Chapter VII - Healing Pains

[TennyoCeres84]

Alastriona grimaced slightly. "I'm aware of who Old Jack is and how much he's suffered over the years, but not to the extent you're talking about. I really hope it doesn't come down to killing him..." she said, resisting her predecessor's memories from welling up to the forefront. Her eyes briefly glistened, but she quickly blinked them back under control.

"Obviously not now, but it'd be worth talking to Nereus about how I might approach him. After all, the whole reason Samoset's curse exists is because of the Chamberlain's machinations."

She ventured closer to the created patch and watched as the glowing tendrils crept toward Quigley. "MacHae's challenge is the main reason for my wanting to hurry my connection to Sophia's root system, but there's others."

"Tom's arcane signature is notably different from when Sophia made his warlock's staff. People change, but not that much that quickly. It feels negatively tainted, somehow. I also worry about Hector Gutierrez's mundane drug cartel influencing the city on a magical level. For example, what if it makes the situation with Old Jack worse? Much of this is speculation, but I have to be as ready as I can be."

The dryad continued to observe him and tilted her head. "You mentioned that this was going to be the reverse of how you connected with your version of Sophia, so how does that work?" she asked.

***

Neasa nodded in response to Aatxe's confirmation that he was joining them.

Once Cuthbert revealed Apophis' plans, she smiled and briefly wondered if such a form would be bipedal like George Gammell or something more specific to the Animate. "I hope that it goes well for you, as you deserve to have a body that doesn't bring you pain or physical complications."

A thought occurred to her as she finished her food, and the roane then inquired, "I assume you don't mind us telling Meris and Nereus about you and how you helped us, right? I think they ought to know they have another ally on their side. Obviously, we'll wait until we can talk about it in private."

***

Samigina's words both made her further concerned but also calmed. Even with Vassago's ability to take note of many potentials at once, they still had to deal with the one that was actually going to take place. Whatever that incident would be, they would have to cross that bridge once they came to it.

The captain would get the feeling of acceptance to his advice. "You're right, Sam. Whatever's going to happen will be handled at it happens. In the meantime, I'll cherish this moment in time with Nereus. We deserve to at least have that, after everything that has transpired for us. Thank you for your counsel, and enjoy yourself until we'll need your aid."

As a gesture of this mentality, the Archmage affectionately gripped one of Nereus' hands and squeezed gently.

[IamLEAM1983]

For a while longer, the assembly roiled about in the immense space, groups forming and unforming without much to be concerned about, safe perhaps for how this stood as an occasion for Li Si's vampires to display their craft. The same begrudgingly-modernized men and women you saw keeping to the sidelines grew slightly more bold as time passed, touching an elbow here or a scapula there, and every instance came with a gleam of understanding in their eyes. Little by little, they mingled in with the rest of the Fae, supernaturals and dragons in humanoid form, going from illiterate foreigners to graceful conversationalists in the span of a few minutes. The woman Carrie and Aidan had spotted had previously stuck to her own people, but once Nereus had placed his eyes on her, she'd already gone to speaking Irish Gaelic with a native's ease, plastering a bemused and pleased smile on the middle-aged Fae aristocrat she was discussing with.

"The real danger with our new friends isn't really that they could drain us dry," noted the former Augur, "but that they could render everyone in this room virtually obsolete in a few hours. If you're one of them and you enter a hospital, you start out not being able to tie your shoes on your own and leave it knowing exactly how to perform an angioplasty and which statins to watch for in patients with a history of heart failure... Give them an Archmage or a former Augur to play patty-cake with, and..."

He didn't finish his thought. The massive stained-glass doors that shrouded one of Yggdrasil's greater branches slightly opened, letting the visible spectrum of via spill through for a few moments. Four figures were backlit against it and soon came into view. Titania and Oberon were difficult to miss in their swapped tones of arboreal green, autumnal gold and wintry blues and whites, but the other two figures were newcomers. One of them was a dryad as you might've seen elsewhere, with a notably matronly figure. A Tudor dress clung to her, complimenting her wide hips, her skin like polished wood showing middle-aged wrinkles, her gold-green eyes twinkling in the light. Her hair was a careful braid of vines and hair, her Faun-like nose giving her a particularly noble profile.

The fourth figure looked like an armor-clad knight, if you'd carved the knight out of living wood. His beard was a stream of moss and his plate mail stretches of bark over radicella, his long cape a weave of living ivy. Ponderously, he drew a longsword from a scabbard at his back and rested it against the floor, crackles of energy snaking outwards upon contact. That seemed to serve as a signal of sorts, as the assembly turned to face the group.

The knight spoke, his voice filling the Great Hall's space effortlessly. He didn't need to scream or shout, but still commanded absolute authority.

"On this day, we are gathered here in the Elder Tree's shade in an act of rememberance, and to renew our vows. We are gathered here to forge new ties and to..."

