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“Father, hear the words of your pureborn daughter! It is in your name I slaughter, your name I destroy, and only in your name do I exist. Yours is the only path I shall tread. May these sacrifices please you, and may you bless my blades so that I may slaughter the word in your service.”
The words echoed through Bhaal’s temple, the echoes of the damned parting so that this sermon may be heard. Her hands gripped the handle of her blade as she drove it through her sacrifice’s heart, “Father, may this putrid soul bring you joy. Let our deeds display our devotion and may the new dawn not diminish our duty.” The sacrifice screams into the cloth binding, the muffled gurgle of his death barely audible over the sermon.
As the sacrifice’s movements ceased and as their last breath was caught in their bindings, the pureborn pulled their blade from the corpse and retreated to the Chosen’s room. She descended the steps and entered, greeted by the sight of her sister sitting by their desk, “Lovely sermon, dear sister. Quite an interesting vocabulary, if I may say.” Orin jested.
Riley walked to the desk, “Thank you, and of course thank you for your help with writing that.” Riley stopped just before the desk, “I take it your sacrifice went about as well as mine?”
Orin looked to her blade at the small stains of blood still clinging to her steel, “As a matter of fact, that is why I am here, dear sister.” As Riley raised an eyebrow, Orin continued, “There is a priestess of Selune whom I wish to turn into an offering for Father. I had planned on acting alone, but I thought you might enjoy watching me paint”
Riley did not waste any effort hiding her smile, “That sounds like a proper slaughter, when shall we begin?”
Orin pulled out a blood soaked parchment, “I believe this says their false sermon starts soon, so shall we depart?
Riley returned her blade to its sheath, “Of course.”
—
The sisters walked through the streets, the symbol of Selune shining from almost every window, as they hunted for this priestess. That was likely the thought that clung to the forefront of Orin’s mind.
For Riley though a totally different sensation ran through her heart. Riley’s eyes would cling to objects, to places, to things, and they seemed to be familiar. She could have sworn the hairdresser she passed was the same one her false mother used to go to, that the furniture store was where her first bedside table came from, the alchemy spot where her false mother picked up medicine.
It had not crossed her mind in years, nearly decades, but as those memories resurfaced recognition finally came to Riley. These were the streets her false mother took her down. Even though it felt like a lifetime ago she begins to remember her time before Father, her time when she still clung to her false life. Riley recognizes some of the storefronts, the stones, even the buildings.
Like rain memories drip back into her mind as she goes through her old stomping grounds. She passes the bakery her false mother used to love going to, she walks by the cobbler where she got her favorite shoes fixed, and she briefly gazes into the restaurant where she held her tenth birthday party. For a brief moment Riley wonders if they still serve velvet cake or if they’ve removed it from the menu.
The gradual drip of memories begins to turn into a stream as Orin leads her deeper into the Selunite’s part of town. Soon it stopped being individual memories and more of blobs of memories mixed together. The bookstore that her false mother always brought her too because the owner gave out sweets, the toy store that Riley got Sir Bearington from, the tailor where her false mother worked. How many hours of her life were spent sitting inside that shop, reading a book with Sir Bearington, while her mother worked?
The stream turned into a flood as Orin led Riley not just towards her target, but closer to Riley’s old home. Memories of walking down these very streets, passing those exact windows and under those balconies, overwhelmed her.
There was a point when Orin turned left in order to find her target, but Riley had been swept away in a flood of memories and had instead gone right. She just had to see what her old home was like now, she just had to. This feeling was beyond reason, beyond doctrine, beyond curiosity. It was an indescribable need to just see what her home looked like. She had idle thoughts about home before but before they had never materialized into action. She could hear Orin quickly catch back up with her, but the questions on what she was doing fell on Riley’s deaf ears.
It wasn’t until the pair reached the front of the house that Orin’s questions finally ceased. The exterior looked degraded, the walls looking bare and abandoned. The front door’s colors had begun to peel, the red coloring fading revealing the oak that lay beneath. The flowbox, once organized and well kept, ran wild with color and vegetation overflowing out.
Riley’s emotions grew from a flood to a typhoon. Her hands, which rarely felt anything other than the blood of a victim, felt as if they were made of ice. There was not a single inch of this entire building she had forgotten, she carried the whole of the structure in her mind as a plague upon her thoughts.
