Pethi Meeting with the Celestials
The private room beneath Settlement Hall has begun to acquire the faintest signs of habitation.
A second lamp has been brought in. Several of Kuserlion’s books remain stacked against one wall. Someone has found a larger chair and placed it near the table, though whether this was done specifically for Pethi or merely because the previous furniture had proven inadequate for goliaths is unclear.
Ilyrane is seated.
317 Unbroken Dawn hovers beside her, its light pale and steady.
When Pethi enters, both celestials recognize her immediately.
Not merely as one of those who descended into the temple beneath the swamp.
Ilyrane rises.
“You serve in the temple above.”
It is not quite a question.
Unbroken Dawn turns toward Pethi.
“The Pagoda of Ara.”
Its rings make one slow revolution.
Then, after a moment:
“Though it is not Ara’s alone.”
Ilyrane glances toward the archon.
“No.”
She has apparently already learned enough of Agrovionimb’s surviving religious customs to understand the distinction.
“The name identifies the temple. It does not divide the gods within it.”
Unbroken Dawn brightens faintly.
“That required clarification.”
“It did.”
Ilyrane turns her attention fully toward Pethi.
“Kuserlion has told us that you were raised there.”
A pause.
“That you tend those who come to pray.”
“And that you continued doing so after the gods became silent.”
There is something different in Ilyrane’s regard now.
Not surprise that worship survived.
Something closer to contemplation.
“For more than a thousand years,” she says, “mortals here prayed without answer.”
Unbroken Dawn adds quietly,
“And still built places for prayer.”
Ilyrane nods.
“Still kept rites.”
“Still taught the names.”
“Still comforted the grieving.”
“Still spoke to gods who did not speak back.”
Neither celestial treats that as foolishness.
Quite the opposite.
Ilyrane studies Pethi for several moments.
“When I entered the vigil, there were no mortal temples.”
Unbroken Dawn’s rings slow.
“No mortal prayers.”
“No mortal priesthoods,” Ilyrane says.
She glances toward the books Kuserlion has used to teach them the history of the world.
“Everything I know of those things comes from what was intended for the world after us, and from what your people have told us since we emerged.”
A pause.
“And now I find that mortals built temples, learned the names of the gods, received answers for ages…”
Unbroken Dawn adds quietly,
“And continued after the answers stopped.”
Ilyrane looks back to Pethi.
“That is the part I do not yet understand.”
“I would like to know what a temple became when heaven fell silent.”
Another pause.
“And what faith means to someone who has never known anything else.”
Pethi bows, her prayer beads wrapped around her clasped hands. “That is all correct. I am here to serve.” She raises her hands with the beads to each of them.
“I am but a humble servant of The Pagoda of Ara and I hope my answers can help you understand us.”
She smiles as she continues. “I serve The Pagoda of Ara. And by serving the temple, we serve our community.” Pethi gestures outwards. “Yes. While the temple is dedicated to Ara, we of Andore have a history of dedicating our temples to the entire pantheon. This lets us be a school, chapel, and a house of healing, physical and spiritual, for everyone.”
Pethi continues,”Yes, we understand the gods are gone but I feel that the ideals they represent keep us together. Those ideals form faith. Faith in our belief and trust in each other. The faith we feel in the arms of a mother, a father in their guidance, the faith our friends have our backs. With the shrines, a symbol. Prayers, a ritual. The gods, examples of virtues to live by.”
After a pause. “Let me give you a example. My birth family left on the last exploration ship “Last Beacon”. As you know, they left me in the care of the temple. We do not have orphans in the traditional sense. We all work together in ensuring our survival. They had faith that the temple would raise me to their best of their ability. And I believe they have. I see them as my family. Dovos, not just a mentor but a father. Dovos and others in the temple helped me to learn to read, practice meditation and spiritual guidance in addition unarmed combat. I repay that to our community. They have faith that I can be a ear to talk to. A shoulder to cry on. A pillar of strength for those who aren't. We know Ara as the Goddess of Honor. I believe we do our best in honoring her here. I was raised here following her tenets.”
