When the Fallen Seek the Truth

27th Day of Ojo Didi in the Fourth Month of Snow’s Fall

4380 A.G.G. (253 Years Ago; Mundus Reckoning)

Raröԋӕnga, The Grove Holdfast

The Eighth Territory of the Dæmönic Plains of Brŭmal

It should be understood that some of the following passages may not be entirely accurate as they weren’t transcribed as they were spoken. They’ve been translated here for ease of reading. Because of this, unfortunately, some things may be lost in the translation from the original Dæmönic to common.

Translated passages will be indicated by the use of bold print.

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Tįlåtħ

“I’m telling you My Soul, there’s something…different about him. Something strange. More so than what Lumå’įl would have us believe.”

The thoughts that had been running through Tįlåtħ’s head since she came in contact with my spirit had been nerve racking to her. She hadn’t been sure exactly what she should do. She knew only that she needed to speak with her confidant. Unbeknownst to me, I’d inadvertently caused her to question what it was that she was dealing with and what Lumå’įl was wrapping them all up in.

And that lack of knowledge was starting to impart onto her a sense of betrayal.

“First They hide him from us,” she continued, “then once I sought him out as They asked of me, I felt…I felt…”

“You felt what?”

“By Brŭmal! I don’t know what I felt. But he’s definitely not human.”

A lovely day had graced the lands of Raröԋӕnga. As lovely as a day there could be anyway. And taking advantage of it, Tįlåtħ and Dåÿvįåd decided to walk leisurely through one of the outlying holdfasts of the land. You could’ve almost called it warm. Lumå’įl must’ve been of a chipper mood.

Not surprising given the promise of what was to come.

Even though the snow flurries which were a near constant in Raröԋӕnga had ceased falling the day prior and the skies were cloudy and darkened, they were still clear enough to almost be considered…cheery. A light layer of snow covered everything in sight; from the low, slightly crumbling walls that gently hugged most of the rural hamlet that she and Dåÿvįåd now walked through, to the slightly frozen streams that flowed throughout.

“You think him to be an Ångëlic or some such? Long lost mayhap? Maybe a muse forgotten to the long years since we’ve been home?” Dåÿvįåd asked.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe that. But he feels far too wrong to be one. He’s too restless. Parts of him even felt angry. Empty. No my dear. He feels…almost like one of us.”

The look on Dåÿvįåd’s face told Tįlåtħ that he was struggling to accept what she was saying. And the next question he asked seemed to be tailored to get her to confirm what she’d said; to lay it plain.

“So, you mean to say that you think he’s a Dæmön?”

“No. I mean to say that he feels like us. He feels Fallen.”

Dåÿvįåd stopped walking and looked deeply into her misty white flaked eyes. Rarely did he get this focused with her. Questioning what she presented to him. But she could hardly blame him. The very idea seemed preposterous and were their situations reversed, she’d question it too.

“Have you ever known me to mince words or speak too quickly?” she asked. “Samahdemn, whoever he is to Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ, is meant for more than we thought. Something else is going on here other than just going home again.”

“I don’t get it. If that’s the case, why the rigamarole? Why the subterfuge? Why didn’t they just tell us what’s on their minds from the start?”

“I don’t know. But I know what I felt Dåÿvįåd.”

“Forgive me. I’m not trying to question... But you know how this sounds. Yes?”

“I’m well aware my dear. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

He resumed walking through the snow and Tįlåtħ trailed close behind him.

“Where are you going with this?” he asked. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“It should’ve been impossible to miss him Dåÿvįåd. Yet...”

“We knew he was being masked.”

“Of course. But to such an extent? It’s like hiding the White Tree. His soul practically glows. When I was close to him…it was like tripping over a building. You run into the wall and wonder how you didn’t see it coming in the first place.”

He nearly scoffed. “Love, our Lord gave us every warning. And Så’Ħdënåħ-”

“Yes. We all knew he was odd. And I’m telling you there’s more to this. And they knew it. I felt it.”

