Andira Tar'Monaghan the Mother of Winter's Promise, Elder Prophet of the Light

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Chapter 29

to be. Instead, she found herself adopting a curious half dryad half elf named Alauviel
and raising her with Azhelak. She found that when she accepted what life offered her,
she could be happy, self confident, and quite settled. Azhelak and Amaranthe had found
something to save in a damaged elf, and without their healing, Andira would not have had
the strength to go on.

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Chapter 28

After Amaranthe's task, Andira set out to find a conduit for all of the elemental and
celestial planes she might touch, determined to follow the example set by her Lady and
learn to cast without contaminating Thera. As usual, Andira accepted nothing less than
perfection from herself and became quite stressed trying to find just the right anchor.

The more she thought about it the more complicated she made it for herself, until one
day she woke and began following her regular routine. Find a comfortable place in
the wilds, preferably a crossroad. Draw her circles, bring an archon to her side,
bring an elemental made of earth. She'd worn a mantle of earth for centuries, so
that conduit and anchor was the simplest. But that very simplicity struck her.
What is nature, both metaphorical and concrete? Well, spiritually it was doing
what was right and natural. And with that, her decision was made. She'd shun all
of the elements but earth. Work only with that felt natural and right.

That also meant giving up on the bond with her angel. This was a more difficult
decision for her, but in the end it was the right one. As for an anchor, that was
simple as well. She would use the rift she'd built between Thera and the Azure Fields.

Reporting back to her Lady with these decisions, Andira was rewarded with warmth and
approval. Amaranthe pointed out that Earth is, after all, the Mother's element.
Amaranthe took Andira before each of the Three. First facing the Maiden, then the
Mother, and finally the Crone, where Amaranthe conjured the aspect of Shiedan, Andira's
dead husband. Andira faced him and felt nothing but acceptance. She finally let it
all go.

With that, Amaranthe marked Andira with her Silver Mandela and took her outside to
where the Raven guarded the entrance to the Temple of the Harvest Moon. Amaranthe
explained the story of her sister Poetry, who holds domain on the Dark Side of the Moon.
She told her of a hidden aspect, that of Spirit, embodied by the Raven which shepherds
souls to Poetry's domain after they have passed the watchful eye of the Crone.

She also told Andira that the time for fantasy and whimsy was over. And with that, her
link to the Sultan Djinn was severed and replaced with a link to a silver raven. The
raven held a dark countenance and was regarded as evil for what he represented. Andira
understood all too well. After all, she'd spent centuries hating and raging against the
loss that comes with death. She named the raven Poetry and they built an uneasy
relationship that caused a good deal of stress (understandably) to the Fortress.

This new Andira was much more accepting of that which fate brought her. She married
Azhelak, though only in spirit as Amaranthe disapproved of relationships that would
not bear children. She still wanted a child but slowly came to realize it wasn't meant

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Chapter 27

Finally, Andira braved asking Amaranthe to bless her with fertility.
Amaranthe informed her that the reason she'd likely been sterile was her
ties to conjuration, that because she gave life every time she broke the
barriers between the planes, all of her life aura was going into that,
leaving nothing for the natural order of things.

Amaranthe suggested Andira cease such conjurations and see what happens.
She also warned Andira strongly that if she cast any planar magic while
she held life within her that this life would die.

This left Andira understandably shocked and upset. Her duties as an
Acolyte require her able to protect, and in many situations, able to
fight. To refrain from magic during a lengthy period like this would
require her to let the light down. Duty has never weighed so heavily.

She has not made any decisions one way or the other yet. There is
much for her to do before she can even consider it. A planar anchor
to explore, an affinity with the elements to embrace. A cursed felar
to save. A fearsome war Goddess to come to terms with.

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Chapter 26

eyes, was not to abandon her research but instead to continue it. An open
breach between Thera and the Azure Fields, if stable and controlled
properly, would not leave any room for pollution or contamination. She
will now seek a conduit similar to the elemental one she wears, and she
has a good idea of which one to get.

Zhenyen suggested years ago she obtain a ring of light from the Dream
Plane to use as an anchor. It might be time to steel her resolve and
delve into that frightening place.

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Chapter 6

Andira is innately drawn to death. She cannot stop herself from trying to fathom
the weak spots between the planes and now all she can think of is breaking the
barriers down and defeating that which stole her beloved from her.

She feels that she lived the cycle of the Maiden but was shunned from the
phase of the Mother as her womb was kept empty and never filled when
Shiedan lived.

And so she finds herself before the Crone. She is not delusional, she knows
her path breaks the natural cycle. Yet, still, she hopes the Crone will
understand loss and what it drives you to do. And so she faces the altar of
death. Whether she will be broken upon it or not remains to be seen, but
she is unafraid.

Blessed be Amaranthe, who knows both love and loss.

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Chapter 5

The next six months were a haze of mourning for her. She slept
with his worn clothes, clutched the jaguar pendant to her heart,
gave up her charity work, and obsessed about his death. Illanthos'
last words echoed to her constantly, near to the point of driving
her to madness.

He waits in the Azure Fields.

One thing she knew - only the purest of souls, those who sacrificed
everything for the light, were given holy respite in the Azure Fields.
And if a simple housewife would not be worthy, she would never be
allowed there, would he would wait eternally. She would never
hold him again.

And that fate was unacceptable.

