Ashes to Ashes

### **Preface**

This fic was written by Saelswith, mainly from Mavka’s POV. It's based on the events of Session 25 and Session 26, when Mavka returned to Isaldul. The first five sections were published originally and the last two were added 1/7/22.

### **A New Day**

Karaa held Mavka’s hand as they watched the pale sunrise begin to bring cold blue light to the forest floor. Their peaceful breaths billowed into the chill morning air as they leaned into each other.

Mavka rested her head on Karaa’s shoulder as the taller elf wrapped her arms around Mavka. Though the morning was cold and the campfire was dying, they were perfectly content in each other’s arms. Mavka hadn’t realized how much she had missed Karaa until now, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget again.

This was a new day. A good day. The fresh Isalduian air was a much-welcome respite after the heat of the Onotaran deserts and the thick smoke in Modale. Mavka wished that the morning could last forever, just the two of them together in the cold, with no thought of what the future might bring.

But time presses on, with no regard for what she might wish.

Once the air was warm enough for them to move without inviting the cold sting of the autumn air, the two elves stood, hand-in-hand, and began walking through the tall trees. The forest floor was now illuminated with dappled golden light, and Mavka thought that the world had never looked so perfect.

She and Karaa began rifling through the foliage of the understory for dry firewood, fresh berries, fiddlehead ferns, spruce tips, eggs, and mushrooms to make for breakfast. Where there was not enough, Mavka softly chanted musical Druidic words, and more grew. She and her friends would not go hungry this morning.

Only once their arms were full of foliage and their mouths were full of laughter did they return to camp to cook breakfast for their friends.

While Karaa stoked the fire, Mavka held out her hand and whispered an incantation in Druidic. In her hand, there appeared an image of a sunny, clear sky, and Mavka smiled. The freezing rains of the previous night would soon be forgotten in warm sunlight.

“Sunny day today?” Karaa asked, seeing the image in the palm of Mavka’s hand.

“Yep!” Mavka chirped, the image in her hand vanishing as she expertly flipped one of the omelets in its pan. She had made sure to save one of the larger mushrooms to cook as a mushroom steak for Caeli, in case the vegetarian monk didn’t eat eggs.

Despite Travis leaving to spend time with his estranged father, it seemed that Caeli was still determined not to eat anything that Travis couldn’t also eat. Considering that Travis was allergic to nearly everything, and that Caeli was a vegetarian on top of all of it all, Mavka wasn’t quite sure what Caeli *could* eat, but she figured she’d just give it her best guess—normally she’d ask, but she wanted to let Caeli sleep a bit longer. Besides, she could always Druidcraft herself some more food. At worst, she would have to go back out to forage some more, not that Mavka would mind another walk through the forest.

Karaa and Mavka began to serve everyone breakfast as the rest of the party awoke.

Helio, in the true fashion of an earth genasi soldier, woke up first, thanked them politely, and sat down to eat. Gossamer and Caeli soon followed suit. Once the others had been served, Karaa and Mavka sat down to eat together, laughing and reminiscing about the old days in Isaldul. They were in the middle of reliving the first time that Mavka had started exploring her druidic powers; Mavka had pranked Faen on a camping trip, tricking him into thinking that she had been taken by werewolves. Oh, to return to the days when they hadn't believed werewolves were real.

“Hey, Mavka,” Gossamer approached them, looking slightly worried. “Is there anything I can do in Isaldul? To blend in, I mean?” She gestured to the tattoos embroidering the pale skin of her face and chest. While Gossamer's style wasn't exactly common, there was enough eccentricity in Isaldul that it would hardly matter.

With a laugh and a wave of her hand, Mavka cast Druidcraft to give all her friends flower crowns; violets for Karaa, marigolds for Gossamer, sunflowers for Caeli, petunias for Helio, and ferns for herself.

“That should help, but don’t worry about blending in,” Mavka said. “As long as we’re all on our best behavior, we’ll be fine.” There was a playful light in her eye as she spoke, but it died as the others continued talking.

As her friends began to pack up camp, Mavka stared into the campfire with a carefully unreadable expression. Her eyes glazed over as she was lost in thought; she had suddenly remembered the familiar pit of anxiety in her stomach.

For a split second she felt the familiar urge to *run* again.

Run from what? She was safe here, with her friends, and with Karaa. Soon she would get to see her family and her home again.

Still, the anxiety deepened as Mavka stared into the flames lapping up from the campfire. The smoke spiraled up into the tall trees, blocking the sun. It cast a shadow over Mavka's face. Fear crept into her mind as the pit in her stomach tightened.

*Do they know?*

No. Of course not. Even if they did, the whole thing had been a dreadful accident. This was her home; these were her friends and her family. Surely they would understand.

*And what if they don't? What will you do then?* The little voice grew louder in her head, and Mavka stifled a scoff. Didn't the voice know it was unwanted?

*What would your friends think? What would Karaa think?*

What a stupid question. They already knew. Most of them had been with her when it happened. Of course they knew. They might not have understood, but they knew. What had happened in the Davelwyn Woods had been a terrible accident. Her friends only mentioned it occasionally to tease her. Even Navis, the old god whose forest she'd set alight, had been placated, although that had not been by any virtue of her own.

*Well of course they know* that*. I meant the other thing.*

“Mavka?”

Mavka blinked to see Karaa standing before her, backlit by the morning sun. Mavka realized that camp had been torn down; all that was left was to put out the fire and take down their tree.

“Come on," Karaa said. "We have to get going. It sounds like Eris isn’t the kind of person who likes to be kept waiting.”

“Oh, right! Sorry,” Mavka said as she took a deep breath and stretched. There was no use worrying about *what-ifs*; she had made her decisions and she would deal with the consequences, whatever they would be.

*Whatever they* *will* *be*. Mavka had to force the *what-ifs* out of her head again.

Mavka ducked to grab the glass orb from the base of their camp tree, where the tent and their sleeping bags had been tied up, and the tree popped back into its place inside of the orb. Then, with a snap of her fingers, the campfire was extinguished, not so much as an ember remaining.

