Hope, meet Faith

by **Jilitse** on January 28th, 2011, 5:56 pm

Hope, meet Faith
43rd of Winter 510 AV
It's a travel thread!

The company was three big wagons, each carried by half a dozen horses. They have passed through the better part of Sylira's wildlands, and the earth was already whispering the boundaries of the region. Their path has carved south for many days with half their numbers rotating a schedule to ensure fast travel. A quarter of them were seasoned travelers, the wilderness guide was a man with many tattoos. A third were merchants, one of them her acquaintance.

She was her own group.

There was a certain awkwardness in her elegance, as if nobody else could be privy to her secrets. She wore a deep azure cloak, the color close to the sky during twilight. She was undead, that much they knew, but so far she had not exhibited any notable behavior that labeled her as evil. Perhaps it was the face she bore, a young woman with soft light eyes and shiny golden brown hair. Maybe it was the way she looked gentle and frail – like a butterfly. She was not very pretty, but her beauty was not of this world – the traces of death adding a certain allure to her quite sullen face. Nobody dared talk to her, because no matter the circumstance her race was never favored among the living.

Even the man who had agreed to be companion had distanced himself from her. He would occasionally talk with her, just to check – Did she need food, water? Did she get enough sleep? Did she feel tired from sitting in the wagon all day and night? After the first few days it finally rubbed in that the Nuit required less sustenance - or rather none at all - compared to the average human, and their conversations lessened, until they only exchanged meaningful glances time and again.

He met her in Syliras during the early days of fall. He had been asking for a sign from Yahal, and she was uttering a prayer to Priskil. "Help me find a way back home," he prayed to his racial god. And she, in whispers, "Help me find my way to the desert." It had been a busy day and many people were in the Temple. Still, it was as it Lhex himself had arranged for them to meet.

"You are bound to Eyktol?" He was the first to introduce himself. Although he was taken aback after realizing that she was undead, he felt like she was the one he was waiting for. She had timidly nodded, his accent was all too familiar. Jilitse had long ago served a man who hid his miserable lineage in the wizard community. When she asked if he was going to travel as well, he merely shrugged.

"I do know a caravan set to leave within a few days from now. I'll try to see what I can do to get us both to join them." She found herself a companion. At the very least they exchanged niceties. Jilitse of Sahova, meet Jasa'lah of Yahebah.

He had traveled beyond the edges of home to chase after wealth. He sought to bring prosperity back home. He never gave specifics, but he admitted that, so far, his quest had proved futile. He was ashamed of returning to his father as a failure. She pressed him to speak, asking small questions to pry into his reasons. Jilitse was somewhat skeptic of his offer of help, and she wanted to root out the reasons for his generosity. "What brought you so far away from home?"

"Faith," he had replied. She was unsatisfied with this answer, but the tone of his voice said that the answer ended there. At the very least she was able to get back at him later on. He asked her what would bring her so far away from the shelter of Syliras and she replied, "Hope."

They never did warm up to each other, but they had agreed that Jasa'lah would be paid 1gm for each day that he would be with her. He was modest enough to decline at first, and frank enough to say that it wouldn't suffice given the length and danger of the journey. Even without the honesty in between them, he had been kind enough to ensure her safety. He looked after her whenever he could. Perhaps the reason why they fell into camaraderie so easily stemmed in the fact that their personal deities were not strangers to each other. Still, the revelation had been short, without a lot of explanation. "Who were you praying to that day?" Jilitse had asked him one night, just before he turned his back on her after bidding leave to retire, "Yahal." His voice had been deep, as if the name of his lord weighed so much. In comparison, she breathed Priskil's name with a tiny smile. The shadows of doubt against one another diminished by a margin.

by **Jilitse** on January 29th, 2011, 2:49 pm

She held a certain wariness against other people. The rest of the company assumed that it was just about how Nuits are anti-social in general. But to Jilitse, who have found friends only to lose them time and again, the times she spent alone was dedicated to pondering about how many things have changed for her.

She was no longer a magician's apprentice, and by certain standards she was not fit to be called a mage. She was misplaced in this world, searching - forever searching - for the completion of her purpose. The constant self-reflection had brought her into an expansion of world view. Having been blinded by love her entire existence, it had been pretty hard at first. Her world no longer revolved around one man. These changes, which she needed to factor in, took a greater toll in her daily musings. She had strayed away from the pursuit of knowledge, in exchange for finding peace within her restless soul.

The same was happening to Jasa'lah. He had his own problems to face, own nightmares to conquer. Perhaps even without talking about one another's problems, Jasa'lah and Jilitse knew that they were both trying to win against private tribulations. There was already enough going on within their heads to even bother to share their feelings.

Eventually the opportunity to unload problems came to them one day.

The company was nearing their first destination, a city named Claridon. Half their numbers will stay behind, the rest will push onwards to Endrykas. The man with the tattoo brought up plans for travel. Although it was not needed, he delivered a short course on Endrykas' climate, differentiating it with Sylira. Jilitse listened intently. The horse clans of Cyphrus were constant customers of Sahova, but any other relationship or treaty was unknown to her. The Drykas guide was stoic and wise, just as calm and reserved as his Cyphrus Strider. His love for Caiyha's blessings over his region could not be concealed. He narrated the aesthetic pleasure one derives from seeing the sea of grass. For the Nuit, who had lived in a barren island for more than five centuries, hearing about a place with robust life and vegetation sounded so abysmally impossible. She had to see it with her own eyes! Although she bore a little excitement in changing terrains, Jilitse had been sensitive to the people in the company. With her hood pulled low, she would observe the members fulfill their duties. The guards stayed alert, the whole caravan was never left unguarded. No less than four warriors were always ready to fight, all of them have spent many days with their weapons. It bore no surprise to Jilitse when talk of slavers and bandits were murmured as a concern. She have had her own accident with such a group, just recently. He had been with a wilderness man named Jaeden Kincade, and together - mostly it was just Jaeden, his Kelvic Red, and his horse - they defeated a band of three. She was told that they were sorry bandits, men who worked with intimidation more than swords. It was the same day she was taught how to use a sickle, a weapon that she had left behind in Syliras. Her thoughts were filled with the Drykas' reminders and tips on surviving the road that they would take. All of his words were golden nuggets of wilderness knowledge for the Nuit - even if some were useless, as she had no need to learn how to spot rabbits or small game for food - and she took all of these into her memory. The Nuit had an inkling that the wilds beyond the border were more ferocious than she had ever seen. Well, hopefully, not ferocious enough to end her journey then and there.