She sat upon her porch, wrapped in the blanket they used to make
love on, watching the sun sink in the sky. Everything turned hazy in
the throes of twilight, and she imagined the great divide between
the planes fading, thinning. She closed her eyes as darkness settled,
feeling as though his spirit was so close to her she could almost touch
him.

Yet nothing happened.

She would need to take matters into her own hands. In the long term,
she needed to be worthy of the Azure Fields. In the short, she truly role + believed the divide could be broken. That even though his soul had
moved from Thera to the Azure Fields, she could find him, touch him,
and love him again.

The next morning, she cleaned the cottage and packed a small bag.
She locked the door and enlisted in the conjurer's guild in Voralian
City. The teachers were in awe of her determination, her adept
wielding of planar magics, and her insatiable need to learn more of
planar circles, of that reach between Thera and the Azure Fields,
what comprised the divide and what she could do to break it.

After all, what was an angel or archon but a soul who had come from
the Azure Fields? She would summon until he found her. She knew
he was looking. Nothing was going to keep her from him. Death
would not stop her.

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Chapter 7

While wandering, Andira chanced to run into a rather nasty group of orcs. They
beat her and broke her body, destroying her so thoroughly that her soul was
ripped from her flesh. She felt herself on a journey that took her into the
shade of the Azure Fields.

And she was found wanting.

Placed back within flesh she knew she had work to do. She had always devoted
her time to charity, but now it was time to earn her place in the Azure Fields.

She believed fully and completely in her quest to break the boundaries between
Thera and the Azure Fields, but she was not completely assured of her success,
especially as she was met with doubts by the denizens of Thera as she explained
her plight and plan. And so, she dedicated herself to the Fortress. If she could
never pull Shiedan across the divide, she would need to be worthy to rest in
the Azure Fields and find him again that way.

So she pledged herself to become a Scribe. She would preserve the light and
offer her services and sacrifices to all the Maran. Anything to keep what
happened to Shiedan from happening to another woman's husband.

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Chapter 8

Hlofwi bid Andira meet him in the Lady Rayihn's Bathhouse. There, she
found (somewhat to her horror) a naked and shameless dwarf. Still, she
contained her shame and spoke with him, responding to his questions about
her path in life and telling him her entire story.

When she was finished explaining, she was quite caught off guard by his
response:
Hlofwi said: 'Yer gunna go to hell girl.'
He called her blasphemous. He told her she was being tested to see if
she worthy of Shiedan's love.
Above all, he told her she was doing something unnatural. That the Crone
would destroy her.

But she stuck to what she believed. And he turned away from her,
telling her he would have no part of her sin.

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Chapter 9

She stood at the entrance of the Seraphic Arcanum, her heart beating
too quickly, her hands shaking with nervous excitement. She made herself
pause, taking in the statues of angels and staring at each one, committing
their visages to memory.

She finally mustered the courage to approach Luandra Delandrosse.
"Teacher, I am ready."

Luandra looked at Andira with profound concern. "Is this truly wise, child?"

She nodded fervently. "I must do this. There is no other choice for me."
Luandra sighed and taught Andira the spell she'd been desperate for, the
one that would break the barrier between the planes and summon an
angel to her side.

And yet, Andira didn't cast it. The words burned themselves in her mind,
they sat on the tip of her tongue. But still she hesitated. What if she called
and her beloved did not come? A bit more frightening was the idea that
he would. Would she be able to reach him? Would he even know her?
He had vowed he would, but the true powers of death were unknown
to her.

Besides, she could not cast a thaumaturgic circle yet, and she worried
about being unable to sooth the break in the barriers with its power.

So she turned her attention to the Fortress, ready to yet again prove
herself as worthy to rest in the Azure Fields when death finally took her.
As she walked through the dried and cold streambed, she heard the clarion
call of the Watcher, crying out that the Empire besieged them. She
knew her duty, and she knew she could not do it on her own. And so she
went just outside of Voralian City, knelt in the grove of trees that she
and Shiedan had spent their first day and night together in as children,
and broke the barrier between Thera and the Azure Fields.

Light flashed, blinding her for a moment. As the aura dimmed, she raised
watering eyes to the visage before her. Glory incarnate, beauty beyond
belief. Wings outspread, surrounded by holy fire, the sight of this angel
literally took her breath away.

She steeled her resolve and stepped up to him, looking into his eyes....she
reached forward, only to be soundly rebuked, the hands that had dared
touch angelic feathers seared and sliced.

There was no recognition. No connection, nothing. This was not her beloved,
not her mate, not what she sought. Her heart broke and tears fell down her
cheeks. Despair began to set in - only to be interrupted again by the call of
the Watcher, screaming the transgressions and trespasses of the wicked.

Shaken from her pain, she took a step back and uttered the words that
would bind the angel to her side.

She would not give up, she would keep trying, keep hoping. But for now,
duty called. The longing and pain in her heart would have to be hidden,
would have to wait. The light needed her to be strong, to be a beacon.
And so she would be.

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Chapter 10

Far too focused on the work at hand, Andira nearly blundered straight into
the Lady Padwei as she charged through the Fortress. The sight of the goddess
before her made her speechless but Padwei's warm question made the
problem far worse.

"How is your spirit?"

Her heart pounded, she felt herself pale. The words that came to mind were
the last she could say. That she felt only half herself without Shiedan. That
she despaired every time she summoned from the Azure Fields and did not
know the being within her circle. That she had thrown herself into the work
of a Scribe to fill the void. That death haunted her, and without a word from
the Crone she felt more alone than ever.

