Luciole's Fall
Luciole heard it as a skittering, chittering sound at first.
“…I’m sorry, one moment.” The Aasimar muttered as she clenched her eyes shut, shaking her head as if percussive maintenance would bring clarity. Ahnda, Luciole’s guiding spirit, spoke up.
“I said, you need to come clean. We can deal with the fallout when it comes, but don’t give into decei-.” Then, it was the sound of a thousand murmurings, psychic interference that threatened to warp the mind. That was cut through by hoarse yelling.
“WELL?!” The man – a gnome named Hobbles, a few decades beyond his prime – demanded. “WHERE IS SHE?!”
The Aasimar again shut her eyes to the irate man in front of her, unable to meet his gaze. Another who had fallen for a shape-shifted Alu-fiend. How was she, a paladin who had freshly taken her oath, supposed to break the news that the person most important to this man was not only dead by her own hands, but had never loved him in the first place? Luciole steeled herself, and opened her mouth before her eyes.
“Luna... is dead. She was an Alu-fiend. I’m sorry.” Luciole choked out, half plate clanking as her shoulders slumped.
“SHE-…She…” Hobbles similarly deflated. “But…”
“Well done.” Ahnda said mentally, and the chittering in the back of Luciole’s mind faded. Luciole took a deep breath. Then she let it out. This too, will pass.
“I’m… thank you. We were going to get married. That could have been… thank you.” The gnome said, voice choked with emotion. Luciole could only offer a small, strained smile.
“Oniron be with you.” Luciole offered, before taking her leave to let the man begin the process of grieving.
That night, when the armor and weapons had been discarded, Luciole lay in her bunk, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t tell the whole truth.” She murmured to herself. “You told what was needed. Mercy is a form of charity.” Ahnda advised. Luciole frowned, unsure. But the day had taken its toll on her, emotionally and physically. She trusted her guide, and she had been wrong before. “Thank you, Ahnda.” “Of course. I’d hardly be worthy of guiding if I couldn’t steer you to the right place.” “Yeah yeah, just accept the thanks. Good night.” “Good night, Luciole.”
When Luciole returned to that same town, a little settlement close to the Broadcrag-Unity-Omen’an border in the Frontier, the reception was cold. Hobbles gave her a cold, hurt stare, and the other townsfolk similarly held her in poor regard. The simply refused to speak to her. “Why are they doing this? What happened?!” Luciole asked inward. “It must be some misunderstanding.” Ahnda prognosticated. “If you want to bring these people peace, you’ll have to… mollify them.” “How? They aren’t saying a word to me!” “This is clearly about Luna in some capacity. If they believe she was plotting to corrupt their village, they may understand why such drastic measures were necessary.” “But we don’t know that. I can’t lie to them.” “Alu-fiends always do, given time. And you need to bring this village peace.” Luciole was stupefied. “You… are telling me… to lie to them for their peace?” She asked carefully, as if the suggestion was blasphemous. “Of course not. We’re giving them mercy, until they can see the full reality.” Ahnda assured. “Trust me.” Luciole wavered, and as she did, a migraine mounted from nothing, causing her to wince and hold her head. “Fine, fine, I’ll trust you. But why has my head been hurting recently?” “We’re near Omen’an. You’re an aasimar. Your righteousness is being rejected.” Ahnda explained smoothly. “The sooner you help these people, the sooner it will stop.” He urged. Luciole took a deep breath, and set off to do just that. First, she found Hobbles. He did not speak, staring hatefully at her until she finished her ‘hypothesis’. Then he deflated, and apologized for holding onto the spite. The man joined her, helping clear up Luciole’s deeds to the other townsfolk. By nightfall, the village had forgiven her, and Luciole left with a clear conscience.