Dåÿvįåd wouldn’t talk to her for a long while as he led her aimlessly about the hamlet. She knew that he was letting her words stew in the silence. And she passed the time listening to the snow crunching under their feet as they walked. Down cracked cobblestone paths. Around quiet bends. Down sporadic sets of lonely steps.

She watched as Dæmöns of all former walks of life moved about them; oddly happier than normal and thankful for the lack of falling snow; covered in heavy coats and warm looking boots; a stark contrast to the hole-ridden blankets and damp, dirty shawls utilized by the poor inhabitants of Brŭmal’s lower plains of existence.

Even an incrassated man laughs from time to time. the Drågoon postulated to herself.

“Okay.” he said. “What exactly did you feel?”

The Dark Drågoon shook her head. “I wish I knew. I wish I could tell you. But I can’t put my finger on it. Not yet. But there’s a reason that he has an affinity for heka even though that living machine inside of him should have left him dead to the Flow. I’m certain that…”

The words got hung up in Tįlåtħ’s head; unwilling to pass freely from between her lips.

“Certain that what?” her paramour queried.

“They asked me and me alone to go. Refused Kå’Såbåstįånnë her request to come with me. I think that they knew what I’d find and they trusted enough in me to believe I’d keep it silent. They wanted to keep the true nature of Samahdemn’s spirit as quiet as possible.

“Dåÿvįåd, They’re hiding something from us.”

Dåÿvįåd stopped abruptly, almost causing Tįlåtħ to run into his back. He turned his gaze to her. His general. His lover. And she watched him closely as his smoky eyes narrowed and his wide nostrils flared.

And it was such a nice day… she thought sadly.

“Stop, and think carefully about what you’re saying Tįlåtħ. And about how you’ll answer my next question. I’m only going to ask you this once. And I’ll need you to be perfectly clear. What exactly are you implying?”

She hated to see him like this. Furious at her for telling the truth. Blinded by loyalty to a leader that she was no longer sure they could trust. The last thing she wanted was for hatred to be the final emotion she felt from him.

Tįlåtħ breathed deeply, stood her ground and said- “You heard me. Lumå’įl lied to us.”

The statement must have been like a thrown stone to his gut. She knew that a thousand thoughts were likely flying through Dåÿvįåd’s head at once, and she doubted that any of them were good.

The Fallen Ǻngël grabbed Tįlåtħ’s arm angrily, and looked about almost fearfully. As if hoping that there were none about them that overheard what she was saying.

The trees were bare and silent. The low lying bushes were in shambles, showcasing that there were none lurking among them. The murky windows on the surrounding deteriorating houses were empty of prying eyes. Several natives walked about, but none of them seemed to be paying any particular attention to the couple. Most seemed to be actively doing the exact opposite; struggling not to hear. They wanted to be caught overhearing nothing that came from the mouths of Fallen unless it were focused at them directly. Probably even less so then.

“Foolish woman!” he spat at her between his teeth.

Shy of a two hundred meters from them, Dåÿvįåd spied a small split-level homestead; more of a cottage really. A dwelling that had obviously been handed down over and over again through the millennia with no one dæmön or Fallen ever retaining ownership for any number of reasons.

Weak smoke wafted from its ruined chimney into the chilly air, and near its front door stood two Dæmöns; bundled warmly as they could be as they attempted to find some enjoyment in the out-of-doors. They quickly averted their eyes as the two generals approached and neither of them halted Dåÿvįåd as he pulled his woman out of the elements and into the old chalet.

Inside, the furnishings were sparse and simple, yet still elegant despite their age and wear. The walls were cracked; no longer aligned with themselves and they did little to keep out the cold as the wind whistled right through them.

A small fire burned within a very sad looking fireplace that almost seemed too small for the wall it occupied. Huddled beside it for warmth sat two more beings; one was an elderly looking man and the other a young boy who looked as though he hadn’t seen his thirteenth year before his death on Mundus.

“Who else lies within?” Dåÿvįåd demanded of the two as he appeared from what was once a formal entranceway, walking briskly with Tįlåtħ still in tow; the dead plants that decorated the space dropping dry leaves at their passing.

