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Excerpt from the Celestial Pantheon Archives, located in the High Temple of Sen Tigrathynon. It is a pressed copy of ancient, crumbling engravings found in the High Temple of Sen Minathriel, but its true author is unknown. Circa 11:32:

…the land knew not the bounties of nature. It knew only Itself, and existed on Its own. It was a sea, not of water but of grass, ebbing and flowing and racing towards the Horizon. We know something of this ourselves, for we see the echo of Its greatness in our own Wilderlands. 

 

Before the First People, there was nothing. There were no rivers, for there was no Sea. There were no birds, no Melodies, for there were no trees that could house them. The Sun and the Moon was all this land knew—Its sole visitors. 

 

But the First People could see the allure hidden in such a land. Its future laid out in front of their very eyes. It was sparse, but that meant little went unnoticed. There, beneath the tall grass, lay plants and roots ripe for consumption, and small beasts burrowing deep. The soil was rich and fertile. The Wilderlands held the recipe for life, and the First People knew this.

 

It was here where our ancestors made their homes. However, they struggled, even through the magic of the land, for they were forced to make many pilgrimages in order to access needs we consider basic. While the land was blessed by forces Unknown to us even now, It did not completely provide for them. But they persevered, and we are their result. They were the founders of Prosperity and Promise, and their noble plight inspired many to join them. Today there are many songs and tales of the People, stories and legends and myths, and while there are no longer any left to verify them, there is one irrefutable point.

 

The birth of Sen Minathriel. It is She who protects our Beloved city. She is made of the Dreams of thousands of People, her Soul crafted in Stardust and Moonlight, the Cosmic Manifestation of the wishes of the First People.

 

She is an Anomaly among the Divine, for She was born of humans. It is said that many Celestials visited Her in Her infancy, but Her humanity compelled them away. Such is the nature of the fearful. But She cared not, for Her devoted followers filled the gap left by Her fellows. And She returned the favor.

 

What is left of humanity if you take away their dreams? What do we become if we no longer wish, no longer want? This is the core of Sen Minathriel’s purpose. She aided the First People in achieving their dreams, in creating Wilderlain. She soothed their restless sleep and guarded their nights. It was She who cradled Wilderlain in its first fragile states, and it is She who protects us now. None will fear the Dark under Her watchful vigilance and benevolence. It is because of this that we love and worship Her.

 

May the Moon shine Eternal. 

Below is another pressed copy, this time a picture. It is most likely of a mural or mosaic accompanying the above engraving, and in real life is many times bigger. It depicts a female figure, heavily armored. However, her head remains bare of any helmet—instead, her short hair flows freely, but her face is unclear. Her hand is held out and displaying a many-rayed star. Two great sets of wings splay out on either side of her. This is Sen Minathriel, and her entire being is dipped in holy starlight.

…

What did it mean to be a god? Was she even meant to consider such a question? Sometimes she wondered if the human part was to blame. For wasn’t this the answer? Caring for her people, looking after them. As she had been doing for so long. They adored her, and that was enough. It should be.

There was nobody to guide her, no fellow god or goddess to fall back on. No, she remembered the way they reviled her, even if she couldn’t remember their faces anymore. She had heard from somewhere that to many, a god is only as good as what their worshippers embody. She didn’t entirely know what that meant, but she did know one thing. It’s amusing, in a twisted sort of way, that her kinfolk would condemn her for the very humanity that kept them going. She did not know enough to truly miss having others of her kind around, but there was something. An emptiness, perhaps, that no matter what she did to try and fill it, remained void.

It was a cloudless day, and the young goddess was content to stretch her wings so they could soak in the warm sunlight. It wasn’t as nice as moonlight, but it would do, she supposed. Wilderlain, a large collection of homes, sprawled out before her. Many of them were made from imported wood, but many more utilized the clay and stone found littered throughout the Wilderlands. Most were families who farmed and raised livestock, but she noticed that new trades appeared frequently. All of them were quite interesting to her, full of new stories and information. Their dreams certainly kept her intrigued, filled with the same newness. A few shanties rested on the outskirts—newcomers looking to take advantage of the budding city. 

She sat on the roof of her High Temple, her legs dangling over the side. It was the tallest building around, with a belltower rising directly behind her. It never failed to warm her whenever she saw it, for the Wilderlains’ dedication to her as their patron rivaled their dedication to their own people. Perhaps it was a remnant from the First People, whose influence was palpable throughout the city as though they still walked its streets.

She considered the Wilderlains below her, all of them going about their day. There was one in particular—she believed their name was Aleth—who was quickly rising in popularity. They had a natural sense for leadership, a presence that commanded attention yet whose hand was gentle. They have the bearing for a Liege . And there, carrying two horned and hoofed animals, was Janali and her two daughters. They were gaining a reputation for their skills in hunting, but not so much their cooking. That belonged to Yrmstead. 

Life in Wilderlain was slow, but steady. They were an ambitious lot, and the young goddess enjoyed watching them, learning their names. While it helped her feel closer to them, it also gave her plenty of time to consider that strange burgeoning incompleteness that seemed to grow by the day. It left her feeling discomfited, but life went on.

…

It started with a tree.

The world was not yet awake, and the sky was still dark save for a sliver of faint blue on the horizon. It was standing on a faraway hill, a dark silhouette against the sky—scraggly, and more of a shrub than anything. She paid it no mind—some brave saplings would attempt to root here and swiftly realize this was no ideal place to grow. It happened rather often, and neither she nor the humans of Wilderlain had much faith in those saplings anymore. So she turned away, content to lounge on the eave of a roof and watch as her people slowly came to life alongside the sun. Nothing was amiss.

Until the next morning. 

The single, thin stick of a tree had suddenly flourished into a great and hulking one, complete with a thick trunk and full set of emerald leaves, rustling invitingly in the breeze. Around it the normally pale grass had somehow become greener, and a few wildflowers had even poked up near its base. Even more surprising was that several more saplings had sprung up around the tree, with some already sprouting foliage. 

The mortals were ecstatic at the sight. The shrub hadn’t died—quite the opposite. Lumber was, perhaps, among their priorities, and was a major driver for their tiresome out–of–city traveling. It was expensive in both money and labor. But now, a tentative hope had kindled, a new curiosity arisen. Any nearby source, infantile as it was, would make them happy. The nature of the tree’s growth led them to believe it was their goddess who had gifted them with this forest, and a feast was held in her honor.

Only she knew differently. She could not grant such things, and even she knew this was nothing ordinary for a tree. She decided to keep an eye on it in case the saplings grew as fast as the first one.

And indeed they did. Overnight the other saplings had shot up as quickly as their predecessor, some shorter and some larger. A cluster of more saplings appeared with them, and they too grew quickly. The goddess watched incredulously as the cycle continued until eventually, five months after the first lone sapling’s appearance, a dense and teeming forest had taken its place. It was unlike anything she was accustomed to—the forest was massive and sprawling. Initially, she disliked the sense of claustrophobia it brought her; where were the flat plains, the rolling hills? But the forest did not encroach any nearer, only receding and stretching. From within it came peculiar sounds she had never heard before. There were bestial calls—some of which appeared to sound only nocturnally, which she admitted intrigued her greatly. Birdsong became a constant. There was a constant rhythmic churning of water, the volume of which she struggled to comprehend. 

The goddess was both unnerved and fascinated. There was so much to look at, so much noise. From the beginning it was clear that this forest was not normal—even from afar she could feel the powerful thrum of magic not unlike her own, but its aura was different. The most important thing, however, was that it seemed safe for the Wilderlains, as she saw them go in and out of the forest multiple times. They were unaware how she hovered protectively about them at first whenever they approached the forest, suspicious and afraid for their safety…but nothing happened. There were no consequences as trees were cut down, and new ones sprung up in their place. Whatever was in this forest seemed to wish no harm on these mortals, even encouraging their actions.

During the sixth month of the forest’s existence, she decided to muster her courage and investigate it from within. She made her way to the edge of the forest and eyed it warily. The thrum of magic was more powerful here, at its border…but not overwhelming. It flowed outwards, toward her, like a calm river.

She stepped into the forest and relaxed as it immediately grew cooler. The cover of the towering trees cast a shifting brindle of light on the ground. She couldn’t stop a smile from forming at the feeling of springy grass underneath, so unusual from its normal rough texture. The myriad of leaves hummed and swayed. Her surroundings were thick with plants—different flowers of varying colors, bushes almost as tall as she, and other plants that the goddess could not identify littered the place and slightly bowed in her direction. A small warbling bird even landed on the tip of her uppermost wing as she traversed the forest, and she stopped to study it for a moment. The transformation, as instant as it was, did not feel very different to stepping into the dreams of a human. 

There was once a small boy who had repeated nightmares. She had come to know him well because of this, and every day, his mother would come in to tell him stories. Some of them were fantastical in nature (those were her favorite), but some of them were simpler. Descriptions of their surroundings. Stories of nature. One of them had been about an enchanted forest, abundant with life and magic, and that one always seemed to soothe the boy quicker than the others. As the goddess walked through the forest, she could indeed understand why.

The deeper she traveled, the stronger the hum of energy became until it was as though the magic itself was woven into every blade of grass and leaf. Each time she took a step, an almost miniscule bundle of white flowers sprouted in the shallow indents. The goddess followed her instinct and the stream of magic, quietly admiring the forest all the way. Everything was so new…she could scarcely believe it lay on the same land as The Wilderlands.

The bird on her wing trilled as she neared a small clearing, the trees breaking away to form a ring around it. She stopped and stared.

Sitting on the rock, sunbathing, was a woman she had never seen before. It was as if she was crafted from the very forest itself in all its untamed beauty—the first thing she noticed was the set of bone-white antlers. They stemmed from thick, brown curls, longer than any hair the goddess had ever seen. She wanted to run her fingers through it. Her antlers shone with every shift of light; they were covered in gold cuffs and draping threads. She wore naught but a thin pale pink robe that hung off her body and joined loosely at her chest. Her gold-decorated wrist dangled off the rock—she was the epitome of leisure. The young goddess was captivated, unable to tear her gaze away.

She was startled out of her entrancement as the bird gave a soft chirp from its place on her wing, and fluttered over to the goddess on the rock. It settled instead on an outreaching branch of her antlers. She stirred at the movement, and her eyes opened to reveal a dark gaze. She must have immediately registered the goddess’s presence, and she stilled as she looked in her direction.

She slid down from the rock, her limbs moving in a serpentine grace. She smiled.

“I have been waiting for you to enter this forest for a long time,” she said, amused. “But you seem to have caught me off guard. What should I call you, to make this a bit easier?”

The goddess inclined her head and hoped she appeared thoughtful. From the moment the stranger had smiled, her mind had turned to putty, her heart hammering, and she raced to organize her thoughts. 

Names were a difficult thing, anyway. No one had ever asked her about that. No one had ever addressed her directly in the first place. The First People had given her a name, but it was only one of many, and all of them true. She had never taken one for her own, however. She shrugged. “Well…I will take on whatever you wish to name me.”

The stranger gave her an inquisitive look and cocked her head, causing a faint motion of the gold threads. After a long look, she spoke. “You have kept to yourself for a long time, so I suppose it is only natural that you don’t remember me. It is funny how our paths should cross.” She chuckled.

There certainly was something faintly familiar about her, though it was so vague Lunette had a hard time pinpointing why. The way she spoke, the way her aura felt…surely she would not forget meeting such an enchanting soul. But there was only one instance where they would have met. “My memory fails me, but I have not forgotten entirely the time where others visited me. Were you among them?”

There was a gleam of satisfaction in the other’s eyes. “Indeed I was. The birth of a goddess is no small event. We were all curious.” Her smile turned wry, as if she were recalling a memory. “In fact, we are close in age. I was shadowing another as an apprentice of sorts…he is most likely the one you remember.” Suddenly, she perked up. “Ah! What about Lunette?”

“Lunette?”

“As a name!”

…It certainly sounded easy on the ears. But then again, she didn’t know much about names. Lunette nodded in acceptance, turning the name around in her mind. She liked it. “And what about yourself?”

The goddess cast her gaze to the side sheepishly. “I also go by many names, but there is one that I have grown rather fond of: Arabella. It just rolls so well off the tongue, don’t you think, my friend?”

“Friend?” Lunette echoed, puzzled. “We may have met once, but only briefly. You are not yet someone I would call a friend, much less an acquaintance.” Arabella’s mention of shadowing another god made the memories come back unbidden. However faint they were, she still remembered how they treated her—how the nature of her beginning made her an outlier in the eyes of the other gods and goddesses. How none have reached out to her since. The initial excitement faded a fraction, and she suddenly felt a bit uncertain about this one.

