Tales From the Well of Worlds

by CrimsonLotus

The Tale of Aerylle's Lost Love • Talilissa's Tale • Tales from the Radiant Path • Tales from the Hive

Sigil ... Preludes I-II-III • Book One

The Tale of Aerylle's Lost Love

This is the story of Aerylle, and it relates the events that brought her to find new life and new love in Sigil.

- The Archivist, your narrator

The Season of Renewal had just begun, for the gardens of Imej were in full bloom after a particularly cold Season of the Mother's Sleep. Naturally, the plants within the city walls did not suffer - the arch-mages charged with the maintenance of the city's aesthetics had shrouded the neatly lined orchards, abstract flower beds, and endless hillocks of exotic foliage in a mantle of warmth. But that was the way of Imej, one of the foremost cities of the grey elves, the noblest of the Elven races who, first amongst all, greeted the light of the Three Suns at Dawn in their mountain idylls of gold, ivory and marble. Of all surface elves, it was the grey elves who claimed to be the firstborn of the creator god Corellon Larethian and his consort Sehaine Moonbow, whom the High Elves call Sehanine. That was in myth, but the society of Imej had grown around that myth as its unifying principle: that all elves were but pale reflections of grey elves' direct link with the creator divinities.

So it was that Aerylle, daughter of a family with a long and distinguished history as master bookbinders, returned to the snow-capped peaks which surrounded her native city. The last sun had just begun to set, its warm, red glow covering the fluted, golden spires in a pink radiance and reflecting off the pure white marble paving stones of the great boulevards which lined the thin, winding streets. Her journey had been long through a number of difficult mountain passes which, by the magical genius of the elves, could be navigated by levitating disks of force. Finally, however, Aerylle had returned for a season's rest from the Academy of the Second Sun where she had specialised in Divination and learnt the rudiments of spellcraft, literature and the arts. All, in other words, that an elven lady of some standing would require to undertake a rich, successful life. It had not been without regret that Aerylle had left the Academy, for with it, she had also left her friend and sometime lover, Ennaeli, with whom she had always maintained a close and intense relationship.

In any case, she knew she would return after the end of the Season of Renewal, so there was no profound sadness, merely a sense of bittersweet longing, an emotion for which grey elves had a precise word - isailha - which cannot be adequately rendered in another tongue. Now, though, as the last sun set and the air grew a little cooler, it was time to see her family. Aerylle walked down the familiar paths off the Street of Arcana near the cultural and intellectual centre of Imej. As always, she wore her simple, silver student's robe and matching sandals, fastened with strips of silk to her calves. As befitted a would-be grey elven lady of breeding, she was slender, fine-featured, and elegantly petite with delicate, deep blue almond eyes and honey blonde hair which was arrayed both in free falling tresses and deliberately placed, thin braids. She had certainly had an effect at the Academy, where, as was elven custom, she had been courted by male and female aspirants alike. In the end, she had resolved for the beautiful Ennaeli, whose delicacy, gentle wit and fascinating conversation had won Aerylle over.

So, as Aerylle stepped through the threshold of her family's home and workshop, it was a relief to find herself surrounded by the familiar smell of ink, leather and the fresh flowers her mother maintained throughout the house. Since Imej was a mountain city, space was at a premium, so Aerylle's family home was built more in the shape of a tower, with two rooms at most for each floor. Grey elven taste required the best and most elegant furniture and that was to be had in abundance: slender cherry-wood chairs and tables, rose-granite and crystal vases, fine elven tapestries depicting the moments of the world's creation and the great feasts of the goddesses and gods.

In a small, but elegant appointed drawing room with an enchanted, cut-crystal harp as its centrepiece, Aerylle's mother awaited her daughter's return. Impeccably clad in a pure white gossamer robe, her features were more mature than Aerylle's but in no way marked by age, for the elves were a long-lived race who bore the passage of time well, "Aerylle, my daughter, the evening greets you well." Her mother said upon her daughter's arrival, her voice melodious, almost angelic.

"Thank you mother, you are as radiant as always," Aerylle replied, grateful to be once again in the familiar embrace of the home in which she had spent a happy childhood, "it is always a pleasure to return." She embraced her mother, comforted by the familiar warmth and gentle kiss on her hair.

"You are, as always, too kind, my daughter. Your father will return shortly and your sister with him so that we may all dine together. In the meanwhile, I have arranged for you to freshen up after your journey. Come, follow me." Aerylle's mother invited, leading her daughter up the narrow, winding spiral staircase. Aerylle took her time to sink back into her familiar surroundings: she remembered each rosy crystal vase bearing exotic flowers by the sides of the walls, each intricately cast gilt lamp enchanted with a permanent light effect to illuminate their passage up the stairwell.

At the third floor, they reached Aerylle's room, which her mother had always insisted on keeping in exactly the same condition as it had been left. By the greater force of things, Aerylle had eventually convinced her mother to transfer her old - and embarrassingly extensive - collection of porcelain and silk dolls into storage, but the rest of the small, elegantly appointed chamber was exactly as she remembered it. Carefully removing her sandals before entering, Aerylle revelled in the comforting sensation of the thick, soft carpet under her feet, the aroma from a burning perfume lamp, the sight of her old study desk and plush, neatly made bed.

"Mother, you always know how to make me feel welcome." Aerylle beamed. She could not say that her mother spoiled her, but she did know exactly how to make her feel at home.

"It is a pleasure to have you back, now I would bid you take a few moments of rest and make yourself comfortable. Tonight, I have commissioned your favourite dishes and, in addition, just for my diligent daughter, I have a surprise for you."

"Mother, you shouldn't have..."

"Please, my daughter, your comfort is of the highest importance to us...Mjrina, please come out so that you may finally meet Aerylle."

The door to the bathing chamber by the side of Aerylle's room was gently opened and a young wood elf, perhaps a little younger than Aerylle herself, stepped out. Wood elves were the sylvan counterparts of the urban grey elves and spent most of their lives in the forest - when need dictated that they find work in the cities of the grey elves, they inevitably took on menial roles. Mjrina, though, immediately caught Aerylle attention: she was slight in stature, but lithely muscular, her legs slender yet perfectly shaped from years spent running in the forest, with woodland tan skin, long, light brown hair with pronounced naturally green highlights, and deep, leaf-green eyes which illuminated an incredibly pretty, innocent face. She was clad in a simple green and gold shift with a sharp neckline which drew attention to her rounded, graciously proportioned breasts. Unlike the pale, delicate grey elves, wood elves lived lives in communion with primal nature and were thus never strangers to the elements.

"Good evening mistress," Mjrina began softly, her grey elf was tinged by a marked accent so that her words sounded clipped and endearingly musical, "and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Madam." The wood elf's register was formal as she curtsied respectfully, though the words sounded were unfamiliar in her mouth.

"As am I, Mjrina," Aerylle replied, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement, "your work on my room is beyond reproach."

"Yes," Aerylle's mother interjected, happy that her daughter appreciated her present, "Mjrina is very industrious; she was strongly recommended by a friend of mine and since you, my daughter, are virtually a lady in your own right, I thought it only natural that you should have your personal handmaiden."

"Oh, thank you, mother!" Aerylle said - for she could hardly contain her joy. With her mother's vote of confidence, she knew that she had finally been accepted as an adult and a lady of the house.

"Anything and everything for my daughter, now I shall have someone ring the bell when dinner is to be served, but before then, please, take some time to yourself." With that Aerylle's mother left. Mjrina curtsied again as her mistress exited.

"I have taken the liberty of running you a bath, Madam. Would you like to take it now?" Mjrina asked shyly, her eyes planted firmly on the blue carpet.

"That sounds wonderful, I know of nothing else I would rather do in this moment." Aerylle said enthusiastically. The clouds of scented steam which had followed Mjrina out of the bathing chamber were tempting to say the least.

Mjrina nodded and approached Aerylle to undo the blue satin sash of her robe, "If I may say so, Madam, you are little tense. Should you so wish, I would recommend a massage after your bath."

"I agree, your suggestion sounds lovely." Aerylle said, noting with pleasure that her mother certainly knew how to choose her servants. Their family was not exactly wealthy, but they always kept a staff of five or six wood elves to take care of the cooking and cleaning.

Mjrina's movements were dextrous and expert as she helped Aerylle step out of her robe. The wood elf then proceeded to fold the light garment neatly on a stool by the side of Aerylle's overstuffed bed so that she would remember to take it down later to have it washed. Aerylle shivered slightly as the cool breeze from the open window caressed her naked body. It was undeniably good to be home. After attending to Aerylle's undressing, Mjrina pulled off her shift, folded it and placed it on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

"Please, Madam, your bath awaits." Mjrina invited, gracefully swinging the tastefully inlaid door of the bathing chamber open. Aerylle took a moment to admire the wood elf's slim frame, her delicate muscle tone, and the gentle curve of her breasts and hips, slightly more generous than Aerylle's, but undoubtedly magnificent insofar as as even the grey elven aesthetic was concerned.

Aerylle proceeded into the warm steam of the bathing chamber. It smelt of lavender - her favourite. A small porcelain tub of steaming, scented water lay to one side of the circular chamber, while a cleansing pool of cooler water lay at the chamber's very centre.

"Would Madam prefer jasmine, eloi lily, or lavender as a lotion?" Mjrina inquired as Aerylle made herself comfortable in the central pool. Though the water was cool, it was not jarring, but refreshing.

"Perhaps lavender. I should stay in harmony with the bath oil." Aerylle replied. The feeling of the cool water lapping against her skin was truly a relief after a day spent on the move.

"As Madam wishes, though I have been told that there are a number of scents which naturally complement lavender." Mjrina slipped almost soundlessly into the water by Aerylle's side, a soft, pristine white sponge in hand.

"Well," Aerylle began - she was intrigued, Mjrina really sounded like she knew what she was doing despite her youth, " what would you recommend?"

"In my experience, Madam, some Phoenix Berry extract lotion is ideal, especially if you are seeking a restorative bath."

"Then I shall place my trust in you." Aerylle said, smiling.

Pleased that her suggestion had been well received by her new mistress, Mjrina reached into the intricately carved wooden lotion rack and retrieved a vial of deep red liquid. She poured some on the sponge and the room was suddenly filled with a light, fruity scent which nevertheless possessed an airy, floral quality to it. After pouring a few additional drops of a neutral cleansing solution on the sponge, Mjrina began to rub the lotion into Aerylle's pristine, ivory-white skin in long, firm, gentle strokes. The wood elven girl's motions were deft and expert, so that the sponge was made to glide over Aerylle's high, compact breasts, light pink nipples hardening slightly under the tender contact, then further down, at the hairless juncture between her thighs. No part of the grey elf's body was neglected by Mjrina's cleansing and, once she was satisfied with her handiwork on her mistress' body, she began to undo Aerylle's braids.

"The air must be a little dry where you study, Madam." Mjrina ventured, carefully blending a selection of cleansing oils in a small, heated marble bowl.

"Yes...a little, perhaps, how do you know?" Aerylle asked curiously.

"You have magnificent hair, but if restored to its natural glory, it would be even prettier. Dry air often takes away the brilliance of hair." With gentle, massaging strokes, Mjrina began to work her mixture of oils into Aerylle's hair, careful to work with the natural weave of the honey-blonde strands. Aerylle did not so much as feel a single hair pulled or displaced.

"You certainly have a good eye."

"Thank you, Madam, you are most kind." Mjrina said, preoccupied by her task at hand. After thoroughly working the oils into Aerylle's hair and scalp she drew her mistress' head into her lap and began rinsing, taking special care not to splash any water into the grey elf's eyes.

From her position, Aerylle could feel Mjrina's soft breathing - the gentle rising and falling of her flat, firm belly and the equally reassuring support of the wood elf's thighs beneath her shoulders. Though it was clear that Mjrina had never meant for there to be any sensuality in her motions, Aerylle could not help but feel that it was like telling a sun not to shine. Each movement was delicate, never invasive, never superfluous, just exactly what was required to put her at ease.

"If Madam is ready, the warm bath awaits." Mjrina said softly, interrupting the reverie Aerylle had subconsciously worked herself into under the wood elf's expert touch.

"Yes...right." Aerylle rose, water streaming down her flawless skin, and made her way to the porcelain tub. A selection of flower petals floated in the crystal clear water.

"Would you like me to join you, Madam?"

"Of course."

Mjrina obediently climbed into the tub behind Aerylle. Using a textured cloth, the wood elf began to scrub her mistress' shoulders, arms and flanks, in deliberate, wave-like strokes. Aerylle felt the warm, heavy air, the hot water and heartbeat - both hers and Mjrina's - fade into a single sensory whole. Time stopped as a universal force and was only dictated by the careful movements of the wood elf's hands and the soothing rising and falling of her breathing against Aerylle's head.

Although there was a part of Aerylle that was tempted to remain in a half-comatose state in the warm, misty womb of the bath, it would have been highly impolite to be late for dinner. Then, of course, there was the tantalising prospect of Mjrina's promised massage, "Could you be so kind as to dry me off, please?"

"Certainly, Madam."