If only she had known that spell the day she left Isaldul.

### **An Old Mistake**

The meeting with Eris went relatively well; the Amber Order had learned some valuable information about the rifts. Eris left to obtain more, declining Mavka’s invitation to stay with them in Isaldul to research its vast library.

That was probably for the best.

Mavka's anxiety mounted as it appeared there was but one way forward; if her doppelganger was in Isaldul, Mavka had to be there to stop whatever she was doing. Who knew what kind of terrible plots Zund had in store for her homeland.

The road ahead seemed to stretch into infinity, and Mavka had to fight not to drag her feet with every step as they approached the pass into Isaldul. So far, it seemed that none of her friends had noticed her lethargy. Maybe they were just too polite to say anything.

Ahead, two figures waved, drawing Mavka out of her thoughts. Those would be the guards, keeping watch over the pass. She put her hood up and kept her head down. They were nearly there.

Mavka lagged slightly behind everyone else as that little voice sounded in her head again, this time accompanied by a sudden rush of adrenaline.

*Run! Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run— shut* up*!* She silenced the voice in her head as the group slowed to a halt, and hesitantly stepped forward with the rest of her party.

“Welcome to Isaldul!” The guards greeted them, all smiles, but those smiles quickly fell when they laid eyes on Mavka, and her heart sank.

They knew. They knew that the destruction of the Davelwyn Woods was her fault.

That meant *everyone* knew.

*I tried to warn you!* The little voice had resorted to sing-song mockery.

“Uh, erm, if you all could just wait here for a moment,” one of the guards said, eyeing Mavka suspiciously. “The Elders will want to know *you’re* here.”

*The Elders will want to know* you're *here,* the infuriating little voice echoed.

The world seemed to sway as Mavka stared at the ground, her face burning. Despite all the running, her mistake had finally caught up to her.

She tried to convince herself that it was better that way. This would be what was best for everyone. Whatever happened, it would be for the good of Isaldul, her friends, her family, *and* herself.

Before her friends could see the hot tears that sprang to her eyes, Mavka turned her back on them to stare into the mountain pass, back the way they had come. The tan elf raised an arm to wipe her eyes, but Karaa grabbed her hand, her blue-black skin interlacing with Mavka's tanned fingers. Mavka stiffened, waiting for disappointed words that never came.

There was only a reassuring silence.

Overcome by the rush of emotions that she'd been holding back, Mavka put her other hand over her mouth and leaned on Karaa, trying not to audibly sob. They faced away from everyone else, which was as much privacy as they could get. Besides, Mavka still couldn’t bear to meet anyone’s eyes. She’d rather stare at the ground, at the sky, into the sun—anything would be better than seeing the looks on her friends’ faces.

The waiting seemed to take an eternity. Though the voice in her head had been silent for a moment, it soon returned, and that eternity was filled with *what-ifs*.

However, the two guards did finally return, accompanied by six more. They were all heavily armed.

“If you’ll come with us,” one of them said, their voice cold. “The Elders will see you. Now.”

Mavka, who had been staring blankly off into the forest, took a deep breath and summoned the calmest, most care-free voice that she possibly could. “Karaa, could you take Helio, Gossamer, and Caeli to my parents’ house? I’ll meet you all there afterward.”

It was a blatant lie. Mavka had no idea if there would even *be* an afterward— in fact, she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be. She just didn’t want any of her friends to have to see it. Or maybe she didn’t want any of them to think of her differently because of it. Either way, it wouldn’t matter—she didn’t want *anyone* to be there if she could help it.

The truth was that Mavka was scared. She had been scared of everything this whole time.

It wasn't exactly a secret, but that didn't make her any less ashamed. Her friends were amazing: Helio was a strong, powerful fighter, who'd faced the horrors of war; Gossamer was a respected hunter and assassin, the daughter of her clan's leader; and Caeli was a steadfast monk who somehow had a bottomless well of courage, no matter the dangers they faced.

Jealousy rose from the pit in Mavka's stomach. How were they all so calm about everything? Her first encounters after leaving Isaldul— her first fights ever— had ended disastrously: the giant frog peacefully minding its own business in the Davelwyn Woods had been slaughtered because she had nervously pointed it out to the group, and later that very same evening, a single panicked move in the heat of her first ever real battle had set an entire sacred forest ablaze.

They had calmly and strategically assessed the situation, while she had panicked at the first sign of danger, despite her years of training.

*It's a wonder they still let you travel with them, really,* the voice whispered. *You're more than just bad luck—you're a danger to them.*

*What an accomplished group of adventurers your friends are! Helio, Bane of the Blackguard; Travis, Protector of the People; Gossamer, Blessed by Zvezda; Caeli, Force for Good; Karaa, Siren of the Stars; and last, certainly least, you, Mavka Valkalyn...*

*What title would you rather give yourself: Flame of the Forest? Perhaps the Destroyer of the Davelwyn? No, those titles are too grand. You will be known only as a coward, and you deserve wh—*

Karaa stubbornly squeezed Mavka's hand, bringing her back to reality. "I'll give them directions, but I'm coming with you," she said, voice firm.

Could Karaa see through her so easily? Mavka might have laughed or even argued if she had the energy, but she just nodded, eyes downcast.

Mavka had known Karaa as long as she could remember; if Karaa were in her position (like that would ever happen), Mavka knew she would have done the same. This and her quiet desperation to be remembered as anything other than a coward—ironic though it was—were what let her relent. If she was to die for her crimes, Mavka hated to admit that she didn't want to be alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces. If Karaa was there, maybe she could find peace.

The pair gave Gossamer, Helio, and Caeli directions to the quaint family farmhouse of the Valkalyns in the Appledores. They set off on a path lined by berry bushes that bore fruit year-round. Then, Karaa and Mavka departed with their armed escort.