But Arabella was unfazed by her tone, and instead walked forward, startling the bird on her antlers. Lunette looked down at her as she approached, trying and failing to resist tensing up.

“Lunette,” Arabella said. “This is my forest. I arrived in order to help these mortals who have gone so long without a supply of materials only a forest could offer. I am not here to cause anyone trouble.” Arabella raised her bronze-skinned hand and held up her palm, watching as small white flowers sprouted from it. Amazed, Lunette momentarily forgot her position and reached out, caressing the petals. Her sharp gauntlets provided a peculiar contrast to the delicate flower, and she quickly drew back her hand in realization.

Arabella laughed, the sound airy and tinkling. “Curiosity is one of the things I value most in this world. You are right. We may not yet be friends, but…would you like to see my forest?”

Lunette evaluated the goddess before her. Arabella, as she liked to call herself, was strange. She exuded an aura that was undeniably as intimidating as a woodland at night. She was still a mystery, but Lunette felt inexplicably drawn to her anyway. Arabella was among those who had visited her all those years ago, but she felt…different, somehow, even if Lunette was still a little wary. Perhaps…they may have something in common that Lunette has yet to discover. She might learn a thing or two from a more experienced goddess, and couldn’t deny her own urge to explore such a different environment. So Lunette agreed.

“Come with me, then. It has been a while since I’ve shown it off to someone new!” she exclaimed happily, and Lunette allowed herself to be whisked away.

Arabella introduced to Lunette various brooks and quaint streams that bubbled energetically at their passing. The Wilderlands weren’t much suited for such things, and Lunette was intrigued to see how each body of water seemed to have a life of its own. Here, they were wild and unrestrained, nothing like the small fountains peppered throughout Wilderlain. There were many new and exciting creatures that Lunette discovered and added to her meager mental litany of animals—for example, she learned that the little brave bird that had accompanied them all the while, still dozing on Arabella’s antlers, was a robin. There were other kinds too, watching them curiously from the branches above, and Arabella taught Lunette how to calm her holy presence—enough to the point where any of them would feel comfortable to land on her wings or shoulders. Lunette slowly and tentatively outstretched her uppermost set of wings and was utterly delighted at how many of the creatures landed on them and snuggled into the feathers. She was particularly interested in the great brown and black-spotted ones, which Arabella called owls. There were other beasts too, grounded and four-legged. At one point Arabella stopped to feed a particular animal that came across their path, one that looked uncannily similar to her with its large antlers and big soulful eyes. It had nudged at Lunette curiously with its wet nose, and she ignored Arabella’s snicker at Lunette’s awkward petting. They also spotted a magnificent, hulking beast leading two small cubs to a stream and swiping at passing fish, to which they both kept their distance.

She learned that the trees could grow even taller and that their roots ran deeper and farther than she could fathom. When Lunette asked if it was okay for the trees to be chopped down, Arabella explained that it was necessary to keep them a certain way for human use. She also assured Lunette that the trees in her forest were different from normal trees, that their very design was to provide. The most impressive sight, however, was a large cliff of boulders in which water cascaded down it like a sapphire curtain. Arabella called it a “waterfall”, which only reinforced Lunette’s thoughts on human-made names. She recognized the rhythmic churning of the water as the sound she had heard earlier. It was a sight she could stare at for hours.

The forest was so… alive . It was almost an overload of new information, but Lunette found that she didn’t mind much. It was nothing like how she had thought it would be, nothing like what she was used to. 

But the forest wasn’t the only sight to behold.

Unlike Lunette’s clumsy movements and clanking armor, Arabella traversed as though she were born from the very roots and pebbles of the forest; she was barefoot, but stepped easily on the uneven terrain and casually communicated with passing animals, sometimes even whispering conversationally to the plants. Arabella had been a goddess for a bit longer than Lunette, and her domain spread wherever it was needed most. Most of the time, it was out of her control where it headed. Any doubt that Lunette held previously had dwindled the more she interacted with Arabella, the more she was exposed to her inherently kind nature. She was patient, even pleased whenever Lunette was enraptured with a new thing, which happened near constantly.  

Lunette was utterly charmed with her experience. The last vestiges of day were disappearing beyond the horizon by the time they bid farewell, but Lunette had not felt the passing of time. And long after she had left the forest, Lunette found her mind returning to the time she spent with Arabella. The excitement of new things, and so many of them at once, had tired her out. Lunette didn’t know the last time she ever felt tired, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. The kind that left her wanting for more. The forest’s arrival was no longer a mystery, and it had interrupted her life in the best way.

Lunette returned to the forest again and again after that day, at first blaming it on her innate curiosity but quickly coming to realize that she simply enjoyed spending time with Arabella. A balance between her duties as the Wilderlain’s goddess and company spent with Arabella could be found. Perhaps it was her longing for the companionship of another of her kind, one who clearly didn’t scorn her, or maybe it was just Arabella’s personality that kept Lunette coming back. Either way, it was time well spent, in Lunette’s opinion.

She had a strange ability to be able to find Arabella wherever she was in her vast forest. Sometimes the latter was in the same clearing where they had first met. Other times she would be surrounded by a host of creatures and plants, tending carefully to them and speaking softly in a language only they seemed to know. Or she was sleeping in a bed of flowers, roots blanketed protectively about her. She seemed to know every time Lunette entered her forest, and was always eager to join in her company. A warmth brimmed in Lunette’s core every time she would see her smile greeting her from afar. They would talk for hours, exchanging stories and experiences, and the awkward formality of first meetings melted away. Often they would simply be near each other in companionable silence.

One time, Arabella confessed to Lunette that she too was born of humans, but not completely. It was why she was tolerated more than Lunette, but had grown distant from the other deities over time. Upon hearing this, Lunette told her that the company of humans was better than any uptight god anyway.

The months blurred into years, and they met every other day, neither tiring of the other. Lunette felt the imprint left by Arabella burrow deeper and deeper, a desire to see her aching her heart night after night; a brush from her hand burning time after time. Some memories stood out more than others: Arabella placing an elegantly made flower-crown on her head as the two of them watched over a group of humans picking berries in the forest; Arabella taking her to see newly arrived fawns of a herd of fallow deer, Lunette resisting the strong urge to steal one for herself; Lunette falling asleep as Arabella preened her wings with experienced hands. There was even one time where Lunette went to stand underneath the waterfall just to know how it felt, only to fall victim to its deceiving true force—and hearing Arabella’s roaring laughter from behind her. Her wings had been soaked through and useless for days afterwards, but it had been so worth it.

One day, in the infancy of the autumn season, they sat shoulder to shoulder on the crest of a small naked hill. It overlooked a willowy dell; tall, spindling trees stood silent vigil over a narrow gurgling stream in the dip. The endless swath was beginning to adopt the earthly shades of rich browns and golds, but it was not so cold yet as to hinder the gentle warmth of the setting sunlight. Lunette sighed as the rays licked at her face. It was another day of the two of them wordlessly enjoying each other’s company, and Lunette was content to sit in silence—when she felt a tap on the pauldrons at her shoulder. 

Arabella had lain beside her in light dozing, but Lunette quickly realized she had actually been in deep thought. She had sat up to face Lunette, who tilted her head in intrigue. “What is it?”

“Well,” Arabella began bashfully,”…I wanted to give you something.” She held up her hand, and with a small curl of vines produced a shining object sitting on her palm. It was a gem—smooth and rounded, with a center like living darkness, as if a black moon had been captured from the sky to hang in its middle. Entranced, Lunette leaned forward slightly to study it. 

Arabella ran a thumb along the gem. “In human speech, it is called a Nimbus Eye,” she began. “They are extremely rare things, said to stabilize its owner’s core—to grant spiritual balance. To many, they are also the symbol for divine protection.” With her other hand, Arabella pinched her index finger and thumb together and ran them along the air. As she did, she fabricated a fine gold thread similar to the very ones that decorated her. She attached it seamlessly to the Nimbus Eye. “For you, my friend. A gift for our growing kinship.” 

Stunned into silence, Lunette could only bow her head as Arabella reached over and slipped the necklace around her neck with the utmost care. The gem laid just beneath Lunette’s chestplate. As it rested against her skin, she could feel a faint protective energy emanating from the cold gem. “There is some merit to the humans’ legends then, it seems,” she said with wonder.

Lunette looked up to meet Arabella’s gaze, the words dying in her throat. It came at the sight of Arabella’s satisfied expression as she studied Lunette—at her hand still resting at her exposed neck. Lunette noted how the fading light set her smooth dark skin aglow, how it brought out the flecks of black in her eyes. She felt an unexpected surge of warmth, as if the sunlight had pierced through her armor and skin.

The heat in Lunette was bubbling up, growing to an overwhelming degree—and so Lunette acted upon them, not knowing what else to do. In one movement she surged forward and swept the startled goddess up in a hug, mindful of the sharper points of her armor. Her four great wings splayed out, almost with a mind of their own, and wrapped around Arabella’s body in a feathery embrace. Lunette buried her nose in the other’s thick hair, right between her antlers, and sighed in contentment. The Wilderlains did this many times, especially when giving gifts to one another, and she only now discovered that they were indeed onto something. “Thank you,” she said, her voice drenched in all the sincerity she felt brewing in her heart. “I will guard and care for this gift with my life. You are too kind to me.”

She felt Arabella’s body trembling. Lunette pulled back quickly, concerned that she was too rough, or if she had said something worth offense. But what she saw instead was Arabella laughing; her shoulders shook with effort, her nose scrunched and…she was smiling, but not unkindly. The laughter subsided, and Arabella looked up at her with a fond shake of her head. “I could give you far more valuable presents—there is no need for such a grave reaction.”

But Lunette could feel the nearly indiscernible shake of Arabella’s hands, which were clasped against her chestplate, and the darkening of her cheeks. For some reason, this reaction pleased Lunette. “I have…been given many things before. Offerings and such. But not something so precious, nor by someone so dear. You can’t blame me,” she added teasingly.

Arabella gave another small snort of laughter. Lunette retracted her wings as Arabella moved back, still with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Fine, fine. You are right. I’m glad you like it. It suits you.” 

And Lunette felt her own words were the truth. Lunette was not well versed in what humans considered valuable, but the gift felt more personal than any offering at a shrine or a temple. Lunette brought the Nimbus Eye out from beneath her chestplate and felt its lustrous texture again. Whether or not it actually helped to balance one’s core remained to be seen, but it was still a prize in itself. The thought gently broke her from her musings, and brought forth a question she had long considered but thought it rude to ask. “Do you have any worshippers, Arabella?”

Arabella had been gazing at her with an indescribable look. She turned back to face the dell. “I am…unsure,” she answered after a pause, absentmindedly playing with the thin fabric of her robes. “Perhaps I do, somewhere in this world where my forests have touched. I mean, I must, else I would not be here. I am not confined to one region, you see, so there may be some shrine or other dedicated to me…but they are things I have yet to see.”

Lunette made a noise of acknowledgment. Arabella’s voice had a detached quality to it, and Lunette knew better than to pry. Although privately, she couldn’t see a world where shrines and temples weren’t made for such a being. It was only natural to worship someone like Arabella, she thought. The two of them sank back into a comfortable lull, their talk spilling into idle chatter that continued until the white face of the moon hung heavy in the sky. At some point Arabella had curled herself onto the grass, her head resting in Lunette’s lap. Lunette was incredulous at how she even found comfort in laying upon armor. She must have fallen asleep some time ago. Her expression was so peaceful, so relaxed…it was the same expression many humans had when they slept. It was just one thing they had in common, Lunette supposed. She briefly wondered if she could enter a goddess’s dreams.

Unwilling to leave her here and with great care, Lunette scooped her up in her arms and stood. The shifting of her metal armor seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of nightfall, but still Arabella did not wake. Lunette unfurled her wings, quiet as an owl’s, and took off with a strong buffet. She knew her course by heart, the place of their initial meeting and Arabella’s favorite resting place.

As she arrived and Lunette bent to gently lower Arabella to the ground, there sat bunches of little white flowers. They stretched and curled towards the antlered goddess as if to welcome her back, and already her blanket of roots were splitting the ground to cover her. Lunette touched the Eye again and waved goodbye to the plants. Once she was sure Arabella was secure, Lunette—reluctantly—returned to Wilderlain.

…

The years lengthened. 

Lunette noticed a change in Wilderlain. The arrival of the forest had hastened about their prime, and now, Lunette noted with some pride, they seemed both happier and healthier. The landscape of the city changed dramatically and rapidly, with their buildings larger and sturdier. It grew both upwards and outwards. The marketplace swelled and overflowed with abundant foods and new trinkets that Lunette didn’t have a name for. 

