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I. Earth
Arella settles at the side of the alley and waits to die.
She tips her head against the wall. The world is already slow and silent around her, the sky dark and scattered with wispy clouds. The stars are washed away by the city lights; she wishes, suddenly and fiercely, that she could see them better, that she could die looking at something beautiful.
At least her death will be peaceful. It’s more than some of her friends at the orphanage had gotten.
Suddenly, the alley is awash in light.
Arella squints through it, confused. She can barely see anything with how bright it all is, her eyes struggling to adjust to the change. She can make out a man in the middle of the alley, his robes whipping around him, face hidden under his hood.
Arella thinks dazedly that this must be... some sort of angel, surely, meant to escort her to her death. But God, she’s so tired and if there is an afterlife, she isn’t so sure she wants it right now, and she was a Satanist anyways which means she’s probably destined for Hell, and -
The man steps forward and helps her to her feet. His hand is cool and calloused and Arella shivers under it, the gentlest touch she’s known in - in months really, ever since Trigon had revealed his true face to her.
The man pulls her forward, and suddenly she’s in a hall of shining marble, tall pillars all around the periphery of it, holding up a ceiling painted with constellations. The man lets go of her hand and Arella clutches at him, sudden and desperate.
He turns to her, eyes kind and fingers gentle as he tugs his cloak from her grip. “Stay,” he says, “You will not be harmed.”
She watches him walk to the edge of the hall, where hundreds more are crowded, all of them in those strange cloaks. Their heads are bowed to the floor, still Arella shivers. She’s always known when she’s being watched.
A lone woman stands on the dais opposite to her, draped in gold and silk. Her eyes are large and luminous and so pale they seem almost white, and they seem to brighten even more as she meets Arella’s gaze.
She tugs at her dress, suddenly embarrassed. She hadn’t cared about dirtying it when she’d sat down in that alley, sure in the knowledge that whoever found her would have other things to be worried about than the state of her clothes. Now, surrounded by splendour, she wishes she’d chosen to die somewhere cleaner.
The old woman smiles, as if sensing her thoughts. “You must be quite frightened, little one. I shall explain everything soon enough, but first, perhaps a meal for our honoured guest?”
Arella smiles back, caught in the light.
II. Azarath
Raven is born silent.
Arella is ashamed - for a brief second before the grief hits her, her heart only knows overwhelming relief. Trigon had wanted a child so desperately - enough to try a hundred times over, enough to ravage universes for their sake - and to be wanted by a demon is a dangerous thing. However great his desire, however great his loneliness, Trigon has always been helpless against his own cruelty. It would be better, in some ways, if the child really had— But Azar rushes in, snatching up the babe, and Arella can only watch, weeping, as Azar’s hands press down on that delicate chest. Hope rises within her - for what outcome, even Arella cannot discern.
Then the baby mewls, a tiny, sullen thing, and Arella—oh, Arella must be a selfish creature after all, because she cradles her daughter to her bosom, and despite Trigon, despite the blood-red gem that scars her daughter’s forehead, despite the horrors she knows will come— She can’t imagine ever letting go.
-
So Raven grows, and grows afraid. Arella loses her, first to Azar and then to Azarath itself. More often than not, she is quiet and still, reminding Arella more of a doll than a child. She sticks closely to the shadows, her face always cloaked. Still, Arella catches glimpses - Raven looks the way Arella imagines she must have as a child, the same grey eyes, the same dark hair. Arella wonders if her daughter’s hair will start curling the way hers had, if it will remain straight and sleek like she remembers her own mother having.
So much of Raven is of Arella, of the people Arella had loved so long ago. Even through Azar’s warnings, even through her daughter’s isolation, Arella can’t find it in herself to look away.
III. The abyss
Azar passes, and Trigon comes to claim his child, and Arella watches, as helpless against Trigon as she had been all those years ago, though she wields her new power, though she now commands Azarath.
A great black void rises from Raven’s form, and Arella accepts, finally, what she’s tried to deny all these years.
Her daughter has always been Trigon’s before she’s been anyone else’s.
But Raven flees to Earth, and returns in desperation. Her daughter speaks of battle, of resistance, not knowing that she gives into her father’s wishes even as she defies him.
Arella can’t be angry at her. She can’t fight with her, either - it would be a betrayal to Azarath, to Azar, who had been her saviour. So she sends Raven off with prayers and a blessing, knowing it won’t be enough.
Her daughter has suffered 18 long years in silence. It is the least Raven deserves, to die for herself after having lived carrying the sins of others. Arella will grieve later, when she isn’t being watched by half of Azarath.
Raven doesn’t die. She comes back to Azarath with a gaggle of children behind her. Arella watches as they battle Trigon, watches as her daughter looks at her with contempt as she realises Arella will not help.
Arella can’t disagree with her daughter’s feelings. It is her mistakes that her daughter is paying for now, while Arella herself stands only as a witness, her hands clean as Raven’s are stained with blood.
And then Raven offers to leave. With Trigon, back to his home dimension, in return for peace. Arella had been prepared for Raven to die, had expected it even as she wept at its inevitability—but to live in Trigon’s grasp for eternity is a horror her daughter can’t yet comprehend.
She steps forward, reaching for Raven, but Trigon is quick to press his advantage, pulling her through dimensions before she can do a thing.
Arella has lived in Azarath now for almost half her life, knows its great halls and shining skies better than she knows herself. She remembers her first day in Azarath, how Azar had smiled at her, how the ladies had washed her hair and scrubbed her back as she cried. She remembers Raven wandering the temple as a child, small and solemn and silent, holding a weight she didn’t entirely understand.
In the end, it’s no choice at all.
She guides her daughter’s friends through dimensions, her heart a stone in her chest.
Arella had never been a person particularly inclined to rage. It’s why she’d fit in so quickly in Azarath. Even violated by Trigon, Arella had never had the courage to be angry, had only cried for days and refused to eat until Trigon had forced her mouth open and made her swallow the food he’d brought her.
“That’s how I know you are weak, wife,” he’d said, laughing. “If you were so intent on dying, you would have resisted until I’d broken your jaw in desperation. You’d have choked on the food and let the water clog your lungs, but you didn’t. You will live, because you are too scared to do anything else.”
Now, Arella thinks of her daughter, thinks of herself, only a little older than Raven is now, so young and so alone, and feels a burning like she’s never felt before. When Trigon faces her, she steps forward, and lets her power flow.
-
When Trigon is finally pushed through the doorway, Arella glances back at her daughter.
The other children have collapsed in their relief, but her daughter-
Raven stands tall, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Joy suits her, Arella thinks fondly, committing the expression to memory.
She will never see Raven smile again. Arella had made her peace with the truth of the situation the moment she’d left Azarath. She is still its leader, even exiled. Trigon is Azarath’s folly, and Raven is hers, and Arella has had enough of running away from it all.
The second before the doorway closes, Arella leaps. She hears them shout, confused, but Arella only smiles as she looks back for the last time. She hopes her daughter will remember her like this - brave and heroic. She hopes Raven will be proud.
Finally, Arella settles at the gateway to the bridge, and waits for eternity.
The stars are bright around her.