Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first thing she felt was warmth.

Not that she understood it at first.

A hesitant, phantom feeling. An echo, like hearing someone call out your name only to turn around and find you are alone. A lone note of normalcy, lost to the turbulent waters of a half sunken dream. A cacophony of sounds and smells, sights dissolving into blurry colors. Her life played back in seconds, from beginning to end and then in reverse, again and again. Conversations, fear, affection, pain. Noise .

But through it all, the warmth persisted. Solid, more real than anything else.

Stel reached out for it, nonexistent fingers grasping onto a link to the real world, dragging herself upwards. Unconsciousness clawed and howled, urging her to let go and drift back to the depths, but she resisted. Something outside called her, something more than the desire for wakefulness, a force that thrummed in her bones yet caressed her skin. A breeze that rustled through her fur, slipping into her ears.

In the wind lied a whisper.

Wake.

Stel opened her eyes to a rippling canopy of leaves. A hypnotizing motion, back and forth, up and down, glimpses of the blue sky peeking in whenever a gap presented itself. Natural light mingled with divine radiance, the light of her parent’s crown timidly contrasting against the leaves and blending in with the clouds. Her eyes focused on a branch and followed it as it led them into another, then that one to its originator, and finally this one to the trunk, going down until her eyes could go no further without moving her head.

She did, looking left. About fifty feet away lay the base of the Cedar, colossal and imposing. From there to her position she could see dozens of spirits spread around the field, curled up in mats of wood and straw, being tended to by other spirits, moki, gorleks and other forest denizens. Her ears turned on instinct, trying to understand their words, but distance muffled them and whatever was left, the wind whisked away.

The familiarity weighed. If she’d woken at sunset, it would have stung .

Something about seeing her siblings brought back her sense of self. Lying on her back, some sort of fabric separating her from the grass. Pain riddled her every muscle from head to toe, a dull ache that she knew will triple in intensity if she dared to provoke it, backed by the most complete exhaustion she’d ever felt in her life. An exhaustion so complete that even describing it felt like a waste of precious time she should be using to try to fall back asleep. Her dry nose itched, her cracked and sensitive hooves stung, the fingers of her left hand tingled. Something large and strangely heavy laid across her stomach, like a large bent tree limb.

She couldn’t feel her right arm. 

She couldn’t feel it. She could tell everything else remained in place, even the parts that were numb, but as soon as her self evaluation got to her shoulder it’s like whatever was connected to it simply didn’t exist. If all her other limbs were like weird misshapen scribbles on pieces of paper, her arm felt like there wasn’t any paper at all. Nothing. Gone .

Memories rushed back. Tears welled up in her eyes. The unrelenting weight pressing down on her stomach was suddenly agonizing to bear, some kind of bent, heavy branch, and her other hand came up to desperately scratch and shove at it. Losing the fight against a rising tide of panic, trying to find purchase on the rough surface so she could throw it off, sit up, force her head to turn sideways and witness what exactly was left of her-

Something thin but sturdy slipped between her hand and the weight, prying them apart. 

“Sorry,” a deep voice rumbled. “Can’t have you touching that.”

Stel somehow found the strength to crane her neck and look down. Aster squatted by her legs with a twig in his massive hand. All three of his eyes shone with concern, the stray sunlight reflecting off the gray hairs in his beard making him seem older and wiser than ever before. His visage alone brought her impending breakdown to a grinding halt, her mind unable to convince her to panic in his presence. She caught a glimpse of whatever lay on top of her belly as well. A speck of light reflected off a strangely shiny material, but she couldn’t properly study it from this angle.

“Ast-?” she tried, but choked and dropped her head back down. Her neck refused to raise it and let her speak at the same time. As Stel gasped for air, straining to contain painful spasms, she heard a few heavy footsteps thudding closer before the gorlek’s face appeared in her field of view. Framed by the wavering backdrop of the Cedar’s crown, Aster resembled an ancient guardian of the woods, here to welcome her back to the land of the living. 

Something twinged in the back of her head. The living. She’d survived her first brush with Decay. Maybe not completely whole, but she made it.

She was alive .

“Don’t move too much, little lady.” her companion drawled. “Might not feel like it, but it took Eir and her friends a while to make you resemble a spirit again. Will take them even longer to make you feel like one, unfortunately.”

That brought her back with a start. Her eyes went wide as she stared back at Aster. “That—” A cough cut her off. It felt like her ribs were pressing down on her lungs. “—that bad?” She didn’t expect to survive her gambit, and was relieved she got to wake up again, but the kind of damage his words implied was… concerning. Had the scorpion not swallowed the light burst after all? Had the blast—

Varia.

Her own well being forgotten, she jerked upright, ignoring the sharp flare of pain in her belly like it was being torn open. The thing on her stomach dug into her gut while something lifted her right shoulder. “ Is Varia alive!? Is she—”

Aster’s stick pressed against her chest, forcing her to lie down on the fabric again. Her feeble attempt to resist sent spasms of pain lancing through her abdomen, reducing her to a groaning, coughing mess for a few seconds. Her teary eyes managed to find his own, begging for an answer. He wasted no time in nodding. “She's alive. Rushed at you after the blast, had to be dragged away. They fixed up her ear and rib, then she slipped the net and ran right back to you.” He sighed. “Stayed by your side ever since. Hasn’t slept a minute since yesterday.”

Stel blinked at the exact same time her thoughts snagged on an important detail. “Her… rib?”

“Yeah. The one you cracked with a kick. Sent her far enough for a warrior to grab and pull her into cover before the giant bug went up in flames.” Aster glanced sideways at the field full of creatures and spirits. “She’s not around right now, got called in to sweep the plateau for any threats the Tree’s light might have missed, but last I heard, she’s itching to come back.”

Safe. Safe. Safe. A mantra, pulsing with her heartbeat, filling her with elation at the fact she’d succeeded . Vee was alright. Her light still shone. She got to see yesterday’s sunrise and she’ll be here for the sunset today, and Stel immediately promised herself she will heal in time to go watch it with her. She closed her eyes, choking back a sob of relief, the information feeling like a warm hug and a nice cup of tea all at once.  