Mere moments after she stood up, Aerylle felt herself enveloped on a soft, heated cloth. After thorough, but feather-light, drying the cloth was substituted by another to absorb all residual moisture and then by another still, which was left draped on Aerylle's shoulders. Back in the bedchamber, Mjrina quickly closed the window and lit two spiral-shaped silver heating lamps on either side of the bed. Aerylle noted that the wood elf had only dried herself in the most superficial manner, for her tan skin was streaked with tiny rivulets of water. Upon further thought, though, she concluded that it was normal for a wood elf to enjoy the sensation of watery drying off naturally. Something of the elven race's much-vaunted relationship with nature had been lost in the creation of the first cities - with greater comfort and sophistication had come the sacrifice of at least some ancestral connections which, to Aerylle's knowledge, only the wood elves still maintained in their treetop villages deep in the forests.

"Would you like your massage now, Madam?"

"Yes, I must confess that I can hardly wait." Aerylle said with a smile, pleased to see Mjrina nod eagerly with genuine enthusiasm. The wood elf removed the soft white cloth from Aerylle's shoulders and carefully draped it on the bed. Instinctively, Aerylle made herself comfortable on the cloth, leaning her head on a pillow for support and allowing herself to sink into the rich, yielding plushness of the bed. In the meanwhile, Mjrina had selected an aromatic oil and heated a small quantity of it on a dish placed on top of a heating lamp. Its aroma soon filled the air with a warm, flowery headiness.

Mjrina gracefully mounted on the bed and knelt behind Aerylle, her hands warm and soothing as they gently sought out the general outlines of the grey elf's back, bottom and thighs, "If I may suggest, Madam, try to avoid leaning forward too much, it puts you under much strain." Mjrina said, her voice was soft, timid and comforting.

"You are quite right..." Aerylle sighed, the sensation of Mjrina's hands made her want to sink deeper into the soft pillow under her face and never wake up.

"I took the liberty, Madam, of selecting the aromatic oil for you. You immediately struck me as a peach blossom type." The wood elf began to work a cupped handful of the dense, perfumed liquid into the base of Aerylle's neck and her upper back. At first, she sought out potential areas of tension in the neck and upper spine, so that she could methodically weave her way through the little knots of muscle, testing each nook and cranny for tension before moving on.

"You certainly know how to make me feel comfortable, so I am more than happy to give free hand to your judgement." Aerylle felt as though the tension in her back were melting. Mjrina's fingers now ran down her spine, separating and smoothing knotted muscles in firm, relaxing motions. As the wood elf's fingers worked lower, Aerylle drew a little gasp of surprise as she felt the slick fingers run down the tight valley of her bottom and into her inner thighs.

"Madam," Mjrina said with a bemused smile, "please try to relax."

"I do not think I could do otherwise - under hands such as yours." The tension in Aerylle's legs began to dissipate under the determined pressure of Mjrina's artful fingers as they coaxed all traces of stiffness from her calves.

"Madam, you flatter me. I only do my duty."

"You are new here," Aerylle began, interested in knowing more about her skilled handmaid, "how are you finding it?"

"Mistress is very kind and patient with my shortcomings," Mjrina said with sincere gratitude, "and I am fortunate that I am to care for her beautiful daughter."

Aerylle hoped that Mjrina could not see her blush. Such frank, unforced compliments were always extremely flattering, "Do you miss your home? Here trees grow according to our will and not that of the Forest Mother, and we have replaced many of them with buildings of gold and marble. I can imagine that it must be difficult for you at times."

"At times," Mjrina conceded, as she gently began to work Aerylle's delicate foot, "but, I hope to find another home here and I would be honoured to continue to serve you, Madam, if you so desire."

"I could hardly imagine a better attendant. My mother has chosen well." Aerylle said and Mjrina almost felt her heart leap in her chest. It was customary for grey elven women of breeding to have a personal lady-in-waiting who remained in that capacity for the rest of their lives.

"Thank you, Madam, you really are too kind." Mjrina said, trying to contain her happiness at having been received so positively by Aerylle. There would be time for her to celebrate later. In that moment, she decided to remain concentrated on tenderly kneading the pad of Aerylle's foot, before gently running her slick fingers to rub around each pretty little toe. It surprised Aerylle to no end how Mjrina's touch could be so soft, yet never tickle.

"You are lodged downstairs, right?"

"Yes, Madam, in the room between the kitchen and the garden. But if you require anything, I will always be at your service."

"That is good to hear." Aerylle sighed. Mjrina had begun work on her left hand. The wood elf knelt by Aerylle's side, her hair, brown and green like a forest canopy, draped in silky curls around her shoulders while her breasts, capped with light brown nipples, swayed gently with every motion.

"Perhaps, Madam, you would like it if I accompanied you into the city tomorrow when you go shopping for clothing and provisions." Mjrina suggested, hoping that she was not getting ahead of herself.

"What experience do you have?" Aerylle inquired, not at all aggressively.

"I had extensive training as a seamstress, and also as a mage's assistant: I can identify and store spell components and potions." The wood elf replied proudly, a little preoccupied with the tension in Aerylle's shoulders.

"Then you and I will have a long and happy partnership." Aerylle said approvingly. She simply could not have asked for more in a handmaid and so the decision was made to officially accept Mjrina as her lady-in-waiting.

"May I...may I call you 'mistress', then?" Mjrina asked tentatively.

"Naturally."

*********

Dinner turned out to be uneventful. Even though a selection of Aerylle's favourite dishes was paraded in front of her, she ate them with her normal inclination and did not stuff herself as she had previously feared. The conversation around the table was also predictable, even if it was in a pleasant, domestic sort of way. Her father lamented the ineptitude of his new apprentices who kept mishandling page alignments, while her mother, who actually handled all the shop's business transactions, complained about how demand seemed to be shrinking because the citizens of Imej were reading less and less. Later, as Aerylle's father retired to complete a urgent commission, her younger sister - who had become more vacuous than ever - confessed that she was considering giving herself to a particularly charming boy from the Guild of Illusion who had been courting her for some time. Aerylle had immediately snapped that it was 'too soon' to be surrendering her maidenhead and her mother had firmly supported her.

"You must continue to tell him where he must stop, since there is no guarantee that he will be your bonded lover." Aerylle had reprimanded sternly. In reality, of course, it was not that simple. Ennaeli had once passionately suggested that they take each other's maidenheads as a sign of their bond, but Aerylle had been swift to clarify that their intimacy was one of friendship and that she would wait before allowing her flower to be breached. That in itself, however, never prevented them from having an extremely satisfying erotic relationship.

After having been comprehensively filled in on all the local news that had occurred in her absence, Aerylle excused herself to return upstairs. Mjrina was already waiting for her with a mug of sweetened, camomile tea. The bed had been turned out and dusted with a few droplets of lavender oil. Without being bidden, the wood elf helped Aerylle change into her blue silk night-gown, loosened her braids and brushed her honey-blonde hair exactly two hundred and fifty times - just the way she remembered her mother doing when she had been a child.

"It was a pleasure to serve you today, mistress, I bid you good night." Mjrina said as she carefully set the white-bristled brush back into its drawer and rose to leave, "Should you need anything else, I am always at your service."

"Thank you and good night to you." Aerylle replied, smiling softly. She had been pleased to see her family again, but Mjrina had definitely been the highlight of her return. Her camomile tea was certainly the finest she had ever had and, after her evening ablutions, she found that slipping under the sheets was like sliding back into a warm, maternal embrace. Mjrina had taken care of heating the mattress beforehand. So it was that Aerylle believed that she would sink into a uniquely deep and peaceful rest. The night, however, weighed heavily on her. When she had been a child, she clearly remembered having been afraid of the dark. So much so that she always kept a two enchanted lamps lit throughout the night, for fear that the many-tentacled Ithyak-Oreel - or Elf-Eater - or the wicked Night Serpent would come to torment her. That evening, however, it was not so much the dark as her thoughts on Mjrina. Never before had Aerylle been served by someone so genuine and enthusiastic, someone who truly appeared to enjoy her company.

Thus it was that after much thoughtful rolling under the sheets, Aerylle decided to rouse herself and descend the stair. The house slept, though a few lamps had been left alight by the side of the narrow stairway to illuminate the way. Moving quietly down the staircase which led into the servant's quarters, Aerylle passed through the cool, silent kitchen and moved towards the garden which she had tended almost religiously as a child. As expected, Mjrina slept under a simple green blanket on a low bed in a tiny, unfurnished room. Even in her sleep she looked radiant, alive with the spirit of the forest and with a profound, energetic vigour that lit her up with feminine vitality.

Aerylle moved with the utmost caution, always careful not to make a sound, but Mjrina's keen senses, honed by years in the forest, immediately detected her presence as she crossed the threshold to her room, "Is there something I can help you with, mistress?" The wood elf asked, sitting up in bed. Her voice was not so much tired as eager to please.

"I...I would very much like you to keep me company this evening. You make me feel at ease and I am certain that your presence would soothe my rest."

"Certainly, mistress, allow me to fetch some pillows and blankets." Mjrina said, rising to her feet. Aerylle had to make an effort to stop herself from gasping. Mjrina had been naked under the sheets and, even in the darkness lit up only by the dull glow of two moons, the wood elf's skin was radiant. Her figure, silhouetted in the dim moonlight was perfect, something Aerylle only associated with the reclusive, forest-bound beauties which populated the wild, fantastical tales she read for pleasure.

That night, Mjrina slept on the floor by the side of Aerylle's bed. She had improvised her bedding from a few thick quilts and blankets, and seemed all too happy to sleep close to the ground. Aerylle, however, still found that she could not sleep. Mjrina's soft breathing was barely audible and there was no light to disturb her eyes - for the wood elf's presence had banished her fear of the dark once and for all. Nevertheless something burned in Aerylle's breast and it was longing to know, to understand. It had been all to easy for her mother, for her sister to dismiss all that was not of the grey elven culture or from Imej as quaint or inferior. That had been the way at the Academy of the Second Sun as well, but, in the presence of Mjrina, Aerylle felt humbled. Most of all, she felt cared for, protected and perhaps even loved. That sensation, in itself, was enough to make her question they 'why' and 'how' of the society which had given her so much, yet explained so little.

********

The next few days soon became a blur of continuous, but relaxed activity. Mjrina proved to be impeccably efficient and possessed with considerable taste, so much so that Aerylle had begun to entrust herself to the wood elf's judgements when the purchase of clothing and jewellery was concerned. Moreover, and most importantly, Mjrina ensured that her mistress lacked for nothing when at home. Her sleep rhythms adapted immediately to Aerylle's so that she awoke a little earlier, just in time to run her mistress' morning bath and bring up her breakfast, and went to sleep a little later so as to ensure that everything was in perfect order for the following morning. Upon Aerylle's insistence, she continued to sleep in the same room - an arrangement which carried on for a few days and seemed to be perfectly acceptable to all concerned. It allowed both elves to take comfort in each other's presence while never once breaching the unspoken law which separated them with a social gulf so vast it could not even be imagined.

Aerylle, however, remained dissatisfied with those arrangements. The very fact that Mjrina was always so concerned, so diligent, so honestly loving was a scar on the grey elf's conscience which grew more evident each day. Mjrina denied herself everything, yet spoiled Aerylle to no end: baths and cosmetics in the morning, further baths, hair treatment and massages in the evening. In truth, the basic moral principle which Aerylle had begun to identify with: that all beings capable of thinking and feeling had a basic common root in the desire to have equal, loving relationships, was being violated on a day-to-day basis. Or so Aerylle thought.

Thus, one evening, as Aerylle finished reading a chapter assignment for her next semester at the Academy on the subject of magical divination, she finally felt ready to speak frankly to Mjrina.

"Mjrina, would you like to dine with me in my room this evening?" Aerylle invited, grateful to feel the wood elf's hands on her shoulders. When she read for prolonged periods of time, she was almost always assailed by a stiffness in her upper back.

"I would like nothing more to spend some time with my mistress, but maybe your family would expect you."

"No, my mother is out on business. She has is in the process of contracting a new series of books for an Enchantress. Without her, it need hardly be a family dinner." Aerylle leaned back into her chair, eager for Mjrina's soothing touch.

"If you wish, mistress, I could fetch something from the kitchen. I was told that the rosehip flan came out very well." Mjrina suggested, her expert fingers gently settling the knots of tension in Aerylle's neck.

"Mjrina, why are you so devoted? What do I give you that convinces you that I am worthy of your affection?" Aerylle inquired curiously as she closed the great, leather-bound tome on her desk, and turned her head slightly to plant a soft kiss on Mjrina's forearm. That, in itself, was nothing new - for since they had become mistress and handmaid they always greeted each other with a kiss - though the question certainly was.

"Mistress..." Mjrina began, her voice trembling and uncertain, "mistress, you are so kind, so beautiful and...and it does not matter to you that I am an not your kin. I see many other citizens of Imej look at me, speak to me or treat me with scorn because my appearance is different and the words I speak bear the sounds of my ancestors. But you, my mistress, you have always treated me with so much love, that I no longer miss the trees or the song of the forest, because it is sufficient to tend to your needs."