And her biggest secret, the one that kept her awake at night with guilt.

She was devoted to her work primarily to make herself worthy to rest in the
Azure Fields.

And that more than anything made her think she was damned. Who commits
great acts of charity for selfish reasons?

She stared at Padwei and then..vomit. Genuine word vomit.

She babbled about how dedicated she was, devoted, fulfilled by her work.
Consumed. How wonderful it was. Every cliche of the light came out of her
mouth. Finally she made herself stop talking, blushing furiously.

The words were all true. But they did not answer Padwei's question. Still,
the gracious Lady did not judge, did not question. Instead, she smiled warmly
and granted Andira the mantle of an Acolyte.

To say she was shocked was an understatement, especially considering the guilt
in her soul. But Padwei's support made Andira realize her mission was all the
more important. A division between her need to break the barrier of death and
bring her beloved to her side, and the work of an Acolyte.

So she rededicated herself. Her mission to Shiedan seemed more doomed
every day but she refused to abandon it. Instead, she decided to allow herself
to be the Acolyte she was destined to be.

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Chapter 11

Shouts rang out, cries of pain and anger. She went in without
thinking. Defender, guardian, she didn't care what she was
labeled at that moment, all she knew was that she had to protect.
Blades cut her flesh, she was knocked brutally to the ground and
bruised. Her bones shattered, only to immediately be rebuilt by
the host she had called from the Azure Fields. She cursed. Got
back up. Blood, chaos, so much chaos she couldn't control in the
fray, she couldn't make sure everyone was safe. She raised her
shield and stepped forward again into the war. Pulled the wounds
of her allies to herself. Her stomach twisted and heaved as it
always did, she bled some more. Kept fighting even though she
wanted to cry, wanted to hide.

And then...a corpse. Not hers. Rarely hers. She might not know
the souls that answered her call from the Azure Fields, but no
matter what happened those untouchable beings kept her safe.

Nor was it the corpse of one of her allies. She breathed a sigh
of relief.

She knelt at the corpse, reaching forward to close its staring
eyes. Dragged the back of her hand over the tear on her cheek,
really only making the bloody mess worse. She bowed her head,
overwhelmed by exhaustion.

She now knew how Shiedan had felt. Far too often she would
boldly claim that the wicked were going to hell, but now she knew
that was wrong.

Hell was on the battlefield.

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Chapter 12

(Chiaroscuro - the use of deep variations in and subtle
gradations of light and shade, especially to enhance the
delineation of character and for general dramatic effect.)

Unsurprisingly, Andira finds herself at a crossroads. To her
left is a path filled with light and life. To the right lies
death and the darkness that shadows her. She has always had a
dual purpose and the more she lives the more divided she feels.

She is still driven by death, haunted by her lover and aching to
be with him in any way she can. That side of her is drawn to the
Crone, even as she knows she can truly be little more than a
sacrifice there. The continued silence wears upon her,
though she truly feels it is exactly what she deserves considering how
she has twisted the faith of the Harvest Moon. She dreams of
breaking the cycle of the seasons and putting them back to their
ideal order. In her heart she is bitter that she was denied the
season of the Mother. The Maiden's breath upon her brow was so
short, and now she kneels before the Crone, too young to feel so
alone and abandoned. She paces restlessly through Amaranthe's
shrine, gazing mournfully at the Maiden, jealously at the Mother,
never truly brave enough to cross their circles and ask to be
taken into either's arms. Instead she stands under the cold gaze
of the Crone, she who knows death and loss.

In those moments, she lets herself despair. And there is
silence, which is what she deserves.

Yet that is only half of Andira. The other half is a woman
building a life in the light. The Elder Prophet, shaky at first
but quickly growing into the role, gaining confidence and
strength every day.

And more and more the inspiration for this half is the Lady
Padwei. In Padwei, Andira sees an ideal. A vision of lightness
and joy glowing with life. Andira is drawn to her the way a
homeless and starving child sits outside the well-lit windows of
a new house, watching the happy family within enjoy a warm meal
together.

Often Andira will visit the shrine of Lady Padwei, hesitantly
skirting the edges of its crimson dunes. While the Crone's
shrine brings her determination and trepidation, the deserts and
calm pools of Padwei's domain bring peace and a rare respite.
When the war wears on her, it is to the Araile that she heads,
just to breathe in the rare feelings of peace and acceptance that
Padwei has so kindly offered freely.

And so Andira looks neither left nor right but rather walks
straight ahead. She holds her hands out to the sides, the
sunrise tattooed on her wrist representing warm life and the
sunset inked into her other arm held out to hold the cool
darkness.

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Chapter 13

Standing at a desolate crossroads, Andira pulls a well-worn piece of chalk from her backpack
and taps it lightly against her thigh, shaking the dust off but leaving a smear of iridescence on
her robe. She leans down and slowly begins to draw a thaumaturgical circle. Each stroke is
perfectly arced, no breaks mar her lines. She connects the circle and a harsh snap breaks
through the air as pure mana rises, ready to contain. Putting her hand through the magic, she
feels warmth and then coldness, yet none of it touches her. Feeling detached, she thinks for
a very long moment before carefully setting her chalk down and drawing the dagger Oshui
gave her.

Heartseeker.
A pretty thing, this blade. She holds it in one hand, the sharp edge against the rising sun
tattoo and then abruptly switches hands, drawing a precise incision through the sunset
gracing her other wrist.

