Velentham walked through the city of Westbridge, using his spells to keep himself from being seen. He took notice of a posting on a fountain, a call to action, but kept walking. There was a mission being conducted at the current time.
The falls were large and loud and for a moment, Velentham thought he had been duped. He let out a long sigh before realizing that to the right of the falls was, indeed, a path and a break in the water. Behind it was an entire cavern of sparkling crystals and a grand door. Velentham's heart halted as he pulled on the rope to announce his presence.
After only a few short moments, a rather large man came to the door. It unnerved Velentham for only an instant. "Hello. I'm sorry to disturb you. I was hoping I might have a moment to speak with the lady of the house?"
"Who are you and why are you here? Who has sent you?"
"I am here of my own accord and mean no harm. My name is Velentham Arenfeld. I knew Sanria from before."
"I'm sorry, I don't recognize your name, and I have been with Sanria for quite some time."
"You may be familiar with her planar trip then?" Velentham said.
"Yes..." The man at the door said with a scowl. Velentham pressed forward, sending calming energies into the man.
"I am from that plane."
"Well, you're obviously not the threat I may have expected..."
"Not by a long shot. I mean no harm. I am simply a friend come to say hello."
"Well, come in then," the man offered, his eyes still suspicious.
Velentham followed him into the house and looked at the grand foyer. It was truly beautiful and full of magic that kept it lit and green. He breathed in the air and it drove him giddy - the entire place smelled of her hair, her clothes - "You have come a long way," the man said, cutting into Velentham's thoughts.
"Yes. A long way indeed. I traveled with my cousin to bring him home, perhaps you know Gilean?"
"Yes, of course," the man said, relaxing a bit. "I didn't know he had met relatives during that excursion. I owe Gilean for helping to bring my Sanria home. Among other things."
'My Sanria' echoed in Velentham's mind and caused his ire to rise for an instant. Gilean took 'his' Sanria from him to bring her back to this mortal. "Yes... Gilean is good at helping things along."
"Look, there's something you should know," the man said, dropping his arms to his sides. "You see Sanria, she no longer has her memories. I'm sorry to say that it may be something of a wasted visit."
"Something like this is never a waste my friend."
And with that, a voice sounded from high above them, drifting down as though on the wings of the angels Velentham knew in person. He looked up at the sound of the voice, "Colin? Is everything alright?," and the heart in Velentham's chest fluttered with excitement. She was just as beautiful as he remembered - and she was right here.
Velentham didn't really hear anything else the man said. His eyes were fixed on Sanria as she moved down the stairs, holding an infant. From somewhere outside of his head, the buzzing coalesced into words, "We've just had a baby. Her name is Leandra."
"Congratulations," Velentham said as an afterthought.
"I'm sorry, what is your name?" Sanria said, and at the mere touch of her vision on him, Velentham smiled even more broadly.
"Velentham. Velentham Arenfeld, dear lady."
"Apparently you met him during your planar travel. He is a cousin of Gilean's too."
"The rose..." Sanria said in a near whisper, and Velentham felt a trill of excitement race down his back. She at least knew that much.
"Yes... the same."
Velentham watched the man, Colin as he remembered from Sanria's question, walk to her and put his arm around her. He knew the man was threatened, and Velentham felt himself containing his anger at the fact Colin was touching the woman he had come to take back. He couldn't let anything like that come to the fore, however - he had to gain acceptance first, then he would go to Sanria.
Velentham lifted their child, Leandra, into his arms. The tiny infant was a minature of her mother, but blonde, and Velentham felt a twinge of jealousy. This child should belong to him. He kissed the baby on the forehead, sending a wave of joy into the child, causing her to smile in her sleep.
"I hope you don't take offense to my forwardness," Colin began after the child was secure in Sanria's arms again, "but you... aren't human?"
It was the moment he had been waiting for. Velentham unfurled his wings from his back and set his skin to glowing. His eyes drifted to Sanria as he shimmered, and what he saw there pleased him. "I am a Celestial."
"You're beautiful," she replied.
Careful not to overstep his own plans, Velentham faded his wings back into invisibility and looked over at Colin who had shielded his eyes. "I know of your people," Colin said, "but I can't say that I have ever seen one of you in these realms."
"Yes... most of the time my people make their home on Elysium, a plane far from here."
"Now that you have accompanied Gilean here will you be returning there?"
The game was afoot, and Velentham knew it. At the mention of Gilean and his home - the place that for now was well beyond his reach - Velentham stifled a scowl. "Not for some time, I'm afraid."
"Really? Do you have a different destination?"
"I've arrived at my destination, actually."
"Here?" Sanria asked.
"Indeed," Velentham replied.
