Light and the Night Sky

The Cup

Still dizzy and in pain, she stood and walked over to Iridessa. After kneeling in front of her, Daphne smiled. “There are some things that I need you to understand before I continue. Yesterday wasn’t enough for me.” When she nodded, Daphne nodded. “I am going to stay with the cup metaphor, alright?”

“Daphne.” Sorren was at her shoulder with the same cup and pitcher from last night.

His swiftness made her giggle, but she took them. “Thank you, Sorren.” Turning back to Iridessa, she held up the cup. “Your body and soul are effectively two different things. The body is the cup, your soul the water. Right now, your body has been healed and protected but it is not impervious. However, the problem is your soul.” She poured the glass a quarter the way full. “This is how much of your soul is left.”

Frustration furrowed her brow, “Explain, please.”

“Your soul was actively leaving your body when you were brought here, most of your soul had already transition to the next place. The burn, is not just some plague. It is some sort leach that is corroding what is left of you, eating away at your soul. We need to have your soul artificially replaced enough for me to be able to repel the burn without destroying you.” Daphne paused a moment and held up the pitcher. “We need someone that has a similar enough power to you that your body will not reject their energy intertwining into yours. If we do that, we can at least get your cup to the necessary halfway mark to safely proceed.” She poured more water into the cup as she spoke but slowly. “This will be a very delicate walk, if we take too much time preparing then your soul will not be strong enough to withstand the burn’s hunger. But if we do not take long enough, you will not have enough water in the glass to protect yourself from breaking.”

Iridessa blinked rapidly for a few moments then met her eyes. “I have a cousin that arrived in our ranks, would that satisfy your requirement?” Daphne was amazed at how quickly the woman adapted to change, accepting what her fate brought.

Smiling, some of the tension left her shoulders. One step down. “It’s possible. Can they be brought here?”

Behind her a deep voice answered and the shrine’s doors opened quietly. “Go.”

Looking back at Riven, she nodded. “Thank you.” Turning back to Iridessa, she handed the glass of water. “Drink. We need you hydrated. Also, fruit and meat. You have been ill, so you haven’t been eating properly. I know that its difficult but any support that we can give your body right now is what needs to be done.” Once she took the glass from Daphne, the woman stood. “While we wait, I have questions for the two of you.” She spun on her heel to face the two Lords, her head spun for a moment but Daphne was able to steady herself before continuing.

Lirael was the first to speak, a curious tone touched his voice. “I suspect you will have many questions. Please, ask.”

Daphne smiled at him then grasped her hands in front of her. “What is the light bringer to you? Well to fae? What Hecate has told me is that she is brought to you as an emissary in times of war. However, from what I see, and what has been relayed to me, you ended the war between your houses recently.” Clenching her jaw tightly to end her rambling, she met Lirael’s eyes and motioned him to answer.

“Both are correct, the Court of Morvanna and Grimoria have been at war for nearly a century until the last year. Riven and I recently inherited the titles of High Lord’s and elected to end the war on behalf of our people. To preemptively answer one of your next questions, it was decided during that peace brokering that during each solstice the High Lord would attend the ceremony of the other Court as a show of good faith. Hence why Riven was here when you arrived.” While he spoke, his voice was soft and even. Lirael watched her, gaging her reaction.

Nodding, she relaxed. Understanding why things were, helped her make sense of stressful situations. “That was one of my questions, thank you. I am prioritizing so that was going to come later.”

Daphne chewed on her lip for a moment, choosing her next question carefully before continuing. “Are you sure that Hecate meant that war?”

Riven’s dark voice spoke besides her, he was leaning against the base of the statue now. At least he looked more relaxed than he had before. “Explain.” His tone was hard.

Daphne turned to Riven, meeting his gaze directly. “Not all wars require the intervention of a Goddess; she has to have faith that the people that believe in her are wise enough to end the war on their own.” Daphne watched Riven’s jaw clench. “Think about it for a moment. If Hecate sent an emissary every time there was a squabble, it would start to feel more like a dictatorship than an offering of peace. You would have no voice, no choice in how matters were decided.”

His eyes snapped to her’s; a growl ripped through him “Squabbles? It was war.”

Daphne breathed deeply before answering, not rising to his rage. “I meant that broadly and not directly to the conflict between your nations. That being said. How old are you?” He still glowered at her but she continued. “Did you participate through the whole war? If you did, why didn’t you stop it?”

“Daphne.” Lirael’s tone was low in warning.

“No, he needs to hear what I am saying. Everyone has suffered, and it is horrid. I am truly sorry that you had to endure what you did. But listen to my words.” Daphne spoke slowly, emphasizing her empathy. When he didn’t speak, she continued. “If that was not the war Hecate meant, then what is?”

Sorren broke the tension with a soft, “There are some small towns that are fighting for territories out east?”

Daphne smiled slightly but shook her head. “I don’t think that is it, but thank you. As an outside perspective. I think it’s the burn.”

“Explain.” Riven growled.

“That is not natural, it is caused by something. Powered by magic. As far as I understand, magic is created by people, beings. The burn is not a sickness or illness, it’s a curse. You are being attacked.”

“That is not possible.” Riven’s eyes wavered, but his tone still dark.

“It’s called biological warfare, the silent war.” Daphne signed, meeting his eyes in hopes that he could see that she meant what she said.