### **A Familiar Path**

It was the stares more than anything that Mavka couldn’t stand. The armed guards, the whispers, even the pointing were tolerable to some degree. They were rude enough that Mavka's defensiveness let them slide off of her like water off a duck's back. The stares, though—to see the faces of people she had known all her life looking at her with barely-masked disgust, anger, even fear—that got to her.

That was what she couldn’t bear the chance of seeing in the faces of her friends, and that was why she didn’t look back as she left them.

It was why she still couldn’t meet Karaa’s eyes.

She felt like a prisoner of war, being paraded through the streets after a humiliating defeat. Mavka supposed some of that was true. She wondered if she really was a prisoner, and found herself wondering what would happen if she *were* to run.

*You could always find out,* the voice teased.

Mavka decided she would not find out, even with that nagging little voice in her head and another sudden burst of energy that could let her leap and bound through the forest with a speed that few would ever know. She could disappear before anyone knew what had happened.

She took a deep breath, feeling the forest around her as they walked toward what she knew would be her final destination. At least the journey was pleasant.

Warm sunlight and cool shadows danced in dappled patterns across her pale green skin. The scents of growth and decay mingled in her nose as dew on the leaves above dripped down into the rich soil. Birdsong echoed from high in the tall canopy, and squirrels chittered from the ground below as they hoarded seeds and nuts in their caches. Mavka could sense a herd of deer foraging among the ferns, even as they were stalked by a mountain lion who needed to feed her cubs. Nearby, bears were fattening themselves on the salmon from the clear streams. Some of the smaller deciduous trees began to shed their leaves as the evergreens began to slow their growth.

Everthing happening in the forest at that moment was to prepare for winter, the season of rest. Mavka could feel the emotions of the land, the desperation to prepare for winter, the exhaustion and need for rest, the respect and love—yes, love—betwixt the hunter and the hunted.

Everything that happened in the forest happened because it needed to. That did not mean it happened apathetically.

Warmth and cold, dark and light, flood and drought, struggle and success, life and death: her forest, her home, was as it had always been, and as it would always be. The cycle of seasons would repeat into infinity, as it always had. Winter snow and summer rains would water the land; in spring, life would begin growing again with the melting snow, just as that growth was now beginning to slow in the shortening autumn days.

Every morning, the sun would rise over the forest to feed the plants, and every evening it would set so that they could rest; every month, the moon would wax and live and wane and die; every year, the stars would chart their course across the sky, spinning their dance endlessly through their abyss.

Mavka drew comfort from the timelessness and predictability of the cycles of nature. Whatever happened to her, the forest would live on. It would slowly change, as all things did—as all things must to survive—but it would live. She would be lucky to become part of it.

The road to The Standing Stones was familiar, as were many of the gawking faces. Mavka kept her eyes on the ground in front of her, relying on her other senses to observe the forest, and Karaa kept her hand held tightly. The cobbled path through the woods eventually turned to smooth stone, but Mavka barely noticed. She was savoring her last feelings of the forest, of Karaa walking next to her, trying to drown out her racing thoughts.

Mavka hoped that her family would be home to receive her visiting friends, and that they would be there for each other when she didn't come back, if they needed comfort. Mavka wished there would be someone there for Karaa, then realized *she* was the one who was supposed to be there for Karaa. Her lover would be as alone as Mavka felt now, but Mavka wouldn't be there to comfort Karaa as Karaa had her.

That wasn't very fair.

The thought brought Mavka nearly to a halt, the realization in perfect time with their arrival. The soft morning light was gone, now; above, dark-violet storm clouds swirled. The Standing Stones loomed menacingly in the air, their dark shapes silhouetted against the green lightning in the sky.

The wind whispered tauntingly past her ears: *You could still run, if you wanted to. Freedom could be yours. It's not too late yet.*

The boulders, inscribed with glowing druidic runes, were circling slowly through the air around the center platform. The huge mass of hundreds of tons of suspended dark stone looked out over the golden grassland beyond the forest.

The stones looked just as they had the last time Mavka had been here. That visit had been for her druidic initiation, after she had completed her trial. Difficult as it had seemed at the time, that years-long trial paled in comparison to anything she had done in the past few weeks.

It felt like the breeze was trying to push Mavka away from the platform as the little voice sounded in her head again: *Leave, now! Go! Run!*

She wished she had half of Caeli's courage, but Mavka wilted under the suffocating feeling of panic.

One of the guards had to nudge Mavka into proceeding. She slid off the bags she had been carrying for the past several weeks, full of spell components and traveling supplies, and set them gently on the stone at Karaa’s feet. As she took off her crown of ferns to give it to Karaa, her hands began to shake. Karaa set the flower crown on the bags, and took Mavka’s hands instead.

When Mavka finally looked up, she met Karaa’s eyes for the first time in what felt like eons; the tears welling in her lover's eyes reflected the green lightning that danced through the sky like an aurora.

“I—” Mavka’s voice caught in her throat as her own tears welled up. She didn’t know what to say. *I love you?* She couldn't say that now, as she was leaving. They had only just found each other again. It was too cruel.

She tore her eyes away from Karaa’s face and turned to look up at the stone stairs to the altar. Green lightning flashed quietly through the purple clouds above as a gentle breeze blew past, softly pushing her toward the stone platform.

Visions of the past danced in Mavka's head; there had been other beautiful mornings. There had been late nights under the stars, long days spent in each other's company, all full of adventures and troubles and peace. Would those days be all that she was allowed? She had wanted more. She wanted to stay with Karaa.

Mavka didn't want to go, but she could not fathom any other course of action. She would *not* run, however much she still wanted to. She had no-one to blame but herself.

“I’m sorry,” Mavka whispered over her shoulder. She let Karaa’s hands slip from her grasp, and began climbing the stairs. Her legs felt slow and heavy now, as if she were carrying the weight of all the Standing Stones on her shoulders. No sudden burst of flighty energy could rescue her this time, but she still wished it would come. Mavka reckoned that she may be a dead woman, but she could still feel alive for a moment.