"I am happy that you are happy, Mjrina." Aerylle said softly, clasping the wood elf's right hand into her own.

"With you mistress, I feel that I have left my family and my home with no regrets."

"Do you love me?" Aerylle asked tentatively.

"Mistress...please, I hope you never need to ask that question again," Mjrina answered timidly, "never in my dreams did I imagine a better a mistress."

"Do you also sometimes feel alone in Imej? For I often do and it is a feeling that grows by the day."

"Yes, but mistress, this is your home..."

"A home that I often cannot recognise. Everything that I had been told as a child has been cast into doubt each day I read about how vast and beautiful the Multiverse must be. You know, Mjrina, that beyond this world there are Planes of existence which we could not even imagine. Mighty silver palaces built in the clouds, castles of solid bronze in the middle of lakes of molten fire and cities built like great wheels at the centres of where all creation began." Aerylle's love of reading occasionally caused her to get carried away in the flow of her thoughts and of her towering imagination.

"I am but a simple wood elf serving-girl, mistress, I...am ashamed to admit that I have little I can say in reply." Mjrina said dejectedly. It felt as if she had disappointed Aerylle and that, above all things, was something which hurt her sensibilities.

"No, Mjrina, you are one of the best, most loving people I have met. You have nothing to apologise for. Indeed, if anyone has to apologise, it is I, for I have treated you with less than the dignity you deserve..."

"No!" Mjrina replied indignantly, "No, mistress, you make me feel loved and appreciated. You praise and respect my skills...never say that you have neglected to appreciate me. I dare say mistress, that here I feel loved."

"Mjrina..." Aerylle began, almost breathlessly, her pulse quickened by the warm presence of the wood elf behind her, "this evening, I would give myself to you in love and in friendship - as an equal and not your mistress - so that there will be no more secrets between us. Would you likewise give yourself to me?"

"Mistress..." Mjrina had been quite positively moved by Aerylle's gesture; there had been no condescension or demand in her mistress' voice, just pure, needy emotion, "I am your humble handmaid, I am certain that you have other..."

"None as magnificent and unique a flower from Hanali's garden as you." Aerylle interrupted gently.

"Then, mistress, you have made my waking dreams come to life. I am at your service not only as a handmaid, but as a daughter of the forest." Mjrina said fervently as she knelt by Aerylle side, gently planting a kiss on the grey elf's slender, pale hand.

"May I...may I kiss you?"

"Please, mistress, I would be honoured." Mjrina invited. When their lips met, it was not the chaste kiss of greeting each morning, but something more sensual and needful. Aerylle's lips were soft but insistent, her tongue dancing gracefully with Mjrina's, savouring that trace of wood elven exoticism she had so often desired. As she leaned into the kiss, drawing Mjrina into her arms, Aerylle felt that she could have remained in that embrace forever, feeling the warm, moist life and breath of the wood elf's mouth against her own. She decided, however, that it would only be right to treat Mjrina with all the dignity and respect she deserved as a friend, so Aerylle gently broke the kiss and rose to her feet, Mjrina's hands clutched in her own.

"My caress and my bed are your tonight, would you do me the honour of accepting these humble gifts?" Aerylle asked softly, looking directly into the enchanting depth of the wood elf's leaf-green eyes.

"Mistress..." Mjrina sighed, as if her dreams had all of a sudden come true. Very gently, she leaned in to nuzzle Aerylle's cheek, planting soft kisses on the grey elf's high, beautifully sculpted cheekbones. Subtly, the movements of her head pushed back Aerylle's silky, honey-blonde hair, from around her cheeks. Aerylle waited with baited breath, gently wrapping her arms around Mjrina's waist. The wood elf was in no hurry, she continued placing soft, feather-light kisses on Aerylle's cheeks, her lips trailing methodically upwards.

Aerylle let out a soft, satisfied moan of pleasure as she felt Mjrina's lips begin to trail up her sensitive, pointed ear. The wood elf was tender yet arousing as she ran her tongue, almost innocently, up the length of Aerylle's ear. That was the nuanced sign that Aerylle would accept Mjrina taking the lead in their lovemaking, so the wood elf was quick to settle matters. With practised delicacy, she helped Aerylle to settle in a sitting position on the bed and knelt between her legs. Aerylle took her cue and coyly raised one slender, ivory-white leg to the mattress, forcing her gold-embroidered white robe to ride dramatically up her thighs. Mjrina could now clearly sense her mistress' excitement, for her sharp senses immediately detected warmth and a faint, sweet floral aroma. She could only imagine the warm, moist secrets she would soon discover in her mistress' blooming flower.

Nodding in wordless approval, gently planted a soft, wet kiss on Aerylle's delicate foot, trailing her tongue upwards before stopping just at the hem of Aerylle's robe. She then raised her eyes, almost expectantly to Aerylle. Her mistress responded by cupping her chin and nodding almost imperceptibly. Mjrina rose from her kneeling position and eased Aerylle onto her back before soundlessly taking her place by her mistress' side. Turning to face the wood elf, Aerylle renewed their kiss, eyes fixed on the object of her passion, so that they could hold each other for the first time on the bed Aerylle had so fervently wished to share, lips locked in a vital embrace, the breath of their souls flowing and mixing in the passionate dance of their tongues.

They undressed each other slowly and methodically. Aerylle began the understated ceremony by bringing Mjrina's dextrous hand to the sash at her waist. All the wood elf required was a clean, simple motion, and Aerylle's robe was loosened and gently peeled off, one shoulder at the time, so each small, dove-white conical breast was liberated, causing the garment to finally pool around the grey elf's waist. Mjrina's mouth then quickly set to work on gracing the small, gracious hills of Aerylle's breasts with soft, insistent kisses that trailed upwards until she could surround each tender, light pink nipple - firm and stiff like an exotic berry - first with her breath and then with the gentle, tugging pressure of her lips and tongue. The wood elf was careful to wind her tongue lovingly around each stiff little peak, tugging them ever so slightly to introduce the lightest hint of sensual tension. Pressed against the yielding, inviting warmth of her mistress' breast, Mjrina could smell the light fragrance of the lotion she had applied earlier that day on Aerylle's flawless skin and sense the vital heat which emanated from the grey elf's passion-fuelled heart. Aerylle could only let out short, sharp gasps at each electrifying contact of Mjrina's tongue against her engorged nipples - it was if the wood elf had no gaps whatsoever in her training. That was natural enough - for handmaids were expected to advise their mistresses on the erotic arts, but certainly never make love to them as equals.

That, however, was exactly what Mirina was doing. Aerylle clutched her lover closer, drawing her hands up the slender, taut musculature of Mjrina's delectable thighs and under the wood elven girl's plain green shift. The skin under Aerylle's fingers was smooth, warm and inviting. To cup the maddeningly pert globes of Mjrina's bottom was like paradise. Aerylle had so often admired the wood elf's body - so feminine yet simultaneously gracefully elven - many times when they bathed together, but now she could no longer settle for admiring it. She wanted to touch it, to taste the wood elf's mouth, her sex, her skin; to become one with her so that there passion and moisture would all flow together and the only taste ever to grace Aerylle's lips would be slick gift of Mjrina's sex. So Aerylle gently tugged the hem of Mjrina's shift higher and the wood elf, immediately catching her mistress' drift, helped her pull the offending garment up and off.

Finally, with the object of her desire naked in front of her, Aerylle decided to indulge her passion. Mjrina immediately knew from the look in Aerylle's eyes what her mistress wanted, so she reluctantly detached herself from the grey elf's breasts and lay back on the sheets, opening herself up for exploration. Aerylle's kisses were tender but sensuous. First on Mjrina's lips and their tongues danced with artistic desire as they took turns in leading the rhythm of their kisses, then on Mjrina's throat, where Aerylle left warm, wet trails that led down to the stiff, light brown peaks of her lover's nipples, so hard that the wood elf maiden thought they might burst. Just the prospect of her mistress' lips on the stiffened tips of her rounded breasts was enough to draw a deep, low sigh, like the breath of the forest itself, from Mjrina's lips. Aerylle took that a sign of encouragement as she lovingly suckled on each deliciously taut nipple in turn, elated to hear the desperate beating of her lover's heart deep in her chest.

"My flower." Aerylle whispered as she kissed down the expanse of Mjrina's taut, flat stomach. The wood elf had an athleticism which grey elven women would have looked down upon as a crude. A lady, Aerylle's mother had always said, had to be slender, understated and soft. But Mjrina was, quite literally, a breath of fresh forest air.

"Mistress?" Mjrina inquired dreamily, parting her thighs slightly in invitation.

"You are my rose garden and this," Aerylle said as she stopped just a few fractions of an inch in front of Mjrina's beautifully juicing, perfectly hairless sex, "is the flower I will tend to until it comes into full bloom."

"Oh, Mistress, you speak too highly of me." If Mjrina had been a pessimist, she would have by then been convinced that it was all a dream.

"Hush, for this is a privilege for me; like being allowed to taste honey from the divine Hanali's garden." Aerylle placed a light kiss on the apex of Mjrina's sex and then circled her tongue around the outer lips, using two fingers to gently hold the petals of her lover's flower apart. Mjrina's sex was a rich, deep pink treasure hidden under the light woodland brown tan of her Mount of Hanali .The wood elf's taste was different from what Aerylle had been accustomed to: it was fresh, slightly sweet and had a hint of earthiness, like the fresh sap of a lheiea vine which some elves considered a delicacy. As far as Aerylle was concerned, however, she could have lost herself in those slick, pliant, pink folds, for there seemed to be a vital warmth in her lover's arousal that she had never experienced before, just like lapping at the copious juices was as profoundly refreshing as suckling the nectar from a summer blossom. Mjrina's sighs of pleasure were pure, natural like a running stream, and the silky softness of her aroused sex truly did remind Aerylle of the petals of some sort of divine flower.

As Aerylle's licks drew closer to the tiny, stiff little bud of Mjrina's clit, the wood elf stirred, for her slow-burning desire was finally reaching its peak. To rush proceedings at that point would have been a shame, but Aerylle, too, was well versed in the arts of pleasure. The grey elf maiden became more coy with each approach, gracing Mjrina's inner lips with eager, affectionate licks, but circling around the central bud of her flower, never touching it. It was for Mjrina to give the signal when that would be appropriate. There was more than enough pleasure to be had in the exploration of Mjrina's sex which yielded its secrets slowly, though Aerylle was quick to learn where her lover was most sensitive and where her licks against the moist, velvety flesh would be most rewarded by grateful moans.

Only when Aerylle felt her lover subtly roll her hips forward, did she decide to finally lavish some much needed attention on the wood elf's clit. Aerylle's tongue was expert as much as it was insistent, coaxing the little bud with intense, concentrated licks. Each stroke of Aerylle's tongue brought a soft, melodious moan from Mjrina's sensual, pink lips, her rounded hips thrusting upwards, inviting deeper exploration. Aerylle needed no invitation, for her handmaid's taste was intoxicating, as was the vital warmth which emanated from the flowering, carnal nexus spread open before her, rich with the dew of feminine arousal.

Under Aerylle's sustained attack, Mjrina was powerless, for the hot, tight tensions which had built in her loins was suddenly on the verge of being released, driven forwards into the first, intense contractions of her climax. Mjrina's cries of pleasure were almost musical as she lightly gripped the sheets and revelled in the loving action of Aerylle's tongue.

"Mistress!" Mjrina gasped, her eyes tightly closed so she could focus on the sensation of her sensual peak. Not even in her wildest fantasies did she ever imagine her beautiful mistress making love to her with such intensity and, best of all, attending to her pleasure first.

"My sweet, wonderful Mjrina." Aerylle said effusively, rising from her lover's sex to embrace her.

"Oh...mistress, my passion greets your lips well." Mjrina sighed, an edge of sensuality in her voice as she kissed off some of her copious nectar from Aerylle's lips.

"It is the highest compliment, for it means you think me very beautiful." Aerylle enjoyed the sheer transgression of the act, of presenting herself wantonly to her maid, her cheeks bathed in the residue of the wood elf maiden's passion and expect her to kiss it off the pearly white skin upon which it glistened.

"I do, mistress," Mjrina said fervently, "and to show my gratitude, may I offer my caress in a way I am certain you will enjoy?"

"Mjrina, you have never disappointed, so I am happy to place myself in your hands."

"Very well, just give a moment." Mjrina said enthusiastically. She then proceeded to set up a little pile of cushions and pillows at the centre of the bed, before rummaging through the drawer of the bed-side table to withdraw two frilly, embroidered silk sashes, "Please, mistress, make yourself comfortable on the cushions." Mjrina invited and Aerylle was all too eager to comply. Her arousal was at fever pitch, something that was all too evident to the wood elf when her mistress lay back on the cushions, which kept her hips raised, and spread her thighs, revealing her silky, juicing sex - pink as a pale peach. Mjrina felt a knot form in her throat: she could have had another climax just by pleasuring herself at the sight.

"Trust me, mistress." Mjrina said softly as she took one of Aerylle's feet in her hands and tied it with the silk sash to one of the high bedposts which held up the richly decorated fabric canopy. She then did the same with the other foot, so that Aerylle lay spread open, her legs latched firmly but comfortably to the bedposts - her sex vulnerable and parted.

