Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches


    Amdirlain recounted her conversation with Sarah, stopping occasionally as Sarith restrained her questions. After she’d finished, Sarith addressed the questions the recount had raised, and Sarah joined the discussion and sat beside Amdirlain. Sarah listened while Amdirlain cleared up the few outstanding items from their conversion on the Demi-Plane, fighting her jitters as she did so. With the most raw emotions out of the way, the discussion eventually transformed into one about Kadaklan’s advice on handling her past life memories.


    When the distant chimes repeated through the training hall, Sarith hesitated to rise. “I could stay longer if you like?”


    “It’s okay. You helped me progress in setting up a framework to handle the memories,” said Amdirlain. “You also allowed us to clear a few more things up. I’ve been so nervous I let myself get distracted.”


    “Anytime either of you need an ear about anything, just let me know,” Sarith replied; with a pleased nod to them, she headed off.


    Amdirlain rested her head against Sarah’s shoulder and sighed when Sarah’s arm wrapped around her.


    “Roher will be here shortly,” noted Amdirlain.


    “The only thing I regret about them exiling the idiots is that you missed the opportunity to rub their noses in the songs,” murmured Sarah. “Do you think anyone will tell them?”


    “I don’t care about that,” said Amdirlain. “It was more annoying that any of them wanted to take digs at me.”


    “That’s how politics go: build yourself up by making the opponent react to your digs,” observed Sarah. “That they’d viewed you as an opponent to undermine made my teeth ache.”


    Amdirlain tapped her fingers against the stone floor and drew a snort from Sarah.


    “What?”


    “You’ve got all the fancy furniture on the viewing platforms, and you and Sarith just knelt on the stone without a worry,” clarified Sarah. “Thank you.”


    Amdirlain frowned. “For?”


    “For taking a chance on me,” replied Sarah


    “How often are you going to say that?” asked Amdirlain.


    “Until you’re comfortable hearing I love you,” said Sarah, and she kissed Amdirlain’s forehead.


    The flush that darkened Amdirlain’s skin drew a smile from Sarah.


    “Beast,” grumbled Amdirlain.


    Sarah’s grin widened. “Roar.”


    “I distracted you from your teaching session,” noted Amdirlain, shifting awkwardly as Sarah snorted in amusement.


    Yeah, okay, I’m terrible at changing the subject when it’s about my feelings. I should at least tell her how I feel.


    Sarah cupped Amdirlain’s face. “You don’t need to say anything in return. I didn’t intend to pressure you.”


    Amdirlain’s stomach twisted into knots around the rampaging butterflies as she smiled back. “I can’t imagine life without you. You didn’t pressure me, though it’ll take a while to sink in fully. Oh yeah, I got an alert while we spoke to Sarith.”


    And I need to change the subject. I’m hopelessly flustered.


    “About?” Sarah asked warily.


    I completely screwed up that announcement.


    Amdirlain winced. “Sorry, that was a bad way to break the news. Mor’lmes and four teams are in the new Demi-Plane.”


    The tension left Sarah, and mischief chimed from her. “Do we go freak him out, or will you give them time to explore?”


    Amdirlain nodded. “We can hassle him once they’ve looked around, or maybe we can catch him by himself. I’ll have to change the zones to put in Gilorn’s improvements.”


    Gilorn appeared, hovering nearby. “I’ve already implemented them.”


    “What?” groaned Amdirlain.


    “That plinth might take it out on you if you had put them in place. However, since I came up with the idea and implemented it without your say, the responsibility is mine,” explained Gilorn. “Though I’m still concerned about the one you created with me.”


    “I’ve got an idea for that,” Sarah said, pointing towards the constructs that lined the far side of the hall. “Use it as a training zone for your Slime construct drivers.”


    Amdirlain wrinkled her nose. “They’d tramp everything into the ground.”


    “Playground for some of Bahamut’s escorts? They certainly wouldn’t be in danger from anything inside it,” offered Sarah. “It might distract them enough to repay him for all the concern he caused you.”


    “No, they don’t get to play. Since it’s intended as a training ground, I’ll send Ebusuku the details for her celestials,” replied Amdirlain. “Do we make the base versions together, and you then change them, Gilorn?”


    “That would be an extra separation between you and reckless mortals,” agreed Gilorn. “Let’s do what we can to ensure the plinth’s judgement has no grounds for persecuting you.”