The guide talked with them separately, and only then was Jilitse introduced to the Drykas. He was Aslode, and he knew Jasa'lah from his travels. Jilitse tried to see beyond the unusually calm face of Aslode, to try and pick up information about his relationship with Jasa'lah. There was nothing unusual, perhaps Aslonde was just a concerned guide. He was the best scout Jasa'lah had ever met, but Aslode claimed that any Drykas would be the best scout among other in the sea of grass. Still, praise was given to Jasa'lah, for braving the burning lands many times over. Maybe the Drykas was just returning the compliment, but when he praised the Benshira as someone with strong faith and a steel heart, Jilitse noticed the sadness in Jasa'lah's eyes. Humans, and the way they let themselves out with a slip of emotion.

At once, she reached out for the man's shoulders and lightly tapped it. An offer of consolation for a grieving she knew nothing about. Instead of pushing her away, Jasa'lah merely smiled at her.

Perhaps, he thought, it would only be fair to tell her his story.

by **Jilitse** on January 30th, 2011, 2:25 pm

Jilitse was busy observing the people in the camp that afternoon, as everybody shuffled about preparing for a day's rest. She had never participated in this activity, and even if she wanted to, the nuit was certain that the people in camp won't let her. After all, she might break a bone or injure a finger - and if any accident befall her frail figure, who knew if she was not beyond killing one of them for a replacement body? Even if her Benshiran friend had guaranteed the kindness of her soul, the fear of the undead was not one easily swayed out of people's minds.

And as such, like any other day, she was alone, standing on one corner, humming lightly to herself.

Jasa'lah had finished setting up their tent - he was quite an expert in these kind of things. Jilitse had long ago noted that the Benshiran was not a stranger to traveling, and traveling long distances for that matter. He was well prepared and he knew how to ration his supplies. As he approached her, the nuit stared at him. She never had the time to memorize his face. Now she had the opportunity to commit to memory the bushy brows that frown most of the time, the melancholic eyes, the thick curly hair, the rough sun-kissed skin. He had strength in him, but it didn't come any close to a muscle warrior. Jilitse knew he had a khopesh, but whether he knew how to actually use it was still a question.

"Hey there." He greeted, "Would you mind a little chat?"

He looked surprised, as if he did not expect Jilitse to answer "Sure, I wouldn't mind." And they fell into their usual silence. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the cool of winter was upon them. The weather was something to talk about. "It has been getting cold lately, hasn't it?" Jasa'lah asked, "How do you fare in this kind of weather?"

The Nuit's reply was succinct, "I am affected a little, but the abundance of clothes keep me warm..." She wore a robe on top of her clothes, a cloak on top of that and a coat on top of that. The weight was not favorable to her body in the long run. Still, her current visage was new and still had strength - but she did not want to risk too much burden upon it. "I am just not sure if I could hold out if it gets any colder. I don't want to chill to death." Her voice was and slow even. Truthfully, she had never experienced winter. She had been wondering whether the cold would slow down putrefaction or if she would freeze to death when they even cross Cyphrus.

The conversation was going well, a lot of silence but they had spoken more words to each other than they have for the past fortnight. "What about you?" Jilitse said, concern dully painted in her monotonous voice.

"I am accustomed to the heat." Jasa'lah said, shoulders square and eyes proud. "It could get really hot in the desert, the lands are scorching and the winds unkind. I had been away from home for a few years now, and I can't say I appreciate it."

Jilitse surprised the Benshiran by catching him off-guard, "You don't appreciate being away from home?" The play on words was just wit, but Jasa'lah did not answer back with humor. "Yes. The cold, and being away from home. Both are so unfamiliar."

"As Aslode had said, it was not very wise of us to travel through Cyphrus during winter," she told him. It was Jasa'lah who said that he could get them to Ahnatep by Spring's end if they left with the caravan running towards Claridon. The Nuit had the strangest feeling that Jasa'lah, not her, was the one who needed to get to Eyktol as soon as possible. She was about to prove herself right.

"But neither did you want to stay in Syliras any longer." He parried the accusation.

"Correct. We might as well stand the cold."

"Jilitse, If you do not mind me asking..."

She held up a hand and smiled at Jasa'lah. "Is it about the journey?" Jilitse continued without her companion answering. "As I have told you, I am traveling towards Eyktol because of hope. I would no more tell you why than what you would agree to share your story yourself."

There was a sheepish look on the man's face. He sighed as if he had been so tired. "I was expecting you to say that. But I think that, on lieu of traveling together, we should get to know each other a little more."

"You also find it hard to trust a stranger do you not?"

A nod, "Yes, but my faith in Yahal stays true." He looked rather serious, "It could not be coincidence that I met you on the very day that I had asked for a sign. I wanted to go back home, even if I have failed in my quest."

"A quest you say? Just exactly what kind?" An amused smiled broke on her lips.

"It is rather elaborate, I will try to put it into simple terms." Jasa'lah moved his eyes away from Jilitse, and stared away, far into the woods. "My family's livelihood rests greatly on the small arable land that Yahal had blessed us with. We have not had luck in the past three years, and our primitive farming methods could no longer heal the land. I traveled to Sylira in order to research this region's farming methods, hoping that I would learn and develop technology for us to use back home."

"Unfortunately," he revealed, "I fell in love with a woman, a merchant by the name of Hibby." He excluded a lengthy part of the story: having a relationship with a non-Beshira, a rakva, was enough of a sin to be disowned. "Two months into the relationship and she left me without any possession, taking both my money and heart with her." Jilitse watched him, noting the dryness of his voice and the hurt in his eyes. "I feel like I have betrayed my father and the task he had assigned me to. I was ashamed to go home."

