Chapter 18: New Seeds Grow

You wanted me to open up? You wanted me to not be so distant? I was not the one who ran, I was not the one who went silent. I opened my arms to you, and you backed away. What did you see? What did I do to deserve this? You showed me something more, then took it away. It is not my fault for your actions.

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.51. Vilorlith

   Vilorlith walked unseen among the goblins, not allowing their minds to even comprehend that she was even there. Most living things' minds understood this as disappearing, or teleporting, or just plain vanishing. She did no such thing; while she may not have been anywhere near a fraction of a percentile of her former power, she still understood the things she had built. As such, even when she stopped to look up into a goblin's eyes who stood a full foot taller than she, he didn't even know she was there, despite only being a few inches away from him. 

   Hob. Moving out of his way as he had only paused for a brief moment, she watched him go. Standing proud among the Family, she smiled as she watched his twisted and conflicted thoughts swim in his mind, suppressing his former rage with the temperance of time. She was proud of that boy; he had grown quite a bit since the injury that her champion inflicted on his eye. 

   But that thought only brought her to darker places. She wanted so desperately to appear to Ilgor and reestablish her bond with her, to renew and strengthen her Tether with her. However, Xelex's words haunted her now. "Enough questions, Vilorlith. I want you to know that I am doing everything I can to help you. But that tactic you are using with the priestess will not work. She needs to cleanse her soul of the infection for that to happen, and yes, it is theoretically possible. Though Bhal will never do it for her, he is too far gone on his power trip and his playthings." His words rang like a bell in her head for the thousandth time.

   He had told her that he was the one who taught her real magic. Teaching her the basic framework of the Song she herself had made. The methods were obvious to her; the structure of it was more than apparent. Ilgor sang or hummed all her spells now, fully drawing from her Spark rather than using the afterglow of Vilorlith’s song. 

   Putting her feet back in front of her, she forced herself to walk on as she watched the goblins go about their lives. Lamenting at her fate, unsure of what she could safely tell Illy now that she knew the infection seeped far down below anything they had thought possible. "What if telling her also told the Shadows everything they needed to know?" She thought to herself. 

   Pausing just outside their chapel, watching the Necromancer Fae-borne through the walls of the cliff. Though she knew she had been spotted likewise by that woman, she had an odd ability to always be able to see Vilorlith despite her efforts to be unseen. That little trick she did to force her to be visible a few weeks ago had startled her. Though it also showed her real connections to the goblins, whether they understood that or not was a question for later. 

   It did, however, demonstrate what the Sparks were in every soul. Though it was powered from a different source through different vectors, it did much the same thing as their methods. It was meant to show them where to draw from, to show them that the songs were designed to grow and expand until they became self-sustaining. Her magic, however, did both that and more; it showed the residual of those songs. Showing that even in death, their souls lingered. 

   Walking on as a light rain began to fall, her hair growing steadily more damp as she watched her children scurry along to the nearest dry spot. Xelex's words still made her wonder. She had never thought the Shadows were capable of turning against each other. They were a hive mind; they all shared memories and experiences, one of the reasons it made them damn hard to kill. 

   But, this Xelex that she had spoken to was not the Balance she had known. He was far more articulate, more evolved. If what he had said was true, he was capable of having his own motives and keeping them from the others. Even as she thought it, she lost herself in the memories, remembering the first time she had killed Xelex. 

   A newly infected planet, one that fell within a week. The outbreak was massive, entirely uncontained. The Legion was slow to respond; they had been backpedaling the entire time as the Children demanded answers from them. Answers they didn’t have, none that they were willing to admit to. None that Vilorlith was willing to admit to. 

   Still, when Vilorlith and Syn had landed on the planet like a pair of falling stars, Syn wasted no time incinerating the infected Children, despite the pain in her eyes. It wasn't as if Vilorlith enjoyed the task herself, her own claws tearing far too many apart. But it was her song that broke her own heart, with each note altering the reality around them. One where each soul never existed in the first place, the only way that she knew how to deal with the infection. Incinerate or void, there were no options left to them as the war continued. 

   This mission was to be their first attempt at eliminating one of the Shadows; this one was alone. Seemingly oblivious to the two goddesses carving a path through the dark masses of their own Changeling children. They were not themselves; their bodies moved, their minds functioned only on the basest of instincts. Hunger and anger were the only things left to them as their deformed bodies were tailored to suit the needs of whichever of the Shadows was the source of the infection in the area. 