    Sarah beamed at Gilorn. “Is there anything you need, Gilorn?”


    “I’m fine,” replied Gilorn. “You are helping unlock affinities this evening, correct?”


    “Yes, but that won’t take long unless the students mess around,” replied Amdirlain. “Getting them into their seats will probably take longer than unlocking the affinities.”


    “Then I’ll return around the time of the evening meal,” stated Gilorn, and she vanished.


    Amdirlain looked at Sarah. “Do I want to know what she’s up to?”


    “I’m not sure. That she had full access to True Song was a big enough surprise,” said Sarah.


    “She was Ori’s helper.”


    “Yeah, but after being betrayed by the Anar and Lóm?,” said Sarah, leaving the sentence hanging.


    “Why did she create another lifeform that could use it?” asked Amdirlain. “Let alone both sides?”


    “Yes,” replied Sarah. “I’m glad you see my confusion.”


    Amdirlain sighed. “I’ll let you know if that memory ever rises from the depths. Gilorn said it was only because Ori overdid her creation that she was anything more than an intelligent harp. I wonder if Ori put contingencies in the stasis to ensure Gilorn got released if there was ever any need for her.”


    “Her fallback plan if it was something the aspects couldn’t handle?”


    Twinges within her True Form had Amdirlain absently digging fingers into her side. “Maybe. Anyway, we could spend all day guessing. I’ll confirm with Roher that I have time to speak to him soon. That might prompt him to show up.”


    “Make sure he knows only to bring a small party,” cautioned Sarah. “They all wanted to speak to you.”


    Shortly after Amdirlain dispatched the message, five songs manifested beyond the boundary of Livia’s Domain.


    When the same jealousy she’d experienced on Veht? spiked, Amdirlain groaned.


    Sarah put her hand on Amdirlain’s shoulder. “Is there a problem?”


    “Roher and Laleither are here, and they brought their children along,” muttered Amdirlain. “That same jealousy I felt before is acting up.”


    Sarah clicked her teeth. “You can hear souls now. Take turns to focus on Laleither and each of her children. You didn’t feel the jealousy when Roher showed you the memories, did you?”


    “No, I didn’t,” admitted Amdirlain.


    “Then the issue might be something that doesn’t quite register, but that’s tickling at your Soul,” suggested Sarah, stroking Amdirlain’s shoulder reassuringly.


    The surge of jealousy spiked again and, away from the other children’s background themes, the strains of their daughter’s soul caused a memory to flash. The wedding ceremony held at dawn had Orhêthurin’s former husband exchanging vows with a female Anar whose Soul resounded with an older incarnation of Laleither’s daughter. A pulse of anger within the recollection peeled back layers, and Amdirlain saw other occurrences of their souls in her different lives. The mix of bitter rivalries and close friendships they’d shared had Amdirlain baffled until one that she knew stood out.


    “Are you alright?” Sarah asked.


    “Only haunted by a memory. I know why I felt jealous about the children,” Amdirlain said, exhaling with relief. “I thought I’d turned into a complete bitch, but there was an understandable reason for the emotion. It’s unpleasant to see in yourself, but it’s understandable. The problem was past life interactions with the daughter. She got married to Orhêthurin’s ex-husband.”


    “Was that the only lifetime?” questioned Sarah. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”


    I said that I would let Sarah know when things were wrong.


    “It’s not just who she was in that memory,” admitted Amdirlain. “It was a more recent one that dug at wounds.”


    “Oh?” hummed Sarah.


    “Among other rivalries, she was also Kathryn,” admitted Amdirlain.


    “Miss couldn’t keep her legs closed around your fiance, Kathryn?” questioned Sarah.


    “Yes,” sighed Amdirlain. “I wonder what Nicholaus did to the realm’s internal time flow. I’d been told it was slowed down, but with so many Anar already returned, he might have slowed its pace further than I expected.”


    “Does it matter?”


    Amdirlain wrinkled her nose. “I guess it doesn’t in the long run. We’re no longer trying to squeeze in as much expansion as possible before the Greek gods’ arrival.”


    “We?” repeated Sarah.


