Dark Flower Ch. 10 (previously The Flower Ch. 4)

[Mikayla]

The Flower, Part 4: Light

******
As the sun set on Icewind Dale, a line of cloaked figures emerged from the entrance of Battlehammer Hall. Quickly and surely they worked their way down the snowy slope that led to the Hall’s entrance. The cloaked figures were taller than the dwarves of Battlehammer Hall, but not nearly as stout. They moved with a grace and beauty unknown to the folk of Moradinn. They were elves.

Sheyreiza Auvryndar walked some distance behind the leader of the line, Jain’n. Sheyreiza watched Jain’n move through the snowy fields and she did her best to walk in his footprints though his gait was different than hers. Behind her walked Inthara Despana and Amenia. Mixed in with them was the surface elf Kalina, whom Sheyreiza believed to be a sun elf like Jain’n. Another surface elf, Vraja, also moved with the group at the rear. Sheyreiza believed him a moon elf.

They had finally been released from the dungeons of the Battlehammer clan. Sheyreiza could hardly believe it. Why had they been spared? The dwarves of Battle Home were the avowed enemies of the Ilythiir. True, they were really enemies of Menzoberranzan, and Sheyreiza, Inthara and Amenia were all from Ched Nasad, but Sheyreiza had hardly expected the dwarves to understand or appreciate the subtle difference.

No, it was not the dwarves who set them free it was Jain’n. Jain’n and his unexplainable, incomprehensible ‘love.’ Jain’n was willing to sacrifice everything to save Sheyreiza, even his own life. Why? Guilt? Lust? ‘Love?’ Sheyreiza was not sure now.

What Sheyreiza was sure about was that she cared for Jain’n in a way she had never cared for another person. She was sure it was similar to what she might have come to feel for her own son had he not been taken from her. The feeling was so strong, so powerful, so all consuming it tore at her chest and caused her physical pain. She did not understand it in the slightest. She also could not deny it.

Though she felt very strongly for Jain’n, she felt no love for his gods and goddesses. Corellon was still the Betrayer to Sheyreiza, and Eilistraee was still just a name, a bodiless concept whose presence she had never felt, seen or heard. Who was this Eilistraee anyway? Sheyreiza knew the Dark Maiden was Lolth’s daughter by Corellon, but so what? What did Eilistraee want? The death of her mother? That would be typically Ilythiir. In what way was this Maiden different than any other ungrateful, murderous, ambitious, Ilythiir daughter? Despite all of Jain’n’s honeyed words, Eilistraee still meant nothing to Sheyreiza. No, that was not quite right. Eilistraee’s very name was a curse, a heresy, a blasphemy, and an affront to Lolth, the Spider Queen. Sheyreiza wished nothing to do with the treacherous Dark Maiden.

Jain’n, however, wished the opposite, and now, he was leading Sheyreiza into his domain…..

***

Sheyreiza stood before a glowing column of light that seemed to flow up from the ground and into the nothing of the night sky. The column was surrounded by three large stones, uncarved, yet clearly set there for a purpose. Jain’n told Sheyreiza that the light was a ‘Faerie Trod,’ a magical pathway. All she had to do was speak the password and it would transport her into Lonelywood, the magical realm of Jain’n’s elves. Sheyreiza did not like the light. She did not like the stones. She did not like the idea of trusting her life to some elven magic. She did, however, love Jain’n, at least to the extent that she could understand love.

With a last look at the sun-elf she seemed to care so much about, Sheyreiza stepped into the trod and spoke the password.

There was a flash of light, bright, yet not painful as most bright lights were. Then, darkness, trees and snow. Something green, sparkly and fast moved by, and then another. Sheyreiza watched and she saw small glowing figures before her. They looked like surface elves with wings, glowing with a magical light but only the height of her fore arm or so. She had heard of them, but had never expected to see them. Pixies. Real Pixies.

The diminutive flying fey swarmed about Sheyreiza, looking at her from all angles. Sheyreiza simply stood there, stunned, expecting at any moment to be killed or at least grievously harmed by these mythical creatures. The pixies were beautiful, but terribly frightening to Sheyreiza. She had long heard tales of what such faerie creatures would do to Ilythiir who fell into their grasp. The tortures they might inflict could last for years and Sheyreiza’s only hope would be death or insanity.

The pixies did not attack however, they only watched. Amenia walked out of the wood.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Asked Shey’s former bodyguard. A light danced in Amenia’s eye and she was clearly enchanted by the magical forest and its denizens.