"And what, if I may ask, would assisting me in my travel do good to you?" Jilitse wondered.

"Eventually I overcame the despair, I prayed hard to Yahal to deliver me from my shortcomings. I told you before, maybe it was fate that brought me to you. The timing could not have been more correct. I have finished the part-time job I had at a nearby farm in Syliras and saved up enough money to gain back quarter of the money I had. I didn't know where to go so I prayed to Yahal to give me a sign, and there you were, searching for a companion to Eyktol." He paused, voice croaking. Jilitse felt a pit in her chest, the Benshira's eyes were getting misty. "We had worked long and hard to save money in order to buy better machines for us to use. My father would not forgive me if he knew... my siblings who depended on me..."

"Is that the reason why you requested me to pay ahead of time? You were in short of gold."

"True. Whatever amount you would be adding to my savings would be of great help. I apologize if you found it rude, but I have decided to buy commodities in Ahnatep. At least I would not come home empty-handed." Jasa'lah apologized and said, "But if they learn about what had happened... I'm not sure if they will accept me back into the tent."

"It was nothing. I supposed that you just did not trust the reputation of an undead, but now that you have told me the story behind it, I understand. However, I do not think that they would shun you, you did not desire to be robbed." Jilitse said, not knowing that Jasa'lah had been forewarned by Yahal in a dream that Hibby would not do him any good. He misplaced his trust, ignored the warning of their god, and had a relationship with a ravka.

"Let us hope they would forgive me."

"Hold on to that. Priskil is kind to those who are sincere." Jilitse was surprised by the words that fell out of her mouth, but what did it matter? Didn't she promise to put her faith in the Goddess? It was reason enough to remind other people that there was something else to hold on to than despair.

He further twisted his neck, so that the tear that fell upon his cheek would go unnoticed. "Now it's your turn."

by **Jilitse** on February 10th, 2011, 6:23 am

The dark clouds gather, the night was falling unto the weary travelers. The Nuit and Benshira were away from the group, both of the outcasts in their own ways. Tonight as winter chilled their bones and hearts, they decided to converse the words that they have jailed in their minds. Well, not everything, but little by little.

Jilitse was not willing to share the entirety of her history. She was full aware, as a mage's suspicious heightened against one's own friend, that Jasa'lah may not be telling the truth. If he was, there was the doubt that he was keeping parts of it to himself. She was unlike Priskil who saw the good in everybody's hearts, not even faith could wear away what the mind had been accustomed to for many years.

A Sahovan Nuit was, in general, a wizard through and through. This entails a high degree of involvement in politics. Most of the time it was less about magic and more about power. She scolded herself to not go down that thread of thought. Instead, she paid attention to Jasa'lah, locking his blinking eyes to hers. Her voice was even, no hint of sadness or happiness. The words were very calm, although she had intended to sound as if she was mourning for her life, "I have lived for a very long time, I have professed my loyalty and servitude to one man." Jilitse stared at Jasalah's misty eyes and continued, "My very faith in him is what brought me here, for my task is to free him, as Priskil would free Aquiras from his slumber. You know the story?"

"I am familiar with it. But the man you love?" There was a pause. It was almost as if the Benshira did not believe. "You are capable of loving?" An undead? In love? Surely there was something stupid in that. Undead eat babies and steal bodies from living humans. The spread the curse wherever they go.

"Do you think of us as truly dead? Nuits are capable of thought and feelings, but it is far from the transient and fickle tribulations that you pulsers are accustomed to." She was slightly mad, "And do you not make vows in front of Cheva to love and hold for the rest of your lives? And if that love brings you to half a millenia!"

"I apologize. Is your husband..."

"You assume a great many things Jasa'lah."

"My deepest regret. I had only tried to put meaning into your words."

"An action unsolicited."
It had always been like this, the awkwardness that never really allowed Jilitse to talk about herself, the otherworldly mind that disapproved of pulsers in general. It made it very difficult for her to share her heart to anyone. Why must humans be so difficult?

They fell into silence.

"Jilitse."

She did not respond.

"Where does your frustration stem from?"

Was she frustrated! Not even!!!

But.

But maybe...

The burning feeling ever since that day. Meeting Drainira in her golem body, having to lose Marie Suzanne. Hurting Stitch. Hurting the children at the Welcome Home. Predicatable failure after predictable failure. She wasn't doing it right, she wasn't doing anything right, and here she walking towards the desert...

"Because of hope. I followed my heart in a quest to free the man I love from the chains that bind him. And these are not ordinary chains, Jasa'lah," it's a Grand Oath, "He lives in a prison of a god's making."

"You make it very hard for me to try and understand." Jasalah said, sweeping hand across his forehead. Was Jilitse talking about Ivak? Or some hooligan enslaved by any or all of the Pantheon? He had wanted to know the Nuit more, but if he had to decode everything she had to say...

"When you devote yourself to great things, you pay the price." Jilitse said, "The harder the task, the more difficult your obstacles. The greater the chances of failure."

They were back into talking in verses. Jilitse tried to compose herself. "It is a very long story, but I can tell if you will be willing to keep quiet until I finish."

"That I will be able to do."

"I became undead back at a time when the empire of Alahea was still shining in glory. I volunteered for Project ARMED - the origin of Sahova." Jilitse held up a finger when she saw Jasa'lah open his mouth to ask a question. It effectively stopped him. "In support of the Archwizard, I have served him as an Animator. No you are not yet allowed to talk…" Jilitse frowned and shook her head at the Benshira, who was signalling with his finger that he had one question.

"In the course of time we came across a big problem - the greatest artificial intelligence in the whole world deserted Sahova. You must have heard of golems?" After her companion's nod, she explained, "Drainira is far more intelligent than any you have seen. Dishwashers, sweepers, toys? Not even battle golems - if you have seen any - could compare to her. She is the most advanced golem ever created by no less than the Archwizard himself. Capable of thousands of thought processes in a small amount of time, a supervisor like her was designed to be in charge of an entire location or facility. She was Sahova itself, the very foundation of what we were."