She walks her circle again, mingling her blood with the chalk dust. The scent of magic rises ,
tinged with something darker. She hesitates, stumbling before she can close the circle again.
Brogok's words come back to her. "Lass, that's how undeath be made."

Dropping the dagger hastily, she clasps her hand over the wound, holding it shut. She turns
her back to the circle and utters the words that will break the barrier between Thera and the
Azure Planes. The veils thin and everything turns hazy, illuminated with an unreal glow. The
light washes over her from behind, and she feels the presence of an angel.

Her circle weakens immediately, the pulse of magic from the being behind her almost
palpable to behold as it attempts to break her circle and reach her. Turning, she sees glorious
feathers tinged with red, as though the blood she poured into the circle was absorbed by this
heavenly host. Across the barrier of a circle, looking into his eyes she feels something. A
recognition, a spark of what she once knew. His eyes are confused but she sees the love in
them, and he shakes the walls of her circle in desperation to reach her.

Reaching forward without thinking, unable to breath, unable to do anything but hope
as she steps closer.


As her toes touch the edge of her circle it breaks with a sharp clang of discordant magic.
The whoosh of it knocks her back, stealing her breath and freezing her with shock.
The angel, her beloved roars in pain and confusion and attacks her. Her flesh burns,
tears, and bleeds. Bones break. She tries desperately to hold him, whispering his name
over and over but her beats her again and again.

She stumbles back, trying to hold him off but he lights her with righteous fury. She
grabs him with broken hands and realizes this could be it. In death, maybe it would
all be over.

He hammers her side with a mighty hand and she feels her ribs splinter, one lodging
into her heart and with that her strength and resolve breaks. Unable to think, a breath

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Chapter 14

away from dying, she utters words of banishment.

The light blinds her and with it her husband is gone.

She whimpers with pain and collapses.

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Chapter 15

Andira's journal looks like a war veteran. It is huge, its worn leather
binding and covers stained, ripped, and creased. The pages are of high
quality and well cherished, but frequently paged through and showing
the effects of heavy use and time. Towards the beginning the pages
are filled with recipes, elaborate layouts of rose gardens and landscaping
plans, and drawings for furniture crafting and general interior design.
Bits of artwork are scattered within, usually depicting a sun rise or sun
set but every picture has a light-hearted, content tone to it. Decorating
the pages are rings of coffee mugs, dustings of flowers, and pressed
flowers from her garden.

In later years the journal takes a darker turn. Recipes are forgotten and
the brief words speak of mourning. Spells are written, each one designed
to probe the barriers between the planes. Andira's magical research and
experimentation grows as she designs new circles, ways to break the
divide, and spells of bonding and binding. The pages are smeared with
tears and blood and magnetic chalk dust.

Turning to the latest page, you see a beautiful picture of a rosebud
opening its leaves to a rising sun. The details are etched in gold and
softly shaded with pink.

Written along the bottom of the page, you see Andira's simple handwriting.


They say if you do not learn from it, history will repeat itself. The words
are simple, but the lesson is so hard to learn. They are a trial by fire, and
I've found the lesson is really only fully learned by painful experience.

Much to my shock, I've found myself falling in love again. To me, he is the
epitome of spring. Pure, vibrant life and a heat that I am drawn to as a moth
to the flame. A fresh chance to start over, a glimpse at a new life. An
opportunity to try again and this time embrace the seasons in their natural
order.

And he is even more untouchable than my dead husband. He belongs to
another and I am nothing but a shadow compared to her. What a fool
you are, Andira.

Again, Spring becomes Fall with no Summer in between.

Still, I am not going to let this stop me from progressing. There is a silver
lining. He showed me a new way of thinking and allowed me to open a
new chapter of life, one which I vow I will face with no regrets. I may not
be able to fully bask in his light, but that does not mean I will continue
to sit in darkness.

He has inspired me to close the door on Amaranthe and open it fully for
Padwei. He opened my eyes to the things out there that believe in me
and accept me. I was always waiting for judgment from the Crone, and I
think that might be the very reason she was silent. I don't need to be
judged.

Do I feel shameful changing my allegiances like that? Yes. No one likes
someone who has weak conviction. But there is something called fate,
and it has drawn me to Padwei from the first moment I spoke to her, so

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Chapter 16

many years ago. I consider this evolving and growing more than any
weakness.

Plans go awry but this one I cannot see darkness within.

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Chapter 17

One of Andira's greatest personal flaws is the way she isolates herself
while giving everything she can to everyone else. She accepts little in
return and asks for nothing. The downside to that is a perpetual loneliness
that plagues her constantly. Padwei's gentle presence reminded her that
she is not alone, but in the same conversation she suggested she cares
too much about everything and everyone. The conflict is not lost on Andira.

Andira did not want to reach out for comfort from someone she didn't
love but still had emotional ties to. Still, she ached to be embraced and
loved, no matter how briefly. And so she came up with the idea of
visiting the pleasure house in Hamsah Mu'tazz, just for a night to be held
and comforted with no strings attached or repercussions.

She was wrong about the latter part of that. Oshui hated the idea, and
by way of that, he hated Andira for her weakness.

Still, she did not live her life by what Oshui dictated. And so that night,
she veiled herself in black mesh and walked into a boudoir of decadence.
Unwrapping the material that hid her face and hair, she was confronted
immediately by the shocked Madam of the House.

"Prophet?" she whispered in disbelief.