Sheyreiza looked at Amenia, as stunned by her as by the pixies themselves. Where was the killer Sheyreiza knew? Where was the Amenia whose only desire was to kill as many of the noble class as she could before being killed herself? Where was the animal whose eyes lit up whenever Sheyreiza talked of murder?

Inthara too was entranced, walking quickly about the magical clearing, talking excitedly. Was this the same Inthara who would have traded the lives and souls of every man, woman and child in Skullport for a sliver of magical knowledge? The Inthara Sheyreiza saw now was running around in the snow ogling the pixies and chattering away like nothing Sheyreiza had ever seen. No one, not even weanlings, acted so carefree, so openly unguarded and joyously.

The other elves, including Jain’n followed.

“What is this place?” Sheyreiza asked Jain’n.

The sun elf smiled. “This is the Heart of Lonelywood.” Jain’n saw the expression on Sheyreiza’s face and answered it without prompting. “You are safe here.”

“If you say so.” She replied.

Jain’n smiled again. “I do.”

Sheyreiza turned her attention back to the pixies. Two in particular had taken an interest in Shey. The danced and flew in front of her, and Sheyreiza was not sure if she was being courted or mocked or both. Jain’n watched, happily, as Sheyreiza extended a hand to the pixies and they flew around it. Elsewhere in the meadow Inthara was all but dancing among the fey while Amenia marveled at the stags and boars that walked the field. For Sheyreiza, it was all unreal however. She could not stop watching the pixies and their little wings. What manner of spell and sorcery was this? Why did the elves bring her here? Why did Jain’n bring her here? To be given to the spirits of their wood? Sacrificed to their primitive and treacherous gods? Or simply to be shown what she had never seen and could never have hoped to have seen?

For what seemed like a lifetime Sheyreiza marveled at the pixies and their sylvan winter wonderland. She walked, slowly, around the trod, followed by the two pixies that seemed to have adopted her, for weal or woe. She looked at the boar, the woods, the snow, the trod itself and all the other pixies gathered in the meadow. She heard Jain’n saying that this gathering of pixies was highly unusual but she did not respond. Sheyreiza was lost in her own senses as she walked in a place she had only heard of, a place that should have been a nightmare for her: A place that might become a nightmare for her at any moment.

Jain’n’s voice broke her trance. “The pixies want us to come to the stone.”

Sheyreiza nodded and followed the glowing line of tiny fey. They walked a short distance through the woods until Sheyreiza came upon a sight that sent her blood running cold. A circle, outlined in stones, with a great central rock, was laid out before her. She recognized it. It was an unholy circle of some Seldarine goddess or god. A place anathema to everything Sheyreiza had ever held dear, sacred or true. A place women like her only saw at the end of their lives because the only way they would see it was as sacrifices.

She turned on Jain’n, her eyes narrowed. “What is this place?” She asked, though she knew full well. She wanted to hear it from him. Shey had had enough deception and enough sweet words. It seemed this then was what Jain’n had in mind all along: a sacrificial ritual to his primitive, treacherous god. And why not? Was Sheyreiza not a priestess of the Spider Queen? What better sacrifice could be offered to the Betrayer Corellon than one of the daughters of Lolth?

“It is a shrine to the Seldarine, to all the gods of the Seldarine, but it is special to Eilistraee.” Jain’n smiled as he spoke, his voice calm, almost soothing. He explained that it was an ancient place and that the stone was old almost beyond reckoning. “You once told me you had questions for Eilistraee, yes?”

Sheyreiza’s eyes had narrowed and now looked for all the world like two knives, one red, and one blue. “Xas.” She answered in drow. “I have questions for your goddess, your Dark Maiden.”

Jain’n’s smile did not falter. “Then ask. Go to the stone and ask. This is where we pray. This is the holiest place in my realm. This is the heart of Lonelywood.”

Sheyreiza’s pace quickened. Was he serious? Did he really want her to step into this unholy circle willingly? To address his gods? She would be struck down in a heartbeat. Of course, that seemed to be the point. She was being offered to his gods. Perhaps that was how the darthiir did it; they got their victims to walk to the sacrificial altar, to present themselves to the gods.

So be it.

Sheyreiza knew there was no escaping the meadow if Jain’n did not want it. There was no hope of fighting her way out. Even if Amenia and Inthara had not been completely enchanted and fought beside her, they were still outnumbered more than two to one, and none of the three of them were armed, while Jain’n and all his elves were bedecked with armor and weapons. There was little choice.

But there was some choice. She could choose how she would enter the circle. She could choose how she would face the treacherous gods of the Seldarine. Sheyreiza could choose how she would face death.

