A Lost Friend

Chamenal: It’s been too long since we last spoke, Festova.

Dreri: I don’t recognize that name.

Chamenal: Then…You fell in the river?

Dreri: Fell? Was pushed? Who knows. I woke up choking and gasping for breath, struggling to reach the shore.

Chamenal: I know the Styx has its powers, but you…you lost everything?

Dreri: Everything. …But you knew me? Before?

Chamenal: Oh yes. We were very close.

Dreri: Can you prove that?

Chamenal: How could I? Your memory is gone. I have no images of us, and even if I did, they could be faked. I know what your favorite song used to be, but it is likely no longer. I could tell you what you liked for breakfast before we would set out on our journey–

Dreri: I understand. Where did you–we–journey to? Where are you from?

Chamenal: I am a deva, stationed in Elysium, beholden to Pelor.

Dreri: And I? Who do you claim I was?

Chamenal: My friend, first and foremost.

Dreri: You were allowed friends?

Chamenal: Allowed? Of course! Encouraged to have friends. Your time here amidst the fiends has hollowed you, I fear.

Dreri: Being abandoned here has hollowed me.

Chamenal: Abandoned?!

Dreri: How long have I been gone?

Chamenal: What?

Dreri: I ended up in the Styx. But how long ago? I know how long it has been. I have counted each day, notching them in the side of my boat, staring at them as I fall asleep, seeing them first when I arise. How many days?

Chamenal: I apologize, I do not know the exact number…

Dreri: Your friend, or so you claim, literally fell from heaven into the depths of Hades and you did not count the moments? You did not take stock of each breath until you could rescue her? What good are you, celestial, if you abandon those who truly need you?

Chamenal: Festova–

Dreri: DRERI. I have a name that I have chosen.

Chamenal: …Dreri. It was not so simple. I was away on a mission…

Dreri: Aha! Now I see. I was alone in the heavens, and then lost, and only after your return did you begin to seek me? What brought me down so low that I ended up swimming in hell?

Chamenal: You do not believe me, so does it matter what I tell you?

Dreri: I want to hear your words, and I will weigh them.

Chamenal: Are you going to remain in your boat this whole time?

Dreri: Yes. It is mine, and mine alone, and the only thing that is mine alone that I still hold.

Chamenal: You did not keep your armor? Your bracers of light?

Dreri: Whoever saw fit to cast me out also saw fit to strip me of my possessions. I came to in the river with nothing but common clothes on my back.

Chamenal: You have survived here well, with nothing.

Dreri: I have eked out a living. Nothing more. Who put me here? What did I do?

Chamenal: I know only secondhand, as I said, I was–

Dreri: Out, I know.

Chamenal: You, Dreri, back when you were Festova–

Dreri: If I was Festova.

Chamenal: (Firmly) I know you. I know your face. I know you are Festova as clearly as I know I am Chamenal. I cannot prove it to you, but perhaps my retelling will spark something in you.

Dreri: I would hope, but the Styx takes hope. It leaves nothing of the former life behind.

Chamenal: Let us hope together, then. Festova was a radiant aaismar. She stood tall among the denizens of Elysium, and was a proud servant of Pelor.

Dreri: (Sarcastically) A fine god that would abandon his followers in Hades.

Chamenal: You–Festova worked in the Sanctuary of the Dawn, a small but wonderful temple to Pelor nestled deep in the mountains of the Spine of the World, a place where little light is present, even during the day. Pelor’s worshipers there are few and far between, as his light is dim, but those who are there are fervent beyond all others. Those who have little taste of warmth love the fire all the more, yes?

Dreri: Are you trying to convert me, or share the story?

Chamenal: (Amused) Both, perhaps? Festova worked fervently, performing all sorts of services to those most committed followers, and ministering to those who came by on their travels in Pelor’s name. I would come visit as often as I could, and on occasion you were allowed into Elysium to bask in Pelor’s light. But then came the devil.

Dreri: A devil? On the material plane?

Chamenal: They are far more present than most realize.

Dreri: Surely we drove him out?

Chamenal: The opposite, in fact. You-Festova believed no one was irredeemable, not even the fiends themselves.

Dreri: Spending time here has shown me that is certainly not the case. Perhaps this Festova should have spent more time away from the holy and visited the unholy.

Chamenal: Perhaps. Those who always have a hearthfire see no reason anyone would be cold of heart.

Dreri: Did I enjoy your constant speaking in riddles and metaphors? Because I now find it intolerable.

Chamenal: You found it annoying then as well, though we had the bonds of long friendship to rub off the harsher edges. Regardless. You welcomed him in, this fiend, and he made himself at home. Ate much food, enjoyed the warmth of the fire. Took advantage of your endless hospitality and gave nothing in return.

Dreri: So we drove him out then?