Pethi lowers her head, sadness washing over her.“Recently though, I hate to say, that faith has been tested. We now know some of that source. The tendrils of Elumis' dead body have threaded their way into our community. Many are losing hope. They are losing faith. Even I lost that faith heading to your temple.” She breaths deeply, meditatively before continuing. “You helped restore that faith in me and I will forever be humbly grateful. I hope I have answered your questions. I have many questions myself as a pious temple cleric.” She gives a nervous laugh,”But, I admit, I never expected to meet those who have served the gods in a capacity such as the both of you. So I don't know where to begin.”
Ilyrane listens without interrupting, though several times her attention sharpens at particular words.
Faith.
Family.
Service.
When Pethi finishes, 317 Unbroken Dawn is the first to speak.
“You use faith differently than we expected.”
Its rings turn once.
“Not only belief in that which cannot be seen.”
Ilyrane nods.
“You describe trust placed in another person, with the expectation that they will remain true to what has been entrusted to them.”
She glances toward Unbroken Dawn.
“That meaning is not unfamiliar.”
“No.”
The archon’s light brightens slightly.
“It resembles fidelity.”
“Yes,” Ilyrane says. “Though chosen and exchanged between mortals.”
She looks again to Pethi.
“Your parents entrusted you to the temple. The temple accepted that trust. Those who raised you then entrusted others to your care.”
A pause.
“And you understand honoring Ara not primarily as speaking her name, but by continuing the pattern.”
Unbroken Dawn turns slowly.
“Honor made behavioral.”
Ilyrane’s expression softens.
“That, I think, Ara would recognize.”
She does not say it as revelation or divine message. Only as someone who knew the order to which Ara belonged.
At Pethi’s statement that the gods are gone, however, Ilyrane gently raises one hand.
“There is one word I would change.”
Her tone carries no rebuke.
“You know the gods are silent.”
Unbroken Dawn adds,
“You know that they cannot presently be reached from Andórë.”
“Yes.”
Ilyrane lowers her hand.
“We do not know that they are gone.”
A pause.
“That distinction may seem small after a thousand years.”
Unbroken Dawn’s light contracts faintly.
“It is not small to us.”
Ilyrane continues.
“But I understand why your people began using the stronger word. Silence lasting longer than generations becomes indistinguishable from absence to those born within it.”
She considers Pethi’s explanation of shrines and prayer.
“A symbol when no presence answers it.”
“A ritual when no voice responds.”
“Examples of virtues when the beings who embodied them can no longer teach.”
Unbroken Dawn drifts nearer.
“Mortals preserved the shape after losing the contact.”
Ilyrane looks toward it.
“Yes.”
Then back to Pethi.
“And the shape became useful in ways beyond worship.”
“School.”
“Medicine.”
“Counsel.”
“Family.”
“Community.”
Unbroken Dawn pulses once.
“The temple became more mortal.”
Ilyrane thinks about that.
“Perhaps.”
Another pause.
“Or perhaps mortals discovered what temples had always also been.”
When Pethi speaks of the despair reaching into the city, Ilyrane’s expression grows more somber.
“The influence beneath the swamp did not create every doubt or every sorrow in Agrovionimb.”
Unbroken Dawn adds quietly,
“But it has weight.”
“Yes.”
“It presses where weakness already exists.”
“And deepens wounds that might otherwise heal.”
Ilyrane looks directly at Pethi.
“That includes faith.”
Her gaze remains steady.
“You went below already burdened by a pressure you did not understand.”
A pause.
“And you encountered the source.”
When Pethi thanks her for restoring that faith, Ilyrane is silent for a moment.
“I will not refuse your gratitude.”
There is a faint echo there of how she answered Wrenn.