That included her High Temple. The additional supplies meant it gained a certain ornate quality as it was remodeled and expanded, and Lunette was glad to see that the belltower had remained. Quenn Rivenlar, a sister of her temple, spearheaded the changes. Lunette made sure to grant her a week’s worth of extra-deep sleep afterwards for her efforts.

Similarly, it seemed that the quality of life had increased, for now Lunette found herself having to tend to nightmares less and less. Rare became the times that Lunette would have to help in their night-hunting. Perhaps she should feel some dismay at this—coupled with this being an age of exploration, there was little for Lunette to do other than continue to watch over them the same way she had been doing for centuries prior. Strangely enough, though, boredom never found her, not with the extra time it gave to visit Arabella.

But Lunette discovered that change did not only extend itself to her and her humans. Arabella started to…disappear, sometimes for weeks at a time. Her forest would remain, unequable if not a little less magical. The first time it happened, Lunette was beside herself with panic. She was heartbroken when she couldn’t find Arabella, and thought that she had driven her off somehow. And then Lunette had discovered a message sitting on Arabella’s favorite rock, her elegant hand written in the divine language—her forest had urged her elsewhere, to desolate lands desperate for the aid only she could provide, and that she would return soon.

Lunette felt peculiarly hurt at first. Arabella was more careful in letting her know when she’d be gone after that, but those times were still hard to go through. Even if it was temporary, Lunette had never known something as valuable as Arabella and her attention. But it was an adjustment she had to make all the same, for both of their divine obligations came above all else. She knew this well. When Arabella would return, Lunette would smother her in hugs (which she had become very fond of) until it looked like Arabella was about to wilt from lack of breathing room. During the time she was gone, Lunette would overextend in her own duties, few as they had become. And it was while watching them that she found something noteworthy. It was the final stamp to a decision Lunette had been stewing on for a while.

“So…you have never stepped foot outside your forest?” Lunette ventured, trying to come off as casual. Arabella had just returned from one of her expeditions. It had apparently brought her to a small village, deep in another god’s domain. 

“I have never had any reason to.”

It was the dead of winter, Lunette’s favorite season. The nights were always more clear, more crisp. The world around them was a blanket of white, broken only by the stark brown of the tree trunks. An ermine (Lunette proudly identified) leaped across the snowbank and onto the stream before them, frozen over in a thin sheet of ice. Arabella crouched next to it, inspecting the water still running underneath. She wore a long thick coat of the most radiant blue, lined with a soft downy fur. The hem cut into the snow, creating the most mesmerizing frosted look, to which Lunette didn’t even try to hide her staring. She had cast off her own heavy armor and instead emulated the winter garb of Wilderlain—light, but inlaid with fur.

Lunette hummed. She sensed she was straying into uncharted territory, like she had all those years ago. But this time, she decided to push a little further. Lunette crouched down to Arabella’s height and reached out to clasp her hand. “Allow me to show you something,” she urged in a soft voice. Arabella turned. “There is a special event happening tonight; it is an event that humans celebrate once every five years.”

Arabella frowned. There was uncertainty in her expression.

Lunette pressed the lightest of kisses to Arabella’s uncovered hand and heard her breath hitch. “Let me show you the very best of humans,” Lunette repeated. “Well, my humans anyway. I want you to see what lies beyond this forest. It is magical, but perhaps not in the way you are used to.”

“I do not know.” Arabella wavered, her fingers curling absently around Lunette’s. She reached up with her other hand to smooth the fur of her coat. “I’m…” she trailed off, clearly torn. But she let Lunette pull her to feet. Lunette laid a hand on her cheek and drew her gaze.

“I will not force you,” she said, truly meaning it despite the flutter in her heart. “And if you choose to accompany me and do not feel comfortable, then we can come back.”

Arabella searched Lunette’s face, and for what Lunette did not know, only that she must have found what she was looking for. She agreed, however a bit reluctantly, to let Lunette take her. The whole day Lunette was giddy with excitement, watching intently as the humans prepared for their festivities and the sun sank further and further. When it was time to meet Arabella at the edge of the forest, Lunette could hardly keep her wings from dancing in anticipation.

The soft crunch of snow underfoot heralded Arabella’s arrival. Her arms were hugging each other underneath her thick cloak, no less uncertain than earlier. Lunette wordlessly guided her arms to hook around her own instead as an offer of security, which Arabella took gladly. Lunette restrained her excitement and led her the short distance away to the outskirts of Wilderlain. 

The trees receded behind them until it bled into a flat white land and a naked starlit sky. Around them were peppered quaint and lonesome homesteads, some bearing the weight of recent snowfall and laying dormant, no lights to be seen. The homes were surrounded by pockets of tilled land with snow packed around the grooves in the earth like a slow-roiling sea. It had always been one of Lunette’s favorite parts of Wilderlain, as it reminded her of its early history and humble origins. They passed more than a few fenced-off paddocks, and Arabella would detach from Lunette’s side to happily greet the horses that came trotting over. 

Soon the long, squat homesteads turned into clusters of sturdy buildings that rose up higher around Lunette and Arabella. The razor-thin layer of ice melted away from the packed street, signs of increased foot traffic, but there was still an unusual emptiness around. Arabella had lagged slightly, her footfalls a tad later than Lunette’s, and her grip around her arm had tightened. But still Lunette led her, hoping her confidence was enough to assure the goddess. 

It wasn’t until they rounded a bend in the road that they came upon the first sighting of people. Before them the road continued until it joined a longer, wider one that extended beyond their sight. There came a constant stream of people dressed not dissimilarly to the goddesses’ own garments. The direction they were heading had a faint warm glow emanating from some unknown point. It cast alluring shadows on whatever it touched, and there was the muffled sound of music and mingled voices. Distracted by it, Lunette shivered at the light touch of something wet on her nose. She looked up to see dense gray clouds blocking out the stars and sending down their own. She could only barely make out the milky light of the moon straining to shine.

They stood unseen and unheard by the passing humans. But even so, Lunette avoided the main street and took Arabella down a series of alleyways and backstreets. The darkness had deepened by the loss of the pale moonlight, but it allowed Lunette’s own faint silver aura to shine forth as a beacon that she hoped lessened Arabella’s anxiety. 

They reached a street where it became obvious that this was the last stop before their true destination. The two of them had been silent during the whole journey, and now Lunette turned to Arabella. If possible, she seemed both more at ease and more apprehensive. She was still drawn close to Lunette’s side, and her dark gaze was fixed to the end of the alleyway. Lunette extended two of her wings to rest protectively around Arabella, who was broken out of whatever musings were brewing in her mind. Lunette smiled, and pulled her into the commotion.

The nerves melted off Arabella’s face into an expression of hesitant awe. The street had opened into a massive square. It was surrounded on all sides by buildings strung together with veins of shimmering streamers of blue, silver, and gold. The same ribbons twirled around trunks of trees and hedges lining the square. Beating back the night and the chill was a multitude of iron sconces and braziers. Brightly colored stalls packed every available space, and from somewhere came loud and exuberant music. It was clear why the streets leading up to the square were empty: here the Wilderlains congregated, bundled in warm clothes, rosy-cheeked and laughing. Children freely ran underfoot. 

No one heeded the two of them, and after a moment of Arabella soaking it in, Lunette drew her attention to the one thing she had wanted to show her the most. “Look there,” she said, pointing to the center of the square. There, standing tall and proud upon a large plinth and borne of dark marble was a statue. Face obscured, she wore elaborate armor that was decorated with small winding motifs of moons and leaves, and beheld a many-rayed star in her outstretched hand. One set of wings was pressed to her side, while the other two stretched to encompass her companion: a great stag, whose proud head was haloed in the same fashion as the star.

Arabella sucked in a gasp at seeing the statue, and that’s how Lunette knew she had understood at once. 

Over the years Arabella had been subject to many a tangent, and probably knows Lunette’s domain more intimately than any other. Sometimes those tangents would include humans in one way or another, and their fascinating practices and behaviors. She knew of the statue of Lunette and how they treated her as their patron, and how for many years the forest’s arrival had been accredited to Lunette. But she had not known one thing: that era had ended, and her name recognized. Arabella had not gone unnoticed.

The Stag ran under the Moon, and the Moon lit its way. Sen Minathriel and Sen Terranthien, protectors of Wilderlain, neither more primary than the other.

Lunette had to will her feathers to smoothen as they began to fluff up in elation at Arabella’s reaction. She gently grasped her hand and tugged her into the crowd, who parted for them unknowingly like water over rocks. She seemed in higher spirits after seeing the statue, not as nervous at being around people. Lunette pointed things out to her, people that had come up in their talks: there was Yanril Hightree, selling draughts and natural medicines that had made Lunette’s job easier over time; walking arm in arm was Juno and Tilan Abhdar, esteemed sculptors who helped design the statue; mulling over a food stall was Ceira Solomon, devout priestess of Lunette’s High Temple. And so on.

But mostly Lunette was content to watch Arabella. Her interest was almost childlike in its innocence, and brought Lunette endless joy to see her so unburdened for once. Sometimes she would even leave her side to inspect something closely, marveling at every detail.

The Lady of Wilderlain, Lady Everina, was giving a customary speech that Lunette wasn’t paying much attention to. Lunette had always thought Everina to be a perfectly average leader, with perfectly average things to say. And besides, she had heard this many times before. But Arabella was fixed on her, drinking in every word that left her lips.

“So this is to bless the coming crops?” she asked, parroting what Everina was saying. “And for safe and healthy spring births?”

Lunette nodded. Their winters were mild, but even they could not escape all the hardships that came with it.

“I thought you were the only one they prayed to?” Arabella inquired, glancing up at Lunette. 

“I am their patron, and this is my domain, but I am not their only god,” Lunette explained. “My abilities lie with the moon and the night, and so there are others.” After a moment, she added, “It must be the same for you? You cannot be everywhere at once. Surely there are other forest deities.”

Arabella shrugged, disturbing the fresh snowflakes that had settled on her shoulders. Lunette moved to wipe them off. “There are. I have met only a few, but only in passing.” Lunette waited for her to elaborate, but kept quiet when it was clear she had nothing else to say. A topic for another day, then.

Eventually they had meandered to a section of the festival where the commotion was loudest. It was the source of the music they had heard playing throughout the time they had been wandering, a fast-paced and jovial tune with many dips and rises. A great crowd surrounded a clearing with many more still on balconies or hanging out windows, clapping and shouting at whatever was happening in the middle. Lunette wasted no time—she held Arabella tightly and fluttered to a nearby rooftop, the surface smooth and flat.

In the middle of the circle were several people dancing in tandem to the music. Each footstep was light, each fluid movement of their bodies synced and encouraged by the rhythmic clapping. Despite the sheen on their brows and the color in their cheeks, the dancers’ held wild and carefree smiles.

Arabella leaned down to watch, her head tilted. “What are they doing?”

“It’s called dancing,” Lunette said without taking her eyes away from Arabella. It was something she’d seen countless times before. And although she’d never tire of it, there was something—or someone—else who set her heart on a much faster pace. “Shall I show you?”

Arabella yelped in protest but it was too late. With a mischievous smile, Lunette had grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close, her other hand coming to interlock their fingers. This was a composition she knew by heart, and so Lunette integrated them effortlessly into the routine.

She could see Arabella try to keep up, but the constant twisting and twirling was causing her to stumble a little, and Lunette had to lean back more than once to avoid the sharp points of her antlers. But never did she let go. 

“Don’t swim against the tide,” she murmured into her ear. Lunette had her in a position where Arabella’s back was pressed against her chest, and from here Lunette could smell the rich scent of earth and flora that always accompanied the other. “Let it guide you.” At this point the snow had become heavier, but she felt no chill from its touch. Their dance sent the surrounding flakes in a little flurry of their own.

“Easy for you to say!” Arabella squeaked as Lunette spun her out, her cheeks darkened. “You’ve had decades to practice!”

Lunette couldn’t stop the rumbling laugh that left her. She decided not to tell Arabella yet that this was, in fact, her first time dancing with a partner too. 

But still Arabella closed her eyes, and Lunette could spot the moment she surrendered herself to the bouncing music lifting from the square, to the taps of soles upon stone and the voices rising up as one. She visibly relaxed, the tension draining from her muscles. Lunette was impressed at how quickly Arabella began to mimic her movements until she was returning them in full and then some, the two of them moving in perfect synchronicity. 

Lunette laughed again, this time out of the unrestrained lightness that filled her entire being. It was a high Lunette was sure to revisit many times over after this, and the sound must have brought Arabella out of her concentration. She opened her eyes, and whatever she saw looking back at her caused her to break out in a wide grin, not unlike those of the dancers below. 

“Look at you! You’re a natural,” Lunette complimented as she dipped Arabella, the tips of her antlers creating tiny grooves in the gathering snow. “Never would’ve thought you didn’t know what dancing was until five minutes ago.”