Months later, a bloodied and battered Luciole screamed in agony as another burst of flame scorched her face. The source of it, a horned devil, cackled cruelly, delighting in the misery. “Why can’t I smite it?!” Luciole demanded, as yet another desperate strike barely left a mark on the devil, who had taken to simply allowing the blows to land in a display of absolute dominance. “Your faith has been wavering.” Ahnda explained. “For months, you have argued my every instruction, ignored the good it has brought. If you want to live, if you want to kill this thing, reaffirm yourself to my guidance, as an extension of Oniron’s will!” Backed into a proverbial corner, Luciole closed her eyes, muttering to herself even through the gout of fire that struck her once more. “I will follow you, forever chase charity, forever seek surety, and forever teach tru-” Her vow was cut off by a scream of agony as her mind lit aflame just as her body had. Luciole suddenly sprouted wings, but not the wings of a protector; the skeletal wings of the forsaken. An aura of festering energy washed out from her rather than the holy burst she expected. With no time to process the difference, she lashed out, easily overwhelming and vanquishing the devil.
In Goldenlight, a guiding spirit stood before Oniron, shame and confusion laden in his voice. “I don’t know what happened. Ever since that incident with the Alu-fiend, Luna, Luciole never listened to me again. She ignored my every instruction, every warning, often twisting the words out of spite!” “You have done what you could, Ahnda.” Oniron assured, a rare frown on his face. “Luciole was caught by the web.” “The web?” “Shi’para is not my only antithesis, Ahnda. The Weaver of Lies has caught her, and supplanted you in the process.” “The-” Ahnda stumbled over his words, unable to speak. “Don’t bother attempting to say it; none of the celestials under my command can utter its name.” Oniron smiled at Ahnda supportively. “And when you leave Goldenlight, you will forget it, just as you have in the past.” Ahnda was thunderstruck. “So, when she told the gnome man that she had killed Luna out of spite, and later on returned to threaten the city with inquisition if they spoke about it…” “All the Weaver’s words, spoken through her voice. She believes she followed you faithfully, even now, even as she has fallen.” Oniron confirmed. “That’s why she responded to the yelling with a smile, and why she strayed from her path.” Ahnda fell silent, reeling from the news. He hadn’t lost Luciole just now, while she carved her way through the Wretched. No, he had lost her all those months ago, when she told her first lie to Hobbles. He had simply been fooled himself, believing he still could reach Luciole. “Rest now, you’ve done what you could.” Oniron said warmly, washing away the guilt that threatened to envelop Ahnda. He continued speaking, knowing the futility of it but saying so on principle; after all, he was the God of surety. “But if you ever hear chittering again, don’t try to banish it alone. Come to me.”
That night, when the armor and weapons had been discarded, Luciole lay in her bunk, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t tell the whole truth.” She murmured to herself. “You told what was needed. Mercy is a form of charity.” Ahnda advised. Luciole frowned, unsure. But the day had taken its toll on her, emotionally and physically. She trusted her guide, and she had been wrong before. “Thank you, Ahnda.” “Of course. I’d hardly be worthy of guiding if I couldn’t steer you to the right place.” “Yeah yeah, just accept the thanks. Good night.” “Good night, Luciole.”
When Luciole returned to that same town, a little settlement close to the Broadcrag-Unity-Omen’an border in the Frontier, the reception was cold. Hobbles gave her a cold, hurt stare, and the other townsfolk similarly held her in poor regard. The simply refused to speak to her. “Why are they doing this? What happened?!” Luciole asked inward. “It must be some misunderstanding.” Ahnda prognosticated. “If you want to bring these people peace, you’ll have to… mollify them.” “How? They aren’t saying a word to me!” “This is clearly about Luna in some capacity. If they believe she was plotting to corrupt their village, they may understand why such drastic measures were necessary.” “But we don’t know that. I can’t lie to them.” “Alu-fiends always do, given time. And you need to bring this village peace.” Luciole was stupefied. “You… are telling me… to lie to them for their peace?” She asked carefully, as if the suggestion was blasphemous. “Of course not. We’re giving them mercy, until they can see the full reality.” Ahnda assured. “Trust me.” Luciole wavered, and as she did, a migraine mounted from nothing, causing her to wince and hold her head. “Fine, fine, I’ll trust you. But why has my head been hurting recently?” “We’re near Omen’an. You’re an aasimar. Your righteousness is being rejected.” Ahnda explained smoothly. “The sooner you help these people, the sooner it will stop.” He urged. Luciole took a deep breath, and set off to do just that. First, she found Hobbles. He did not speak, staring hatefully at her until she finished her ‘hypothesis’. Then he deflated, and apologized for holding onto the spite. The man joined her, helping clear up Luciole’s deeds to the other townsfolk. By nightfall, the village had forgiven her, and Luciole left with a clear conscience.