Chamenal: There was a city nearby, about a hundred miles from Mirabar. A beautiful jewel amidst the harsh conditions of the Spine. And you loved the people there. You walked among them, spent time learning their names, sharing in their joys and their pains. The fiend, still lounging in the courtyard every time you returned, would mock you and your attachment. Then, one day, a cataclysm befell the city. I do not know what it was, exactly, but I know it was not quick. Again, I have this secondhand. This cataclysm…It was killing the city. And you could not stop it. You tried, desperately. You begged Pelor, you communed with him through one of his intermediaries, and he told you that there was another destined to rescue the city. But he was moving too slowly. He promised a savior before the city was fully destroyed, but you were there with these people who had become your family, your life, and you had to hold their hands as they withered away. Finally, on one of your returns to the temple to get more supplies, the fiend offered you a deal.

Dreri: They always do.

Chamenal: He promised he could fix the city, make everyone better. And he would do it instantaneously.

Dreri: And all it would take was my soul? That is why I was cast away?

Chamenal: He was not so direct. He did not want you to offer yourself up to him. He wanted you to remove yourself from your service to your god.

Dreri: That is offering up my soul just the same.

Chamenal: Perhaps. He agreed to heal the city if you would destroy the temple. Raze it to the ground, stone by stone. Spit upon the altar, then desecrate it. Make it a place abhorrent to Pelor.

Dreri: And so I did.

Chamenal: So you did. I believe, in my heart of hearts, that you felt you had no other choice. And you were thorough. As you were with everything. The fiend, pleased with your actions, halted the cataclysm. I believe he may have even been the source, using it to trick you into your actions.

Dreri: So Festova was a fool.

Chamenal: (Sadly) Festova was CARING. And kind. But our gods have their ways, and their rules, and you were cast out. The other followers shunned you, believing you were beholden now to this fiend. Pelor stripped you of your status, threw you away like a half-eaten chicken bone. But the city was saved. The people you loved so much survived. And a day later, the champion of Pelor arrived. And then they left, as there remained no problem for them to solve.

Dreri: …How many would have died in that intervening day?

Chamenal: Who can know such things?

Dreri: How many do you believe would have died?

Chamenal: More than a hundred.

Dreri: A building for one hundred souls seems a fair trade.

Chamenal: You more than anyone should know death on the Material Plane does not mean death eternal. Anyone who was a true follower of Pelor would have joined as a petitoner in paradise.

Dreri: But those who were not?

Chamenal: They would be sent where their souls deserved.

Dreri: And some would be sent here?

Chamenal: Almost assuredly.

Dreri: So that explains my fallen nature, but what of the Styx?

Chamenal: An example had to be made. Pelor banished you, and the fiend. You rode the coattails of the fiend into his world, and your trajectory must have landed you in the Styx. And the rest you know.

Dreri: Yes. …Say I believe you. If so, what are you offering? Why are you here?

Chamenal: I am here because I, like you, believe no one is past redemption. Come with me, return to Elysium, and petition Pelor to allow him to return to his service. Then we can be together, friends again, and bring the light to all.

Dreri: (Slowly) No.

Chamenal: (Incredulous) No?

Dreri: No. If all you say is true–

Chamenal: It is. Every word.

Dreri: Then I stand by my decision. I saved lives. And furthermore, this man here (Gestures to Angelus) He does not know me. He does not know what I have done, as I did not. He does not expect anything of me, and he definitely does not have some misguided ideal that I can return to the service of a god who abandoned me. He and his companions, who I ferry on the Styx, have offered me a path to freedom. They have a path to Sigil, and I plan to join them. You want to take me to a place I don’t understand, with people I don’t know, without curing me of the memory I have lost. I will not go with you. I would rather travel the Styx for the rest of my days if I must.

Chamenal: I…Understand. You have lost so much of yourself.

Dreri: All of myself. I had to re-form myself down here in the depths of the Grey Wastes. I have survived.

Chamenal: And what shall I tell those in your beloved city who ask of you?

Dreri: Tell them the truth: Festova is dead, never to return. Sacrificed for them. But do not tell them of who has taken her place. Let me be free in my new life, terrible as it may be some days.

Chamenal: Very well. Just know this, Festova. I did not abandon you. I have searched for you every day since I returned to find you gone. I am overjoyed to have found you, even briefly, and I will beg Pelor daily to restore your memories, if that is something he can even do. I will hold to hope that one day I will see my friend again.

Dreri: …Festova is dead. Mourn her. But do not look for her here.

Chamenal nods, a tear falling down her cheek, and vanishes. Dreri, her back to this point ramrod straight and her face neutral, falls to her knees, sobbing. The view pulls back, showing her in the boat, with the blood-red waters of the Styx in the background. The screen cuts to black with the reddish glow of the Styx tinting the bottom of the frame red as the music kicks in.

#sigil/lore