The Harvest Moon Consortium

[Winterhawk99]

Meeting Velcar

Another divine messenger appeared, this time under the half-completed roof of the temple. Inwardly Caland smiled. If this keeps up, I will be on a first-name basis with many of the Arvandorian angels. They exchanged bows and Caland knelt before her as she spoke in high elven.

“Caland of Twomoon, I have a message from Aerdrie herself. One of her people is trapped in the lair of a demon. This demon eats her soul slowly, week by week. The avariel is near her end unless help is afforded to her.” Ilthara! Is that what happened to you? Ellidy had mentioned Ilthara was last seen flying off with another Avariel before her disappearance. “You will find this lair in the mountains deep within a tangled forest--”

Caland stood, interrupting her. “I cannot wait, then. I must be off.”

They exchanged bows again and the angel gave one last ominous statement, “It is now up to you. It is now known she is in trouble and can be saved,”

He barely heard her as he took off through the skylight in the roof, leaving behind what little heat there was in the temple for the unnatural, bitter cold. He flew as straight as he could towards the forest known as the Vales of Ebony. It was extremely rude to interrupt a divine being, but souls were at stake.

The forest posed few problems to him as he flew over the trees, searching for landmarks. At last he landed near a lake he had been to before. He had not explored beyond it, but the mountains grew to the north. The place was surprisingly warm. It felt like the summer it was supposed to be in the world, in fact. He followed a path, stepping as stealthily as he could, moving slowly and staying off the path, behind vegetation cover.

A high cliff face cut off any travel to the north, so the path bent east and there were four female statues arrayed about it. Caland recognized none, so he continued east, toward a stream. He heard splashing, so he ducked down and belly-crawled through the grass, keeping his wings folded as tightly as possible. He peeked over a ledge to see what almost appeared to be a tiefling washing his hands in the water below. The creature was dressed in a fancy but eccentric shirt and jacket, and he had the high-kneed, reverse-jointed legs of a demon, although he had bird wings sprouting from his back. His skin was pale and he had a strangely sadistic smile on his face. The demon stood and flicked water from his hands before walking northeast, towards a cave in the stone face of the cliff.

After he disappeared into the cave, Caland glanced around. There was a cabin straight east, just south of the cave, but little else of note in the valley. He jumped across the stream and snuck towards the cabin, peeking in the window. There was a bed in the room he faced, and raven-black, avariel feathers lay upon the bedsheets.

A wave of despair hit him, and it took him a moment to gather his wits before turning to the cave. On his stomach again, he crawled to the cave entrance and glanced inside. Everything looked dark, so after a silent prayer to the Seldarine, he moved up into a crouch and waddled in, ready.

He was immediately attacked by perhaps twenty ghosts of women. His gloves had been enchanted with magic, so he could strike them down. After the fight, he stopped to think. This demon has killed many women, and he seems to have command over their souls yet. By nearly every definition this place is evil. A movement to the left of the entrance caught his eye and made him duck into a ready stance.

There was a dwarven woman impaled upon spears. By all rights she should have been dead, but she struggled against the spears, grasping out at Caland. He tried to reason with her, but she seemed to have no mental capacities left, so he killed her in an attempt to release her soul. He broke down and sobbed at the evil of the place, then murmured a quick prayer for the departed souls.

A deep, male voice resonated through the cave, causing Caland to jump into a stance again, “Now that wasn’t very nice. It will take me days to fix the damage.” The voice came from a hole in a corner of the cave, and Caland peeked in. The hole was a tunnel, and it twisted out of sight about four wingspans from him.

He glanced back at the body lying mangled in the spears and looked back at the tunnel. He returned to the dwarf, broke the spears, and dropped her body in his bag of holding. He then collected three more bodies that were lying in a pile by the tunnel and put them in with the dwarf. He shall not have these again.

As he walked into the tunnel, half of a dozen more female ghosts attacked him, and he dealt with them as he did the ones before. He continued, the stench of decay growing stronger.

The tunnel opened up into a cavern, murky green water filling in around a twisted stone path. The scene was even more horrid than the last. Two dead women hung from a pair of crucifixes over the water, and another hung from a rope around her neck. There were bodies piled in the shallow parts of the water, and strange glowing devices lit the cavern from a ledge on the other side of the water. Two women stood at different ends of the ledge, both unmoving and pale as death. The stench of decay was now overpowering.