    “Sorry, that was one page where I could share Ori’s feelings. The Greek gods were such assholes they needed to either change or die,” explained Amdirlain, and she thrashed her head back and forth. “Enough! Let’s go out front and greet them when they arrive.”


    “Are you in the right mindset to meet kids?” asked Sarah.


    “I do better in small groups,” reassured Amdirlain. “Remind me never to meet with massive groups of people again. Though I told him to bring a small group, I didn’t expect him to bring their children. Now they’re here, I could hardly be rude enough to refuse to see them. The children are so excited.”


    Held aloft by a barrier Roher supported, the five of them continued to be carried closer at a casual pace that would give Amdirlain plenty of time before their arrival.


    It is a family outing for them, not Roher treating me like I’ll spook easily. Why rush a family outing when it’s usually risky to venture off Veht?? Relax.


    Heading for the front door, Amdirlain considered the group. Roher and Laleither wore the loose half-robes and silken pants common among the Lóm?. While Roher’s attire matched his sapphire gaze, Laleither wore black with isolated strands of silver as brilliant as the pair’s metallic hair that twinkled like distant stars in the daylight.


    Their eldest, Lospen, was a gangly youth who looked sixteen but was older, having been born while they were still in the Abyss. Both boys had the same sapphire eyes as Roher, but Lospen’s hair was snow white while Nordil’s ran through a shimmering range of blue. Their daughter Rainith possessed the usual Anar platinum blond hair and luminous golden eyes. They all wore loose spider silk pants, shirts, and matching boots with protective enchantments. The boys wore light green while Rainith''s apparel was of a silvery cloth which highlighted her bronze-gold skin.


    I wonder how strange the elves find the closeness of their age; years rather than centuries or even millennia apart.


    As she reached the doorway, Amdirlain paused and looked over the platforms.


    Fuck. It completely slipped my mind that the Anar can’t create adamantine.


    Amdirlain made a few alterations to the platforms’ song, implanting traces it was Sarah’s creation.


    “If anyone asks, you constructed the platforms,” said Amdirlain. “Neither Roher nor I considered the adamantine, just the True Song Crystal.”


    Sarah shrugged. “I could superficially create something like it. Maybe I’ll set up a little area on the side of one of my workshops.”


    “Your students could likely use a break area,” proposed Amdirlain. “I’m pretty sure once you’ve gone over a lesson enough, they’ll want to keep crafting until you kick them out.”


    “Your modern corporate mindset is showing,” returned Sarah. “Should I also ensure they only work a five-day week?”


    “That’s up to you,” replied Amdirlain, and she smiled teasingly. “You did like to crack a whip.”


    “Oh, very funny,” huffed Sarah, although her theme skipped cheerfully.


    Sarah bumped shoulders with her as Amdirlain stopped at the bottom of the veranda’s steps. “Kids are coming to visit, and you’ve figured out why you were jealous. Relax, this should be fun.”‘


    When their guests arrived in the courtyard, they landed in a neat row with the three children book-ended between their parents; Laleither gave the suddenly nervous Lospen a nudge.


    “May the night’s music grant you ease, Lady Am, Sarah,” said Lospen. “Thank you for inviting us to see you.”


    “May the sun’s song keep you well, Lospen. I’m pleased to meet you,” replied Amdirlain. “Your father has told me about all of you. Please call me Am while you’re visiting here.”


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    Sarah gave a reserved smile for the formality.


    “We’re aware your full name is to be shared only with those you trust fully,” said Lospen, gesturing for Rainith and Nordil to step forward. Nordil promptly hid behind Rainith, only to find Amdirlain could easily see him over his sister’s shoulder.


    “There is no song from you,” Nordil whispered.


    “I know that must be strange,” said Amdirlain. She knelt before them so her eyes were closer to their level, and the girl shifted position so her brother couldn’t hide. “You’re Rainith, and your brother is Nordil. Is that correct?”


    “Yes. You don’t look like an Anar,” observed Rainith.


    Here, I can stick to the truth.


    “I’m not,” replied Amdirlain. “I’m a Fallen.”


    Rainith’s brow furrowed briefly. “I’m sorry if that was rude. That’s because you’re trapped like my sister was?”


    “In a way, but it’s a different trap,” explained Amdirlain.