“But I do not think I restored your faith.”
Unbroken Dawn’s rings slow.
“You encountered something that proved your understanding of the world was incomplete.”
Ilyrane nods.
“You found that the divine had not vanished from Andórë in every form.”
“You found us.”
“And perhaps that gave something inside you room to stand again.”
She inclines her head.
“But what stood was already yours.”
Unbroken Dawn brightens softly.
“The temple taught you to carry it.”
Ilyrane’s expression becomes warmer.
“And you carried more of it than you believed.”
Then Pethi admits that she does not know where to begin.
For the first time, Ilyrane almost smiles.
“That appears to be common among mortals who meet us.”
Unbroken Dawn rotates once.
“Anchor began with definitions.”
“Wrenn began with anger.”
“Pethi has begun by apologizing for not knowing how to begin.”
The archon’s light brightens.
“This is a third method.”
Ilyrane gives it a brief sideways glance.
Then she returns her attention to Pethi.
“You need not begin correctly.”
A pause.
“You said you are here to serve.”
“So are we.”
That lands differently coming from her.
“Ask what matters to you.”
“If the answer is known to us, we will give it.”
“If we do not know, we will tell you.”
Unbroken Dawn adds,
“And if the question contains an assumption that is incorrect, we will probably correct it.”
Ilyrane looks toward the archon.
“Yes.”
“That has occurred several times.”
“Yes.”
Unbroken Dawn dims just slightly.
Ilyrane gestures gently toward the chair across from them.
“You have spent your life helping others bring difficult questions into words.”
Her expression is calm and patient.
“You may take as long as you need with your own.”
Pethi makes a respectful bow. “I thank you so much for your words. It humbles me that Ara would recognize all we do here.” A pause thinking over their choice of words, “Yes, perhaps silent would be the better word and that difference will stay with me. Especially now finding the both of you. And again thank you.”
“You speak of a burden I carried. Perhaps one does not know the weight one is carrying until you put it down.” She gives a slight chuckle at the thought.
“Your words and presence have lessened that. But also made me more aware, though it is a burden I feel is mine to carry so others can stand. I have questions such as what happens to those who serve the temple and to Agrovionimb in general once your presence becomes known. But that is not a burden solely for me but something for those these questions are but a part of them. The Council and Kureslion along with those like Dovos to ask and ponder. And I will do my best to honor and follow.”
Pethi then takes the chair. “Perhaps my question is not that dissimilar from those I council. I soon will depart with those who came to the Temple of Elumis and met you Ilyrane and Unbroken Dawn. I go with them for many reasons. Knowledge in hope of returning and expanding our understanding of the world outside of our island. And well, hope, for our future. But I also go for more personal reasons.”
Pethi pauses for the right words. The beads running through her hands.“I am the last of my kind here, a Goliath. My parents left me in the care of the temple as they also left on a similar voyage. The last of many before our own we will go on soon. I have no memory of my parents. They are but shapes without a face though many have described them. I am not angry or resentful they left me. In fact, I'm proud. And I hope they would be proud as I too will be following in their steps. But, while I have friends and a family who care for me as I care for them, I am alone. I have read of the Goliaths of Andore. Are they still out there? If so, who are they now? And would I have a place with them? Which leads to my parents and all the previous voyages. Are they still alive? Have the demons claimed them?”
Pethi takes a few meditative breaths, then continues as she does her best to get to the heart of the burden she carries. “Also, as you said, the gods have been silent. I understand. Tulla's Law. Something I believe in and have used in my life to help myself and others. But seeing Elumis' body and that her body has not been claimed. The fact the journey we go on is but the latest in many that go back centuries with none returning, is there hope for us? I want to believe. I have faith. You two have helped reinforce that. But ultimately, my question is am I strong enough to deal with the ramifications of what we find? Those questions about myself and our place here. A literal island in a sea of Demons.”