Andira nodded and the woman lit up with joy, much to Andira's
surprise. "My lady, the girls will be so happy to see you. The Prophet of
Light come to bless us. This is an honor they've never imagined, and my
do they need it." And with that she pulled Andira to the main parlor of
the boudoir and sat her on a large couch. She ran through the house,
breaking up every coupling and ushering all the men outside. She closed
the entire saloon for business the entire night.

And with that, Andira found herself surrounded by a large group of
awe-struck prostitutes. Her heart melted at the loss and need on the
face of each girl. Toughness mingled with beauty and fragility. Some
of the women wore bruises on their bodies, but so many more wore
them so plainly on their souls. So much for Andira's moment of
detached pleasure.

And that was how Andira spent her night in a whorehouse. She held
their hands, listened to their stories, offered the words of support and
love that came naturally to her. They did touch her, but not in the way
she'd expected. They hugged her or reached out just to lay a hand on
her, patting her with reverence and finding benediction in the touch.
They brushed her hair and braided it as if they were sisters. The girls
sat as close to her as they could, treating her like a glowing beacon in
the darkness. She was truly humbled at how much each girl looked up
to her, and how openly they accepted her.

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Chapter 18

One girl in particular tugged at Andira's heart. She was pregnant and
obviously very close to term. A human, and no older than sixteen, she
sat at Andira's feet and leaned against her leg. No matter of requesting
from Andira would get her to sit up on the couch in her place. Finally,
Andira came down to the floor to sit beside her.

A twang of jealousy worked its way through her, only to be quickly
replaced by a need to protect this exhausted waif. Andira gazed over
the girl's head to the Madam, who only nodded, eyes warm with
appreciation.

"Have you ever seen Voralian City?" Andira asked. The girl shook her
head. No, of course not. Money was tight and the life of a whore did
not allow for adventures to far off lands.

"Would you like to? My parents live there. They're good people. They
have a big house and they always wanted grandchildren. You could stay
with them as long as you wished to."

Stunned silence descended on the entire room. The girl started to weep,
overwhelmed. Andira held her, shushing her while the other girls packed
a bag for her to travel with.

Mid morning and right before leaving, Andira tried to give the Madam
money for the loss of a night's profits. The Madam held the money in
her hand for a long moment before gently putting it back in Andira's
hands. "I can't put a price on a night like this," she said quietly.
Understanding, Andira put her purse away.
Casting a quick spell to bring both her and the pregnant girl home to
Voralia, Andira delivered the girl to her childhood home. Her parents
were delighted to take the waif in, her father immediately making plans
to build a crib and her mother sitting the girl at the table and presenting
her with more food than the poor thing had likely seen in a month.

Andira quickly withdrew, heading to her quiet room in the Fortress.
She had a lot to think about, but one thing she knew.

She had a lot more whorehouses to visit.

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Chapter 19

Years ago, when Andira finally picked herself off the ground, shed
her black dress of mourning, and joined the Fortress and the Guild of
Conjuration, she closed up her home and locked its doors. Her
beautiful rose gardens were covered and left to weed, dust settled
on the floors, and white sheets were painstakingly placed on all the
furniture.

And she did not return home for nearly two hundred years.

After her disastrous experiment summoning her dead husband to the
lonely crossroads, she had an idea that bringing him to a more familiar
place might yield better results. So she went to her ghostly, dead house,
her feet leaving tracks through the dust, and found herself sitting on
her back porch looking at her overgrown backyard.

She found her garden shears in short order and quickly tamed the
overgrowth. She meticulously cut a circle, using the shears to slice
her inner arms and drip a trail of blood along the path. Satisfied with
her work, she stood outside her circle and closed it with every
ounce of energy she could muster. A sharp crack echoed through
the neighborhood, scattering the birds and rippling the sheets and
clothing hanging on their lines to dry. The scent of ozone wafted
through the air.

Andira rested the next few hours, studying her circle for any flaw
and finding it perfect. Impenetrable. As twilight descended, she
stood on her back porch and sent her magic through the blurry
barriers, pulling from the Azure Fields with all her longing and
need to see her beloved again.

He came with a tang of magic that tasted like fresh blood on her
tongue. As always, he threw himself mindlessly against her circle
with rage and confusion. This time, it held firm. He paced its
parameters, his glowing eyes fixed on her.

She started talking. Words just poured out of her, and she found
herself telling him everything that had happened since he died.
Illanthos, mourning, the guild, the Fortress. Amaranthe and
Padwei. The honor of an Acolyte's robes. The unbelievable gift
of Elder Prophet. Oshui and Filndar, though she was careful of
how she explained her complex relationships with those two.
She talked about the fights she had been in, how sometimes she
felt Shiedan's influence pushing her to make decisions that might
seem more like a Maran than an Acolyte. She poured her heart
out about love and loneliness and how incredibly much she missed
him. She said everything and anything to try and get her husband
to stop looking at her with mindless rage, as though she were a
stranger and an enemy.

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Chapter 20

Beneath the silent night, its stars illuminating her utterly domestic
neighborhood and shining on the odd sight of a woman communing
with the angelic visage of her dead husband, life became very
surreal for Andira. Her words seemed to have little affect.
Occasionally he would stop pacing, his movements calming, only to
be suddenly fueled again by an unseen force of anger.

