#azata path

Aranka: "Wallflower, I've told you so many times, you have an amazing voice! So deep, so striking… I'd have you trained up in a snap if only you wanted to sing!" Thall: "Sing? Me…? Just… no. Besides, I don't like being on show like that. Oh, look, Commander is here! It's probably something urgent!"

Ilkes: "Don't you miss the city, Aranka? People used to pack into the square to hear you sing." Aranka: "Il, you're hilarious. Of course I don't! What Desnan bard would actually miss the city? It's here that I have all of you and a magic garden in the middle of the Worldwound. But even if I didn't have that, even I was entirely alone, I could always sing for the clouds and the wind!"

Thall: "I'd love to see what Aivu will be like when she grows up. Adult dragons of her kind possess unique abilities. That said, that story about being able to breathe candy is probably made up."

"All three Desnan adepts are busy. Ilkes is praying, Aranka is practicing a new song, and Thall is immersed in his scrolls, stealing the occasional glance at Aranka."

Ilkes: "I never thought I'd ever meet someone like Arueshalae. She's a demon who wants to be better, she's been chosen by Desna, and she's… incredible. The times we live in are terrifying, but when miracles like this happen, you just can't help but believe that hope is shining bright and the world is changing for the better."

Ilkes: "I-It can't be! Are we… flying?!" Thall: "More like floating. Wallflower is calm and collected compared to the others, but his eyes are alight in a way you've never seen before. Our Court is now a floating island." Aranka: "Oh, Commander, is there no limit to the wonders that happen around you and because of you?" ... Aranka: "I can't believe this is all for real! It's just awesome! But… Wallflower, please tell me you have a couple levitation spells handy for us to get down safely!"

Amie Verdier, NG tiefling Hunter from the River Kingdoms, follower of Desna. Romancing Lann. Amie was my second character ever, actually, after Lorraine. She was first a Ranger before I realized I basically just recreated Arueshalae so she got respec-ed to Nature Shaman and then Hunter. She has an elk named Clover. The idea for her game was to get as many companions animal companions as possible and then share out my Teamwork Feats with Life Bonding Friendship. But I've restarted her game like, four times? Eventually I admitted she just wasn't catching my interest.

Angelina Ylvaris, CN->CG half-elf Bard from Mendev, follower of Calistria. Romancing Daeran. Angelina was my depression game, where I was starting to want to play video games again but I wasn't able to interact with mechanics so I just went through the game exploding all the enemies with Toybox. She got up to the end of Act III, but I've kind of lost interest in her game because it doesn't have any mechanical depth and it reminds me of when I was in a bad place.

Could this truly be the end?

And she, no more than a spectator?

No—she must come to peace with it. She’d done her part all these hundred years and more. Worked until days and nights bled together into a ceaseless, weary march. Fought until her bones felt they would crack under the blows. The black blood of the balor Khorramzadeh stained her white-and-gold armor but even that felt like a trivial victory next to what the Knight-Commander faced even at this moment.

She could only hold vigil. Watch and hope.

If he failed and the Abyss was unleashed she and her armies would never have time to retreat; they would all perish here. Their lives, the future of Mendev and that of Golarion itself hung in the balance and all she could do was helplessly search the maelstrom over Threshold for a sign.

And pray. But she’d been doing that so fervently for so long it felt like empty, rote words now, a senseless child’s rhyme answered only with silence. The Inheritor had come down from the Heavens not to her, but to Siavash Mirani, some feckless Andoren diplomat with no title and no heroic deeds to his name, just a guitar and a charming smile.

And, she reminded herself, a genius for rallying the myriad forces of good to one final, triumphant push against the Abyss, guided not by careful planning but what could only be divinely inspired reckless impulse. So be it, she told herself for the hundredth time. If it was Desna’s star that guided them to victory who was she, the faded old Paladin Queen, to think she could outshine it?

She felt rather than heard them gathering, common soldiers and generals alike, shoulder to shoulder, all watching, all holding their breath, all daring to hope.

That was it, wasn’t it? Hope. After four failed crusades Galfrey herself no longer inspired such emotion. But Siavash did, rising from the ashes of Kenabres to victory after victory with his songs and his azata wings and his arms that embraced all, even those Galfrey’s Mendev had rejected and disdained.

And after all, she too dared to hope.

That was why she was here on the ridge rather than spending her final hours in her chapel tent in meditation. In tense and silent vigil she watched daylight wane, and by the time the baleful purple Abyssal lights began to soften she wasn’t sure if it was a trick of a mind deeply fatigued by decades of fighting. Of eyes that had hardly dared to blink in a century.

But she heard a murmur go up around her and felt a thrill in her heart such as she hadn’t since she was a blushing debutante.

No, her eyes did not deceive her—from Threshold there now grew a rosy hue like a spring dawn, lighting the angry clouds from below. The boiling storm began to contract and retreat, dark vapors dissipating on a fresh breeze.

A roar rose around Galfrey. Awed voices, so moved they could only moan incoherently.

Her eyes grew round and her vision swam; and suddenly, refracted through the pools of weary tears blazed a vast, glorious rainbow that split the night sky like a holy blade. Dazzled she squeezed her eyes shut just as her heart too squeezed with an ache that was deep and old and bitter.

Could it be?

Over at last?

“Inheritor.” Her breath rushed out in a sob.

If she weren’t the Queen she might have fallen to her knees as the rest of the crusaders did, but instead she stood rigid at their head, her breast rising and falling like that of a panicked bird.

And then Threshold lit up like an enormous Elysian beacon, beams of spring sunlight exploding from its walls, a shockwave of unearthly force blasting through the crusader ranks and nearly toppling her, and then like a gargantuan breath sucked back in, another shockwave blew through them from behind and nearly knocked them off the ridge.

Now the ridge and the valley all around her erupted into triumphant shouts and she felt her shoulders buffeted as crusaders surged forth roaring to greet the new dawn.

Something in Galfrey gave way then. Crumbled like a dam of sand.