Pethi smiles, almost like some of her burden is lifted. “I am sorry if I rambled. If my questions are without answers. But by expressing these worries to you, and with your presence, patience, and desire to listen has done as much for me as I feel I have done to many in my service at the temple. Thank you and I hope I can continue to serve you in your time here”
As Pethi begins to stand. “I do have one more question, more immediate. One we asked before but something I hope we can help in service. Is there anything we can do for Elumis? I would love to help do something.” Pethi bows respectfully.
Ilyrane does not answer immediately.
Pethi has asked too many different kinds of questions for a single answer, and she seems unwilling to flatten them into one.
317 Unbroken Dawn’s rings turn slowly while Pethi speaks of her parents, the lost voyages, the goliaths she has never known, and the world beyond Agrovionimb.
When she finishes, the archon speaks first.
“You have asked us whether things exist that we cannot see.”
A faint pulse of light.
“Your people.”
“Your parents.”
“The other ships.”
“Your future.”
Ilyrane nods.
“And whether you will remain yourself after learning the answers.”
She regards Pethi carefully.
“That last question may be the greater one.”
A pause.
“I cannot tell you whether your parents live.”
“Nor can I tell you what has become of the goliaths of Andórë.”
Unbroken Dawn adds,
“We knew none.”
Ilyrane nods.
“When our vigil began, the mortal peoples you know had not yet come into the world.”
She does not attempt to soften the uncertainty.
“If goliaths remain beyond Agrovionimb, they have had more than a million years of history that neither of us witnessed.”
Unbroken Dawn’s light brightens faintly.
“And more than a thousand years of isolation that your own records cannot see.”
Ilyrane continues.
“You may find them.”
“You may find their descendants changed beyond what your histories prepare you for.”
“You may find nothing.”
“And you may learn the fate of your parents.”
A pause.
“Or you may never know.”
There is compassion in her voice, but no false reassurance.
“I do not think faith requires pretending that all of those possibilities are equally easy to bear.”
Unbroken Dawn’s rings slow.
“Hope is not certainty.”
Ilyrane looks briefly toward it.
“No.”
Then she looks back to Pethi.
“I served Hope.”
The words carry a different weight coming from her.
“Elumis did not promise that what was loved would survive.”
“She did not promise that courage would be rewarded.”
“She did not promise that tomorrow would resemble what one wished it to be.”
A quiet pause.
“Hope was the reason to reach toward tomorrow without possessing it first.”
317 Unbroken Dawn gives a small pulse.
“That distinction appears important here.”
“Yes.”
Ilyrane folds her hands.
“You ask whether there is hope for you.”
“I cannot answer by telling you that the Dawn Seeker will return safely.”
“I cannot tell you that your parents are waiting.”
“I cannot tell you that the world beyond the island contains what you need it to contain.”
Her eyes remain on Pethi.
“But you are preparing to leave anyway.”
“You are going because knowledge matters.”
“Because your people matter.”
“Because those who may still live beyond this island matter.”
“And because you need to know something of where you came from.”
Unbroken Dawn adds,
“That appears to contain hope already.”
Ilyrane nods.
“Not assurance.”
“Hope.”
Then comes Pethi’s more difficult question.
Am I strong enough?
Ilyrane is silent for several breaths.
“I do not know.”
Unbroken Dawn turns toward her.
The deva continues before the archon can add anything.
“And neither do you.”
She says it gently.
“Strength is often known only after it has been required.”
A pause.
“But I think you may be asking the wrong version of the question.”
She inclines her head slightly.
“You spend your life helping others carry what they cannot carry alone.”
“You described yourself as an ear, a shoulder, a pillar.”
“Yet when you imagine what waits beyond the sea, you ask whether you are strong enough to bear it.”
Unbroken Dawn’s light swells softly.
“She is not traveling alone.”
“No.”
Ilyrane’s expression softens.
“Perhaps you will not be strong enough for everything you find.”