    “Can we help you get free like you helped Erwarth?” inquired Rainith, and her words continued in a rush. “That is once we’re old enough to get our classes. I want to create life on planets and Father said that will help you get stronger and you’ll get free when you’re stronger. Mother says you asked for help to grow, and some people were stupid, so you left.”


    The jump in topics was understandable, but Amdirlain found how much Laleither had shared with a child, not even in her teens, surprising.


    Gail was precocious. Is that typical for all Anar and Lóm?? Hearing the surrounding songs would challenge and stimulate their developing minds.


    “It was a rough day for me, and perhaps I could have done better,” allowed Amdirlain. “However, they seemed fixated on who I’d been in a past life.”


    “They got sent away because they let bitterness sour their songs, not because of your actions,” declared Rainith. She dug into a dimensional pouch at her belt and carefully pulled out a tiny potted pink rose. “Mother said I could bring you a gift, but it will need replanting since the pot’s too small for the rosebush to reach full size. It’s grown from a cutting from my favourite bush near our house, and I hope it gives you many flowers over the years. I don’t know if they’ll be the same colour because elements in the soil cause differences.”


    “I do have space for a garden around the courtyard here,” noted Amdirlain. “We’ll pick a spot together later. Is the soil in the pot from near the original plant’s base?”


    “It is,” Rainith nodded excitedly and glanced at the closest doors. “Father says your house is massive on the inside and confuses people.”


    “Gosh, that’s terrible of me,” replied Amdirlain. “Do you think your brother might talk to me?”


    “Lospen will, but Nordil seems to be going through a phase and hasn’t talked to many people besides Gail lately,” sighed Rainith. “He used to talk endlessly, and he’ll likely be over it soon enough.”


    Her brother gave Rainith a sharp tap on the shoulder and cupped his hand over his mouth to whisper in her ear. “She has pretty hair.”


    “From him, that means your hair is gorgeous,” Rainith remarked. “Like you’re supposed to pretend you can’t hear what he said. I guess it’s part of the phase.”


    Amdirlain kept a straight face. “He spoke to you. You’re very privileged.”


    “It’s a burden, but I’ll manage,” sighed Rainith. “Unless you’d like to trade him in or adopt me?”


    Her brother growled in protest and poked her side before trying to hide behind her again.


    “Nordil, stop it! You’ve got bony fingers,” scolded Rainith. Stepping away from her brother, she danced around him until he was face to face with Amdirlain. His bright gaze went from her lips to the points of her ears before returning to her fringe.


    “How are you finding the songs around here?” asked Amdirlain, directing the question to all three children.


    “I like the music in your hall. The themes of the many humans sound so frantic and quick,” replied Lospen. “The immortals among them sound like mature oak trees trying to stabilise a swirling tide.”


    That’s fair.


    Rainith scrunched her face up in consideration. “Very martial, but not exactly. It’s not like listening to the knights’ practice yard. Disciplined, perhaps that’s the right word.”


    “The music rushes through their bodies and out through their hands into posts!” blurted Nordil. “Do all humans do that?”


    “It’s called Ki,” advised Amdirlain. “Some humans can tap into their life reserves and help that energy grow.”


    “Huh?” grunted Nordil. “Weird.”


    “I can do it too,” added Amdirlain.


    “Yep, weird.”


    Laleither glanced at Roher, her gaze twinkling with the amusement that echoed in her theme.


    “Nordil,” squealed Rainith. “Take that back at once. I was wrong. Go back to not talking, please!”


    “How can I take it back if I’m not supposed to talk?” questioned Nordil. “Decide.”


    “Has your phase passed?” asked Amdirlain reassuringly.


    Nordil looked down at his feet and shrugged broadly. “We’re not staying long, so I need to speak up now.”


    “Because if it has, you could tell me about living in the forest,” continued Amdirlain.


    “Your hair looks like the dawn. Reds and oranges are nice,” observed Nordil. “They’re warm colours. Will you need a Knight? I want to be a Knight like those Mother trains.”


    “Your people need protectors, so being a Knight is good,” said Amdirlain.


    “What about you?” murmured Nordil.


    “I don’t know where I’ll be when you’re old enough to become a Knight,” replied Amdirlain. “Would you like a drink and some treats?”


    Nordil grinned. “May I introduce you to my parents, Lady Am?”


    “Oh, please don’t be formal,” protested Amdirlain. “Just Am will do, plus I’ve already met them.”