   Ribcages inverted to become bone-like deterrents, the need for their internal organs having ceased as their Sparks powered their decaying forms. They heeded no mortal wound, they stopped at no pain, caring nothing for their own preservation. Obeying only that discordant song that existed inside the Shadows, no word they could speak reached their former children. 

   It didn't take long for Vilorlith and Syn to realize that no matter what they did would reawaken these husks that they once knew. Their faces, their voices remained, which only broke their hearts more with each one they slew. The Shadow had attempted to escape using that warp, like folding a piece of fabric together to join two points. But Vilorlith's song had lashed it to this place, keeping it still while they got their first real look at the monstrosity. 

   Turning its eyes toward them, they couldn't have described the thing. There were no words. A dark mass, a writhing mass of tendrils and eyes. A silver mask of a smiling tragedy floating in the center of the amorphous entity. To say it had a body would be wrong; it didn't exist in the same way the goddesses had, somewhere between reality and transience. 

   The eyes that did turn to them were senseless. A seeming understanding in them, but in the same way that one might understand the look in the eyes of a cornered beast, not one that could reason beyond survival. The infected children around them had grown still, as if commanded to remain that way. 

   The thing had slumped its way toward them as it pulled its not body along the ground. Absorbing any of the Children that happened to be in its way, what came out the other end was an unrecognizable mound of flesh. Wrong, disgustingly wrong, as they could still feel that they felt pain if the Shadow was the one to change them directly. 

   Vilorlith snapped back to the present as she remembered Syn raising a hand, but not before she had pulled the being painfully into a black hole. An act that sacrificed not only the Children in the immediate area, but the entire planet. "Is that really the same Xelex?" She thought again. Though the bile in her throat rose as she remembered what she herself had done to that world. Not even giving Syn the chance to slay him before her own anger bubbled over to quench its own flame. 

   Pushing the feeling away, pushing it to the darkest corners of her mind, she hid it away. As if she were far too fearful of the thought coming back, and letting it wash over her to sweep her away out into the currents that had taken her then, too. Shaking her head, refusing to let that feeling see the light of day again. 

   Thinking back to more practical matters, she walked toward where the Dwarves had built the bunk house, as they called them. A bunk house always seemed an odd term after seeing what they had actually built. Each family was given a room, while so were couples. The cave had been utterly transformed, multifloored and capable of housing the entire clan now. Certain individuals were given full rooms to themselves, like Ilgor. 

   Though many had chosen to erect screens and room separators inside their spacious new accommodations. Wide hallways that opened up into gathering rooms that were far larger than the individual ones, while all of it was designed to allow the Family free movement to the outside facade and onto the soft sands below. She appreciated that the Dwarves had constructed it all so quickly, and in a way that allowed the Family to live in a way that aligned more with Illy's goals. 

   She watched as both Dwarven and Goblin crews were stringing pipes and wires into the caves. Having spent more than a few times inside Ilgor's room, she watched as she had set up one half of it to be a study with a screen to separate them. She brought that human in to help her build bookshelves and a desk for her. Caleb, an odd eastern Fae-borne, but he was always kind to her. 

   They had finished the project in less than a day with his assistance. She kept it simple with very little in the way of adornment, quickly filling the entire place with books. Human history, lessons in modern medicine, arcane treatises, various religious texts, and a few that she was sure she had no way of obtaining legally. But when Illy returned each night, she locked the door and spent hours reading while ignoring the various people who tried to visit. 

   Vilorlith had been spotted on more than one occasion, but Illy didn't even try to talk to her these days. Which only made Vilorlith feel even worse about her choice to keep her in the dark about the map and holy book she had recovered. Flicking her eyes up at her with an angry glare, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her at all. Recently, she had been reading the texts that the Necromancer had given her. 

   While she practiced using that odd magic, she could tell it was letting her see the song better. At least, understanding where she drew her power from. In one event, she had done the same thing the Fae-borne witch had done by showing the Sparks inside her and Vilorlith. Ilgor stared down at herself as the power drew inward, while revealing itself to her.

   Watching her build her repertoire of knowledge made her wonder, however. Her abilities were beginning to reawaken, though her penchant for healing magic struck her as odd. Since Vilorlith had Tethered herself to Ilgor, many of the chains that had held her down had eroded away. Though that left a few questions in her mind, "Does Bhal know that his hold is being lessened? How much control does he actually have here? Was his punishment merely a means to an end? Does what she knows become his as well?"