Caland walked along the path, collecting bodies and dropping them in his bag of holding. The ledge was perhaps six wingspans wide and two deep, away from the water. A bookcase was in the center with two stacks of books on either side and a table with instruments just to the right. There were two slates in the center of the right half of the cave with a carpet between; all three had a cloth-covered body on it. There was a row of glowing tubes along the water’s edge, each large enough to fit a person in. A beautiful elven woman stood here, her eyes seeming to follow Caland, so he approached her. There was a hole in her forehead, and only her eyes seemed to move. He could think of nothing to say, so he stared.

“Isn’t she lovely?” the voice murmured behind Caland.

He spun around and found himself face to face with the demon. “You!”

The creature did not even look at him, instead looking at the woman. “They call her a rider.”

Caland swallowed his disgust and managed to croak out one word, “Why?”

“Riders are virgin protectors of the elven wood. They rode unicorns long ago. Sadly, they and their mounts are all gone and dead,” the creature gave a sad sigh, but his face showed no sadness, only madness. “I preserved this perfect specimen that found its way to me for ohhhh... five hundred years now. She cuts a lovely figure, does she not?”

“This is no elven wood. Would not the story be better if told in pictures and text?”

“Ah, but I still have her. Her soul, or what’s left of it, is mine now.”

“Why would you want her soul?”

“Well, my brethren devour souls. They are our lifeblood; we starve without them.”

He turned back to the girl. “I only take them down to the barest of being, then preserve them. Call it the perfect harem; they are still functional.”

Caland breathed slowly and counted to himself to think clearly. The demon turned to him again, “But she is not what you came for, is she?”

He found a shield from this horror at last; his faith would shield his emotions. “Redemption will change your existence. You will not feel tortured.”

A muffled voice sounded from the body lying on the carpet, “Caland?” His heart rose into his throat as he glanced back the sheet over Ilthara. The demon continued, ignoring this.

“Redemption? Ha! There is no redemption for me.”

Caland turned to him, “There is redemption for even fallen angels.”

“I am an incubus thrown out of the abyss for being too deviant! I ate the souls of succubae!” He laughed and went over to Ilthara, pulling the cloth from her.

“I can imagine this is what you are looking for?”

Caland kept his voice steady. “I seek her, yes.”

“I haven’t removed any organs yet. You can get her back. She still breathes. All my perfect girls still breath.” He almost sounded tender in his pride.

Caland’s shield kept his emotions cool. “If you will not seek redemption, I will be forced to end your existence here.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh?”

“And many have tried. I’ll just reanimate ten, fifty, a hundred years from now--perhaps even days.”

“Then your only option is redemption.”

“Why would I give up the perfect life?”

“Is it perfect? Do you truly call this perfect?!?” Anger began to seep through the shield in his mind.

“I have my women, I feed well--”

“You have nothing!”

“--and I preserve the most magnificent women in history.”

“As they would never want it!”

The incubus turned back to Ilthara and smiled, “And such a fine specimen of an avariel.”

He looked back up at Caland. “The question is: what can you do for me?”

“I can give you freedom. I can teach you new ways.”

“And how would I feed, hmmm?”

“Eilistraee can change her drow so sunlight will not harm them,” The demon gave a derogatory snort at this but Caland continued, “If you follow one of the gods of the heavens, it may grant you a change, also.”

“I have a better idea,” the demon said, then turned to a metal device that almost looked like a desk with panes of glass sticking from it and sections arranged into tiny squares with symbols on each one. As he had his back turned, Caland took aim and delivered the strongest kidney-blow he could. The demon barely looked up as he worked the controls.

“Please...” he said, both sounding amused and annoyed. “Do you think I would be that stupid?”

Caland cast about and saw a safe near one wall. He pulled on it and found it was unlocked, so he opened it. Digging through, he looked for anything that could be used as a soul cage, but there was nothing but little pieces of junk.

“I keep their souls in wedding veils,” The demon said, seeming to read his mind. “Here, come.” With nothing else he could do, Caland came and looked. A beautiful blonde-haired human appeared on one of the planes of glass. She looked just like one of the statues littering the path outside.

“I knew I had it here. Do you know who this is, young avariel?” Caland answered by smashing the screen, followed by the controls, but the demon merely shook his head.

“It is a woman, or once was a woman, named Elpis.”