Another thought jumped to the forefront, briefly re-stoking the fires of concern. “And the—” she swallowed. “The spirits in the ward? They were unconscious when I— when I last saw them. They didn’t have any light. Aster, have you seen them? Please, I don’t—”

They are here , the air hummed. In the Cradle. With you.

Stel almost sat up again, but managed to remain still and simply turn her head to the Cedar. An all-encompassing presence filled the empty space around her, settling over her like a parent sliding the covers over their child, the shadows around her darkening as if a massive entity bore down in worry for her well being.

She only had time to marvel at the Spirit Tree’s attention for a second before the words sunk in. She promptly scanned what little of the field she could see from her prone position, examining every spirit in sight, trying to identify the familiar frames of Lume and her coworkers. But they were too distant for her to see anything but superficial features. “They’re here? All… here?”

“Yup,” Aster nodded, apparently unbothered by the Cedar’s focus. “After the attack, everyone got dragged inside that ward and the doors sealed shut with magic until the Tree could purge the land. Felt like night turned to day for a few seconds, nothing left of the beasts but dust. After that, you all got moved here so the ambient light could help you recover faster.” 

He paused for a moment, then kneeled with a sigh to put his face closer to her own. Deep lines of age highlighted the sorrow in his expression. “You scared everyone stiff, Stel. If they’d gotten here later, you wouldn’t have made it. You were on life support for a little while.”

“But what about the rest?” she insisted. She was gonna be okay now, but what about the spirits whose light she had used? “I - I took their light . Are they awake?” 

Aster leaned back with an incredulous chuckle. One hand rose to rub at his many eyes. “Selfless little bugger, aren’t you…?”

Not awake. Not quite . The Cedar whispered again, a voice in the breeze. They are still ill. That kind of transfer is usually a delicate process, involving many trained spirits and a considerable amount of time. Neither of which you had. They will wake soon, but must remain under watch for a few hours more. 

Stel managed to nod. A modicum of guilt gnawed at her, but was suppressed by the fact her actions had saved everyone. They were alive, safe, and on the road to recovery. She achieved everything she had set out to accomplish with the light burst plan. Eir, Varia, Lume, Lien, Hue, the twins, everyone was alright. Everyone.

And Stel was left with no one else to worry about at the moment.

Which meant she had no choice but to turn her attention to herself.

“Aster?” Her voice was a small, hesitant whisper. “What happened to my arm?”

Another pause, heavy with meaning. Aster’s eyes flicked to her shoulder, then drifted down and to the left to land on whatever heavy object has been bothering her since she woke up. A sinking feeling started to creep in, a connection she’d refused to make.

Help her sit up, the Cedar said. She deserves to know.

The gorlek sighed, straightening up and circling until he stood directly behind her, before she felt the twig slip under her back and leverage her torso up. She was careful to not make any effort of her own, lest her body punish her again, instead focusing on not slipping off the thick branch and falling sideways, the strange balancing act finally forcing her to realize something was wrong with this situation. Aster hadn’t touched her once since she woke up. What did that mean?

She opened her mouth to ask, but her eyes happened to drift down to her lap.

All other thoughts fell silent.

Her own reflection stared back at her, reflected off a strange, brown cylindrical contraption slung right beneath her ribs. Her eyes drifted to a rune-encrusted metal sphere placed on the end where her hand should be, then followed it to the other side where it linked to her elbow and clambered up her arm to end in a solid pauldron latched around her shoulder. Completely concealed, whatever lay inside hidden from view.

Oh.

“Yeah.” Aster’s voice sounded from behind her, quiet and somber. “The thing about decayed… digestive fluids… is that whatever they corrode resists light-based healing. That arm disintegrated far enough down its throat that some of it splashed on the stump. All the other damage on you was gnarly, but much easier to fix.”

Stel was barely listening. Her fingers traced the surface, running over tiny bumps and crevices, before tapping the cylinder in random places in an idle hope she’d sense the vibrations in her entombed arm. A pointless act. She felt nothing.

“That there’s a special cast for these situations,” The gorlek’s voice drifted back in. “Nice perk of a forest full of inventors and metalworkers. It’ll keep your arm in stasis while the healers regrow it, day by day. I volunteered to fit you with one and take it off as needed.” 

“Why aren’t you touching me?” She mumbled.

The question slipped out by accident. Her instincts trying to focus her on something else, anything else, to distract her from the yawning abyss in her senses. The branch dug into her spine, rigid and unfeeling.

Aster fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. Doctor's orders. Naturally sensitive spirit, prolonged healing session, and non-stop exposure to the Cradle’s ambient light means your sensory skills are all sky high. If you’re lucky, touching another creature will only give you a migraine. But touching another spirit might knock you out on the spot.” One of his hands emerged in her sight and gently rested on her cast. “Trust me, there’s nothing I want more right now than to give you a hug.”

She struggled to muster a response, thanks of some kind, but the words wouldn’t form. Too many thoughts swirled in her head at once. Floating in a sea of relief, her newfound disability an anchor dragging her down. An uncanny reminder of how fragile they all were, trying to carve open a path so ugly memories and thoughts could flood in. 

So Stel stopped thinking. She pulled her legs in to fold them beneath her as comfortably as the contraption allowed, and closed her eyes. 

Too much noise. Let it all go for a moment. Feel the breath of the world.

She heard the wind, blowing back and forth like the breath of a giant. The foliage above hissed and rasped, flowing like waves on a shore. The ceaseless, rhythmic chirping of the land itself, the heartbeat of the world. Faint voices and birdsong and the rustling of leaves. The solidity of the ground she sat on, stretching in every direction, dropping into cliffs and rising to form mountains, riddled with plants and rivers, sounds and colors, homes and those that dwelled within them. 

Life .

She remained. They all did. Death came, and they turned it away.

There was triumph in that. 

Stel opened her eyes again, aware she’d been silent for a few moments, and turned to look at Aster. “Thank you. For being here for me. It means a lot.”

Bushy eyebrows raised up in mild surprise, then his face lit up with a smile. “Whenever you need me, Stel.”