He paused, meeting Herbert's gaze in the crowd. "...recognize those whose Lordships and Principalities ultimately served to safeguard us. I am Hengist of Avalon, Knight Protector to Lady Scatha of the Elder Tree. I am the Green Knight, Yggdrasil's Sword and Shield. I offer you what has been offered to the Tuatha since time immemorial. Safety, cordiality and honor. Let my vow remain unbroken."

The older dryad then stepped forward. "I am Lady Scatha, and have watched over the British Isles and Yggdrasil's eldest spawn since before Men knew to wield bronze tools. I am sister-in-bond with London's own dryad, and my root network extends far past these islands. The Elder Tree knows you all, senses you all - and so do I. I offer you peace, friendship and wisdom. Let my vow remain unbroken."

Titania then stepped forward. "I am Titania, Queen of Summer. My Mantle reaches from the days of our liberation and ascension to this very day, over millions of years of human history. My word is Law and Power for all those in Summer's golden rays. I offer you respite, release from your travels, and a table and hearth to call your own. Let my vow remain unbroken."

Oberon followed. "I am Oberon, King of All Winters. My Mantle stems from the hardships of our first days under dragon rule and extends its glad hand to you, over seas of time. My word is Law and Power for all those in the Hearth's warm embrace - and a bane to those who would follow the Mistresses of the Wilds, Mab and Morgana."

He smirked. "It may come as a surprise to some of you to hear my accent. I am indeed American by birth. Tradition, obviously, demands that all those who bear the Mantle of Oberon challenge Tradition itself - in as playful a means as possible. I offer you joy, my friends - the very joy at the heart of my Hearth's blazing fire. My gifts might only manifest as the day ends - but mark my words: by the end of it, you shall drink and be merry, one and all."

His smirk then darkened. "Unless you are one of those who would despoil the sanctity of this moment for our newest charges and our youngest of gifts. Then, and I offer this as cordially as possible - you shall find me to be... glacial. Seek not my ire and you shall not receive it. It's as plain as day."

The murmur of several translators nestled in the throng came to a stop. Titania then stepped forward.

"We have convened over the past several days and have concluded that while all of the mortal realm's cities have known their heroes, there is one fiefdom in particular where Destiny has been inflected for us all."

She found Eirean in the crowd, and smiled. "Lady McHale, it is my understanding that your Knights have fought against the Black Goat in direct engagements and that your closest allies now count Thrones of Heaven in their number."

Eirean smiled back, an enchantment carrying her voice for others to hear. "It is as you say, My Queen. None of us in Hope could have survived without my Knights, without Lord Haskill's dilligence, and without our allies, far and wide. Many of those who fought with us are here today. Some, I feel, warrant special commendations."

Titania nodded. "And which ones among them have not received your grace yet?
- There are several. Feel my Mantle, O Queen, and call out their names."

Titania nodded once more, this time withdrawing her gaze for a moment. When she spoke again, there was power in her words, reaching out to those mentioned and carrying with it a sense of recognition unlike anything they would've felt before. "I call out your names: Marius Vlastos, Marianna Jameson, Carrie Silva, Aatxe of the Black Wastes, Silas Robertson, Aspasia Robertson, Zebediah Buck, Eliphas Buck, all of Heaven's Thrones and the Seat of its Angels, the Kami-domo of Fae's Japanese provinces and all its representatives in Eien-no-Yuki, Meris of the Orcades, Heiress of Solomon and all of her Court, Jubal Whitney and his wiley Gentlemen; Horatio Grimley, Priest of Selene..."

She paused. "If you were not named, consider yourself blessed as well as those peers of yours, near or far, of whom I have spoken the Name. Unnamed are the Lady's Knights, for their blessings are already known. I know you, see you - and thank you."

Oberon stepped forward as well. "I would extend my own gratitude to those who have suffered most in the past months: the turncoat Void Weavers who now walk in the Light and the demons who sought to honor their forbears and stand before us as spirits of Wisdom, as opposed to tormenting horrors from beyond our plane. I See and Name all of the men of the Burning Legion, as honored as they were by Lucian Rothchild, and turn my gaze, especially, toward Nereus of Dalarath."

He extended a hand. "Please, my Lord Augur. Step forward."

Looking bemused, Nereus muttered apologies to Meris and did as asked of him, Oberon keeping his outstretched hand until Nereus was just a step away. "As per the Old Ways, I offer you respite and claim you as my own, as long as you stand in these halls of mine."

Realizing Nereus was confused, Oberon gave the assembly an amused look. "He's confused, nobody thought to tell him that the Celtic chieftains of old symbolically adopted their own allies as sons or brothers."

