The pleasant warmth kisses her skin as gentle purring hums in her ears. A rough kitten tongue licks her hand and she runs her fingers through the soft striped fur. Her eyes meet flecks of shimmering stars inside the cobalt orbs; it captivates her washing warm tranquility over her. The rustling tall grass spits out a second striped cub who tumbles until he lands against her legs. Their excitement bubbles as playful growls beckon the other to wrestle in the leaves. They pounce, stumble, swat, and tumble over her as they try to incorporate her in their play.

“You’re definitely not my panther,” she giggles as wiggling tails tickle her bare feet. Wild grass shoots from the earth and tangles among the strange blooming wildflowers. Petals of colours she has never seen before flood the meadow. “And this isn’t Alexanderia.”

An echoing roar stirs magenta feathered birds into the cerulean sky. The cubs obey, ceasing their play and trudge through a path between the giant trees. Pushing aside the brush she follows and weaves between the ancient mossy trunks. Their twisting roots splay across the moss before burying deep into the earth.

The forest is alive with birds, zooming insects, and hairy creatures swinging through the trees. Under her are colourful beetles, bubbling streams, and turtles crawl over the forest floor. Whistling songbirds beckon her forward until the forest recedes; revealing a lush garden beside a mammoth stone wall.

Bustling sounds of a vibrant kingdom hum from the enclosure. Rooftops peek from over the wall and the aroma of exotic spices tickle her nose. A giant striped tiger steps through the brick wall, roars to her cubs then flops on the grass. The cubs chirp then race along the stone pathway to her side. Besides the tiger sits a beautiful woman, half the tiger's size, reading a book on a swing under a canopy of flowers.

Her pale face glimmers silver and her dark hair fans across the grass at her feet. Tiny jewels twinkle like stars among the onyx and silver locks. Her gown swirls with the purples and blues of perpetual twilight. Resting on her lap is a third cub, who purrs as she strokes his head. The cubs at her feet race across her hair; as she watches them meld into the strains the woman shrinks to average size.

Is this what I think it is?

“Paradise means something different to everyone. Here the worthy soul wanders in many worlds we create for them. Busy cities with throngs of people or sprawling landscapes to explore. What ever the heart desires.”

She remembers her mother’s love for the ocean and wonders whether she’s somewhere having a picnic on the seashore. A thought strikes her, one she hasn’t considered before. After all, every loved one left behind assumes their departed family will wait for them on the other side. Its what the priests promise, but standing before Paradise itself, she can’t help feeling a sense of dread. Its real, not like she doubted it, but its here. And the truth is, not every soul enters.

“Is my mother inside? Is she waiting for me?” The woman nods. She’s almost afraid to ask the next question: “is my father with her?”

“He arrived several hours ago.”

She sighs, its all he ever wanted. Now he can spend eternity with her without the loneliness from their separation.

“Do you know who I am Madame Mage?” She places a bookmark between the pages. Moira nods, remembering her likeness painted on the temple walls.

“According to scripture, you, Mother Goddess, are here to retrieve my soul.”

“I have many purposes. Tell me, Madame Mage, have you led a noble, honest, and moral life?”

“I lie to protect myself; I abandoned my family because I was afraid to face my problems. As for moral, according to Our laws, I shun our beliefs and am a threat to our world.” The Goddess nods with an expressionless face. The next question sounds rehearsed;

“The Oath you swore is Our Words and the Holy Law. Have you upheld our expectations during your short life?”

“I’ve tried to live with justice, peace, and respect of life, in my heart.”

“What regarding: ‘I will obey King and Council’?” She doesn’t answer. Disobedience is why they removed her from the Academy. It’s the reason her relationship with her father was strained for so long. “You act as a vigilante, pursuing your own justice. Do you agree?”

“Yes, although the Council prefers the term ‘radical.’” A smirk crosses Alona’s face.

“If you are willing to reject the Council you serve, what is to say you will not reject Us? Will you, Madame Mage, question the Gods?”

“Yes.” Why hold back, the situation can’t get any worse. Either they let her in or they don’t. “You say we are all your children; you promise you will love, care, and provide us with guidance. If that changes, I will question the system you promote. If I am unable to do so then I pray someone will.”

“You practiced that speech, haven’t you.”

“I spent most of my life defending myself to authorities.”

“It appears you have,” she flips through her book counting the marks in the ledger. She sighs, leaning into her swing, she pets the sleeping cub. “Your wounds are severe, your body grows weaker, yet there is a reason we stand outside the Kingdom of Paradise.” Blood drips on her bare toes, she touches Kipling’s fatal wound; how can something fatal be painless? Alona continues, “this is rather unusual for me to ask but tell me, my child, do you desire to die?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“No.” She remembers Sara’s contagious happiness. Nicole’s undying support. Chris’s easy-going nature and Zack’s steadfast sense of duty which shelters her in a storm. Tears threaten her eyes when she considers losing Eclipse guidance and love. But despite their tenderness and devotion, a shadow tugs at her heart.

“You shouldn’t lie, Madame Mage. Especially to me. You cheated death once before. I know your guilt for living, believing it is a mistake. The shadow whispers in your ear as you try to rectify a decision from the Gods. But Our decisions are law. You walk Our path, not the other way around."

The edges of her wound twinge and ache as she cups the blood spilling faster from her body. "There is no pain here,” she motions to the wound. “Without pain, there is no life. To be granted life is to accept this consequence. But suffering in silence is unnecessary. Pain is a consequence of life but in the end, if overcome, can bring great strength.” She stands, revealing her imposing presence of authority.

“I am called by many names. Mother Goddess, the Giver of Life, and at the same time the Angel of Death; the Retriever of Souls. But I am also a Dutiful Wife.”

