"It still doesn't quite feel real, does it?" Piped up the childlike voice of the halfling, made somber by the bleak sight beyond the balcony window. 

All they received was a resigned grunt from their peer. "Hmm." Nodded the elf, always one of few words. 

Down below them was the monument to those of the University and cathedral that had fallen in the war. A ceremonial graveyard, littered with white headstones in their neat rows and at the centre a statue representing the clerics and healers that had fallen in the conflict. Humans, elves, halflings and dwarfs made immortal in alabaster stone and locked in their various movements of action and care. The Lady Aela had closed the borders to those looking for violence, declaring neutrality and offering succor to those who found their way to Shan'Rael looking for peace. Yet that had not stopped her own citizens from joining the fray. 

Students of both the divine university's schools had seen it as their sworn duty to leave their homes and putt heir talents to use. Some wandered wherever they thought they were needed, others joined the armies of the side that suited their own philosophical or political leanings. None were able to avoid being caught up in the violence. The gardens around the campus were locked in the beauty of a near perpetual summer and yet even they could not hide the morbid reminder of all those they had lost. Everyone who passed was often heard to comment something along the lines of "Too many stones." When they saw the graveyard. And still it only represented those who had died to the war, others had still come home scarred and wounded in horrible ways both inside and out. Shan'Rael and the world would feel these effects for generations to come. 

And so it fell to the two heads of the medicus and clergy to see that their institution got back on its feet. Perhaps if they lead the way the country would follow. The two had spent days at work on plans and schemes that might be able to get things starting and now they stood ready. Ready to stop simply patching up the old wounds and issues and to take on a more aggressive form of treatment. 

Melanie Westwick, a matronly halfling, raised along the country banks of an estuary of the Salren had brought herself up to be the chief academic of the university and head of the medicus faculty. Her red curls had gone short and grey with age but her crinckled eyes and easy smile gave her the universal charm that made her a surrogate mother to many a first year sick for home. Now here should stood, agreeing and ready to contact the Shan'Rael military and to begin training the soldiers in surgery. She would have been lying if she claimed the idea of such rough company did not intimidate her. 

She wasn't without her own training though. The elf by her side was terse company at the best of times and even he was capable of offering the tiny matriarch polite company thanks to her efforts. Llyr was the most senior member of Aela's clergy since the death of the elderly high priest. Now he held the duty of care over the white flame and the mages it inspired within the cathedral hall. Yet he was still to give his first sermon, something no one could imagine the taciturn elf doing. He had been a quiet sort before the war and sine coming back Melanie could see a dark pit of sorrow and anger behind his eyes. A thing only made more frightening by the severe scars that slashed across the lower half of his once pristine face. Something Llyr could have easily made disappear with his magic and yet seemed to choose not to. 

"I shall visit The Canvas before sunrise." He said bluntly. "They will find time for me at some point." That was the first step on the church's road to recovery. Though the pale mages may have had faith in their new leader the public were in need of spiritual strength and Llyr would have to learn the art of rhetoric if he was to fulfill his role. 

They had direction now at least, and yet Melanie could not help but sigh. "It would be so much easier if The Lady were here." 

But that was not in the cards... no mortal had seen Aela since the end of the war. The mages and priests insisted she had not fallen, as did her fellow gods. Wherever she was, Aela did not care for mortal eyes to find her.

*****

The birds never failed to sing outside the cottage window. The wind was always polite enough to offer a gentle tune to go along with it. IT was nice background noise as Aela sat down to her tea. Lazily she sipped on the hot brew as her fingers dances across the surface of the crystal contents of the bowl. 

Her energy had left her completely today, she couldn't even muster the energy to go for a walk around her cottage's hidden grounds. For now she was just content to go on looking into the bowl of clear water, conjuring images of the world at large in an attempt to entertain herself.Mortals went about their lives in what looked like the usual routine. The university was back its usual buzz of activity. Even the many theatres around her lands were once again full of actors strutting the boards, it was sights like that made her wish these waters could give sound. 

The city of fire must have been holding a party or something for how many of the other pantheon members were flying over its skies. For a moment Aela's numbness was broken by the pride she felt for her daughter. She'd taken on the task of carving out her own identity and way of doing things in her father's old realm and bring order back to the chaos that had been left in his absence. 

[i]'Now what's happening over there... are the vultures gathering?[/i] Probably, she thought. So many of them had shown sides of themselves in the war they'd no doubt have preferred to keep hidden. No doubt they were all trying to gather power and support for their own attempts for the throne. 

They'd never have dared if Ephra was still alive, for all his faults only Thatos had to courage to actually try for it, to stand for his belief despite the horrible odds. Aela may not have agreed with him most of the time but she could always respect his honesty. Only once he'd cleared the way did any of them dare... as if they could challenge Ephra's legacy. 

[i]'How would things be if this had never happened? I wonder what the two of them would be up to?[/i] 

Well what did it matter? None of them listened to her when things were truly dire. Whatever Aela tried now would do nothing now. 

Enough of that! She'd find something nice. And with a flick of her hand she commanded the water again. Let it show her Zareth, what was her little one up to? He'd left home a long time ago for something she couldn't help him with. Maybe he'd have better luck where he was now. 

*****

He was still getting used to being... [i]normal sized[/i]. 

Bracing his hood against the sand filled wind was a tough thing. Zareth already had to wear a hat so outlandish that the word ridiculous seemed quaint just to hide his horns from the pilgrims he'd joined. That on top of the strange shift in perspective was just jarring. Zareth had spent most of his life in the company of deities or giant monsters, he was too young to remember the day he was imbued with Aela's essence so his life was one spent literally looking down on the world as a towering demigod. Spending days at a time, shifting down to an average human's height was just bizarre and having to hide his horns along with it was more than a pain.   

But for some reason dozens of people were emigrating to the underworld. Why anyone would want to spend time in the land of the dead before their allotted time and how these people had found it was beyond him but Zareth had been looking for a way in for a long time and this was his best bet for now. 

Aela had been good to him, Zareth would never say otherwise and even Koritomo had been accepting of him despite some early awkwardness for her adopted sibling. Still... something had always been missing. A Question none of his family could answer and a feeling that had haunted him in Shan'Rael. Who were his parents, who were the one's that had left him behind on the river banks? As far as Aela could tell him Zareth was clearly half demon and judging by his pointed ears and lithe frame half elf. His working theory that his mother had made up the elven side of his heritage, it would have been near impossible for a demon to carry him and give birth unnoticed in Shan'Rael and so far he had had no luck finding her.

So perhaps he would have better luck searching for his father's side of the family. Aelas and Asmoday were supposed to be friends, she had often spoken fondly of the demon god. So maybe, just maybe, if Zareth found his way to the underworld in his travels then he could present himself to the resident king and find some help in tracking down the answers he was looking for.