Chapter 18 A Lesson in Faith

***

And these Cathedral halls, now empty.

House the dreams of those long gone.

Smooth to your touch, countless steps made.

In an elder time, though timeless, you remain.

A fire in a hearth filled with ash, cold, and forgotten.

Till days break anew, these halls remain.

 

So please, father, Grant us yet another day…

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Harvest, D.99, Ilgor

     “Say that again?” I snapped back at the Chief. Stopping my healing of one of his raiders, he had a broken arm, and many cuts along his back. His leather armor cut clean through.

     “Don’t make me repeat myself, Ilgor.” He growled back at me. 

     “No,” Rising, I turned to face him, making my voice louder. “Tell ME again, tell everyone here you failed this raid, and brought back nothing but broken men, and empty carts!” My voice had more power than intended, and I accidentally knocked him down with it.

     The dust falling from the cave roof billowed out in choking clouds. My hands shaking with my annoyance and anger, “And you think you can just come back here, preaching that you pleased the Great Father by putting your raiders through hardship? You think you can preach the Fathers words to ME?!”

     He rose back to his feet, and steadied himself with his ax. His anger was evident in his face, “Ilgor, I think we should discuss this in private.” he snarled.

     “Absolutely not, I grow weary of how you and Mother always tried to discuss things away from us. Now you don’t want your shame to be witnessed by the Family?” I walked up to him and prodded him in the chest. It was like stabbing my finger at a sheet of iron. “I think not, The Great Father teaches us that our ambitions should be witnessed along with our failures. He tells us that a powerful leader will not shy away from them, for when he overcomes them later, his greatness will be made known tenfold!” 

     “So tell me, Chief. Why do you hide from our Lord’s words? Why do you bring me an entire raiding party in need of healing and kindness, and bring nothing back for your efforts?” I hissed at him, letting everyone in the cave hear me. 

     “The glory we won brought us his favor regardless. I…” 

     I cut him off, “Yes yes yes, our great and mighty Chief killed all the mercenaries single handedly after he led his brave and valiant raiders straight into an ambush. To top that off, in your fury you burned down the cargo they had with them because you what?” I hissed.

     “It wasn’t my fault that they had their lanterns filled with that much oil!” He was back tracking, trying to defend himself. I wouldn’t let him.

     “All that time you taught us to find with our heads. All that time you taught us to be aware of the situation around us, and you swing that behemoth of an ax around like a child given a stick. I am done with this conversation Yorm. Do not disturb the raiders, they need rest.” I told him, while I walked toward the cave mouth. 

     “Ilgor” I snapped my fingers and silenced him. The small sound amplified by the method the Sorcerer had taught me. He told me magic didn’t need to be wielded like a shovel full of dirt, that a small amount directed specifically can do much more. I watched him try and talk, but no sound left his mouth. 

     He turned a pale color, as he realized what I did. “I said do not disturb them, Father. They are finally asleep, I will be back later to heal them.” I sighed, walking back over to him. Gently putting my hand on his arm, “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. But, I am furious with you. I want to be away from you and the situation you caused.” I turned and walked back out of the cave. 

     I noticed Cori standing just behind a corner of rock jutting out from the cliff face. Her bandaged arm, still wet with the blood from the gash just beneath it. “Nearly made him shit himself you know?” She whispered, side eyeing the cave as she got up and walked with me. 

     I don’t remember if I said or did anything to her statement, but we walked in a comfortable silence for a while as we made our way up the shore toward the forest. “Would you mind if I joined you for your inevitable walk to Caleb’s little enclave?”

     “Am I really that obvious with where I’m going?” I said back to her, a small smile on my face.

     “You have been going to Caleb for months now whenever you are upset.” She nudged me with her shoulder but winced as she did it. “Damn, this still hurts.” She said under her breath, reflexively reaching over and putting her hand over the gash.

     Without stopping, I put my hand over her chest and healed her wound more. The family still wasn’t used to that, they never had Mother touch them while she healed everyone. But, her healing was much more ceremonious than truly effective. It ended up being a longer affair, taking weeks to heal this many. She winced as the magic did its work, stitching the skin back together and leaving only a faint scar.

     “Where did you even learn that? It’s so much faster than Mother’s chanting.” She asked, trying to shake the faint color from her cheeks while she absently scratched the scar. 

