it. Not everything was the same, nor had everything changed in his absence. His long absence. Even in that moment under the stars, guilt wracked him. Every fiber of his being felt it. Coming back had let it all flood back in, as if it had ever really left. It was now more apparent than ever before, his great failing. The scar that would never heal. But that was known. For now he could set things right. As he should have from the very beginning.

And he would start by mending a rift with the one who he had at last answered. The one he cradled in his arms even as he walked. The one who he had never stopped thinking about. The one whose kindness had seen past the monster, into the very heart of a twisted thing. And she had seen something. The smallest inkling capable of greatest change. He could not hold back a small smile. How foolish this Goddess had been. She had, of course, been right.

“Aella.” he murmured, listening to her soft breathing. A weakness gripped her still, one that worried him. Morning light caressed her features and with it his perception anchored and the very land changed before them. A salty breeze hit him and his feet felt a wetter sand. Not as fine as the desert but equally longing. A seabird cried amidst the gentle lapping of the waves. As infinite as sand the ocean stared back at him, deep as it was blue.

The light here was brighter, reflecting from the water. It dazzled Aella’s features and he wanted to speak her name again, to wake her. But he did not. Whether out of fear or apprehension… He shook his head. He would wait for her to wake, to look into the very depths of her soul and utter the words he had long known to be the only thing he could say to her. If it took until the very world would crack and turn to dust he would still wait. It was only right, there upon the beach of their arrival, so very long ago.

---

The sun had risen well above the horizon by the time Aella stirred. She twitched two times, until she finally brought her hands to her temple and rubbed her head, brow furrowed.

It took her but a moment to realize that she was being carried, and with that realization came a jolt and a gasp so sudden that she was almost dropped. Her wings outstretched nearly completely, one of them going far out and the other finding itself half buried in the sand beneath her, feathers disheveled like never before.

“What-” Aella sneezed and coughed in surprise, her usual glow slowly returning as her eyes fluttered open and stared at the one carrying her. “You’re- No, it can’t be…” She rubbed her eyes once more and sighed. How far had she fallen, that she’d started seeing apparitions? Or maybe… ”Did the Many Masked God send you? If he did, then taking on this visage is… Distasteful. He’s been dead for hundreds of years.” Had her senses been working properly then, she wouldn’t have said such things. But as things stood, she counted herself lucky to even be able to maintain her current body alive after her latest display of power.

The man holding her said nothing but stared into her eyes, faintest hints of pupils within his gleaming white eyes. His ashen face was smooth and clean, just starting to show signs of age and it seemed so familiar. There was a hint of a soft smile upon his lips, one of relief or of etched weariness. The ocean breeze ruffled his short black hair and she became aware of his white tunic, the same color as his eyes. He still said nothing and it was as if he was searching for something with his intense gaze.

The longer they stared at each other, the more that Aella relaxed. First, her expression, then her body, until finally she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding and gently disengaged herself from the man’s arms, wobbly legs barely managing to hold her upwards. He made no move to keep her held but he seemed to slightly shiver once she looked again. ”... You look different than I remember. Can’t be one of them... It’s really you? I thought you…” Aella trailed off. What was she supposed to say? What if this person actually wasn’t the one she wanted them to be? What if he wasn’t Larwen? In this age, she couldn’t afford to make herself look like any more of a fool. ”... I thought you died on that altar. Two hundred and thirty seven years, four months, and fifteen days ago. Like me.”

He didn’t seem to be about to say anything, so Aella took the moment to look around and recognized the place. She hadn’t been there for a long time. ”This place… The memories… None of the New Gods know of it. It’s really you, isn’t it? Larwen.” Aella said quietly and looked away. She didn’t want him to see her in such a weak and pathetic state, nor did she want him to see her teary eyes or hear her thumping heart. Her hair fell over her face to act as a curtain. Goodness, she thought, when had she become so full of shame? She gave her wings a small flap and covered her face with her hands.

She’d dreamed of it for so long, of meeting Larwen once more and being able to go back to that hidden grove, resting in the shade of their creation’s canopy. She’d dreamed of it as a regal, magnificent encounter, where she was dressed in her best attire, her glow at its apex, and her grace intact. Instead, there she was… crying quietly to herself with her face hidden and shoulders slumped forward, dressed in a burned out life-regulating jumpsuit and with dried blood smeared all over her face.