"Your artfulness never ceases to surprise me." Aerylle said, her throat cloyed with passion. She was certain that a few droplets of passion had flowed down from her sodden sex, down between the firm cheeks of her bottom and onto the sheets.

Teasingly, Mjrina ran her fingers down the soft, desperately slick folds of Aerylle's sex, coating her fingers in the nectar of her mistress' passion. Smiling provocatively, she then spread drew a hot, wet trail with her hand up Aerylle's belly and around the base of her breasts. Mjrina's tongue soon followed where her hand had begun and she eagerly lapped up the residue of Aerylle's arousal in long, sensual licks. Aerylle's toes curled at the sensation and at the sheer eroticism of Mjrina's lovemaking. She was spread open and helpless and it would be up to Mjrina to decide just how and when to pleasure her. Thoughts of a different kind filled Mjrina's head, as the wood elf finally sank between her mistress' thighs, her green-streaked woodland brown hair draped beautifully on Aerylle's pale thighs. She realised that her place was not only as a servant, but as a friend as well. Perhaps, Mjrina reflected in a brief moment of sadness, the hardest part after the bond she had just developed with her mistress would be to see her eventually find a bonded grey elven lover and thus no longer be the exclusive object of her affection. But such was the way of the world.

Aerylle had to bite down on her lower lip to prevent a particularly unladylike, wanton moan from escaping as she felt Mjrina's diligent tongue lap at her sex with such spontaneously passionate abandon that she knew her climax could strike at any minute. The grey elf maiden's passion lay coiled like a butterfly struggling to break free from its chrysalis. Bound and spread as she was, Aerylle felt perfectly at ease surrendering herself to Mjrina's attentions because they were so expert and so reassuringly tender. The wood elf's tongue traced the contours of Aerylle's pearl-hard clit, light pink and gleaming in fragrant moisutre. As she felt her peak approach, the grey elf maiden allowed herself to submit entirely to the deliciously artful work of Mjrina's attentions, her feet tense and arched, toes pointed, in anticipation as her small breasts rose and fell with each laboured breath.

For her part, Mjrina nestled her lips in the slick, subtly sweet paradise between Aerylle's thighs. There was something intoxicating about commanding Aerylle's pleasure: with each lick, each gentle tap of her tongue against the swollen little bud of her mistress' clit, Mjrina liberated a sharp, satisfied sigh. That and her mistress' sex was adorable: so abundant with its richly sweet, flowery juices tinged with only the slightest hint of salinity, and so yielding under her eager lips, like a sensuous, satin embrace. It was only when she felt the bucking of Aerylle's hips quicken and her mistress' breath come in long, relieved gasps that she knew that her mission had been accomplished and so she reluctantly broke the trance which the split peach of the grey elf's sex had drawn her into. The wood elf raised her head to meet Aerylle's satisfied gaze, her cheeks and lips slick with the nectar of her lover's arousal.

"That was sublime...my beautiful Mjrina. Now come, let me embrace you." Aerylle whispered, almost voicelessly.

Mjrina nodded eagerly and quickly moved to unfasten her mistress' ankles from the bedposts.

"No, Mjrina, my love, leave me spread open for you. You have always made me feel safe in your hands and there is nothing more that I would like than be held at your mercy, so that you may drink from my well whenever you wish, or ask that I do the same, and, if my desire stains the cushions, I would have you sleep on them so that you may be close to passion that you have excited in me." Aerylle breathed, blushing slightly at the desire her suggestion betrayed.

Mjrina nodded and carefully settled atop her mistress, drawing her in for a soft, slow burning kiss, "Tonight, I will not have you sleep on the floor," Aerylle began, slender hands cupping Mjrina's heavier, woodland tan breasts, "not tonight or ever again. You will take your place by my side and serve me as both a friend and a handmaiden." Aerylle was initially tempted to suggest that Mjrina call her by her name instead of 'mistress', but quickly dismissed the idea as fanciful: it would have represented a blatant lapse in etiquette.

"Mistress, are you certain? I would not wish for your mother to be angered by my impudence..." Mjrina objected, her protests becoming soft moans, as Aerylle captured a stiff nipple between her lips.

"I need you, Mjrina, whom I choose to lie in love with is not my mother's choice to make."

They did not eat that night, but continued to make love until the second moon was at its zenith and the whole chamber was bathed in a dull, bluish light. When she finally fell asleep, lying on her side face to face with Mjrina, she realised that something would have to change. Her society would certainly not change for her and this was something the grey elf knew all too well. She had always been slightly more easygoing and tolerant than most of her kin and she knew full well even the suggestion that she was engaged in a sensual relationship with a wood elf would raise eyebrows. Aerylle could not, however, deny that what she did was for herself: she simply could not have woken up in the morning and looked at herself in the mirror with the knowledge that she treated her kind, loving Mjrina as a mere servant.

*********

As the carefree days of Aerylle's Renewal Season leave continued, the sight of her with Mjrina in two became common throughout the Street of Arcana. Careful observers noted that instead of walking some paces behind her mistress, Mjrina could often be seen, awkwardly, at Aerylle's side, though most passed it off as mere inexperience. In time, the young girl would learn proper social form and treat her handmaiden as required, but that was the most anyone said of it. In truth, however, what Aerylle was living was the single most passionate relationship of her young - by elven standards anyway - life. They made love on an almost daily basis and the resourceful Mjrina was most thorough in her lessons, since she decided to teach Aerylle the erotic arts of the wood elves as well as helping her mistress perfect what she already knew.

It was Mjrina discretion, and her constant dedication to her duties, which prevented much suspicion from being roused. Aerylle's mother knew that her daughter often shared a bed with her servant, but she imagined it to be something that would be grown out of, like the fear of the dark or the doll collection. It was therefore to her profound shock that, late one evening after dinner, when she had been seized by the maternal need to bid good-night to her daughter over a complicit chat, she finally saw that which she had most feared but long dismissed.

Aerylle's mother was no prude. She had taken many lovers and had been the first to explain to her daughter, on the very day of Aerylle's first cycle - as was grey elven custom - exactly what was expected of a lady, how to initiate and receive courtship and the basics of how to make love to both women and men. What she saw by the dim light of the enchanted lamps in her daughter's room had certainly not been included in that mother-to-daughter talk. Aerylle sat on an elegant satin armchair, her dress pulled down and bunched around her waist, the stiff, light pink nipples riding atop her elegant breasts clearly aroused. Most scandalously, she sat with her thighs wide open, bare feet planted on either arm rest of the chair, her delicate toes gripping tightly against the soft fabric beneath them. Kneeling between her daughter's legs was Mjrina's naked form. The wood elf was clearly busy lapping hungrily at Aerylle's spread sex. Most shameful, Aerylle's mother had silently contemplated, through the small crack in the door that had been left open, was the sight of her beloved daughter squirming in the armchair, soft, rhythmic high-pitched cries escaping her lips.

"Mjrina, my love..." Aerylle cooed as the wood elf began to lick in a long, firm motion between the crevasse of her bottom and her juicing sex.

"Does, this please you mistress?" Mjrina sighed, her voice intoxicated by the lust with which Aerylle's sweet sex had filled her.

"Anything you show me, pleases me." Aerylle replied, running her fingers through the wood elf's hair, drawing her in closer. Eager to grant Mjrina's skilful mouth for access to her most intimate flesh, Aerylle hooked her arms under her knees and lifted her hips higher so as to present herself lustfully, juicing sex and taut bottom spread and aching for more attention from the handmaid's tongue.

"Oh, mistress..." Mjrina sighed as she ran a finger all the way in a long arch from the stiff little clit at the peak of Aerylle's sex to the base of her spine, "you honour me."

Aerylle's mother left the scene in numbed silence. She had no intention of bursting in and causing a scene or humiliating either herself or her daughter. There were, as always, more intelligent and subtle ways of dealing with such problems. Not too subtle, however, because, and this had always been the case with Aerylle, even as far as elves were concerned, a little discipline went a long way.

*******

The following day, Aerylle ventured out alone for her usual morning walk through the streets of central Imej. It had become customary for Mjrina to accompany her to take the fresh mountain air and perhaps a stroll in the gardens to watch the Fire Lilies greet the sun by slowly opening up their blossoms. That day, however, her mother had required the handmaid's services for a social gathering she needed to prepare. Aerylle had left promising a slightly embarrassed Mjrina a gift. So, on her way back, she was sure to visit a famed flower merchant and carefully select some potted forest orchids which, Aerylle hoped, would go some way towards reminding Mjrina of home. They had not been cheap, but as Aerylle returned home, gilded pot proudly in hand, she felt that the effort would have been worth it just to see the expression in her handmaid's eyes.

Upon stepping inside the drawing room of her home, Aerylle immediately knew that something was amiss because Mjrina was not there to greet her with a kiss and a cup of tea as she always did.

"Mjrina..." Aerylle called tentatively, setting down the orchid on an intricately carved and painted cherry-wood table, "Mjrina?" Her voice was louder now. An uncomfortable suspicion began to creep into the back of Aerylle's head. Her mother's sudden appearance at the other end of the room began to confirm it.

"My daughter, perhaps we should talk." Aerylle's mother said, not at all unkindly. Indeed, her eyes seemed burdened with a certain guilty sadness.

"Mother..." Aerylle began, more dangerously than was appropriate, "where is Mjrina?"

"My daughter, you and I both know that she could no longer have remained here."

"You sent her away." Aerylle said, her words blunt, almost emotionless. A profound sinking feeling had begun in the pit of her stomach - there was no hysteria, no madness, no anger, just deep, visceral dread.

"My daughter, you should not be so drastic," the elven matron said, drawing closer to her daughter as if to embrace her, "I paid her a year's wages and sent her to another family in Hylmhame, they are old friends of mine and I am certain that they will treat her well."

"Mother...please, do not even think of embracing me." Aerylle said, not angrily so much as emptily.

"Aerylle, my beloved daughter, what would you have done? Would you have made a sylvan elf, a maid your bonded lover? These things happen only in romances, my daughter, you are a lady now and have to behave accordingly."

"Did...did you even ask Father?"

"A daughter obeys her mother, understood?" Aerylle's mother retorted sharply. The girl's father had always been over-indulgent: he was a charming person in many ways and an excellent bookbinder, but neither a particularly good businessman nor parent.

"Yes." Aerylle answered dejectedly. There was nothing. Only a void inside of her.

"My daughter," her mother's tone was more conciliatory as she lovingly wrapped her arms around Aerylle, "I only want what is good for you. I did not lie to you when I said I was to set up a social gathering. I know we all have emotional and sensual needs, so I invited your old friend Yssinel and her family for a musical evening. She is an apprentice Enchantress now, you know, and very pretty, why if I did not have your father, I think I would court her myself."

"I...want Mjrina." Was all that came from Aerylle's lips. She was not even listening to her mother anymore. All she could see was Mjrina's smiling face in the morning sunlight.

"Whether you choose to believe it or not, my beloved daughter, I know that you do. But we cannot remain children forever. Now come, I will have a seamstress in soon: you should look as beautiful as possible for Yssinel. Imagine that, a Diviner and an Enchantress - what a fine bonded couple you would make, and you would have so much to discuss on magical lore and spellcraft." Aerylle's mother had truly chosen Yssinel with her daughter's best interests in mind. She knew the apprentice enchantress to be strikingly beautiful, even for a grey elf, witty and cultivated. Yssinel and Aerylle had been excellent friends before they had gone off to their respective studies and Yssinel's mother had been most insistent that their daughters meet, since she owned a substantial manuscript copying and illumination enterprise. An alliance sealed by a bonded relationship would thus have brought immense happiness and financial advantages to both families.

"Mother, I would leave." Aerylle said suddenly, gently pushing her mother back to look her in the eyes.

"My daughter...why? I hope this is not one of your little childish fits..."

"No, mother, I would leave. I will complete my course of studies at the Academy and then I will leave Imej - for how long, I simply do not know. Perhaps I will regret my choice and return, perhaps not, but I cannot stay where in a house full of painful memories and sleep under the same roof where my heart was torn out." Aerylle said with quiet determination. She knew what she had to do: in many worlds, her knowledge of books and of magic would be highly marketable. She could survive - no, she had to survive, because there was no life in living paralysed by the deep sadness of never being able to see Mjrina again. The most painful irony of all was that Aerylle was not the starry-eyed idealist her mother made her out to be, for she would never have dared take her handmaid as her bonded lover. Nevertheless, there were many other ways she had grown to love Mjrina, not least as a friend, a confidante and an adopted sister.

"Please, do not tell me it is my fault that you have made this decision." Aerylle's mother said softly. She did truly love her daughter with all her being, which was exactly why she had sent Mjrina away with the utmost gentleness and even promised that she would allow Aerylle to write to her when the dust had settled.

"No, mother, I have always wished to see what lies beyond the peaks of Imej. But your actions have forced my hand...mother, I know you love me, but that fact in itself should have made you understand how important it is to allow others to love freely. Allow me to see at least a tiny fragment of the Multiverse and, if there truly is no place like home, I give you my word I will return...then you can march Ysinnel and me straight to the temple of Hanali and I promise that I will be a daughter you can be proud of. But you must at least let me leave."