    Nordil looked up at her with innocent eyes and pouted. “Knights are formal.”


    “True, please forgive me then,” Amdirlain replied contritely. “But you don’t need to be formal with family, do you?”


    Laleither restored her composed expression, but Roher didn’t bother maintaining a facade, not even trying to hide his broad grin.


    Nordil held out a hand to take Amdirlain’s. “I don’t get to do introductions?”


    Way too cute.


    “Not today,” said Amdirlain. Flowing to her feet, she stooped so he could hold her hand.


    Nordil let out a woebegone sigh. “I can lift my hand higher. You’ll look funny walking that way.”


    “It’s okay. I’m not worried about how I look,” reassured Amdirlain. “Or you could ride on my shoulders.”


    The proposal earned a dignified head shake, and he ignored Amdirlain’s pout with an aloof head lift.


    Sarah chuckled, drawing Rainith’s attention.


    Laleither stepped close to Amdirlain and exchanged a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”


    Her hand touched Nordil’s shoulder lightly as she spoke.


    “Hello, Auntie Sarah,” chirped Rainith. “Gail said we should call you that when we met you.”


    “Oh, did she?” drawled Sarah. “I’ll have to remember that when I next see that young lady.”


    “I imagine Gail won’t be far behind us. She returned to the forest earlier today but was dealing with a few matters,” Roher said. “She also has to let some more people know about the success of her clean-up work.”


    “She was here earlier and shared her news. I imagine that will take pressure off other species, which will have flow-on effects,”


    Roher nodded. “There are reports of an increase in hobgoblins around elven lands.”


    Nordil tugged at Roher’s sleeve. “Sarah doesn’t sound like a Dragon.”


    Yep, it seems he is over his non-talking phase.


    Sarah crouched beside him and offered her hand. “What’s wrong with how I sound?”


    “Are you Shindraithra?” murmured Nordil shyly.


    “Most people call me Sarah. Has Gail been telling tales?” laughed Sarah, her eyes turned briefly into red-faceted gems before returning to their usual dark hue.


    Nordil went wide-eyed and nodded jerkily. “You’re a Dragon! Your song sounds strange, like parts are missing.”


    “I’ve protections from Orhêthurin that have persisted across lives,” explained Sarah.


    The questioning glance Nordil directed at Amdirlain earned him a light tap on the forehead from Rainith.


    “What?!” squawked Nordil, putting a hand over his nose to prevent his sister from tapping him again.


    “Don’t attribute past life actions,” critiqued Rainith.


    “Oops,” hissed Nordil.


    “Rainith, it’s still not proper to hit your brother,” Roher corrected.


    “Sorry,” muttered Rainith.


    “But I’ve got pretty red diamond scales,” said Sarah reassuringly. “I thought you liked warm reds.”


    “I do,” agreed Nordil. “Can I see your scales? I wouldn’t expect a ride. That’s not something dragons do. Or is it?”


    “It takes an exceptional relationship before a Dragon lets another fly on their back,” confirmed Sarah.


    Nordil’s shoulders slumped. “That’ll need more than just singing them lots of pretty songs, won’t it?”


    “Yes,” replied Sarah, holding out her hands. “Why don’t you all come inside? Maybe I’ll show off my proper form to Nordil before you go.”


    Nordil nodded enthusiastically and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. He didn’t so much as bestow Amdirlain an apologetic look before he released her hand and jumped over to Sarah.


    ‘Dragons win every time,’ projected Amdirlain.


    ‘Typical five-year-old in some things, just after the biggest shiny,’ returned Sarah.


    Sarah scooped Nordil up with a grin, and he held on with his legs hooked around her waist and his arms about her neck.


    “Does this count as riding?” asked Nordil.


    “No, this just counts as getting a lift,” replied Sarah.


    His gaze grew concerned. “Like your dinner?”


    “I wouldn’t eat you,” reassured Sarah, and when Nordil sighed dramatically, she continued. “You’re too tiny to be worth the bother.”


    “You wouldn’t eat me. Auntie Gail would be grumpy with you,” huffed Nordil.


    As Lospen’s shoulders shook silently, he rolled his eyes at Nordil’s antics.


    Sarah huffed with mock disdain. “I knew Gail when she was even smaller than you.”


    “That’s because she’s young as well,” laughed Nordil.