Her eyes drifted to the small plaque that rested beside the front door, the wood old and yet still undisturbed. Riley did not have the strength to read it aloud, but it appeared Orin had no such issues as she began to read aloud, “Zavori Residence.” Orin looked to her sister, an unasked question hanging in the air.
Riley’s voice would not cooperate, so she simply nodded to Orin. The description of her time here, of the life she once lived in these walls, and the false name she once wore were not spoken. But it seemed Orin understood all the same.
Riley had to enter, a voice in the back of her mind demanded she return home. She had half a mind to simply break the locks right then and there, yet a simpler option demanded her attention. Riley lifted the flowerbox up, revealing the spare key that her false mother had left. It was coated in dirt and grime from the years of abandonment. Like oh so many times before she slotted the key into place and turned, the locks mechanism releasing a strained cry as the rusted gears move.
The door creaks, the wood and hinges announcing their atrophy to the world. Riley entered, followed shortly by her sister, into the front room. Inside the air was stale and silent, the room only illuminated by the shine of the moon.
The front room looked almost just as Riley had left it. The couch was exactly where it was, the bookshelf’s familiar pattern of books hadn’t changed since she left, and the desk seemed just as it was. Riley walked in further, her hand running across the dusty couch as she passed, as she went to the bookshelf. Her eyes passed from spine to spine as each book brought a new memory. She finds her false mother’s Selunite prayers, she finds the books she read in her youth, her false mother’s memory book.
When her search nears its end Riley realizes one book isn’t on this shelf. At first she didn’t entirely know which book it could be, or where it could be. A thought occurred to her causing her to now move to the kitchen.
The kitchen, again, looks as untouched as the front room. The dining table still sat in the corner of the room, the countertop and stove were still there. And just as Riley had suspected, her mother’s cookbook sat on the counter top. Riley opened it and began to look over the various recipes, the notes written in her mother’s handwriting lying next to the original author’s writing. Soon she glides by the original author’s writing and gets to the second handwriting, and then the third, and the fourth. She holds on the grilled Rothe and her mouth salivates.
Orin approaches and looks at her sister’s enamored face, “Sister, what are you reading and why…” Orin pauses as her sister’s smile glows, “what’s bringing you such joy?”
Riley ushered Orin closer, “Come here!” Orin approached and now stood behind Riley, “Can you read out what this says?”
Orin shook her head, “I cannot, to me this language looks more like scars on a page rather than writing.”
Riley nodded, “Right, right, I never taught you Infernal. But this is a cookbook that has been in the Zavori family for generations. My false mother’s chapter was still being worked on when I received Father’s call.”
Orin looked over it, “Fascinating,” Orin adds, “do keep that with you, we both know you could stand a wider variety in what you cook.”
Riley packed the book into a small bag, “Sure.” Her voice filled with an odd anxiety. As she felt the book through the bag. A part of her remembers her false mother always mentioning how important it was. How the cookbook “helped connect her to her family,” or how proud she would be when Riley inevitably wrote her own recipes in.
It just felt…wrong to carry it. Like she was infringing on a sacred tradition she did not follow anymore. She knew she could not leave it behind, but her heart did not feel deserving of the book. She renounced the Zavori name, she slaughtered the last in their line, she has no claim to this book and by all rights she should abandon it in this building to rot. Yet she still felt a connection to this book, to the words that lay in these pages. A small part of her still clung to that name, to the concept that this is her family's cookbook.
So in spite of her internal turmoil, she kept hold of the book and merely stashed it away. She looked upon her old pantry, then to the dining table only to notice a letter still sitting on the dining room table.
Riley remembers leaving this place in the dead of night, so why would something be left on the table. Her false mother never wrote anything on the dining table and Riley herself didn’t leave anything behind, so what’s this? Picking up the letter Riley reads,
“Dear Riley”
“We do not know what tragedy has befallen your family, but we know that some evil has struck at your mother. We do not know when you shall return, the condition you will be in when you return, or anything truly. We have filed a report with the Flaming Fist and have asked them to bring you here if you are found.