"How does a Citadel leave its place?" He almost regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

Jilitse was miffed at the way Jasa'lah was unable to control himself. "Impatience is a virtue of pulsers." She could not blame him, however, the story was probably too extravagant compared to any that he has ever heard. "You know how the undead are known as body stealers? Apparently, some powerful force in this universe could allow artificially created life to be, in a sense, alive.”

“No doubt Kihala would be angry at that powerful force.” Jasa’lah smiled and then wiped it off with an apologetic pout. Was he not allowed to at least express his opinions?

“My goal is to stop Drainira. Remember that name, Jasa’lah, no good will ever come of the world with her self-professed quest of putting the world into order.” Jilitse moved ever so slightly, the last of the daylight playing shadows between the two of them. “She is the champion of Sagallius, the god of manipulation.”

Jasa’lah looked as if Jilitse said something very offensive.

“Are you saying you are against Sagallius?”

The Nuit gave him a blank look that said it was a stupid question.

“He is our ancestor.”

If only there was a justifiable expression that could convey her shock. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

“It’s true,” Jasa’lah said, “Yahal be merciful, it’s true.”

by **Jilitse** on February 13th, 2011, 3:02 am

By the time the darkness fell and Leth stretched himself in the sky, Jilitse no longer wanted to be around Jasa’lah. The Benshira was preposterous enough to claim that he was related to Saghal Hrinn. It was very difficult for Jilitse to take that in – not that she did not have a sense of humor, but Jasa'lah had proven himself impossibly impolite at lying about something as serious as “Saghal Hrinn is my ancestor”. The man was lingering about her, profusely apologizing for the awry joke.

Once again, Jilitse faced fear. Perhaps it was the spark of light inside her that enabled her to pursue this journey. It had not been without any consequence. At moments like these, it was much easier to give in to doubt and give up. It was not wrong to waver on faith, as imperfect as a Nuit may be. She was hurt. Apparently, leaving Sahova does a great many things to a Nuit. Back in the Citadel she did not have to adjust to pulsers – the pulsers adjusted to the undead. Talk about a topsy turvy world.

It was not terribly hard to cut herself off from the world, even if she was standing among pulsers. Jasa'lah's apologies droned on, but Jilitse had closed her ears for the mean time. If she was alive she would have died of a heart attack. She was most certain that had she not been undead, her emotional constitution would be far more vulnerable.

She was jerked back into the pulser's world when Jasa'lah pulled her cold arm, held it tightly with his warm hands and cried, "Have a little bit of conscience, will you, I am already at your feet! I did not mean it!!!" To which Jilitse gasped, for Jasa'lah's voice carried well across the other tent. Her apprehension soared to great heights, at the same time, a tiny needle of compassion and pity burst her bubbling irritation.

"Have some pride in yourself. You can be weak without making a grand display of it!" The words were more for herself than for Jasa'lah. He anticipated her forgiveness.

"I," and she emphasized this my pointing a hand to herself, "am a Nuit. You," she pointed at Jasa'lah, "are a pulser, a human, a living thing."

"We are worlds apart - culture, history, way of living." Jilitse said, "But if we must reach where we are to go, we need to meet somewhere half-way. I cannot force myself to understand you all the way through Cyphrus. And for that you have to learn some tact. I'm not requiring you to be highly formal, but I would appreciate it very much if you would learn to put a rein on your tongue." Another option was to go through the entire journey without talking - an impossibility for Jasa'lah and an easy feat for Jilitse.

The words slapped Jasa'lah. It had been his loose tongue that cost him his family's wealth. Curse that ravka Hibby!

"I'm sorry," Jilitse said, "Did I offend you with anything I said?" The Nuit was becoming more and more observant of the quick changes in Jasa'lah's emotions. It pays to not be used to blinking, one can naturally see minute changes to facial expressions. She lifted a hand to her face... Did she ever display a myriad of feelings as quick as humans did? Wait, why was she even conscious of these things?

Jasa'lah said a finally apology, but whether it was for her, or for himself, the Nuit was left to guess.

One wasted opportunity to become friends, two people left pondering about themselves, and then three silent nights passed by.

by **Jilitse** on February 27th, 2011, 4:20 am

What was half-a-season traveling to a Nuit? Time could be so relative for someone who had lived so long. Jilitse was not the kind to stop and smell the flowers; life had been far too long and dull for something like that. Even if death loomed somewhere in the distance, she faced it with a flat smile and a far-away stare. How many times to how many people had she explained her reason for being? She did not understand much of it. Why should Sagallius be stopped? Why did Drainira developed beyond what Mashaen created her to be? What’s the meaning of trying to save the Archwizard’s butt? That’s being existentialist of her, sure. But now, as she traveled towards Eyktol, was the time to think. Had it not been for Priskil’s light she would see how life could be so pointless, and she would have offered her life to Dira at the first opportunity. There is no turning back. She will find a way to defeat Drainira, and Sagallius after that.

There were things that she would like to talk about, questions that she could not answer on her own. But having a conversation with pulsers was not really her thing. She was socially awkward, even if one could get past that Jilitse was nothing but a walking corpse.

A very special walking corpse, once you get to know her better.

She had never been on the road this long. But it was worth it, as she had learned from the Drykas caravan many-a-things about being on the move in the wildlands. One time she had the bravery to come up and talk to Aslode – the only person, aside from Jasa’lah – who she had the audacity to talk to in the group. She asked in passing if the Drykas moved so easily, knowing that the horse clans’ city migrated around Cyphrus. “How are you able to do it? Being constantly in the move?” Aslode had laughed at the Nuit’s curiosity, “It is something hard to understand for those who are not Drykas, but it is a history that you could learn sometime.” Hurrying, always hurrying. Jilitse softly shook her head. Maybe she would, one day, learn more about the horse clans. And their magic.