A few seconds passed in a comfortable silence before a rumble filled the air. A meaningless but powerful sound, directed solely at the two of them. Maybe the Cedar’s way of clearing their throat? Stel. When Eir left this morning, she left behind an invitation in case you awoke. There is someone at the ward who wants to see you.

The spirit looked up at her parent. Someone… waiting for her? It could be Varia, but from what Aster said she’ll probably return to the Cradle to see her. Maybe the other healers, but why would they want to see her? Lume was here. She wracked her brain for another answer, but came up short. “Who?”

A gust of air tugged at her fur. A divine version of an amused huff. She didn’t elaborate. Merely stated it would be a ‘nice surprise’.

Even if she didn’t want to see Eir, which she did, curiosity alone would have her limping over to the ward. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could go that far in her current state. Carrying around her magic cast, unable to even lean on someone for support. She sighed. “I’d like to, but…”

“Can’t move?” Aster spoke up, standing up and circling around to stand in front of her again. “No problem. I’ll carry you over to the Master Well, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Stel stared blankly. “But… you can’t touch me.”

The gorlek reached down, grasping the edges of the sheet she sat on. “No, I can’t.”

Shortly after, Aster hoisted Stel in his arms, having wrapped her in the fabric until only her head remained exposed. He spent a few seconds adjusting his grip, ensuring it wasn’t too constricting and that the metal cast was comfortably positioned, before turning to the Cedar and beginning his march towards the misshapen rocks next to the heart of Cestis.

The path there wasn’t that long. Head for the Spirit Tree, around the massive trunk until they saw the well, then walk in a straight line until they arrived. A five minute journey at most. Which is why she was so surprised when Aster veered off to the side to walk towards some of the spirits. When she asked where they were going, his chest rumbled with a chuckle.

She only realized when they were ten feet away from the first spirit the gorlek was heading for. “Wait, we - we shouldn’t wake - !”

“I don’t think looking will wake anyone, Stel.”

One by one, they found them. Lien, lying on her side with her eyes closed, tended to by a Moki with a pouch full of herbs. Hue and the twins weren’t far from her, the little spirits leaning against the larger one as they all slept.

Lume lay on his stomach, drooling on his own little carpet. Eyes closed, limbs sticking out at weird angles, looking all the world like he was about to crawl out of bed while cursing the existence of sunlight. Stel ducked her head, rocking with silent giggles. Even in sleep he was an incorrigible dork.

“He should wake up very soon.” The gumon overseeing him said. “Not much light to replace.”

They thanked her and walked away. Aster patted her in the back through the fabric. “Feel better?”

She wrestled the mirth back down, blinking the tears out of her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Good then!”

And with that, the gorlek turned towards the Master Well. They’d gone on a long, crooked path to visit everyone, but by a twist of fate, Lume was less than fifty feet away from the stone structure. Stel couldn’t complain about the longer journey, either. Aster was noticeably very experienced at carrying around objects without jostling them, and his large chest and arms coupled with the soft sheet meant she was incredibly comfy.

Stel was somewhat disappointed when they stopped walking, her caretaker leaning forward to gently place her within the confines of the well before stepping back. The familiar flowing light danced around her, eager to transport, while her functioning arm worked to unwrap herself from the blanket. The Cedar loomed above, patiently waiting for her to set her protective layer aside and turn her attention to it before speaking up.

“Someone waits for you on the other side.” Its voice the samebooming echo she’d heard on her first day, but still none of the spirits on the field reacted. Its voice was limited to the well, to Stel’s ears alone. “I will grant you a temporary infusion of energy, so you may walk without pain. Do not make physical contact with anyone, do not leave your supervisor’s sight, and return here within an hour at most to resume your recovery.”  

“Yes, father.” It felt strange to address the Cedar with that word, but the sheer care in its voice called for its usage. 

The light surged, lifting her into the air. Her fur wavered and blurred, becoming part of it for a moment. New strength flooded into her limbs, clearing away most of the exhaustion. The light swirled for a few more seconds before gently lowering her to the ground, her muscles mercifully refusing to scream out in protest as her legs held her weight, the cast now nothing more than a mild annoyance threatening to throw her off balance.

Stel felt great. The best she’s been since yesterday morning, in fact. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to being feeble.

A rumble sounded from outside the well. Aster was clearing his throat again to get her attention, holding up a long bandage. “Stel, could you come here a second?”

She walked over, and Aster reached down to tie one end around the contraption where her wrist ought to be. He brought his hand up and around her head to drape it over her neck before pulling it down to tie the other end around her forearm. He tugged at both knots before nodding. “There. That should help a little.”

She nodded back. By itself the cast was heavy and a bit too eager to swing around, so the added stability was incredibly reassuring. “It does, thanks.” She paused for a second. “The Cedar said someone’s waiting for me. You’re not coming?”

Aster shook his head. “Afraid you’re not the only one wearing one of those. Need to keep an eye on the others, too.” He placed his hands on the border of the well and leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “But I’ll be here when you get back.”

Stel smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With one last nod, the Gorlek backed away from the well. As soon as he was clear, the air shimmered around her. The familiar chain tugged at her soul, ready to pull her somewhere else.

“Stel?” The Cedar called out, getting her attention. “Before you go.”

She stopped herself, leaving the weightless feeling of travel alone as she looked back up at her parent. “Yes, father?”

For a moment there was silence. The light above the Cedar’s canopy flared for a split second, a warm radiance piercing the almost frenetic energy of well travel to sweep through her like a warm hug. “I have had thousands of children. I have lost far too many. They must be born ready to battle, for the world can be a hateful place. Many times I have seen them crumble under the pressure. Friendship, brotherhood, solidarity, all of them stutter and fail before the unfaltering might of self preservation.” The air pulled back, grass rippling in its wake. “But every so often a soul is born that defies these expectations. One ready to lay down their life for others, for no other reason other than an incredible capacity to love. Someone that would face their own doubts and demons if it meant the people around them would be safe. Strangers or siblings.”

The canopy parted far above her, and a single ray of sunlight beamed down at her, warming her fur.

