Work Text:
The Shadowfell possessed a mindnumbing constancy. Oppressive darkness that sought to suffocate her. Crashing thunder that danced about in the same rhythm. Roaring winds that howled and howled and howled. Through it all were the incessant whispers of death and hate clawing at her mind. Aylin had long since memorized every rock, every bit of polished stone, every spiked chain, and every glowing rune of her prison. Only the very gradual descent of her rocky platform deeper into the Shadowfell marked any sort of change. So when something or someone came strolling around it was easy for Aylin to feel the disruptive ripples their presence caused. Lips were pulled up into a snarl as the winds brought about the scent of sulfur and cherries. A change of pace from the soon-to-be Dark Justiciars all too eager to spill her blood in ritualistic sacrifice, but still not a change Aylin would welcome. In moments a figure could be seen approaching her prison. They casually stepped over one of the growing cracks in the platform. Reddened skin, slicked back hair, fine clothes, and an arrogant air about them.
“The bird fluttered about in perilous planes, thinking itself indomitable. Yet when the tempests blew darkness sealed its fate.” Hazel eyes met hers and a wry smile formed on the man’s lips. “My my my, what a sight this is. The daughter of the Moonmaiden, Her famed sword, bound within Shar’s domain. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, Dame Aylin.”
Aylin stood tall and prowled closer to the edge of her prison. Just enough so she could feel the ethereal hands forming to grab her. She looked the devil up and down then scoffed.
“Raphael, never once had you dared to face me until now. You always ran with your tail betwixt your legs as soon as my gaze turned towards you. I suppose my imprisonment has emboldened more cowards than Shar’s deluded followers.”
A sharp laugh was let out. “The legends were right. It wasn’t just your sword that was sharp, but…” a pointed glance was given to the hands holding Aylin “it seems they might have exaggerated a bit on the divine wisdom bit, hmm?”
She could charge forward and put on a show of her trying to break free of her binds to attack Raphael, but all that would do is play into whatever hand the devil was trying to form. He wanted her to humiliate herself in front of him, show how powerless and vulnerable she was so he could manipulate that. Aylin remained in place, eyes narrowing.
“You speak of events that of which you were not present. You’ve merely scrounged together whatever false tale is being spun out there and scuttled your way here like a carrion crawler seeking scraps.”
“Oh there are many tales to be told of the tragedy above. Has anyone bothered to drop by and keep you informed as the years or even decades have passed? I doubt Shar has been all too straightforward with things. She does love her secrets.”
No immediate response was given. Aylin folded her arms across her chest and continued to glare at Raphael. For as isolated as she was, she wasn’t ignorant of some of the events that had transpired above. When Balthazar visited regularly he had taken considerable pleasure in telling her about the latest hangings or families that had shunned the Moonmaiden. He’d list off names and how they’d either cursed her personally or the exact manner in which the faithful met their violent ends. It didn’t stop there though. Of the blades that pierced her flesh and anointed a new Dark Justiciar far too many of them were held by those with familiar faces. People she had watched grow, people she had fought alongside of, people she had trained. A war had started at some point and perhaps it had ended. Not a single would-be Dark Justiciar had made their way towards her for some time and even Balthazar’s torments had stopped. However, Ketheric’s leeching of her soul was as prevalent as ever. Reithwin had fallen and she had been powerless to prevent it. Worse, she aided in it all because she had been a fool to answer Ketheric’s call for help.
“I already know what I need. Ketheric lives and will continue to until I am free.”
“And what a simple thing it is to free you. A friendly touch. Just one,” Raphael held up a finger for emphasis. “Yet for all the souls that traveled down here not one has. How deeply that must wound you to only be met with cruelty after cruelty. I half expected to find you here in some form of your glory. Had I not known better I would have mistaken you for some beggar off the street.” Raphael tisked and shook his head.
Aylin was more than aware of how poor her appearance was. Her clothes had been torn and soaked with blood thousands of times and there was not a drop of water within the Shadowfell to clean herself with.
“Make your point and be done, devil. You bore me with your pointless prattling.”
“Ah but it isn’t pointless my dear Dame in Distress for I come willing to give you what you desire most.” He took a step closer and reached his hand out. “A friendly touch, one sufficient enough to grant you your freedom.”
Laughter burst from Aylin’s mouth as she threw her head back for a moment.
“What shall it cost me? My soul? What little details will you write into our contract so I might be bowed to you for all eternity?”
“I assure you it will be most beneficial to both of us. I’ll even let you read it over before you sign.”