“N…no one, my Lord.” the old man said with a start. Nervousness seemed to have locked his eyes in place; he couldn’t help but look directly into Dåÿvįåd’s gaze. How long the boy had resided in the plains and whether he yet fully understood Dæmönic was anyone’s guess, but he looked like he might wet himself from fear nonetheless.

“Leave us!” Dåÿvįåd couldn’t mask the emotion in his voice. The old man grabbed the boy and the two dæmöns ran out without a second thought. Most likely glad that a few moments in the cold was all that they had to endure of the legendary Dark Drågoon’s wrath.

Tįlåtħ, in the meantime, had no idea if Dåÿvįåd intended to scold her for voicing her thoughts, or strike her for turning against their God. He’d always been Lumå’įl’s greatest voice of support. He was a believer. Even during the times when Tįlåtħ herself faltered, he hadn’t. When they fell after their defeat in the Great Rebellion, he held strong. Dåÿvįåd was her rock, even though she didn’t think that he realized exactly how much. And He was the only one she trusted.

Trusted and loved above all.

She’d been a part of him for so long and they’d been through so much together. They’d both loved the world together, and likewise nearly destroyed it together. She was with him when he was born into Drågoonhood. And when she saw him change for the first time…he was so beautiful to her that she remembered being moved to tears. All she had in the hell that had become her existence was him.

The thought of losing him now…of him turning his back on her, leaving her, no longer wanting her…it was decimating. It ripped at her. Tore at her soul. It drug her under and left her unable to breathe inside.

Standing here now, before him, the thought that this could be the last time that he speaks to her, in this manner…it brought her nearly to the edge of tears.

But, on the other hand, Tįlåtħ had never been one to shirk what she was due. And if this was where her choice was to lead her, then so be it. She was resigned to it. And if he couldn’t be with her now, it was best that she know.

She found her back being roughly pushed against the wall near the crumbling fireplace. But not so much that it caused her any pain; her lover restraining himself. She calmly searched his smoky black eyes for verification of acceptance or denial, and found only a mask of anger within their bronze flakes.

He was practically seething. Warm air from his wide nostrils blew out into the cold air in strong, controlled gusts of vapor, giving him the appearance of some manner of beast from mortal fables.

Even in the midst of his anger, Tįlåtħ doubted that he’d raise his hand against her. Or, at least, she hoped he’d not. She’d not let a strike go unanswered. She couldn’t. She wasn’t some mortal child that she’d simply turn over and take a beating; even from one such as her beloved Dåÿvįåd. Especially from Dåÿvįåd. Outside of when he bedded her, when she asked for it, he’d never hurt her. And even then, he’d always ask for permission, or wait until she asked him for what she wanted. And he was always caring and thoughtful in those actions. But he was so on edge now…

True to Them, or true to me. she thought to herself. Them…or me.

Within the time it took for her to blink, his eyes had transitioned into furious glowing suns. And she knew in that moment that he’d made up his mind. The mask dropped, and with a speed and fury that could only be mustered by the Dįvįnëlÿ born, Dåÿvįåd slammed his fist into the wall mere inches from Tįlåtħ’s face; splintering the ancient stone work. Twice more did he repeat the action before yelling- “Damn it Tįlåtħ! You put me in an impossible place! What you’re saying is borderline... I can’t even bring myself to express it.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Tįlåtħ breathed an internal sigh of relief. She’d never been so happy to be so wrong. She took her hands and gently cupped the back of his horns, slowly drawing him closer to her until their foreheads touched and she closed her eyes in thanksgiving.

“I know. I know.” she whispered. “But please understand my love, I seek only answers. As should we all. But…” She stopped; unsure if she could continue. Unsure if she could truly trust this man who’d been a part of her for her entire existence.

“But?” he questioned in a much calmer voice as he backed his head away. “But what?”

Tįlåtħ loathed that she had to ask this of him. She should’ve been able to trust to her belief in him. But she couldn’t. Her thoughts were too dangerous for the assumptions of a soul in love.

“Before I say this, I must hear the truth from you. If it came down to fighting; to insurrection-”

“Don’t ask me that Tįlåtħ. Ever.”