“Perhaps none of you will.”
“That does not mean you fail.”
She pauses.
“You have already told us how mortals survive burdens larger than one person.”
“Faith in one another.”
Unbroken Dawn turns once.
“Shared weight.”
“Yes.”
“And if what you find changes you, that is not necessarily the same as breaking.”
There is something in that sentence that plainly comes from Ilyrane’s own recent correction, though she does not make herself the subject.
When Pethi apologizes for rambling, Unbroken Dawn brightens.
“You did not.”
Ilyrane glances toward it.
“That was unusually decisive.”
“She was organizing distress aloud.”
A pause.
“That is structurally similar to prayer.”
Ilyrane considers this.
“Perhaps it is.”
Then Pethi thanks them and offers to continue serving them.
Ilyrane raises one hand before Pethi can stand fully.
“Pethi.”
Her tone is gentle but firm.
“You do not owe us service.”
Unbroken Dawn settles beside her.
“You already possess service.”
Ilyrane nods.
“To your temple.”
“To your community.”
“To those who trust you.”
“To the companions with whom you are about to leave.”
She inclines her head.
“If you choose to help us while we are here, we will accept help given freely.”
“But do not transfer your devotion to us because we are celestial.”
Unbroken Dawn adds,
“We are servants.”
“Yes.”
“Not gods.”
Ilyrane’s expression warms slightly.
“And you need not become our servant in order to honor those we served.”
Then Pethi asks the final question.
Something changes in Ilyrane.
Not the recoil that once accompanied acknowledgment of Elumis’s death.
Something quieter now.
“There are things you can do for Elumis.”
Unbroken Dawn’s rings become very still.
Ilyrane continues carefully.
“You cannot perform the work that belongs to Tuulla.”
“No hand beneath hers was appointed to collect the Lady.”
“And I do not know a mortal rite that can change that.”
She lets the limit stand before continuing.
“But Wrenn offered something I had not understood.”
Unbroken Dawn’s glow softens.
“Mourning.”
Ilyrane nods.
“We kept vigil.”
“We remained.”
“But we did not mourn.”
A pause.
“Your people know how to do that.”
She looks at the prayer beads wound through Pethi’s hands.
“You have rites for naming the dead.”
“For remembering.”
“For speaking loss aloud.”
“For allowing grief to be witnessed.”
Unbroken Dawn adds,
“And apparently for continuing afterward.”
“Yes.”
Ilyrane looks directly at Pethi.
“If you wish to help Elumis, then help us mourn her truthfully.”
“Not as a goddess who might awaken.”
“Not as a presence who presently answers prayer.”
“But as Elumis.”
“The Goddess of Hope.”
“The one who died defending this world while it was still young.”
Her voice grows quieter.
“The one who should have been collected.”
“And was not.”
For a moment the room is entirely still.
“Perhaps your temple can give her something we could not.”
Unbroken Dawn’s rings turn once.
“A funeral.”
Ilyrane closes her eyes briefly.
When she opens them, she nods.
“Yes.”
Then she adds:
“And there is another service.”
Her gaze becomes more practical.
“The four archons below remain diminished.”
“I will work to restore what can be restored in them.”
“Your people may be able to help us tend the place around them.”
“Record changes.”
“Observe what the Lady’s presence does to living things.”
“Keep others from disturbing what they do not understand.”
Unbroken Dawn brightens.
“And bring flowers.”
Ilyrane looks toward it.
“Flowers?”
“Mortals place flowers with their dead.”
Pethi’s beads catch the lamplight as the archon turns.
“I have learned this.”
Ilyrane regards Unbroken Dawn for a moment.
Then something very faint and very gentle enters her expression.
“Yes.”
She looks back to Pethi.
“Perhaps flowers.”
A pause.
“Elumis liked living things.”
Then, with a deep inclination of her head:
“If you wish to help us give the Lady the mourning she was denied…”
“We would accept that help.”