Polite laughter shook the room, and Oberon looked down on Nereus. "It's alright, I'm not about to lay claim on what's left of your charge, mister Marinos. All this means is that you and yours are mine to protect. Rest your forehead on my chest for a second, and we'll call it a day."

Nereus cleared his throat. "I am, er... honored to have you as a brother, my King. Those of us who turned away from the dark are now in your hands."

Oberon spent a few seconds stroking the back of Nereus' head. "I'll take care of them as if they were my own, Nereus. Better me than Mab or the Fomor, trust me."

Nereus seemed a bit surprised. "You're acting as though stating you'd protect us were enough..."

Oberon smirk. "Our Word is our Bond, Augur. If one of the Sidhe makes a promise, the Old Ways and the New alike will bend the entire world to see it to fruition. How else do you think Lord Haskill managed to cover Hope's battlefields in blizzards in the middle of August?"

The Squid smiled sheepishly. "I'm no Augur, either. Not anymore. I've been removed from Dalarath from a long time - first in spirit, then in intent."

The Winter King chuckled as if this were a mildly funny joke. "No, Mister Marinos. You're still an Augur - only now your portents are luminous and filled with hope and gladness."

By the way Nereus looked, Oberon might as well have gut-punched him with an inconvenient, if entirely correct truth that stripped away all of his personal justifications for seeing himself as flawed. Returning to Meris, Nereus looked equally dazed, on the verge of tears and happier than ever before.

As he sat back down next to Meris, all Nereus could murmur was "He's seen me, Meris. He's seen me better than I see myself..."

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris was about to respond to his speculation about the jiangshi, but that was halted by the partial opening of the double doors and the emergence of Hengist, Scatha, Titania, and Oberon into the Great Hall.

She had already met with the Queen and King, but the Elder Tree's dryad and the Green Knight were definite firsts. She could see a bit of similarity to Sophia and Alastriona's noses in the noble air it gave her. As for the Green Knight, she obviously knew of him from legends, but didn't realize they would meet him as well today.

After their introductions and declarations, the Archmage was surprised to see Nereus called forth to accept Oberon's show of protection and support for the Augur. Hearing the Winter King's words, her heart swelled with pride and happiness for her husband. All of the monarch's observations about the Voidweaver were true, even though the latter didn't realize that about himself.

Once he was seated, the selkie smiled gently and placed a hand over his. "He saw what I've seen in you at different times in your life. Now that you're free of Chambers, you will be able express those qualities in the light. Your love of architecture, your compassion, your zeal for life, and your optimism. Those things aren't in the shadows any longer. They're visible for those who are willing to see your true self and who share your interests."

[IamLEAM1983]

Polite applause followed, with Hengist raising his hand.

"We are gathered here today to renew Faerie's bonds with the mortal plane, and most of your socializing would suffice as a show of commitment. However, we are called to celebrate the dawning of a new era.

Amongst you are men and women - all seemingly mortal - who welcomed today's auspicious opportunity to Choose among their own peers. In the face of our loss, Lady Scatha and I have agreed: Changelings of this new world must be bound not simply by Oath or choice, but by magic as well, so that our bonds may be strenghtened."

The stained-glass doors behind the quartet opened fully, exposing a massive garden pavilion, lush with selected flora - and housing the largest tree to ever harbor a Nexus in Earth and Faerie alike. The arcane radiation was strong enough for Silas, Zeb and a few other lichs' bones in the crowd to glow with a faint blue light. Coach's eyelights momentarily winked out as he took in a deep breath, his glow briefly intensifying. For a moment, he didn't need a strong emotional affect for werelight to sketch out his old human features, and lifted a hand to inspect his lambent bones, light sketching out the contours of fingernails he hadn't seen in lifetimes.

"Changelings - please step forward."

A smattering of younger men and women did as indicated, leaving the throng of guests to briefly stand in the front row. Scatha and Hengist stepped slightly apart, inviting the young ones to form a line as they passed between them. It didn't take long for the basin's waters to be heard quietly sloshing, and for luxuiating sighs to be heard as via suffused the Changelings, turning them into Sidhe of full lineage. As they walked out of the basin and stepped forward again, mostly unchanged if not for a few aesthetic details in their facial proportions or the presence or absence of pointed pinna, more measured applause followed. The aspirants, for the most part, were overcome with emotion and smiled or wept openly, returning to loved ones to hug them fiercely, or kiss them with abandon. Scatha watched this unfold with an approving smile, and then turned to Titania, who nodded.

"London - Caer Lundein - and all of Faerie - we give you new blood!"

The applause that followed was a bit stronger, but something was still waiting to outclass even this event. Oberon then stepped forward.

"Milords and ladies; you know me. You know my charge. I take the elderly, the sick, the infirm, the truly wretched - and offer to them the Hearth's fire. There is one of you, tonight, who is worthy of such an honor."

