Lahel had fallen asleep in her whimpering. It was a short nap, for in her sleep she muttered, “Faerva’skol”, and a marvelous sensation filled her heart, waking her. Warmth poured into her soul, and it felt like her medallion was vibrating on her chest. She took it from her blouse to see that it radiated a faint rainbow halo with the same incorporeal haziness that actual rainbows shew. With a grin, she gripped it tightly to her chest before lifting it to her lips, holding it there for a moment, then tucking it back into her blouse.
She drew strength to return home and face her father who was doubtlessly drunk already. She wanted so badly to love him, and for him to love her, but he was always distant these days, ever since mother left the fort. The fun they used to have together. At one time she would have never needed another father like Johan served as, their bond was so strong, but this was not that time. He was fat and drunk and very sad now.
When Lahel opened the door to their quarters, she heard her father strain against his lungs to call her name. This was shortly followed by a thud, and Lahel rushed around the corner to see him lying face down in the floorboards. She screamed, "Daddy!", and ran to his body, dropping to her knees by it in panic.
And she remembered a name.
“Faerva’skol...” she said, interrupted by a few sobs and sniffles. The mere utterance of the name wasn’t sufficient now. “Shaa! Shaa, Faerva’skol! I know not what to do!”
Lahel bowed her head over her still father’s body and wept, croaking “Shaa.” occasionally, remembering to address it to Faerva’skol. “Shaa…”
And then the room burst into a blaze of vibrant color. Lahel looked over her shoulder before standing in awe of the glory of what could only be Faerva’skol, her whimpers utterly stifled.
It was like a great, fat bird, standing upright like a man, covered head to toe with billions of brightly colored feathers. It had two gleaming white pearls for eyes, and a beak of gold that grinned calmly. It did not speak but Lahel heard. Deep in her bones she heard, “Shaa, child.” It was empathy so powerfully articulated and eloquent that Lahel heard actual, spoken words though non were actually spoken.
“Shaa deeply, and pass my medal, as did Johan, unto a needing heart when the day is right.” She heard.
A blue mist formed the shape of Lahel’s father next to Faerva’skol. He opened his hand and presented It with a radiant, blue feather which floated into the air and disappeared into the coat of It That Loves. The mist dissolved, then so did Faerva’skol, and a woman stood where Lahel the Child used to stand, still young of body, but immeasurably the wiser, for she had been indentured eternally to love; These were the rites.
The medallion appeared tarnished and bronze, now, and could be shewn outside her blouse without fear. She shared her love with those of the fort, and, slowly, things got better. Just a little nicer. People smiled, children laughed, even the birds sung and the sky brightened.
Shaa had blessed this place and Lahel, yes, but she was still a child, now without a father. Her mother could not be found, but her father had a sister who was on her way to bring Lahel back to the capitol city of the north, Irthad. It would be in the slums of that city, in Lahels final days, that another needing child would see and be forever changed by the glory of Faerva'skol, It That Loves.
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