Was she insane, doing this willingly when she knew what could happen? Then again, the only alternative was taking advice from that pesky little voice in her head. That was enough to give Mavka the answer to her own question.

She stood alone for a moment, in the center of The Standing Stones, while the tumultuous sky swirled above her. From up here, she could see a huge crowd gathering, sheltered from the wind by the tall trees.

Goddess. There were *so many* people. The crowd of spectators loomed with the trees' shadows, more massive than the weight of the boulders encaging her. Was her family here? How many of her friends? For a dizzying moment, it felt as if everyone in the world was watching her.

*They all see you, now,* the little voice said gleefully. *Now they all know what they want to know. Everyone sees you as they have always wanted to, and you can't stop them.*

There was sudden movement at the edge of the stones, and Mavka’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

She didn't relax when she saw that it was the three druidic Elders: Hathoral, Camus, and Ian. The lightning in the storm clouds began to flash more frequently as they drew near, and the thunder grew louder, sounding almost vengeful. The wind picked up speed, spinning the boulders round and round so quickly that it became difficult for Mavka to see anything outside of the platform.

Karaa could only see flashes of what was happening between the short gaps in the colossal stones that were passing in front of her view of Mavka. It looked like Mavka and the Elders were talking, but she couldn’t hear them over the deafening wind and occasional thunder. After what looked like a pause in the conversation and a slight hesitation, Mavka gave her staff to one of the Elders, along with a few words. One of the Elders then responded briefly.

Whatever was said, Mavka looked shocked, and Karaa finally saw the unmasked fear in her eyes. As the Elders left the circle, taking Mavka's staff with them, the isolated wood elf whipped around, her eyes searching frantically for something that she never found. Karaa watched Mavka stumble suddenly, and Karaa's breath hitched. It was as if they had both been hit by some invisible force.

Horrified tears blurred Karaa's vision as she saw Mavka lifted into the air by some invisible force, floating above the stone platform as the Standing Stones whirled in a maelstrom around her.

Mavka had stopped struggling, and was staring up into the clouds. What was she looking at? Karaa strained her eyes, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, besides the green lightning and violet clouds.

When her confused gaze flitted back to Mavka, the wood elf was meeting her eyes. Mavka tried to shout something to her above the wind, but Karaa couldn't hear it. Mavka shouted again, her voice lost in the storm, but Karaa could read her lips.

*"I love you!"*

There was a blinding flash of green lightning, a deafening crack of thunder, and Mavka was gone. Suspended in her place, there was a single tiny flame, battered by the wind.

*"I love you!"*

What would those words have sounded like, coming from Mavka's lips?

Karaa could only imagine.

Mavka hadn't realized she'd be facing a *deity*.

She looked skyward as the Elders left the platform, isolating her amidst the whirlwind of stone and dark sky. *Something* was waiting for her in the clouds, and her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of facing it.

Her heart was racing, pumping adrenaline to limbs that wanted to *run* and run *forever*, until they broke or failed or wore away. The little voice in her head was screaming now, drowning out the sound of the wind and the thunder.

People were predictable. People could see and see wrongly. Any judgement passed by her druidic Elders would have been tolerable, because they would have been swayed either for her or against her. Mavka knew this, and she had been prepared for it; impartiality is difficult when you're bound by the concepts of time and an inevitably skewed morality. A harsher judgement she could have accepted as their varied perspectives of the situation, which she could not hold against them; likewise, a lesser sentence could have been due to their pity for her, and she could not hold that against them, either—and all that to say nothing of her own bias in the situation.

Mavka had never believed that mercy or justice were flaws, even in excess. There would always be some degree of one found in the other. Justice against an offender is also mercy, to some degree, toward their potential future victims. Alternatively, mercy toward an offender could be seen as justice for their future self, an understanding that they had the capacity for change and weren't limited to being defined by a single act.

At least, that was how Mavka chose to understand it.

She had no idea if *goddesses* felt the same way. Would Tyr, the Goddess of Justice, even know what mercy was? How could there be a Goddess of Justice but no Goddess of Mercy?

Separating the two seemed impossible to her. What would justice even be without mercy?

*Vengeance!* The little voice screamed in her head.

Oh. *Oh*.

Mavka's blood ran cold as she realized for the first time the true depth of the situation she had gotten herself into. There would be no justice for her mistake; only vengeance for the pain she had caused.

The little voice had won her over, once again. Mavka needed to run, now.

Just as she whipped around to search for a way out from the whirlwind of stones, Mavka was hit by a wave of fatigue. She faltered, stumbling, and nearly collapsed under the sudden weight. It was a familiar weight; it was the kind that made her too slow in her nightmares, the kind that let the monsters catch her.

There was something else, too. A strange force, lifting her up by the very weight pulling her down. Mavka felt as if she were going to be torn in two as her feet left the ground, lifted into the air by the pit of guilt in her stomach. She struggled and strained to fall, to be let go by whatever power held her. No matter how she struggled, she could not fall.

Wind whipped her hair in every direction, stinging her eyes, but she was transfixed by the lights in the sky. For a moment, the violet clouds looked like a smoking, crimson inferno, but she blinked and it was normal again.

Mavka shook off her confusion, the fire of rage filling her veins as she looked out over the sea of faces, searching for any hint of sadness, pity, or hesitation. Someone would be able to help her, surely? Would the people she knew and loved let her die this way, scorned by her entire people?

Her eyes met Karaa's. The dark elf's beautiful turquoise eyes were full of helpless, horrified tears, and Mavka's heart broke. How could she have caused this? She needed Karaa not to worry. Windwhipped tears were torn from her eyes as Mavka's courage solidified.

"It's okay!" Mavka yelled, straining to let her voice carry over the calamitous wind. "I love you!"

There was a flash of green light.

### **A Second Chance**

For just a split second, Mavka thought that nothing had happened; maybe it had all been a bad dream. Maybe she would open her eyes and—

Searing pain stunned her into consciousness.

Fire. Everywhere.

Red-hot, burning, blinding fire rained down from the sky, roared up from the earth, spun in a whirlwind from every side, wreathing Mavka in flames.

