The hour was half past four. As the humid warmth of the day had reached its crux, the coolness of the night drew ever closer. Through the stained glass at the Church of Rilauvin, the moody sky shifted its hues and offered a mingle of blood orange, mixed with the purple, and black of night. The wall sconces, which normally offered a cool blue light seemed to flicker with violet energy. Down the halls of the church, the downtrodden and destitute made to their quarters, as those who were content with their prayers, left out the open front gate.

While the day may have been over for most, Father Nanill patiently waved goodbye to a young boy who had offered confession. As he sits down in his small cathedra, the door doesn’t have a chance to close, as one person leaves, another comes in. His eyes don’t leave the paper – for he is no stranger to long hours, with breaks few and far between. He does notice however an icy blue hue, from the confessor’s belt. As they sit on the opposite side of the wall, the source of the light; a small lantern, with simple decoration is placed in the slot between them. A magical spell is triggered, and between them, neither can see the other; for the light of the lamp has now completely consumed the wall and made his darkvision fail.

There is silence.

“You’ve come to confess. Would that be correct?” He begins, turning a page of his journal, dipping a quill in a fresh pot.

“Yes, that would be.”

The familiarity of the voice makes his eye twitch. He drops the quill, and ink splats the page. With a shaking hand, he picks up the quill, and turns the page, as if the mistake did not happen. This would be the first time they’ve spoken since the incident that plagued his mind all yesterday and morn.

“I-I see… Have you sinned?”

“Maybe. What I seek is guidance.”

“I’m all ears, miss…?”

“I’d rather remain anonymous, if that’s alright with you.”

“I suppose it must.”

“Well, alright then. May I begin?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a friend. He’s dear to me. In the beginning, he seemed like the kind of person that despite raising all my suspicions…Despite being the kind of person who I should fear…I did not. Maybe I can see something that others cannot, in him. Something that he himself does not see. Does that make sense?”

“Sense enough. Please, continue.”

“This person became very close to me. Perhaps closer than anyone else has gotten before. I think it was that way for him too. He’s shy. Timid. But he’s courageous, and determined. He has the zeal of a knight, but the grace of a priest. Maybe this is why I was so drawn to him. Where in others I saw wanton cruelty, and indifference, he was the opposite. Everything he did, was for a greater purpose. And his eyes…Bluer than mine. They tell the world that what lies behind them is good.”

“…”

“As I’ve grown to know him, and his habits, I’ve learned that those blue eyes hide more than goodness. There’s something else inside there, that’s been growing ever since the day we met. It only comes out in flashes or waves, but there’s no denying the presence. At first, it seemed to invigorate him. Make him capable of new and greater things. Offer a type of strength he maybe didn’t have before. But the days keep passing. Realize it or not, the person I met, I think, is being replaced with someone else. Someone who wants control, so that they can act unrestrained. That’s where I’m the most confused. This other…Personality…Person…I truly don’t know what to call it…Is chained by the will of this man. He doesn’t get to do what he wants, in fact, he’s relentlessly put down and sedated, again, all for the greater good.”

“I told this person, my friend…That I would be by their side until the end. But what happens if they’re the first to go? I think he’s afraid of death. He seeks to avoid it… But there are more ways to die than one.”

There is silence, again. Not even the scratching of the quill on vellum.

“…Y-you fear, that this man may die in his pursuits?”

“I fear that he’s already dead.”

The drow in the corner’s eyes twitch.

“A-and..You worry…Where would this leave you…In all of this…”

“At first, yes. But I fear not just for me, or him, anymore. Someone else, too. Who’s not here yet, but will be.”

His eyes widen, and his shaking hand cracks the quill in half, sending splinters in every direction.

“What would you do, Father? Do you let fate spin its wheel, or wedge your foot between it and the ground? Do you know what I mean when I say this?”

“I do.” He croaks out.

“I understand this is a lot to take in…I apologize for burdening you with my problems…But this matter is of the utmost importance to me. I need to know if I’m on the right path. In that way, I think I’m a lot like him.”

Silence. Crickets chirp outside the window, as the dusk becomes night. The leaves of the bushes and trees rustle in the garden as the wind flows freely through them.

“I…I’m normally not lost for words. But, here, I find myself perplexed… Your…Friend…You seem to care about him greatly, but this care ought…Ought not discount the care you must exhibit towards yourself…Or others…Would you mind if I told you a story? A story that I believe relates to your problem greatly.”

“Of course Father. I came here for a reason, after all.”

He clears his throat.

“A long long time ago, I knew a man. Due to my travels, we hadn’t the time nor the means to keep correspondence as might have liked. He was the boastful, jovial type, and I more meek. But one day, where I least expected…We passed upon the stairs. There, we spoke of was and when. Although I was oft not there, he said I was his friend, which came as a surprise. I looked into his eyes and he said…

“I thought you died alone. A long long time ago.”

“Me? Oh no. Not me.”

He smirked. “We never lost control. You see…You’re face to face, with the man who sold the world!”

I laughed, and shook his hand. And made my way back home. I searched for foreign land, and for years, and years I roamed. Until I stopped, and gazed a gazeless stare.