"That I will, because you are lady now and it is only right that you choose. But, when it is in my power to prevent you from making a fatal mistake, as a mother, I will do it, whether you like it or not."

"You could have left her alone," Aerylle said dispassionately, her deep blue eyes burning with anguish, "you could have let her stay and I would never have left, for her sake. But now there is nothing to keep me here."

"Aerylle!" Her mother interjected sternly, "You still have much to learn. In the end, you would only have hurt her and yourself far more than you could imagine. There are some forms of love that lead only to unhappiness so we have a duty both to ourselves and to those whom we would love to prevent this suffering."

"But by the end of the next Season of the Mother's Sleep I will leave this world. I promise that I will write, but there is no way you can persuade me not to go." Aerylle said with determination.

"Very well my daughter. You are a strong girl and I hope with all my soul that you finally find peace."

*******

That night Aerylle wept silently until she was certain that weeping, in itself, did not even come close to expressing the massive void she felt within her. So she ate the orchids she had purchased for Mjrina, petal by petal, grimacing but slowly chewing and swallowing the bitter, leafy pieces. She just managed to finish most of the pot before she was violently ill and spent the best part of the night bent over the privy in her bathing-chamber, spitting up the vile, acidic remains of the half-digested orchids. Aerylle briefly entertained the idea of travelling all the way to Hylmhame, finding Mjrina and escaping somewhere deep in the verdant forest where they could be happy together. As her mother had correctly pointed out, however, such things only happened in romances.

All that Aerylle could think of as she slumped forwards on her knees, feeling her stomach heaving and forcing her to weep tears of necessity rather than of anguish, was to escape to somewhere far and distant, where she could at least try to find another true love and be free to love her.

Author's Note: Aerylle's story continues in the Sigil series, also stored on this Archive.

Talilissa's Tale

This is the story of Talilissa - who would only later be known as Lily - and how she came to seek peace and refuge in Sigil.

- The Archivist, your narrator.

Talilissa knew it was going to be a productive day. She felt it in the air, which was dank and moist, as befitted a great fungus farm. Her House, the noble drow family of Kheeleillae, whose full courtesy name was Kheeleillae Oeai Nathonn, had recently purchased an excellent cave which produced some of the largest and most excellent edible fungus of the undercaverns beneath the mighty dark elven metropolis of Ille-Athalath. Outsiders called the drow 'dark elves', though to call a drow that to her face was to invite swift death at the end of a poisoned sacrificial blade. None, drow or otherwise, had ever treated Talilissa with anything but the greatest reverence. She was Sixth Daughter of her House, a very recent graduate of the seminary of the Temple of Lloth - the cruel and powerful Spider Queen who ruled all drow through the absolute power of her priesthood - and had recently been charged with handling a number of new purchases to cut her managerial teeth. From thence, she could expect to advance through the ranks of her family and the society of her city at large - or die trying. For such was the way of the drow: the ascent to the top was fraught with peril, but its rewards were potentially infinite.

For the moment, though, such considerations were far from Talilissa's mind, for she also had to start her younger sister's instruction in the arts of household administration. Vellithea was Thirteenth Daughter and was currently excelling in her studies at the Temple of Lloth where she was a dozen semesters away from achieving the rank of a fully initiated priestess. She had also developed into a magnificent young woman and Talilissa had been fortunate to secure her favours as an ally, and as an extremely exciting lover as well. Despite her relative youth, Vellithea was renowned as an excellent student at the Temple both in the seminary and in the bedchamber.

Talilissa, nevertheless, was certain that she was an example that her sister could only admire in awe and envy. The drow were on the short side, even by elven standards, though females were often taller and larger than the lowly males - as was only proper in a race that held spiders in the highest esteem. Talilissa carried herself with all the lethal, menacing grace of a daughter of a noble drow House: her frame was ennobled by such curves that surface dwellers would not even have imagined on an elf, with bounteous, but firm and elegant breasts, provocatively flared hips complemented by a taut bottom that looked like it had been sculpted out of pure onyx, and rich, silky, silver coloured hair that reached in free falling strands to her waist. As with all of her kind, her skin was an unsettling shade of black which in the light betrayed hints of deep blue while her eyes were so deeply red they almost looked violet. On the rare occasions when Lily allowed herself to smile in public, she knew she excited the lust of noble Daughters and Matron-Mothers alike with the curling of her sensuous violet lips. Vellithea, in many ways, resembled her sister, though she was still a little waifish - for she was but a few Revolutions short of full womanhood - and her features were perhaps more delicate still, so much so that they looked innocent rather than menacingly sensuous.

That, Talilissa reflected, was a mere illusion. Her sister had all the cruelty, cunning and good judgement to become an excellent Daughter of their House and it had been an unforeseen pleasure to guide her on the subject of a productive day's tasks.

"Vellithea, observe carefully," Talilissa explained, running her hand expansively across the tightly packed rows of ghoulish, sickly-white fungus which grew in contorted shapes, somewhat like aborted foetuses, "slaves will often steal cuts from the fungus and subsequently barter them off on the black market or consume them in addition to their daily rations. Do you know why we cannot allow this?"

"Yes, Yilaria, because it would undermine our House's long term profit from this field which was purchased for ten pith of raw mithral and, moreover, it may excite rebellion in the slaves, which is why we ensure that their rations are at subsistence level to discourage superfluous exertion." Vellithea replied. She would never have dared refer to her sister by her personal name - that privilege was reserved for Talilissa's elder sisters, her superiors and her equals. So, as far as Vellithea was concerned, her sister had always been Yilaria - or 'revered sister'.

"Good. Your answer cannot be faulted." Talilissa commented favourably. Even in the dim, white glow of the phosphorescent fungi, her sister was truly magnificent, clad as she was in a shimmering black and silver sleeveless dress which was almost transparent and defined by tiny, carnivrous bio-luminescent plants worked into the fabric. The dress had to be fed a mixture of water and goblin blood at regular intervals, and was subsequently passed in a bath of perfume. Nevertheless, Talilissa was certain that she looked more stunning still, for she had chosen to accentuate her perfectly feminine assets with an exceedingly rare Phase Spider silk dress with a plunging neckline and flimsy, dramatically slit skirt which flared out into strips of silk which resembled thin, knotted spider legs.

"Many thanks, Yilaria, but managing fields of fungus is surely not worth the expenditure of an entire day." Vellithea began cautiously, not wanting to irritate her sister.

"Check your impertinence, girl." Talilissa snapped, menacingly flicking the long, thin striking cane she always brought with her. It had been carved from a spinneret of the massive Abyssal spider known as Bebilith. Vellithea knew that cane to be source of otherworldly pain or pleasure - and sometimes both -, depending on her sister's whim.

"Apologies, Yilaria," Vellithea said, never betraying a hint of nervousness, though, inside, she feared her sister's temper, "I am, after all, here to learn the wisdom you would impart."

"Precisely, this variety of fungus is known as keddai and, in the estimation of our wise Matron-Mother, it will soon become staple for our raiding parties since, unlike most other fungi, it is blessed with a very high nutrient density per unit of weight. Regrettably, its flavour is vile. As a consequence, we are the first House to seriously experiment with this fungus as a standard ration. However, we did recently discover a secret that is to remain only within our House. That is, that the fungus only tastes disgusting because it is fed with conventional fertilisers both vegetable and magical. If, however, fed with diluted svinfnerbli - or deep gnome - blood, the resulting product is highly palatable." Talilissa explained with satisfaction. The discovery had been in part hers, though, as was customary, her elder sister, who had supervised the experiment, was entitled to full credit.

"Our ingenuity never ceases to amaze we. Our bloodline shall soon be the first in Ille-Athalath." Vellithea sighed, a trace of longing in her voice. Their House was exceedingly powerful, but she wanted them to be the most powerful of all, to reduce even the most daunting of her rival Initiates at the Temple of Lloth into chambermaids and playthings.

"All in due time." Talilissa said, a smile creeping across her lips. Her sister excited her when she was so sanguine about domination, "But for now, let us concentrate on the task on hand, for I will tell you that this farm alone can produce five hundred thousand pith of processed fungus per Quarter-Revolution: more than enough to feed a large raiding party for a Half-Revolution when properly dehydrated. It is, of course, imperative that we ensure this patch to be viable in the long term. It will ultimately come down to us to govern our House."

"Yilaria, you know that I will be by your side then as I am now." Vellithea crowed. Talilissa knew that her sister's profession of devotion was a mere formality. She would have stabbed Talilissa in the back had the occasion presented itself. Theirs was a relationship of convenience and Talilissa would have been proud if her sister would have, at some point, found the determination to dispose of her in a moment of weakness. Naturally, Talilissa did not envision herself ever falling into such feebleness. Life had been proceeding very well indeed and, for the foreseeable future, Vellithea's place was at her side or between her thighs.

"Your affection is duly noted," Talilissa said, smiling wryly, "now tell me, why is this form of food production particularly important?"

"Because, Yilaria, it is convenient under conditions of siege. Since it is located in a cavern below our House's stronghold and furthermore well connected by a system of tunnels, it could become an ideal food supply should we ever come under attack." Vellithea replied dutifully. Of course, the chances of their mighty House, with its complements of spies, assassins, mercenaries and summoned demons, ever coming under serious threat were negligible. Second Daughter Uverrille would attend to that, even if Talilissa was sceptical of her abilities. Vellithea, however, put that assessment down to resentment rather than any objective evaluation.

"Yes, very good, but you have stated the obvious. Why is it truly important?" Talilissa teased, sensing her sister's uneasiness. What Vellithea had to learn was that in drow society, there was no one answer: any answer was correct, as long as one had the strength to enforce it.

"Yilaria," Vellithea began, quickly coming to the realisation that her sister was playing games with her, "I am but your junior sister, surely my instruction is not so far progressed as to give me insight as profound as yours."

"Excellent," Talilissa crowed, closing in on her sister from behind and running an inquisitive hand up the younger priestess' silky thigh, "but my question was not mere provocation. What I meant to say was purely botanical in nature: you must know that this fungus' substrate depletion is moderate per unit of nutrition produced. It is not only a revolutionary food source, it is an efficient one as well."

"Yilaria, as always, it is your genius that guides me." Vellithea said, seeking only to flatter.

The crack of Talilissa's cane on her bottom was thus inevitable, for her older sister knew full well when others sought to ply her with beguiling words, "Guard your tongue, girl, for you are fortunate that I am your sister - in future, such craven displays of deference may cost you your head." Talilissa's tone was coldly reprimanding, though, in truth, Vellithea needed to know how to couch her words better; although sisterhood was as much competition as it was alliance for the drow - a noble Daughter's duty was always to cultivate the best possible specimens to ensure the continued glory of her House.

"Forgive me..." Vellithea whimpered, her bottom in hot, throbbing agony - Talilissa always ensured that her cane was enchanted with a Rune of Pain, "you know that I truly have much admiration for you."

"Yes, I do indeed." Talilissa snapped, "Which is why I hold you to the highest standard. Now collect yourself, it is unbecoming of a lady to show distress." Only weak, abject males ever betrayed their emotions in public. The ideal drow female, that which Vellithea would aspire to be, was cold, yet sensual, learned, yet intuitive: the society of the dark elves was one permeated by contradictions which were confirmed time and time again by the profound irrationality of drow society itself, a society whose practices were constantly bursting the boundaries of its own language.

"I understand." Vellithea said, her tone more conciliatory as she nodded in agreement. The stinging on her bottom had drifted down the fine line that separated pain and pleasure. Her heartbeat quickened; Talilissa was, despite her infuriating competence, the only woman Vellithea knew could effortlessly dominate her both in and outside the bedchamber.

"Excellent - but remember that each Revolution that goes by means that you shall have ever less space to make mistakes. Bear that in mind and learn. Your mind is sharp and your are of my blood, so I am certain that you will succeed with the right discipline."

"I am flattered, Yilaria, that such discipline is to be imparted by you." Vellithea said, gesturing subtly, almost imperceptibly with an open palm proffered to Talilissa. In the immensely intricate sign language of the drow, often the only way to publicly communicate sentiments which would otherwise, be interpreted as weakness if too openly displayed, Vellithea sought to communicate the closest thing her society had to affection.

At least, Talilissa concluded, that particular signal had been sincere. Vellithea was a good sister and a promising priestess, she just needed a little more guidance and a few well-placed punishments to make sure she never gave herself too many airs. Arrogance without the power to back it up was the ultimate foolishness and would, no doubt, swiftly result in death, "Remember that only the lesser races make their devices obvious, whether these be war for conquest or flattery for advancement. Subtlety and misdirection always triumph over the brute and the crude. Fight your battles only when you know your opponent better than she knows herself and never fully reveal your capabilities," Talilissa explained, a slight smile spreading across her violet lips as she drew Vellithea close to her, relishing in the sensation of her sister's quickening heartbeat, "not even to me."

"You know you never have to tell me anything twice." Vellithea sighed, Talilissa was already planting malicious, wet kisses down her sensitive throat.