“Nay,” Aylin stated; her face void of her prior amusement. “The immortal soul of a Daughter of Selûne in the hands of a simple devil? You think me so worthless or foolish?”
“You’d rather waste away here while your vengeance goes unanswered and endless crimes are done against your mother’s faithful?”
“I do not need to turn to you to gain my freedom. In time things will come to pass.”
It was Raphael’s turn to laugh. “There were no guards barring my entrance, I waltzed into Shar’s training grounds and entered here with no resistance. Had your mother bothered to free you she could have done so many years ago! You’re the fool for rejecting my offer. I didn’t need to make the journey, but I did for your sake.”
Lies upon manipulative lies. While Aylin could no longer hear or feel her mother’s guiding light, she knew the circumstances surrounding freeing her were more complicated than that. For what might be easy for a devil to do, a mortal might meet a swift death. There was the added danger that any Selûnite who entered the Shadowfell could be instantly crushed by Shar. This was Her domain and She still kept a lingering gaze upon Aylin. Perhaps in a few more decades Her attention would wane and a friendly soul could make the journey. Aylin loathed being trapped in this soul cage more than anything, but she would not shake a devil’s hand to be free of it.
“A devil does nothing out of altruism. You seek to gain my soul by sowing doubt towards my mother.”
“You’d trust your fate to Selûne after she let Reithwin die?! A primordial Goddess can’t be bothered with such trivial things and she won’t be bothered with you. I’ve done far more for the Selûnite’s of Reithwin than ANYONE has! Isobel’s death wouldn’t have lasted a night had I been beseeched for help.”
Aylin’s blood boiled. The desire to lunge for the petulant devil and rip his putrid tongue out seized Aylin’s entire being. For a moment she swore she could feel the faintest whisper of her divine rage strengthen her body. However, Aylin kept it all back. He wanted her to lash out. He wanted her rage. He wanted her to slip up. Dame Aylin would make no such mistake. A half step closer was taken towards Raphael, prompting the ethereal hands to tug on her arms and hip.
“It was Selûne who blessed Reithwin for centuries. It was Her light and power that was channeled by her faithful that aided them in every conflict Shar and others threw at them. And it is Her light that guides all of Her faithful to their deserved, eternal rest when they meet their end. You were never there. You only crawled forth seeking gain when the tide was finally tipped to the dark. Not even on the night of Isobel’s murder were you there for I would have relished the opportunity to smite your miscreant self back to the Hells!” Aylin stood tall and tried in vain to summon whatever might she could still call on. “I am Dame Aylin, The Sword of the Moonmaiden, her divine daughter, and I rebuke you for even daring to approach me!”
Whatever effect Aylin thought she might have was not so for Raphael stood before her with amusement plastered all over his face.
“So you say, but reality speaks otherwise, Nightsong. You’re no champion of the Moonmaiden, you’re the Singer of Sorrows, the Nightsinger’s personal plaything, and a deluded celestial bound to suffer here for the sake of your pride.”
Those words struck Aylin in the chest, angering her further. She strained against her binds, trying to get even the slightest bit closer so she could do something, ANYTHING, to Raphael. However, the devil stepped back and brushed an invisible speck of dust off of his gold embroidered tunic.
“This has been most entertaining, but I have better places to be and deals to make. It is unfortunate you rejected my generous offer, as I am afraid I won’t have the time to come back here.” A wry smile formed upon his face once more. “Farewell, Nightsong, it has been such a pleasure,” Raphael finished.
No mock bow was given nor did he attempt to slay her. He simply turned around and left the way he came.
Aylin let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding then drew in another to roar up at the darkness around her. Every centimeter of her body and soul yearned to lash out, to show how mistaken Raphael was to mock her. Aylin let her mind play out the bloody vengeance she would one day have against the pompous devil, losing her focus on the present. Her imaginations were halted with the snap of one of the bones in her right arm. Aylin’s head whirled to the side in time to see a couple more ethereal hands form around her broken arm. They twisted and squeezed, breaking it in several more places. Pain shot through her, nearly making her cry out had she not bit down on her tongue. The hands then shoved her to the ground, rubbing her face against the smooth stone of her prison. Knife-like nails sunk into her back, slowly cutting deeper and deeper into her. Aylin remained silent yet her body still twitched and squirmed from the sheer agony. A dark, all too familiar feeling washed over her bringing with it a sick satisfaction at what it was doing to her. As one of the nails started to pierce her heart, Aylin felt the world around her fade away. In her last moments of consciousness Aylin prayed to her mother, trusting that in time her torment would come to an end one way or another.
