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Lae’zel calls on the House of Grief three times.
The first is a resounding failure.
Fresh with triumph, blood still caked in her hair and on her blade, Lae’zel arrives dizzy with her victory. It makes her hasty. The number of acolytes has grown since her time in this place- on this plane. She is shooed away by guards, too battle weary to attempt a true assault on the front.
“Mother Superior is aware of your presence. She does not wish to be disturbed. You are not wanted here.”
Foolish istik think their drow commander can stop what is coming. Lae’zel does not remember the details of her face, but she remembers Shadowheart’s fear that day; as well as she still tastes the fury of that betrayal.
She returns the next morning, fed and watered and with her sword freshly tended, and this time makes it through the doors. Lae’zel still knows little in the ways of trickery, but her diplomacy is known far and wide; the one who could unite githzerai and githyanki under a common cause will not be so easily bested.
However, demanding to speak with the Mother Superior - demanding to speak of Shadowheart - brings her up against another immovable object. She pivots as the anger sets in. Butchering them must be the last resort- she has learned this lesson well.
“Then I wish to join your faith. I am already familiar with much of your doctrine , though I’m sure I may still discover enlightenment in it.”
This is only half of a lie, and Lae’zel carries it well. The little Sharran at the front desk eyes her weapons and her armour and her determination, and seems to agree.
“Then you must be Unburdened.”
Lae’zel realises here that she cannot bear her soul to these people. They would never allow her access if they knew.
The looming and familiar form of a Dark Justiciar stands between her and her destiny. Past this one, there is likely a crèche’s worth of similar warriors. Viconia has reinforced her fortress well since Lae’zel was dragged from its debts.
She leaves wordlessly, and is let leave in peace.
The third day, Lae’zel arrives at dusk, and there is no more peace.
The Dark Justiciar is no match for her Godslayer- neither are the rest. Lae’zel forces her way through hidden walls and into the bowels of the cloister, where she finds her.
The Mother Superior stands alone. Lae’zel would have struck then, into the back of that silvery hair, if only she did not wish to see the life drain from those eyes. Oh, how she has desired it. What nights she has spent dreaming of it-
But it is not Viconia that turns to face her now. Lae’zel’s heavy steps do not drown out her own heart, beating loud in her ears.
“My joy.” She pleads. “My Shadowheart.”
Lae’zel falls to a knee, blade almost slipping from her grasp in the presence of such relief. She feels the urge to bend her head, but cannot bear to waste another moment denying herself the sight- not when she is close enough to touch her. She does not attempt to touch her.
Shadowheart has been changed by time. It has been much longer than Lae’zel knew it to be- though she herself must look much the same. Only battle wounds and losses have changed her. Her Joy is older now, but still herself. Lae’zel can see it, past the unfamiliarity in those full green eyes.
“How do you know my name, gith?”
She frowns down at her, unarmed but by no means defenseless. Lae’zel can taste her magic crackling in the air- feel Shar’s presence as surely as if she were flesh and meat in the room with them. As sure as she were one of the corpses she has left strewn at Shadowheart’s feet.
“I am Lae’zel. You knew me once.” She says, as she has practised it. Her sword falls to rest, its use spent. “I have come to restore you.”
Shadowheart regards her dully. Lae’zel senses her hackles rise, and bows her head before she can deride her with that vicious tongue.
“Restore me? You have slaughtered my congregation.” The Sharran Priestess laughs, and Lae’zel hurts for the woman in her memories. Hurts so badly that she falters. Falls to begging.
“I have been gone for too long, and failed you. Please, search my mind. See the truth in my words, and my actions.”
Shadowheart always enjoyed knowledge; enjoyed it as gossip, as trickery, and as a lover does.
She could never resist.
Lae’zel allows her passage, her magic colder than it once was. Colder than the tadpole had been. Her memories are free for those who should share them. Shadowheart recoils at a mere taste.
“Your imagination is remarkable.” She mutters. “Now leave. You have restored loss to a once thriving cloister, and your mission is surely completed.”
Lae’zel shakes her head. She recognises this tone- this Shadowheart. She knew her once before.
Silently, she takes hold of her sword once again, fingers tight around the hilt, and lays it flat before her. An offering, as much as it is suicide.
“I will not abandon you again.”
Forcing the stiffness from her jaw and the heartbreak from her eyes, Lae’zel looks up to meet the Mother Superior's.
“Vlaakith has fallen. My life is yours once again, zhak vo'n'fynh duj.” She cannot tear her eyes away. Even here, even now, Shadowheart is ethereal. Deadly, dark, and so close to salvation that she cannot see it. Yes, Lae’zel has known this Shadowheart before.
There is a spark of hesitation in those eyes she had almost forgotten. They are so vibrant in the light of her false Goddess that Lae’zel does not shy away when they flare with purple fire.
“Please.” Shadowheart whispers. “Leave.”
Lae’zel shakes her head.
“My life is yours.” She says. “Do with it what you will.”