   Speaking out loud, letting her voice be heard through the world, as the breeze danced through the halls of the caves, into Illy's own study. "Will he learn the truth if you know the lies?" She was inside Illy's study once more, as her eyes flicked up to the Ghost. But, she paid Vilorlith no mind; she supposed she deserved that for how quiet she had been lately. 

   Breathing slowly, she looked at the various things she had hung on her walls. A special hanger had been made for Kari's staff, though Illy had taken the feathers that were in Kari's hair and made them into a talisman to adorn the staff with. The same feathers that hung from ribbons in her own hair. She wondered where that had come from. Sifting through Illy's memories hadn't gotten her much; she was surprisingly well guarded. Vilorlith wasn't able to see much if Illy was even barely aware she was there. If she were fully aware, there was no hope of trying. 

   Flicking her eyes to the next thing were innumerable star charts, each one a stylized depiction. Though these were nowhere near as accurate as they should have been, she recognized the old ways. Seeing in them the thoughts and minds of those long before Illy and her time, from before this place, from before the trembling waters emerged her children's minds. Sighing, she should just be grateful that some of the things that were part of the Brownies survived at all. 

   Smiling as the memory swam over her once more. The Family sending the bodies of the dead out to sea, opening their eyes so that they may bear witness to the skies one final time before... snapping herself out of that thought. There were some things that they had never planned for, and by the time they became necessary, there wasn't time.

   The fact that they retained much of the Family structure also pleased her to no end. It was one of the things that she feared that Bhal would have tried to strip from them as well. Rythia spent centuries cultivating that mentality, long enough that it sank into their souls, into their Sparks. Closing her eyes, she smiled as she moved herself from the room to be perched on the outcrop of rock in the bay. The same rock that Ilgor and Ghet had shared a moment, as Kari listened to them. The same rock that she had first contacted the Necromancer directly. 

   Thinking of Rythia, she wondered where this idea of the Keystones came from. That ritual the Necromancer had been so interested in had the kibosh put on it, Ilgor had decided not to share that information with her after those two human Sages had broken their laws. But, even so, Vilorlith had no idea as to why the Children's souls were tied to the stones like so, or why they could be summoned again to speak to the living once more. Though she did have ideas. 

   The first thought that passed through her mind was that Rythia had created an approximation of an afterlife for the Brownies, a task that she herself had never accomplished, given her and the others' goals. A resting place, an end point for their immortal souls, a sleeping dream. That idea brought a smile to her face; her daughter had succeeded where she had failed. 

   Having seen the ritual herself, she knew that the souls needed to be similar to the one calling out. After Xelex had explained the infection aspect of the modern Children, it had, in fact, changed them. Their souls were not hers entirely anymore; Vilorlith's own soul was far closer to the first Children rather than the goblins. Despite their origin being hers, time had shifted things beyond her control. 

   Leaning back and setting her elbows on the rock to stare at the sky, she wondered how far back Ilgor could even call out. There would be a point where the souls would be too different from hers to work anymore. A thought came to her then, “Were they really so different?” If she could tether herself to Ilgor and still have that mutual benefit occur, then couldn't she call out to the first of them and potentially do the same thing? If Illy was as strong as Vilorlith thought, she might be able to do it, even if she needed some assistance.

   Pulling the map and book from her body, solidifying them from her own magic. Staring down at them, she worried that giving these to Ilgor might tip off Bhal. She still had no idea how the chains he placed on them worked, but given that Xelex was involved or at the very least interfering, it was a risk. Was his subjugation of her children an information-gathering effort, or was it something else? 

   Given that the stories that Ilgor had read from that book of hers, it seemed that Bhal had long ago abandoned them. But, she had no way of actually knowing that, yet. Of the other options available to her, Kyri might be able to assist, but that would involve a very long time away from Illy. The necromancer might also be able to help; she could sense no connection to the Shadows from her, well, none beyond what she was.

   It burned a hole in her mind as to how to approach this whole situation; she had no way of confirming what Xelex had said. Even if she could right now, she felt herself stagnate without drawing on Illy's power, but at the same time felt Illy grow much more powerful. Which only underscored her guilt at being a parasite to her. It would be a very long talk with Illy; eventually, getting her to not be angry at her would be a difficult task. 