His fingers weaved through her hair and a warm hand planted itself upon her left cheek. His thumb wiped away one of her tears and he at last spoke, his voice like a page out of a very fond book. “I have seen so many things amongst the stars and yet, that which found me so long ago, has never had any comparison in my heart.” he breathed, “Aella… ” A finger moved part of the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear which prompted her to lower her hands and look up at him, fresh tears still flowing. “Oh Aella.” he whispered and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms tight around her. “I am so sorry.”

Aella didn’t return the embrace with her arms, but with her wings. For the first time in ages, she felt like she was safe. ”No Larwen, I am sorry. When you left, I made myself the promise that I’d build a peaceful world to meet you upon your return, but instead… Well, things did not go to plan. So instead of coming back to a big welcome party, you find me slumped over on the verge of a mortal’s death in the middle of a desert of my own making, wearing a ruined artifact created by my children, and inhabiting a body that can only handle a shadow of my former power.”

“I… The Aella you knew, Larwen, was an idealist. She died hundreds of years ago, alone, on an altar in the middle of nowhere, and now this world’s stuck with me, a Goddess of Light who can only save people from behind the cover of shadows. I’m… Not worthy of you and neither is this war-torn world. You shouldn’t have come back. I’m sorry.” Aella confessed and with that weight taken off her shoulders, she felt a surge of strength inside her heart, allowing her to rest her hands and head against Larwen’s chest.

“And yet,” he said softly, “You still save them. Despite it all.” He squeezed a little tighter, as if he was afraid she might disappear. “Aella,” he whispered, “You are worth more to me than all of the grains of sand upon this world and all of the oceans of stars outside it. You will never be alone again. I am here now and I shall not leave you. I promise." He ran a hand through the back of her hair, rubbing with tenderness. "The only thing I ever expected of you upon my return, was that you would be here. A selfish request on my part but one I am most thankful for." He paused and then said, "When I heard your voice again I thought myself dreaming upon an invisible current. I had no true purpose but reflection and long did I reflect in the void. You have anchored me back, Aella. Thank you."

Aella pulled away, sniffled, and gave Larwen a half-smile. ”I waited so long to hear that.” Then, Aella looked out at the beach, the waves, the rays of orange-yellow light reflecting off the surface of the ocean… And closed her eyes and took a deep breath, only opening them after exhaling a few seconds later. Not everything was tainted by war here, and if places like these could exist after hundreds of years of being on the backfoot then perhaps she had not completely failed to preserve the peace and beauty of this new world. ”It makes me happy to hear your voice say those words, Larwen. They bring life to a dying heart.”

With one last look at the peacefulness of the beach, she turned back to Larwen with a renewed soft glow about her form. ”There is much work to be done, Larwen. Your children have been alone and rotting for centuries and need your presence to guide them to a fruitful future, and after that, the realms will be in need of a new Guardian. Are you ready to engage with this world once more, beloved brother?” Aella asked as she walked a few steps to the edge of the water and knelt down to wash her face.

“I always told myself I would be prepared. I believe those words still but,” He hesitated, looking to the sand, “Now I am not so certain. It is one thing to think about doing the right thing, to tell yourself that much when you are so removed from the problem. But now? Being here and feeling the earth, tasting the wind, all its pains and agonies… How does one- How do I lead a people that I once twisted and misguided and used with all cruel intentions, to a brighter future? I abandoned them Aella, just as I abandoned this world.” he looked at her with a pained expression, “I placed so much burden upon you and I’m afraid I’ll need to do it again, just for a little while longer. Where do we even begin?” he seemed to ask himself, looking back down, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

”I know where you must begin, and that is with the people you have abandoned. I don’t know how to begin however, only that you must be open and honest. In their eyes there will likely be nothing you can say or do to make up for what you’ve done but redemption is not what we seek, we just want to set things right.” Aella said, and after a moment continued, ”I may be able to help you smooth things over, but I’d like you to be there to tend my wounds and prevent my death if they become violent, as I am not as powerful as I once was.”

He looked at her, and seemed to notice for the first time what her words said. With another sorrowful look he said, "Perhaps before any of that, it would be better if you and I had a long talk. I would like to know what has occurred as I've been away. I need to know, Aella." He finished with soft spoken words.

Aella sighed, ”With my children gone, I have a surplus of time if nothing else. Come.” She grabbed Larwen by the hand and led him to a dryer part of the beach to sit at. After they got settled and had sorted out a campfire, which Aella needed in order to keep herself warm after slipping out of her damaged jumpsuit, she started to recount all the things that had happened to her after Larwen left all those years ago. ”So… After you left and I collapsed our grove, I met with...”