“I am immensely, immensely proud to call you my child.”

Something rushed through Stel. A hazy, dreamlike feeling, a boiling cauldron of pride, joy, and mirth plastering a smile so wide on her face it made her cheeks hurt. Acknowledgement. Approval. Worth .

“Th-” she hiccuped. “Thank you.”

The astral chain tugged. She offered no resistance. 

Stel opened her eyes to a battlefield.

Scars lined the forest. The paths Eir had taught her about had crumbled into themselves, their entrances buried by fallen trees. Not a single scrap of  bark remained unmarked, whether by fire, claw, or blades of light. The sun seemed much brighter than she remembered, and a glance up confirmed the cover of the treetops had thinned, their remnants littering the floor around her.

But despite the mess, her heart felt light. No blood. No carnage.

“Ah, there you are.”

A familiar voice drew her attention forward. Nier leaned against the tree with the symbol that marked the ward’s path, looking all the world like Stel interrupted a very important nap. One of his hands held a small wooden object, which he was busy carving into with a small knife made of pure light. “I gotta say, you’re tough. Even with the tree’s help, I was expecting you to crawl out of that well, or just show up a little later.”

Stel paused for a second before shrugging. “Just… felt rude to leave someone waiting when I could come now.” She stepped off the well, carefully trudging through the uneven ground. “So you called me here? Can I ask why?”

He chuckled, digging the knife into his project and swiping it away. A sliver of wood spiraled through the air. “I wasn’t the one who called you, actually. Cramped woods don’t agree with her much, so she’s waiting by the ward. I’m just here to take you there.” He pushed himself off the bark and indicated the path with his head. “Shall we then?”

Stel nodded, fidgeting with her cast. “Lead the way.” 

He walked, still chipping away at his little project, and she followed. The true path to Winter’s Perch was not untouched, but compared to its siblings it was almost pristine. Ominously so. Stel’s eyes roamed back and forth, searching for evidence of the violence that must have happened here, lingering on what little they found. A massive hole in a tree trunk. Ashes where a berry bush used to be. 

Six deep gouges in the dirt, violently jerking from side to side as they vanished into the treeline. The trees around it slightly cracked as if something large thrashed side to side, the ground burnt from a ceaseless last effort.

Nier stopped next to her, also staring at the lines in the ground. “They won the fight back there. Used every trick path and weapon they had. Were heading back there to check on you.”

He sighed. In the edge of her sight, the light knife sharpened and extended. “They were picked off. One by one. Joint effort by the thing that attacked you and some smaller beasties. Took too long to realize what was happening, and by then they were all gone. Last one managed to send a warning to the rest of us.”

Stel nodded. She had nothing to offer but silence.

“We got sloppy. Thought the building and Winter were enough of a deterrent, posted the greenest soldiers we had. Barely two seasons old.” He almost spat the words. “Years and years of this, and we still slip up. Damn it all, we had this. ” He hissed the last part, directed at the desperate scratch marks and the somber forest around them. A hopeless call, born of regret, asking forgiveness from the lost. 

“Why did you come get me, sir?” Stel quietly inquired.

Nier glanced in her direction. His focus diverted, the sword shortened back into a knife. “‘Because you need supervision, Stel.”

“But this is painful to you.” she stated. “Even if whoever called me couldn’t come, there’s always Eir. Or one of her siblings. Or somebody else. Why you?”

He didn’t answer at first, merely stood in place for a few seconds before turning and walking away. Stel hurried to follow alongside him. A dozen steps in silence, with only the sound of his carving daring to disturb it. The only gesture of respect they could offer at the moment. The trail ended ahead, and she already glimpsed the gray walls and golden flagpoles at the edges of her workplace.

Eventually, Nier sighed. “Every so often, you meet a spirit that you just can’t help but root for. One born with a heart of gold, that fights not out of thrill or duty but passion . One that throws their all into everything they do, because if they don’t a bunch of creatures might not make it home at the end of the day.”

Stel nodded. This sounded very familiar.

“Varia’s one of those.” he continued. “Just a bright eyed, bushy tailed recruit who is literally incapable of not doing her best. Who chose the hammer because it can knock threats away from other creatures. Who was the first to answer the distress signal, ahead of any of us, ‘cause she was already rushing here to check if you were safe.”

“I know, sir,” she answered. Memories of cold rain, living light and shared sorrow bubbled to the surface. “She’s a precious soul. I’m honored to be her friend.”

“And she’s lucky she’s yours.” They broke through the treeline into the open sunlight, the ward looming large ahead of them. “Don’t think you had the time to see me, but I sure saw you. Rushing with the brightest, most volatile light burst I’ve ever seen, jumping between them, and killing that thing almost at the cost of your own life? That was…”

He trailed off, slowing to a halt. She stopped as well, both of them beneath the shadow of the ward. Stel’s ears twitched at unfamiliar sounds, patterings on soft dirt and a muffled rustling from behind the building, but refocused as Nier cleared his throat. 

“What I mean is… thanks. I mean it. A bright little light was almost snuffed out, but survived because you were there. So…” He hesitated for a second, then sighed and held out the little object he’d been working on, looking away. “Here.”

Stel immediately reached out and plucked it from his grasp to spare him from any further awkwardness, turning it over in her hand. A simple, minimalist representation of a spirit, with blocky ears and cut out circles for eyes. Curled in on itself so the limbs only had to be apparent, instead of shaped and fleshed out. More of a detailed engraving than an idol or figurine. Nier obviously wasn’t an artist

But that didn’t matter. He’d put effort into this. Meaning .

“Thank you.” was all she found it in herself to say.

He nodded, visibly uncomfortable. They stood there for a few more seconds, neither sure of  what to do next, until the warrior cleared his throat. “They’re just around the corner. You can’t miss ‘em.” He took a step to the side, circling around her towards where they came from. “I’ll, uh… go watch the well.”

He departed in far more of a hurry than he’d led Stel to the ward with. She couldn’t blame him. Stars, why were open demonstrations of emotion so painfully embarrassing? She squeezed the little idol until the edges dug into her palm, trying to get her thoughts back under control. Gratitude had a way of knocking even the sturdiest spirits off balance.