Months later, a bloodied and battered Luciole screamed in agony as another burst of flame scorched her face. The source of it, a horned devil, cackled cruelly, delighting in the misery. “Why can’t I smite it?!” Luciole demanded, as yet another desperate strike barely left a mark on the devil, who had taken to simply allowing the blows to land in a display of absolute dominance. “Your faith has been wavering.” Ahnda explained. “For months, you have argued my every instruction, ignored the good it has brought. If you want to live, if you want to kill this thing, reaffirm yourself to my guidance, as an extension of Oniron’s will!” Backed into a proverbial corner, Luciole closed her eyes, muttering to herself even through the gout of fire that struck her once more. “I will follow you, forever chase charity, forever seek surety, and forever teach tru-” Her vow was cut off by a scream of agony as her mind lit aflame just as her body had. Luciole suddenly sprouted wings, but not the wings of a protector; the skeletal wings of the forsaken. An aura of festering energy washed out from her rather than the holy burst she expected. With no time to process the difference, she lashed out, easily overwhelming and vanquishing the devil.
In Goldenlight, a guiding spirit stood before Oniron, shame and confusion laden in his voice. “I don’t know what happened. Ever since that incident with the Alu-fiend, Luna, Luciole never listened to me again. She ignored my every instruction, every warning, often twisting the words out of spite!” “You have done what you could, Ahnda.” Oniron assured, a rare frown on his face. “Luciole was caught by the web.” “The web?” “Shi’para is not my only antithesis, Ahnda. The Weaver of Lies has caught her, and supplanted you in the process.” “The-” Ahnda stumbled over his words, unable to speak. “Don’t bother attempting to say it; none of the celestials under my command can utter its name.” Oniron smiled at Ahnda supportively. “And when you leave Goldenlight, you will forget it, just as you have in the past.” Ahnda was thunderstruck. “So, when she told the gnome man that she had killed Luna out of spite, and later on returned to threaten the city with inquisition if they spoke about it…” “All the Weaver’s words, spoken through her voice. She believes she followed you faithfully, even now, even as she has fallen.” Oniron confirmed. “That’s why she responded to the yelling with a smile, and why she strayed from her path.” Ahnda fell silent, reeling from the news. He hadn’t lost Luciole just now, while she carved her way through the Wretched. No, he had lost her all those months ago, when she told her first lie to Hobbles. He had simply been fooled himself, believing he still could reach Luciole. “Rest now, you’ve done what you could.” Oniron said warmly, washing away the guilt that threatened to envelop Ahnda. He continued speaking, knowing the futility of it but saying so on principle; after all, he was the God of surety. “But if you ever hear chittering again, don’t try to banish it alone. Come to me.”
Due to the nature of this story, it cannot be written down. Any attempt to do so has failed in what appears to be a series of unfortunate events. Inkwells, even bottomless ones, dry out before the words can be written, etchings in the dirt are shaken by sudden earthquakes or obscured by a random, strong gust of wind, stone tablets fracture and break, and spells fail. It is only recounted orally, and the story changes a little each time; names, locations, the title, even entire passages vary. This is only one version of the story, and there will never be another like it.
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