Written April 20th 12:03 PM

A wave of Ace’s healing magic washed over Ailith and she opened her eyes, gasping as she regained consciousness. She was still wrapped in the marilith’s tail and she could hear her ribs starting to creak under the pressure. She thrashed wildly, technique thrown out the window in her desperation. She had to get to Elijah, or whatever form he was taking this time.

Ailith threw an elbow back, feeling the crunch of bone on bone as the marilith shrieked and loosened its grasp minutely. It was enough for her to wriggle free, landing heavily on her hands and knees. She gave herself enough time to take an actual breath before she rose to her feet, cane gripped tightly in her hand.

Elijah stood apart from the main fray, watching and waiting. Shaking out her fists, Ailith stalked towards him, feeling the thrilling tingle of her tattoos coming to life. The thorns inked into her skin shifted, impatiently waiting to be unleashed. Elijah snorted and began pawing at the ground with his foot – hoof? Ailith had seen this move before — albeit from a much less demonic looking minotaur — and knew he was about to charge.

Rolling her shoulders, Ailith let out a yell as she wound up and brought her cane swinging around her. Inky tendrils whipped out towards Elijah, wrapping around his neck. He let out a roar as the thorns dug in and he swatted madly, grabbing at his neck. Ailith held fast to her cane, letting Elijah’s thrashing pull her closer. In this form, Elijah was huge; he towered over her, snorting wildly in frustration. Ailith yanked on her cane, forcing Elijah to bow down until his giant head was level with her. She reached up with one hand to grab onto one of his horns, holding him in place as he continued to thrash against her thorns.

Ailith leaned in close, ignoring the putrid smell of Elijah’s breath to get right into his face, staring deep into his inhuman eyes. “I want you to remember,” Ailith whispered, the words for him and him alone, “wherever you end up, that you can’t fucking beat me.” Ailith relished the fear and anger that filled Elijah’s eyes as she released her cane and brought her other hand up to grab at his jaw. Letting out a shout that carried with it all the pain, fear, and anger Elijah had put her through, she adjusted her grip on his head and twisted viciously. In an echo of that day in Rayne all those months ago, Elijah’s neck broke with a snap and his minotaur form fell back, lifeless.

It’s done. She didn’t know how, but she knew that Elijah wouldn’t be coming back again. She could stop looking over her shoulder, could stop waiting for Elijah to pop out of an alley wearing a different body. Thank the gods. Ailith swayed on her feet as the burst of adrenaline faded from her body, leaving her limbs tingling and her nerves sparking. Her vision grew spotty as she pressed a hand to her aching ribs, vaguely aware of the blood dripping down her arm as she did so; those mariliths must have done a number on her while she was unconscious.

“Ailith!” Pine trees and fresh air wafted over her as her knees began to buckle. Before she could hit the ground, strong hands were holding onto her, never letting her fall.

In the beginning, Ailith found herself daydreaming while Ace conversed with the Every Shadow. It wasn’t like she didn’t respect Ace’s faith, she just didn’t understand it. She couldn’t comprehend putting your faith in something intangible, some being that came to you in visions of smoke.

Things she could see and feel — Ailith had no problem believing in those (unless it was ghosts, in which case, absolutely fuck that). She had just never been one for religion. No god had ever shown themselves to her, let alone taken her under their wing and protected her. Lolth had made a deal with her, but that was far from benevolent. If anything, Ailith respected Lolth all the more for her transparency and utter lack of bullshit. Ailith was fine ignoring the gods, simply viewing it as returning the favour for their utter lack of attention.

As time went on and Ace’s connection to the Every Shadow grew, and it became increasingly obvious that the other members of her party were all chosen by some god or other (except Xiv, of course, but they would soon be a god in their own right, Ailith was sure of it) Ailith began to feel the familiar twinge of jealousy in her gut. The feeling of not having what everyone else did that used to plague her as a child. She hated that it rattled her, but she couldn’t help but wonder why she wasn’t deemed special enough to have a god choose her.

She avoided talking it about it, of course. She knew Feyra and Talus didn’t exactly have the best relationships with their gods, and she could do without Ace preaching at her about the virtues of the Every Shadow. Instead, Ailith focused on what she knew was real: her friendships, her training, her budding relationship with Feyra. The feeling of butterflies quickly began replacing the pit of jealousy inside her, and Ailith soon stopped dwelling on the machinations of the gods.

It came up once when Feyra, in a rare outburst, yelled at Ailith about how special she was. The heat behind Feyra’s words took Ailith by surprise — not to mention sparked a match desire inside her, but that was something to be examined a different day. Ailith hadn’t given thought to feeling inferior to her adventuring party in ages. She didn’t need to; she knew who she was, and what she was capable of. She didn’t need a god or magic to tell her she was something rare and powerful.

Ailith knew what had changed. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she didn’t need a god to choose her when she had Feyra, who had always seen Ailith and recognized the power in her. Who had always made Ailith feel chosen, who was a constant safe harbour. What — who — else could Ailith possibly need?

In Feyra’s arms she had shelter. In Feyra’s heart she had acceptance. In Feyra’s eyes she was known. Said on Feyra’s breath her name was a prayer. With Feyra’s fingertips, lips, and tongue she was anointed with holy water.

Ailith could worship at the altar of her love every morning and every night, and it would never be enough. The others could keep their gods. Ailith was happy to kneel and recite the sermon of her and Feyra until the earth crumbled beneath her.

Written April 3rd 2022 10:10 PM

Ailith wasn’t religious. She wasn’t pious, holy, saintly, or devout. She didn’t believe there was a higher power out there somewhere looking over her. Sure, the gods existed – more than one of her party had conversed with several of them. But that didn’t mean they were kind, or benevolent, or even aware of their followers, let alone Ailith, at all. And it certainly didn’t mean that Ailith felt any kind of compulsion to dedicate any of her time and effort to thinking about them, except to occasionally curse their very existence. So far, they hadn’t seemed to care. She took this as yet further proof to her point.

Ailith was a follower of no one and nothing. And yet, kneeling at the end up of the bed, looking up to where Feyra lay with her head thrown back and her eyes closed tight, her fingers digging into their sheets until her knuckles were white… Ailith finally understood what it meant to worship something.