   She understood that, to be sure, anyone would feel that way if someone who was beginning to show some trust in you only to suddenly stop talking. She didn't blame Illy, only lamented her inability to do anything about it for the moment. For everything Balance was worth, even during the war, he never lied. Cruel, but honest. 

   The more she watched the clouds slowly drift by her, her eyes following one of the large cargo ships out on the horizon, the more she thought. “Was it the goblin's magic that was poisonous, or just Ilgor's? Or was it the dependence on it that made it toxic? If it even was like Balance had said.” She wondered about taking some power from one of Illy's healers, just to test that claim. Sighing, putting the thought out of her mind. The more Tethers she made, the more likely it would be that she would be found by the Shadows. 

   Resolving herself to the situation, she would need to coax the answers somewhere. She wouldn't abandon Illy just because of the issues now. She would test what Ilgor's magic did to her one final time, paying close attention to it. Playing it safe would be best; if it truly fouled her own Spark, then she would need a different option. Though it broke her heart to think about keeping away from her champion for any real length of time. 

   "It wouldn't be permanent," She told herself, leaning back on the rock as the sun slowly reached the apex in the sky, warming her in the light. "I need to know where Rythia's body is." An idea sparking into life, the Sparks themselves. They tied the souls of their fallen to the stones. 

   "If her soul, her Spark, was distant enough to hers, then that would mean..." She let the thought hang there. "The Sparks were all designed to intermingle; her Spark isn't any different from my own. It's her soul that is different. Rythia, where are you?"

   Reaching into her chest again, she pulled the drop of her own blood out that Xelex had tossed at her. "What did they call them again? Archon Stones, wasn't it?" She asked herself, after eavesdropping on the Sages these last few months with the Necromancer, she came to her own conclusions about what they were talking about. 

   The stone sank into her skin without any conscious thought; it was her blood after all. Her breathing eased more, feeling her ribs fill out just a bit more. Her hips finally being more than bone, the flower in her hair opened once more. Sitting up, she gave herself a once-over, running her hands over herself, ending with feeling her tail. Smiling when she couldn't feel the vertebrae anymore, as the tuft of fur at the end looked much healthier. 

   Though she noted now, her chest was finally having some... definition... "Can't have the kids go on looking at me like this." She said to herself. Wondering if anyone in the fledgling city had anything that would actually fit her. For the time being, she didn't bother covering up since she looked like a corpse, but now she was feeling just a bit self-conscious about it since she was starting to look like a woman again.

   It was days later when Vilorlith sat perched on top of the cliffside next to Illy, not bothering to show herself to her. She didn't think she could handle that glare at herself again. They sat together in silence, not that there was anything to talk about, with Illy being ignorant that she was even there. But Illy smiled at nothing in particular, which made Vilorlith smile as well. 

   Only a few moments later, someone had called to her. Prompting her to get up and leave Vilorlith there by herself once more, which only made her mind wander to places she didn't want to go. The first of the unprompted memories was hearing Rythia's voice in Kyri's recording. Hearing that desperation in her voice, replaying it again in her mind. 

   "It might take years, but I will find you again. I will find all of you. If the others of the Quartet are the same as you, Kyln and Syn are still alive." She closed her eyes as the memory washed over her. "We should just be happy we are still alive. Though suffering and war are all we know, I can feel Bhal coming close. I'm sorry, I can't let him find this. Mother, I love yo..."

   It happened more these days, replaying like she was listening to it for the first time again and again. Running a hand through her hair, trying to maintain her composure. "If Syn and Kyln are like me..." Vilorlith said to herself. "They are more like me than you are like me, daughter."

   Thinking back to that interloper while she watched Ilgor try and call out to Rythia the first time and fail, she had a feeling that Syn was still around. Having thought about calling out to her directly on more than one occasion, but thinking that may not be wise. Despite wondering if Xelex would actually aid her, or if he was actually going to protect her from direct attack. At least she'd hope he might, but that might be too much to be hopeful for at this point. 

   Her voice had increased in power yet again after absorbing the stone. Calling out to her now would be like setting the forest ablaze to get the attention of a single person. Unwise, dangerous, and entirely unneeded. Perhaps she could use Kyri and Symphony to find that information. "If that was the case, with the monitoring stations still active, she would have told me. But that other piece of data..." She let the question linger as she thought. 