The drow priestess held the gaze of the sun elf lord. She stared into his amber eyes with her own red and blue orbs, searching for a glimpse into his soul. She saw little that she could recognize, or at least little she could understand.

Turning from him, Sheyreiza looked upon the stone at the center of the circle. It was easily twelve feet high and sat in the center of this profane site like some horrid, implacable monster, secure in its power and insatiable in its appetite. It wanted Sheyreiza, she could feel it, could feel it summoning her. It wanted to consumer her. The evil of the Seldarine was at its peak here. Never before had Sheyreiza stood on the edge of a nightmare such as this. Circles and stones like this were the stuff of legends and myth among the Ilythiiri. Some dark elves had seen their like, on raids and bloodings, but to stand next to such a circle, unarmed, all but alone, and in the power of the darthiir? Had any real priestess tread this path and lived?

Sheyreiza closed her eyes and began to disrobe. She let the green silk that Jain’n brought her fall to the snow. She stepped out of the slippers he had given her and shed her cloak as well. From her neck, she lifted the necklace with its warming stone, and dropped it into the snow. Finally, she took the flower from her hair, the one Jain’n had given her. She handed it to him now.

“I will go before your gods naked, as I am,” Sheyreiza said, “not as some one else wants me to be.” Sheyreiza looked into Jain’n’s eyes again. “I think you will know what to do with the flower when this is over.”

Jain’n still smiled but Shey was sure she saw the slightest shadow pass across his face. Her reaction was not what he had guessed it would be, or at least not what he hoped it would be. “I will.” He replied.

Sheyreiza had already turned from him, her body now naked of all clothing, all adornment but her tattoos, and those were of spiders and webs. She looked at her companions, Inthara and Amenia. She did not smile, she did not speak, she just looked.

Without another word Sheyreiza walked down the wood logs set in the earth around the stone and into the unholy circle. She could feel the pull of the stone. It wanted her to come. So she did.

As she approached the stone Sheyreiza felt her heart race, her face flush and her head grow light. She felt out of touch with her world, her reality, and now she knew she ventured into something she literally could not have imagined. She reached out and touched the giant, monster-stone before her, the stone that called to her soul, beckoning her forward, in all likelihood to be destroyed and damned.

Around Sheyreiza, the other elves moved into the circle and kneeled in praying positions. They watched Shey closely. Though clothed in nothing more substantial than moonlight, the drow priestess seemed unaffected by the cold. Behind her, the other two drow followed into the circle and Inthara began to undress.

Sheyreiza looked at the stone and her eyes followed its bulk from bottom to top and there, at the top, she could see the moon in the sky above. The moon. Was that not one of the Dark Maiden’s symbols? Sheyreiza took a deep breath. It was time to face whatever it was the darthiir and their miserable gods had in store for her. Sheyreiza was determined, however, to face their wrath with pride, as a priestess of Lolth, as a noble Ilythiiri female. She would face whatever came fearlessly, and with no further hesitation. She stared at the night sky and then her voice broke the eerie silence of Lonelywood’s night.

“Do you see me Eilistraee?” Sheyreiza called out at the moon. “Do you hear me? Do you hear me calling you?” Sheyreiza’s voice began to rise. “I have questions for you Dark Maiden, and your followers have told me to come here and ask you myself, so I here I am. Will you answer me? Will you answer my questions Dark Maiden? Do you hear me? DO YOU?” Sheyreiza was screaming now, her questions directed to the gibbous moon above.

A figure the size of a giant appeared at the edge of a circle. It was a drow female, perhaps twenty feet tall, of incomparable beauty. Her skin was a dark as the darkest night sky and her silver hair glittered with the radiance of the moon itself. Her radiant locks fell to her ankles and swirled about her feet. Indeed, it looked as if she was really supported by her the light that was her hair, gliding across the snow on her glowing tresses. Flowers appeared in the snow at her feet.

Sheyreiza knew that Eilistraee had come. The goddess had heard her and had come. Sheyreiza also knew fear, for she also in seeing Eilistraee, in feeling her, in coming into her presence, Sheyreiza knew something else: Sheyreiza had come to know that Eilistraee was good.

The goddess’ mere appearance, mere aura was enough to answer all of Sheyreiza’s questions about the Dark Maiden’s heart. Here, then, was goddess who truly loved the Ilythiiri. Here then was a goddess who was as light as her mother was dark. This goddess knew love and she lived it. Sheyreiza saw herself reflected next to the love, the power, the glory that was the Dark Maiden and she fell to her knees. What was Sheyreiza next to this? A misguided, petty, insignificant evil that did not deserve Eilistraee’s mercy.