But she had to set it aside for now. The muffled sounds were back. What were those? Another one nudged its way into the natural ambience this time. Some sort of low-pitched gust of wind. Maybe an instrument—

“Stel?”

Startled, she whirled around before Eir’s voice could even register as familiar. The cast threw off her weight, almost pulling her to the ground, but she managed to find her footing right as the healer’s hands stopped inches from her shoulders.

Eir froze for a second before letting out a frustrated huff, withdrawing back to a normal position. “I’m sorry. Catching you would’ve done more harm than good. It’s a reflex.”

“I know, I know. I would’ve done the same,” Stel reassured, but her voice was still shaky from the close call. “I’m okay. I didn’t fall and you didn’t graze me.”

Eir still looked a bit peeved, but nodded. “I should still know better, but you’re right. Regardless, I’m glad you came. Can I hold on to that for you?” She pointed at the idol in Stel’s hand, leaving the spirit puzzled. “This? Why?”

Eir beckoned. “Trust me?”

Stel blinked, but shrugged and dropped the little statue on Eir’s waiting palm. The healer nodded and turned towards the edge of the perch. For a split second, Stel swore she saw a smirk. “This way.”

They walked around the ward, past the almost invisible doors. Stel’s ears twitched almost non-stop, trying to understand what exactly they were approaching. Three creatures, on the smallish side? She’d never heard any who sounded like this. And what was the weird, windy noise? Why was it coming from so high?

Eir reached the end of the building and turned the corner before looking up at something out of sight. “She’s here. Like you asked.”

With curiosity burning to the point of frustration, Stel walked a bit faster and reached the corner as well, peering out from next to Eir.

Towering above the ward, the owl’s head turned to follow, two red eyes locked on her.

Stel froze. She couldn’t help it. Despite hearing about the guardian of the perch, what the colossal bird’s duty was, instinct alone rooted her to the floor. Fight and flight wrested for dominance as she was momentarily reduced to the mindset of a wriggly worm about to be plucked out of the ground. 

The massive white owl’s head tilted. Then her eyes widened slightly, a small motion but incredibly obvious in such a massive creature, and promptly took a step back. At the same time, Eir spoke from behind. Stel hadn’t even realized she’d stepped closer to the owl. “It’s alright. She won’t hurt you.”

A predator’s retreat and a mentor’s reassurance, backed by her remaining scraps of logical thought, were enough to pull her back. Primal fear receded, sinking back into the depths, and Stel barely had a second of neutrality before it was replaced by awe .

All spirits had awoken beneath a tree that seemed to span the entire sky with branches reaching for the horizon. An attempt from the world itself to reach for the cosmos. Size shouldn’t faze her at all, but Winter was her own kind of behemoth, the kind that lived and breathed, with feathers so radiant and pure it left Stel feeling like a snowflake staring up at a blizzard. The guardian’s eyes gleamed, red suns amidst an avalanche, but she couldn’t glimpse a single hint of predatory intent. 

The spirit and the owl stared at each other for a moment more. One with her neck beginning to hurt from looking up in wonder, the other bearing down with a calm, lingering sorrow.

Winter closed her eyes and bowed her head, her beak almost scraping her chest, one leg bending to lower herself as much as a giant could. A gesture exuding regret, asking forgiveness. Stel’s involuntary smile dimmed. The childish fascination that had gripped her began to dissipate as understanding crept in.

“She wanted to apologize to you. Personally.” the healer’s voice came again.

Stel looked over her shoulder. Eir met her eyes, the remnants of a smile still visible in her expression. Her face must have been something to behold.  “She mistimed something deeply personal. Decay follows no set schedule. We were just unlucky.” She glanced up, over Stel’s head. “All of us. Please, don’t blame her.” 

Stel turned around fully to face Eir, then shook her head. “I don’t.”

It seemed illogical, but it was true. No one in the ward had died. Stel herself wouldn’t even be crippled by the end of her treatment. There was nothing Winter could’ve done about the dead warriors either, as her size simply didn’t allow her to fight inside the woodlands they perished in. The threat of her existence alone can’t stop the mindless rot. The only thing she can be bitter about was the scorpion reaching them, but again, no one had died. The wounded were healing.

What was there to really blame the owl about?

“But… I’m curious.” Stel continued. “Can I ask what that personal business was?”

Eir’s expression morphed into confusion, then incredulity. “You… you didn’t see them?”

Stel was immediately on guard, scanning the terrain behind the healer. “See who? Is someone else here?”

Eir didn’t respond. Just raised a hand and twirled a finger in the air, a gesture to turn around. At the same time, three quiet thumps impacted the ground behind Stel, each closer than the last. 

She spun around. Her cast swung with her momentum and threw her off balance, forcing her to stumble sideways as the tiny owlet leapt back with a squawk, flapping its wings, trying to make distance from the flailing spirit. The other two scooted closer to their mother. Winter spread her wings slightly so they could huddle into her sides.

But it was only a brief scare. Stel managed to right herself, trying to stay very still. Eir chuckled, the old witch, so Stel shot her a glare while waiting for the owlets to find the courage to approach her again. 

A few seconds passed, then the bold one who’d approached her the first time once again shuffled closer, taking careful steps this time instead of the excited hops she’d heard, big red eyes focused squarely on her own.

Stars above, it was so cute . With its little talons, puffy feathers and tiny beak. How did she miss them? Were Winter’s eyes that captivating? Stel’s left hand reached out almost on its own, but the warning about touching other creatures flashed bright in her mind. She argued back with wanting to touch the baby. It flashed brighter. She sighed and retracted the arm, only for Eir’s hand to land on the space between the cast and her neck.

“It’s alright. There’s not much to sense when they’re so young, and I’ll share the burden.” She nudged Stel forward slightly. “Go ahead.”

The baby was now less than an arm's length away, looking her up and down, and Stel fought through the cuteness to timidly raise her hand again.The living snowball stared at her hand for a few seconds, almost cross eyed, before closing the distance and pressing its beak into her open palm.