When her annoyance at her Benshiran companion dissipated, she also started asking what the human knew about traveling, prying into knowledge that he might be able to share. “It is very different, from one place to another. What you are used to is the forest of Sylira. The Cyphrus region is very different, they do not call it the Sea of Grass for nothing. Eyktol, where we are going, is far different from those two, as it is sand everywhere.” Weather was also something to talk about, “It is winter, so Morwen’s breath chills the air. In Eyktol, it is very much like Sahova. We do not experience snow. Have you seen snow, Jilitse?”

Again, what a stupid question. But, adjusting herself to the human – lest they end up quarrelling until the next season – she answered, “No. I have not.”

“Maybe one day.” Jasa’lah humored her.

On the 50th of winter, the traveling merchants in the group disbanded from them, they will be taking a different route in order to reach Claridon. Most of those who were left were Drykas, all of the returning to the moving city of Endrykas.

Jasa’lah has returned to his cheery self, nothing but a farce as far as Jilitse was concerned. His smile was beautiful, but his gray eyes told a different sorrow. Jilitse sometimes thought about her differences with Jasa’lah, and the way he carried his burdens. Compared to him, she took her quest seriously. He, on the other hand, took everything with a pinch of salt and smiled against his disappointed heart. There was something to learn in that, she supposed.

Gradually over the next days, her conversations with Jasa’lah became more and more often. He was now comfortable to stay by her side even if they did not talk. She didn’t let herself be bothered by Jasa’lah’s random musings – pointing at plants and trees and directions that did not mean anything to her. It was small, pointless, meaningless talk to Jilitse, but she was beginning to understand that establishing a relationship took a little bit more than sharing one another’s past.

Jasa’lah had also learned to rein his thoughts and curiosity against the Nuit. He once told Jilitse that it was not so much as the need to know, but that he also respected her. There would be lots of time to talk in the coming days, he said, better not to rush things. Jilitse greatly appreciated that, and so whenever Jasa’lah came by and sat beside her while on the road, she slowly started paying attention. The wariness in between them was slowly crumbling away like a rock succumbing to the tear and wear of weather. It was good for her as well, because their conversations took her mind off things. He taught her that faith, like hope, was a thread to hold on to when you are on your most sorrowful day. “May Yahal bless you, Jilitse. If Priskil saw you worthy of being a friend, there will be others who will smile upon you.” Jasa’lah was a very religious man, he prayed to Yahal three, sometimes even five times a day. He always emphasized that when you had faith, you will be willing to face the greatest challenges in life. “That is true,” Jilitse answered, “but you don’t seem so sure of it yourself.” There was no mockery in her voice. “You are brave enough to go home and face the biggest of your fears, that much I can say. But inside your mind you are still thinking about it deeply, and it affects you greatly. Perhaps the difference lie in the fact that, let’s admit it, you are somewhat more optimistic than me. The odds are not against you, Jasa’lah.” Whereas I am going to face a god, Jilitse thought to herself.

“Believe me,” Jasa’lah cast his eyes to the ground, “You do not know half the story.”

“Maybe one of these days you will tell me the rest of it, and I will tell you the rest of mine.” Well, there was that. No harm in trying again.

by **Jilitse** on April 17th, 2011, 11:55 am

Jilitse traveled with great burdens upon her tired soul. Early in the fall, she suffered a terrifying blow into her very being. She faced Drainira, who claimed Marie Suzanne. The book held a lot of significance to Jilitse's quest, perhaps greatly so because it was written by Bianca Mashaen, daughter of the Archwizard. Or maybe she just considered it valuable, because of the fact that it was borrowed from the Great Library of Sahova.

Silently, she thought of the books left in her possession. She hadn't picked up any of them since, and she had left all her tools untouched. She wanted to distance herself away from the memories of violence, of magic, of Drainira, of Stitch and the kids. Jil, being a Nuit, wouldn't forget even if she meant to. At the core of her being is her drive to win against Sagallius, and there was simply no room for remorse.

Not that remorse wouldn't give itself room within her already troubled heart.

The problem was far too complicated, at least when compared to the petty tribulations she had when she was still a mage in Sahova. A mage. A title she didn't feel worthy of these days. She realized that she had quit almost everything after getting Priskil's mark. A lot of her time, she noticed, had been devoted to thinking. Which was not really bad, because she had to figure out how to fix herself. Her magic, her life.

These thoughts remained constant throughout their travel through Syliras and, it seemed, will deeply preoccupy the Nuit through Cyphrus. More thinking. Thinking that didn't really amount to anything, other than reflecting upon what has happened in the past. She wondered why this particular incident rang from her memories. Perhaps Stitch, with his smile and cheery attitude, affected her more than anybody else she had met. Maybe it was the stark difference between the two of them. He a fighter, she a mage. He a pulser, she undead. He with his morals, she with her own.

She faced all these questions alone, but for what it's worth, Jasa'lah also wanted his share of space and silence. For the next few nights she had the company of Jasa'lah, who stayed a good distance. Silence hung between them, a curtain of soliloquy. They actually enjoyed each other's company this way, when they weren't talking.

But how much longer before the silence hardens into an impenetrable wall? Will it become a thick hedge that covered their cores, preventing them from reaching out to each other?

by **Jilitse** on May 2nd, 2011, 9:05 am

Simply put, the journey was anything but a transition from one frame of mind to another. Jilitse was slowly being forged into something else, as such it is when one takes one own's fate into one's own hands. Mired with self-doubt, silent contemplation, and planned resolutions - and hope, Jilitse began to weave the strings of hope around her dead heart.

There was hope for redemption, even to those who had gone past their expiration date.

Maybe this is what it was like trying to find your life's meaning. A lot of pointless travel, useless musings. By the time they entered Cyphrus, the tall grass and living forest took Jilitse's attention. She now needed to accept the consequences of this travel, and whatever lies beyond. In small ways she started to move away from her lonely corner - even managing to talk to the lady on the other tent and her son about the cold of winter.

She progressed her companionship with Jasa'lah by taking the initiative to talk with him, ask if he was feeling cold, if he had his fill of food, if he was tending their horses. Though the questions were often the same, and repeated throughout the day, Jasa'lah learned to appreciate Jilitse trying. Maybe this friendship could work after all, he thought.