     “From a strange source” I told her, as she quickly removed the bandages and dropped them to the ground. “I still can’t do a lot at once, I can’t heal multiple things at once. But, a cut like yours, that didn’t hit bone? Not too difficult.” 

     We had reached the stream that now officially separated Caleb’s home from the clan’s territory. Stepping over the stones in the trickling bed, we scrambled up the rock face and into the clearing. “So did you learn the voice thing from this strange source too?” She asked me.

     “In a sense no, controlling it a bit better, yes.” I didn’t want to give her too much, I just had a feeling that the Sorcerer would know if I said too much about him. But, I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to teach the clan what he taught me. We needed it all too much.

     “Friends with Harpies, stunts in the city, befriending humans? My my my how my Mother goes against the grain.” She laughed, “The Chief just doesn’t know what to do with you and your attitude.”

     “I feel his sentiment is shared with many though.” I sighed.

     “Oh Illy, you need to spend more time with the family then. Far more of us are pleased at this changing wind.” She used that nickname again, she knew I wasn’t entirely fond of it. I side eyed her and saw that she was smirking. “In all seriousness, Chief needs to be put in his place like that more. He…”

     She stopped as we came into view of Caleb’s cart. Though cart wasn’t really a good term anymore. The fence that had surrounded it before was now more of a proper wall. The frame of a small home was now in the center. Ghet was trimming down a log that had been put on the center beam, Celeb instructing him on how to chisel in the joint. 

     Yvet and Hob were doing the same on another log that had yet to be placed in the frame. The scorch marks were still visible on the ends of the beams that were planted in the earth. The forge had also had a simple roof placed over it, the corner beams being held down like an absurd tent with tight cordage. 

     I walked up to Caleb and hugged him from behind, my arms never reaching around his frame completely. “Well if it isn’t my favorite girl!” He said, turning his head down at me. His smile reached his eyes.

     “How is Ilgor today?” He asked me. 

     “Well, she had quite the time lecturing the Chief.” Cori told him, deftly swinging herself up onto the frame with Ghet. “What can I help with?”

     A quick direction from Celeb had her carving out notches in the main beam for other supports to be fitted in later. “What can I do to help?” I asked.

     “Well, you can help me with the wall more.” He started walking over to another work bench next to his forge. He had made a few more tools, he plucked up a curved knife and handed it to me. He walked over to a pile of the logs that Hob and Yvet had helped him fell. 

     “Come, we need to debark these logs so that they can season better. The bark holds in the moisture in the wood.” He showed me how to run the knife under the bark so that it came off in great sheets. I asked him why he wanted to have them in sheets, but he only told me that it was more a tidiness issue. Less pieces to gather later. He liked to use them in the forge, they burned quickly and hot, it let him work a little faster when he needed a quick burst of heat.

     We worked for a while, each log not taking too much time. We were finished with the pile in about an hour, he showed me how not to get any splinters. It was the way you held the knife, not to lead with your palm too much, to let the blade do the work and not your wrist. 

     When we had finished, he lit the forge. Hooking a loop of metal around the log, we raised them to char the outside to discourage rot. We slowly moved the logs over the forge, the char biting deeply into the wood as the water steamed out the ends. “The Chief failed in a raid today, he brought back most of his raiding party in a bad way.” I told him. 

     He slowed his movement as I caught his attention. He didn’t like that we were still raiding, he was still very uncomfortable with that fact of our clan. “How many dead?” He asked quietly. 

     “None of ours” I said shamefully, my ears flattening against my head, I knew what question was coming next.

     “So many dead humans? I still say that your people need to change that habit of yours.” He turned away from me, to grab another log and repeat the process. “I am thankful for the help and protection your people provide, but…”

     “I know…” I said. I let a long period of time pass as I tried to gain the courage to ask the question I wanted to though. Log after log, we charred, prepared, and he gave my advice on how to dodge the hot embers.

     “Celeb…, I wanted to ask you though… Are you still a follower of Bhal? The Zybtine often worship him. You must have known what the things are that are demanded of us.” I said in a halting fashion, unsure of what word out of my mouth was going to offend him. 

     “I was, I am no longer. Your teachings from the little I’ve gathered, are far more literal than the ones I was taught in the homeland.” He said, his face lit with the fires of the forge. He didn’t take his eyes off them as we turned the log. 

     “What do you mean?” I asked, pressing just a little. 

     “Without getting a specific example, the one you did talk about. How we would one day stand by his side. You told me that he wishes to have you live as he would have you in life? Yes?”