She falls to her knees as shattering agony courses through her body. She trembles as she watches the blood trickle between her fingers. The tantalizing aromas fade and the vibrant colours dim to grey.

“It seems, at this time, my husband forbids me from taking your soul. Despite his request of temperate steadfastness, you prepared for war. However, you succeeded in protecting his namesake.” Her muffled words pound in her ears. “You earned his interest. I consider life too short for games but alas, he has what he desires. Until we meet again, Madame Mage.”

A searing burn tugs at the wound, travelling from her gut to the tips of her limbs. Every nerve ignites, flooding her with pain she’s never experienced before. Her own magic is soothing, calming, and energetic but this is different. Its distressing, erratic, and it pinches as it moves through her. The ground melts from under her, she slips through the spongy crater sinking into an abyss.

She screams until her throat is raw, swelling, until there’s no sound. In the silence she gives up, accepting the nothingness around her. She’s ready to remain for ever, never seeing Paradise or Alexanderia again. She’s accepted it, until something squeezes her hand.

“Good morning,” she hears Zack’s voice, “how do you feel?”

I’m alive? The burning is gone but the aches and pain remain. He squeezes her hand again, drawing her attention to him. He’s exhausted, there’s bruises on his head and face. But he’s alive.

“I feel like I’ve been trampled by a carriage.”

A lone candle at her bedside lights the space. His sunken face smiles at her. It is only them surrounded by walls of curtains.

“You’re back and that’s more important.”

“You aren’t sold on taking orders from Eclipse then?” Her plan worked, and her panther kept his side of the bargain.

“I prefer them to come from you.”

“What are our standings? Is everyone okay?”

“We are safe. Lollardum arrived and we overtook Bellavere's forces. We thought we lost you." You almost did. And she doesn’t know why she’s still here. The whole encounter felt real, the pain was real. But now, staring at him she isn’t so sure. “Should I tell Eclipse you’re awake?”

“He already knows,” she squeezes his hand and yawns.

“I’m glad you returned to us, sleep tight.”

When she awakes she’s in her bedroom and Eclipse sits beside her on a stool. His golden eyes meet hers and reality washes over her. What she did, the consequences, and how she survived it all to see him one more time. He was there. Not the cubs in the strange land. She isn't in the mud on the hilltop. She is safe, with him, as it always was.

“Hush,” he coos as tears tumble over her face, “all is well."

“I miss you,” she spits out before she loses her chance.

“And I you. Now, can you recover so Beckham will give me some peace?” She coughs as she laughs but her tears stop. “Now can we talk? No more tears?”

“I think I’m okay. You’re not going to reprimand me for being careless, are you?”

“In time, yes, but not at this instance. I received information a few days prior and I am at odds as to how to deal with the item in question. A body was recovered on the battlefield with glass shards beside it. I had more important concerns to attend to— with you indisposed— but I followed my instincts.”

“You’re rambling.”

“To my surprise the victim wasn't a soldier. It was a man in beggar attire, and had his throat sliced. The broken glass reveals the fragments of a flute. I managed to identify the body. But how do we tell Sara her father was alive all these months… but murdered outside the Gate?”

“Sara can’t know, at least not right now.”

“You insisted time and time again to not lie to her, and now you changed your mind?”

“She’s been through so much. Overcame much more. This may break her. To restart the grieving process is cruel.”

“You rather succumb to the comfort of a gentle lie? When she finds out she will resent you.” She closes her eyes against the stinging light from the candles. “Consider yourself warned. What of his body?”

“The decision is yours,” her head pounds, “you always do what’s best.”

“You are delirious, but your wish is mine to carry out.”

“Can we repair the flute?”

“Sadly no. Lady Sherwood informs me once the glass is broken it is unable to reach the appropriate pitches.”

“Very well, thank you Eclipse. For everything,” her body shudders under a chill, pulling a blanket to her chin she rolls over to sleep. He leaps from the stool, his padded feet step across the floor, and he speaks to someone.

Her fever grips her for the following days. Faces and voices blur together as candlelight switches to sunlight and back again. When she’s finally coherent, she opens her eyes to find Chris reading at her bedside. What kind of thief learns to read? She thought his literacy was a lie to woo women or to continue his rich lord persona. But she watches his thin pink lips mouth the words on the page. His eyes focus on her and he smiles.

“Good afternoon, Angel,” he closes the book.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I told you I can’t lie,” he winks. “You’re a remarkable woman, who else passes through the living realm, through death and return? You’re an angel, my angel.” He motions to the book in his hand, “I have the philosophers to prove it.”

“Quacks, I’m sure,” He helps adjust her pillows for her to sit upright. “Where is everyone?”

“Eclipse is busy doing his thing. Apparently, Beckham isn’t much better-taking orders from him than he is you. Since Sara hasn’t found her way in here today, I assume her lesson is interesting enough for her to stay in class to learn it.”

“Where’s Zack?”

“He’s in Bellavere, with his knights and some of your army,”

“Why?”

“Before you freak out, remember he’s just following orders,”

“Whose orders?”

“Who’d you think?”

“Why did he send my army to attack Bellavere?”

“We aren’t attacking, per se, think of it as assisting to reclaim property.”

“Ah. Nicole returned to reclaim Bellavere from Margaret.”

“Your kitten’s feisty; she was pretty determined to set it right. Eclipse thought if you knew you’ll follow. But according to Zack’s report the other day they have everything under control, so they don’t need you.”

“I want to read it.”

“Thought you’ll say that” pulling a rolled parchment from his coat, “here you go, fresh off the General’s desk. But if anyone asks you didn’t get it from me.”