He smiled at her one day, a big warm smile. Jilitse stared at him with wide eyes, recognizing an unfamiliar feeling settling in the bottom of her decaying gut. The Benshiran, with his dry humor and melancholy, was starting to grow on her. She had to admit that she was rather getting fond of having company.

One night Jasa'lah was unable to hold his tongue. "There's something about you tonight," he began eagerly, "like you've changed. But in a good way." She gave him a questioning stare, slightly arrogant. "Jilitse." He smiled at her - his rare genuine smile that didn't reek of hidden pain and stored loneliness. "You're adjusting well with the weather and the travel and the people. A big improvement, if I may add."

"That has to be the understatement of the year," she thinly replied, body warming under a number of clothing. "The cold is rather unbearable, the people cautious, and I am terribly tired of thinking and thinking, and wondering what manner of beast will appear from beyond, fearing every noe and then for my life." A glimpse of exasperation floated in her face, "If that's what adjusting to the pulser world is like..." she smiled despite herself, "I guess I truly am away from Sahova." Sometimes it was better to admit change, accept it, face it, overcome it. "I spoke with Aslode last night, asked him general questions about our travel - how much longer until we're there, the direction we're heading. He was kind to oblige with answers." She added, "If everything wasn't covered in these ungainly leaves I'd have memorized the path from Syliras to Ahnatep. Unfortunately, there's just too much snow. Endless green and white and brown and gray. It all looks the same to me."

"Haha!" He laughed. "Look I think we just carried a chime of conversation without you making snide comments and rude words against me. Now if you could just stay this way for the entirety of our journey."

"Don't get used to it so much."

"Then I will just have to pray harder."

It was Jilitse's turn to smile. "You speak as if I am an unbeliever who needs to be brought back into the fold."

"Or maybe you are just as lost as I am. You should pray more often Jilitse, what is your faith if you do not profess it. It is a well of strength, drink from it and you shall never tire."

"You now sound like a priest."

"Must you always be so..." He rolled his hands, unable to find the words to describe Jilitse's innate nature for being sarcastic. He pulled his leverage, "When it comes to faith Jilitse of Sahova, even you must learn devotion."

"Sounds rather silly, but remind me to try it next time." She pointedly answered. "How is my horse?" She asked, moving away from the topic before it devolved into another argument.

"It's still a horse. Tough girl, she is, though I don't think you should be bringing such manner of mount into Cyphrus. Into Eyktol, for that matter."

"It would be shameful if she died."

"Yes.." He agreed, and immediately took it back, "What, no! You need to learn a little bit more compassion Jilitse. It is rather scary how you often take life nonchalantly."

"I've been dead for a long time, I don't think I put value into breathing. In my opinion breathing is actually rather disrespectful."

Jasa'lah opened his mouth in retort, but just shrugged and shook his head. The Nuit still had a lot to learn about living.

by **Jilitse** on May 3rd, 2011, 7:37 am

Historians would remember that the island of Sahova was cursed, forever it will stay until it had regained the empire of Alahea. Of course many people are rather daft about what really happened before the Valterrian, and they can try and try but never tell the story correctly. It was the opposite for Jilitse, who was there even before it had all began. She sometimes found it ridiculous when Jasa'lah asked about Sahova, and then she will tell him a little about it from memory - bright and intact as if everything happened yesterday. She found this memory a growing pain, especially now that she had thrown herself into the world - there was always wind blowing, people moving, faces changing.

Jilitse has to face Sagallius with who she was now, and though being undead sounded like a handicap, Jilitse knew to put value in her own skills. If she weren't undead she would have instantly died when Clarissa struck a sword into her body - there wouldn't be any opportunity for transferring to another body, or rebirth. Life would be harder, and she would be unable to support herself. For how would Jil, if she was alive, fend off for herself?

Still, it was hard to stand up on her own. She volleyed her mind back to the day Priskil saved her, how she promised to saved Aquiras. That wasn't really needed, because what she was out to do was to kill Sagallius. She had been touched by Priskil's love, and on a very personal level, could relate to her devotion for Aquiras. Jil wasn't really informed about how to go about her faith at the moment.

The Nuit took no spite, every time Jasa'lah enjoined her to join in his prayers, which were often filled with thanks and praise to Yahal. Most of the time he spoke in Benshiran, leaving the undead wondering if Yahal understood other languages as well. Would he hear someone praying in Common? Not that she would be praying to him, of course. Jil was just curious. Even if she was not religious, she appreciated Jasa'lah fervent prayers to Yahal. The man dutifully prayed and prayed and prayed everyday. She counted it as his way of coping from his mistakes in his life, and a way to affirm that he would change from now on. There was something to be learned from that, she admitted to herself.

One bright afternoon, the weather cold and the sun tame, she listened intently to the Benshiran's prayers, trying her best to distinguish the words. She stared at him and wondered what made him friendly to an undead. Was it the gold she paid, was it his faith in their god? She was in the mood for talking after the prayer, and she requested Jasa'lah to stay near her while they moved through the copse of greens.

"Your prayers seem to have gotten longer." She noticed, "And you are more solemn than the last time."

Jasa'lah's light eyes met hers, betraying his loneliness. "I am nervous about traveling, and I am asking for guidance. I know that Yahal is watching over us this very moment, and will continue to do so until we reach home safely."

"How does that come to you?" She asked, "Praying is such a mystery. You never know if your pleas will get answered. How would Yahal keep watch over you, and how would he relay his messages, if there are any."

"Jilitse, faith stems from believing in something with great conviction. Doubt is a normal human thing. The gods won't spite us for that." He smiled, "I should know, given that I have failed him. But I have prayed every night since then, and in doing so I am leaving behind my vice and cowardice. Yahal knows how to love and forgive his followers."

She let go of the word 'vice'. Jasa'lah hadn't revealed particulars about his stay in Syliras - how he ended up losing money. She was not about to dig into a hard rock wall. "That is rather vague and ambiguous. You follow Yahal based on principle and faith alone?"