Her heart dropped and her eyes opened in surprise. Would he really not stand with her? Her emotions were caught in a lump in her throat and heat rose to her eyes which threatened to bring with it tears.

Reaching up, he slowly caressed her coco cheek with a mocha hand. “I have always been beside you. From the dawn of the world, to this.” he stated as his hand moved slowly to her clavicle and he traced a finger across her heavy clothes where he knew her scar lay beneath.

“And through this, as I remember.” Tįlåtħ forced out weakly, choking back tears as she traced the ragged edge of his severed horn with her fingers, and the scar which accompanied it that fell from his ear nearly to his larynx.

His horns were freezing cold to her touch.

Tįlåtħ clung to his next words; watching as steam from his mouth framed each syllable in the frigid air. “Yes. And I’ll be beside you now, just as you’ve always been beside me. I’m no fool Tįlåtħ. I know that you’d not have necessarily followed Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ down this path if it hadn’t been for me. You rebelled because your heart told you to. All you’ve endured, you endured for me.” The Dark Drågoon sighed sadly. “How could I not follow you now?

“Tįlåtħ, I love you. I have always loved you. I love the sweetness of your voice; the darkness of your skin; the fullness of your lips; the kink of your hair. I risk everything for you, willingly.”

Tįlåtħ could feel the last of his anger melting into melancholy as he spoke. As he looked upon her, he inhaled deeply, almost as if he were trying to draw strength from her scent. Then, for but a moment, he lapsed into solemnity.

“Never question this, My Heart.” he asked of her.

Unbeknownst to Tįlåtħ, his smile had spread to her face. He had a way of doing that. And she loved to hear him call her his heart. “Never again My Soul. Never again.” she responded emotionally.

The need to fight her tears was almost immediately replaced with the need to fight embracing him. She interwove her fingers tightly into the dark twists of his kinky hair and pulled their foreheads together again; their bodies drinking in each other’s warmth. The chemistry she felt between them in this moment was tangible to her. Electric. She could feel her heat for him rising. Tįlåtħ exhaled hard and a shuddering moan escaped her unbidden as he pulled her to him by her waist in reciprocation of her emotions.

If the moment hadn’t been so precarious, if there hadn’t been so many ears and eyes about, she would’ve allowed him to take her right there, on the dusty, cold floor of a strangers’ decaying home. And now that she felt solidified in her position with him, she needed to let go her thoughts.

Having someone acknowledge their love for you is an empowering thing. Especially under the gravity of such a splintering decision.

“This isn’t what we wanted.” Tįlåtħ forced herself to confess after the rush of the moment had passed somewhat. “This can’t be what any of our brothers and sisters wanted; this eternal damnation. All we wanted was equivalence. All we ever fought for was Her affection and acknowledgement.”

“Yes. We fought. And we lost. This is the penance we pay until we can take back what’s ours.”

“You can’t be content here Dåÿvįåd, in this endless cold.” she explained. Their foreheads still touching. “Those who worship at Lumå’įl’s altar in the living world understand not what they truly doom themselves to. They believe themselves supporters of His desire for equality and oneness with Her, yet they damn themselves to the same frozen hell that awaits people like Christopher and this Samahdemn! People that we are all too often allowing into our highest echelons.

“Into our Choruses!”

She lowered her head sadly. Unable to look into Dåÿvįåd’s eyes for fear of him somehow seeing the weakness in her and being, for some reason, disgusted by it. “By our God, we have truly become what the Ǻngëls say we have.” she whispered. “This wasn’t always us. We were so much more before our fall.”

“All of this behind sensing this single human’s spirit?” Dåÿvįåd asked.

“It’s more than that.” she huffed. “Remember…remember when I told you that I was forced to back down from my task because I was confronted by Åmbrosįå’s Dįvonësë?”

“Yes. But as I said when you mentioned it before, Lumå’įl warned us of as much. He said She’d be looking for this human too. So I still don’t see why this was a cause for such alarm.”

“It’s not that they were there that was alarming, but...”

“But what?”

The feared fem-Drågoon fumbled with the truth. A truth that she knew he needed to know to understand the urgency of the situation. But it was refusing to come out of her. And the more she pushed against it, the heavier it felt.