There was no escape—she could not move however much she wanted to. She was disembodied, rooted in place. Mavka could feel the pain of the entire forest, all of it; every plant and animal and living thing, burning all at once inside of her.

She felt the fur singing off of still-living animals, the bubbling of skin melting from flesh, the agonizing immobility of pain and the crazed panic that comes with knowing the only way out of it is to run, and the knowledge that there is no way to run.

Mavka felt her hair burn to her scalp, felt her muscles sear and melt and dry and combust, as flammable as the wood of the trees that burned with her, until their branches and her bones had were equally charred. Futile attempts of tears steamed back into her eyes, only causing more. Each pop and crackle of fire, from blaze to ember, wracked her spirit with a spasm of agony as she felt the life leave it.

The pain in her lungs was something she hadn't predicted when being burned alive. The fire selfishly inhaled all available oxygen around it, replacing the life-giving air with the sting of smoke, hot enough to burn skin and lung alike. The only exchange between Mavka's lungs and the air was a desperate, silent choking. The once-soothing air of the forest where she had breathed solace was now hell-bent on destroying her, just as she had destroyed it.

If the world feels love for its life, it can feel hatred too. Mavka was being burned alive by them both. She had no thought of eternity, or of life; she'd had her life and now felt it leave her, in a single moment that lasted for an eternity.

Conscious far beyond what should have killed her, Mavka would have praised the goddess were she able when she at last felt the rising pain ebb into near-numbness as the flames slowly extinguished, leaving charcoal and smoking embers. The feeling was a relief; maybe Tyr did know mercy, after all, and she could slip away into the darkness, never to be plagued by fear or fire again.

It was more than she deserved, knowing now exactly the kind of pain she had caused. Though she was almost past the point of feeling, each crackling ember and pop from a dying flame still caused what was left of her body—thank the goddesses she could no longer see—to jolt with pain, but the reflex was involuntary.

Mavka found herself unable to focus on anything, though a hint of understanding washed over her as she realized what was happening. She could feel herself slipping away, and wanted to welcome the new, healing darkness.

Just as she reached for it, a new voice rang out in Mavka's mind:

**“*Are you willing to change?*”**

Mavka was roused from the edge of consciousness. She couldn’t speak, the pain was so great, or maybe her mouth was no longer physically able to form words. What change did she need, other than to let herself join the forest in their deaths?

An ember popped beside her disfigured ear and Mavka flinched, her slow mind beginning to stir. She hadn't wanted to leave, just a moment ago—she had wished things could be different. She wished *she* could be different. The want was there. Was the willingness?

The dark pull of peace tugged at her thoughts. She wanted to join the forest, and she wanted to change. Death offered her two for the price of one, and she longed to rest in the way that only death could offer after so much agony.

Another crackling ember shook her back to alertness.

Death could offer her the solace she found in nature. Perhaps it could even offer companionship—she could become something new. Perhaps a tree, or a fern, then a deer, and then a mountain lion, and then her cubs. She could find her way back to the soil, and then start the process again, repeating for eternity.

She hesitated, then fully shrank back from the peaceful inky blackness that would always be there, waiting for her.

Companionship. Solace. Peace. Death's promise evaporated into wisps of smoke.

If she had a choice, Mavka would not rob Karaa or her friends of those same things. She had been willing to accept her fate, but was unprepared to make her own decision. Mavka knew she wanted to change. She didn't want to be remembered for what she had done by omission. She wanted to go back to the beautiful mornings she had shared with her friends, and with Karaa.

Was she being offered a second chance?

The goddess's voice rang out again, louder this time:

***"Are you willing to change?"***

Still unable to speak, it was the best Mavka could do to form a single coherent, desperate thought: *Yes!*

It felt as if she were screaming at the top of her lungs, but no audible sound left her lips.

Still, the moment she thought it, the pain began to ease. The embers that had taken root in her bones were quenched. Mavka felt the blackened limbs of the trees and her charred body become one and the same for a moment, like living ashes. She felt like nothing but the scarred remains of everything the flames had destroyed, but somehow she was still alive.

*Was* she still alive?

Suddenly, Mavka was herself again, reclined buried in the ashes of the forest and herself. Before she could comprehend the burial, she soon realized she was breathing because she inhaled the very ashes that buried her. The coughing that ensued stirred black ash into the air around her as she shot upright.

But she wasn't entirely herself. Something was different—she still felt as if she were made of ashes and charcoal and embers, and something inside of her that she could not identify was missing. She felt an emptiness where it had been, but there was a distracting, throbbing pain throughout her whole body.

The forest was silent now. Mavka sat, slumped, in a pit of ashes. She was covered in ashes. Ashes rained from the gray sky. With each breath she took, ashes gently stirred. The entire world was a sea of gray, not a color in sight. Pain still pulsed through her, much milder than the fire had been, but her leg still felt searingly hot. She ignored it.

Mavka tried to force herself up to get a better view of her surroundings, only to fall deeper into the pit of ashes. Her body was wracked with uncontrollable shaking, her legs not yet strong enough to stand.

Frustrated, Mavka tried to scoot backwards to pull her legs out of the ash in an attempt to find solid ground to sit on so that she could brush off her legs and rest. Her left leg still burned, unseen under the ashes, but there was no blood soaking the ash as she moved. That had to be a good sign, right?

Pulling herself onto a gnarled, blackened tree root, Mavka sat with her legs dangling into the pit of ashes as she began to dust herself off.

Her right leg was mostly fine, as far as she could see, which through the ashes wasn't much.

Mavka mentally prepared herself to find and treat severe burn wounds on her left leg, which stung with the searing pain of the fire. She began to brush off her left leg, wincing at the memory of bubbling, crisping skin, and prayed she'd be able to stay conscious for long enough to treat it.

There was a moment of quiet shock. What remained of Mavka’s tattered, blackened clothing and dark ash-covered hair swayed in a soft breeze that stung as if her skin was still burned.