Arabella chuckled, her hand sliding up Lunette’s arm for purchase. “You can thank my awe-inspiring skill to adapt to any situation,” she joked, and Lunette marveled at the golden lights reflected in her dark irises like many small stars.

For the duration of the dance, as far as Lunette was concerned it was just the two of them in the entire world. There were no responsibilities, no long stretches of time where Arabella was away, no pantheon of gods who shunned them, no slowly changing world. It was just them, the Moon and the Stag, and Lunette wanted to live in this moment forever.

The shouts below became more fierce and joyous and the music swelled into its final breaths. They broke apart and came together one final time, and Lunette drew Arabella in close. She looked down at her, acutely aware of Arabella’s touch on her upper arms, the splay of her own hand against Arabella’s back and waist. The lack of Lunette’s armor, usually a barrier for touch, suddenly became apparent to Lunette. Even as the music finally died down, the echoes of its frantic energy lingered. Even as applause and roars of approval erupted from down below, neither of them pulled away. 

It wasn’t physically possible for Lunette to feel tired, but her heart pounded all the same, hammering at her ribs so intensely she was sure Arabella could feel it too. But something told her it wasn’t so different for Arabella either. She was staring up at Lunette like she personally hung the moon and stars, her breath coming out in small clouds. Little snowflakes landed and melted amidst her brown hair and eyelashes, and Lunette resisted the urge to wipe them away.

The air was pregnant, delicate, charged with a tension Lunette somehow dreaded deeply and yet had waited for her entire life.

Arabella’s expression softened, an impossibly fond smile teasing at her lips and defrosting everything around them. After a heartbeat, she hesitatingly moved a hand up towards Lunette’s face.

If it was anyone else, they would have been dead long before their finger even twitched in her direction. Lunette stood still, not daring to move even the smallest muscle, transfixed and wholly bare before her, as she was and is and always would be.

Arabella took this as a sign to proceed and laid her hand on the side of Lunette’s face, cupping her jaw. Suddenly Lunette was a woman starved of touch, and she leaned into her palm as Arabella’s fingers sifted into her hair. 

What smoldered and blistered for this person in front of her was beyond Lunette’s power to define. Maybe it all started with the first step she took into a strange, rich forest on the edge of the grasslands. Maybe it happened during one of those countless nights spent together doing nothing at all, or maybe it had been written long before Lunette even came into being. But fate was a funny thing. 

All Lunette knew was that she was in deep .

“You’re beautiful,” Arabella breathed out in awe, her eyes never leaving Lunette’s for even a second. Even as the lights around them began to dim, as the sounds of the festival lessened. 

Lunette didn’t trust herself to say anything, and instead reached up to brush away accumulating snow from Arabella’s hair. Her heart leaped at the stuttered breath she gave. Lunette leaned forward and pressed her lips to Arabella’s forehead, letting it linger there for a moment longer to emphasize the unspoken promise she was making. And then, Arabella kissed her. 

Whatever image Lunette had had of what kissing Arabella felt like flew out the window. It was so much better than that—the soft slide of her lips, the small noise of effort as Arabella surged upward to wrap herself around her. The entire forest was contained in that kiss, the entire force of Arabella’s emotions transferred through an electric current so unique to Arabella’s existence. And again Lunette found herself never wanting to leave.

They were divine, and they were human. Where words failed, actions sufficed. From that moment on, this memory became a rock for Lunette, the core of her being that kept her tethered to all it was she knew of love and being loved.

…

Some time later saw the two of them perched on a covered balcony, the owners long having retreated into the comfort of their home while the snow continued to float down. They watched the festivities dwindle in amicable silence, Lunette too full of swirling giddiness and emotion to spark any meaningful conversation. Oh well, wasn’t this a type of conversation anyway? One of their favorite kinds.

Many of the Wilderlains had retired for the night, especially those with little ones, and the jovial music and laughter had settled into something far more intimate, with those left basking in what Lunette guessed was the same sort of deep, heady relaxation she felt herself. 

Arabella leaned into Lunette’s side, nearly buried under the mountain of feathers provided by Lunette’s wings wrapped around her, and Lunette would’ve thought her asleep had she not poked her face out from under her wings.

“They do know that a stag is a male deer, right?” 

Confusion flashed through Lunette’s mind until she remembered the statue. She stared at it in thought. “Oh, are they?”

She felt the vibrations of Arabella’s chuckle against her side. “They are. Most female deer lack antlers, and they are called does.”

“Huh.” Lunette remembered the creature that looked similar to Arabella, but besides that one instance, she had only seen the elusive beasts a handful of times. They were skittish even around her. In any case, none had antlers as magnificent as Arabella’s. “Want me to make them change it?”

After a moment of thought, Arabella shook her head. “No…I quite like the way it is. Humans are…well, tonight has been very eye-opening. In more ways than one.” Another chuckle, mischievous, and Lunette felt heat crawl up her neck. 

“I have never seen something like this,” she added more quietly, and snuggled closer into Lunette, who smiled privately. Arabella didn’t have to say more.

…

The years slipped away as was their nature, fluid as sand between Lunette’s fingers. Later, she would hold those years as the best time of her life, and cradle them in her heart as though they were fragile things in danger of cracking. But as she was living it, it was in a state of bliss only in rival to that night where they danced and kissed. 

Lunette found it endearing that Arabella turned out to be rather shy at first. Where previously she had accepted her gifts with grace and charm, now there was a note of charming demureness beneath it all, as if their kiss had heightened the intentions behind them. Whether it was a crudely made flower crown or necklace, small gems or rocks, or bundles of flowers that Lunette saw humans giving to those they loved—she treated Lunette’s gifts more tenderly than before, and sometimes Lunette caught her eyeing the Nimbus Eye, still corded around Lunette’s neck, with an appreciative glint.

Time passed so quickly when you had someone to love. 

The Nimbus Eye proved to be an exceptional relic, dashing away any doubts in Lunette’s mind. The Wilderlains were growing restless. She had watched them be content in being where they were for a long time, but they were no longer that cluster of small, humble homes and fields that were fixed in Lunette’s earliest memories. They were emboldened, growing more powerful by the day as their rather rapid progress opened up new pathways and opportunities. 

There was a King now. Not a Lord, but someone that the others seemed to defer to with even more reverence. Some of them even claimed that he had been endorsed by Lunette herself. Lunette didn’t know what to think of it. All that mattered to her was Wilderlain’s safety, but something in her faltered at the idea of the Wilderlains looking to expand outward. It all seemed much more complicated than she was aware of. Nevertheless, many groups decided to break off from the main body of Wilderlain to form their own small villages. And as their population swelled and more and more new minds entered her keep, the Nimbus Eye burned in effort as it infused its energy into stabilizing Lunette’s own. 

Sometimes she felt like she was drawn tight, like too little butter spread across toast. The Eye helped to manage that, but it did nothing for the inklings of concern that had arisen at the sight of the Wilderlains. For her near-constant thoughts of Arabella. Even then, she watched. As she had always done, for there was no place for her in meddling with humans. 

…

While Lunette grew, so did Arabella. She felt more powerful than ever, felt the surging energy of her forests leaping around in her body like a poorly contained hare. She might have been the guardian of her lands, but the forest had always had a mind of its own, albeit a simple one. Still, it was more fidgety these days, and sometimes Arabella felt like she could run for hours on end without stopping just to rid herself of its squirming energy.

It was a feeling she had long forgotten could be considered strange. When she was shadowing other gods, she saw how those who were similar to her handled it. How even if they were far away from something happening, they could still start walking and end up there anyway. One time she tried explaining this to Lunette—dear, sweet Lunette—but the concept wouldn’t really stick. She was aware of everything that happened within the forest, an awareness right under the skin. Which is why she felt the disturbance so clearly.

Arabella had just finished helping a warbler chick back into its nest—reassuring the worried mother that he was not hurt in the slightest, thank goodness for that patch of clovers—when something tingled at the far reaches of her mind like a mental itch. Arabella pulled away and frowned. She shook her head, but the feeling did not go away. It was hard to describe, but she was at least sure that the feeling was not malevolent, as it did not cause her head to ache like a mental thorn. 

By now, Arabella had spent many lifetimes of men in this patch of forest, and nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. It was partly why she was comfortable leaving it unguarded for weeks at a time, if one did not count Lunette as its secondary guardian. But whatever disturbance had poked up was in this area, not in one of her other domains. 

Her interest piqued, and maybe a little twinge of nervousness, but nevertheless she had a duty to perform. Arabella followed her intuition towards the source. Maybe a human had left something here by accident? Surely many of the more nature-inclined ones had popped up over the years, and some of them Arabella swore could even rival her in time spent in her forest. Perhaps Lunette had appeared there unwittingly. No, Arabella immediately dismissed the thought—the winged goddess never went anywhere in her forest without Arabella, even when Arabella told her she could. It could be an injured animal…

Arabella was so deep in her musings that as she crossed the terrain, she failed to notice the warnings, slight but unusual, that the forest tried to give her. She absentmindedly brushed off an overhanging branch that dipped down to tap her with a leaf. She didn’t realize how small bushels of thorns or brambles had sprung up to strangle the lush vegetation surrounding it.

Arabella wanted to find the source of this itch and be done with it.

It was not far. She had arrived at the bank of the waterfall she had shown Lunette when they first met. The roar of the rushing crystalline water was still deep in her bones as she stood so close to the falls, but this time she couldn’t find comfort in it. What had been a tingling had grown into a headache, a dull pounding near the base of her skull. 

She wrapped her silken robe tighter around herself, wishing for Lunette’s fluffy wings around her instead. Why couldn’t she have some of those? She looked around and tried to spot anything amiss, which wasn’t as difficult knowing the waterfall had stayed mostly untouched except for the natural wearing of time. This time of year there was a bit more grass and plant growth, for sure, but…there. There was something near the water.

Arabella eyed it. It seemed to be a root of some kind. It abruptly arched out of the ground before diving back in like a petrified, crooked snake. As Arabella approached it, the thrumming became more and more incessant…and there was something else there, too—the familiar energy of her forest, pulling at her mind back towards the safety of the tree cover. 

But that only made her press on, suddenly more determined now that she had seen what was clearly the source of the energy. The root was plain in appearance, except…no. Here the sun pierced its bark just right. It was nearly missable—the root was not brown, but a mahogany red, so deep and rich it could easily be mistaken for dark brown. From where Arabella stood she could see through the gaps in the bark a few hair-like threads of a lighter red, so it appeared as some kind of weird fleshy vein than the natural skin of a root.

Arabella crouched beside it. Besides the irritating headache and the forest being overly protective of her, there was nothing to indicate its purpose. When she sifted her fingertips through the soil, plants refused to sprout anywhere near it. Concerning. She could certainly touch it, but it left a frankly unpleasant residue on her skin. Still, clearly it did not belong. Arabella shook out her antlers and straightened, staring down at the root with furrowed brows. She didn’t exactly want to hurt it, as it did appear to be a plant all things considered…but did it want to hurt her ? 

In the end, she decided reluctantly to leave it be for the moment. But she did will a wall of regular roots to encase it, at least as far as they wanted. Another irregularity. She’ll keep an eye on it.

…

The rest of the day passed without incident, but the next morning Arabella told Lunette about the odd red root. Although, she was less concerned about the root itself and more with the fact that it had Arabella worried. 

“Well…has anything else happened since?” she asked. Lunette didn’t know much about plants other than what Arabella told her.

Arabella shook her head. “I checked again earlier. It’s the same as last time. But I can still feel it, at the back of my mind.”

Lunette made a noise of acknowledgement and searched her thoughts. It’s too bad it wasn’t a human or at least something that could dream…that way Lunette could help Arabella by entering them. And plants didn’t exactly need moonlight to grow either. Well, if it’s just a root then surely they could just cut it? But when she voiced these thoughts to Arabella, she seemed hesitant.

Arabella wrung her hands together. “You can’t just yank roots out,” she huffed. “You have to find its source, and as far as I can tell it has none. I am only calling it a root because it looks like the part.”

Lunette could see her frustration in her face, the beginning traces of fear of the unknown. “All the more reason to try, then.” Lunette stepped forward and gathered Arabella in her arms, taking off without giving her time to react. She wouldn’t have this root causing her to overthink. She beat the air with her wings and glided across the treetops, the waterfall an easy place to locate, and covered the short distance swiftly. Lunette landed and set Arabella down gently.

Once she was on the ground, Arabella swatted Lunette’s arm in mild annoyance, who smiled at her in faux innocence. “Fine, pull it out yourself if you’re so confident,” she grumbled, and a portion of the root wall slithered back into the ground to create an opening. Lunette could see the way Arabella glanced at the root with trepidation, a noticeable shift in attitude from just a little while ago. Perhaps it had weighed heavier on her mind than Lunette initially guessed.