Elpis, the priestess of Sune and a medusa, although Caland heard she once was human. Caland assumed the device was used for reading the souls in veils when he answered, “No. She is alive. I saw her.”

Ilthara seemed to move slightly and Caland looked at her.

The demon spoke, “You can have your avariel if you do me one favor. Elpis will again become human once she attracts 100 followers.”

“Deals with demons are by far worse than deals with devils.”

“When that time comes, you are to come to m--” Caland interrupted by grabbing his arm and yanking it forward, past his head. He was about to drive his other hand into the elbow and break it, but unsurprisingly, the demon had superhuman reflexes and managed to dodge, causing the two of them to tumble to the floor. The demon began cast a spell and began to fade away, but Caland managed to drive his knee, with a full ki yell, into the demon’s groin first.


He stood up and looked around for the creature. It seemed his hold over Ilthara faded as he did, for she stood up and looked around, as if in a fog. Relief flooded him, erasing his shield of religion for a moment.

“Ilthara! Oh, Ilthara!” A glance at his surroundings managed to bring the shield back, however. “Do you remember anything, Ilthara?”

“I remember too much, I think.”

“Do you know where the veils are?”

“No,” She frowned in concentration.

They turned things inside out, looking for veils, but found none. They then began searching though the books for any mention of veils. Caland took one on trapping souls, a plan beginning to form in his mind. When Ilthara has her soul back, and all the other women theirs, I will end you, demon.

Through all the books, the two found no notes about where the demon kept the souls, but they turned back to the girl with a hole in her forhead.

“My lady, can you hear us?” Caland asked.

The girl only blinked.

“My lady?”

Blink.

He eyed the hole in her head. “Can you speak, or at least nod?”

She mouthed something, but neither he nor Ilthara knew what.

“Please help me,” Ilthara said. “I’ll help you if I can.”

The girl struggled to lift her hand but managed to point at the bookshelf.

Caland’s intuition told him to pull out a book labeled Ethereal Beings by Lenox Morkata.

“Speaking with the Living Dead phenomena...” Ilthara said as she read.

Caland stopped a moment to look at her; she looked pale. He took her wrist; she felt cold and had a weak pulse.

“I don’t think I’m dead yet,” she said. Let us hope you are not undead, too.

They turned back to reading. “How do we speak to the living dead? Hmmm. There are several incantations here,” Ilthara said.

“I can move into the ethereal plane. That might help,” Caland suggested. Some monks found this ability from working with Ki so much. Caland was one of these. “But who is there to speak with?”

“Caland, I think I might need to go to the Land of the Dead.”

“Ilthara...” This did not sound at all like a good idea.

“These women are in both places at once, and the judge of the dead has sway over them.”

“I can bring you back under normal conditions, but I have no idea what the veil does. And how will I know when to bring you back?”

“Let me see if there are any other choices.” She went back to reading.

Caland concentrated, relaxed, and moved into the ethereal plane. He found himself surrounded by hundreds of women. “Can you help us? We may be able to free you if you help us”

They looked at Caland and surrounded him, pawing at him. Some mentioned names. Some asked for him to kill them once more. By all that is holy! He dropped back to the Prime Material plane and staggered.

“There’s a spell, but I still need permission,” Ilthara said, then looked up from the book. “Are you all right?”

“Ilthara, there are hundreds of ghosts of women around us now. I believe they a re still infatuated with that thing.”

“I don’t see how they could be. I would like to eat his heart.”

Caland stared at her.

“I’m sorry. I am so angry I would.”

He moved on. “From whom would you need permission?”

“I assume the judge of the dead. Do necromancers have to go through this stuff?”

“I know very little about necromancy.”

The elf by the tubes moved slightly, so they went back to her. She lifted her arm slightly and mouthed the word “cut.” It looked like she was straining hard to move. Caland looked to see if she was pointing at anything, but she wasn’t.

“Cut?” Ilthara asked.

The woman blinked.

“What do you want us to cut, please?”

Caland pointed at the glass and looked at the former maiden inquisitively. She tried to lift her arm.

“Do you want us to cut you?” Ilthara asked. Who could know what someone in that state would want? “Or do you want me to cut my arm?”

“Draw blood?” Caland asked.

Blink.

“Do you blink once to say yes?”

Blink.

“Do you blink twice to say no?”

Blink.

“The incantation to go to the land of the dead requires a blood circle,” Ilthara said. That must be what the girl meant by cutting.