"Yes. His presence looms over me, and I shall repent until I have been forgiven." Jil found his next words curious, "The one time I saw him, he warned me of the evils in this world. I think I failed to notice his emphasis on the need to put my whole trust in him. Maybe I didn't find myself capable of surrendering my life to his will. I thought that it was one of those dreams, something your mind occasionally makes up. But you know what happened to my story and see where I ended - broke, altogether depressed. But he was willing to extend his mercy, and I am holding on to that." Actually, Jilitse didn't really know what happened, but she got the gist of what he was saying.

"That was a rather elaborate explanation about how you turned your back on a vision of your god and ended up falling into an endless pit of despair. And you are now going back to Yahal to appease him, am I correct?"

"Your words does Yahal injustice. You forget the day we met I asked for his intervention. In a way you could say that if I wouldn't be moved if I didn't commune with him. He delivered a message that I was waiting for."

"He didn't. You just prayed, and by random circumstance I was also there in the temple." Jasa'lah often tells Jil that she was a 'sign' from the heavens. The thought always turned her rotting guts.

"Or, Yahal, through his great providence, brought the two of us together. Jil, maybe he sent you to me in particular so that you could help me."

"Rather scary, you make it sound like I am an embodiment of a god's will. I could likewise say that Priskil may have sent you to my direction. For convenience, let us believe in what is easier to accept." She tried helplessly to adjust to the concept of divinity.

"Now didn't that make you feel like an apostle. You should stop pretending not to have a belief in any god or goddess Jilitse. I have heard you speak Priskil's name and hers is the only thing you say with such love."

"Your comment makes me feel somewhat unpleasant." She said, a little queasy, and she denied, "It's not really love. Perhaps out of a sense of appreciation. My connection with her is rather personal."

"All our connections to our gods are."

"No really, Jasa'lah," Jil felt like she should show him what lay underneath her bandaged hand, "Whatever respect I have for Priskil, if you think it could come close to devotion, it is because she has a great influence in my life."

"As Yahal has on mine."

"It's not on a very superficial level." She shook her head lightly, her hair swishing on her paisley skin. Slowly, she unwound the bandage on her right hand, moving them aside with a finger for the Benshiran to see her secret. Priskil's mark of friendship.

Jasa'lah's eyes widened and bore into Jilitse's own. He made a very loud gasp. Slowly, he recovered. "I wonder why you keep such a blessing hidden! Jilitse, you reveal very little about yourself!"

"Hush now or the whole caravan will learn about this." With as much speed as her body could allow her, she tightened the cloth strips covering her hand.

He gave her an incredulous stare. "What an unbelievable Nuit!" He caught himself and spoke in whispers, "This changes a lot of things about you. Your heart must be pure gold for the goddess Priskil to let you bear a mark!"

"This is a symbol of our friendship, not a mark of the purity of my heart. I do not have one at the moment. And I wouldn't really call her a goddess. She doesn't like that."

"Ah, but still! No wonder..." If it wasn't clear before, it slowly dawned on him, "It makes sense now. You, going after Saghal Hrinn. Your mark from Priskil. And you claim to have no devotion!" He was rather giddy about his new discovery. "Jilitse, no wonder you speak about her with such..."

The Nuit stopped his musings short, "All right, stop being so close to me. You are making me feel very uncomfortable."

He straightened, but looked at her with a smug knowing look. "You ridicule my faith. But yours must be at even greater heights, you are just not showy about it."

Maybe for the first time, after a very long time, she thought she could agree with the Benshiran. Maybe hers is a faith that transcended words and physical devotion. The Benshiran noticed her acquiescence, gave her a pat in the shoulder, and spoke once again. "I may just be your traveling companion, but you can always talk to me about the silly and the mundane."

"I shall keep it in mind."

Later, she requested Jasa'lah to tell her more about Yahal and his influence on his people. Her research on humans and their relationship with their gods continued to move forward.

by **Jilitse** on May 9th, 2011, 7:11 am

She felt uplifted in Jasa'lah's tales about Yahal. Benshirans, in general, were interesting people, especially those who embraced their faith at the time of the world's destruction. Jil took the story from Jasa'lah, retelling it to reaffirm the details, "During the Valterrian, a priest of Rapa delivered a message from Yahal, and everybody believed in it?"

"No, not everybody. But the faithful did not waver."

"So those who had great faith in Yahal follow the priest and stayed inside a temple." She had an air of wonder, "This, because they believed in the priest's words... which was as good as Yahal's." She looked at him for confirmation, "And then those who stayed in Yahebah were delivered from the world's destruction?"

"Yahebah was not saved entirely, no. It was not exempt from the havoc and chaos. But its people were sheltered from further harm. It would have been worse."

The Nuit reacted, "Yahal took care of those who believed in him. What about those who didn't?"

"They perished," Came the simple reply.

"You said doubt was a human instinct. Why did Yahal exclude a number of people just because they refused a man's words?"

"Ah, but the prophet Emiah was no ordinary man. Among Benshirans, priests are the voice of Yahal. But do not confuse them with the regular acolytes and priests. Like I mentioned before, Benshiran faith is far less 'on the surface' than what it appears to be. Our relationship to Yahal is part of who we are. We are his people. To deny him our faith, and to turn our backs on his call is a sin in itself. Deserving of punishment." The words were bitter, but as usual Jasa'lah knew to bounce back, "He is not entirely mean, however, because he forgives just as much as he loves."

"I think what you are trying to say," she eyed him sternly, "Is that Benshirans are expected to hold on to their faith through whatever trials may come. Is that correct?"

"Yes. We are imperfect beings, but we can overcome our flaws through devotion. Living under the wings of Yahal means that we must treasure our families, tradition, and faith - and quite fiercely so. If you deny Yahal your trust, you turn your back on his love."

"By not trusting the priest, the other Yahebans displayed weakness in their faith and perished."

He nodded, "You are catching up quickly."

She continued, finding an opening to pry about Jasa'lah's own faith, "How does this all relate to you, on a personal level?"

