Dreaming Dances of the Dearly Departed

"Is it about the ghost you and I have been studying? The one who isn't dead, yet isn't alive. A strange place from existing to voidlike juxtaposition. Did she say something to you, has she regained enough of her energy to speak with us again?" Azorez was always good at redirecting a conversation when she wanted, but a little truth never hurt.

"When the clan was attacked by Galus, when you first noticed that our souls were not the same as humanity's, she said something to me that has haunted me endlessly." The Necromancer noted how tired the Priestess looked again. She knew it wasn't from being foisted into the global political scene by the Dwarves, she knew it wasn't that the Goblins were in the middle of modernizing and changing their entire culture to co-occupy in the same space as Galus and her contemporaries. She knew, she knew that the deeper she dove into the strange magics this Ghost had been speaking of, the way the Wayfare Guild welcomed her without so much as a discussion. There was something more.

"What did she say to you then?" Azorez folded her fingers together.

She turned away, not wanting meet her eyes. "That she was the Mother of Rythia, the Mother to us all." With a flash Ilgor was in front of the Necromancer, "Then you go and speak about ancient chambers below the Village, a body that refuses to rot. A corpse besides another with Rythia's name plastered over those walls. I need to know. What happened, where did all this start. This magic the Ghost has been teaching my is ancient, older than anything else even you've spoke of. It's a timeless thing, a Song. Please, Azorez, I know it doesn't make sense. But, I need to speak with her, but she refuses to answer my call in the way I was taught. I know that resurrection spell of yours calls upon the memories of dead."

"It does not." She said flatly.

"What?" Ilgor responded with a perplexed look.

"It does not call upon the memories of the dead. It awakens a soul from its dreaming dreams and is reborn into the waking dreams of the living. It forces the target to live the life of the deceased and fuses their mind and souls together in a new life. A resurrection is not a calling upon the dead to answer a question, it is demanding that death be ignored and allowed to flourish in new gardens. Only someone with an exceptionally strong will can maintain their individuality and not be overtaken or mixed with the dead's soul. It is a horrifyingly potent spell, and holds a great many risks that go far and beyond a simple question of life and death. It's not something I am willing to subject anyone to without a monumentally good reason." Her expression never changed, stone faced.

"What would you need to change your mind?" Ilgor asked.

"First, I would want to see the body I dreamt about, and I would suggest you should to. I might add that we don't even know where the entrance to these vast caverns are. Let alone how to get to the bott..." Azorez cut herself off. Her eyes locked with something just over Ilgor's shoulder.

Turning, her hair standing up on end, like someone had opened a cold window in a storm. The Ghost was standing just behind her, holding Martha's lantern. Martha, Azorez's own twin who had died before she was even born drifted between the small group, peering into their faces with her cold rotting eyes. The Ghost still looked unwell, though as both the Casters noted over the last few months, she appeared to be regaining some of her weight, so to speak. Her hair was no longer falling out, her skin no longer looked waxen and sunken. Her tail no longer showed the ridges of the vertebrae in them, the tuft of fur at the end finally starting to grow back in. As Ilgor turned, it cupped her cheek in her bony hand. Slowly, in Common, though still mixing her own language in, she spoke. "Tel'yh, Azorez. Please, there are Wth'ri I cannot speak. Cursed knowledge from places elsewhere. Daughter Rythia, the end and beginning."

Azorez stepped back, suddenly remembering something. The being, the god, she had seen when she tried to help Yvet drift into The Shores Beyond. "I know that voice. I've never heard her speak until now, only read what she wrote down for us. You."

"Not, now. I walk where flesh refuses to rot. A here, but not. A thing, but not." It spoke, though the strain of doing so was painful, as well as painful to watch for both the Casters.

"You can take us there?" Ilgor asked, fingers trembling. If the Ghost knew, and could point them there, then Azorez wouldn't have any real reason to not have her conditions met.

"Where I Y'thrithsis, opposite. Yes, I can find it again." It's tired voice spoke. Azorez knew now, that nothing was going to stop this, and sighed from the bottom of her lungs.

Ilgor had assembled a small group to accompany her, as well as a few others who insisted on following her. The Ghost had simply pointed at the bottom of the massive pile of Keystones in the main chamber of the caves. Here was where Ilgor had been speaking with the long departed through the Ritual of Stars, it never occurred to her that the the bottom of pile might have been sitting on top of something. Azorez had long ago realized that few people could see the Ghost, or even hear her words, yet, when she was around and visible to those who could see her, she seemed to waft air of calm. The Goblins had always honored their dead in this way, carving their names into a stone and fitted into the greater structure of an intricately laced stonework that made up the stone wall.

It was always a labor of love to them to take one of the stones had have the priestess speak to the stone as if that soul were still here. To give them a chance to see the stars they loved so much once again. Stone by stone, carefully removed to allow the other stones to support the weight of it's loss without allowing the whole wall to collapse. Azorez always thought it reflected how the Goblins lived, "A good burial is not a loss, but a memory. As above, so below." She once told Ilgor, when they had first began learning each other's magic. Yet, when the group had assembled and began removing a mass amount of stones, the Family nearly stopped them, until Ilgor explained that there was more going on. That this was not a removal for the sake of removal, but to discover the loss of the past.