Lunette squeezed her hand in reassurance and turned to examine the root. She didn’t sense as much weird stuff going on as Arabella probably did, but certainly there was a strange quality to it. She stepped up to the root as Arabella hung back, and held out a hand. An ornate double-bladed axe, like two curving halves of a moon forged from silver and stardust, materialized in her hand—the thing was courtesy of the Wilderlains, as weaponry gained a foothold more and more. It was only the second that she’d seen it—the first being wholly occupied with her studying it—and it was an uncomfortable reminder of the current hungry state of Wilderlain. But today it would be put to the test. The sunlight gleamed off the metal of the axe, and Lunette swore she heard a hiss of distaste from the root. Without skipping a beat, she raised the axe and brought it down…

...and sliced it cleanly through without so much as a whisper. 

Lunette hefted the axe over her shoulder and looked down at the remnants of the root, a little surprised herself that there had been no resistance. It didn’t wither or turn to ash or bleed gross liquids, it was just…two pieces instead of one. That seemed to get the job done, but when Lunette turned back to Arabella, she was wearing an expression she’d never seen on her before.

Lunette dematerialized the axe and hurried over to her. “Bella?” Lunette asked, the nickname slipping out, and worriedly placed a hand on her cheek. “Love, what is it?” She tried to swallow down her rapidly growing alarm.

But Arabella did not answer. Lunette wasn’t even sure she heard her. She was staring fixedly at the root, pupils dilated, her breaths coming in short pants. A whimper escaped her lips and she placed her hands over her ears, screwing her eyes shut.

Alarm quickly fell to panic and Lunette rapidly pulled the goddess to her chest. She couldn’t hear anything except the waterfall or see anything beyond what was in front of her, and that scared her. Lunette wrapped both sets of her wings around her in a tight cocoon, lowering them to the ground and trying to calm her down as Arabella’s whimpers became more pained.

She could only keep her close and hope Arabella would come out of whatever was going on. A fierce protectiveness was shouting at her to do something, but after a moment she could feel the tension leaving Arabella and her whimpers died down. She kept silent as her own adrenaline wore off to tired relief. What was in reality probably only a few minutes seemed to have stretched for hours…but when Arabella was willing to speak, it sent chills down Lunette’s spine.

“I am sorry,” she finally croaked. Lunette felt a pang through her heart. “I…I don’t know what came over me. As soon as you cut it off, I heard them.”

“Who?”

“Whispers and screams. They were so loud. It was so much, all at once,” Arabella continued with a sniff. “They sounded so pained, so hurt. But most of all, they were angry.”

Lunette pulled back just enough to see Arabella’s face. A few tears had fallen onto her cheeks, and Lunette reached up to smudge them away, only to have Arabella halt her. She gripped her hand tightly, like a lifeline. “What did they say?” Lunette asked with a frown.

Arabella shook her head mutely, her eyes still far away. “Sometimes I thought I could make out some words. They almost sounded like…no, never mind. Other times it was a language I did not recognize. Old, dead languages, maybe. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know,” Lunette said immediately, resolutely. “What matters is that you’re okay now—that they’re gone.”

A small smile. Arabella slumped against her. “You’re right,” she said with a tired sigh. “Nothing like this has happened before…I guess I am just afraid.”

“And I’ll be here.” Lunette squeezed her tighter. She hadn’t realized her own hands had been shaking, but her voice came out confident. She hoped it helped put Arabella at ease.

She wanted to press further, to find out more. Even weeks after the incident, Lunette would sometimes catch a shiver traveling down Arabella’s spine. It worried her, but Arabella insisted that she had it under control. Which was probably true anyway—it’s not like Lunette could refute that. So despite her fretting, she grudgingly left the topic alone. For now. 

And for a sweet while, her worries remained just that. Nothing happened, if Lunette didn’t count the new undercurrent of tension between them and the way the forest felt a tad bit suffocating in its anxiety. But still, the matter of the root took the back seat in the face of their regular duties. Arabella even left her forest to spend more time with Lunette at Wilderlain, staring wistfully at them. Although, that was another matter entirely for Lunette…

The burden of so many minds was becoming draining. Lunette may have underestimated the Wilderlains the headway they were making, for shortly after Arabella’s discovery of the root, they started…fighting.

Well, maybe fighting wasn’t quite the right term. But they did seem to be preparing for something, something that obviously required the use of weapons. Her own axe was testament to this burgeoning prowess, the token of a craft that was quickly becoming popular. And although the City-Wardens—an order composed of trained volunteers who had helped to protect the city for centuries—were still present and many, another group was forming as well. A much, much larger one, slowly being equipped with similar weapons and armor. It was around this time that the Nimbus Eye began to falter, buckling from the weight of minds, and nightmares seemed to increase in both number and intensity.

A particular name came to mind as of late: Auguste Eswinn, a nobleman who acted as an advisor to the king. Lunette was keeping a close eye on him, for his nightmares had grown near chronic, with repeated themes. It was always the same, with burning villages and the glint of moonlight on hundreds of steel weapons raised triumphantly to the sky. It troubled Lunette, but it troubled her more to see the effect it had on Auguste. He was a good man with a strong moral compass, always pushing his king towards decisions that benefitted Wilderlain and its people first and foremost. But Lunette saw the way the king brushed him off. His worries manifested in the advancement of the army, and now these nightmares plagued him. 

Some small part of Lunette told her that all of this was normal for a city of Wilderlain’s size and power. She couldn’t directly intervene anyway, but…Lunette was still a goddess and their Moon. Auguste’s nightmares were only one of many that shared similar fears for Wilderlain’s future, and it made her uneasy. This city was her home, even if the humans that had birthed her were long gone. She would not see their legacy tarnished by unnecessary bloodshed.

Her focus on the Wilderlains sharpened just as Arabella did the same with her forest. But it was in the middle of summer when Arabella came to her again, her face grim, and informed her that another root had popped up. She said that it was a very faint feeling, so far away in one of Arabella’s other domains that she could be wrong entirely—but they both knew that wasn’t likely. A lingering shadow was still a shadow, and this one was tinged red. 

The dread that had been lurking in the back of Lunette’s mind sprang forward with unwelcome force. Furthermore, Arabella only knew the general vicinity of the root too, unable to pinpoint where exactly it was. If she focused too hard on it, the tingling would retreat until she was merely grasping at air. That was…unsettling. As if it had a mind of its own, as if it had…learned. What was this root, to attempt to escape the radar of a divine being? 

And so Lunette aided her. She left the Wilderlands for the very first time to follow Arabella into her pockmarked swaths of forests that lay outside it. She bore witness to mountain titans that made her dizzy, snow capped and piercing straight through thick bands of clouds. She wanted to fly up there at some point. Large bodies of shimmering water that reflected the stars as clearly as though they hid in the murky depths themselves. It was fascinating, and every time Lunette ignored them. Instead, she pushed her wings to their limit and skimmed the verdant topside of the forest for anything unusual all while Arabella searched on foot. They would do this for hours on end for days…but neither of them could find anything.

Of course, there were signs. Sometimes Lunette would spot a patch of leaves a couple shades darker than the rest of the bunch, shot through with the same hair-thin threads of red. Once or twice Arabella came across an animal seemingly out of its mind running in circles, with crimson foam gathering at the corner of its lips. But still they could not trace it back to its source.

And so it grew.

Awfully, inevitably, it grew. And all Lunette could do was watch as it ate at Arabella like a crawling blight. She watched as she increasingly flinched away from sunlight to pinch her brows, as if it gave her a particularly intense headache. How the stumps from cut trees started regrowing slower and slower. How even as ageless beings, Arabella still developed dark bags under dim eyes, her face lined with tired wrinkles. 

Time marched on, and no progress was made. It frustrated Lunette perhaps more than it did Arabella, who seemed to become more and more listless by the day. Lunette didn’t focus on anything else despite her former concerns with Wilderlain—she wasn’t sure she even could if she wanted to. Where she was able to watch her humans unendingly as a source of both comfort and duty became a chore, and an irrational annoyance at the sight of them surfaced instead. She needed to choose between her worries or they would consume her entirely, and the choice seemed obvious to her.

Sometimes it felt like black ribbons were curled tightly around her chest, moving to the motion of her heart. What was a strong protective urge turned into a burning desire to collect Arabella close and keep her at her side forever. Molten rushes of anxiety sliced through her whenever she thought about Arabella and the red root, but above all there was a simmering anger. How was she, a goddess, being thwarted by a plant? They hadn’t even done so much as identified what it truly was, and yet it was the one persistent nightmare Lunette couldn’t alleviate.

She had even given the Nimbus Eye back to Arabella. Its magical qualities had waned somewhat, but that wasn’t entirely why Lunette kept it around. It was dear to both her and Arabella. She hoped it would protect her a little from what was clearly the root’s influence, but whether it worked or not Lunette wasn’t entirely sure about. Certainly the gesture had made her happy. Arabella couldn’t stay with her, the Eye was a mystery, Wilderlain was occupied—so Lunette did the next best thing: she spent as much time as possible glued to her side. She would not allow Arabella to weather this threat alone.

…

One night, Lunette had joined Arabella in her favorite clearing. The moon hung high in a dark, limpid sky, and the droning sound of crickets and night bugs was usually enough to send Lunette into a light doze. But this time, she had other things on her mind.

She regarded Arabella. 

“I am worried about you,” she said to her after a while in a pained voice. Arabella looked up, her eyes slightly unfocused. “It’s… eating away at you! We cannot just sit here and let that happen. Isn’t there anything we can do?” she added desperately, hating the way her voice came out as a whine. But she despised above everything feeling so hopeless, and watching the root take effect on the antlered goddess.

She leaned against her rock. She was playing absentmindedly with Lunette’s flower-crown; little bits of it were falling to the ground from the worrying. It took her a moment to respond. “I do not know what to do,” she admitted, her voice wavering. “This thing, whatever it is—it is beyond my knowledge. My control.” 

Lunette ached to suggest something, anything . The thought of running away together even flashed across her mind, quick as lightning and lasting as long. There’s no way Arabella would agree to it, and anyway, it’s not like they can outrun this. She knew that.

Asking the other pantheons of gods to help was always a possibility. Perhaps Lunette could locate a temple or shrine dedicated to someone else and ask them for assistance, but even then it would take time. Time that, judging by one quick glance at Arabella’s current state, they didn’t have. So again Lunette kept quiet and smothered the heat quickly rising through her chest and into her throat.

…

Soon it became clear that the roots had taken residence in the forest supplying Wilderlain. A nearly indiscernible red haze drifted just above the canopy, seemingly visible only to Arabella and Lunette. Water from its streams and rivers became undrinkable, and animals were left to roam as they ingested more and more red poison. Lunette’s temples started to fill close to bursting as more and more knees dropped to the earth to offer up their prayers and their sacrifices. Anything to make the plague go away, questions as to why they’re being punished. It was not enough—yet—to cease the army’s operations completely, however. 

It was another layer to add. She hated the fact that the roots had reached the Wilderlands, and yet were too cowardly to show themselves. It was like an itch far beneath the skin, annoying and made even more so by being unattainable. That didn’t stop her from scouring Arabella’s forest, digging and searching until her hands bled ichor from the effort. She’d spend days tracking down game to bless and lure, if they weren’t too contaminated already. She even tried physically willing the moonlight to sear the very skin of the roots, but that required far more power than she possessed.

Arabella only grew sicker. The animals that weren’t victims of the red roots sought refuge in the clearing Arabella herself was now confined to, willing to help her walk to provide comfort. Their presence seemed to help Arabella. On a good day, Lunette would help her grow those little white flowers that loved to follow her. She borrowed books from bookstores or her Temple to read to her. She talked, mostly about menial things, and Arabella listened. Often, she’d sleep. Like her listlessness had turned narcoleptic, Arabella would fall asleep in Lunette’s embrace at the drop of a feather. She always felt unnaturally light in her arms, as if she were made of the leaves that surrounded them. Frustratingly, she didn’t even have the luxury of bathing in the sun—not while the red haze above them removed that particular comfort. It was only until the moon rose to pierce their patch of haze with its light that any of them could breathe a little easier. The moon was a friend.

It was during one of these nights that everything hit Lunette at once. Arabella was curled up in her lap, Lunette’s axe leaning against the boulder, more for Lunette’s peace of mind than to provide any actual security, but she had shed her armor. She wanted, now more than ever, to feel Arabella against her.

She returned to a question she had turned over and over for so long now. How could this happen, and so quickly? It was like she’d barely been given any time to process what was happening before it had already grown out of control. What was the red root, and what was its purpose? Beings like her and Arabella…they provide, protect, and create. They were divine. They angered no one. But Lunette’s come to understand that that doesn’t mean they are immune to suffering.