She stared, uncomprehending, at her left leg, which now ended in a stump at about the mid-thigh.

Something in Mavka wanted to laugh hysterically. *No more running now!* She taunted the conspicuously absent voice in her head.

But instead of laughter, panic rose in her throat as Mavka realized that she didn’t know what to do. She was alone, in the forest that she had destroyed, on the verge of death and with no way out; she *couldn't* run anymore.

“Is—” Mavka choked on her words, and had to stop to cough more ashes out of her lungs. “Is anyone there?” Her voice was so hoarse and weak that it was barely recognizable, even to herself.

“***Not yet,***” The goddess's voice returned in her head, and Mavka nearly jumped out of her skin.

“***Not anymore. This is your chance**.*”

*My chance to what?* Mavka barely had time to wonder before there was another flash of green light.

Mavka reappeared in the center of the standing stones, slumped over, barely holding herself in a sitting position. When she appeared, so did a puff of ashes that scattered in every direction with the fading wind. She was covered head-to-toe in gray ash, although tears had tracked down her cheeks to reveal her pale skin.

The pain was stronger, now, and it was all Mavka could do to stay conscious. Through her blurred vision, she saw the mildly surprised faces of the Elders above her.

They were saying something about her doppelganger—Mavka had all but forgotten the woman existed—and an orb of some ancient monster. Mavka vaguely registered that they said she would be unable to return to Isaldul without it.

They clearly hadn't expected her to come back. Based on the looks on their faces, they wouldn't have cared if she didn't.

Mavka felt a flash of red-hot anger at the realization, but she flinched away as they tossed her staff to the ground before her. It clattered on the stone, and she tried to pull herself away from the embers that sparked up from it.

Mirgilden, the staff that she had spent nearly five years meticulously tending to, shaping, growing with her own hands, was dead, half-charred. Angry orange firelight glowed from deep within its cracks. The amethyst stone at the top was no longer purple, but orange, also glowing with firelight. The occasional green leaf along the staff had been burned into nothing but cinders. Its searing pain matched her own.

Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp it. The moment she touched it, she stiffened, racked by a sudden stab of excruciating pain. She was burning alive all over again, but she couldn’t feel the presence of the forest in the fire this time.

In fact, she couldn’t feel the forest at all.

That was what had been missing.

Her connection to the forest—the force of life that she’d been connected to since her birth—was completely severed, burned up along with the Davelwyn Woods.

Gasping for breath under the sudden disorientation, Mavka barely registered that she was being lifted onto a gurney by a team of medics. She was writhing in pain, air wheezing out of her lungs as she coughed up more ash.

She had survived. She wasn't burning again. She had chosen to change—was this the change that the Goddess required of her? Mavka longed distantly to see the comforting faces of her friends and family. She hadn’t wanted them there before, when she had assumed she would die, but she ached for them now.

No friends, no family, not even the forest deigned to accompany her.

Mavka was alone.

There was another stab of searing pain, and the world went black.

### **A Different Life**

When Mavka came to consciousness, all she could remember was fire.

She was completely disoriented, having no idea where she was, and was rendered unable to reconcile her physical body with the pain it felt. She felt formless, infinite and nonexistent all at once. The only constant was the burning: her burning forehead, burning forests, burning throat, burning skies, burning muscles, burning worlds.

Her eyelids were so heavy that she could barely bring herself to open them to free the flames that pulsed beneath them. Doing so was a feat of strength that would remain unparalleled throughout the rest of time, with Mavka as its only witness.

There was no fire when Mavka opened her eyes. There was plain, stretched cloth in front of her, in addition to some hides and furs. A few slivers of blinding daylight crept into the tent underneath the staked fabric. Mavka recognized it as a medical tent, the kind she herself had trained in, and realized she was probably somewhere near Springvale. She was still in Isaldul. She hadn’t expected that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karaa, sitting in a chair beside the bed. Mavka hadn’t expected that, either.

"Oh my Goddesses, Mavka, you're awake!" Karaa practically tripped over herself as she shot to her feet, having seen Mavka’s eyes flutter open.

"Mm-hm," Mavka responded faintly. The sudden noise had triggered a pounding pain in her head, and her throat was so dry she felt like she would crack.

"Could I have some water? Or maybe some willow bark tea?" Mavka rasped. Her voice sounded like it was miles away. She barely recognized it.

While Karaa began bustling about to fetch water and make tea, Mavka closed her eyes to keep her head from spinning. The dull throbbing in her temples was growing steadily, and she had to force herself to relax and breathe deeply through the pain that would otherwise consume her.

Karaa gently helped her sit up to drink, and Mavka lifted the wooden cup to her lips with unsteady hands.

The tea was too warm. Hot, even. It brought back visions of flames and smoke, and the way she had been unable to speak because of the way her mouth had melted. After choking down one mouthful, Mavka set the cup on the nightstand next to her and instead took slow sips from the cup of cool water that Karaa had offered her instead.

“Thanks, Karaa,” Mavka said wearily. All she wanted to do was sink back into the cot and sleep for another week, but the memory of a task given to her by the Elders compelled her. If she was to change as the Goddess directed, she needed to go.

Mavka blearily moved to sit up, this time trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed so she could stand.

“No!” Karaa yelped, and Mavka suddenly felt hands on her shoulders that practically slammed her back down onto the cot. “You need to rest!”

Startled, Mavka didn’t resist, letting Karaa push her back onto the cot. Her headache was much worse now, even despite the willow-bark tea.

“Okay, okay,” Mavka relented, raising a hand to massage her temples. “Is… anyone else here, though?” She asked with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“They— they haven’t seen you yet,” Karaa said hesitantly. “You still look great, by the way,” she gushed. “I mean, you don’t look bad. You look... fine.” Karaa was blushing profusely. It made Mavka blush, too.

Wait, what the hells was she talking about?

Mavka’s brain felt fuzzy, but something else was off. The rest of her felt… ah. Right. Incomplete.

She had hoped that part hadn’t been real.