Her arm jolted, like she’d been pricked with a tiny lightning bolt, numbness briefly flowing up to her shoulder as she was distracted by a sourceless mess of sights, smells and tastes. Then Eir’s hand squeezed, forcing the static to fade into background noise and allowing Stel to focus on the feeling of touching a tiny piece of winter itself. A hard, smooth beak, then drifting up to brush against soft feathers, then slipping around to scratch at the little groove between its head and the rest of its body. A shiver and appreciative hoot had Stel smiling ear to ear.

“They’re-” Stel cleared her throat, then pitched her voice so it would carry to Winter without startling the child. “They’re beautiful!”

The owl’s beak could not smile, but she saw it in her red eyes all the same.

And then the other ones approached as well, eager for attention, and Winter and Eir could do little but watch Stel melt into a puddle.

Eventually, the guardian had to leave, and her children as well.

Stel expected them to walk away along the edge, or for the owlets to ride on their mother’s back and glide down towards Cestis. Instead Winter spread her wings and took flight, sailing through the air, and despite their shaky trajectory they followed in her wake all on their own. Eir helped her walk over to the edge to watch them fly away. They soared over rivers and fields, white shadows contrasted over blue and green and brown and everything in between. Her eyes remained locked on them until the family was far too small to see.

Not a moment too soon, sadly. She’d enjoyed it while it lasted, bouncing between the curious owlets and listening as Eir alternated between scolding her for being a thoughtless idiot and thanking every star in the sky that she’d managed to save Stel in the end. The veteran even went into more detail about what happened after her suicide rush. Varia having to be dragged away, the tree’s surge purging the forest, the message sent to reactivate the wells so she could be brought to the Cedar as fast as possible.

Eir wouldn’t talk about the state Stel was in. She would turn away and refuse to answer.

And the whole time Stel felt the Cedar’s boost fading away. The contraption on her arm seemingly far heavier, her feet beginning to hurt, her body warning her that no matter how much air she breathed in there simply wasn’t enough to energize all of her muscles. She needed Eir’s help to walk, otherwise the spirit had no choice but to sit down.

So after the farewell, Eir turned around to take her back and send her once more into her parent’s embrace. That was the plan.

Which promptly crumbled when the healer glanced inland and winced. “Oh, dear.”

Stel followed her gaze and froze. In the distance, half hidden in the treeline, stood Varia, stone-faced and still. Lume fidgeted next to her, visibly uncomfortable, leaning away to try to escape the smothering aura of indignant rage that Stel could feel even from the other side of the clearing.

She swallowed. “Eir, could you uh… just leave me by the edge of the Perch?”

“Where you healed your brother yesterday?” Eir whispered back, unquestioning.

“Yeah. Lots of places to sit there.”

Eir nodded. They turned towards the edge, Stel glimpsing Varia beginning to stride forward with Lume in tow, and hobbled over to the quiet little space riddled with flat rocks, dry leaves and a decent amount of privacy. Great for a reunion, despite the looming pressure of impending doom.

Eir sat her down on a decently sized rock, plenty of space on both sides. “I’ll be nearby.” she whispered, before straightening up and heading back to the ward.

Stel kept her eyes on the horizon. Letting the peaks, trees and shining rivers draw her attention away from the footsteps growing closer and closer. The uneven clacks and thuds of a pair of hooves connecting with grass and stone, masking the wispy sound of paws almost gliding over the undergrowth.

Finally the sounds stopped right next to her rock. Varia sat down to her left, soft and furry, exuding far too much power for someone her size. Lume to her right, his presence almost imperceptible next to the warrior’s but still soothing. Like a ray of sunshine amidst a cloudy sky.

Three siblings. Almost shoulder to shoulder. All pretending to be very interested in the sights beyond them.

The world watched with bated breath. Varia turned to face her, very, very slowly, and the pressure increased tenfold. Lume gently tapped her cast to get Stel’s attention, urging her with his eyes to just get it over with.

She bowed her head with a defeated chuckle. “Hey, guys.”

The ice shattered. Varia instantly lunged, teeth bared, claws almost scratching grooves into the rock as her face stopped an inch from her sisters. “What were you THINKING?”

Stel flinched at the yell ringing in her ears. Lume scooted away so they wouldn’t collide by accident. Despite everything, both were careful not to touch her.

“I was born to fight,” Varia snarled. Stel looked away. “I’m great at it. Top of my class, believe it or not. You had absolutely no right to do what you did. I had it !”

Something about that brought Stel’s courage roaring back. She straightened up, forcing Varia to lean away, and stared right back. “No. You did not have that. If I didn’t step in you would have died .”

“And you would’ve been okay!”

“Varia, you must think I was born with half a brain if you believe I would have sat back and watched you die.” Stel felt Lume quickly stand up behind her and step away. She paid him no mind.

Varia bristled, her face twisting into an even uglier scowl. “Did you learn nothing that night with the ancestral tree? What I’m all about? What I want to do with my life?”

Stel didn’t budge an inch. “I learned exactly what I needed at that tree.”

“You’re not listening to me! ”

“Say it a little clearer then, cause I’m not getting it! ”

Varia brought her fist down on the rock. It cracked. “ I would’ve died a hundred times if it meant you would be okay!”

“ That’s because you’re a moron!”

“ YOU—!”

Something slipped in between their faces. White, soft, spinning in place and brushing against both their noses, leaving an irrepressible itch in its wake. They both threw themselves back from their attack positions, Stel scrubbing furiously at her nose while her eyes watered. Varia sucked in a breath, going cross eyed for a second, then sneezed.

They both stared at each other, completely dumbfounded, before looking to their side. Lume smirked, twirling the tiny feather between his fingers. “You two alright? Could we use our inside voices now? I know we’re outside, but y’know, it’s… polite.” The smile dimmed. The usual friendly exuberance in his voice felt half-formed and damp.

The sisters faced each other again, both incapable of summoning the vitriol from seconds ago. Stel had to admit she never even thought about confusing someone out of their anger before. How’d he even think of this?

“Okay, silence,” he nodded. “Silence is good. Unless you’re planning to push me off this cliff. Please don’t.”