"He said his name was Gjorn. I wonder if it is the same Gjorn that is helping Illy and the Children? I just wish there was more than just his voice; it was a much younger voice than the one here." She thought to herself. 

   Ruffling her hair in frustration, her ears flapping wildly, wracking her brain to think up some way to confirm any of the information she had. Sending a proxy out to hunt for Syn would be fruitless. If she survived and was able to regain some amount of power, she would be well hidden from the Shadows. Hidden well enough that her attempting to send anyone out to find her would likely never turn up any information. 

   Lying on her back with a thump, trying to get her mind on more practical matters. "Was it her magic? Was it her soul? Was it something else that Xelex was speaking of?" She asked herself. Her testing of Ilgor's Spark showed her nothing; she saw no damage to her own mind, body, or soul. Yet she did feel that Ilgor was benefiting from the Tether still, while she wasn't. Vilorlith’s own power had grown still and plateaued while not actively drawing from Illy. 

   Still, having the sickness cured from her would be a boon that would rival finding one of her siblings. Figuring out a way to cure that infection from Illy would... "No, even when we were at the height of our power, we never found a cure." She thought to herself. 

   Looking around her, she could see it everywhere. The odd swirling of power in everything, the biological differences from the things they had originally made. The grass under her felt wrong, the wrong texture from the kind she had designed all those years ago. Functionally, they were different; they consumed the light and emitted oxygen, and the larger biomass around her used that oxygen as well. They were not like her, not like the children she had birthed into being; they no longer relied on their inner Sparks. 

   Mostly around her were the Fae-borne and the remains of her own children, yet there wasn't the endless genetic capability in the Fae-borne anymore. Inside her own, they no longer had the range of hearing and speech they once did; they no longer interchanged with the Song of this world and their physical selves. The longer she looked at them, the less she understood. 

   Closing her eyes, she put it out of her mind as she turned her attention back to Illy. "Maybe if... it would be a stretch." She thought, wondering if putting a plan like that together would actually work. "Rythia had a penchant for healing like she does. Maybe..." 

   She still had no way of knowing if calling out to Balance for assistance would be destructive or beneficial. She certainly wouldn't risk bringing him here if she didn't have a plan for all possibilities, either. Deciding not to call out to him would be better for now; besides, there was another plan she could try for at the moment. No matter how much of a long shot it might be. 

   Sitting back up, trying to ignore the mold and mushrooms that seemed to be rampant on this planet, she stared down at the Family walking along the beach below. "Trying to force a cure would need all four of us, and it would need our full might to change her back." She thought darkly, "Taneth's engineers would be needed, if not the Navigator himself." She shook her head, dispelling the thought. That option would kill her.

   "The legion would be able to contain her infection, push it deeper away from her Spark. It wouldn't be a cure, but a suppression." Compared to the situation now, that might be preferred. That option would cost her a great deal of autonomy, however. 

   She jumped a little, though held the illusion hiding around herself, as Illy sat back down in the spot she had been before. She flicked her eyes over to Vilorlith, despite the fact that Villy was damn sure she didn't let herself be seen. Leaning back as she rested on her elbows, Illy began humming a soft song. One Vilorlith had never heard before, but it reminded her of the old tunes that used to be sung, 

   The wind kicked up a little like a warm summer breeze, the grass visibly growing around the two women, several wild flowers sprouting and opening their petals wide before Illy stopped humming. Vilorlith stared at her. She didn't know that Illy could do that, didn't even know it was possible. That song was steeped in the same kind of song that was meant to heal, but it had a subtle timbre that she didn't recognize. 

   It was a darkness attenuating against the light in that song. Once again, Illy flicked her eyes to Vilorlith before remaining silent as she listened to the world around them. Making her feel like the leech she was, taking a small amount of power from Illy to continue her own healing process, heedless of the effects that may happen to her. 

   She wouldn't allow any harm to come to Illy; certainly wouldn't allow her to die in any attempt to cure her. That would mean exposing herself indefinitely now, as well as killing her closest true child now, as it were. She would rather deal with the infection before letting that happen. Anything would be better than letting that happen. 

