Veleria Garris.
Beside her, she watched Caed’s chest slowly rise and fall. After three steady breaths she left him. Outside, she walked down the dimly lit streets of Almor until she found the one who called her.
The Marrow of Night bowed before Veleria. Her hand extended, Veleria gently took it and allowed herself led outside of the city.
“Long ago, in another age, a witch given the name Bonecarver was born into a tribe that revered the night sky.” Marrow told her. “The name was ceremonial. She slayed others for their bones, and carved the desires of her people into them, made as offerings to Yvolene, the Night Mother. With time, that witch was made witness to the very goddess she served.”
The sudden crunching below her boots hardly reached her. They descended, although Veleria could not recall reaching a staircase. Or a slope.
“Her people were slaughtered, her land razed, and yet not once did Yvolene acknowledge them. Only, her newly cast Daughter of Night.”
They reached an altar, and only then did Veleria see her surroundings. She was brought to a cave of sorts. Each wall was packed with bones, both human and animal, all of which were carved with symbols she did not recognize. Some of them were tattooed on the witch before her.
At the altar, composed of both black stone and bleached, carved bone, Marrow stood with her arms outstretched in front of her.
“In truth, even for the one I swore fealty to, I feel so very little. Perhaps, she wished for Bonecarver to die, and for the Marrow of Night to serve her for eternity.” Her long nails cut into her palms. Blood dripped down onto the altar. “I have not forgotten my name, and I refuse to. Veleria…Orthenheim, before the Night Mother accepts my offering, please allow me to pray that you succeed in the coming conflict. Not to the night, but to the stars in the sky, and to the distant worlds that your kind once born witness to. Despite everything, I still wish for the wellbeing of this realm that I once cherished so dearly.”
Veleria remained silent. Before her, the woman suddenly dropped her head. Both of her arms were still outstretched, still dripping with her blood.
“That you perceive her tells one that Ezra completed his task,” said Marrow.
Her voice was different. Veleria was immediately on edge, as was Caellach as he stepped into her boots. She allowed him in without a second thought.
“What is it you want with us?” Caellach asked, his standing firm.
“A simple inquiry. What has Althalos Cromwell asked of you?”
Marrow did not turn. Still faced away from them, her head still hung, although her palms had run dry, Veleria wondered what kind of goddess would allow such treatment of their subjects.
“He has only asked that we assist him with Alk’Hath and the Korvach,” said Caellach. “A request that both Veleria and myself have agreed to.”
“Is that all?” Her voice echoed. There was a hint of anger behind it.
“Yes,” Caellach nodded.
“There will be another request.” The anger in her voice fizzled out. “Do not complete it.”
Marrow breathed in loudly as if she had been holding her breath, causing Caellach to take a step back.
“Please forgive me,” Marrow said through staggered breaths. “I cast a minor spell over you to ensure you would follow me here.”
“The gods of this realm have not changed,” Caellach shook his head. “You are forgiven. We will keep in mind what the Night Mother asked of us, but both Veleria and myself will choose our own agency.”
“That is all I can ask for.” She turned back towards them. “I will accompany you back to the tavern, but please, do not tell Adrian about this.”