When she had calmed the crowd, they too began assisting her in carefully removing the built-in arches, the hundreds of thousands of stones with names so lovely carved into them. To be set away outside so they could see the stars even if only for a short while. Days of remembering the dead in their own way was nothing short of fascinating to the Necromancer. She never interrupted, never asked a question in their solemn remembrance. Life craves to be remembered by those they loved in life, and in death they returned the love they had sequestered. In their eyes, she watched as stories of their lives were told, ancient histories retold by the elders of the Clan as the wall slowly came to it's base.

Only Ilgor, having learned from Mother Kari and Chief Yorm knew these histories. Original names that felt familiar, yet seemed more myth than reality. Names found in their sermons, names found in their birthright. Some having been missed so long their names no longer held any meaning. Yet, the Necromancer watched as Ilgor so lovingly told her Family of these names. Their tales, their legacies, their weight in the Clan's history. It was only when Ilgor picked up the stone carved in the same Ashy Stone as The Azure Coast did she stop speaking. As she lifted it, speaking the name chiseled into it's face. "Rythia, First Child of Villy." Did the floor it rested upon cave in great plume of dust.

Azorez had no doubt that Ilgor was caught up in the moment, but noted the title she had spoken. "First Child of Villy, the Ghost has said it was Rythia's mother, was their original mother. So the Ghost's name might be Villy." The crowd was silent as the dust began to settle, an ancient long ago sealed cavern now open in their home. Where they had been building a doorway to seal it away further without ever realizing it. The Ghost simple stood and watched next to Ilgor, watching her face as she wrapped her tail around her in that all too familiar gesture. Azorez never figured out if it was meant to be comforting, or a signal, or anything else. It was just something the Ghost did.

With a wordless signal, Ilgor stepped into the darkness of the cavern, a soft hum escaping her throat as a series of lights lit the pathway down into the ashstone. Soon followed by the pack carrying group, Knoll, Cori, Ghet. Followed by Halgier, and a coterie of Dwarven Guardsmen, he hollered back out of the hole to Hob who had crossed him arms. "You are in charge until Ilgor returns, son." The look on Hob's face only betrayed the knowledge that this had been long talked about before they had even first started digging out the cave. Azorez picked up the small pack she had been sitting with for the last few days, and her daughter's fingers curled into hers as they walked toward the cave entrance.

The first night was not something they expected, it wasn't the darkness, it wasn't the sound of water dripping from somewhere they couldn't see. It wasn't the foul air that caused their lungs to burn something fierce, it wasn't the scratch marks that made the tunnels where finger nails were worn to the bone. Blood to stain the stone for an untold amount of time, only for the remnants of ancient magic to linger where those same hands were healed again, and again and again. It was how quiet Ilgor had become.

Her voice was clear, constant humming filling the tunnels that kept their witch-lights glowing, hovering orbs of pure sunlight to follow them like lanterns in the dark. It was the strange fact that her mind seemed distant, the other Goblins in the group seemed fine, though their concern was far more evident the longer it went on. Her words seemed off, like she was somewhere else, speaking to someone else every time. Halgier's soldiers marched on ahead with Ilgor's lights zipping out in front of them to light corners and pathways for them to investigate before the group moved forward. The Dwarven King marched with them, heavy ax hefted in white knuckles as he and everyone else watched Ilgor grow more and more distant the deeper they went.

They had reached cavern where the hand-dug tunnel opened up into a massive lake bubbling in its center. The Dwarves knew better though, one of the vanguard picking a piece of leather off his armor and tossed it in the water to watch it dissolve away. "Acid lakes, are not that uncommon in ashy stone. When we first began building the City of Mhuzchet, we ran into a few of them, though we were able to drain them. This though..." Halgier's gravely voice echoed in the humid chamber.

"Shouldn't stay at the same level as the lake." Ilgor's voice called out from the darkness, no one noticed that she had wandered out past their lights. "Higher ground, or deep still."

Azorez was the first to ask, "Mother, are you alright?" Talia following right behind her as she quickly walked over to where Ilgor was standing at the waters edge. Their reflections staring back at them in the mostly still waters, only the occasional ripple breaking the surface from the bubbling lake. "Mirrors, sometimes they show us what we wish, sometimes they show us what we are."

The Necromancer put her hand on Ilgor's shoulder, and gently pulled her back from the acid lake's edge. "I'm sorry, I just. I didn't think you were telling the truth, I wanted you to be wrong. I wanted you to be wrong that this all existed down here. I can't be the only one who noticed that whoever dug these tunnels dug it with their bare hands. You can feel it can't you?" Her voice sounded faint, like speaking to someone far away.

"The air isn't right down here, you are unwell." Cori walked over, tipping a flask of strong smelling spirits into Illy's lips, who drank gratefully.

But, she only shook her head. Her humming changed pitch, a great gust of wind coming in from the opening they had just come from, filling the chamber and presumably the many floors below with fresh smelling air. She touched a finger to the acid lake and froze it's surface, Azorez's eyes widened in surprise, such a casual display of power. "It's not the air."

The vanguard in quick order pulled pocket watches out after a soft chime went off, then began setting up camp around the small group around the Priestess. Midnight had come to the world above them, hard to tell down here in the darkness. The Dwarves busied themselves with operating a small hotbox that ignited under a large pot that they had began filling with food and a few pints of beer that had brought with them. A wordless command given to them by Halgier, they went out of their way to make the area feel comfortable.

Cori, Knoll and Ghet had unrolled sleeping pads that they had brought with them. While Talia talked with the Dwarves about what they were doing, Azorez turned to Ilgor again. "It's not the air, what is going on? Do you know, or is it something else?"