    “At least you didn’t comment on my age,” said Sarah.


    “Why would I do that? Father says your memories make him seem like a Human toddler,” Nordil replied. “That makes you old!”


    Sarah shot Roher a flat look. “Thanks, Roher.”


    “You’re welcome, Sarah,” replied Roher drily.


    Amdirlain kept a straight face and mentally projected Sarah’s earlier reassurance. ‘This should be fun. Right?’


    As Amdirlain went to move forward, Rainith claimed her hand. “May I?”


    The spike of jealousy speared upwards, but Amdirlain slid Phoenix’s Rapture in place, and it smacked fruitlessly against the Mental Hardening, unable to affect her emotions. “Okay.”


    Sarah led the way, and Lospen moved up on the other side of Rainith.


    When the training hall doors opened, Nordil cooed at the platforms. “Pretty. Why couldn’t I hear them until the doors opened?”


    “It’s the nature of the chamber,” hedged Amdirlain.


    “They sound like Sarah,” noted Nordil.


    “You’ve got sharp ears,” replied Sarah.


    “Mother says I’ve got a knack,” replied Nordil proudly.


    Laleither’s relaxed smile matched the relief in her theme.


    Was she worried?


    The little boy twitched his head back and forth, taking in the gleaming gemstone. “Did you make all this?”


    Sarah smiled and tapped his nose. “I’ve got powers that allow me to work with metals and minerals.”


    “That makes sense, since you’re a living diamond,” replied Nordil.


    “Who told you that?” asked Sarah.


    Nordil waved a hand vaguely about. “Gail.”


    “That’s not quite true, and you’re simplifying her explanation,” stated Rainith. “Gail said your flesh possesses diamond hardness, and you don’t have blood like us, but a liquid crystal gel that efficiently transmits Mana.”


    Sarah looked back and winked at Rainith. “Well done.”


    When they went up to the first level of the platforms, Sarah sat beside Amdirlain, and Rainith hurried to claim the seat on the other side of Amdirlain. Rainith’s body language telegraphed her intention to ask something, so Amdirlain turned her attention to the young girl.


    “Father says you looked like an Anar yesterday,” declared Rainith as the others selected chairs around the table.


    Amdirlain raised an eyebrow and regarded her. “Is what I look like important?”


    “You’re the oldest,” said Rainith, as if that explained everything.


    What do I tell the kid; that I’m not alive, per se, or humour her?


    “It’s not a form I’m normally comfortable taking,” explained Amdirlain.


    Rainith frowned, “You came to the forest as an Anar yesterday.”


    “I’ve got an ability that sometimes warns me of moments of importance approaching,” explained Amdirlain. “One of those moments was yesterday, and I felt it was necessary to adopt the form even if I wasn’t completely comfortable.”


    Rainith frowned briefly, but nodded. “So it’s like when Mother leaves us in someone else’s care when she goes to teach. You did something you didn’t want to do because it was important.”


    “Teaching is a responsibility,” agreed Amdirlain. “Even if you enjoy it, sometimes you might still prefer to be doing something else,”


    “Okay,” allowed Rainith. “Sorry if I was being rude. I didn’t understand why you didn’t want to look like us.”


    “I’m not rejecting you,” reassured Amdirlain. “It’s simply that our situation is different.”


    Rainith sighed. “None of the grown-ups in the forest look like us except Gail.”


    The genuine worry in Rainith’s theme prompted Amdirlain, and she let Orhêthurin’s appearance come forth.


    Amdirlain waved a hand towards her face. “This isn’t me. This is how Orhêthurin looked. My lack of similarity doesn’t lessen you, Rainith. Sarah pointed out to me that it’s not who we were in past lives, but our special uniqueness in this one that matters. You’ll forever be unique, but that’s a hard lesson. I’ve been having to put a lot of effort into understanding that one and not comparing myself. It’s not how you look on the outside that matters but the state of your Soul. So you tell me, does it matter how I look? Does it matter that none of the adults look like you?”


    With that, Amdirlain changed back to her Wood Elf form.


    “You told people your song was ugly,” declared Rainith.