It had forged a rift in Wilderlain. Many believed it was a sign from Lunette herself to cease their ideas of expansion, a punishment for their thinking becoming astray. Many still took this as an attempt to hinder natural progress and it became instead an encouragement in spite of her. 

And where were the other gods? Does this even apply to those vague, distant, omnipresent rules Lunette’s always knew and adhered to in the back of her mind? They can’t interfere too directly with those they are assigned to watch over, but what if something threatens one of their own? Lunette longed to go back in time, to shadow another god like Arabella did so she might know something, anything at all. Except now she’s not sure what it means to be a goddess anymore. Perhaps she never knew, and had proved the pantheons right this entire time.

Lunette swallowed around a lump in her throat. She must have been squeezing Arabella too hard, because the goddess made a small, unhappy noise and slowly opened her eyes. 

As always, Lunette wasn’t sure whether the sleep really did her any good. She still looked as tired as before, but she was still the most beautiful thing Lunette had ever witnessed. “Good evening,” she greeted quietly.

Arabella squinted at her drowsily. She sat up, antlers brushing the underside of Lunette’s chin, and yawned. “Hello,” she said, and Lunette thawed at the sound of her voice. She looked skyward, her eyebrows raised. “No red moonlight?”

“She drives it away,” Lunette explained. “Listen, Arabella. I have an idea.” 

Arabella turned to her. There was something in her expression that made Lunette falter slightly, but she forced herself to fork the words from her throat. “We need help ,” she began. “We can’t do this alone. Time is against us. Surely one of the other deities knows something about it and can help us before it’s too late. Think about it! If you reach out, maybe to whomever you met before me, maybe you could—”

She was stopped by the light touch of Arabella’s fingertips brushing her jaw. Lunette let her words hang uselessly in the air between them, staring in confusion at her.

“Lunette. My dear.” Arabella’s eyes were deep and soft, and the corners of her lips were pulled into a sad smile. Lunette felt a harsh twinge at the pity laced in her voice—pity not aimed at herself, but for Lunette. “I am not going to survive this.”

Lunette stiffened in utter surprise, that black ribbon squeezing tighter than it ever had before, and she had to remind herself to breathe through the powerful ache blooming inside her. Her mind was wiped blank. She had not expected those words. “What?” she asked breathlessly. “You don’t mean that. You don’t believe that.”

The touch at her jaw slid to cup her cheek, and it was only then that Lunette could see the shine of unshed tears in Arabella’s eyes, the tremble in her fingers. “We both know, deep down.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she might as well have been shouting into her ear. “I am only getting worse. They’re dying, Luna. The plants, the animals…even the water is losing its shine. You…you have seen it yourself. Anything I do to try and revive them is only met with more death.” Her gaze was unblinking, and Lunette felt locked into holding it. “I can feel their absence. Every one of them: dead or forced out…it is only a matter of time.”

Lunette sat in shocked silence for a moment that seemed to stretch. In one motion, she shook off Arabella’s hand as if it were a hot iron and jumped to her feet. Overwhelming despair and fear of the goddess sitting placidly in the grass before her made her wings fluff in defense. She did not know this woman. Arabella only looked up at her with mild inquisitiveness. She made no move to follow Lunette, no hand raised in comfort. No, she believed in her downfall as easily as though she had ordained it herself. That much was obvious.

She stared. Maybe she should have expected this. It hurt all the same. Lunette turned on wooden legs, suddenly finding this place suffocating. As she spread her wings, she heard Arabella say, “Where are you going?” But her voice was tired, flat. Somehow, that hurt even more. So Lunette left.

She took to the sky on powerful wingbeats, the grief and the wind lacerating her heart and the crimson haze mocking her below. She left that little clearing where had met Arabella all those lifetimes ago, back towards the city that had birthed her. But in her grief, she failed to notice how the thick stench of suspicion clogged the streets of Wilderlain, and the faintest hint of red began to break through the cobblestones.

…

When morning arrived, Lunette found herself staring at a wall of red roots. 

She had spent the rest of the night scouring for them, half-expecting to see none at all. They had gone too far this time. The normal Arabella would never have said what she did…Lunette shuddered just recalling her words, her carefully reserved expression. No, that wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been. It was the roots talking, and as the night had progressed Lunette was afraid she’d turn up empty-handed like she had every other time. But…here they were. And not a small, scraggly lone root like the first one she encountered—it was a whole thicket of dense roots tangled so closely with one another that Lunette couldn’t see through it. But soon, she will.

She raised her hand. The familiar, comforting weight of her axe materialized—she’d have to give it a name—the blade dripping with starlight in anticipation for the carnage it was about to ensue.

Lunette forced the crying of her heart to the back of her mind, the loud protests screaming at her to stop and put down her axe. It will hurt her beyond measure , it told her. It will split her mind in two, and she’d never talk to you again . Maybe so. Maybe Lunette was making a mistake she couldn’t undo. But at least Arabella would be alive. She remembered the way her axe cut through the first one like a knife through butter, the way its coloring dimmed as if dying on the spot. She could do it again—she was tired of waiting. And…even if it meant Arabella had to hurt. She would kill every last root, follow it anywhere it sprouted to exterminate it, if it meant that in the end Arabella would live.

Lunette approached the roots. Slowly, methodically. This time, she could clearly feel the heavy thrum of the things, coming at her in lulling, headache-inducing waves. It felt like they were taunting her, leering at her, tightening their coils. And still Lunette swung.

They gave under her axe like brittle branches, just as she had hoped. She swung and swung, not letting up for even a moment as she hacked away at the thicket, each lopped section landing on the ground with a sickening thump. It only took a moment after the first one died for the forest to scream . Lunette jumped at the sound—unlike anything she had heard before, the creaking and groaning of wooden joints popping and writhing in place. The sound of millions of leaves rustling in tandem with each other, throes of pain so unfathomable only their fellow earth-born objects could relate. But still, still, still, Lunette swung.

Even when she felt the gasping, limping presence of her antlered goddess, she swung. Even when she felt the sharp teeth of a predator sink into the exposed flesh of her hand in a desperate attempt to stop hurting Arabella, she swung. Even—especially—when she could see the other side of the thicket, she swung.

It was the trembling touch of her goddess that finally made her drop her axe. It landed in a pile of ruined roots, the blade so soaked in red that it resembled gorey bits of gristle instead. That damn touch, so tender and gentle even now, the same touch that urged her to drop to her knees in prayer every time it graced her skin.

Lunette hadn’t realized she had been crying until a drop of silver tears fell from her cheeks. A small toadstool sprung up to catch it, and the tear saturated into its red cap. Lunette sniffed, her chest heaving from exertion or grief or both, and she turned.

Arabella was kneeling on the ground, breathing hard. Her face was somehow more haggard and thin in appearance than before, her once luscious curls now limp around her shoulders. She was leaning on a large wolf, of the likes Lunette had only seen once before, in Arabella’s far-off forests. It was glowering at Lunette with narrowed yellow eyes, lips pulled back and teeth stained gold.

“I understand why…you are upset,” Arabella finally heaved out, her voice coming out in short breaths. 

Annoyance and immense guilt flared through Lunette. “Why I’m upset? This isn’t about me!” she growled. “I can kill these intruders, Arabella. I can do something. I will not allow some plants to rip the love of my life away from me.” 

Arabella looked up at her. She swore she could have glimpsed a glare of scarlet in those deep, dark eyes—but it had faded before Lunette could be sure. But this time Lunette could see the silver tears trailing her cheeks, mirroring her own. Abruptly her anger vanished, and Lunette started forward reflexively, only to be stopped short by a low rumble emanating from the wolf’s throat.

“You just seem so…accepting,” Lunette continued in a strangled voice, feeling a sick sense of hopeful encouragement from Arabella’s tears. “You are still here. What about the forest? Wilderlain? What about…” she swallowed thickly. “Please. You can’t lie down and take this.”

Silence fell around them, the pain of Lunette’s declaration hanging between them like a spark waiting to ignite. The forest had ceased its screaming, but still Lunette could feel the warring of its emotions through Arabella’s tired eyes. The only thing keeping Lunette grounded in the moment was the distant worldly hum of her city. She could only hope they were unaware of the conflict between their two patrons, the Moon and the Stag in disharmony. A bitter expression shadowed Arabella’s gaunt face.

“I can’t go anywhere without untold effort,” Arabella said, her tone taut and dripping with venom. Lunette wasn’t sure who it was aimed at. She watched as small white flowers budded and died rapidly at Arabella’s feet, reacting to her emotions. “I see the corpses of my friends—plants, animals…scores of them, everywhere, beings whose bloodlines I have looked after for as long as I can remember—gone in a moment,” she spat, and her lips twisted in dry humor. “I can’t even feel anything beyond this forest! They are gone. All of them! Nothing can help me now.”

Lunette was more than a bit taken aback. It was reminiscent of last night, where Lunette felt like she was seeing a totally different person. She’s not sure what to think anymore. Yes, they were on their last legs. But there was still hope . Why couldn’t Arabella see that? “How can you give up so easily? I know it hurts but I can kill them, Bella.”

“They are not just roots,” Arabella said with a sniff. More silver tears fell from her eyes, and she looked past Lunette, at the thicket of roots still half standing. Lunette’s breath stuttered in her throat. Had Arabella figured it out? “They’re…,” she searched for the right word. “Sentient. Heralds of something far beyond either of us. They whisper all the time.”

“What do they say?”

Arabella shook her head. “They are cruel. I do not wish to understand them.”

Her heart pulled at Arabella’s confession. “Tell me where it’s coming from, and I will finish it!” she begged, desperation filling her violently. She took another step forward, ignoring the wolf’s warning growls. “You saw how my blade cut through them! Find their source, and I’ll finish it for good.”

“No!” Arabella exclaimed. She lurched forward and immediately shrank back, coughing into her fist. The wolf nosed her in concern, and she laid a hand on its head. She wouldn’t meet Lunette’s eyes. Was she…embarrassed? “No. You—I can’t, remember? They remain hidden from me, shrouded in archaic magic.”

Lunette’s hand flexed at her side in frustration. Whatever she wanted to say was stayed by the look in Arabella’s eyes, by the continuous rejection still poisonous on her lips. She could only watch as she staggered to her feet. Arabella reached out with one hand, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled it back. Lunette’s heart shattered.

Arabella’s jaw worked, her mouth opening and closing. The moment stretched for what felt like hours, and Lunette waited in anticipation that almost hurt, but her hope fell when all Arabella whispered was, “Please don’t do that again,” as if scolding a petulant child, and turned away.

The wolf stayed by her side as her crutch. Lunette stayed where she was. She wouldn’t be surprised if the roots behind her had grown to grip her legs in place, unable to follow her goddess. She could never stop loving Arabella. She would never stop looking for ways to save her. But as her silhouette grew smaller and darker as the trees swallowed her, Lunette couldn’t help but question if Arabella felt the same way.

…

That week, Lunette decided not to dwell in her discouragement. She hadn’t seen nor heard anything from Arabella after that night, but she ignored the hurt threatening to take over and send her sniveling to some isolated corner of the city. A thought came unbidden to her, one she had conjured up before. And desperation soon turned to determination. She would seek out the other gods.

Wilderlain might have been hers, and its citizens her wards, but even then she was not the only name that rested on the humans’ tongues, nor the only one they held in their hearts. There were others, of course, other gods and goddesses whose names Lunette didn’t recognize. And any practice was always minor enough to never pique Lunette’s interest. But now, she listened to their mentions with rapt attention and tracked their followers.

At times Lunette found herself wavering. Once or twice, her name was even spoken with something akin to…scorn? Disappointment? Suspicion? Was there always this many people who didn’t believe in her abilities?  Lunette wasn’t sure what she had done to earn this—she knew of the division caused by the root, but hearing it spoken aloud felt…different. More personal. Lunette knew this was ridiculous. Stars above, her own divine fellows had shunned her! But this time it had come from her followers, people who had granted her their undying worship for generations. Perhaps the Wilderlains had grown lax in their abundance. Forgotten their origins. They faced the future, hands outstretched, but they wouldn’t even have a future if Lunette didn’t act. She was trying to save all of them, and if they didn’t see that, well. She wasn’t exactly at fault now, was she? Their safety and the continuation of the city came first, even if it meant they had to suffer a few sleepless nights.

And so it was that she compiled a handful of small shrines to check out. She didn’t bother retaining trivial information such as names or duties. Those could wait: she needed allies, now . They were easy enough to locate. She felt a little silly standing before them—most of them small roadside stone statues with a wooden offering tray placed before them. Her hands clasped in prayer, a goddess asking for a favor.

