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.