Although Talilissa was tempted to couple with Vellithea in the reassuring embrace of the darkness of the cavern, she decided against it. She knew she needed to master her desire- that and it would set a terrible example if she were to indulge her pleasure in such a vulgar place. The delights of Vellithea's body deserved more comfortable surroundings, "Learn to contain your arousal better. There is no shortage of enemies who would exploit that - now come, I would see what wares are on offer at the Promenade of Merchants." Talilissa's tone was outwardly cold, though her warning had been somewhat tongue in cheek. The really amusing part came in taking pleasure from Vellithea's indecision: would she decide it was a joke and respond accordingly, or would she take it seriously and reply with meek deference? Either way, Talilissa thought, her sister would give her ample pretext for punishment.

*********

Fittingly, Ille-Athalath was shaped like a vast spider and the Promenade of Merchants lay in the main cavern which ran from the head - where the monumental black Great Temple of Lloth loomed over the Priestess' district - and the thorax - where the greatest Houses had their headquarters and business interests. Talilissa knew the place well, for she had recently made an excellent purchase of slaves from an Illithid merchant. Slave attrition rates were high and the establishment of privileged relations with select suppliers was consequently essential. This time, however, Talilissa's main objective was to relieve her curiosity. Underdark life yielded a never-ending parade of oddities and morbidly fascinating subjects. So, under the great spider-silk pavilion which hung over the Promenade like a predatory trap, Talilissa took her time passing through a procession of exotic stalls, Vellithea obediently three steps behind her.

On normal days, Talilissa would have preferred transport on a great, black covered litter held aloft by six muscular ogre slaves. Those leisurely trips gave her the occasion to fully appreciate what the Promenade had to offer through the enchanted curtains of the litter, which permitted its occupants to see as clearly as if through a crystal window, even if from the outside it appeared as a mantle of impenetrable darkness. On that occasion, however, Talilissa wished to immerse herself in the heady chaos of the crowded Promenade. She moved effortlessly through the crowded streets, for most passers-by, drow and non-drow alike quickly scampered out of her path. All in Ille-Ahtalath knew the vindictiveness of House Kheeleillae and Talilissa's potentially short temper. Thus, even hard-nosed duergar - or deep dwarves - with their silvery beards and iron-coloured skin shifted reluctantly to allow them passage, their heavy adamantium armour clicking with each suspicious movement.

Talilissa quickly passed by the slave pens - which held little of interest that day - and ventured into the artisan's row. Her keen aesthetic eye scrutinised row after row of exquisitely carved sacrificial knives, lamps shaped like massive tarantulas with a permanent heat-sensitive illumination enchantment emanating from their bloated abdomens - perfect for identifying invisible would-be assassins -, and a panoply of bizarre, blasphemous jewellery coupled with endless racks of scandalous, nearly obscene dresses which commanded prices more unnerving still. None of this held any particular interest for Talilissa, for she possessed all of the aforementioned articles in great quantity and much more besides. What she was fascinated by was raw life - the scuttling forms of a dozen different races mingling in a great market that combined so much obscenity with so much beauty, all punctuated by the reassuring cruelty which proved that the drow, above all races, had right of ownership over the rest of creation.

Not so for Vellithea, whose exposure to the world beyond the monotony and claustrophobic politics of her training at the Temple of Lloth had been minimal. The Promenade of Merchants drew her in, so that she craned her neck to better observe the creatures that drew back in fear and cowered in their cages. As with Talilissa, chaos and fearful confusion appealed to her. So she paused by the shop of a master jeweller - an odd, mantis-like creature whose numerous arms allowed it to simultaneously cut, shape and polish - to see if there was anything of interest.

Talilissa knew that her sister had stopped, for her ears were attuned to Vellithea's graceful tread, "Has something caught your eye, sister?"

"It is like oblivion." Vellithea said softly - Talilissa's familiar, commanding presence behind her could not shift her gaze. She had been examining a spiral brooch fashioned out of black metal and blacker stone which appeared to contain, in exquisite miniature detail, a vortex of dying light and bottomless darkness. Merely passing it by in the corner of her vision made Vellithea feel drawn to it, almost as if it were speaking to her, hypnotising her.

"Yes, quite an impressive trick." Talilissa replied indifferently, though she too found much cause to commend the exquisite craftsmanship of the jewel.

"I suspect this is what the end of the Multiverse shall be like - when chaos overtakes all and the last lights begin to die. All the beauty of eternity captured in one stone...fascinating indeed, but a trinket nonetheless..." Vellithea said, briefly allowing herself a more philosophical moment.

"Do you want it?" Talilissa inquired, her voice low to ensure no one heard her. It was common courtesy not to draw too much attention to the fact that Vellithea was the subordinate in their relationship.

"Yes." Vellithea replied. She knew well what subtle power she had over her sister.

"Then let it be yours." Talilissa declared, drawing the jeweller's attention with an understated nod of her head. It was not so much the purchase of the item which bore significance, given their House's wealth, but the fact that Talilissa had offered. It was a way of signalling that she was willing to draw Vellithea deeper into her social network.

As Talilissa paid, Vellithea could do little but handle the jewel in her hand. It felt weightless, yet it seemed to draw the light from the red irises of her eyes into a never-ending stream which led downwards into some remote dimension. Only a gentle nudge from Talilissa's hand and the clear, authoritative intonation of her voice drew Vellithea back into reality from her trance, "Put it on."

Vellithea complied and needed no help adjusting the jewel: upon contact with the fabric of her dress, the brooch projected forth a set of eight, silvery metallic legs which latched onto the weave beneath them, fastening themselves firmly without damaging the exquisite fabric.

"Outstanding." Talilissa said quietly. The brooch had been a fine investment, for she had always taken great pride in ensuring that Vellithea was worthy of representing her interests. It was wise to guarantee that a favourite lover - especially if that favourite was a sister - was every bit as elegant, capable and feared as her mistress.

"Does it not entrance you?" Vellithea inquired suddenly, her mind utterly focused on that moment of conspiratorial intimacy with her sister. In that brief frame of time, distorted by the boundless abyss of the brooch, Vellithea felt herself drawn into a trance-like state of contemplation and, all of a sudden, her sister looked more radiant than ever before. Talilissa burned with a dark, menacing sensuality in Vellithea's eyes: her flesh was an ever more magnificent, black like a sunless cavern, her eyes glorious in their imperious, deep redness, and her limbs so languid - in perfect harmony with lush curves which begged for the gentle, subservient caress of a devoted, younger sister's hands.

"Yes, but I see that I have caught your attention still more." Talilissa replied, almost disapprovingly. She was flattered, but it was not wise for her sister to be so abject in admiring another.

"Your gift has brought great pleasure to me. I was asking myself whether there was some pleasure I could offer in return." Vellithea said coyly, a thin smile drawn across her sensuous, violet lips. Her very subtle gesticulation, just a few, dextrous motions of her fingers - imperceptible even to the sharp senses of the insectoid jeweller - left no doubt about what she meant.

"Most considerate." Talilissa said softly, though, in truth, her better judgement had been clouded by superfluous thoughts. Thoughts of the miniature oblivion before her eyes and whether the jewel's value was somehow symbolic: that even in the smallest recesses of the Multiverse, there were a multitude of tiny holes into which life, light and energy would disappear leaving nothing but darkness behind. No doubt, as the High Priestesses and the Handmaidens of Lloth had prophesied in scriptures so ancient that even the all-knowing Deep Dragons could barely recall them from racial memory, when all existence ended in Chaos, all that would be left was tiny points of light adrift in a vast ocean of blackness.

Such thoughts aside, the only ocean Talilissa was truly interested in sinking into was the bittersweet sea of life between Vellithea's thighs, "So we shall make an offering to Lloth." Talilissa finally suggested, forcing herself out of her meditations. Vellithea seemed satisfied at the positive answer and signalled for her sister to lead the way.

The walk back to their House's stronghold brought them through broad avenues where the finer elements of drow society mixed, schemed and plotted - occasionally acting boldly with a well-placed assassination which could leap as easily from an assassin's poisoned blade as it could from a well placed lightning bolt released from a magic-imbued stone. Life, Talilissa reflected, was at least never boring. No drow could afford to sit on her laurels and live off the successes of her mother and sisters, for even a drow sheltered by her family's fortune would find herself victim of that same family if she failed to scheme and plot at least as well as her relatives. Thus, from the lower quarters of the new noble Houses, which had yet to fully affirm themselves and whose strongholds were therefore often little more than a ring of modest towers around a shrine to the Spider Goddess, they walked into the progressively neater and more heavily ornamented upper quarters where the elite of Ille-Athalath spun its power-hungry web.

There, near the very apex of the city, where the slender, ominous spires of the Hall of Spiders reached out, claw-like, towards the natural, rocky dome of the Underdark, the central stronghold of House Kheeleillae came into view. Magnificent were its towers of shimmering, crystal-encrusted onyx, mighty were its ramparts manned by brutish bugbear slaves in their coats of black iron, yet stunning was its beauty, for a filigree of platinum and silver ran through the black stone of the edifice, giving the impression that a colossal spider had woven a dark, wicked web across the building's surface. Talilissa was aroused - wet beyond belief. She needed Vellithea and would take her with all the force her desire merited. Each step was agonising, for with each step she felt the soft, moist skin of her inner thighs rub against the silky fabric of her dress, just as her engorged, violet nipples glided provocatively, almost to the point of outright irritation, against the luxuriant cloth which did little to cover Talilissa's perfect, dark orbs.

She walked with Vellithea as if in a daze and the corridors with their vaulted ceilings and enchanted spiderwebs, though familiar, seemed distant to Talilissa. All she could see was the sheer eroticism of her sister's movements, the swaying of her free-flowing silvery hair, the youthful buoyancy of her breasts and bottom. Despite herself - for she cursed her weakness in taking such an unconditional interest in her sister's beauty - Talilissa knew that the joys she had experienced when coupling with Vellithea would be difficult to equal. If not affection, she felt a deep, burning and needy desire for her younger sibling. By the time they had wound up contorted staircases into the House's shrine of Lloth, Talilissa's throat was parched with desire. It was lust for power as well as flesh, because each day that passed, Vellithea grew ever more accomplished. She would make a fine ally indeed.

Such was Talilissa's impatience that once in the inner sanctum of the shrine, before the great jet-stone statue of Lloth herself - in this case in the shape of a nude, life-sized drow female of sublime, malignant beauty framed by eight chitinous spider legs that sprung from her spine - she seized Vellithea, pressing her lips against her sister's in a searing, wet kiss. Vellithea countered with all the insistence that Talilissa had come to expect from her and their tongues duelled, sensuous violet lips pressed open and hungry, yielding and softly feminine, but alive with hard, savage passion. Vellithea felt herself pushed vigorously against the statue, Talilissa's hands searched her body passionately, outlining each curve, each soft swell with lustful abandon.

"This will be our offering which, after blood, is what our Goddess craves most." Talilissa said crooned, biting down hard on Vellithea's lower lip. Their kiss was renewed with the metallic flavour of flesh blood mixed with the familiar, sweet moisture of their mouths. Talilissa devoured her Vellithea's erotic, submissive lips just as she peeled the younger girl's dress down to her waist and then lower still so that it pooled in a luminous, black and silver pool around her sister's feet.

"What I crave most is your ocean of life," Vellithea sighed - she knew exactly what her sister wanted and needed, so that she did not need to be told when to tilt her head to allow Talilissa better access to suckle at her breasts, pre-empting the desires of one's superiors was an indispensable drow survival tactic -, "you know that I am honoured to drink all that you offer me."

"Yes," Talilissa hissed, tugging almost painfully at a stiff, swollen violet nipple, relishing in the warmth of Vellithea's already full, perfectly firm breasts, "so kneel and drink at my fount."

Obediently, Vellithea fell prostrate before Talilissa, easing her elder sister's ornate boots - specially enchanted to be soundless - off, and eagerly covering the impeccably delicate onyx foot beneath with lavish, adoring kisses. If there was anything that excited Talilissa, as was only proper for a drow female of status, it was subjection and Vellithea knew this. She did not dare attack Talilissa's dripping sex without the appropriate command, even if she could smell its enticing fragrance in the recesses of the spidersilk dress under which it was nestled, even if her heat-sensitive vision could detect the burning centre of her elder sister's desire. For now, she contented herself with the reassuring sensation of the lazy, scraping caresses of Talilissa's vermilion painted toenails against her flawless ebony skin. Talilissa took her time to trace the perfect curve of her sister's breasts with her toe, smiling conspiratorially to herself as Vellithea desperately tried to catch the curious digit in her mouth.

Standing imperiously in front of Vellithea, Talilissa teased a little more, noting with pleasure her sister's abject submission. When she knew that the time for patience was over, the priestess shed her own garment in one effortless gesture, much to Vellithea's welling delight. The younger initiate moved to rise to her knees, only to be rebuked a sharp slap from Talilissa, "I do not recall saying you could rise. On your belly, girl." Vellithea whimpered and obeyed, eyes fixed firmly on the cool, black stone floor of the shrine. Talilissa's coyness was torture: she felt so close yet so far from those soft, velvety violet folds, arranged with all the perfection of a poisonous bloom, so rich and so moist, dripping in sweet juice with which Vellithea could not wait to bathe her tongue and lips. With the typical passionate dedication of the dark elves, she had spent hours and hours on end, her face buried in the sodden furrow of Talilissa's sex or in the musky, fragrant crevasse of her bottom - though she knew it was weakness to admit it, Vellithea knew of no joy greater in the world than bringing her stern, talented sister to a deep, muscle wrenching orgasm.