“Sadly, I can’t touch you at the moment.” Stel muttered back, eyes still on the fluffy spirit.

“I can,” Varia added, “so you better move.”

Lume was jogging around the rock in an instant, stopping on the side with an uncomfortable amount of gravel to sprawl on. Better than the empty void beyond, at least. “Phew. Okay, girls, could we, um, start over? Please?” He raised his hands as if to place them on their shoulders, but put them down with a sheepish expression. “Sorry. Sorry, no touchie. I just… can we make this a nice reunion? Please? I thought I— “ His voice failed. He swallowed. “I thought I lost both of you.”

She looked down at the ground, shame creeping in. “I’m sorry.”

Varia pursed her lips, turning to stare off into the distance. “Yeah. Me too.”

Lume nodded, walking back around and sitting down next to Stel again. For a minute no one said anything, just quietly digesting the fact they were all together again. No broken hearts. No graves.

“Half your face was gone,” Varia mumbled. “So much—“She choked on a quiet sob. “So much blood.”

Stel nodded, screwing her eyes shut. Sadly, she wasn’t surprised. The light burst wasn’t about to get completely contained by a few inches of flesh and plating. She’d accepted the end before she even took her first step outside the building. Either she died, or she survived in a world where she’d let someone die.

Stel would’ve been dead either way.

“I—” she stopped, looking up at the sky to gather her thoughts. “I can’t apologize for saving your lives. Never. But I’m… so, so sorry I worried you so much. I didn’t think…” she trailed off.

“Yeah,” Varia muttered. “Didn’t think. Sums it up.”

Lume coughed. “Easy there.”

Stel clenched and unclenched her fist. Trying to think of anything else to say. This wasn’t enough. She needed to say more, put everything into words. What they meant to her, her thoughts and feelings, her hopes for the future. So much to say, no way to say it. 

Stel opened her mouth, hoping it would help her find the words. “I—”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Varia interrupted. She’d turned her way, eyes watering. “I’m just… really, really happy. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” 

Stel ground her teeth. No, words weren’t what she needed here. She wanted to grab Varia, grab both her siblings, and crush them with as much affection as her single arm would allow, but everything about her had to be going haywire—

Something fluttered above her. She only had time to see the shocked look on her sister’s face before the world disappeared. Coarse fabric landed over her head and covered her all the way to her hooves, turning her into a blind, befuddled bedsheet ghost.

“Have at her, you two.” Eir laughed and backed away.

All three of them froze for a second, trying to understand how a spirit with hooves managed to sneak up on them.

Then the words sunk in, and Stel immediately found herself sandwiched between two unrelenting forces, two pairs of arms trying to wrap all the way around each other with her in the middle. Contact brought the gates crashing down. The crying began, one wet spot blooming where Varia buried her face into Stel’s neck while Lume rested his chin on top of her head. A flood of feelings broke through the veneer of self control and politeness. The quiet sobs and the rocking back and forth, absolute relief, thankful, involuntary prayers to all higher powers that were listening that they were together again.

All the things words couldn’t express.

Stel wished she had the strength to hug back.

The way back home was a little bumpy.

Eir was kind enough to lend them a stretcher. They all laid Stel down on top of it, still in her blanket, then Varia and Lume each grabbed one end to take her back to the well. Eir dropped Nier’s idol in Stel’s hand then allowed herself to fall behind, mostly silent, content to let the siblings bicker amongst themselves.

Uneven terrain, their height difference and struggle to maintain the same walking speed meant Stel was being jostled around a lot. Lume complained about his arms and feet hurting, and Varia called him a weakling. He tried to shift the blame by calling Stel heavy, but she’d managed to pull the covers off her head and also call him a weakling. The laughter that followed meant they almost dropped her, but it was worth it.

After some fumbling to get on the well, Eir advised them to lay Stel down on the ground. Her siblings glanced at her, at each other, then turned sideways to set her down. That way, she could turn her head sideways to address her teacher. “Eir, I… thanks. For everything.”

That was it. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment that she couldn’t muster anything else, but Eir shrugged with a smile. “Thank you , Stel, for being such a brave soul and amazing student. I hope to see you again soon.”

Stel promptly threw the covers over her head before the blush became visible through her fur. 

“Thanks for saving her.” Varia piped up. “You were there every time I visited.”

“Really glad you managed to stay awake when we all fell over, too.” Lume huffed. “At least she wasn’t alone, you know?”

“You all flatter me.” Eir laughed. “It’s my duty. Not only as healer, but as spirit. We must care for each other, forever and always.”

The well hummed. The chain returned one more time, and the fidgeting she felt from Lume and Varia meant they felt it as well.

“Rest, you three.” the veteran said in a low tone. Almost lost amidst the buzzing of the light. 

“Tomorrow will be a better day.”

A wet, staticky hiss announced Varia’s almost instant departure. Lume followed shortly after. Stel was the last to let go, letting herself dissolve into light and swirl through reality back to her parent’s embrace. 

A void, the sound of rushing wind, then Stel groaned and brought her arm up to shield her eyes from the stray rays of light breaking through the Cedar’s leaves. Still lying down, it took her a second to process neither the fabric nor the stretcher had followed her through the network, and she promptly groaned again at being cruelly exposed to the cold dirt of the Master Well.

“They’re back!”

Her head snapped to the side. Lien was there, elbows braced on the uneven stones with a relieved smile on her face. Fii and Gii were perched on two different bricks, at different heights, looking like particularly innocent gargoyles waving at her. She searched for Hue, but he wasn’t there.

“Guys! You’re awake!” Lume greeted from right above her head. Huh. When had they become friends? “You alright? Anything hurting?”

Lien shook her head. “No, we’re okay. Hue’s still out cause he has a high capacity despite being a healer, so more light to replace. He’ll be alright.”

“When, though?” Fii whined. Or was it Gii? Without the capes it was much harder to tell them apart. “We wanna play!”

Varia chuckled, smoothing out her fur. “There’s bound to be a lot of people you can play with around here. Look! Almost everyone’s awake!”