     “Basically” I said quietly. 

     “You say he wishes us to struggle to live, so as to be great warriors in death. We view it more as overcoming the hardships of life, to become greater assets to him. Not necessarily to struggle and wage war, but more of a metaphor about not becoming an undesirable person. Someone who doesn’t live in squalor, someone who can crawl their way out, and overcome the ides of life. To live up to his ambition, is to overcome the trials of life.” He said, as he huffed another log into the loop of wire. 

     “He is our Great Sultan, to lead us to greatness. To overcome the hardships of life, to become more of an equal to him. We see that as the difference, you see it as a literal interpretation. Not to live as soldiers perpetually enduring the horrors of war to be warriors at his side.” He finished.

     I thought for a long time as I helped him char the logs. That wasn’t far off from what I had told Hob and Ghet in the city. That seemed to fit more with what Mother had in the Holy book. To live up to his ambition, his ambition was his holy mantra. 

     “Caleb, what is Bhal in your homeland? To us he is the Great Father to our family. He is tough on us because he wants us stronger, he wants to better us. He wants to see his children strong.” I grunted out as we hoofed a log over to the wall where a ditch had been dug for the logs to set upright.

     “See, that's the strange thing to me. I was never taught that he was a father at all. He was a conqueror, he led by example. He fights as he wishes us to fight, he lives as he wishes us to live. He was always the Great Sultan by which we respected life.” He began shoveling dirt into the ditch, and he pointed to a large wooden mallet to tamp the dirt down. “I do find it odd he has such an odd familial connection in your faith, there are a few other bastions that have Bhal as a main Deity in the pantheon. However, yours is the only one where he is seen as a family member.”

     I pounded away at the dirt he shoveled. “To be frankly honest, I think there is something else added to your faith that I don’t quite recognize. The only other gods I know that revere family to such a degree is the Trio. Do you know who they are?” He asked me, pausing to look in my direction.

     I nodded, “The Forgotten family, the Trio, the Lost Ones, they're all the same gods anyway.” I told him.

     “Yes, well, that facet aside, the other difference I can point out is that Bhal is, at least in our culture, the one pushing for the Caliphate. Our faith demands us to spread his ambition through conquest.” He paused to stretch his back, and with an emphasis he continued. “Now depending on which priest you ask in the homeland, that can mean a lot of things.” He dropped another log next to the other and began the process over. “Diplomatic, cultural, industry, or war. As long as we spread the glory of the Sultan, he will be pleased. Like I said, your people seem to take his words literally. May I ask you a question?” 

     “Of course.” I said between mallet blows.

     “How long have you been worshiping Bhal? I mean as a people, how long has your culture known Bhal?” He paused his dirtworks, waiting for me to answer.

     I thought for a moment, trying to remember back to what Mother had told me. I thought back to the old legends in the book, where the sky was broken. Where the rivers ran with fire, the clan was stronger, mythic in their power. When the rocks had no names, the trees had no names, the stars shown not. “I do not know. Since we were created, from what Mother has told me. But…” 

     “My culture has only known our god since the Hammer Strike. Before that we held holy a few other gods like Azu, or Koroth. Bhal only came to us after Mhuzelt was made the way it is. The reasons are unknown to us, though many of our priests claim he was the one who awoke from the Gnomes scheming and laid bare their nature. He then wandered the world as The Warrior from the West, and settled to lead our nation to greatness. He disappeared one day, and we saw him as a god after that.” He said, continuing with another log. 

     I told him about the legends from our book, he seemed surprised by the broken world I described. I told him about how he rose from the souls of the clan as our Father, and protected us from the calamity of our broken world. How he and another nameless god fixed the cracks in the sky, and made the stars. How he granted us the ability to live here, in constant battle with the darkness that came from all fronts. That we continued to fight the darkness and how our Chiefs and Priestesses fought endlessly to keep the family alive. 

     The other four had wandered over to listen as I spoke. Mother had never really talked much about the early days of our people. So even to them, a lot of this was news. “When the darkness had faded away, the sun shone bright in the sky, the rivers cleared. We were granted yet another day, and the day after that. For a time Bhal had blessed his priestess’ personally, trained the Chiefs himself. That he had walked with the family in physical form for a time. “

     “Mother had called this our Age of Teaching, and we had learned how Bhal wanted us to live. He told us to do so would let us walk with him forever, to endure all the battles of the world. When our family had grown strong, he left us. He gave the holy book for the Foremothers to teach from, he blessed them. He had taught his Chiefs to fight as mighty heroes, and that the world should submit to us and our greatness. That he wished to have his ambition known to the world.” 