All around Sheyreiza elves fell to the ground in worship to the Dark Maiden. They muttered prayers of thanks and happiness and joy. Smiles of warmth, relief, understanding and love were on every face. Even Inthara and Amenia seemed overwhelmed with joy at the sight of the Dark Maiden, but not Sheyreiza. As Shey fell to her knees in the snow she fell crying. This being of light, this being of goodness and love was going to destroy Shey for her evil and Shey knew she deserved it. Hopeless, crying, Shey lowered her head into the snow and awaited judgment.

The goddess moved slowly, easily, gracefully, around the circle. She addressed Jain’n first but Sheyreiza, in her hopelessness, did not hear what the goddess said. Next, the goddess addressed Amenia. Sheyreiza looked up from where she kneeled in the snow, freezing, crying and waiting. Amenia was smiling now, a look of happiness and contentment on her face the likes of which Sheyreiza had never seen.

The avatar of the goddess touched Amenia on the head and spoke. “I have a gift for you child. If you care for the beasts of my forest, I shall give to you Vraja to serve as your protector and guide.”

Amenia nodded, still smiling. “Thank you.” Was all the drowess could say.

Behind Sheyreiza, Inthara had begun crying as well. As she cried she began to beg. She begged for acceptance, she begged to repent of her evil and she begged for the Dark Maiden’s love. Mostly, she begged to be forgiven.

A stab of pain shot through Sheyreiza’s soul. Forgiveness? For what? Yes, they had done evil, Sheyreiza could see that now. Never had she seen or felt what ‘good’ really was and now that she had, she knew she had done evil, but, what was her alternative? Was she not born to it?

Inthara continued to cry and beg and the goddess came to her. “You are forgiven child.” The goddess said. “And I have a gift for you as well.” The goddess reached out and touched the bracelet Inthara wore and it crumbled to dust in the snow. The bracelet had been the chain by which Inthara had been bound by the House Wizard of Qu’ellar Despana. That binding had ruled Inthara’s life for more years than Shey knew, and it was that binding that had given Shey power over Inthara. Sheyreiza had promised to have the binding broken, setting Inthara free, if Inthara served her. Now, with but a touch, the goddess had freed Inthara. Such power, such mercy, but why had the goddess not done that before? Why did Inthara have to suffer so until now? First through the manipulation of the Despana House Wizard and later through Sheyreiza. Inthara had been used for most of her life, perhaps all of it. Why now was she set free? Where had Eilistraee been before?

“I give you Sirril to watch over and protect you.” The goddess decreed to Inthara.

Sheyreiza knew she was next. She knew that in the next few moments, the goddess would come and look into her soul and judge her. But who was this goddess to judge Sheyreiza? Sheyreiza had done things, evil things, but where was Eilistraee then? What now gave this Dark Maiden the right to judge Sheyreiza?

The priestess began to shake and she cried harder as the goddess approached. Sheyreiza could sense Eilistraee behind her. Shey shook and trembled and bit her lip, tears streaming from her eyes but even as her fear grew so too did her anger grow. It came over her then, washing across her like the tide across the beach coming in waves, each wave gaining further and further up the shore. She put her hands out and pushed off the ground and forced herself to stand on legs that seemed to have no bones left. With a supreme effort of will, Sheyreiza stood erect and turned to face the goddess.

Eilistraee stood before her, in all her magnificence and Sheyreiza’s eyes widened. This was not real. This was a moment out of time. There was no preparing for coming face to face with such a thing as righteous goddess who would now judge you. Sheyreiza trembled and fought against her fear and her anger and her urge to simply fall to the ground in obedience. She focused on Inthara, on Inthara’s begging for forgiveness and on Inthara’s bracelet. Sheyreiza blinked as she stared at the silent divinity before her. This was not real. There was no point in giving into to any worldly emotion for this moment was a moment out of this world.

“Whh..wh…” Sheyreiza stammered. Tears poured from her eyes as never before. Seeing Eilistraee, seeing this goodly goddess of the Ilythiir before her opened the door in Sheyreiza’s soul completely and out poured all the emotions behind that door and the one which overwhelmed all the others was grief.

Sheyreiza forced herself to look up at the goddess’ face and into her eyes. She would not be judged kneeling. She would not be cowed.