“But what, Tįlåtħ?”

“I…I wasn’t wholly honest with you. Because I…I don’t want you to hate me, Love.”

Dåÿvįåd looked upon her patiently. Attentively. But also with confusion and worry. And his eyes melted her inside. It made her guilt mix with her fear of him walking away from her once she told him what she had to say. It formed a painful knot in her throat. And she became warm with anxiousness despite the chill in the air.

“It wasn’t Her scrys being there that caught me unawares.” she eventually forced herself to say. “It was who She sent. It wasn’t just any Dįvonësë that came for him, dearest.” Tįlåtħ breathed deep. “Zåkÿntħos came. With two Ångëls in tow no less. One of whom was another Choir member.

“Zåkÿntħos?” Dåÿvįåd asked with no small amount of concern as he gently lifted her moist eyes to him. “Zåkÿntħos was there?”

She nodded in embarrassment.

“Were…were you okay?”

She couldn’t find the words to answer, so ashamed she was of the way she felt when she was in the Drågon’s presence. Ashamed that Dåÿvįåd had nary entered her mind as she’d pined for a man who’d never truly been hers.

“Tįlåtħ?”

“I’m sorry.” she said as she held her tears at bay. “I shamed you. I shamed myself; the way I thought of him. And now I’ve shamed us both a second time in concealing it from you.”

“There’s no shame in it. That couldn’t have been easy for you. I can hardly imagine what it would feel like to have a love eons old suddenly thrust on me; the shock of it. Ëszërį and Zåkÿntħos were as close to each other as you and I. That kind of love transcends in both the Drågon race and our kin. You know that. It persists with a will of its own. And the part of you that’s her could no sooner stop loving him than I could stop loving you.”

She tightened her grip on his hair needily at his understanding. “So, you forgive me my need for-?”

“-There’s nothing to forgive. And no need to dwell.”

“Thank you.” she exhaled as ease overtook her worry and she felt herself become lighter in the releasing of her burden; tears sliding down her cheeks, not out of sadness, but relief.

“How did he respond?”

Once again, her emotions shifted as she thought of Zåkÿntħos’ rejection of her affections and her tears threatened to shift in their meaning. And in this, she was conflicted in ways that she rarely was; Ëszërį’s love for Zåkÿntħos competing with her love for Dåÿvįåd. “He didn’t.”

He nodded empathetically. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I wish there were something I could do, anything I could do, to make the pain go away.”

A snicker managed to find her in the midst of her turmoil atop her lover’s support, and she smiled. “So you’d share me with another?” she asked playfully with a sniff in response to his apology.

“Never.” he said with absolute finality, yet also with an air of Tįlåtħ’s playfulness.

“So you understand what I’m trying to impart to you, yes?” she asked as she wiped her face clean, wishing to run from her confusing thoughts of Zåkÿntħos and back to her point. “Lumå’įl wants him for far more than just the immensity of his gifts. More than just to be another member of our Chorus. Åmbrosįå couldn’t have sent anyone more important save for Mįssħåël himself to retrieve Samahdemn. Just as Lumå’įl couldn’t have sent anyone above you or I. There’s a lie here somewhere. A lie They’re serving to all of us. A lie that He and His daughter have been telling us for centuries.”

Tįlåtħ could feel Dåÿvįåd clutch her ever so slightly as he pondered what she was saying. “You said you wanted answers Tįlåtħ. But if I didn’t know you better, I’d think that it sounds as if you wanted more than that.”

“I do want answers dearest. The Choirs want this man in the worst way. And the more I think on it, the more I doubt that the Ångëls are the ones hiding Samahdemn from us. Something in Zåkÿntħos’ face when I mentioned it… At first I thought he was being coy. But the more I ruminate on it…I don’t know. I don’t think that the Goddess is hiding him.”

“If not Åmbrosįå or Sånįgron, then who?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. And that frightens me. Maybe Lumå’įl knew. Maybe He didn’t. But either way, regardless of how you want to look at it, He was wrong to hide the truth of this. And we deserve to know the truth. We deserve to know everything if we are to be asked to stand in front of this; if we are expected to give our lives for-”

“We fight for home and for each other.” Dåÿvįåd said. “Not necessarily for Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ alone. We fight for an ideal.”