     Caleb had stopped entirely, sitting and listening as I spoke. “The elder days of our people where we were strong. He had commanded us to live as we were taught, to live up to what he made us to be. When he left us, he granted the priestesses to give the blessing to a new priestess when the time came. He allowed only the strongest fighters to lead us. He told us to take what we were owed from the world. I think that changed over time to mean what we do now. But, that’s about all I know about how long we have worshiped Bhal.” I ended.

     Caleb and Ghet asked the same question almost instantly. “He had rose from our souls?” 

     Caleb glanced over to him, but Ghet had nodded in some unspoken agreement. Ghet had asked the question “So we came before Bhal?”

     The question caught me off guard, badly. “No, he made he… us to be what he wanted. He made us then…” The reasoning seemed flawed to me now, the way I said it at least made it seem like we were here before Bhal. But he was the Father, we came from him, so how? Unless he was unseen then? 

     “But that could mean a few things, theologically speaking. He made you, he molded you, he taught a student to be.” Celeb said with a raised hand. “This is what I speak of, taking things literally.”

     “Then why did he leave?” Yvet asked.

     “We were strong enough without him anymore, we could stand the battles of this world.” I stammered out.

     “Look at the family now though, we don’t win every raid. Look what the Chief did today, where is our greatness?” Hob asked, angry. “Like you said, we play with a wasps nest that is the city.”

     “Illy, we are far from strong, so where is Bhal now?” Cori asked as well.

     I sat down, not knowing how to answer. “I suppose telling you to have faith isn’t enough is it?”

     “No” Celeb answered for them, “Bhal left us as well, but we know he is still there. An example to follow, but he wants his divine spark of ambition to lift us to greatness. Your people seem to have only stopped at this endurance part. You seek battle and glory, but never rise to take more.”

     Cori and Ghet glanced at him with an odd look. He quickly added “I’m not saying to go and take this glory to expand your clan out like you have been. Perhaps you should start by changing tactics like your raiders have been doing, Ilgor.”

     “Besides that, Bhal in my culture isn't so hyper fixated on him being the core of our people. In the modern interpretation that the Zybtine and the previous one had, he is antithetical to the family. He wants strong warriors to lead the homeland to glory, he wants warriors with nothing to lose and only himself to fight for. The faith is losing some popularity now, he sees families as limiting factors, that man's greatness is made on his own.” Caleb added. “So this family aspect to your faith is odd to me, I know I’ve said it a few times now, but I can’t help but see it as such.” 

     I only sat there thinking to myself. Thinking back to the book Mother read from, trying to remember back to anything referencing Bhal before he rose from our souls. Mother had once spoken of how he was eternal. The everlasting, since the time the sky broke. Since the lands ran with fire, he watched over us. But, we suffered without his intervention. So was he always there, or did he only appear to us after we suffered?

     I snapped back to the conversation, only catching the last half of the question Ghet had asked. “...is it in your home?”

     “I do miss the domed cathedrals and sepulchers. Such structures to behold, many were spared in the war with the Federation. So we still enjoy our cultural beauty, the aqueducts coming from the western mountains still function as well. Though they are increasingly becoming less needed as the Sultan has ordered vast pipeworks to be installed in the city’s core.” He said with a wistful look on his face.

     “What are aqueducts?” Hob asked while he whittled away at a stick he had found. 

     “Great stone archways that bring water from the mountains snowmelt to our arid city.” Celeb answered.

     “How come you never mentioned being a worshiper of Bhal before now?” I asked, still trying to concentrate on the conversation. I kept thinking back to Mother’s stories, how some of them seemed to talk of something much older, before the breaking of the sky.

     “It is not something I advertise inside the Federation at all. Despite our two nations being at peace currently, many here do not appreciate our faith. As it was one of the main reasons the Caliphate had started the war for. Beyond that I am no longer a practitioner of Ayn’shel.” He said defensively.

     “Ayn’shel?” I asked, staring at my feet.

     “Funnily enough, it’s the name of another god. Though I’ve long forgotten who they were, our faith has a funny way of telling it.” He responded, standing back up and reaching for another log.

     “Why did you stop practicing?” I asked.