“Where have you been?” Sheyreiza asked finally, her voice almost breaking with heartache. “Where have you been all these years, all these centuries, all these millennia?” She was crying harder now, if possible, barely able to stammer out her questions. The grief poured out as freely as the tears. “We needed you. We have needed you so much. Your mother needed you and she needs you still! Where were you? Why weren’t you there for us? All these years and where were you? We have had no hope for so long. We are born into a world so cold you cannot even imagine it and we fight and die there and for what? WHAT? Why? Why does it have to be that way? I plot my mother’s death, and my sisters plot to kill me. Why? Why do we have to live in a world so evil? Where have you been? Why didn’t you help us? What did we do? What did I do? I was not there in Arvandor with Araushnee and Corellon. I was not there when Miyeritar was destroyed. What did I do to deserve such a life? What did any of us do? Why was I born to live and die in the dark? Why was I born in world beneath the world? Why can’t I walk in Arvandor? Why are we so cursed and why, if you are so good, which I can see that you are, why haven’t you helped us? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Sheyreiza was screaming now, her voice barely comprehensible as one hundred and twenty years of pain, fear, anger, mistrust, grief and hatred poured out.

It has been said many times by many people that the eyes are the windows of the soul. Into the eyes of the goddess Sheyreiza gazed, screaming out her frustration, screaming out her pain, screaming out her questions.

The goddess answered.

Eilistraee opened up the windows to her soul and as Sheyreiza looked into those divine orbs she saw: She saw where Eilistraee had been for the last 10,000 years of the Ilythiir struggle; she saw what Eilistraee had been doing for the 10,000 years of the Ilythiir struggle. Eilistraee showed Sheyreiza her own pain, her own frustration, her own struggle. Sheyreiza felt the agony of the Melarn priestess who carried the Crescent Blade for the Dark Maiden as she was devoured; she felt the heartache of Qilue Veladorn who lost her loved ones in the service of Eilistraee; she felt every sacrifice, every loss, every hurt and every struggle the Dark Maiden had endured during her eons of struggle with her dark mother.

Sheyreiza screamed aloud and though her audible scream was incomprehensible, in her mind, she begged Eilistraee to stop. She begged to not see or feel anything more. It was too much, simply too much. Though only seconds passed, Sheyreiza felt as if she was passing through unendurable anguish for centuries.

She knew where Eilistraee had been. She knew what Eilistraee had done. And she knew what Eilistraee and her followers had suffered on behalf of the Ilythiiri.

Sheyreiza knew but knowing was too much. Sheyreiza’s eyes rolled back in her head as her soul screamed for mercy from the vision. The naked priestess passed out into the welcome oblivion of unconciousness. She fell into the arms of the goddess, who was now no taller than a human, and all was silent in the circle again.

Sheyreiza’s questions had been answered.

[Souvarine]

I felt more energy emanating from the lines of this text than the other flowers combined, a better sense of rythm.

[Blindhamsterman]

.... i dunno how you managed it but i was close to tears...

[Mikayla]

The session in which the events described above took place was the most intense role-playing experience I have ever had while gaming. Going into the scene, as Shey shouted for Eilistraee to hear her, I (Shey) had real questions about Eilistraee’s intent – specifically, her intent towards her mother, Lolth (Araushnee). Shey was not about to worship a goddess whose purpose was to kill her mother – that would make Eilistraee no better than Lolth and it would mean killing the goddess Shey realized she loved, though Lolth did not likely love her back. When Eilistraee (played by Sadmuse) appeared and flowers DID spring up at her feet, I (Shey) really did feel all those questions about intent swept away. It was clear just from her appearance that she was “good.” That eventually gave rise to the other questions.

By the time Eilistraee walked up behind Shey, I was crying in real life. As Shey began her tirade, I was crying so hard I could barely type and I did not stop until after Shey passed out. Odd, because of course, I am not drow in real life nor was born into an evil I could not escape. Still, for those few moments, I think I really felt Shey’s pain like it was my own and I wanted answers. Eilistraee (Sadmuse) gave them to me.

[Virvaldin]

[Killthorne]

Great RP all of you, and as always, such beautiful writing Mik...

And a better and more accurate view of Eilistraee than ever told in ALFA before.

Thank you.


~Killthorne~

[Muse]

I had to pipe up to tell you I am speachless...

[mr duncan]

id like to add my voice to the others raised in praise of your storytelling. thou im not sure if your stories are as emotionally charged/draining on all your readers, as your RP is on me.



anway, thanks for the game and the story



john

[Mikayla]

And thank you John, both for the RP and the praise. Even if I had to twist your arm to get you to post publicly! (I am soooo shameless....)

[Zakharra]

I loved reading your view. It is so good and refreshing. Reading it makes me go thru it all over again.