The Goblins ears flared out to listen at the Necromancer's words, Ilgor sighed, folding her hands together. "I just, think about it for a moment, I've been thinking about it this entire time. The second I picked up Rythia's keystone, the floor gave way. The first stone ever made, placed over a tunnel she had dug. Is our tradition something we actually know? For generations we kept making them, honoring them as we learned from those who passed to The Shores Beyond to join the Great Father's side. Only with each new stone to bury this place. Did Rythia make this tradition to hide something? I can't help but wonder why she did this, why she ran away from the family to come down to this... place."

Cori piped up, holding her clan symbol in her fingers. In some ways Cori was more faithful than Ilgor, yet, in others she needed the reassurance. "What do you mean ran away? The stories Kari and Ysry told about Rythia was that died protecting clan from a darkness that tried to swallow the clan after the Great Father left our world to fight the darkness once more."

She hung her head, the lights diming around them all as her humming died down. "That's the story all the Priestess's were told to tell the family. Kari never told me the reason, but the actual story doesn't quiet go like that. When Rythia challenged the darkness that was threatening to consume the Clan, she beat it back with her voice and the fires burned into her eyes. She brought the night sky to bare the stars once more and drove the darkness back to the seas and caves from where it was birthed. Monstrosities that only came in hoards and waves, she weaved great storms to safeguard the family when Bhal had left us, in the end she pushed the darkness back. When she returned to the village, they couldn't help but notice something was different about her. Her eyes were burned with scars that charred her skin in a mimicking of fire, and she would only only speak to the Chief at the time."

Knoll commented, "Charred eyes. You had eyes of fire that night too, when you pushed back another kind of darkness." They all looked at the scars around Illy's eyes, faint licking flames from when she had used the Archon Stones. "What happened next, Mother."

She touched the slight ridging around them, remembering that the Ghost had appeared to her then too. Only granting her an enormous power that she never thought possible. "She started speaking about a voice below. She said the darkness was something they had fought and lost to before, she said to not believe the Father. At the time, when the story was written, the Chief was a warmonger who fought against the growing tide of humans, He did everything he could to get the family to fight along side him, but isn't it strange how Rythia spoke only to him after the Great storms? Why say don't trust the Father? I think she wasn't talking about the Chief. But, after that, she disappeared. In the next passage of our holy books, it talks about how we honor the memory of those that fell with the keystones. So that they may see the skies once again that Rythia cleared of darkness, so that the family may feel free once more to listen and rejoice in the presence of the living again."

Halgier's soldiers handed out steaming bowls of food to the party, settling in to listen to Illy as their sole focus. Her own bowl of food sitting in her lap untouched. "I just find it strange, and somehow horrifying that our own practices may be what sealed this place for so long. It makes me wonder what else feels like a lie now. How can it be coincidence that that story is immediately preceded by that?"

"Is it though? Who wrote your holy books? Is it really the words of Bhal if he wasn't the one to write them?" Halgier asked, not a hint of deception in his eyes.

"Skies Grace was never meant to be a word for word translation of Bhal's words. Kari made that very clear to me. Only the Chiefs and Priestess' have ever been allowed to write in it, and it was always to tell the lessons they learned from their lives. Bhal is only ever really mentioned in the way that says he said something as to what he expected of us, but never his words directly. Ironically, thinking about it, he never really appears after the family had become established in the wake of the starless skies." She explained, looking down at the bowl but never feeling hungry for it.

"You mean to tell me, Bhal, your god, doesn't even appear all that much?" Azorez asked, wiping the grime off Talia's face.

"I know the Caliphate speaks about him quite a bit, but I've not had the chance to read anything from their texts. The courts refuse to let me anywhere near that." She responded.

"Bhal is an active hand in the Caliphate, he's been witnessed many times through history. Even leading their armies at times, a forceful hand that demands to be seen, this was just unexpected from your faith. Bhal is an egotistical god, prideful. For him to abandon you after you were established in the wake of the Dawn of Truths, seems odd." Halgier finished for Azorez.

"Lets get back to that she ran away line. This is interesting and all, but, where does that come from? You said she disappeared." Cori asked.

"We don't make stones for those that go missing, do we. We don't make stones for those we didn't see come back to the family in dreaming sleep. Why does she have a stone? No one saw her body again, no one saw where she went, yet. The Chief made a stone for her. On top of this place?" She gestured to the cavern, and back at the way they came. "She ran away alright, ran somewhere far below. That's what's been bothering me. I only have more questions, I have no answers, and that DAMNED Ghost is back!" Ilgor's voice cracked with exasperation as all their lights went out as she stopped humming entirely.

In the scramble, most missed it. Azorez, undaunted by the strange happenings as her entire life had been nothing but, heard that voice. So quiet, so meek, but absolute. "Rythia saw what other were made to forget. What you cling to." In the arc of the lanterns being lit, she saw that ghost wrap it's tail around her once more as she disappeared in the shadows. Illy only sitting there, unconvinced, a look of doubt across her face.

The next morning, or what one could call the morning as the soft chime of pocket watches sounded off, the group found the next chamber hidden behind an outcrop that had collapsed long ago. They found the same bloody scratch marks on every hard chiseled surface, that same ambient energy of potent and constant healing magic being used. The stones feeling as if they drank deep from that power and remained in the euphoria of that drunkenness for evermore. The next chamber they found was a strange sight, more of a curiosity than anything else.