"When your services are required, I shall let you know." Talilissa snapped haughtily. In truth, she needed Vellithea badly. So she squatted, knees wide apart, in front of her sister's prone form, the gesture deliberately wanton, almost obscene, so that her sex was split open like a plucked flower decaying in its vase, youthful, elastic sex lips so sodden that elegant droplets of bittersweet nectar had accumulated and began running in tiny rivulets down the intricate folds that Vellithea knew so well. Seizing Vellithea roughly by her silky, white mane, Talilissa thrust the prone girl's face against the spread feast of her sex. She need not have used so much force, for her obedient younger sister lunged forward with almost undignified abandon.

"You see, my sister, now Lloth can see the finest of her creations." Talilissa cooed, running a dextrous hand down the smooth, perfectly rounded hillock of her own breasts, searching for her stiff, impudent nipples to caress in rhythm with the expert lapping of her sister's tongue in the fragrant, moist valley between her thighs. Vellithea did not even volunteer a reply, all her universe was focused on the hot, dripping folds of soft, silky flesh in front of her. She did not let a single drop fall to the stony ground, for her tongue lapped with eager, diligent passion. She knew better than to force Talilissa prematurely to her peak, so she bided her time, lavishing long, sultry licks on her elder sister's innermost nether lips, yet never straying too close to stiff little bud of her clitoris which, having long slipped its tiny hood, stood as the only point of hard relief in a sea of soft wetness.

Vellithea's need was agonising too, but it was a younger sister's lot to wait. Thus she contented herself with the pleasing thrill of her stiff nipples running against the textured stone floor with each bobbing motion of her head, choosing to focus all her attention on bringing her sister to fulfilment. Talilissa had no complaints as she sat in that most obscenely erotic position, a nipple pinched firmly between two searching fingers, her eyes slitted in passion, her breath quickened by her wild heartbeat and soft, encouraging moans. Vellithea's expertise against her elder sister's perfectly hairless, exotically fragrant sex was, after all, faultless and even more so as the initiate finally decided to move in for the kill. Daring to raise a hand to hold Talilissa's nether lips even further apart, Vellithea began planting quick, stiff licks against her sister's clitoris, taking secret pleasure in the vulnerable gasps this elicited.

Ever so gently, Vellithea finally plucked up the courage to slide a single, agile finger into the sodden, bitter-sweet cove of her sister's sex. Her familiarity with the sensual map of Talilissa's body was such that it took her a few moments to plant the pad of her finger against her elder sister's most sensitive spot deep in the roiling nexus of her sex. Talilissa bit her lip - her arousal had been great even before entering the shrine of Lloth, but the prolonged, spasmodic climax that struck her was nothing she could have expected. Sensing her sister's orgasm, Vellithea teasingly scraped Talilissa's clitoris with the very tips of her teeth and readied herself for the savage, bucking motions of perfectly curved ebony hips.

Vellithea made a point of keeping her finger deep inside her sister's sex throughout the extended spasms of her climax, just to feel her arrogant, powerful mentor's body surrender to such a basic, primal need. It was a twofold reassurance to Vellithea: it proved both her sister's devotion and the fact that she was a flesh-and-blood drow, like any other. Talilissa's climax was so sharp it was almost painful, even as her sister dutifully lapped up the copious juice that still betrayed her arousal. In the priestess' mind, however, it was high time that Vellithea learned a little restraint, "Insolent girl!" She snarled, roughly tugging Vellithea up by her hair and planting a searing kiss on those beautifully full, nectar moist lips, "How dare you enter me without my assent? Embrace our Goddess and present." Talilissa ordered. Lovemaking amongst the dark elves was always half game and half danger.

Vellithea nodded submissively and complied. She wrapped her arms around the statue of Lloth, clasping the firm, unyieldingly cold stone and raising the perfectly taut, feminine globes of her bottom enticingly to her sister. Few dwellers of the surface, whose experience in the pleasures of the flesh had never extended to the drow, could ever imagine such harmonious curves on an elf; a femininity that was never overly soft and certainly not vulgar in its abundance, but sculptural, elegant, like the abdomen of a Darkweaver hunting spider. Vellithea, Talilissa was forced to admit, was a particularly excellent drow specimen. She was also sodden, her onyx-black, firm inner thighs streaked with the translucent bittersweet trails of the nectar of her arousal. In spite of her better judgement, Talilissa fell to her knees behind her sister. They would worship the Goddess together.

"You wanton girl, learn to control your excitement." Talilissa snapped, secretly pleased to see her sister dripping in the most unceremonious fashion, "Spread!"

Mewling lasciviously in exactly the tone she knew would get Talilissa's sex flowing in no time, Vellithea leaned forwards against the statue and spread her thighs as far as they would go. Her violet nether lips hung open and spread, their nectar glimmering in the muted faerie fire light of the shrine. The tight, budding violet of her anus seemed to beg for attention, nestled as it was in the perfectly smooth crease of perfect, onyx globes. Talilissa knew her sister to be a shameless little harlot for power, there was scarcely a priestess in the Great Temple which had not had the opportunity to sample the delights of her tongue - or, as the less refined initiates in Talilissa's seminary classes would have put it, Vellithea was the type that "would lick a surface elf's pussy if it got her a promotion" - drow jokes did not get much cruder than that.

Nevertheless, there was no arguing over the fact that Vellithea was enticing. That was reason enough to punish her. So Talilissa let loose two swift, sharp flicks of her cane on the deliciously firm upturned bottom before her. Vellithea's whimpering moan of pain and pleasure increased the pounding in Talilissa's chest threefold. It was only natural that she would strike out more, for the sound was absorbing, the motions of her younger sister's hips, breasts and bottom under the repeated assault of the cruel cane hypnotic. Not to be outdone by her elder sister's show of strength, Vellithea decided to draw Talilissa further down the spiral of desire. The younger hugged the statue of Lloth closer, running her tongue over the full globes of the idol's breasts up to the hollow of its vividly sculpted neck.

"Watch me worship our Goddess, Yilaria," Vellithea sighed as she settled to suckle upon a perfectly carved stone nipple, the sublime fusion of pain and pleasure from her sister's cane spurred her depravity onwards as flecks of thick, fertile nectar spattered in tiny droplets on the stone floor of the shrine, propelled by the savage impacts of the cane, "perhaps one day She will send me a Handmaiden, a yochol, so that I may show her my devotion." Slender welts, bruising a deep indigo on the submissive drow's flawless obsidian skin began to form with each unrelenting impact of Talilissa's cane: discipline no longer had anything to do with it; this was desire.

"Harlot!" Talilissa spat, casting aside her cane and falling to her knees behind her sister, "There is no priestess of the Great Temple nor Daughter of this House who has not had you. Even Odeylle, our youngest sister, confesses to having granted you her favours."

"It was her first cycle, it was time." Vellithea protested - in vain, because Talilissa's merciless tongue was already lavishing all its lustful curiosity on her eagerly spread, thickly juicing nether lips. With such bounteous, fragrant beauty nestled between perfectly formed violet petals, it was only natural for Vellithea to use her appeal to secure advancement. Deep in recesses she herself refused to contemplate, the thought of losing Vellithea's favours pained Talilissa. If her seminary studies at the Great Temple had taught her anything, however, it was that Ille-Athalath was no place for sentimentality.

Thus, Talilissa would dedicate herself to the carnal worship of her sister's magnificent form under the watchful eyes of the Spider Queen. Her tongue worked incessantly on the folds of Vellithea's sodden sex, before trailing upwards to caress the puckered violet bud of the younger initiate's bottom. Vellithea clasped the statue tighter and moaned, a dull, tingling sensation of satisfaction flowing from her tightly clasped nether portal deep into her sex. Talilissa's mouth worked tirelessly, her lips planting hungry, biting kisses on the soft, firm flesh of the onyx globes of her sister's bottom, before periodically turning its attention towards coaxing the little, puckered violet bud into full bloom. Vellithea did her best to relax, even as her lambent desire mounted deep inside her impatient loins. The itching pulsation spread further, filling her sex and bottom with almost indescribable anticipation.

Talilissa's loving, insistent licks were finally rewarded by a progressive loosening of Vellithea's nether portal, so that when the priestess tasted the familiar, almond muskiness as her tongue finally entered the tightly clasped flower, she knew it was time, "Turn around, knees against your breasts." Talilissa ordered coldly as Vellithea scrambled to comply. She lay down on the cool stone floor, her hair spread like a white, silky mantle against the feet of the statue of Lloth. The younger initiate raised her flawless legs, so statuesque they could have been carved out of living onyx, and rocked backwards, so that her knees were planted with almost agonising pressure against her stiff nipples.

"Hands around your ankles, if I see them move from there, I swear on the Goddess's Demonweb that you will not be able to sit for a dozen days." Talilissa said, a cruel smile spreading across her lips. Muttering a brief incantation, the drow priestess leaned forward and pressed her hand against the intricately carved, open sex of the statue of Lloth. Her invocation caused the sculpted nether lips to secrete a rich, dense, translucent substance, like a spicy, fragrant oil, "This," Talilissa said reverently, "is the favour our Goddess shows to our coupling. We shall honour it."

Vellithea nodded, almost delirious with desire. She held herself open and vulnerable in a most humiliating position, her hands locked around her ankles, her sex and bottom high in the air and open for Talilissa's pleasure. Just the sensation of the living warmth of her love nectar trickling forth in tiny droplets against the sensitive, loosened bud of her anus was enough to elicit a low moan. Still, Vellithea held herself open in hungry anticipation, licking her lips as she utterly surrendered herself to her sister's expert hand.

Talilissa settled between Vellithea's spread thighs. Leaning forward, she began to run her left hand gently against the gaping, wantonly presented violet sex before her, while her lubricated hand, fragrant with the blessings of the Goddess, began to tease the tiny pucker of Vellithea's bottom. Talilissa's rhythmic stroking of her younger sister's sex became almost hypnotic, a massage more than an overt stimulation - relaxing to the extent that Vellithea did not even notice the older priestess' index finger sink to the last knuckle into the moist, yielding recesses of her bottom.

"Goddess, you are hungry for it." Talilissa cooed, the tight, moist sucking sensation of her sister's budding violet was deliriously exciting. So she added two more fingers, each carefully spearing through the faint resistance of Vellithea's anal ring, before gently opening up the highly sensitive soft inner flesh therein. The younger initiate moaned, bucking her hips forward, as if begging for more. Vellithea's throat was dry with desire, her eyes cast upwards to contemplate the intricately inlaid domed ceiling of the shrine, her entire being focused on the increasingly arousing massage of Talilissa's fingers on her sopping sex and on the fourth finger that just breached the feeble defences of her obscenely spread bottom. A dull pain had begun to set in, but it was offset by a pleasure of such intensity that Vellithea was willing to set all discomfort aside.

Or so she thought, because Talilissa's sensual cruelty could surprise even the drow. Vellithea gasped in agonised surprised as she felt her sister suddenly flare the fingers now nestled deep in her bottom, stretching her horrendously. The fluid Talilissa had summoned forth had the effect of greatly magnifying all sensations, including pain and, much to her shame, Vellithea could not prevent a couple of stray tears from falling down her elegantly sculpted cheeks.

"Look at you," Talilissa taunted, twisting her fingers savagely inside the moist, sucking flesh of her sister's bottom, "you are but a child. The women of this House certainly do not weep." Vellithea could only whimper in reply. Her blood had become like slow moving lava, burdened with the unfulfilled heat of frustrated desire.

"Allow me to teach you discipline." Talilissa said, her cruel smile now spread fully across her lush, violet lips. The drow priestess finally began working her thumb into her sister's stretched, overstuffed bottom. Her movements were slow, methodical, careful not to damage so much as extract every single second of pain and pleasure from the experience. They were certainly in no hurry. But when the final knuckle popped in the faltering barrier of Vellithea's now fully flowering, and deflowered, violet bud, all the junior priestess could do was draw a ragged moan of resignation as the rest of her sister's hand thrust in – one agonising inch at the time - only to be stopped at the wrist by a vigorous, desperate clamping of her anus.

Vellithea knew that her climax was but moments away, she could feel it in the sublime sensation of Talilissa's fingers pressing against that vulnerable flesh deep within her sex through the flimsy membrane that separated it from her abundantly filled bottom. For her part, Talilissa revelled in the soft, welcoming moisture and heat of her sister's bowels and took more pleasure still from the anguished look of sheer ecstatic agony that had spread across Vellithea's face.