~~~~~~
The domed moon shield was a beacon of light within the Shadowcursed lands for better or for worse. Since Jaheira and her Harpers had joined Isobel at Last Light Inn they had welcomed in Florrick and her Flaming Fists and had repelled a number of attacks from the shadows. It was easy to say that the safe haven attracted all sorts to its moon blessed domain. Isobel was performing her usual ritual to strengthen the moon shield when her divine senses alerted her to the infernal presence that had just stepped onto her balcony. Normally she would have picked up on that as soon as they came within a dozen meters or so, but her exhausted and preoccupied self only barely took note. There was no threatening aura coming from the man nor dire warnings from the Moonmaiden, so for now she might be safe. Isobel maintained her concentration on the silver light she was weaving and sent it up to strengthen the moon shield before acknowledging the visitor.
“May I help you?” She said as she regarded the devil with caution.
He was of above average height and build, sported reddened skin, hazel eyes, slicked back brown hair, and finely tailored clothes. To most who were not blessed with the same abilities as her they might think of him as a regular human that had spent too much time in the sun.
“Isobel Thorm, what a sight for sore eyes you are,” he said as he bowed with flourish at the waist.
Gray eyes narrowed. Her hand itched to summon a bolt of radiant light, but she kept it by her side. A hostile action such as that wouldn’t be looked upon too kindly by the devil. Then again what was she to make of his concerning introduction? She had no footing of which to even attempt to deny who he claimed her to be.
“An incredulous statement as we have never met.”
“We have not, but I, Raphael, have long since wished to meet Reithwin’s Leading Lady. Out of all the players on this tragic stage it is you, Isobel Thorm, who captures the spotlight,” he spoke with theatric gravitas.
“I can assure you whatever rumors you’ve heard about me have been greatly exaggerated,” Isobel tried to deflect.
“How astonishing it is how just one piece can affect so many others,” Raphael continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “What do we know of her aside from the guise she now hides in? A simple cleric of Selûne is a laughable farce. Isobel Thorm is so much more than that. She is the daughter of the undying General that rules this cursed land. She is the lifeline for all who seek to thwart him or survive. She is the one devoted enough to wield such a heavy portion of divine power despite the heavy toll. And last but not least she is the one whose death brought her indomitable, divine paramour to her knees as she wept for days. Nay weeks! Truly it’s an honor to meet the linchpin of Moonrise Towers. I have much to thank you for.”
Every sentence was spoken with flair and no shortage of dramatic hand motions as if the devil was performing some sort of one man play. Isobel had nearly become bored with it until his last words spoke of Aylin. Grief mixed with anger churned inside, making her reconsider her choice to not blast the devil with some divine power.
“So now you’ve met me. But for what purpose have you? I doubt a devil is approaching a cleric of Selûne for a simple chat or to pass along their gratitude.”
A toothy grin formed on Raphael’s face. “I can be an enjoyer of a casual gab. Let us pour a drink and enjoy ourselves for a moment!”
Two chairs, a table with two silver goblets, and a decorative bottle of brandy appeared in a burst of sulfur and flames. Raphael scooped up the goblets and filled them with the dark red liquid.
“To your good health,” he said as he offered one of the glasses to her.
Isobel remained in place, not making a single move to accept the drink. Raphael held it out for a few more seconds before setting it down on the table.
“Clerics and their reservations. I wasn’t trying to buy your soul with a glass of brandy; even if this is a rather expensive and rare bottle.” A sly smirk twisted on his lips and an amused huff was let out as he said that.
Isobel tried to see what kind it was, but failed to before Raphael set it down with the label turned away from her.
“If you’re not here to talk then your visit must be for business.”
“Right you are my dear Leading Lady.”
“The answer is no.”
Her swift response caused Raphael to halt and blink once in surprise. “I haven’t even begun to-”
“And there is nothing in all of the planes that you could offer me. No deal that I would accept,” Isobel cut him off once again.
His gaze drifted from her face up towards the moon glowing faintly behind her. “With such a powerful goddess at your side I can see why you’d make such a hasty decision. Yet for all of your devotion and importance in this grim stage, your Lady of Silver hasn’t been very forthcoming. How strange indeed and I thought it was Her sister that was the secretive one.”
Eyes narrowed while Isobel’s lips turned downwards ever so slightly. She opened her mouth to tell him off once again, but this time he beat her to the punch.
“Such a dauntless fight this is. Your father is invulnerable by some miraculous or macabre means, the land is cursed by Shar, and you’re deluded to think that these Harpers and Fists can bring him down? I know you understand how hopeless of a situation this is and I know you wouldn’t be bothered if you died trying. After all, why should you be upset at losing the life you shouldn’t have regained?”