“Could you blink twice now, please?” Caland asked the girl.

Blink, blink.

He placed a smile on his face, “She is responsive, then.” He was afraid her blinking was random.

“Do we need to do that incantation to get the veils back?” Ilthara asked her.

Blink.

“If I can find yours I will return it to you, I promise,” Ilthara said to the woman.

“I still have plenty of my blood, Ilthara,” Caland said, then looked at the girl. “Will my blood work for the circle?”

Blink.

Good. We can’t risk Ilthara losing blood. “Does it require any place in particular, Ilthara?”

The girl blinked twice.

“I think we can do it by the book shelves,” Ilthara said.

Caland got a dagger from Ilthara and was about to get a bandage ready when the demon’s voice echoed through the cavern.

“Come, Fennel. I have need of your comfort.” With that, the elven woman disappeared.

There was nothing else to do but go on, so they did. Caland dripped a small circle, just big enough for both of them, and spread it with his foot. Ilthara read the incantation and they found themselves pulled elsewhere.


There was a heavy, red fog surrounding everything and a jagged landscape. There was a door to a building carved crudely out of stone nearby, and a robed, hooded man with a scythe was walking to them from the door. “The living at my door: how refreshing. What do the living want in the Land of the Dead?”

Ilthara explained what her situation was, and the Reaper laughed, saying the incubus’s name was Velcar. Velcar apparently brought souls of his victims to the Reaper in exchange for being able to do atrocities to the ones he kept.

This must be an imposter, for legends tell that Kelemvor watches over the dead. Although he is far from kind, he is nevertheless fair. This being is obviously not him; let us see who he is. “Master, are you Hades also known as Pluto?”

“I am Nurell the Reaper, god of the dead.” Caland had never heard of him before. On Faerûn, Jergal watched over the dead for aeons, until he could stand it no longer and gave the throne to Myrkul. Myrkul then died in the Time of Troubles with Cyric assuming rights over the dead. Cyric was then killed by Kelemvor Lyonsbane, a mortal with a noble heart who changed the laws so the righteous dead would be treated better, until the other gods charged him with Incompetence by Humanity. The creature before them seemed more like Myrkul or Cyric, toying with the souls and following no laws but his own.

Caland thought on this while Ilthara began bartering for a chance to speak with the dead women Velcar left behind. Nurell wanted Ilthara as his own if she did not win back her soul. No! A wave of fear hit him, but he suppressed it.

“What of this: If she loses, I come here and she is free?”

“A fair deal, “Nurell said. “I would accept this deal. What say you both?”

Ilthara turned to Caland. “Caland. If I don't win my soul back, I'm returning here of my own will. I will never be Velcar's bride.”

“Then your soul will be mine,” Nurell said. Was he almost cheerful about it? He should not own her.

“By free, I mean free from Velcar, too.” Substituting his soul for hers.

“I can't purchase my freedom at the price of yours, Caland.”

“But I can,” Caland turned back to the Reaper, who was looking at a pocket watch.

“I have already found out what it's like to be a thing, with no choices,” Ilthara said.

Caland ignored her as best he could, “Is not the realm of death divided in three?”

“It is divided into many realms.”

“The legend of Bhaal and his two brothers states that one will watch the dead, one will watch death, and one will watch those not dead.”

“You are not on Faerûn anymore, mortal.”

“As you wish.,” Caland said, steeling himself for his next comment. “I still believe you overstate your authority, master.”

“Do not overestimate yourself in the presence of the divine mortal. I can rip your soul easily from you now.”

His feathers were standing on end but he maintained his calm as best he could, “If Labelas Enoreth thinks it is my time to end, then it is his decision.”

Ilthara saved him, “If I can't get my soul back, I'll return here. Give us permission, please.”

“So be it,” The Reaper said.

Caland backed down. He bowed and appologized to Nurell, then stood behind Ilthara to support her. This was her fight. He should only have tried to help when she asked for it.

Nurell walked forward and traced a mark on her forehead. “The sign will leave if you win your soul back,” he said before making an incantation.

Sadness hit Caland as he watched the deal his friend was forced to make. There was nothing he could do, so he simply squeezed her shoulder.

“You now have access to the spell of Speak with Dead. Use it wisely, for I hear every word the dead speak.”

Ilthara thanked him and Caland bowed his head as Nurell turned and walked away.”