Into the Fray
Telfenham stayed up the days and nights it required to create trinkets. It sapped his very essence as he embued them each with the energies of Elysium. They would wear them in the hopes that the deeper they descended they would not lose their minds. Sweat beaded on his brow. Their very lives depended upon these amulets. Stealth would be their primary weapon, for to even try to defeat the many denizens of the deep hells would mean certain and swift death.
After a final look upon the trinkets, Telfenham gave them to his son, Gilean, and himself. After giving warnings, he took a deep breath. With the skill of a practiced surgeon, Telfenham sliced through the shimmering fabric of his reality. The vast emptiness of the outer plane itself rolled into the darkness of eternity. Various planes shimmered within Telfenham's trained eyesight. Gilean and Velentham behind him, Telfenham drifted swiftly for a time until the spill of demons alerted him to the outer boundaries of Hell.
Their spells kept them out of sight, their amulets kept them calm, and Tel- fenham uttered whispered words which opened a rend in the side of Avernus. The men slipped into the fracture and floated slowly downward. The land- scape was bleak and red blood ran in shimmying rivulets that stunk with the scent of iron. The skies flashed within their dark blanket of clouds, and lightning arced across, electrifying the air.
Telfenham looked over at his son in silence. This traversal would only be the first of many layers of hell. He said a silent prayer as they walked over the barren wasteland. From where they entered, the massive pillar of skulls that marked the way to the second level towered into the sky. It would take all his knowledge of spells to keep them from being discovered and getting killed, but he knew deep down it would take far more to keep his son alive. It would take everything.
After a final look upon the trinkets, Telfenham gave them to his son, Gilean, and himself. After giving warnings, he took a deep breath. With the skill of a practiced surgeon, Telfenham sliced through the shimmering fabric of his reality. The vast emptiness of the outer plane itself rolled into the darkness of eternity. Various planes shimmered within Telfenham's trained eyesight. Gilean and Velentham behind him, Telfenham drifted swiftly for a time until the spill of demons alerted him to the outer boundaries of Hell.
Their spells kept them out of sight, their amulets kept them calm, and Tel- fenham uttered whispered words which opened a rend in the side of Avernus. The men slipped into the fracture and floated slowly downward. The land- scape was bleak and red blood ran in shimmying rivulets that stunk with the scent of iron. The skies flashed within their dark blanket of clouds, and lightning arced across, electrifying the air.
Telfenham looked over at his son in silence. This traversal would only be the first of many layers of hell. He said a silent prayer as they walked over the barren wasteland. From where they entered, the massive pillar of skulls that marked the way to the second level towered into the sky. It would take all his knowledge of spells to keep them from being discovered and getting killed, but he knew deep down it would take far more to keep his son alive. It would take everything.
Water
Velentham appeared at Gilean's side, his silver eyes locked on the vibrant sway of the grass as it shivered in the light breeze. "It appears we are related," Velentham said, his throat seizing up as though trying to close around a rock.
"It appears that way."
"Yes... funny thing, fate."
There was nothing more to say. What more could be said? At least if he tried to get along with Gilean, Velentham would make his father happy. In truth, it would be the only thing that would save them on their journey. Though he didn't want to see it before, in his calmer mind, Velentham had to admit to the truth.
"Your father says that you will insist in following us, even knowing what following would mean. Is that truly so?" Gilean asked.
"I love her, Gilean. I mean that. Her soul was like no other I've encountered. She needed me and once she got better..." Velentham trailed off, remembering Sanria. The way she would laugh, the loving touch she lavished on the leaves of the trees. The smile she would give to him on their many walks together. "She isn't like our people."
"Listen, I can understand your feelings. I truly can," Gilean said. "When I first saw Claire... she struck something in me. Once I got to know her, I longed to tell her. To let her know how I felt. I took her out to eat. Do you know what happened? Just when I was about to tell her she told me all about this wonderful man who had given her these flowers. She was so excited about it. So I held my tongue. It wasn't right for me to disrupt her budding interest by suddenly professing my love for her."
"But she loved me, too, Gilean. This was no woman coming to me with another interest. She loved me. She wanted to stay here, with me. She already loved me."
"Did she love _you_, or was it this place, the escape, the freedom, that she loved?"
"Even those who come to Elysium and forget don't just fall in love with the first Celestial they see. You know this. She may have forgotten her past, but she loved me. I can't just give up, Gilean."
The two men stood speaking with relative calm for the first time since the discovery of Gilean's traitorous past. The conversation flowed like water, about love, about their family's past within the Celestial community. At last, though knowing Gilean was a pacifist, Velentham pulled a blade from thin air. It's metal lacked all shine, so dark was its edge. "This... is the Blackblood. It has slain many of the foul denizens of the Nine Hells. It swims with the blood of the demons it has taken. Its metal is as though it were living - thirsting for the drink of the evil. It will guide itself true."