The next chamber was filled with strange mushrooms that glowed enough to light up the entire chamber, they reacted brilliantly to any magic being used. Glowing brightly like a morning sun, at least until Ilgor silenced the entire room after finding more than a few ceremonial beads left on a plinth. Ancient symbols only seen in the holy books, symbols that were originals from the ones used today. The room felt as if it had died with yet another confirmation that they were at the very least following an ancient priestess.

The next room was darker, vaulted ceilings of great stalactites, though the Dwarves noted an oddity they kept noticing. These great columns where that, yes, but they were formed around something already built. As if they reached a Cathedral long forgotten, a choral chamber now silent save for the single singer left to grace these empty halls. A half destroyed palace to be buried under ash and stone, the wonder echoing off the eyes of those to bare it witness. Save for the one who sings, and is reminded of the past and the thoughts of those buried here. The one question to plague the mind, how did a building get this far underground?

When the pathways grew deeper still, they found city streets. Buildings of metals that no mortal could describe, save for the Ghost who wept softly at seeing a past lost. Save for the one she followed who felt her pain, a connection unexplained. And felt her heart die a little more with each passing step into the nothing. Deeper still, they found their history, bodies, or what was left of them. Preserved in the stagnant air of ash and dark, countless. Skulls and bones of a people who were familiar to the Goblins, yet somehow not. Familiar though indeed, familiar in form, familiar in feel and size, familiar in everything.

In the center of it all, a vast column of charred glass. Supporting the cavern in it's silent vigil. Only here, the party stood still, as Ilgor sank to her knees to bear witness to the words scrawled in a tongue unfamiliar to the Dwarves, unfamiliar to Azorez. "I found you again, Mother." "I knew I was lied to." "He took everything." "He lied to us." "He made us forget you." "Great Mother".

It was hours later before Ilgor let anyone near the chamber in the glass column, when she first set foot into it, she fell to her knees and cast a wind ward around the entire area. Her humming stopped, though the spell was potent enough that her own brand of magic dared not itself breathe. Knoll and Cori had a long conversation with Ghet about how they thought she might be cracking again, the same way she did when she took full leadership of the Clan after being forced to kill Yorm. She was young yes, but strong, naive in ways, sometimes she just needed to let older hands guide for just a moment. Yet, they decided to stay out of what ever process she was going through, they would see with their own eyes soon enough.

Azorez sat well away from the column, advising that the vanguard search the necropolis, see if they found anything consistent or noteworthy. Halgier sat next to her, heavy voice breaking the silence. "What is in that thing? It has been quite a while since I read about the treason of General Baptiste, but this strikes me as awfully similar to the Necropolis found at the bottom of the ruins of Skjalich. Only, I don't see any of these wandering shadows that were mentioned."

She waited for a while before responding. Talia practicing rune structures and spell constructs in the dust, she watched as the circle glowed brightly for a moment then winked out of existence. "Yes, Chu. This is very similar to my home in Skjalich, though many centuries of work by the denizens there gave all those poor souls in that dark place a proper rest. They devoted their entire culture around providing the peace they deserved, a similarity I noticed with the Goblins. Despite being connected by nothing, those who dwelled in the graves of those long passed, they share a certain aura about them. You know, the ones who live in the dark in Skjalich's halls, they were human once. Now, they seem to be something similar, but not quite. Strange isn't it that a people from Galus adopted a cultural perspective of the Goblins without ever meeting them?"

"You care an awful lot about death and the ways people deal with it." Halgier answered, pulling a cork from a wineskin and offering it to the Necromancer.

"I do not drink. But, thank you, Talia might enjoy a sip though, a sip mind you." Halgier handed it to the little girl who wrinkled her nose at it but drank from it anyway. "It comes with the territory, it's a strange thing to wonder about what happens next. Even though I have a much different perspective from you, I do not see death as something to be concerned with. It's the quiet of the soul in it's setting sun. It's the calm acknowledgement that the wheel must turn. I am interested in how the living must endure without another soul they so cherished. I find it fascinating the ways people tell themselves the stories they must hear, a closure in a sense."

"We leave our dead to the skies. A sky burial, it only seems right to let them lie in a place we have no home in." The Dwarven King answered solemnly.

"The nomads of the Dwarves, always on the march but never resting. Only in the dreaming sleep do you rest, it does seem fitting to leave the dead where they lie when stopping isn't an option. Though, I do wonder how that mentality is shifting with Mhuzchet becoming a hub for Dwarven Might." Azorez pondered, turning to look at the King.

"What is in the column? Ilgor mentioned you had a dream about it, but admitted to us that she didn't believe it. At least not until now." They watched as the other Goblins finally walked toward the entrance of the column, and watched again as their hair stood on end, ears flaring out in alarm.

"I do not know, all I saw was a body that refused to rot, and a body of a long dead priestess with innumerable scribblings along the inside of a dark chamber. I have my suspicions, yet that is all they are for the moment. Ilgor told me that all her rituals to speak with the Fallen had failed passed a certain point. She admitted that she never knew their was a limitation to their religious communion. She has been unable to speak to the first few generations of the Clan, since the time of what they call 'The Darkness' embrace'. But, from what Illy has told me, this lines up with the events that caused the Dawn of Truths." The Necromancer didn't move as the other goblins came back out of the column, pale looking. She wouldn't interrupt the process they were going through, Halgier had the good sense to know this as well as he barked a quiet order to his vanguard still poking through these ruins of death. The miles of cable they caried with them, transmitting the sound of his voice to his men.