"Good, my sister, you have earned your reward, you may be at ease now." Talilissa invited with uncharacteristic generosity and Vellithea was all too happy to release her ankles and wrap her legs around her sister's back. A few final harsh thrusts from both of Talilissa's hands sent Vellithea spiralling into an agonising climax - both her sex and bottom clamped down savagely, but to no avail, for the older priestess would not allow her intruding hand to be ejected. Even in the throes of toe-curling, gut wrenching pleasure which echoed in high, barking gasps throughout the shrine, Vellithea felt the agony of her defeated, contracting bottom around Talilissa's wrist and the continued teasing of her sister's skilful fingers deep inside the tight, slick, overstuffed passage.

"A final lesson, sister," Talilissa said wickedly, "never leap to conclusions about the good will of others." Too late did Vellithea realised that her older sister had released a tiny, magical dart of force deep into her spasming sex. The tiny, shimmering projectile forced its way through the saturated inner folds before crashing savagely against the inner walls of the younger drow's contracting canal. Much to Talilissa's amusement, Vellithea let out a low, keening wail of release at a second, less vital climax, before realising - mortified beyond belief - that the series of muscular contractions generated by her sister's sorcery had caused her to empty her bladder in long, clear squirts. Vellithea could only bite her lower lip in shame as the fluid squirted copiously over Talilissa's breasts, belly and sex, whilst the last few spurts flowed down her own nether lips and inner thighs. It took a few moments for the salty trickle, which carried the faint scent of herbs, to subside.

Talilissa's torso, sex and thighs were soaked, "How remiss of you sister, but I am afraid that this is not going to clean itself up. I suggest that you personally take charge of this task..." She jerked her hand hard and fast out of her Vellithea's bottom, causing her sister gasp in mixed pain and relief.

Vellithea did not need further encouragement – it was all part of her sister's artistry to be able to humiliate her to such an arousing effect. Talilissa simply lay back against the familiar, stone floor and allowed her sister to quickly and thoroughly lick up the residue of their lovemaking combined with the oddly fragrant issue of Vellithea's bladder, "And when you finish," Talilissa continued, sighing softly as Vellithea obediently gathered up every savoury drop of her copious spill from her older sister's flat, taut belly before moving down to passionately service spread nether lips, now wetter than ever before, "perhaps I shall give you the honour of sampling the delights of my arachnid statuette."

Lloth, Talilissa reflected, must be having an excellent view: the beautiful Vellithea - who would be more beautiful still in a few Revolution's time - her perfect obsidian skin slick with sweat, her taut bottom spread to reveal her gaping, well-used violet bud still slick and dripping with divine lubricant, her sex lusciously moist and swollen, sodden with fragrant love nectar and something more shamefully exciting still...

"Mistresses!" The snivelling male voice broke Talilissa's reverie. Her fury was immediate.

"Worm of a male! If this intrusion is not justified, your heart will beat on the cold stone palm of our Goddess before your next breath." She snapped venomously.

"I beg your indulgence, Mistresses, but our enemies assail our House." The male blubbered. He was the effete, but relatively effective Keeper of the Chambers.

"What? Why did Uverrille not warn the Matron-Mother?" Talilissa's red eyes burned with indignant rage.

"She, our esteemed Second Daughter, was deceived, oh Mistresses." The Keeper of the Chambers wailed.

"Imbecile!" Talilissa snarled, her heartbeat rising. If the attack had already commenced and the priestesses of the House were not in position to command, deliberate and summon demonic allies, even a powerful House like Kheeleillae was in danger of falling, "Sister, clothe yourself, we go to the Observation Tower."

*************

The situation was as desperate as Talilissa feared. Though her Matron-Mother and her sisters had sought to placate Lloth's disfavour with the sacrifice of Uverille, the remiss daughter, and her equally inept lover, the Spider Queen had given no signal in the condition of the sacrificed drow's liver, nor any divinatory clue in the thickness of her arterial blood or the consistency of her spleen. As was customary, the sacrifice was performed while the victims were still alive, bound in agony as their hearts were torn out of their breasts and their wombs sliced open in the hope that its inner walls would yield some clue. The sacrifice of two noble females was a ritual act of the foremost importance, but Lloth remained silent, seemingly satisfied with the imminent fate of House Kheeleillae. In desperation, the noble females of the House had returned to their posts, even as the outer ramparts were breached.

Talilissa had the luxury of observing all this from the Sanctum of Arcana with Vellithea, as ever, by her side. Talilissa's hands were still stained with the live blood of her sister, though the woman's sacrifice had brought no regret. The weak and the foolish paid with their lives. That had been the way of the glorious drow race for millennia. That, by extension, would be the fate of a House that had placed its trust in a weak head of intelligence and espionage. Talilissa had always suspected that the rather inane Uverille had owed her high rank to the accident of her birth and to her ability to pre-empt the Matron-Mother desires both in the throne chamber and the bed chamber.

Now, from the mighty Surveillance Sphere in the Sanctum, where the finest magical items in the possession of her House were stored, Talilissa was charged with issuing any last ditch summoning of demonic allies to ensure that the invaders paid for every inch of ground they seized in blood. In that moment, however, the priestess was more preoccupied with the vision of the ongoing battle the Surveillance Sphere provided. The House stronghold had been attacked simultaneously by three separate, allied forces of jealous Houses whose coalition Uverille had failed to detect before it was too late. Before Talilissa's appalled eyes, the elite halberd-wieldiing hyena-headed gnoll infantry of House Gussenein-Olleth hewed a bloody path through what remained of Kheeleillae's first-line drow household retainers. That force, consisting of specially-trained males had fought commendably, but their superior finesse with the blade was given no space for manoeuvre against the barbaric slave troops deployed against them. They fell by the moment; limbs hacked off, torsos split open like rotting vegetables, heads crushed to one side under a spray of brain and bone.

Vellithea was pacing nervously up and down the Sanctum. Those very motions had begun to irritate Talilissa. All was clearly lost. Grandeur, however, was never ever-lasting. Lloth's banishment from the bright and good lands of the goddesses and gods of the surface elves was ample proof of this. Now, the second, inner rampart fell and a detachment of grey-skinned kua-toa - whose likeness is that of a bipedal, predatory fish - mercenaries began to pound on the ornate main gate with mighty spiked war-hammers and adzes carved from steel-hard coral.

"How does your intuition counsel you, Yilaria?" Vellithea inquired tensely. She had been absentmindedly stroking a large, meticulously organised pile of magical scrolls and parchments.

"It counsels me better when you are not distracting me." Talilissa snapped. Vellithea tilted her head dejectedly to one side - her sister's reprimands had always hurt her more than those of her senior priestesses.

Talilissa's mind worked furiously - the six-armed serpent demons her Matron-Mother had summoned had managed to stave off a full frontal assault on the main stronghold complex for a while. They would not last long. Talilissa's carefully-attuned magical sense told her that the Third Daughter of her House - by far its most accomplished field commander - had already perished in the thick of the fighting and that her corpse had been despoiled by triumphant enemy forces and was being hoisted up, half charred and half flayed, on a blackened metal spike. Then it struck her - if all was lost, she would gate out to another dimension. What she would do from thence was undecided. In that precise instant - just as a wave of crossbow bolts mowed down what remained of Kheeleillae's bugbear slave regiment right in the central courtyard by the great fountain of the House's Founding Mother - all that mattered was survival.

"Vellithea, find the gate scroll. The one that has been scribed so as to be impervious to portal-sealing magic." Talilissa ordered, stripping her Phase Spider silk dress off and hastily donning a more functional piwafi protective cloak and tunic outfit.

"Certainly, Yilaria." Vellithea said, almost enthusiastically as she began leafing quickly and efficiently through the magical tomes stacked high by a rack of enchanted crossbows. Her sister's foresight knew no end. Whatever Talilissa had in mind, it was certainly better than ending her days on the front lines of combat. Wars between drow Houses ended only when one was utterly obliterated, when all its progeny was extirpated from existence and its stronghold consigned to a bottomless chasm of a sunless sea.

"Faster!" Talilissa ordered, her voice almost breaking under the tension. Time was undoubtedly of the essence.

"Here it is," Vellithea interjected excitedly as she tore out the requisite page from an otherwise unassuming tome - she imagined that the enchanted parchment had been stored in a low-profile volume to prepare for exactly a contingency such as the one she and her sister currently faced, "should I change too, Yilaria?"

"Idiot girl," Talilissa snarled, "the incantation will in all probability fail if it is made to carry two across the Weave."

"But..."

"Take your chances, surrender. You are pleasing and relatively inoffensive, surrender to the first priestess you see and throw yourself at her mercy." Talilissa said coldly. She seized the parchment from Vellithea's trembling hands. Its wording was arcane, but thankfully, there were no symbols which appeared too unfamiliar. Even if her pronunciation was to be approximative, she would be out of the jaws of certain death in the blink of an eye.

"Yilaria, have you ever heard of a priestess accepting the surrender of a fellow priestess of a defeated House?" Vellithea countered desperately. There was no point trying to wrest the parchment from Talilissa - her sister was stronger, more experienced and - most importantly - she actually knew how to activate the gate enchantment.

"What do you expect me to do? Either one lives or we both die." Talilissa replied matter-of-factly. The Surveillance Sphere brought more grim news, the kua-toa vanguard had powered its way into the main hall in front of the throne chamber. Talilissa estimated that there were perhaps two hundred ranged against fifty household guards. Had House Kheeleillae been given more time, they would have riddled the stronghold with traps and the first assault of enemy slaves and mercenaries would have been blunted. Now, however, the renowned marksmanship skills of Kheeleillae's males proved worthless in the cramped, indoor quarters as they were torn, literally limb from limb, by the blood-crazed fish-men.

"Would you leave me?" Vellithea finally breathed desperately, "Would you abandon your favourite, who has always been by your side - even when it would have been more advantageous for me to seek greater or more influential allies?"

"Between my favourite and my life, I choose my life." Talilissa retorted. She felt a sudden emotional jerk somewhere in the back of her mind, but decided to sideline it. Such raw emotion had no place in a crisis situation.

"Yil...Talilissa, sister..." Vellithea said softly, almost inaudibly and - for a moment - the din of battle from the Surveillance Sphere subsided. All Talilissa could feel was Vellithea's hand desperately clutching her own - that grip, that warmth was more than need, more than desperation...there was something else entirely there and Talilissa could not quite place.

So, like the good drow she had been brought up to be, Talilissa clutched the enchanted parchment tightly in both hands and read the words of power so that each individual symbol began to glow in a lambent, blue flame as it was pronounced. By the time the final symbol was pronounced a ring of shimmering blue energy had formed a tear in space and bridged the gap between dimensions. A magical gate yawned open; to look into it was to look into maddening infinity.

"If the Goddess smiles upon you, you shall live. You were never short of talent." Talilissa said, approaching the gate. The sounds of a desperate battle, filled with the dying gasps and wounded howls of the brutalised and dying filled the air, only to be distorted by the Weave-warping magic around the gate to sound more like moans from beyond the grave. Vellithea stood to one side, stunned into speechlessness. Fortunes were indeed made and lost in a day.

"I..." Vellithea began, rage, desire and regret mingling into a distinctly unstable emotional compound. Then she realised that there was nothing more to lose in an open declaration of devotion, "I shall die with the brooch you gave in my hand and your name on my lips. Any drow would be proud to have a sister such as you." With that Vellithea seized a wickedly curved silver shortsword from the weapons rack and resolved to fall fighting.

Talilissa could only nod in assent and step through the gate. It was her first great leap into the unknown, but the drow were natural gamblers: with every closed door came an open window. In that moment, she also realised that Vellithea had resolved to live and die as befitted a drow noblewoman of the finest birth. That was to be her sister's last, belated gesture of obedience - the final illustration that all of Talilissa's lessons about life and fate and Underdark had gone heeded.

What Talilissa could never forgive her sister for was the fact that Vellithea, in a moment of weakness, had made a request which had laid bare yet another deep and meticulously concealed weakness. This weakness was the unstable shape of need and desire in Talilissa's mind as well as her heart and soul - the truly, maddeningly unforgivable thing was that Vellithea's pleading had actually generated something utterly new, dangerous and unexpected in her sister's mind. For a brief instant, perhaps the briefest of measurable moments or perhaps an interval of time briefer still, Talilissa had wanted to take Vellithea into her arms and dive through the gate together.

Author's Note: Talilissa's story continues in the Sigil series (that commences with the Preludes) by the same author and also stored in this Archive.

Tales from the Radiant Path

This is a day in the life of a group of last year novices of the Order of the Radiant Path. On many Prime Material worlds, since time immemorial, the Vigilant Maiden and her chivalrous order, the Maidens who follow the Huntress and Path, have given their bodies and souls to the defence of the innocent, the vulnerable and the punishment of the violent and the wicked. At least in theory; as a mere novice, dreams of shimmering plate mail and divine swords are as distant as book-bound epic – what counts is passing doctrinal exams, surviving training and finding one's way through an ever more complex tangle of relationships. So here we have it, a cross-section of the lives of four eager novices bound for knightly service to the greater glory of the Vigilant Maiden in the wheel-shaped cosmopolitan city of Sigil.

- The Archivist, your narrator

...of the self-professed Maidens who follow the Path of the Vigilant Maiden - otherwise known as Artemis or Diana or, as m