“And that’s what I mean Dåÿvįåd. Do you ever stop and ask yourself what ideal we’re fighting for? Do we know? Does He? Either way, He’s failing us in this. Either He knows the truth and He’s working towards a future that doesn’t necessarily include us, in which case we are being all of us used, or, He’s ignorant of what’s truly happening and He’s blindly marching us all to a certain death. In either case…” She stopped speaking aloud; paranoia gripping her. And she put her lips to his ear. Breathing out the faintest kiss of a whisper to him. “Is He really who we want to lead us?”

Dåÿvįåd quickly withdrew his ear from her mouth and she hushed him quickly and instinctively with a solid shake of her head and a hand to his mouth before he could protest. But quieting her worries, he gently removed her hand and assuaged her. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I’ve…nothing to say. Just shocked is all.”

Tįlåtħ had exposed herself quite thoroughly. “So you do agree?”

“Who else have you talked to about this?” he asked. It wasn’t lost on Tįlåtħ that he hadn’t answered her question.

“No one.” she said.

“Okay. I think it prudent we keep it that way.”

Tįlåtħ untangled the rest of her fingers from the Fallen Ångël’s hair. Dåÿvįåd in turn softened his grip on her hips and watched as she slipped away from his embrace.

She could feel his eyes lingering on her as she began to pace back and forth in the cold, airy space. Her mind drifted briefly to how the richly made leathers and wools of her winter clothing must have made her look absolutely surreal to him against the backdrop of the dilapidated living room; framed from above by thin fissures that had seemingly split the ceiling into sections decades upon decades ago. Cracks which were leaking slow, steady drops of melted snow-water which splashed irritatingly all about them, and congregated into a small puddle on the overly worn floor.

“You’ve always been decisive.” she heard him say as she paced. “You make a decision and that’s that. I’ve never seen you so conflicted before. So unsure of your next step. It’s…concerning that you’d imply what you just did without some idea of how you want to play against it. What would you have us do? Should we simply ask Them and see where it takes us?”

“Honestly, I don’t know my dear. Not yet anyway. Besides, knowing what I’ve told you, do you believe that either of Them would tell us anything of the truth anyway?”

“Assuming, of course, that you’re right and They’re actually lying to us. This is still all just speculation.”

“Dåÿvįåd. Please. You can’t possibly be that naïve. They lied to the Most High for nearly an age before the fall! Lumå’įl is the king of lies and Så’Ħdënåħ their queen. Lies that we ourselves were party to. What makes you think that either He or His daughter wouldn’t lie again? What suddenly puts them above it all?”

Dåÿvįåd looked about the room, searching for an answer that would satisfy her question one way or the other; as if it lay somewhere amongst the shambles. But he didn’t have to search far. As it wasn’t long before he locked eyes with her and asked- “Truth?”

“Truth.” she answered.

“If I were to be honest with you, and with myself, suspicions have been scratching at the back of my mind ever since our meeting at the tower. But I couldn’t find a reason to question Lumå’įl or Så’Ħdënåħ’s judgement in the matter any more than I’ve ever had a reason to question Their authority over us. Or Their leadership of our people. It’s well known that They’re an “ends justify the means” pair. They always have been.

“And within that, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve just been making excuses for Them…and excuses for myself so that I can justify all we did during the Ten and Five Year Wars.”

“So you agree?”

Dåÿvįåd nodded, distressed. “To be short, possibly. Maybe. I do see your point. But willing myself to wholly believe it is a separate issue all together. I don’t suppose that They’d be above the lies. And I’d be lying if I said I were able to tell you how the possibility of that makes me feel. But…”

“I know.” Tįlåtħ sympathized as she nodded her head slowly; her smoky eyes refusing to smile even when her mouth did as she attempted to assuage her confidant.

“This isn’t something we should be considering tackling alone. Regardless of how we decide to approach it. I daresay we shouldn’t be discussing it at all. But if we’re really going to do what is in your mind to do, we’ll need support.” he suggested. “A lot of support.”