"I suppose it would indeed to rude to interrupt on their mourning. This wasn't anything they were expecting." Halgier said back to her, putting the mouth piece back on it's bracket on the small box arcing with arcane light.

"What is that? Your men are strong to carry so much cable with them, especially all the way down here. Why bring it?" Azorez asked, eyeing the thing they had told her once was called a radio.

"It's called phone line, small wires carry my voice to the other end so that the one on the other end can hear it. I assumed it would be a good thing to have something that served two purposes. Nice to have communications in a potential dangerous place, and a life line to follow back in a cave system. Physical cable was a better option, difficult to transport on their spools, but seems they have served their purpose. The men will be able to find their way back to this location without any issue, they need to rewind the spool as they walk back here anyway." He spoke into the comms microphone again. "Report."   A series of static filled voices sounded off, though they overlapped, it was still intelligible. "Most of the bodies are deformed in many ways." "All seem to be the same species." "They seemed to have died in waves." "Their bones are charred." "Small humanoid creatures, very similar to our Goblin friends, though they all have tails."   The king didn't respond, only hung the receiver back on the bracket again. "Tell me, Miss Necromancer. What is this thing you and Ilgor have been studying, you seem to see it at times. Yet none of us have seen it. Save for you and her."

"Do recall the report Gjorn gave you about the Skirmish that brought the Dwarven State here? That being that appeared just before Ilgor laid waste to the entire garrison in just a few moments. That being, according to Illy, is the same entity that has been following since her Ceremony into the Sisterhood of Bhal. Only the one she typically sees is far more emaciated, haggard, and labored in existing. She describes her as corpse, though I do not sense anything dead about this entity. She smells of divinity in the same way that the gods do, only far older." She stood up, stretching her legs.

"What do you smells of divinity?" He asked, pulling the radio over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, there just isn't a better way to describe it. It's not as if it's an actual scent, I wouldn't be able to tell you what it is. But, that is how it presents to me at least, not one of the other ghosts I've ever assisted to The Shores Beyond have ever mentioned anything like. I only noticed it when I communed with Yvet's soul, while witnessing several disturbing things. For example, Bhal struck down that entity after she had done something to his soul and returned it back to the way he arrived." Her back popped as she leaned back.

"Interesting choice of words. The way he arrived, not back to normal." Halgier probed.

"It is not my place to determine a soul's true form, or whatever condition is afflicting it. Though, I will note that when the entity changed his soul, he too sprouted that tail that keeps being mentioned. Mimicking the ghost that follows Ilgor, now mimicking these countless bodies far below their home. To me, it felt as if his soul was cleansed of something, of what I couldn't say. Only that it was... natural? For lack of better words." The two began walking toward the column while Talia stayed behind at a gesture from her Mother.

"Have you discussed this with her?" Halgier asked, eyes locked to the entrance of the column.

"My speculation? No, not yet. I haven't known her so long as to question her religion in such a way. We have discussed Yvet's passing and the briefly requitted love they shared, I helped her grieve for her would be lover." She didn't notice Halgier's side long look at her at that statement. "Gave her closure in the wake of it all, as I did with many of the Goblins. We have talked endlessly about the words and interactions she's had with the ghost and what happened when she used the Archon Stones during the Skirmish. But, I still do not quite feel comfortable telling her I have doubts about her faith."

"Bhal should be opposed, he a god of conquest and domination. There was a very real reason the War began, and why my people had to fight on the side of the Federation to preserve our own border, If Huron fell, they would have been a threat to Mhuzchet." Halgier huffed, the memories of his time in the war still burned into his mind.

"Does Ilgor seem the type to wage war with Galus over her beliefs? I do believe she tried everything in her power to stop that from happening, and it was the fault of the Galcian Military for the whole incident." Azorez snapped back.

"Her ambition echoes the same teachings of the Caliphate, while she may wish to assimilate into Galus as whole, I need to remind you that Chief Yorm was the one who initiated the conflict for his willingness to ignore Ilgor and her warnings. And he followed the teachings of Bhal and tried to win himself glory in his name by slaughtering that delegation." The King growled back. "While Ilgor follows that foul god, and her people do too. I am immensely pleased to see that she refuses to subject her people to that asinine doctrine that the Caliphate follows. Glory for the sake of glory through conquest only earns you enemies of those that survive. There is no victory unless it is complete, and they would not have stopped until that was met."

"Are we still speaking about Ilgor?" She asked coldly, as they stopped just before the entrance of the column.   The King shut his mouth, shaking his head. She whispered as they stepped through entrance, "I agree with you, but her faith is hers to break. I do not think it would take much longer, given the things we are finding here." As she said it, the King stopped in his tracks bearing witness to the inside of the chamber, open mouthed, and stunned. Every singe surface was cover in scratched out symbols in a language he didn't understand, many written in blood. Yet he recognized it nonetheless, the same script that was in the chamber were Gjorn had taken the Black Fortress. While he didn't understand it, he felt it. The desperation, the hopelessness, the fear and worry. The finality of it struck him oddly, but it was nothing compared to the thing that left him enthralled.

In the middle of the chamber was a strange sight, morbid, and sickening in a way he couldn't have quite described. A female corpse that looked striking like the Goblins, only that her skin was the same as a night sky. Constellations slowly moving over what exposed skin there was, an impossibly long set of three tails coiling their way throughout the room. Her eyes were open, staring into nothing, swirling galaxies still turning endlessly in them. Burn marks sliding down where her eyes met her skin, Halgier noted the it was same thing as what Illy's eyes had done after she used the Archon Stones. But, what made his stomach turn, was the gaping slash through her neck from one side of her neck to the other straight down to the bone. If he had the stomach to, he would have seen her vocal chords, all three of them, had been ripped apart in particular. A hole burned through her chest, where something had been stabbed through her.