   Sitting up, shifting herself with just a thought, finishing the rest of her motion in the chapel. Getting to her feet, she ran a hand over the alter dedicate to her ancient enemy. Seriously doubting Bhal and this perceived care about their spiritual well-being, thinking of how Wrath was during the war. One of the most powerful Shadows they had ever fought. Every one of his battles left a planet cracked or voided of all life, they usually took heavy losses themselves as well. 

   Picking her way through the graveyard of stones that built the chapel, thinking back to the lessons she gave her children. There had been some things that survived; the Family dynamic still existed for one. She had caught more than several dozen gazing skyward when night settled in, simply watching the stars move slowly overhead. Smiling, that they still found the beauty in it all, the skies she and the others sang into being. 

   Running a hand along the original column in the chapel, happy to know that their Sparks were all still intact as well. Overjoyed at hearing the strength in their voices, her voice. But, things did fade with time; they weren't entirely aware of the full potential yet. Ilgor was on her way. But even she was a far cry from the things her first daughter could do, all things with time. 

   Thinking of Rythia once more, she pondered the Keystones that made up the columns. "Surely she wouldn't have..." Vilorlith thought to herself. Already reasoning out that these oddities were her doing, they had no notion of an afterlife before. But, now? Overseeing what Illy had done for the dead before adding their keystones to the columns, she wondered. 

   "The oldest of them, fuck." She thought, "I know too many of these names." As tears welled up in her eyes, blinking them back while wiping them away on the old dress she had taken from one of the laundry lines. The thing hung on her, feeling like she was swimming in it. She had cut a slit for her tail, but otherwise she'd figured that with time she'd fill it out well once she had regained some mass. 

   Getting on her knees, she read the names of her own children, the ones she had given life to. Trying to keep her composure as she continued to dry her eyes, noting that this column wasn't entirely made of stones. The design was different; a dome in the center of it made it hollow.

   "Such a good girl, clever girl." She whispered with enough power to make herself visible to the Family in the chapel without meaning to. Understanding what she must do to get the answers to Ilgor, a sickness of the soul, was often cleansed with the wisdom of older minds. 

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.45. Gjorn

   Odeza sat in front of him, going over plans for what seemed like the thousandth time. The layout for a new citadel before them, one that centered around much older designs for the ones it was dedicated to. Old thrones, older songs, ancient people, the plan before them was for a species that the Elsewhere had once thought extinct. 

   It took months of digging through old databases to find the outlines, even longer still to find one and redesign it to be feasible for the lesser technologies that were available to them. Currently, they were in the middle of debating how best to accommodate more militarized formations. 

   Gjorn had opposed those outright, while Odeza was fervent on sticking to what worked best for the Legion. In the end, Gjorn had put an end to the discussion quickly enough, pointing out the obvious. The Brownies never had a formal military to begin with; a single one of them was enough to serve as an army by themselves. Vilorlith's champion was well on her way to awakening most of her abilities; it would only take time now that Azorez was teaching her much more. 

   Though the Dwarven King sat back heavily in the chair, linking his fingers together. Ilgor had been more than upset about the Sages; months later, she still refused to let them in the city, and it was beginning to make a bit of a political nightmare with everything else. The goblins' refusal to acknowledge the Sages was certainly putting some strain between Galus and Huron as Lucas continued to try to assert his rule over the annexed territory. King Aventus was none too pleased with his vassals failing to even begin what they were sent there for. 

   Shifting his mind to other topics while Odeza rambled on like background noise. He wondered if Mhuzchet would be preferable to stage their operations, or in Vhedinstal. Honor to strategy, practical versus gloating. Mhuzchet was purpose-built to be their staging grounds, ever since he had journeyed to the Elsewhere and returned, that was the plan. He didn't become the Branch Walker for no reason. 

   But the Goblin Village. He had to smile at the misnomer, as it were now, Village was not the right word any longer. He was delighted to hear that many of the goblin families were expecting in the wake of the prosperity the Dwarven Clans had brought to them. Though at this point, it was as much a Dwarven City as it was a Goblin one. Many new families were being made, and more than a few societal norms were being challenged among his own people as they intermingled more. 

   Still forcing his mind back to his original thoughts, though, by this time Odeza had finally noticed he wasn't listening at all. The Goblin Village was more historically significant, considering its location, another thing he had been keeping from Illy. The Village was merely not as defensible as Mhuzchet, but far more important in the eyes of his benefactors. 