Her circle held until dawn when the sun's rays broke the soft illumination
of the stars. It shattered in a whoosh of discordant magic. Free, Shiedan
drove straight to her, knocking her into the porch with enough force
to shatter the wood. He held her, but so tightly and violently that she
couldn't breathe. Her ribs cracked and her vision went fuzzy. A pool
of blood immediately soaked the broken floorboards.

With the last bit of breath she whispered words of dismissal and sent
him back to the Azure Fields.

Neighbors drew their curtains tight and locked their doors, leaving
Andira even more isolated than before.

She healed, as she always did. And every week after that, she came
home, cleaned up a small piece of the house, and summoned her
husband. The results were very nearly always the same, but Andira
kept experimenting with the magic. Place a familiar item in the circle.
Place herself in the circle. Read to him. Spray her perfume in the air,
wear an outfit he had particularly liked. She tried magical alternatives
too, pushing harder and harder to break the barriers between her
back yard and the Azure Fields.

And one day, she felt the barrier weaken. A leak, no bigger than a
pinhole, but when she cast her magic into the void she could feel it.
It was unstable and so very thin, but it gave her hope.

Role

Chapter 21

Andira sat on the steps of her back porch, watching the angelic aspect of her
dead husband pace the confines of his thaumaturgic circle. The edges of it
squished with an unwholesome sound as he paced near them, dirt and blood
forming a paste mingled with magnetic chalk. The ground was so saturated
by the years of blood she'd shed into it that it now resembled Padwei's
crimson deserts.

She was struck with melancholy, this scene having replayed itself out so
many times. The neighbors she'd once been so close to had moved away,
terrified by her research and the awful power she'd brought to the once
silent streets of Silverpine Road. The foundations of her house had come
loose, the floorboards splintered and broken and the walls dented from
all the times her husband's ghost had come free of the magic and tried to
kill her.

She tapped her foot on the broken floorboard, letting her mind wander to
the rift beneath it, the ever so weak and tiny break between Thera and the
Azure Fields. Oshui had pointed out the consequences of this kind of
research. A door goes both ways. Zhenyen had spoken of anchors, and the
next phase of her research would see about securing the door to be only
one way. The glory of the Azure Fields should flood Thera, not the other
way around.

But the next step in research was one thing. Her life was another.
Amaranthe had strongly warned her against crossing the Crone again,
and that weighed heavily on Andira.

"I think it's time to let you go, my love," she whispered to the angel.
He howled with rage, throwing himself at her circle. It shook, but held
as she expected.

"I'm sorry. It's become a choice between life and death. I choose
life, as messy as it is."

She wiped a tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. "Goodbye,
Shiedan. I will always love you, and if we're meant to be in the Azure
Fields, then that is where I will find you if I haven't damned myself for
eternity."

The angel went insane, clawing at her circle as she whispered the words
to dismiss him to the Azure Fields for the last time.

Role

Chapter 22

Having made the monumentous decision to let Shiedan go once and
for all, Andira turned her focus to life and the rift she had made between
Thera and the Azure Fields.

And yet she couldn't stop going back to the other thing that had always
burned her as much as the loss of Shiedan: the fact that she'd never been
able to bear him a child.

Well, the acceptance of life over death meant nothing had ended for her
yet and it was possible it wasn't too late to experience the Season of the
Mother.

That brought her back to Amaranthe. Her kindness, her firm stance,
everything about her felt right to Andira. She'd spent centuries trying to fit
herself to Padwei's model and failing, and it was strange and wonderful
that when she'd finally felt herself under Amaranthe's gaze, everything
clicked.

Because of this, Andira dared to hope that Amaranthe might bless her if
she asked for a boon of fertility. There would be a price, of that Andira
was certain, but she wasn't afraid of sacrifice or payment.

And this led her back to the rift. If she was actually able to bear a child, if
she could conceive it and bear it within the rift, it was possible that the
essence of the Azure Fields might attach itself to that child. That the light
of heaven could shine in life on Thera, and that goodness could be more
than a proverbial beacon in the night. Magic could be wrought with life
and light in mind, everything tied together in a true symbol of the light.

She blurted out her plan to Oshui in the most ungraceful of manners, asking
him awkwardly to help. There really wasn't anyone else she'd want to
share this experience with, but if he turned her down she was determined
to open her heart to someone else.

So that was where her plan laid. She would seek Amaranthe again,
beg for the blessing of fertility. And she would wait for Oshui's answer
before making any further decisions. In the meantime, she planned to
nurture the rift of magic, guarding it from instability and anchoring it
properly to keep any of the darkness of Thera from breaching the
Azure Fields.

Role

Chapter 23

Having closed the door on the darker chapter of her life and looked to a
brighter future, Andira found herself filled with hope and able to take
more time to appreciate simple joys in life. It was one of these mornings
where she was sitting on the ledge of the Fortress watching the snow fall
when a voice she didn't know called out to her.

He told her his spirit was troubled, asked if she would help him. Never
one to turn down a request for help, Andira asked where to meet this
troubled soul.

His answer was, of course, the Jungle Ruin. Andira went there swiftly,
but stood at the entrance, hesitant. Inferiority threatened her resolve.
She'd let go of much of her anger towards Baerinika, but there was still
a yearning ache when she thought of everything the Goddess had that
Andira did not.

Still, a cry for help was just that. Something Andira would not let
any of her personal issues stop her from resolving. And so she stepped
into the Jungle Ruin and met Azhelak.

The deformed felar was misshapen and haunted by his curse. Driven to
take blood, he had accidentally taken the life of an elf. He did not
know what to do, and Andira could clearly see the pain on his soul.