The longer he looked at this corpse, the longer it took him to notice that there wasn't a hint of rot on her. Not her hair, not the flower that seemed to grow from her head, not the threads of the clothing she wore. Not her skin, or her muscle. But, what he did notice was the stone of solidified blood that had clung to the gash in her neck for lords knew how long. It seemed more real than anything else around, pulsing with a heartbeat that no longer thrummed along to it's own drum. "Is that an... Archon Stone?" Halgier finally asked, his voice sounding wrong and disrespectful in this quiet place. Instantly wishing he hadn't said anything at all.

Prying his eyes away from the un-corpse in the middle of the room, he finally noticed Ilgor, sitting in silence next to a skeleton. It's thread bare white robes the only thing giving it form still while it's bones rested below. A silver diadem resting on it's head, sightless sockets staring at the corpse in the middle of the room. He noted the ends of it's fingers were missing, ground down to joints where it's fingers ended. The claw marks in every tunnel of their way down here was apparently not for show after all. One arm out stretched toward the corpse, fingers reaching for a hand that could never return the gesture. His throat clenched at seeing Ilgor have her hand over the skeleton's, her other cupping its face where it's cheek would have been.

She did not cry, her face dry, unstreaked from the dust they had endured on their descent toward this grave. Her eyes were distant, he knew that look far too well. Someone somewhere far away, somewhere they shouldn't stay for long. Somewhere they never should have gone in the first place. In a place where the lines between life and death failed to matter to the mind, for the heart to reach further out than it had any right to exist. Walking over to her, careful to not disturb even a stray hair from the un-corpse, he knelt next to her. He wouldn't touch her, this was not the time, he knew she was aware he was next to her only that he understood that she was too far out to register completely.

He recalled a prayer he had heard her give to the Goblins while they mourned their own dead. "For the Fallen we have left behind, for the Fallen that will live on in our hearts and memory. We see the stars beyond the lights that we see, and see your light join those in the heavens above. To the departed we dance in your honor."

He watched her word the rest of the prayer through silent lips. "The Lord of our ancestors passed, take us home to the skies we love. Great Father grant us yet another day to love the ones we still hold in our hands."

Halgier had watched the Goblins turn the heads faces towards the skies, gently he shifted the skeleton's skull to face upward in a way that didn't seem like he was breaking it's neck. That finally snapped Ilgor out of her stupor, and hot tears ran down her face finally. Flinging her arms around Halgier, shoulders shaking from wave after wave of conflicted emotion.

Azorez sat in the middle of her circle, watching as the Ghost stared down at her own body, seemingly without a desire to return it. The Ghost touched her own corpses hands, what surprised her was the the corpse's fingers moved in reaction. Though, she suspected no one else noticed that while Ilgor was still finishing the circle around both her and the corpse of Rythia. Told they could not move the body as the vessel that the once held in life was an anchor to wandering souls, they might not understand why it is, but it will always be a draw for them. A call to a soul was made easier in proximity to the vessel they once held as long as it was the same place they died.

Ilgor's hands worked quickly drawing the runes to encircle her place in the ritual, drawing lines between herself and Rythia. Her power was starting to pulse outward with lapses in control, Azorez was always amazed at Ilgor's raw power with her magic. But, in cases like this, more ambient energy would be welcomed, calling to souls was a taxing endeavor for the Necromancer. Ancient souls were rare, let along ones that they could even be understood at that point as well. All that time alone, tended to make these souls lose themselves. If the soul was even still around, Azorez didn't know what happened to them after they passed beyond the true boundary, but the older the soul the more likely it was gone.

"Are you sure you want to attempt this?" Azorez asked, raising her hands to place them over both the sigils in front of her.

"I know you spoke of the chance that her soul might be gone, but I simply must try. I just know... she's there." Ilgor responded, placing her own hands over the sigils.

The Necromancer closed her eyes, calling out to the aether. The firmament that made the weave of life, the gift given to them by their creators. A plea from life to death to answer one more call, just one more. An offer to the heavens and earth, a call to live again. Through a new vessel, through new eyes that had naught yet to the skies beyond the light which they see. A calling to a formless soul, a calling from the new vessel to dance with a new soul. A rebirth, a shared experience from one body to another, from one mind and body to birth a new existence.

I stood in a place I didn't understand, a vast sea that reflected back the slowly turning stars above. My foot steps causing no ripple a top this sea, the horizon a blur between light and dark. The cosmos above turning in their placid ever turning patterns, reflected in reverse to the mirror below. Was this was it was meant to be? For the heavens to witness itself? Was it the purpose to stand a top a grand reflection to see oneself for what they were? Looking down, I didn't see my reflection in the seas.

So was I not part of this in the end? Was the point of this meant to be something else, if the skies above were reflected below, then why am the single exception here? Perhaps it didn't matter, my footsteps my only companion as I slowly walked toward that horizon. Leaving no trace behind me, leaving me no path forward to follow, perhaps that was the point. I didn't know how long I walked for, simply enjoying watching the nebulas and cosmic clouds shift above. As if I was some grand conductor to a symphony I couldn't hear, I softly hummed to myself with the tempo of the skies.