Each night turned up fruitless. Each shrine, no matter how hard she prayed and asked and begged, remained silent and obsolete. She began to feel the weight of the task before her. Nobody was going to answer. It was embarrassing of her to have harbored even a smidgen of hope that someone would—not when, after all these centuries, she hadn’t so much as greeted any other god besides Arabella, hadn’t even bothered to step foot outside the Wilderlands. For all Lunette knew, she had even been forgotten in time by the other deities, perhaps even her own Pantheon, whatever that was.

But there was one more on her list. One more shrine, one more chance to make or break Wilderlain’s future. It wasn’t far from her own High Temple, and appeared to act as a rest stop as well as a shrine, for it was shrouded in dusky light piercing through lush trees on either side of it, obscuring the tall buildings from view. The statue was old, but the lack of normal indicators like moss and missing chunks was a sign that it was well tended to. It was large and circular; a serpent ran around the outer edge in a single, unbroken loop as it devoured its own tail. The center had what looked like a stylized emblem of the sun, or some kind of star. She didn’t remember who it was for. Lunette sighed and put her hand on the statue. She had given up clasping her hands like how she had seen the Wilderlains do, instead choosing to believe in direct contact. 

She waited. The foolishness of it all was obvious to her. The Kingdom of Wilderlain stretched out all around her, its magnificence and might evident in the clean streets and masterful crafts, and she was floundering. She, older than every human in this city, their benefactor and protector, stood at the foot of another god’s shrine out of pure desperation. Because she couldn’t do anything herself.

Lunette closed her eyes in an attempt to shut these thoughts out, but it didn’t work. It was almost like this shrine was its own little dimension, for there was no sign of the greater evils that now ran through the Wilderlands as integrally as the streets of cobblestone behind her. The city was quiet behind her. The usual sounds—bells tolling, laughter, shouts, the barks of dogs and the calls of birds—all of them were absent, most likely due to the day winding down, and it only served to emphasize her doubts. She didn’t know how long she stood there, but when she opened her eyes, it was dark. She sighed. Another failure. Just as she was beginning to pull her hand away, though, the stone beneath suddenly grew warm.

She opened her eyes. There was an odd tingling in her fingertips, a cautious but curious pull at the back of her mind. It was uncomfortable and wholly unfamiliar, but Lunette could only revel in a joy she hadn’t realized she hadn’t felt for a long time. She flitted around for a few moments, wildly unsure now that she had actually gotten what she’d sought…but then: she thought at it.

She thought of Arabella and Wilderlain. She thought of the red roots, of their effects and their weaknesses, of her axe slicing through its flesh. She poured every emotion into what she hoped was a mental connection, though nothing happened in return. It was weird. Somehow, she was able to clearly distinguish her own emotions from the other’s despite sharing the same mental space. What she did feel, however, was a growing alarm from whoever was at the end as it registered each of Lunette’s thoughts, and then: finally, finally , Lunette felt their understanding. Their empathy. Determination. They would come .

The connection faded out and the stone lost its warmth, but Lunette couldn’t help the shout of joy that left her, the flutter of her wings. Every crevice of her being was filled with newfound hope, and all trepidation at facing Arabella again melted away. This time, she would make her listen, and she would bring evidence that there really were those who were willing to help. They wouldn’t have to face this alone any longer.

But as she turned her gaze, her smile fell. There…in the direction of her beloved forest, rose a cloud of smoke. Not the red haze that had taken up residence as of late, but real, actual smoke—black as coal, and rising in thick plumes.

Lunette was in the air before she knew it, urging her wings to carry her harder and swifter than they ever had before. She completely overlooked the city below her as all-too-familiar panic blossomed and thorned her insides, driving her onwards. She could spot the distinctive, harsh reds and yellows of fire before she even reached the treeline. What she thought was one cloud of smoke had actually already blanketed the entire forest, quickly rising into the air as it devoured greedy mouthfuls of oxygen. The sight almost caused Lunette to veer from her course in pure shock. When…how did it get this bad already? Surely she would have noticed it? Flames were marching between the trees like otherworldly soldiers, flickering and consuming everything in its course. 

To make things worse, Lunette made the mistake of glancing down. Far below, so that they appeared as tributaries made of thousands of fireflies streaming into the forest—humans, a torch in one hand and iron in the other. “Stars above…,” she muttered unwittingly. Horrible realization dawned on her.

That’s right. Wilderlain had been quiet.

Lunette’s mind blanked. Every thought of the mysterious roadside god, every small bud of hope kindled from the encounter, fled in a moment. The fear she felt instead was like torture, the strain of the muscles in her wings driving her forward. But nothing was more tortuous than the one goddess whose mere thought currently fuelled Lunette’s every motion.

As she neared the forest, what she initially thought was scorched and blackened trees on its border were actually brambles. They looked identical to the one she had torn through a week ago—red roots looped in and out of the openings as if the two forces were wrestling. And there…Lunette had to strain to hear it, but beneath the crackling fire, the speech of humans and the braying of scared beasts…yes, she could hear it. Just barely: whispers.

Lunette drew in her wings to descend closer to the treetops. Now she could spot humans in the forest as well. But something was strange about them, stranger than she had ever seen them—their heads were forward, all facing the same direction as if under the equal understanding of some shared purpose. Several of them were tossing their lit torches to the side, or deliberately leaning to hold the flame to leaves or bushes.

Dread dropped in her gut like molten rock. This was not natural. Before the smoke obscured her vision, she swore she saw people she recognized, too…priests and priestesses from her own temples holding the very fire that currently licked their boots and singed their hair. Royals, nobles, and common folk side by side. Many of them still bore their silvery armor, reflecting in the firelight.

Ash and smoke assaulted her senses, the acrid burning bringing tears to her eyes and clawing down her throat. She banked to escape the cloud and landed clumsily in Arabella’s clearing, catching herself heavily on the boulder. Lunette had no idea fire could be this destructive. She had only ever seen it in its contained state. It left her a bit speechless, seeing how swiftly it spread, leaving nothing in its wake but ash and bone. She was sweating already, her armor slick and stifling. It was like being surrounded by a hundred suns. Already the trees surrounding the clearing were shriveled, their insides broken open and smoldering with orange decay. There was no sign of life anywhere—the air was choked with the smell of death, the plants squeezed and mutilated by blood-red anacondas.

“Bella?” she called out, her voice coming out crooked and small. “Arabella! Where are you?”

It was empty. There was no sign of her being there. Not even the gifts and trinkets she’d given her were disturbed, and Lunette quickly waved away curious licks of flames threatening to touch them. Lunette shut her eyes tight. The panic was starting to overwhelm her, crowd out any rational thought. She needed to calm down. Just…stamp it down. She’ll deal with it later. She will find Arabella, and Arabella will be okay, and she’ll take her far, far away from here. For good. She was all that mattered.

A weight appeared in her hand, and Lunette opened her eyes. It was her axe. She must have willed it into existence, but the familiarity of its hilt brought her little comfort. However, it did remind her of one thing.

The Wilderlains.

Once again, Lunette’s wings carried her into the air, but this time she did not breach the treetops back into the smoke cloud. The bobbing lines of light were visible throughout every opening. In the back of her mind, Lunette registered that this was the closest she’d been to her wards since that night at the festival all those years ago. As she flew between the trees, she didn’t miss the way the branches bent towards her. It was not subtle or elegant as it always had been—not a greeting, but a desperate, final strain towards something familiar and safe. The forest was bursting with distress, warning her away instead of inviting her in.

Lunette followed the line of humans that eventually joined up to the thickest bunch. She dared to dip even lower, so that the flame of their torches wavered from her wind. She even thought she heard those whispers again, until she listened closer. It was…the humans? They were not whispering, but speaking—perhaps mumbling. But they were a mess of incoherent voices. They all seemed to be talking, every one of them, and yet Lunette couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was no festival chant, no minstrel’s tale. She could make out the word “monster” the most often.

Lunette slowed down, her wings buffeting the air. With that pool of dread growing by the minute, for the first time she took a moment to really observe them. Their mumbles were ominous, to say the least, and Lunette wanted to believe this “monster” was the red vines…but something in her gut told her differently. And as she peered at an elderly woman shambling along, slack-jawed, Lunette could see that the light reflected in her eyes had the faintest tinge of crimson.

She knew this woman. She had witnessed her birth, seen her blessed in the holy waters of her temple as a babe, had watched her grow into a fine young woman and an even greater elder. She had always been sprightly even in her old age, but now she looked more like an animated corpse, bereft of a soul.

They all did. Every last one of them, extending for miles. Some of them wore expressions of red hot rage—twisting their features in unnatural ways, teeth sharp and bared at specters only they could see. Crumbling ash replaced their steps, and Lunette was reminded of a time where it would’ve been white flowers in their stead.

Lunette looked up. The smoke had become unbearable even for her. It completely replaced the night sky, and the moon was merely a suggestion, a vague shape of lighter gray.

She continued following the direction the humans were heading towards, deeply disturbed at the sight. It was difficult to will her wings to work. She was growing more and more agitated the longer she went without even a sign of where Arabella was, even knowing that she wouldn't just abandon her forest, not even now. Especially not now.

…Right?

…She didn’t know Arabella as well as she might have, once.

She had no time to think about such things. That could all wait. The line was thickening again, joined by others from all directions to converge at a single point. She was surprised to see that it was a familiar sight: the waterfall, rushing still amidst the carnage. It was nearly drowned by the sheer amount of flames, but she could still see it, frothing and boiling. It was where Arabella had first encountered the vines, and where Lunette had slain it.

Warily, Lunette brandished her axe as she dove down towards the waterfall, squinting through the rising smoke. This was where she needed to go, she was sure of it. This was where the amalgamation of blood vines would sprout with its heart at its center, and it was here where Lunette would tear it out either by axe or by hand. With or without assistance.

There were vines, alright. Large and pulsating like something more made of flesh than plant. Maybe it was and had always been. They sprouted from the burnt soil, still and dormant…for the moment. And there, lying in the charred grass beside the waterfall, was Arabella.

Humans surrounded her on all sides, but something was keeping them from really crowding her. Her antlers had broken off, one halfway and the other almost completely, the once graceful threads adorning them tangled and missing. It was sickening how her beautiful ichor stained the ground, mixing with the ash of her own creation. She was broken, blooded. Lunette could barely make out the rosy color of her robe, soaked through with ichor as it was. Pierced through in enough spots to tell Lunette she needed to act now .

She needed no further encouragement, not when her veins were alight with fury so intense she felt the crack in her axe-wielding hand. Lunette cast away her divine veil, an easier act than she thought, revealing herself to the humans and dropping from the sky like a flaming star to land over Arabella. Blood-curdling screams erupted from the crowd of humans and they surged backwards into one another—the consequence of witnessing her with the naked eye. More than a few of them fell from the sudden wave of bodies and clawing hands, but Lunette only felt satisfaction. It was only right that they felt threatened by her. Let their eyes bleed, their small minds convulse with the effort of comprehending her.

“ Sen Minathrial! Sen Minathrial! ” Hundreds of them cried out and dropped to their knees, hands clasped and shaking over their heads. Whether Lunette’s appearance had broken them of out of whatever stupor imprisoned them or some other reason, she did not care. They can beg for her mercy, call her name, but she would not answer.

Her wings snapped open to their full length and she did her best to cover Arabella from view, crouching over her like a wild animal. She tried to ignore the feeling of Arabella’s ichor snaking around her sabatons, bleeding through her soles.

“What is your purpose?” Lunette demanded, enraged. Her voice boomed, sending out over the humans like a shockwave, like she didn’t still feel the agony of the smoke within it. They flinched away at the sound. A long moment passed as the Wilderlains registered what, or who, they were seeing. That’s right , Lunette thought, scanning them, watching their fear and awe. Do you understand whose ire you’ve drawn? As soon as Lunette was beginning to think no one would speak, a braver human shuffled forward, his eyes cast to the ground in deference. Lunette knew this one too—a former street urchin turned rich. By trade of lumber. She sneered.

“F-forgive us,” he said in a trembling voice. He swung his torch in gesture of the destruction around them. “We…is this not what you asked of us?”

“ What ?” Lunette hissed out. He inadvertently stepped backwards. Blood ran from his ears and dripped to the ground.

“The test,” he explained matter-of-factly. He swallowed visibly, perspiration shining on his brow. “She must die…so we can live.”

Lunette growled, her thoughts racing in confusion. “You are all utter fools. I gave no such test.” Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd, but many continued their strange whispers. What were they saying? “Certainly not of this kind. What of the Moon and the Stag? What ever happened to your love for both? If your faith is this flexible, then I have no need for any of you!”