When Mavka threw off the blankets, she had to take more than a moment to stare. Fitted over her left thigh, there was a new limb, made of twisting, gnarled, wooden sinews. The prosthetic limb had clearly been handcrafted right here in Isaldul.

That was nice. It would be like a piece of home to help keep her going.

Mavka slowly pulled the blankets back over herself.

“I can let the others know that you’re awake, if you want,” Karaa offered.

Mavka just nodded numbly.

Karaa re-entered a moment later, followed by Caeli, Gossamer, and Helio.

The tent felt too crowded. Mavka was uncomfortable and slightly overwhelmed with all the attention. There was an awkward pause as nobody knew quite what to say.

Finally, Gossamer broke the silence. “Mavka, what happened?”

“I, uh,” Mavka stuttered, her brain still half-comatose, “I sort of met Tyr. I don’t know how much of it was… real…” her gaze shifted to her leg.

“There was... there was fire,” she added, trying not to flinch at the memory.

No-one spoke. Would they leave her behind, now that she wouldn’t be able to keep up? She waited in anxious silence for someone to break the news.

No-one did.

Maybe they were waiting for her to get back on her feet.

“I’m supposed to leave Isaldul,” Mavka said, still staring at her leg as she tried to fill the silence. “We should probably pick up some supplies, and then leave as soon as we can.” *If they even* want *me to leave with them*.

“Are you sure, Mavka?” Karaa asked gently. “You were out for two days— if you need—”

“Two days?” Mavka gasped as her heart skipped a beat.

Her doppelganger could be anywhere by now, and the longer she waited, the less likely it was that they could find her. She needed to leave as soon as possible, but she wasn’t going anywhere with this unwieldy hunk of wood strapped to her thigh.

“Can— can you guys go into town to pick up supplies? I, uh, don’t think I can right now,” Mavka’s face turned red with embarrassment as she gestured to her prosthetic leg. There was also the issue that her face wouldn’t exactly be welcome anywhere in Isaldul now.

“I think we can do that,” Helio nodded.

“Thanks,” Mavka said, relieved. “It’s a little different than other places we’ve been—you should take someone with you who knows how the bartering here works. Maybe stop by Appledore first, to make some deliveries.”

Mavka rifled through her bag, which was sitting beside her bed, until she found her journal. She scribbled a brief list of items onto a piece of paper torn from it, then handed it to Helio.

“If you could order these things for me, I’d really appreciate it.”

Helio nodded, folding the paper and putting it in one of his pockets.

“There’s a library in Vandorythe, too,” Mavka said. “If you want to, while you’re out, you could see if there’s anything about beetroot, or the..." Mavka strained to remember what the Elders had said when she had returned. "Whatever orb it was... that the doppelganger stole.”

That was probably the weirdest thing she’d ever said. Or was it? The past few weeks had been entirely out of the ordinary, and it didn’t look like that was going to stop any time soon.

“Oh! I’ve actually been meaning to visit a library,” Gossamer enthused.

“I’ll go with you!” Caeli chirped.

Just as Gossamer was about to respond, Silas ducked into the tent.

Mavka avoided her father’s eyes, but Gossamer was stunned into staring.

“You have golden eyes,” she said, aghast. “Are you by chance related to the Lunalas, from the Volk clan?”

Silas just shrugged. “Elves live a long time. We’re probably cousins.”

Mavka nearly had whiplash. *Cousins*? Her father *never* talked about his family, but he said this with no hesitation whatsoever. She wanted to ask dozens of questions, but didn’t know where to start. Besides, everyone had other business to attend to.

With that, the group filtered out, and the sound of Gossamer talking to Silas about her family history faded. This left Mavka and Karaa alone in the tent again.

Despite Karaa’s protests, Mavka sat up once more and slid her legs over the edge of the bed. The prosthetic leg felt… different. She could control the joints, somehow, which she assumed was due to magic, but it felt foreign, like it didn’t know how to walk on its own. She could still feel her leg burning, but when she touched the prosthetic, she felt nothing.

She’d have to learn how to manage the pain, and learn to walk all over again.

“I need to get up,” Mavka pleaded, Karaa’s protests falling on deaf ears. “The sooner I can get back on my feet, the sooner I can find the relic that doppelganger stole.”

Karaa, seeing that Mavka would not be dissuaded, relented with a quiet, defeated sigh, and helped Mavka stand. With one arm around Mavka’s waist and the other steadying her shoulder, she helped Mavka limp to the exit.

Mavka had to raise a hand to cover her eyes as Karaa pulled back the tent flap and helped her step outside. After being inside and unconscious for two days straight, the sunlight was blinding.

Luckily the willow-bark tea that Karaa had given her was starting to take effect, otherwise the pain in her head would have been unbearable. Even so, now that she was moving, every one of her muscles burned, and her limbs were shaky.

Mavka couldn’t recall feeling this unsteady in all her years before she started adventuring. She didn’t know what she’d do if Karaa hadn’t been here.

They spent the rest of the daylight hours meandering through the fields of wildflowers as Mavka worked on figuring out how to maneuver the prosthetic limb.

After pushing herself a little too hard for her first day being up, Mavka finally agreed to stop for the night. She and Karaa decided to unwind in the nearby hot springs, and were eventually joined by the rest of the Amber Order. They briefly discussed the events of the day before gathering Mavka’s belongings to return to the Appledores, where they would spend the night before heading out in the morning.

The trek was long, but she made it. Helio had only had to carry her twice, after she'd tripped.

The familiar berry-bushes lining the path to her family’s home didn’t seem to have the same vivacity as before— then again, maybe Mavka just couldn’t sense it. She couldn’t sense anything in the forest anymore. She felt blind, but she was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to let it consume her.

Before she knew it, they had reached the home that was so familiar. Built into one of the many towering redwoods was the main farmhouse of the Appledores, the place where Mavka had grown up.

It looked… different. Less luminous and lively. Maybe a little grayer than she remembered.