"You are getting closer to the point." I whipped my head around to that unfamiliar voice. A woman, ageless to my eyes. Though her skin swirled in the same ever shifting patters as the skies above, a tail sweetly curling around my waist the same way the Ghost did to me. Her hair bounced slightly as she walked next to me to stare up at the skies with me, the same auburn nut brown as mine. Her face was soft, but wise, like someone who had lived a thousand lives and still had the energy to smile.

"Mother." I said, shocked as the situation dawned on me finally. Azorez said that it would be surreal, that she didn't know what the soul would actually be. I felt as if I was looking at something not quite like me, but an origin. Like hearing a verse from it's original song. "You are not a Goblin, are you." It wasn't a question.

"Goblin? Ah, so that's what he has named us in our defeat. He still called us Brownies after the Fall. When he chained us to his will. When did that change in the books, the ones I wrote." Turning to me, she placed her hand in mind. "Child, from what age to you come? How far away has this Child stepped away from time to see me once more?"

"I don't think I'd be able to answer that..." I truly didn't, I had no idea how old this soul was, nor the true distance between then and now.

"Why call to me from so far away then? I heard you calling out the other Priestess', yet your voice never called to me, yet you tried. I may have an answer for you, I may not." She asked.

So I told her of my life, the Ceremony and how a spirit was following me. My doubts in my faith as Bhal commanded us to live in such squalor when we could raise to so much greater heights. How we must fight to survive, how we must struggle to exist. I told her of my duel with Yorm, and my regrets for having to kill him to save our family from annihilation at the hands of the humans. I told her that this Ghost claimed to be the Mother of Rythia, the Mother to us all. For what seemed an eternity, she never interrupted me, never stopped me to ask a question. The look in her eyes spoke for her, she wanted me to vent my frustrations and fears.

My voice was hoarse when I finally stopped to ask her a question, "Why let me speak for so long? You didn't even ask any questions, Mother."

"Because it is what Mother would have done for me. Rage, frustration, fear, anxiety, are all part of process you are enduring. You do not clean a river by stopping the water, you clean it by letting the blockage collapse. There are many things you spoke about that I do not understand, many things that I do not know what they are. There are things you spoke of that ring as false to me, outright lies that you yourself believe. But, what would be the point in stopping you from doing so, you do not build by tearing down the structure without seeing the whole." She answered.

"Is that what I sound like to the Family?" I laughed.

Her giggle was like music to my ears, "Perhaps, it is a heavy crown is it not? To have a heart, to want people to heal, to know that you are a source of comfort to the Family."

My smile slowly vanished as the next words fell from my lips. "What lies to you think I believe. I came to The Shores Beyond to find you, because I need to know what is happening. Who is this Ghost following me, why can't I call to you from normal means? The other Priestess' answered me, many of the Chiefs did as well. But, I couldn't call passed a certain point, why?"

She was silent for a long while, eyes boring into mine, despite the lack of expression, the feeling of shock from hurt. Like a festering wound that had finally burst. "Do you know? That name you used. The Shores Beyond, isn't real."   Now it was my turn for shock. But, Rythia only continued, "You, and the rest of the Family have been lied to. There is nothing after this. There was never a place built for our souls to go, the QɄ₳Ɽ₮Ɇ₮ had never imagined a world where death would be needed. Now" her voice like broken glass, bitter and cold. "Look at me now."

"What do you mean?" I asked feeling my hands grow cold in hers. "What do you mean it isn't real? Our souls go on passed the Shores to join the Great Father in his battles, our lives were meant to strengthen through trail and hardship to become strong to fight by his side."

Her tail tightened around my waist, her grip tightened on mine as she closed her eyes blinking back bitter tears. "I know, I was the one who wrote those words. I was the one who set about teaching the family those lessons, but I never wanted to, he wanted to punish me in particular. I was never made to forget what happened, while he wiped the minds of all my brothers and sisters. Compelled me to write his truths instead of the truth. I broke my heart a thousand times over trying to find a way to teach them the truth."

"I, I I don't understand." The words stumbled out.

"Have never noticed that the family still acts like a family? How we honor the sky, how we honor the songs of this world, how the sounds of life fills our ears, how our voices command the world around us? Yet the war he waged still exists in our hearts so that he may make us follow him? He stripped us of our gifts, our skin, our pride of our foundations of what it meant to be a Brownie." Her words raced out of her mouth.

"I do not know what a Brownie is!" I yelled at her. My mind refusing to believe that she was saying these things about our god.

"You are a Shadow Touched Child, the same as me now. You call yourself a Goblin, yet you are a twisted and deformed Brownie. He took your tail, he took your skin and made it a background. He took everything from us!" Her yell cracked the heavens above.

The others came rushing into the column as Ilgor started screaming, her eyes burning with a unearthly light. Azorez was growing tired, sweat dripping off her face. "I need you to withstand this, Illy. I maintain this bridge between two souls, I will not have it crumble now." The other Goblins rushed up to Ilgor, only to be stopped by Halgier's outstretched axe, Azorez had asked the King to stop anyone from touching her. She knew the others would want to step in, this was never a pleasant process.

To the Goblins, this reminded them exactly of what happened during her Ceremony. The pain in her voice broke their hearts, the power in her voice causing cracks in the column. "Halgier... Cori, any of you." Azorez's voice was weak from this effort.

Knoll walked over to her, "What is it?"