Velentham sheathed Blackblood and held it out to Gilean. Though the man shied, eventually he took the offered weapon and Velentham knew all would be well in the Nine Hells. He bent space to arrive at his father's side, where he put an easy hand on the shoulder of the elder. "I am sorry, father." At the embrace of the elder Celestial, everything would indeed be alright.
"It appears that way."
"Yes... funny thing, fate."
There was nothing more to say. What more could be said? At least if he tried to get along with Gilean, Velentham would make his father happy. In truth, it would be the only thing that would save them on their journey. Though he didn't want to see it before, in his calmer mind, Velentham had to admit to the truth.
"Your father says that you will insist in following us, even knowing what following would mean. Is that truly so?" Gilean asked.
"I love her, Gilean. I mean that. Her soul was like no other I've encountered. She needed me and once she got better..." Velentham trailed off, remembering Sanria. The way she would laugh, the loving touch she lavished on the leaves of the trees. The smile she would give to him on their many walks together. "She isn't like our people."
"Listen, I can understand your feelings. I truly can," Gilean said. "When I first saw Claire... she struck something in me. Once I got to know her, I longed to tell her. To let her know how I felt. I took her out to eat. Do you know what happened? Just when I was about to tell her she told me all about this wonderful man who had given her these flowers. She was so excited about it. So I held my tongue. It wasn't right for me to disrupt her budding interest by suddenly professing my love for her."
"But she loved me, too, Gilean. This was no woman coming to me with another interest. She loved me. She wanted to stay here, with me. She already loved me."
"Did she love _you_, or was it this place, the escape, the freedom, that she loved?"
"Even those who come to Elysium and forget don't just fall in love with the first Celestial they see. You know this. She may have forgotten her past, but she loved me. I can't just give up, Gilean."
The two men stood speaking with relative calm for the first time since the discovery of Gilean's traitorous past. The conversation flowed like water, about love, about their family's past within the Celestial community. At last, though knowing Gilean was a pacifist, Velentham pulled a blade from thin air. It's metal lacked all shine, so dark was its edge. "This... is the Blackblood. It has slain many of the foul denizens of the Nine Hells. It swims with the blood of the demons it has taken. Its metal is as though it were living - thirsting for the drink of the evil. It will guide itself true."
Velentham sheathed Blackblood and held it out to Gilean. Though the man shied, eventually he took the offered weapon and Velentham knew all would be well in the Nine Hells. He bent space to arrive at his father's side, where he put an easy hand on the shoulder of the elder. "I am sorry, father." At the embrace of the elder Celestial, everything would indeed be alright.
Blood is Thicker Than...
Velentham's mouth fell open and he groped blindly for the chair behind him. He had listened in irrational rage as his father spoke to Gilean. Now, as he flopped into the chair, he had a new understanding. A new reality to endure. Gilean was his cousin.
Suddenly the extended allowances Telfenham had made on behalf of the lesser celestial was clear. He was doing it for his sister, and for himself. Somehow, Velentham reasoned, his father felt guilty. Both he and his sister had what they considered "wayward" children. Telfenham, he reasoned, was trying to fix what was wrong.
Velentham did not reach out to his father, for through the fabric of the plane, he felt that the elder was bowed beneath the weight of grief. The elder's mind was on his sister, on their family, on their failures. Through this pain, Velentham's anger dried up and his rage slowed. He now understood why his father seemed bent on gaining their reconciliation. He had to be.
Velentham stared into the flames, severing his connection with his father. Better to let the elder celestial be with his own thoughts and not hold the burden of Velentham's too. Velentham sighed deeply. He would have to go and visit Gilean. They would have to straighten this out before they took even a step toward the hells. Velentham rose with a deep breath, and folded reality.
Suddenly the extended allowances Telfenham had made on behalf of the lesser celestial was clear. He was doing it for his sister, and for himself. Somehow, Velentham reasoned, his father felt guilty. Both he and his sister had what they considered "wayward" children. Telfenham, he reasoned, was trying to fix what was wrong.
Velentham did not reach out to his father, for through the fabric of the plane, he felt that the elder was bowed beneath the weight of grief. The elder's mind was on his sister, on their family, on their failures. Through this pain, Velentham's anger dried up and his rage slowed. He now understood why his father seemed bent on gaining their reconciliation. He had to be.
Velentham stared into the flames, severing his connection with his father. Better to let the elder celestial be with his own thoughts and not hold the burden of Velentham's too. Velentham sighed deeply. He would have to go and visit Gilean. They would have to straighten this out before they took even a step toward the hells. Velentham rose with a deep breath, and folded reality.
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