     “My wife, she was a merchant from Huron. She was a devout follower of Azu, she asked if I would convert so her family would accept me more. I did, and found more peace following the words of beauty more than of war.” He grunted, dropping the log in the ditch. Hob had joined him this time, hammering away at the dirt.

     Cori added, “What was your wife like?”

     “A kind woman, I remember back when she had a run in with a group of bandits on the road not long after we were married. Furious I intended to hunt them down, and end them. She had convinced me that it was pointless. They were not armed nor armored, they looked more like beggars all sharing a single knife. She had talked me into letting them stay with us until they were back on their feet. Best apprentices I ever had.” 

     “She always tried to see the good in people, even if they did her wrong. She had changed one with the warrior's heart to one of a craftsman. She was a waft of lilac on the wind, a cool breeze on a hot summer day. I…” He stopped talking, I knew that look on his face. He had always got that way when he didn’t want to speak of something anymore. It being his wife, it was understandable. 

     “She sounds…”Cori started, but I got her attention and gave her a look of “Drop it”.

     She looked back at me, whispering “Can you tell me about it later? Why is he so reserved about her?”.

     I nodded, and got up to head back to the Clan. When we had returned I went to the cave full of our injured. Many were resting, still sleeping. I walked past the Chief who had apparently taken my chastising to heart, and was guarding the cave himself. Not allowing anyone to disturb the family inside. I knelt down next to Mother who was wheezing again, her lungs filled with fluid. 

     She rarely woke now, only a few times a day to ask for water, though not much else. Her labored breathing interjected as I began to pray the words she had taught me. Still placing my hand over her heart, I recited the phrase. “Oh Great Father, in our time of unrest, Grant us yet another day.” 

     I continued this as I pushed the fluid out of her lungs, and her breathing eased. I tried to heal the scar tissue that had built up, seeing it in my mind. “To those of us that the wars have fought, to the glory and might. To the sadness of sight, Grant us yet another day.” These prayers…

     Her lungs refused to heal, I felt the sickness much deeper this time though. It wasn’t just her lungs, it had spread to many of her other organs as well. I directed the flow of magic to them, never having stopped the trickle I was sending into her heart. She smiled in her sleep as I eased away the growths around her throat and spine, they didn’t disappear though.

     “And such, we ask our Mighty Father to teach us. That we may survive this dark. To grant us yet another day.” …felt shallow. I pulled the residual magic away from her as the Sorcerer had told me to do, and was happy that she had fallen deeper into her slumber. Breathing easy, her old bones soothed, her pains washed away.

     I got up, and began again on the next raider. A young man, his hair still mottled in blood from the raid. Tora was his name, I remembered now. I washed his hair, cleaning the blood away from his face. He awoke at the cool rag touching his cheek, though he calmed when he saw me. “Mother, I am sorry I failed the family today.” He said with a somber tone, he winced as I removed the part of the clothing that had stuck to his wound. A deep leg cut, nearly severing his artery, only having missed it by a hair. 

     “And those of us that fall in battle, and those of us that survive. Bhal rewards us all, for we meet our Father, or we survive to earn him glory.” I absently told him, as he relaxed against the cave wall. Placing my hand over his heart I began. Why would the Father not care about which fate befell us? Is he sad to see us so young?

     I felt his leg stitch back together in my own. The Sorcerer had said that may happen as well, a sympathetic response as the magic connected us together for a moment. “For the fallen we remember.”

     He had finished the prayer for me as he watched in awe as his wound closed. “For those we yet still have, Grant us yet another day.” That reverence in his voice, it sounded different now. Don’t tell me they are directing this to me now? I wanted to sleep and be away from all this.

     I gave him some water from the jug beside him, and told him he needed to drink the whole thing before moving. He needed to make more blood before doing so. I got up and felt my legs become weak, though I only continued on to the next raider. A woman my age, her eyes bloodshot. She was barely breathing, she had quite a few broken ribs. I suspected she may have punctured one of her lungs, going off the bubbly sound in her throat. Her breathing, rapid, shallow, a quiet sucking sound. 

     I began again, lying her flat on her back. I opened her blood soaked shirt with a small knife, and kept pressure on her sternum, trying to adjust the broken ribs to be in place more. Also trying to pull the shirt off her skin without reopening any wounds. I noted the many scratches across her shoulders. “Odd, I didn’t see any blood on this part of her shirt though. Maybe one of the other raiders changed it for her? But, why? No one is in the condition to help her with that. Drop it Ilgor, it’s not important.” I thought to myself. The magic flowed into her, and the pain I felt in my chest was far too intense. I felt her ribs pop back into place as she grunted with each one. I felt her pain, literally. It only made me tired.