It was more words than was necessary, and Lunette could see and hear the effect it took. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Distantly, it occurred to Lunette the oddity of her situation. She did not know time as humans did, but perhaps to them, many long centuries had passed since the founding of their city. Her existence was a strange thing—it was, to them, both immutable and questionable. Lunette never considered that maybe one day she would have to show herself, prove her existence. But she never expected it to happen like this.

It was sobering. Lunette pushed on. “I want you to leave. All of you. Do not return.” It was almost a plea. Almost.

She didn’t bother to see their response, although the shuffling of hundreds of feet might have alluded to their departure. She ignored them altogether, immediately turning to direct her attention to Arabella. She hadn’t moved a muscle, but Lunette could detect the faintest rise and fall of her chest, nearly indiscernible. Her eyes, however, were wide open with fear, and fixed on Lunette.

Traces of ichor trailed from the corner of her lips, the bright gold stark against her dark skin. There was soot smudged on the high of her cheek. Lunette automatically reached out to thumb it off, and sucked in a breath when a quivering hand grasped her wrist weakly.

“I am sorry.” Arabella’s voice was small, barely a whisper above the roar of fire and water, the wordless garble of the crowd of humans. Her lips were chapped and split.

Warmth, deeply uncomfortable, built behind Lunette’s eyes. “What did they do to you?” she asked, her voice cracking, nowhere near the formidable force it was a minute ago.

Arabella chuckled wetly, the tiny action wracking her entire body. “All this…and you’re only worried about me.” Lunette ignored the resignation laced tiredly in her tone. Ignored, ignored, ignored. There was a way out of this. There always was—they were divine, weren’t they? They were made of stuff more powerful than anything humans could dream of. Help was coming. Arabella could still be healed. The entire world, everything beyond them and this moment, was not real. It was only the two of them, as it had always been.

She reached forward and tried to gather the goddess into her arms, her wings still half-raised in their protective envelope. But all it took was for one whimper for Lunette to stop, and she looked on in dismay as more ichor bled from Arabella’s gaping, open wounds.

“Well—I can’t just leave you here!” Lunette said in mounting frustration, her arms hovering awkwardly around Arabella. Ichor stained the metal of her gauntlets. She hated it. 

“You can,” Arabella responded. Her lips were trembling. “And you will.”

Lunette shook her head vigorously. Tears fled freely down her cheeks. Ignored. 

“I’m sorry,” Arabella hiccuped, her own voice rising. “I’m sorry. I wanted to live. I wanted to be with you.” The words came out quickly, but they were firm, as if Arabella was aware of how much time she had, how much of it she wanted to fill. Lunette was sobbing openly now, burying her face in Arabella’s collar, no longer minding the golden liquid seeping into her, invading her being. It hurt. It hurt so much. Her whole body shook, and she entwined her fingers through Arabella’s curls. 

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded into her skin. “I love you.”

No answer.

Lunette looked up. Arabella’s gaze was trained to the sky, to the moon distant and watchful, unseeing. 

And Lunette held her. 

She gathered Arabella close to her body and screamed into the smoke and the ash, ugly sobs ravaging her throat and her body and her soul. The pain was so powerful, so acute. It overrode everything else, blocked out all other sensations. There was dirt and ichor staining Arabella’s beautiful hair, scooped up by Lunette’s seeking arms. It caked her feathers and fogged her armor, but she didn’t care. She held her even as the ground began to rumble and quake, but the sound was so muffled and distant to Lunette that it could’ve happened miles away. Even as the very earth split like a disturbed scab, and from them erupted vines as thick and tall as oaks and as red as rust. Even as debris scattered around them like hail; as primal, visceral screams filled the air in discordant harmony, and were cut short as they were hewn down like prey to apex predators. Even as they clambered over one another in a frenzied, hopeless attempt at escape. To fall a corpse, either from each other, themselves, or by the vines. Royals and commoners. Advisors and soldiers. Lumberers and the elderly. Priests and priestesses, the name of their Goddess on their lips and breath. Even as the forest sang and was strangled for it. 

None of it mattered. None of it. Not to Lunette. There was only Arabella, her body warm with residual life and fire and blood. She stayed there, hunched over her, for what felt like an eternity.

Still the vines hungered. They slavered for more blood to stain their bulbous bodies, and a goddess's blood was most coveted of all.

Lunette flinched as the ground ripped open right next to her. For the first time since the earth had split, Lunette lifted her head to bear witness to the carnage around her.

The whole world could have been ending for all Lunette knew or cared. Most of the screaming had died away by now. Vines packed so tightly together they might have been limbs of some eldritch god, being birthed from beneath the earth, undulating and wriggling in delight as they speared both humans and soil like worms on a hook. 

She had watched Wilderlain begin as small, humble shacks to quaint villages. All the way until it became a respectable, feared kingdom with Wilderlain as its heart. She had watched as these people became great or led fulfilling lives, or fell to wickedness or poverty, and she had watched their ancestors do the same. 

She was numb to it all. They forfeit their lives the second they stepped out of their homes.

Small, white flowers were struggling to burst through the tainted soil around Arabella’s body. They reached towards her, their tiny petals straining. Lunette reached out with a trembling hand, grasped a bundle of them and ripped them out, roots and all.

Lunette, still moving through a haze of her own making, slipped one arm under Arabella’s knees and another around her shoulders. She stood on mechanical legs, spread her four great wings stained through with ichor and soot, and flew.

She pierced the cloud of smoke hanging low over the forest, most of which, at this point, was decimated—completely unrecognizable as the rich land it once was. Razed and scarred and scorched by a ruthless inferno, perpetuated by the very humans it had once fed, and Lunette could hear the haunting groaning of wood as the trees were uprooted by jealous vines. So much violence, so much death, and Lunette was numb to it all.

Wilderlain slowly came into sight as the forest fell away beside her, and here Lunette could see as the result of centuries upon centuries of cultivation became wrapped up in the very corruption she had, unknowingly, helped to usher along. The stretch of land that laid between the forest and the city looked as though a great beast had torn it to shreds; hundreds of vines moved through the unearthed soil like sea serpents, ripping and tearing to get to the city. Hundreds more still had already made it. Some human stragglers were trying their luck here, but to no avail. The thousands of lives she had witnessed, the hardships that came and went as countless sunrises and sunsets—and still, a small, wicked part of her told her that it was penance for what they had done.

Lunette landed—somewhere. She wasn’t sure where it was, her mind still stuffed with cotton, until she looked up and saw the city’s central statue of her. All around her, the city was well on its way to crumbling, taking its first steps towards ruin—or perhaps it had taken those first steps long ago. The vines that had made before the others had already wrecked their way through buildings and homes. The cobblestone streets had burst open, and the town square was empty despite clear signs of life: the screams echoing through the streets, the fires from upturned braziers and candles eating through buildings and tearing them down from the inside. And yet, the statue remained untouched. It was eerie; her hands still cupped the fallen star, the Stag’s head tall and proud, together paragons of prosperity and promise.

She was quiet as she gazed upon her own visage. It vaguely sickened her. She hadn’t looked down at Arabella once, but now, at the foot of the statue’s plinth, she gently lowered her to the ground and placed the bundle of white flowers upon her chest. She pressed a kiss to her cold forehead, like she had so long ago. A different life.

It was selfish of her. For wanting to stay. She yearned, more than anything, to remain curled at Arabella’s side. It was almost painful, if Lunette had the capacity to feel anything other than that cold, heavy nothingness. Maybe even until the fires took her as well, or the vines. It would be better than anything the future held for her now. Except…something was stopping her. Even now, in death, the radiance of Arabella's very make was clear. It permeated her entire being. She might as well have been sleeping, and any moment now she would wake up and chide Lunette for having such thoughts. It was delusional, but it was enough to sober her.

She was...and will always be, the most beautiful person with the most breathtaking soul Lunette had ever had the privilege to encounter. To love, and be loved by.

And when Lunette stepped back, made that final, awful decision to tear herself from Arabella one last time, a piece of her own soul went with her. Maybe all of it.

But in the end, Lunette took up her axe. It shuddered in her hand. It had tasted the vines once, and now it cried for more, feeding off its wielder's feelings. She would indulge it, if only to occupy her mind with something other than the body lying still and lifeless before her.

She turned from the statue, from Arabella, from Wilderlain, and left.

…

The following is an excerpt from Brother Jacobi’s Treatises of Heaven: What the Gods Tell Us , written in 14:22; joint-commissioned by Queen Zanaia IV and the High Temple of Dourain; released to the public in 14:25: 

Cracked, aging journals. Tablets inscribed with precision and care. Sprawling scrolls the length of a king’s dining table. Tapestries woven over years of effort. All of these and more depict the infamous story of the one known as: Sel’haroth, The Starlit Keeper, World-ender, Sen Minathriel (see footnote 32). Dream-Warden and Wilderlain’s beloved, the tale of Sen Minathriel is one told for generations and an important part of how our world looks today.

 

Most of what we know about this Goddess, who is of the Celestial Pantheon, comes from these sources. Although it depends on what culture they come from, the story remains relatively the same. They tell of Her beginning and the centuries spent under Her rule (much speculation surrounds this area, as most native Wilderlains were gone, and little material sources survived the Sundering). Her appearance continued to change throughout each re-telling, but several features stayed consistent, of which you may find examples through the figures attached in the next section. 

 

Little is known of the Goddess herself. Rituals, preferred offerings, chants and the like—these are all more or less gathered through Inversol Kingdom’s (previously known as the Kingdom of Wilderlain) other cities, despite Her High Temple being destroyed. Her personality and exact degree of power, however, is lost to us. 

 

But that’s a story for a different time and place. What I’m here to discuss, and what you, dear reader, are here to learn about, is the aforementioned Sundering.

 

Ask yourself: what does divine wrath look like? When a Goddess allows her fury to change the very shape of the world? Is there a world where we have not wondered such things?

 

We have but scant few first-hand accounts of the Sundering. As you well know by now, Sen Minathriel’s rage drove the inhabitants of Wilderlain to madness, and as such their minds were scrambled even before their untimely end. But, akin to descriptions of Her, many things stood out in consistency. The Sundering lasted only one night, and it was during this stretch of time where the world underwent an apocalyptic change. Tendrils of unholy darkness, the sky devoid of stars and space, slaughter on the streets, even between friends and family. This is the first and only time such a phenomenon has occurred—and Dourain willing, the last. Many accounts can be supported with evidence gathered over many lives. I will not bore you with facts well known, and if you must know, the first section recounts these tales; there is indeed a mass grave on the plains of The Wilderlands, scattered through where a forest once stood. Great unnatural mounds of split earth have been discovered (see footnote 36). And, obviously, Wilderlain is a real place, although it is long since overgrown and stands now in ruins. 

 

The exact motivation behind the Sundering has been a topic debated to near nausea. Many argue it was jealousy—of other Celestials or of Wilderlain itself, for its progress was made in leaps and bounds unheard of today and largely without the help of its patron, but one cannot be sure. Still others believe it was divine corruption of Sen Minathriel, either as punishment or as the unfortunate first victim of some otherworldly enemy. What we do know is that the Celestial Pantheon investigated afterwards. But they found nothing beyond a broken, crumbling city well beyond salvation—once the jewel and birthplace of a kingdom. No trace of Sen Minathriel Herself, nor any reasoning for what had occurred.

 

Curiously, one thing stood standing amidst the rubble. The Moon and Stag statue, renowned for its impressive craftsmanship, was largely intact. Upon discovery, it was reported that the entire statue was covered in the small white flowers we now know as starbits , with the plinth absolutely engulfed in them.

 

As for what came of Sen Minathriel, nobody knows. It may come off as anticlimactic, but I assure you it is the truth. Fear and trepidation followed the Sundering, and hunts for the elusive Celestial Goddess raged far into the decades. But as time passed, so did the fear that she would reappear to wreak havoc on some other unsuspecting village. Eventually, in an act unheard of, the Celestial Pantheon spoke to us. They closed The Wilderlands and placed a protective ward around it, permitting no entry.

 

But not everyone believes this. Certainly, there have been many a tall tale of Inversol Kingdom’s first capital city. Travelers say that you know you have entered Sen Minathriel’s realm when the plants grow shorter, because they have given up on reaching the sun. You will know when you place your ear to the ground and hear the deep, ancient rumble, and you better pray to whatever God led your life if it went quiet. Whisperings of long-forgotten tongues, wind that sounds a bit too much like screams, and the like. Clearly, these must have some merit, as the Gods themselves closed the sacred site…

A notation is scribbled off to the margins of the page. It appears to have been made in a hurry, the first sentence underlined many times over:

Where is Kaal Terranthien? There is no mention of her nor her disappearance. It has to be connected. Look into this later. For now, keep your ears to the ground and your eyes peeled. Rumbles, starbits , moonlight—they all hold the truth. I'm sure of it!