"The blood, that body's blood is the source. That Archon Stone dripping from her neck, give it to Ilgor." Knoll's face went pale at the though of going near it. His chest rose with a deep breath, exhaling sounding like prayer for courage. Rising he walked over to the un-corpse, with trembling hands he reached down to her neck. He recoiled before touching her, breathing heavily. He steadied himself, taking a deeper breath his eyes filled with steel. Gently he rested a hand on hers and plucked the stone from her neck.

He retched at its touch, but brought it over to Azorez. Between labored breaths, he asked "What do I do with it?"

"Put it in in her hand and speak to her about a memory between you two. Make her think about family, despite her screaming."

Azorez told me that when the resurrection would occur, tempers would flare. That I would need to stand my ground when it happened, otherwise I would be absorbed in the moment and lose myself. I poured power from my soul into my voice, demanding to this place I be heard. "Rythia." The sound of her own name took her breath away. "I do not know what happened, I do not know the history of our people before your time. I had it pointed out to me at one point that I had no answer for their questions. Every story I was told, every lesson I learned from my Mother, and her Mother before her, and their Mother's Mother. You existed before the darkness swallowed the world and Bhal brought forth the light into the dark with his Golden Spear. That fact alone makes me question something, I was told we were born from the thoughts and ambition of Bhal on the day he created this world for us. But, you already existed."   I rushed over the pleading look in her eyes, "I want to know. But, I cannot stay here. I want to know everything you know. I want to know what you are speaking of with such blasphemy, because I feel somewhere deep in my heart that something is wrong. I cannot find answers in the lives of the waking dreams, so I called to you in hopes that I could know."

"What are you asking me, Child?" She questioned a look of hesitation evident on her face.

"Look at this place, you are soul who has not gone passed the horizon, you wait here for what? You know there is nothing after this, you said so. So what really is waiting for us at the end? You already told me that Bhal is a lie and the things your wrote for us to follow are only a half truth, what you are not telling me is what happens to our fallen peoples souls. You clearly know or you would have gone by now. You are also not telling me what happened to be chained as you put it." I tried so hard to sound like nothing was an accusation, but I knew I wasn't doing a good job.

"I am compelled not to tell you. That was my curse in life for being the Champion of our people in his war. Even in death I am unable to do anything about the chains he put on me. On our people, you too cling to those chains and fail to realize it." She answered.

"The come with me, return home. Let me see what you have seen, let me experience your life. Perhaps in rebirth you can be free of this." I answered her, gripping her hand even tighter. "You said you lived in a world that was never meant to have death, so you still exist. You have not left and remain here, so why not live again."

"I've never heard of this magic before, Child. But, I do remember Mother speaking about how our Divine Sparks can grow and coalesce into new things. Such was the gift of the Song she sung for us." Rythia grabbed my other hand in hers. "Mother, I wish you still had a tail."

"What is a Divine Spark?" I asked, readying myself for whatever magic we were about conduct, though something felt right about this.

"It is the same fire that made our dear Mothers and Father made them divine. A spark from their souls to grow on their own. Mine was a grand fire as in the days before the War I stepped with my Mother to walk with her in her realm. I was a god at one time, until I burned away my divinity to protect my family from Shadow: Wrath. Your spark is no longer a spark to my eyes, but an ember waiting to grow. That spark is what allows us to use the Song voiced into this world by Mother, and it is what allows you to use your magic."

"That's a lot of things I don't understand." I laughed.

"You will in time." She smiled all the way to her eyes. "I fear that the chains that Bhal has placed upon us will lock away quite a bit of what I have. I hope you have a plan for teasing out information, I, Rythia, willing be consumed by your skies." The world around us slowly began to fade, as the distinction between us and our souls intertwined, blurred. "Ilgor."

"I never told you my name." Feeling my smile dance across my face.

"You may have heard this before, I've always known your name. The same way I know all my Children's names, I was just someone you never knew, yet have now met. I love you, Child."

I woke drenched in sweat, every muscle in my body rebelling. It was more effort than I though imaginable to simple turn my head to see Azorez collapsed in her own circle. I felt something in my hand, flicking my eyes down to it I saw a stone clearer than anything else that could have existed. "Is that?" I thought to myself. Something felt... different. I couldn't place my finger on it.

My body screamed as someone scooped me up in a tight hug, nearly crushing my ribs in the process. The pressure only increased as I heard Cori and Ghet's voices. "We thought we lost you."

"Well, Ilgor is still here isn't she?" I laughed unable to return the gesture to them. "I am still here I should say. Is Azorez okay?"

"I am alive." Her flat voice made me laugh again. "I would seem I was successful in doing my part. It would also seem that you were not consumed either. Wonderful."

"You know, when I'm not in the middle of being crushed to death here, I'd be happy to heal you." At that Knoll let me go, Cori catching me before I fell over again.

"Don't bother, you and are too weak for this anyway. Let me just rest. As you should." She answered, her eyes already fluttering closed. Her breathing slowing into a steady rhythm of sleep.

My eyes flicked from the stone still in my hand, back to the corpse that refused to rot. Noting that the Ghost was staring at me from inside it's body. Flicking my eyes back to Rythia's, her body somehow felt like it didn't matter. As memory that wasn't mine filled my eyes. Chief Y'thi being given a stone and told to honor our dead with these stones. That the ritual would bind their souls to those stones so that Bhal wouldn't be able to steal them to power the Shadows mistakes. That the pathway down to the Great Mother's body should be hidden at all costs. I kissed his cheeks knowing that this would be the last time I would ever see him. I knew the first generations would fail to be bound to the stones, but it was to secure the future of those that came after us.