What we do know is that you are probably scared and feeling alone, and that is something we can help with. You are always welcome in the Moonmaiden’s congregation and if you need anything you only need to ask. We have taken the liberty of cleaning up the house and we will help you contact your family when you return. Don’t worry about the house or money or anything. The house is yours and will remain in your name while legal ownership is transferred to the temple until you return. So even if it takes you years to return, you will always have a home.
Please let us know if/when you are ok, we’re worried about you.
With care
-Moonlight Alexander.”
Riley felt…hollowed by those words. The temple she used to visit with her false mother, the adults who used to lecture her on a false god’s teachings, the children she used to play with just after the sermons finished. She remembers chasing those kids around the park, running with them when she was no longer ‘it,’ and reaching the tops of the trees even as worried parents pleaded with them to come down. The images of gathering around a table, singing songs as they all ate sweets played in the back of her mind. Even though she knows that the life she once lived was false, she cannot lie and say it was horrible.
The longer she was here the more memories resurfaced, yet she could not will herself to abandon her former home. She had to see everything, just had to. She went to the stairs and lit herself a small candle. She ascended the steps only for a small drawing to cause her to halt in her tracks. It was a simple image, just charcoal on paper, yet Riley couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.
It was a crude drawing, one born from a young and untrained hand. There were two figures, one large one small, holding hands. While the details were sparse, Riley remembered drawing this for her mother after a long day of work. She had given her a simple sandwich and this image of the two of them. The child who had not even lived a decade, wanted to show the woman she once called ‘Mother’ how much she cared. It didn’t matter how much she reminded herself that this life was false, it did not make the memories or emotions of this place feel any less real.
Finally finding the strength to look away, Riley ascended the stairs to the second floor, her sister still following shortly behind. Ascending to the top of the stairs Riley went back to her old room. It was less of a conscious choice and more of an act born from habit. The door opened, again the hinges making a loud creak, as Riley is confronted by her past. She stares at the bed, made likely by the Selunites who apparently had cleaned up after her disappearance. Her box of toys, the place where she once spent hours of her life sorting and assembling, sat forgotten. Her old clothes stared at her, reminding her of the girl she used to be.
A stray thought flew through her mind as she looked at the room. Has…has anyone found her old hiding spot? Riley got on her hands and knees and almost crawled under the bed as he and her hand searched for the loose board. The echo of wood bounced through the air as her hands slowly found their way back to the hidden space.
Riley poked the loose board and was able to wiggle it free, allowing her hand to grab into her old secret spot. Her hand reaches down, past where her eyes can see, as she fumbles around with whatever is left down there.
She feels only a pouch down there and picks it up. She sat back up and felt the light little pouch. Orin and her both seemed intrigued. Riley shook it around and heard the distinct sound of metal clanking against metal. A few coins? Riley opened and found exactly that, just a handful of coins. This was strange to her, she usually kept her gold on her bed, so why was she hiding it? She reached inside and found a note containing the answer.
“Mom’s Birthday.
Gift ideas:
-New coffee pot
-Necklace
-Gardening tools
-New flowers
-Dress?”
Orin read over Riley’s shoulders, holding the candle Riley sat down, but Riley didn’t seem to register this invasion of privacy. She…she was planning on giving her false mother a gift, didn’t she? Her birthday was only two weeks away and her visions from Father were still weak. And once Father’s servants began to arrive she had forgotten about the gift giving entirely didn’t she?
Riley went to her own desk and found her old journal and she began to read, no, devour her old writing. She had to know what she was thinking, she just had to! Her first entries were poorly written and their grammar was atrocious, obviously the signs of youth. She flipped to later on, when her writing was clearer. Notes begin to mention what she now knows are Father’s dreams…but she also reads that her mother had tried to help when she asked.
Riley read more and more, realizing something she soon had to learn. Her mother…her mother knew she would die, didn’t she? Riley’s old journal mentions how younger her always dreamt of her mother’s death, and yet her mother never grew afraid nor worried. All of the memories Riley could muster indicated some level of knowledge, but now the question on if she knew consumed her whole mind.
Riley passed Orin and then ran straight for her false mother’s room. As she entered she saw the bed where she slaughtered her false mother, she can see even now the stains that once ruined the bedding.