“They are?” Stel knew better than to crane her neck to try to see. Both painful and useless, since she couldn’t see past the borders of the Master Well even if she was sitting up. Her tiredness was fully back by now, and she wondered if it was dangerous to get another boost from the Cedar. Was it addicting or something?

Lien’s eyes went wide. “Stel!” She hopped the wall and moved closer, kneeling next to her. “Oh, wow, you’re okay! I-I mean-” she made a vague, awkward gesture to her cast. “-not exactly but you’re alive! I didn’t see how hurt you were, but everyone told me it was horrible.”

“It was.” Varia muttered. Lien's face morphed into even heavier concern. The warrior took a breath, a tiny smile emerging. “But she’s alright. Alive. And hopefully in enough pain to teach her never to do that again.”

Stel chuckled, then coughed. Laughing hurt. “Let’s not start this over, please? I just want to lie down and pass out ‘till the pain goes away.”

Lien got up and trotted back to where she was, reaching over the wall. “A gorlek left this with my caretaker. Said to get this back to you when you arrived, because physical touch was dangerous.” She straightened up, and Stel huffed upon seeing Aster’s blanket in her hands. 

Lume laughed. “Great! Toss it over her and let’s ditch this joint.”

Stel managed to growl. “Get me out of here or I swear, I will strangle you with that blanket.”

That just made him laugh harder. Lien cracked too, backed by the infectious snickering of the twins. All of this wormed into Varia’s ears, cracks spreading through her stern visage until she was braced against the rocks trying not to fall over, overtaken by breathless giggles.

Crap , was all Stel managed to think before her own chest started painfully seizing with laughs as well.

They got her out in the end. It took a surprisingly insistent gust of wind almost knocking them over, but they did. Lume and Lien started to discuss how they could carry Stel, but Varia just sighed, slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and heaved her up without barely a grunt of effort. She dismissed their concerns by stating she was the strongest here by far, but Stel could feel her hold tighten and her breathing quicken. A lost reflection of the innocent spirit she’d met days ago, shining through once more out of sheer concern. 

Vee planted a hoof on the lowest part of the ring of stones and stepped out, the center of a  tiny procession that began to make its way through the Cradle. Stel’s head turned as much as she could without upsetting her sister’s balance, trying to take in the sights as they smothered her under a crushing wave of nostalgia.

Almost every spirit was on their feet, now. Journeying back and forth, checking on their friends, speaking to their caretakers. A few scattered groups had enough energy to run and play, talking and laughing quietly so as to not disturb those still asleep, sometimes slowing down so they could cheer up the gravely wounded. Stel saw a few barracks fluttering in the wind, improvised mess halls manned by volunteers delivering food to anyone who asked. Older creatures were herding young children, of all sizes and species, encouraging them to run around as wandering beacons of delight. She caught a faraway glimpse of Aster kneeling next to a spirit with a leg in a cast like hers, looping a colorful flower garland around their neck before patting them on the head. 

The sky was turning red, the sun almost at the horizon. The Cradle burst with color and life. 

Had yesterday even happened? A dark day, full of fear and hurt, dismissed like it was nothing. Like the world had mourned, then emerged even brighter on the other side.

Stel squeezed Nier’s little idol. 

We must care for each other .

She was brought out of her musings when Varia stopped walking and lowered her to the ground. Lume and Lien were sitting nearby, the latter setting up a brown mat covered end to end in snacks and small refreshments. Vee carefully unwrapped Stel from the blanket, folding it several times to place it under her head as she was laid down, then slipped a cookie into her hand. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Stel chuckled. They’d even laid her sideways so she could look at the other spirits and reach for the mat with her healthy hand. So thoughtful. “I’ll be even better soon.”

“Good.” Varia nodded, then reached for a jar of water.

That was it for conversation. Stel had no time to even consider she might be hungry in the haze of survival and relief until she’d been physically placed next to a meal, as humble as it was. A sentiment visibly shared, given not even Lume could speak through the mouthfuls of bread and jam he was swallowing. Vee kept handing her whatever she couldn’t reach, like cups of water or other kinds of baked goods, with the occasional pat on the gorlek contraption. Despite her numbness, it meant a lot.

At some point, the twins asked if they could head on over to check on Hue. Lien flagged down a moki to escort them there, all three of them watching as the poor creature was almost immediately left in the dust. She sat back down with a chuckle, nibbling at what little food was left.

It didn’t take long until nothing remained but scattered utensils, empty containers and several spirits beginning to feel the tiresome weight of being well fed. Every spirit that could stand did so, shuffling over and lying back down around Stel, all of their heads in a small circle as their legs were splayed outwards like a four pointed star.

The wind was soft, barely a breeze. The stars timidly shone through the dusk. Even the Cedar’s light was understated, letting the spectacle of nature stand all on its own.

Peace.

“Are any of you scared?” Varia whispered. “Of what’s out there?”

No one answered. The seconds ticked by in quiet contemplation.

“Maybe,” said Lume. “But I’m scared of wild animals too. It’s just how things are.”

“This was bad.” Lien was the next to speak up. “But I’m relieved. Because I thought it was so much worse.”

Three heads turned slightly, ears audibly dragging on the grass, to the last member of the group. Stel took longer to answer, tracing constellations with her eyes. Wondering if the lights in the sky could ever burn as bright as the ones that walked the earth.

“I wish it didn’t exist.” she said, lost in the stars. “But we all live despite it. We’re happy. And I think that’s beautiful.”

Something settled over them all. A mantle of peace, of acceptance. In the absence of words, feelings resounded, and all four allowed themselves to bask in gratitude and comfort. Just for a few minutes more.

Lume took a breath. “Does anyone want to go home?”

“Actually, I…” Varia answered, hesitant. “I’d like to stay a little longer. I like this place.”

“Don’t we all?” Stel muttered. “This is home.”

Days ago, life began. And now it must carry on. And Stel felt a newfound urge to make each day just a bit brighter than the last.

“I love you guys.” Lien muttered. Quiet, fond chuckles answered her statement. Four ghosts in the night, lighting the way to the future. Darkness came, and failed.

It would fail again.

They were alive.