Along the side of the hall, a massive fireplace sprung to life with a single whoosh of rushing flame. Its heat was stronger than anything any mere fireplace could've produced, but Meris and the others would observe as the Fae - or namely those allied with Oberon and Titania - seemed to be drawn to it. The closer to the Hearth they stepped, the more their eyes gleamed and the more their smiles widened. To Nereus, it almost looked like the Mad Arts' incipient madness, but it didn't spring out of despair, unlike what he was used to. This fire, the parent of Eien-No-Yuki's own braziers and cooking fires, was cheer in its purest form, and its strength was such that even Nereus, who didn't feel particularly drawn to it, still felt the urge to let his eyelids droop, the way you would after spending a while next to a cozy fireplace.

"Azazel," asked Oberon. "Step forward."

Looking as unsure as ever, the scarred former Scapegoat limped forward, rubbing his wrists that still bore the scars of his old manacles. "I don't mean to be impolite, but I've had my fill of fire."

Oberon smiled tightly and nodded. "I know, boy. All I'll ask you to do is to stand next to the Hearth. The Tree is going to be of more help to you, if I'm honest. However, Hell's made you brittle. We need you soft, again. Pliable. Not to manipulate you, but to allow you to grow. As you aren't just a demon, Azazel. You've fought with Blue Chimeras before, haven't you?"

Azazel briefly looked for Aspasia in the crowd, then nodded. Oberon seemed appreciative. "The man who calls himself their Father never earned that right. From a purely genetic point of view, Azazel; you are the closest thing to Aspasia's natural progenitor. Before standing before me as a demon, you actually stand before me as the last of the Wyldfae's Fauns. There are... fragments of you inside her, inside of every modern Faun. It's Titania and I's hope that the globe's oldest Nexus could help you; restore your bonds to the World's Breath. Maybe, in turn, once you're made whole, you'll be able to contribute something for her kind."

Azazel nodded hesitantly. "What do I need to do?"

Oberon parted an arm. "Just come and stand next to me for a few moments - right by the fire.
- What can I expect?"

The Winter King smiled. "Warmth. Warmth like love. Like life itself. Like a filled belly, like the joyous pain of having laughed or shouted yourself hoarse during a party. You might feel yourself going mad, but I'm not going to let the Hearth take you all to itself. You're not destined to become another Krampus. You're to be given joy - tempered with all our wisdom."

The demon hesitated. "Will the pain go away?"

Titania smiled. "With the warmth of the Hearth and the Tree's spring, Hell's purchase over you should be loosened. You'll be rid of them, Azazel. Finally."

That seemed to be enough to draw tears from the Faun, who nodded, stepped forward - and ignored Oberon's arms, to willingly step past the mantle and into the burning pyre. Where you could've expected screaming to follow, there came a shout of sudden surprise that changed to a shy chuckle, a slightly bolder laugh - and as the flames engulfed him, Azazel laughed openly and with jolly abandonment, the language of his years spent with the last Fauns rising out of him unbidden.

"Brothers, sisters - I see you! Those who cursed us were wrong, I can feel you! You were received in the Maker's arms! You were blessed! The Goat took us in, twisted us - and it was all for naught! You are dancing in Mother Earth's fields!"

Azazel, how a blazing human-shaped torch, stepped out of the Hearth. Where anyone else would've been screaming, he merely laughed and bounded around the space immediately in front of the fireplace. If this fire had been natural, his flesh would've been practically melted away, by now. Instead, the reverse seemed to happen, as his flesh glistened like wax - only to heal as the flames licked it. His fur turned denser, each hair a lit wick, and his dried-out horns fell off of his head. Like in a time-lapse video, the fuzzy capsules of new horn buds emerged from his skull, rapidly turning into new, lighter and longer horns than before. Chuckling, Oberon took the blazing faun's hand.

"Focus, Azazel. You're almost done. The iron of your flesh needs to be tempered, now."

It took a few seconds, but mindless glee left the former demon's face by degrees, and he eventually nodded. Still blazing, his flames not catching on anyone or anything else, he stepped towards Titania, Hengist and Scatha. The dryad and Summer Queen nodded, smiled, took his hands and guided him down into the Tree's basin, his fire winking out as smoke engulfed him and the air was filled with the hiss of cooling material. Still, he didn't scream, and only sighed as the Changelings had done. By the time he sank completely down into the basin, the Tree's alcove was filled with smoke and smelled faintly of something strange: instead of burning flesh, the event had produced a single and strong note of Brimstone that had fallen away almost immediately, almost giving way to something like the scent of burning sweetgrass.

Three couldn't quite keep himself. "Will he be alright?" he asked.

Scatha nodded. "Patience, friends. The Tree has to undo millennia of abuse, chip away at Evil as old as History itself. The Hearth made it brittle, now the World's Breath has to seep through the cracks, as it were - slough off old skin to make way for the new."