    “It is because of my curse, Rainith,” advised Amdirlain. “I’ve endured a lot to break free, and I can feel the echoes of it in my flesh right now. Whereas I’m used to filtering it out, removing the concealments would make my presence extremely unpleasant, and my Charisma would magnify their effect. So much so that I’m a risk to mortals if I don’t conceal the auras.”


    “How much of a risk?”


    Amdirlain sighed. “Too much. Even this form I picked out of fear of what people would think of me.”


    “What do you mean?”


    “I picked this form in response to provocations from the demonic shell I was trapped in originally and the fact I was an outsider without knowledge of the local Human customs,” explained Amdirlain. “After all, an Elf not knowing the way of humans and acting oddly is hardly surprising.”


    “That sounds like a very mixed reason to pick a form,” noted Rainith.


    “True,” replied Amdirlain. “I’m still working out who I am, but for many people, this Wood Elf form is the one they’ve always seen me in, so I continue to use it.”


    “Do past choices always remove future choices?”


    “There is an old saying: one door closes, and another door opens,” replied Amdirlain. “Life is like that. Even when you’ve made a wrong choice, you live with the consequences, but you can look for the next opportunity and try to do better.”


    “Like we should do?” asked Rainith. “Is that the same with the chance to resume working on the worlds the Titan needs? Or is that going back through a door that has closed in the past?”


    Laleither rested a hand reassuringly on Rainith’s shoulder.


    “The Titan never dismissed the Anar or Lóm? from doing the work,” explained Amdirlain. “Generations decided they wouldn’t return to working on it. And some of this generation seems to have decided that they will.”


    “As the tales say, Lady Orhêthurin never stopped working for the Titan. None of us believes he would reject our aid, but we must be brave enough to take the first step,” said Laleither.


    Rainith nodded.


    “Will you teach me?” asked Rainith. “Teach all the Anar?”


    Amdirlain hesitated, and Rainith’s shoulders slumped.


    “You don’t need me to teach you the fundamentals of singing,” advised Amdirlain. “Once you are ready to pick your classes, I’ll teach you True Song. You should know that Gail would likely be a far better teacher.”


    Rainith vigorously shook her head. “Gail said the same about you. Will you teach us, please?”


    “Okay,” replied Amdirlain. “I’ll do my best to ensure I can teach you when you’re ready to learn, but that’s the best I can do.”


    “You won’t promise?” questioned Rainith.


    Could I stop myself from promising by making a promise never to promise anything again? Promises should not bind me the same way now, but will they in the future?


    Amdirlain smiled sadly. “I do not know what the future will bring. While I’d love to make that commitment, I’ve still got enemies to deal with and places I need to travel. My schedule can get unpredictable even without those planes’ weird impact.”


    “Weird in what way?” persisted Rainith.


    “Let’s just say the flow of time behaves oddly,” advised Amdirlain. “Hopefully, I don’t ever get stuck in a temporal pocket, but I don’t want you waiting for me to teach you and refuse to learn the basics from someone else.”


    “You can’t hear it going wrong?”


    “The Primordial depths of the Abyss constantly flux around me. It’s an effort to stabilise it enough that I can make a Gate out of the highest levels. I don’t know what it will be like deeper in,” advised Amdirlain.


    Nordil leaned around Sarah to look nervously between them.


    Roher touched Rainith’s shoulder. “Leave it for now, Rainith. Let’s talk about it when we’re at home. Sorry Am, this is the first time she’s raised this concern.”


    “It’s alright. Hopefully, I’ll be able to help them all when they’re older,” reassured Amdirlain, and she gently touched Rainith’s forearm. “Is that okay?”


    Rainith sighed and gave a half-hearted smile. "Since you won’t promise."


    “Promises caused Orhêthurin issues, so I’m avoiding them,” advised Amdirlain. “I’ll make the best effort I can, and that’s all I’ll commit to. What do you think of my home? I bet it seems pretty stark and bland compared to the forest.”


    “It’s so big inside. Did you sing the expansion?”


    “Yes, I sang the enchantments into place,” agreed Amdirlain.


    “And what are the oozy things behind the glass plate downstairs?” questioned Rainith. “They sound like something from a heavenly Plane.”


    I don’t have to tell her where the blank souls come from, just their purpose.


    “Let me tell you about the Celestial slimes that I’m trying to teach how to drive constructs,” said Amdirlain.


    As the conversation continued, Amdirlain felt the jealous spikes within her ease.