Mavka excused herself from the group and retired to her room early, before anyone could stop her. By some miracle of grace, she was able to avoid the rest of her family.

She didn’t rest well that night. The house didn't feel quite like home.

### **The New Lie**

Mavka rose before everyone else did the next morning. She had been awake for hours before she gave up on sleeping, and took the opportunity to slip away into the forest, alone. Mavka tried to meditate her way back into regaining her connection with the forest. She found no success.

When she attempted to cast Druidcraft, instead of blooming with new growth, the fern she cradled disintegrated into ashes in the palm of her hand.

The faint firelight glowing from her staff in the cold morning light seemed to taunt her.

As the sun began to rise, Mavka made her way back to the farmhouse. The smell of fresh-baked goods wafted from an open window, and Mavka suddenly realized she was starving.

Inside, Gossamer had made breakfast for everybody. Mavka grabbed a plate, thanked her, and sat down by Karaa, eating in anxious silence. After a while, Helio and Caeli came back in, as well.

The group decided they would collect their supplies before leaving. Caeli and Karaa went into Vandorythe to collect the supplies that Helio and Faen had ordered the day before, while Gossamer tried to copy as much of her Elvish to Abyssal translation guide that she could. Helio was going to talk to Faen to see if he could get the group some horses.

That left Mavka alone at the house with her family.

She wasn’t sure where she’d rather be—in a familiar city full of accusing eyes, or a familiar house full of disappointed silence. She compromised, and quietly slipped out to wander around the grounds of the home for a while, keeping her thoughts to herself.

Mavka had to face it. Even if she could find the orb, as the Elders had tasked her—and Mavka wasn’t certain that she could—she would never *really* be able to return home. It would always be different, and so would she. She could never undo what she’d done, however much she wanted to.

Maybe returning the orb would help her and her family save face, but that wouldn’t change people’s minds about her. That wouldn’t make the old farmhouse feel like home again, and it wouldn't make her feel like she belonged again.

Last night, Helio had said that the orb was some kind of relic from an abeloth’s lair, something that was supposed to have incredible powers that were capable of altering reality. If Mavka's doppelganger had stolen it, who knew what kind of damage she could do with it.

Mavka made up her mind. She would find the orb, if she could, and she deliver the orb to Isaldul—but Mavka would not return home with it. Not permanently, at least.

Besides, the work she and her friends were doing was dangerous. Mavka didn’t want her family or her friends caught in the crossfire. Distancing herself would be best for everyone’s safety.

Movement at the edge of her vision roused Mavka from her thoughts.

Tasa was walking down one of the nearby paths. She was humming something under her breath, and seemed to be in the middle of her chores.

Mavka hesitated to call out to her, but her heart ached as she watched her little sister. Maybe it would be best for her to leave quietly, so that Tasa could remember her as she had been, not as she now was. Maybe it would be better for everyone that way, so that she wouldn’t have to say goodbye—and so that they wouldn’t realize she was leaving for longer than she had let on.

Too late— Tasa had seen her.

“Mavka!” Tasa shouted, waving.

Mavka timidly waved back as Tasa sprinted over, and Mavka braced herself.

Tasa practically tackled her in a bear hug. Mavka was shocked for just a moment, then relaxed and hugged her little sister.

“Hi, Tasa,” Mavka said, sounding tired but relieved. “How have you been?”

“Better than you, by the looks of it,” Tasa replied, laughing.

“Well, that’s good,” Mavka said, and she found herself almost laughing too. Tasa’s laughter had always been contagious. Mavka had missed it. She would continue to miss it.

“Listen, Tasa, I’m supposed to meet my friends to leave soon, but I have a favor to ask, first,” Mavka admitted.

Tasa tilted her head, waiting expectantly.

“I can’t take Ara and Takal with me again,” Mavka said. “When I left, I brought them because I thought I’d be helping farmers plow their fields and scare off pests, not— well, you know. The point is, they’ll be safer here with you than they ever would be with me.”

“Sure! Well, under one condition,” Tasa amended. “You *have* to write to me more often.”

Mavka tried to mask the sadness in her smile. “You’ve got a deal.”

As she and Tasa walked back to the farmhouse where her elk, Ara had been stabled, Mavka whistled for Takal. She didn’t want to abandon them without explanation.

She was able to prepare the spell that let her speak with animals—so she did still have some magic—and cast it as a ritual to expend less of the little magical energy she had left.

Tasa stayed with her during their exchange.

The boys took it fairly well, even if they were a bit disappointed. Mavka had just finished saying her goodbyes to the two of them when her friends started arriving, having completed their errands.

As Mavka stood to join them, there was a huge explosion at the top of one of the nearby mountains. The valley shook as a plume of smoke began to emanate from the blast point.

Fear sparked in Mavka’s mind as her heart pounded. A thousand worst-case scenarios ran through her mind: long-dead deities come back to life, apocalypse-level natural disasters, erratic warfare sparked by a god of lies.

Isaldul wasn’t her home anymore, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still love it.

Fury rose in Mavka’s throat, and she didn’t know where to channel it. All she knew was that she was finally ready to fight. Whatever threatened her family and her childhood home, she would have destroyed it then and there if she could.

She spotted Helio and Faen guiding several spooked horses toward the house, and moved to run to them, but she was stopped by two weights: one on her leg and one in her heart.

Mavka whipped back around to look at Tasa. “I— I’ll be back, eventually,” she called frantically. “I promise!”

Her heart threatened to break with the lie, but surely saying goodbye would have been worse.

However, when Tasa pulled her into another embrace, Mavka’s heart shattered right there in the forest.

She felt pieces of it left behind in the soft earth, under giant trees, even as she leapt up onto her steed and began galloping away at a breakneck speed toward the mountains.

Mavka wiped silent tears from her eyes as she rode—if anyone asked, they were because of the wind.

A new fire burned in her eyes as she rode alongside her friends.

Still, there was one little tug in the back of her mind as she left pieces of herself scattered on the forest floor behind her: *Are you running towards something, now? Or are you still running away?*