No, no time for that now. The more she thought about where her false mother died the less she thought about knowing the truth. She ran to her mother' s journal and ran to the last pages. Nothing about death, nope, nothing at all.
Riley tried to think of anywhere else her false mother would have written. Prayer books? No, that’s heresy. A note by her bedside? Why would it be there? In her own secret spot?
Riley paused for a moment. Her mother also had a secret spot, didn’t she? She once showed Riley the space below her bed and under the rug, where she kept important papers, it had to be there! Riley pulled the rug out from under the bed and fell so that she could start to try and grab whatever her mother hid away.
On any other day Riley might think about how absurd she looks, how bizarre it would be to see Bhaal’s pureborn child on the floor trying to unseal the floorboards. But Riley didn’t care if she looked weird, she didn’t care if Orin would mock her for years, she just had to know. The board was torn off the floor and tossed aside as Riley reached in and found a small, metal box.
She opened it within a moment and was greeted by a folded piece of paper and a ring. Riley ran to her false mother’s desk, set the boxes down, and began to read.
“Riley, my baby.
If you are reading this, then I am dead. Before I let you open your mouth, I understand. When I first found you all those years ago I could sense the darkness that hangs over you, and I knew my time as your mother would be brief. I have tried to help you overcome this darkness, but I can tell it is only a matter of time until it overtakes you. I do not blame you for falling, and I am sorry I could not help you more. That is the nature of how our life goes, I’m afraid. I know this life has not been kind to you, you have had visions of the most vile things for years and I have tried everything in my power to help.
I want you to know one thing. No matter what happens, whether I die by your hand today or tomorrow or anytime in the future, that doesn’t change the fact that I will always be your mother. I will always care for the girl I cradled in my arms, I will always celebrate the child whose first steps I watched, I will always love the girl who greeted every dawn and every dusk with a hug with her arms and a smile on her face.
In this box I have left you a ring, a ring my mother gave to me. And before me, her mother, and so forth until the name Zavori was first etched into history. I want you to have this ring and to carry it with you. Even if you do not wish to wear it, it would mean a lot to me if you took it with you.
I know you will go to some dark places, and I fear you will turn into someone I can scarcely call my daughter. But no matter what happens, no matter where you go or what you do, I want you to know this. I will always love you as any parent would love their child. If we ever meet again, I will be there for you. And if you return, if the daughter who bears the name I gave her finds her way out of darkness, I will meet you with a smile on my face and with questions about life ready to go.
Love
-Mom, Maphi Zavori”
Riley couldn’t stop herself as tears streamed down her face. Her heart felt as if it were made of lead, her stomach collapsed in on itself. Her hands shakily put the ring and note in her pocket as her composure began to crumble to dust. A comforting hand was laid on her shoulder by Orin but there was nothing she could do to stop this. Riley missed her false, no, she missed her mom. She missed her loving embrace, she missed coming home to a house filled with warmth, she missed playing with her friends, she missed her whole old life.
Like the wind she ran through the streets until she could finally get below ground. She had to go back to the temple, she had to! She didn’t care about the mission, didn’t care about the target, she only wanted to ask Bhaal. Just speak to the Father who tore her from her mom.
—
“Father, hear the plea of your most devoted child. Hear the cries and queries of your faithful so that I may better serve your purpose. Hear my prayers and bring forth clarity! Why was I, your purest born, not taken into the temple after conception? Did you deem it necessary for me to be raised by another, a servant of a false goddess! Is this part of your grand plan?” No voice returns her plea, the only sound to return to her ears being her own echo.
“Father, do you watch over us? Do you keep tabs on your purest child? Do you take heed to ensure we do not stray far from your murderous gaze?” Silence again greets her, “Father, have you ever watched me? When I lived under another roof, under my false life, did you take heed to ensure I was safe? Had you worked so that I may end up in that home?” Expectations swell as nothing meets her ears, “Father,” her voice growing desperate, tired, “do you even care?”
Nothing comes of these pleas. No visions, no messages, not even a headache or sore. Bhaal’s purest born child is left wondering, her questions never answered. The purest born Bhaalspawn wipes away the dried tears from her face and merely walks to her room. No prayers, no announcements, nothing. She entered her bed and prayed one last time to get something, anything, to explain why she had to live a lie for so long.