     Her eyes never left mine, trying to focus on something. I finally felt the rib that had punctured her lung pop back into place, and closed the internal wound. The sigh she let out, as the pain eased from her, made me ashamed that she had been waiting for me to come back while I was wasting time at Caleb’s home. “Through the hardships of life, we endure. For the Father to make us strong, Grant us yet another day.” I said as the blood was cleansed from her lung. I washed away the grime from her chest and shoulders, and wrapped her blanket around her. Handing her the jug besides the feather filled sack we used to sleep on, I gave her the same instructions. 

     “Mother,” Her soft voice called, “The Father didn’t make me strong to endure, you allowed me to endure.” Looking down at her, I was only reminded of the odd confusion I felt about my faith now. Maybe they saw me this way, instead of the Father.

     “And the Father blessed me with the ability to heal you.” I told her, getting up. My legs still weak, yet I still refused to let the family see me stumble. He would want me to endure this trial, to make me stronger for the next one.

     The next raider, an older man. Half his face bandaged up. He had apparently taken a hit to his head from the flat of an ax during the raid. His nose was broken, I didn’t want to see his eye, I just knew my stomach would turn if I did. He was asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. “Dreams, yet to be realized, Grant us yet another day.” It dawned on me that the prayers of dreams Mother had taught me, looked towards the future. The prayers of Bhal existed in the here and now. I wondered about that as I poured power into his heart.

     The magic worked quickly, his nose fixing itself. I felt tired, but continued, starting to feel the lack of rest behind my eyes. Directing it toward his eye, I felt it hydrate, reinflating. “Apparently his eye had burst” I thought to myself. Trying to disassociate with the injury, the Sorcerer had told me not to get lost in that sympathetic response, otherwise my own body would begin to think it was injured as well. I only felt sorry for him, the pain he would have had to be in this entire time. The exhaustion he would have had to feel to sleep through it, and my shame only deepened.

     I gently removed his bandage, and was annoyed to see that a spiderwebbed scar had formed around his eye. It reminded me far too much of Hob’s injury, I couldn’t look at him as I washed away the blood around it. I let him sleep, as he did not wake. An odd mix of pride and shame swam through my head, shame for Hob, pride at being able to heal him.

     Raider after raider, I healed. It was late into the night now, I had vaguely heard the Chief yell away a few others who tried to enter the cave. He had lit a fire in the alcove in the wall for me to see better, he had also huffed in a fire box to light another. He wouldn’t approach me though, he only listened as my prayers filled the rocky halls. 

     I was only dimly aware of the sky slowly turning in the mouth of the cave. Hour after hour passing by, I wouldn’t stop. Not until the family would survive, not until they could rest. Raider after raider, prayers a song on the wind. My hands ached, my back sore, my eyes heavy. My mind grew foggy over time as I got up and moved to the next member of my family. 

     “Touched by the fire in his heart, he granted us his ambition. He granted us the will to continue on, to endure. So please, Great Father, let this soul be granted yet another day!” I sobbed as my face streaked with tears. I pounded pulse after pulse into the raiders chest, it refused to rise. It refused to acknowledge the magic, his pulse gone, his breath gone. 

     Yet I still slammed spells into him, grabbing more and more power, trying to restart it. Ignoring the warnings in the back of my mind from the Sorcerer, trying to get his heart to beat again. Each spell I bathed his soul in, the magic audible in the air as a bassy hum. It shook the dust from the floor, from the crags in the ceiling. He had the same broken ribs as the young woman before, his nose broken, slashes all across his body. His wounds refused to close, his blood cold. A static filled my mind where sadness should be. “Why would you take us, why would you refuse to listen to your children? Why didn’t I triage anyone?” I sobbed out, my chest rattling with each word “Why would you abandon us, for the darkness to take us again? Why? Why would the Father have me fail? Why would he allow this soul to pass on in the prime of his life?” I whispered, so the Chief wouldn’t hear me. 

     The bags under my eyes, feeling as if someone had tied stones to my lids. I didn’t even flinch as I thought the raider’s head turned to face me, an angry look on his face. I blinked, and saw he was in the same position as before. The exhaustion permeated my body, my muscles were sore, my knees hurt, I wanted to sleep. To lie here and drift away.