   "The topside buildings are nearly complete, and the road system is only a month away from being completed. The caves below, save for the chapel, have all been finished for weeks now. Do you think Governor Ilgor is satisfied that her people have been brought modern conveniences? Clean water pipes, sewage systems, heat, light, and energy. Her people have been given the opportunities that the Rhojic have been able to supply. Her people are learning from the masters in nearly every trade under this cursed sun." He held up a hand to Odeza before continuing. 

"Her healers rival the medicine inside the College. She has taught them well in the time she has spent on them. Her inner council is trained by Halgier and me personally. Ghet will make a formidable political opponent in any circle. Knoll and Hob are commanders that I would kill to have. Cori is a force of nature to deal with. Do you think Ilgor is satisfied?" 

   Odeza was quiet for quite some time, thinking. Chewing on her answer before giving it. "No." She said flatly. "She has gotten what she promised her people when she became both Mother and Father. But, it wasn't by her hand, it was by ours. Have you been told that Vilorlith isn't exactly speaking to her currently?" 

   Lifting a brow, confusion evident on his face. "No, she hasn't told me that. How did you learn of it?"

   "The Necromancer has mentioned it more than once. The ears in the village have been keeping up with that." She responded.

   "You didn't think that was pertinent, why?" Gjorn asked darkly. Odeza smiled, but Gjorn cut her off before she could say anything. "You still don't trust me. Do you, Daughter of Anlyth."

   Her smirk died at that; refusing to use her name was an insult. Insisting that she was second to her father, that she was beneath anyone, was another thing to her Faerie mind. But, seeing the inevitable argument coming, he got up from his chair and bade her farewell as the door closed with a click.

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.53. Ilgor

   Ilgor sat in her office, thinking about the newest lesson Azorez had been teaching her. She had first noticed that Ilgor took to the magic like a natural, but had mentioned a few things. The first being that Ilgor didn't pull at the vital energies of death like the soul or mind, she pulled on the strings connecting them. Though with that in mind, she began noticing the connections in the same way in her healing magic. 

   To her mind, healing and death were two sides of the same coin. The things she was able to heal now astounded her, pulling sickness from blood, clearing cancers and growths, sicknesses of the mind. "If only I could have known this all for Kari." She thought to herself bitterly. Still, her healers had learned all the same lessons after she adapted the magic so they could actually use it. 

   Azorez had told her she was a bit of an anomaly in terms of her own power as well as the vast majority of the population. The way Illy used her magic was different; she drew from herself. She had shown Illy the same spell that exposed the Ghost, showing the souls inside still living bodies as well as the souls that lingered. The bright light inside her chest was far brighter than almost anything else Azorez had ever seen, the only notable exception was that of the Ghost herself. 

   With some excitement during her daily lessons with Gjorn, she had told him about that same encounter. When he asked if she could show him, his eyes grew wide when he saw her soul. He had called it a second sunrise compared to his own, which, for some reason, reminded her of a campfire that had grown into a forest fire. He asked if she could maintain the spell during their practice. 

   After the usual intense lessons, reflexively healing her own injuries as well as Gjorn's. He told her something that she wasn't expecting. "That isn't your soul, that is your Spark. They are similar, but not quite. I feel that the Grave Bell is mistaken in her thought process." 

   When she pressed him for more answers, she only received the usual run-around. Every questions expertly dodged with half-truths and further counter questions that made her question her own thought process. Leaning back in her chair, kicking her boots off, and unbuttoning her shirt, she let out a sigh of frustration.

   "Sure, we are learning more and more." She said to the empty room. "But, why do I need to deal with so many counterpoints to every lesson from those two?" Azorez had told her that instead of drawing from the energies around death to use the necromantic spell circles, Illy used her own life. Though she was thoroughly at a loss about why she was still standing after each attempt. Using the life inside oneself like that should not theoretically be possible. At least not according to the masters she herself had learned from. 

   Getting up from her chair, disrobing as she walked toward the tiled corner of her room where the water valves had been built in, as well as various drains to accommodate the bathing area that only a few rooms had private to themselves. Otherwise, there were communal bathing areas inside all of the caves. Her own room was one of the largest private quarters inside the caves, sectioned off in the ways she had asked for while the Dwarves worked on the city inside Vhedinstal. A city within a city, one that was exclusive for the Goblins, the outer city was for both Dwarves and Goblins. 

