#emhira

I would have been lost without you. Thank you for guiding me, and always protecting me.

I don’t think you ever needed me as a guardian, though it was my life’s honour to do so.

—

Emhira, the matron of Ravens, sees no reason not to bring the city down. Death is inevitable. The Raven Queen does not quarrel with resurrection, and she does not quarrel with killing, because all souls come to her, sooner or later - what's a few decades more or less? What's the point of risking herself and the family she's joined, the order she's created, for the sake of postponing death?

Ayden, the Dawnfather, is the god of light and life and growing things. Those druid levels aren't for show; he's the god of agriculture. He looks at Aeor and sees that a harvest may yet come from barren ground. It's not in his nature to tear out roots; it's his nature to help things grow. You can't heal everything. You always have to try.

Silaha, the Arch Heart, looks at Aeor and sees its beauty. It's full of magic. Silaha is not opposed to destroying Aeor, because beauty never lasts: a flower dies, a spell fades, a shining tower falls. But neither is he convinced that Aeor has to die, because beauty is something to be treasured and cherished. Let's relax, let's get a drink, let's think this through. Beauty is wonderful, whether it lasts or not.

Asha, the Wildmother, wants to survive, because that is what wild things do. Predators kill to eat, and prey kills to defend itself. Aeor has backed her into a corner, and her fangs are bared. Nature is death as well as life, nature is brutal, nature endures at all costs. Civilisation no longer speaks to her. She's hungry. She's angry. Her teeth are looking for a throat, ready to tear, ready to protect what is hers.