     I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder, looking over them I stumbled backwards. The rotting corpse woman from my dream standing in front of me, her skeletal form barring over me. Her empty eye sockets poured into my soul. The icy tinge of fear gripping my mind, shaking my head, clearing my vision, the Chief stood where she stood. “Ilgor, you need to rest, it is nearly morning.” He told me, as the bags under his eyes looked like they were heavier than mine. His face was haggard, worry in his eyes.

     He knelt down to the dead raider, his knee crunching the frost cover grass that had grown around his body. I stared at it, wondering if I had caused the grass to grow in the cave floor. “Father, take care of his soul, as you did for him in life.” He said softly, closing the raiders eyes. “I am going to miss you, Gorah.” His statement felt too rehearsed to me, like he knew for hours. That prayer feels empty now.

     Turning back to me, he offered his hand. I took it, helping me rise to my feet. Unsteady on my legs, I tried to walk past him. “There are only a few more, their injuries are not severe, and they are asleep, Mother.” He said, “You need to sleep, I know you’ve been sneaking off at night to do something, but it can wait. You haven’t rested in nearly two days, Ilgor.”

     Turning away from him, “I don’t want to sleep unless I have to.”

     “Enough of this! Your nightmares be damned, Ilgor!” He blurted out, grabbing me by my shoulder “You need to sleep, or you are going to drop. I know you are angry with me lately, but I still care about your wellbeing, woman!” 

     I knew he was right, I had very few peaceful nights since the ceremony. I still awoke with the air cold around me, having no control over the magic. I still woke up screaming from the creatures I saw, I had to heal a few of the family's ears after apparently having caused a shockwave once. 

     My everything felt tired. I knew I was barely standing, steadied by Yorm’s hand on my shoulder. My mind clouded from exhaustion, my bones tired from the steady use. He had a point, feeling my eyes start to close on their own as I stood there. Shaking my head to open them again.

     I yelped as he scooped me up, and carried me out of the cave himself. “Was that necessary?” I asked him, giving him an admonishing look.

     “Bull headed child, you’d think you were one of my actual children. You wouldn’t have moved with anything else, you’d try and work yourself dead. So wipe away your tears, and realize you aren't going to be able to save everyone. I had to have this same talk with Mother as well, you know.” He said, his anger evaporating away slowly as he held me.

***

     “Eye’s of the lamb, mouth of the wolf, how that breeze billows across your vast and beautiful soul.” I watched as I sat beside her, a small smile on her face as I held back her nightmare. A dream of doubt, though I would prefer her to. I was happy to see her rest soundly, happier I could grant her this again. 

     Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell, dreams of happier memories. Memories I brought back for her, when she was a child. Wonderlust, curiosity and adventure in her mind, I watched the memories with her. Playing with the other children, not a care in the world. No thoughts of doubt, no thoughts of responsibility, no thoughts of consequence, to be innocent again.

     I smiled down at her, at the friends she had made. At the woman she had become, becoming. A being to be greater, a child of the original light. A child of sound. A child of…

     I felt her dreams turn, and I chased them away. I wanted nothing to disturb her rest, I only wanted to see her smile for me. “I see the light inside you, that you try to hide.” 

     I wrapped my tail around her, and felt her curl up around me. I smiled, feeling my eyes burn for the first time in many long eons. I wanted this child, touched by shadow, to be cleansed again. For her to be…

     “The stars will be your home, they will lean down to embrace you, oh sweet child. To return home once more.” The sky began to brighten on the horizon. I was still amazed at how Syn had been able to make such a beautiful show of the sky each morning as we traded places. I left a transparency to show the children the vastness of the world in which they lived, and Syn had chosen to show them beauty.

     “I am proud of you” I told her, as she mumbled in her sleep. She said my name, the name the children gave me. “To sing like our songs were just like prayers, my how I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

     I felt the breeze through my hair, and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin. “Sweet child touched by Shadow. A chosen choice, an identity yet known. The darkness never left, the war you fought was won. The darkness never left, and we failed. I should have…”

     I stopped yet another nightmare from plaguing her. A dream of THAT Shadow, the one who lies. The one who won. The one who made this me. I see that Shadow had only wanted to insult as well. By taking my children… 

     “Ah, sweet child, your mind is a storm.” I said, stopping the nightmare from returning.