She spoke at length of forgiveness, that the elf would never have
faulted him for his mistake. Of ways to temper his curse, of
understanding the light and taking measures to strengthen it, even if
you've made mistakes to weaken it. They talked at length and when Azhelak
mentioned Auldr's anger over their discussion, Andira realized she sat
with an Outlander.

Azhelak told her he did not mind her craft, that he felt he had no place
to judge her for what she felt was right. That was a revelation of itself
to Andira, it felt strange that this felar would look up to her and think
she was right to do something simply because of who she was.

In the days after that, Andira kept a close eye on Azhelak. She knew the
damage dark magic could do to a soul, but she also knew full well how
guilt and rage can break down basic goodness. She continued to seek him
out, share with him the joys of life and light. Offered him open
friendship and complete acceptance. Spoke freely and from the heart of
her love for sunsets and lightning storms. Told him of the burdens that
lay on her soul, thinking that if he knew he was not alone in feeling
cursed at times that he would be able to bear it better.

Role

Chapter 24

In return she was shocked to see Azhelak fixate on her with utter loyalty
and devotion. He named himself her guardian and protector, followed her
nearly everywhere, and spoke freely that he was at conflict with Auldr
about her.

As he grew stronger in his conviction and began to overcome his curse, he
fixated on returning to Andira what she had given to him: healing. This
rather discomfited Andira, since she believes at her core that she does
not deserve any kindness or caring when it can be given to and help someone
else.

This felar was stubborn, however, and refused to let Andira brush aside
This felar was stubborn, however, and refused to let Andira brush aside
his attempts to care for her, and as the two got closer and closer, she
found her heart warming to him. After a long talk on the virtue of
courage, Andira and Azhelak worked up to confessing their feelings for
each other. Rather tumultuously and with no small leap of faith, Andira
decided she would try and love again. The only hesitation she has is
knowing that Azhelak worships Baerinika, and an incessant fear that he
will, as all the others have before him, choose the Goddess over the
mortal.

Since then, she spends many of her days with Oshui, cooking for him,
serving him tea, caring about him, and indulging in long, usually
flirtatious conversations. Her nights are always with Azhelak, curled
up in equal portions either in her home or somewhere outside. She is
driven to please, and focuses on finding beauty in the wilds so that
she can share his life as much as he's accepted hers.

The odd thing is, this completely derails her plan. Oshui would be
willing to help her have a child if Baerinika granted permission,
something Andira does not think she will ever muster up the courage to
ask for. Azhelak, on the other hand, is an ideal mate for her. Warm,
loving, kind, and so very attentive to her needs. But he is a felar,
and one who bears a curse in his blood that he refuses to pass on to
the next generation.

Role

Chapter 25

While still unsure if she would throw herself on Baerinika's dubious mercy,
ask a friend to impregnate her, find a random stranger, or see what the
realm would make of half-felar-half-elf cursed celestial babies, she still
yearned to have Amaranthe bless her with the gift of fertility.

She knelt humbly outside the Mother's shrine and prayed to feel her cool
touch upon her brow. Amaranthe answered her call, and the long
conversation that ensued left Andira's head spinning and heart aching.

Amaranthe dislikes conjuration magic. That much Andira knew, but she
thought that the Harvest Goddess would be willing to overlook her magic
just as Azhelak did.

In hindsight, she realizes how very naive she was to think that.

Amaranthe lectured her at length about the dangerous magic she wielded,
how irresponsible she had been with her plans to damage the distance
between the planes, and in general reminded Andira what a mess she truly
was. The Goddess said everything with a gentle tone, and Andira did feel
loved at her, but more like a naughty child who needed to be set in a
corner for the night without dinner.

Andira asked what was needed to turn their relationship to more of
acceptance, and Amaranthe spoke on the Coven, of mystics and witches, and
how again dangerous conjuration was. She had never accepted a conjurer
into the Coven, and if Andira was to join she would have to change her
lifestyle as well as her way of both thinking and casting.

The first requirement was simple to Andira, and truthfully something she
already did. Amaranthe said to ground yourself with the elements when you
draw with them. Foster a minimum of pollution with the environment when
you work it with magic. Adorn yourself with items that could be a conduit
so that you could be as much a part of the element you work with as
possible.

Andira favors working with the earth over any other element. She has
always gone out of her way to conjure within the wilds, as close to the
raw element as possible. She bears a mantle of earth around her neck and
will start working her magic while holding it, keeping her eyes alert for
potential contamination or anger from Thar-Eris.

The second spoke of Andira's divide of the barriers between Thera and the
Azure Fields. This one rang particularly in Andira's heart based on all
of her research and all of the magic she has wrought to bring the two
together. Amaranthe cautioned against conjuring angels because of the
aura of destruction that follows them. Archons, however, as healing
forces were more acceptable but still, Andira needed to find a way to work
her magic in a manner that could not damage Thera.

The solution, to Andira and very possibly the wrong one in Amaranthe's

Role

Chapter 4

One brisk fall evening, Shiedan did not come home. It
happened occasionally that his crusades would take him too far
away from her, and so Andira cleaned the house, slept alone,
and woke up before the dawn. She brewed a brisk pot of tea
and sat on her porch to watch the divide between the planes
break from dark to light and wait for her beloved to come
home to her.

And she waited.