   The hot water was nice when it rained down on her. Letting her eyes drift across her room, this bathing area was sectioned off by itself with tiled walls and ornate glasswork that was frosted to allow in light from the rest of the room but allowed for privacy if anyone else was there. There was her study that serves as an academic, governmental, and a bit of an arcane workshop. Though she had insisted that she didn't need one, they had built her an area to entertain visitors. A lavish room that was screened off from the rest, as well as housed a comfortable array of couches, lounge chairs, and played host to a number of instruments she was teaching herself to play with some help from Gjorn. Her favorite so far had been a piano that she could harmonize her own voice to with surprising alacrity. 

   She heard a knock at her door, amplifying her own voice just slightly. She answered, "Come in, it's unlocked." She had no reason to fear anyone inside the city, for all intents and purposes, she was the very last thing anyone would want to try and harm. It wasn't her political power, or the place she held in the clan, but she was an inhumanly potent threat on her own. The visitor didn't answer, but she'd figure she'd find out soon enough. 

   The scent of her rose petal soap filled her nose, though her hearing was far better than any of the other Goblins, she could hear someone setting something down on her desk, and the sound of glass clinking together. Working the soap into her unbraided hair that flowed down her back until it touched the floor and then some, like a bizarre cloak. 

   The weight of it made her neck hurt with all the water, but she called out to the visitor in the room. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?" She asked with a pleasant smile in her voice. "But, do you mind grabbing a towel for me from the shelves over here? I forgot one." 

   "Halgier, your Grace. Certainly, one moment." A moment later, the small sliding door to the washroom opened as the steam left in a cloud. A cold breeze flowing into the lavish little room.

   Though she didn't hear the door close again. She laughed amiably. "Enjoying the show, Halgier?" She heard a chuckle as she turned her back to the door, her hair hiding the vast majority of her as she rinsed off. 

   "Your tattoos are healing nicely. I'll admit I'd be lying if that wasn't a pleasant sight." She could hear the smirk in his voice. 

   Turning the water off, she reached a hand out for the towel, which was handed to her quickly enough. "You can turn around. I don't intend on giving you the full monty." Her voice was laced with as much mirth as warning, as well. "Better yet, you voyeur, you can wait back in the study." 

   She heard him walk back out of the room as she began the long task of drying her hair. Pulling the air into the room with a soft hum and warming it, drying the rest of herself off with the warm breeze as she meticulously worked her way through her hair. “What did you bring?” She asked as she walked toward the door.

   "Something from our travels out into the kingdoms of the Northern Wastes. I thought you might like it." 

   As she stepped out, she caught him watching the door. Covering her chest with an arm, while the towel hid everything else. With a motion of her hand that told him to turn around and watch anything but her, she walked past him as he turned to ponder her collection of books. The smell of the soap and whatever the pine needle oil she used wafted by him. Behind the screen that separated her actual sleeping quarters and the rest of the room, she spoke again. 

   "I wasn't expecting you, let alone your antics. We haven't had many private conversations together." She said from her room. 

   "Well, as I said a few months ago, you've impressed me. Continued to do so with how you've been managing the courts, the trade now coming into the city, your military experience, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little interested in..." He let the question hang as he didn't know how to continue without making it sound better. 

   "You sound like you're trying to propose to me, try again." She said sweetly from her room. 

   "I want to be friends, not just political partners. You are interesting. I've been keeping my distance while you have been adjusting to everything, but things are settling down for the moment. I figured..." He said, taking a seat in the chair in front of her desk. 

   Her hair brushed his neck as she walked behind him and to her own chair behind the desk. Dressed in a loose shirt that may as well have been a dress for how low it hung on her, her hair only held up by a few ribbons. She looked comfortable. Picking the bottle up that he had set on it, she studied it for a moment before finishing his sentence. "That you'd come here, sneak a peek at me, and bribe me with good booze?" She said with a smile. 

   He returned her energy, though, "Well, when you put it that way. Why not, at the very least, you deserve the good booze." She uncorked the bottle while he spoke and poured each of them a glass. 

   "I don't know what 'mead' is. What is it?" She asked if she had been offended by his looking; she wasn't mentioning it. Then again, the goblins didn't have the same notions of modesty that his people did. But, he had known her long enough to tell if she was annoyed with him; they wouldn't be having this conversation at all. Feeling a certain sense of comfort that she felt secure enough around him to play that little game.

   "You would call it Honey Wine." He said as they raised their glasses to toast.