“Of that much, I’ve no doubt. But first, I’ll need to talk to this human Lumå’įl wants so badly. Not for Them, but for myself. For us. He may very well be our first stepping stone if I do, in fact, decide that insurgence is the only path forward. If we can’t talk to our Father and get him to search for a way to talk to our estranged Mother instead of throwing us into another war that I don’t believe any of us really want. None of us want to continue fighting with our brothers and sisters. Right?”

“I don’t see how that would be possible.” Dåÿvįåd retorted. “If the Ångëls were there when he fell, then they have him now. And I’d imagine that inciting a fray with Ångëlįcs and a Drågon isn’t something that Lumå’įl wants. Not yet at least.”

“And yet he’s too important to leave in their hands. Lumå’įl was being truthful about one thing: He believes that Samahdemn’s power will strengthen the Chorus. And He’s right. Possibly more so than He knows. And that’s a power that, while I truly hope against it, we very well may need to…well…”

Dåÿvįåd cocked his head to one side in curiosity. “Okay. Then let’s say that you or I am able to get close to him without violently confronting our former family. What if he refuses to listen to us, or if the Ångëls stand in our way? What if Zåkÿntħos comes to you again and tries to leverage your feelings against you?”

Tįlåtħ looked out the cottage’s dirty windows to the dæmöns they’d kicked out into the chill when Dåÿvįåd commandeered the aging chalet. The old man looked cold and miserable and the young boy was trying to start a fire near him, but his hands looked too frigid to properly hold the stones he was trying to strike together. The sight of it all saddened her.

And the thought that she may be more a part of the problem than anything else saddened her all the more. “I’ll cross that bridge when I’m forced to build it.”

The fem-general could feel her man’s disapproving glare on her back from across the room.

“It won’t come to that. They don’t want to fight us any more than we want to fight them. And while Tħos may be willing to do many things…being cruel among them,” she said as she cleared a tinge of sadness from her throat as she was reminded of the way he declined to return her affections in the lounge, “purposefully weaponizing that cruelty is not one of them. Sadism isn’t in him.”

“Tħos?”

“Sorry. I meant Zåkÿntħos. Force of habit…of Ëszërį’s habits.”

“Ah. I see. I hope you’re right.”

“Don’t worry about it My Soul.” she said. “One step at a time. First, we look for answers. And supporters. Can you think of anyone else whose ever given you any reason to think that they’re…unsatisfied with the status quo? That their views may align with ours? Fear and uncertainty may be keeping a great many voices silent.”

“I know not. But I wouldn’t think to trust any of the Chorus with that question.”

That thought distressed her. They were all family to her. Save for Christopher with all of his sick twistedness.

She looked despondently to Dåÿvįåd. “You might be right.” she said. “But I would hope we could. At least at some point. Maybe Kå’Såbåstįånnë?”

“I don’t know. I know that you two have always been close. And it’s as obvious as the snow on the ground that she holds a torch for you. But I don’t know if that’s enough to hang a flag of trust on.” Dåÿvįåd gave Tįlåtħ a slight smile in spite of his obvious unease at this whole business. But as much as she wanted it to, it did little to assuage her. “But who knows?” he continued. “Maybe she could prove to be trustworthy.”

“No, you’re not wrong.” Tįlåtħ backslid under the weight of her beloved’s wisdom. “It’s too early to tell. But I do wish…”

“Don’t worry about it right now. Not until we find our footing. Agreed?”

Tįlåtħ nodded with quiet confidence. She felt strengthened by Dåÿvįåd’s support. She felt fortunate.

A shiver ran down her spine, sending a sudden shudder through her entire body. And approaching her, Dåÿvįåd reached out and rubbed her arms until the tenseness left behind in the shudder’s wake evaporated from her shoulders. And he pulled her close in the aftermath. A closeness that she welcomed eagerly.

But whether her shivers were from the realization that she was finding herself on a course which could lead them both to the very real possibility of confronting Så’Ħdënåħ and challenging Lumå’įl, or from the chill in the air, she couldn’t tell.