All of it hit too close to home and Isobel hated that.
“Are you done yet? My answer is not changing,” she snapped.
“Oh but maybe you should,” Raphael said with a little too much sing-song in his voice. “What if I told you that there was a key. One secret that could turn the tide of this losing conflict in an instant! One I daresay would win it in an instant.” Lips parted to form a grin while eyes shined with glee.
“Your bloated lies aren’t convincing.”
“They aren’t?” Raphael then looked up at the moon once again before staring Isobel down. “Then She really hasn’t told you, has She? Tut tut. To keep something so important hidden from you even after all you are doing in Her name. And people claim that only devils act with such cruelty.”
Isobel turned ever so slightly to look up at the moon, eyebrows furrowing. Was there something the Moonmaiden hadn’t told her? Ever since her resurrection and her arrival to Last Light she had been in near constant communication with the Moonmaiden. What could even be hiding out here that could change the course of everything?
“I could tell you. Show you even. Guide you right to the precipice of this secret and you’d have your father’s death assured and so much more than you could scarcely imagine!"
Raphael’s voice came from behind her, far too close for her comfort. Isobel took a quick step away from him and drew her spear while internally berating herself for not keeping her eyes on the devil. Raphael stood tall once again and held out the glass of brandy.
“Promise me your soul, Isobel Thorm, and this nightmare will be over.”
Isobel’s gaze hardened and she held her chin high. “Never.”
The devil let out a laugh. “You’d still reject my offer and align yourself with Selûne after everything She didn’t do?! You’re more of a fool than I thought.”
“You’re the fool to think I’d turn my back on the Moonmaiden. Believe me I have my questions for Her, but I understand that at this moment I am needed here. Her powers expand farther than I can sense or feel. There are more performers that have yet to make their entrance on the stage.”
“Such bold confidence and blind faith, almost reminds me of someone,” he said with a chuckle. Raphael then took a delicate sip of the goblet in his hand. “Ah, there’s nothing quite like this. There’s a layer to the flavors in this drink that are lost to mortals.” He walked over to the table and turned the bottle around so Isobel could finally see the label.
Starburst Shandy. The common words were written in a mock celestial script with wings wrapped around the edges of the label.
Isobel’s whole body seized with rage.
Raphael’s smug expression grew. “Beneath that divinity steeped into the brandy there’s the acridness of adrenaline. I can only imagine how the angel felt while they were trapped and their body used. What fear, what anger, what shame must have consumed them? One day I hope to witness such a process and learn for myself, but for now I will simply enjoy.”
The glass was raised to Isobel as if Raphael had just finished a toast, then it was brought back for another sip.
“FLAGRA!”
A narrow bolt of radiance shot from Isobel’s finger and struck Raphael in the chest causing him to spill the brandy all over his front. Smugness twisted with anger for a split second and a scorching ball of fire hit Isobel right back. The force of the blast knocked her against the makeshift offering table behind her, burned through her vestments, and seared her skin. Isobel coughed weakly as she struggled to regain her feet.
“Careful little cleric. You wouldn’t want to so recklessly endanger yourself now would you?” There was an edge of anger to his tone as he cleaned his shirt with magic.
Isobel glared at him. “Get out of my inn,” she rasped.
“And so our unfortunate Leading Lady takes her stance and rejects the devil’s generous offer. You’ll regret it once you learn it all too late.”
With that Raphael, the table and chair, and the brandy all vanished in a tiny vortex of fire and sulfur.
No sigh of relief was to be earned at Raphael’s disappearance for her lungs spasmed forcing her to cough over and over. Flecks of blood and black sludge sprayed onto her gloves. Isobel tried to steady her breathing but the smoke from her burns only made it worse. Hands glowed with healing magic for a second before another cough caused it to fade away. Amidst Isobel’s struggle to recover from the hellish rebuke a gentle warmth settled on her shoulders. It slowly wrapped around her like a hug, healing her burns and restoring her vestments. The scent of ash and charred flesh dissipated and Isobel finally managed to draw a clear breath of air. She turned around and looked up at the moon. It didn’t matter whether or not Raphael had been lying about the secrets kept from her. Isobel had always trusted the Moonmaiden and would continue to do so.
“Thank you, My Lady.”
A ray of moonlight brushed against her face, offering a touch of warmth to her cold, tear stained cheeks. With it came the promise whispered into her heart that all would be made clear in the end. Isobel held onto that with all she had. For it was all she had.