“I do not like this one bit,” Caland probably did not need to say that for her to know.

“I can't say I'm pleased either,” She responded, and they found themselves being pulled back to Velcar’s cave. “Thank you, Caland, for finding me.”

She was a precious friend, but Caland would have done this for anyone; the Knight in Shining Armor image would be a deception. “It was my duty.”

“It was your kindness, I think.”

“Ellidy told me a funny story she heard about you flying off with another Avariel. An Arvandorian Angel told me you were at the mercy of this... demon.”

“He disguised himself; he changes shape to suit his victims, apparently.”

They stopped and looked around, both of their eyes drawn to the tubes where Fennel was standing before. “She's still gone, poor girl,” Ilthara said.

On with business; the sooner out of this place, the better. “I believe this spell can only be cast upon a corpse.”

Ilthara got a dark look in her eyes. “There’s no shortage.”

Caland opened up his bag of holding and took out the most recent-looking of the bodies he dropped in earlier. “I collected all I could find. They will be buried far, far away from this place.” He placed it on the stone cave floor in the most dignified way he could.

“Well,” Ilthara took a deep breath and began the incantation. “In darkness I call you. From darkness I call you. May your voice speak fresh and clear. May your voice speak truth.”

The body seemed to shift and become animated; a life returned to it, almost making it appear more alive than Ilthara, while at the same time looking more dead. Caland watched in morbid fascination as the blue lips began to move.

“Who calls Beatrice from the dead? Where is Velcar, the wonderful man—man of my heart?” She said it in a truly tender way that made Caland’s feathers ruffle again. He gave Ilthara a warning look. Let us hope she does not try to convince the poor soul what Velcar really is.

“Beatrice, my sister, I seek my veil,” The body locked eyes with Ilthara. “Where may I find it, dear Beatrice?”

“Where may you find what, Maiden of Velcar?” Maiden! How can that possibly be said after what he did to her? Caland unclenched his fists.

“My veil, Beatrice.”

The unblinking stare of the corpse seemed to turn into one of rage. “You have a veil... while I was thrown away like some doll!”

“Please, dear Beatrice,” Ilthara pleaded. How does she remain cool with a corpse staring at her like that?

“What makes you so special?” Beatrice seemed to get even more angry.

“I am not beautiful like you,” Ilthara tried.

It looked like there was a mental struggle between the two, so Caland hastily spoke, “I can give you release if you wish, Beatrice.” It seemed to do nothing, but after a few seconds the soul within the corpse relaxed and her eyes softened.

“Please, dear Beatrice, you are in my heart now, forever.”

“Strong-willed bride, the veils are in a city under the earth, frozen in time.”

“What is the name of the city, Beatrice, and where can we find it?”

“A city under the reign of another like Velcar: a demon that thinks itself a god of leatherwings,” Beatrice spoke.

Caland spoke up again, “There is a city under the earth not far from here. There are gargoyles in that city.” He then leaned over to Ilthara and whispered, “Should we ask how to release her?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, then raised her voice, “Beatrice, how may we release you if you desire release?”

“Release... Yes, I would be released; my heart has thrown me away. Take my bones to the volcano and set them in a lava pool. That will release me.”

“Then we will do so.”

“Be aware: each has their own way of release?”

“Is there any further help or advice you can give us, dear Beatrice?” Ilthara asked, but too late. The spell faded, and with it any life from the corpse before them.

Ilthara gave Caland a length of cloth to wrap the body separately from the others. “Poor girl,” she said as she sadly watched him wrap and return the body into his Bag of Holding. “Is the city near?”

“Yes. It is very dangerous though. The creatures have the ability to turn people into stone.”

“I can’t use any of my weapons, except a sling I picked up.”

Caland’s focus turned completely to her now. Please, Seldarine, let us finish this; we are so close to her freedom. “Are you weak?”

“I feel much better than I did, but I’ve lost a lot, I’m afraid.” The anxiety within him turned to relief as she spoke.

“We must find the veils soon. Do you think you will be able to feel when they are close?”

“I hope so. It seems as though I ought to be able to feel my own soul.”

Caland nodded to that. “If there is fighting, stay back, please.”

“All right.”

“Your sling will be enough.”