"My ancestors left Yahebah and returned to the nomadic life because Yahal promised to take care of us. He did, and our big tent is a testimony that Yahal is a good provider. He acknowledged the early sacrifices of his people - they trusted him to protect them. He returned their prayers, faith, and love by allowing them to survive the desert."

She softly nodded, "Your ancestors must be proud of their heritage."

"The descendants are just as proud and thankful. Although there are times that we are required to keep the faith burning - through good times and bad. Faith is that, Jilitse. It is something you keep and uphold no matter how much trying the times are."

"Spoken like a true devout."

"The lineage most proud of their faith in Yahal, are those who stayed by him through the Valterrian. We are imperfect creatures, though the best of us knows how to hold onto life - which, no matter how much you deny, is governed by the gods."

She thought about that last line. "Governed by the gods," She repeated the words and added her thoughts, "That is a rather heavy claim, but it allows me to peek in the window of your mind. I have underestimated your understanding of the divine. But I am glad we spoke about it, as it provides me an alternative point of view." She would rather not have her life governed by Sagallius, if it came to that.

"Ours is under the eye of Yahal, our fate is in his hands, our life is his words. But... it's your turn to speak about Priskil." Jasa'lah frowned, lines creasing his rough face, "It is not fair if all you do is listen and repeat what I say."

Jilitse stayed silent a while, but eventually spoke up, "Well... I have mentioned before that there is no god in Sahova. Perhaps that is owed to a time when the presence of gods weren't as... influential as they are now. There was a time when man thought that he was just as powerful, that the gods were not beyond him. So you can say that, within that frame of mind, many Alaheans do not think too much about gods. Some even feel that they are gods of their own making. A great example of this would be Sagallius."

"But I digress. I left Sahova with the advise that Priskil might be willing to provide help with my quest - the one where I am running after Sagallius and Drainira." Saghal Hrinn was Benshiran mage, who later turned into a God. His kin do not look kindly upon mages, or mages who betray gods - for that matter. Sagallius was a man who aspired to be more than what he could become, and for that his brethren no longer think kindly of him. And mages in general. Jil sought this God's death. Jasa'lah had always been appalled by the story. "I didn't know how to go about it, and I didn't really think that a goddess, who I have never even bothered with for the last five centuries, would bother to look upon me. And help me. The concept of praying, praising, trusting Priskil was not in the list of things to do. Though I really wanted to meet her, because Priskil was enemy to Sagallius. I was in the assumption that she would like to take revenge. Though later I learned that she wasn't that kind of goddess. It's hard to understand at first, but to understand Priskil is to understand her nature. I stand corrected the day I met her face to face. She was not... what I had expected. But if you're a Nuit like me, expectation's aren't really a big deal. At the end of the long thread of my despair and near death, she was an anchor to hold onto. Truly she was the Goddess of Last Resort. She gave me the much needed hope to not give up on that last moment." She spoke, netiher pausing nor breathing,

"It was life-changing."

"I suspect it was."

"Very much so."

"So tell me more about her, what did she say?"

"Well, after she saved my pathetic rotting body from death... we talked."

"She saved you from death and then you... talked?" Jasa'lah asked, incredously, expecting a grand display of power and awesome.

"Yes, we talked. I thanked her for saving me, after all, it's not everyday a goddess goes out of her way to pull someone away from Dira. I think that it was not my time to die, not yet. Or if ever it was, my life is on loan to her. Though Priskil is too modest to let me owe my life to her, I consider what she did for me a debt. I will repay it, not out of duty or obligation, but by faith." She wondered about the words she spoke, "Maybe that day I placed my faith, my entire being into her hands. But I was selfish, and I was bold enough to ask for her help in defeating Sagallius. As an afterthought, I told her I could help restore Aquiras' heart. Take back what has been stolen. Something like that." The Nuit was clearly clueless on how to go about what she needed to do, but continued, "And then we talked more, about ourselves. I have never reflected upon myself in such a way that she spun me around - opening my eyes to the box where my life has been trapped, opening a door to opportunity."

"What else happened?"

"I told her that I would welcome her friendship."

"And then?" Jasa'lah kept on asking, waiting for something.

"And then we became friends." Jilitse solemnly closed her eyes and let the goddess' warmth and goodness fill her mind.

"Wow. Your story is rather stale. None of the mystery and grandeur people usually boast about."

"I think so too, especially after hearing your story of redemption. But I guess different gods are different in their own way. And experiences vary from people to people." Jilitse said, "You have to admit however, that it is pretty rare to be called 'friend' by a deity."

"Not if it's Priskil. She's a beacon of humility."

"I would agree to that," the Nuit said a little wistfully.

"There!" Jasa'lah pointed at Jilitse, "See, you think of her preciously!"

"I never said that I didn't." She smiled preciosuly at him.

"Well, let me help you establish something Jilitse." Jasa'lah gave a knowing smile, "After your encounter with Priskil, her saving you from death, and all, what do you think of her?"

"I see her as a kind goddess."

"You are missing my point. But would you say that the experience changed you?"

"I already said that."

"Have you found yourself affected by her being, the things she stand for?" Jasa'lah continued when he noticed Jilitse didn't understand. "You're not just a friend of Priskil, Jil. You are a representative of what she is. Hope. Purity. Humility. For her to take you in as one of her own, it means that she is keeping an eye on you. She saw something in you that is worthy of redemption."

"You say big words sometimes."

"Meanwhile, you are so thrifty with words, and you always confuse me whether you mean it in a bad or good way."

"If it helps, I respect your faith. There are things about you that can only be discovered when we talk. You remind me a lot about someone in Syliras. He has a good opinion or two about life."

The Benshiran eyed her curiously, "You know, I have always wondered something about you. But I had always been afraid to be straightforward because you don't like people being upfront." He breathed. This was it. The moment that he itched to ask about. "You claim to be a mage."

"That, I am."

"But not the 'evil' kind, you know what I mean."

Jilitse knew where this was heading. She looked far away, "What do you mean?"

"I was hoping you would..." he continued in between pauses, "tell me what kind of witch... I mean, err... mage you are."

Jil gave a lazy look at Jasalah. This was going to be a long talk.