A Memory on Memory

It had been only since the morning that she’d last knelt in worship of Lathander. It had been only minutes since the thought of him had crossed her thoughts. She’d gone inside to warm two pots of water, as requested by Eethyl, and she’d been staring into the flames, her mind bubbling as the water itself would soon be doing.
 
Partly, she was preoccupied with memories of the battle. By his light, it had been glorious. Keth had been a glory to behold, his natural prowess enhanced by Flicker’s magic. The druidess herself had been a force to be reckoned with. Not for the first time. But it was the first time Sef had seen her unleash such a tidal wave of destruction upon their foes. Amarille had looked as an angel amidst the orcs, with her wings unfurled. A furious, terrible angel. Wolf had certainly done his share of damage, and it made her think his name was apt, though instead of fang and claw he downed his prey with sword and arrow. And Eethyl…ah, that poor gnome. She’d had a difficult time keeping track of him. Once when she had glimpsed him, he’d been laid low. She’d not worried so badly about it only because Flicker had been near him.
 
As she sat, remembering, an odd thing started to happen. Different faces began imposing themselves over her friends. Keth’s orcish features warped until he looked merely human (Kelin). Flicker’s face melted, reformed, shaped into another’s more elven, more refined (Mairi).
It was unnerving, but she didn’t push away the thoughts and images.
 
Eethyl’s transformation came with his limbs stretched, his torso elongated, his ears pointed, even more than Flicker-Mairi’s. The beard shrank to reveal handsome but hard features. A true elf, a high elf. Different from Mairi. This was Sul. Sulonious Elverion. Such power with that one.
 
When she saw Wolf in her mind’s eye, he became different too. Shorter. More stout. Solid. Like he could push over a tree by himself. Owain. It was Owain, with similar red, wild hair. And when she saw Amarille morph into a human face with kinder eyes, it took her time to fetch the name. The woman she saw now smiled at her with warmth and compassion. And maybe…maybe something playful. Mischievous. “You know,” she heard not-Amarille say. She did. Of course she did.
 
“Jo,” she whispered, nearly choking on the sound. “Josette.”
 
“There’s one more,” Josette Desai told her, and Sef knew it was true. Who? Which one of them was missing? Kelin, Mairi, Sulonious, Owain, Josette and…and…
 
“Pari.” Another barely-there breath.
 
And then the vision exploded white, and her long-gone friends burned to ash, returning to memory. Her fingers twitched to reach out to them, but that was silly. This wasn’t real, even if it hurt like a fresh cut. In their place were her now-friends, just as they had been after the battle. Tired but victorious.
 
But then there was another explosion, this time black and green. This time more agonizing. It made her want to cry out to them, for them, but her voice was too thick and she couldn’t utter a sound.
 
For the better, really. Her eyes flew open and she breathed a gasp as if coming up from water. How long had it been? The one pot was boiling furiously. Quickly, she returned to herself, returned to the present, dashed off a tear from her cheek and exchanged the one pot with the other. Her heart raced. Fortunately no one was there to see her hands shake. They became steady after several calming breaths, when the task was done and she could come to kneel and cast her mind and heart to Lathander. It was how she might be found, no more unusual than any other time she could be found in prayer.