They left the cave and Caland was as aware of everything as he could possibly be, eyes open to his widest, ears hearing all he could. He ducked into the grass and scanned the area for Velcar, but the demon was nowhere to be seen. They continued on towards the lake Caland had seen earlier, and Caland saw what looked like a floating eyeball with wings watching them. He flew up and knocked it out of the air with a wing, then crushed it between his boot and a rock.

“A wizard’s eye.” Velcar’s spy. “We should move fast, but beware the plants in the forest.”

They traveled through the twisting wood, walking because Caland thought Ilthara was too weak to fly. However, she did seem to gain strength as they walked, and the two were able to fly past a group of gargoyle sentries. They kept low as they flew over the trees, and after a few moments, over half-buried rooftops. Unfortunately, one of the gargoyles had summoned a dire bear, which jumped up and swatted Ilthara out of the air; she was dead a second later. Caland’s heart and stomach fought for a place in his throat.


He killed the bear and then killed the gargoyles nearby. In thanks for saving her from the Keeper, Metra had given him the power rivaling that of many high-ranking priests: he could call souls back to their bodies. Ilthara’s soul was trapped elsewhere, but Caland hoped this would still bring her body back to life. He knelt before her and put his hands on her head, concentrating. Half-life returned to her and after a moment they flew onwards into the entrance to the city.

Claustrophobia immediately hit him, but he relaxed and thought where they would look. Velcar had said the device he had was Irda in design, so Caland thought perhaps it was associated with the mage tower. They walked through the alleys and encountered more gargoyles, which nearly turned them to stone; Caland felt the magic graze him multiple times. They doubled back and tried another route, which seemed just as fruitless. There seemed to be no way past to go deeper into the city without finding more gargoyles.

“This seems nearly impossible,” Caland said, frustrated.

“It does.”

With that, a wind seemed to sweep through, but no dust was raised from the floor. “Impossible. Nothing is impossible, yes. Defeating a god impossible, ummm...” It sounded a lot like Ammothrawen Henner. Caland smiled inside.

They went back north. Apparently the gargoyles were not good at tactics, and after they killed one in an alley, the others would come, one at a time, to investigate why the previous one did not come back out.

Ilthara felt her soul in a direction different from the mage tower, and they traveled towards the ancient docks, dry for aeons. There was a tower with a magical beacon upon it that they flew up to. What almost looked like green flames hovered over a bowl that Ilthara reached into. She seemed to take a shock, and suddenly she looked very much... alive.

Caland felt around the bowl for more veils, but found nothing. It had looked like Ilthara was touching a piece of cloth, but it disappeared.

“I have two extra souls, I think,” she said, her voice seeming to hold more than before. “I have to find a way to give these extras back or I think it might get very crowded in my head. Thank you Caland.”

He took her wrist and felt. Her pulse was strong and she was warm. Oh, thank all the gods! He gave her a fierce hug, wrapping his wings around, too.

Caland spoke as he released her, “You’re fully alive. Now let’s do as you say.”

Another wind seemed to pick up around them, and the landscape changed from a cavern to a cliff in the northern mountains. The warmth of the earth faded to the thin air and bitter cold of high altitude. Nevertheless, it was still beautiful.

A blue light shone down from the heavens, and Ammothrawen seemed to materialize from it. Caland and Ilthara exchanged bows with her.

The elder fey’ri looked at him. “You makes all in heavens prouds Calands of Two Moons, yes?” Yets yous has one mores task to completes.”

“Ilthara was at least half the job,” He winced inwardly. She did at least half the effort. It would be rude to correct yourself in front of a divine messenger, however.

“Yous journeys has changes.”

“Yes. I have two souls along with mine, lady. How may I return them?”

“Yous must finds these things on yous owns journeys,” the messenger said, then looked back at Caland with her eyes of fire. “Yous, Calands, do nots reverence Bahamuts, but I respects yous bravery.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Yous will haves a visitors soons from Arvandors. They wills bes yous guides.” Even more? I used to pray to be noticed; now they come one after the next.

Ammothrawen bowed again, and Ilthara and Caland bowed back. “Farewell, Lady Henner.”

That was enough; Caland was exhausted, and Ilthara couldn’t be in any better shape than he. There was a good spot for a campfire nearby, where the rock wall rose steeply again from the cliff they stood on. Caland sat and wrapped his wings around himself, falling asleep, thinking of the cliffs and cold of home, attempting to push out all thoughts of the horrors he witnessed.


Story by Mictue