Just before the sun's journey broke the first rays of dawn, she
saw a figure approaching slowly, but she could tell right away it
was not that of her husband. Instead, it was a venerable elf
dressed in the robes of an Acolyte. He paused at the end of her
walkway, lines of exhaustion and age creasing his face.
"Lady Tar'Monaghan?" he queried.
Her heart sank just as the break of dawn flooded her.
"I am Illanthos," he said, and continued gently: "And I bring the
final words of your husband, my child." He walked up to her, taking
her hands in his. "He bids you wait for him, as soul mates cannot be
separated, and your love eternal. When you cross the divide, he
will find you." He pressed a simply wrought pin into her palm, that
of a black jaguar with polished white stones for eyes. "Take comfort,
my child, for he rests in the Azure Fields as he waits for you." And
he turned and slowly walked away.

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Role

Chapter 1

A young elven girl sat on the docks of Voralian City at dusk, the light river's breeze
freeing strands of her tightly plaited pigtails. Crickets chirped, stars began to sparkle
as the sun's rays faded, and every once in a while a fish would dart up to nip at the
child's bare toes as they dangled in the water. She stared out over the waves,
thinking thoughts far beyond what every other average elf who had just celebrated
their seventieth birthday would think. A swarm of fireflies streaked past her
vision as she squinted into the sunset, thinking that at the exact moment the
sun disappeared from the world, she could see the beyond, see between the
planes, and catch sight of the moment the lines between the worlds blurred.
That she just might see something beyond...

"Fear not, fair maiden! I shall save you from these nefarious insects who
dare cross your path!" a young voice called out, startling her from her
thoughts. She turned in surprise, seeing a grinning figure holding aloft
a grasshopper cage and a dull wooden sword. Finding himself the center
of her attention, he crowed "Stand back, Lady! I am a knight of the Holy
Brigade and I will lay down my life to protect you from these heathen
crickets!"

She smiled, completely charmed. "My knight and my saviour, I am
beyond honored that would keep me from harm." She rose and crossed
to him, weighing the number of grasshoppers he had caged. "But these
beasts are not our enemy, kind sir. Let us free them, so they may find
peace away from the battlefield."

The elven boy, no older than she was, considered for a moment. "Very
well, fair maiden, I will lay down my sword, a sword wrested bravely
from the evil clutches of the Azreth Forest, and I will spare these
savages. But only in exchange for a favor from the most beautiful of
ladies in all of Thera. For a knight needs his lady to be true."

She thought for a minute before untying one of the ribbons from
her braids. "A token of my love, then, sir knight." And she tied the
ribbon around the haft of his sword and freed the grasshoppers.

"I am Sir Shiedan Tar'Monaghan, fairest of all ladies. Might I be
granted the honor your name and your hand?"

"I am Andira," she said, and then thought for a moment. "Lady
Andira, if you will, sir." And she placed her arm in his. He escorted
her from the docks down Silverpine Road, to a grove of trees. They
continued the knight and fair lady game for a bit but quickly found
out that they enjoyed each others real company far more than the
game. The two children found themselves falling deeply in childlike
love, settled beneath a tree, holding hands and looking up at the
stars as they talked for hours.

Role

Chapter 2

Shiedan told her of his dream of being a Maran. She confessed to
him her strange draw towards the outer planes, her dream that twilight
and dawn broke the barriers. She trusted him with her innermost
thoughts of death and magic. He understood and accepted in the way
only children who find kinship can. "If I were beyond the barriers
between here and there, my lady, I would still find you," he vowed.
"Neither twilight nor dawn shall keep us apart," she promised in
return.

"When we grow up, I will take your hand in marriage. I will go out
and fight for the light every day, and you will be my lady," he swore
earnestly, in a simple way that only a child truly can.

"And I will love only you, my brave knight," she returned, smiling
up at the stars.

Eventually, their parents found them, tore them away from each
other, and took the children back home. But nothing could break
that spark of love they had discovered, and they found each other
the next day and the next, quickly becoming the very best of friends,
completely inseparable. No matter how their parents tried to keep
them apart, nothing would work. They would spend as much of
their days together as possible, often with Andira watching Shiedan
practicing his sword play in the yard. She volunteered at the
Voralian soup kitchen very young age, spending her time pouring soup
for the needy and daydreaming about Shiedan.

At night, after their work was done, they would escape from their
bedrooms and meet just so they could sleep beside each other
beneath the stars. As puberty took them both, their love only
deepened and when they both turned one hundred and ten, they
petitioned their parents to let them wed. They were of course
denied because they were so young, but they snuck away that
very night, made the dangerous trip to Tir Tilath, and convinced
the clergy there to join their hands in marriage.

After that, their parents finally gave up on trying to keep the
two apart. They bought them a small cottage off of Silverpine
Road, near to their own houses, and gave Shiedan and Andira
their blessings.

Role

Chapter 3

The couple settled into what one might consider the perfect
life. By day, Andira would divide her time between charity
work in Voralian City and tending the small house she and
Shiedan shared. He enlisted with the Brigade of the Phoenix as
soon as he was old enough, joining the clergy of Baerinika and
being anointed as one of her knights. Each day he would set
out to fight the wicked, and each night he would return home,
battered and bruised yet strong and content. Andira would
tend his wounds, they would make love and fall asleep before
their small, warm hearth.

Life continued this way for several years, and as Andira truly
settled into her life as the wife of a Maran, she began to ache
with the need to give Shiedan a child. It never happened, and
her infertility was truly the only dark spot on an otherwise
perfect life.

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