Dream a Little Dream (Epilogue)

[Flann]

For most Gods and Goddesses, the big picture is all that matters. Control of cities and continents, worlds. For Love, it's the boring details. A stranger doing an act of kindness. A mother comforting a crying child. A man working the fields to feed his family. Rescuing an innocent and taking them directly out of the jaws of the enemy is also sweet, but is more the frosting on the cake. The real work begins when everyone gets back home.   

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"The power of my Goddess, Solerei. While I traveled the planes with Her, it was Her power I channeled to defeat Her foes. I thought I was strong enough to save us, to defeat that thing..." Looking down, Terryl whispers "I disobeyed an order, battle leader. I failed you and my Goddess."

Solerei looks at Terryl. They had been back in Faydark for just a few moments. Confused for a moment, she remembers Terryl had said he would explain how his powers had increased. She nods, puts a hand on his shoulder. When he looks up, she gives him her patented look of "ok, but don't let it happen again".

Flann had gone off a bit and whistled, meanwhile. Over the hill comes Melody, with his favorite armor strapped to her. She is happy to see Flann, and "accidentally" bowls him over. He rolls around on the ground, laughing, while she noses at him.

Vannis and Larielle stand mute, looking at each other. Solerei senses there is more in that look, though. She recalls how they could speak mind to mind. How special is that? And potentially a pain in the arse, she thinks, looking at Flann playing with Melody, both of his socks in ribbons and barely on his feet at all. Maybe they really were lucky socks... bah! Now she's catching it.

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The being becomes aware. It thinks, then realizes it is thinking. Memory begins to sift back in, slowly. The tall woman with the bow. It had known her for what she was, an avatar of a power in direct opposition to the root of his own power. And the woman had defeated him... he calls himself him now. He hates her! Hate! Grabbing hold of that feeling, he revels in it, gains power from it. The being starts to rebuild himself in the cracks of this place, knowing that soon he will have the strength to call one of his minions to feed on. Not yet. Too weak. But soon. Then there shall be revenge!