It was then I realized, he had never left my side, or I his. Together we walked a million hills, and found our home. But when I tried to follow him through the door, what was on the other side was not what he saw, or where he went. As I stood in the mouth of my residence, I realized he stood somewhere else. Somewhere that was eternal and grey. With sand like volcanic glass, and water without hue. Though I could see him in my mind, I could not with my eyes. And that’s when I realized…He was the one that would die alone. “

“What became of this man, this friend of yours?”

“Who knows? Not me. I NEVER, lost control.”

He stands up suddenly, startling the woman in the confession booth. He turns his back to her, and stares into his own reflection in the darkened glass behind him.

“You’re face to face, with the man who sold the world.”

“F-Father?”

The shadow of arm movement looms on the other side of the chamber. The sound of jagged metal clinks and crashes to the ground. A pitter, patter, follows.

“Who knows? Not me. We never lost control… You’re face to face with that man who sold the world!”

He waves a hand over the blue lantern, snuffing its light. He pulls it out of the slot, and drops it on the table behind him, completely opening the wall between them. He sees her, and she sees him.

The woman he loves. The man she fears.

On his eyes, two freshly cut scars. Blue ink carved into the shape of two vertical lines going through his eyes. He wipes the blood surrounding the indents, and flicks it with a hand towel left on the table. Her mouth is stuck ajar, and her eyes wide with shock.

The fiery crimson that was consuming his pupils is no more. At first, the pools are murky, but as they lock eyes, the bright red is expelled from his face, and flashes in the room for no more than an instant. In the fallout, his eyes glow a familiar, icy glow. White and teal energy bellows brightly, as his face is healed around the scars – the blue ink setting in permanently.

They embrace, and there is passion between them. They lock eyes, they lock lips, and when Nanill pulls away, he wraps his hands around her face, and pulls her back.

They both pause for breath.

“I…Don’t…Want to…Lose you…”

“I…Am not lost…”

He lets go of her, and shoves everything off his desk hastily. He pulls the mat that covers the wood to reveal a hidden compartment of the desk. He rips it open, and pulls a box out of it. When he turns around, her hands are over her face, in disbelief.

He allows himself to fall to his knees. He rips the box in two, revealing it to be the container of single ring. Caste in the shape of a coiled, golden snake, with blue diamond eyes. Hands shaking, he takes her hand, and before he can muster the use of his voice, she takes his hand, shoving the ring on the appropriate finger.

She leans in, to embrace him, and they both fall over onto the ground, clumsily. He squeezes her, and takes her face in his hands once more, pulling her nose to his.

“Listen to me. My name is Nanill Vandree. 8th of the set, born on a Sunday at dawn. I am the acting voice of the god of whispers. I am the son of the underdark. Nothing I do, nothing I say, nothing I become, will change who I am at my core. So long as this blue fire burns in my heart, my mind stays true. And the truth is, in this moment, at this very time and place, I love you. I need you. So long as I draw breath, harm will not come to you. So long as you are mine, not even death may claim you, should you wish it so. What you dream, I shall make manifest. This, I swear.”

“What if my dream is to join you in the life after this one? For the war you fight to be over?”

He looks away.

“I will find a way.”

“My love, you always say that, but I don’t know if even you know what you mean by that.”

“That’s because you’re right, my beloved Naminé. My light of lights. It is said that the mere hint of something grants it power. Begins the birth of its truthfulness. In the face of blatant ignorance, vernacular actualization makes manifest what seems impossible. I found this path… I came to be who I am today, by blindly walking the halls of the mysterious. The truly unknown. I contend that I will continue to walk such a path, until my embrace is not that of a man, a lich, or an elf, but of a God!”

“Nanill…”

“In the house of God, what is said, is so! None may challenge the divine right. Nothing can separate me from my destiny, and you from yours, with me. I promise…No…I swear…No….I INSIST!”  Nanill finishes proudly, a fist towards the sky.

He looks down towards Naminé, who is sitting up next to him, eyes glazed with both admiration and uncertainty.

He puts a finger on her chin, and smiles as genuinely as he ever has in his life.

“Its normal to be afraid, or uncertain. If we already knew, we’d already be there, wouldn’t we?”

She smiles back.

“That’s true. You know, you’ve always had a way with words.”

The smile consumes the drow’s face, and a joyous tear rolls down his eye, to be wiped by the soft fingers of the most important person in his world.

“I’ll stick by your side. No matter what. I’ll see it to the end. If that happens first…”

“You’ll see. They’ll all see.” He replies.

There is silence between them, as they hug each other and look towards the night through the glass windows of the confession chamber.

Some moments pass, of an indeterminate amount. Then, the still is broken by a knock on the door. Four eyes dart towards it, curiously.

“E-Excuse me f-father…I…I k-know it’s a f-few minutes past the h-hour for confession. B-but…The y-young l-lady a-ahead of me…W-went o-over her time…C-Could I still…?”

Before he can finish, the door is swung open from the inside. A beaming, but hooded young lady exits between the stranger, the door, and Nanill, who holds it open graciously.

“Of course. Come right in.”

‘T-Thank you Father Nhil…”

“Please, my son. Two things. Come sit down, and make yourself comfortable. There’s bread, cheese on the table. Secondly… Call me Nanill.”

The budding mother who has exited, closes the door gently behind her, and wipes her eyes proudly.

Somewhere else, maybe not here, a single, strained eye narrows.