FALORA

There's got to be something on the truth — I have followed Ase'Lesinia's teachings and tenets since I was a young girl. 'Never take the word at face value. Only the bare truth.' Falora poured through some of the books Alexavier had in the airship hold, her knees tucked in the small map room where the glass let the sunlight in. Or, had there been any to have. Clouds billowed from the island, a creator to the world's natural processes on ancient mechanisms. 'Seek naught but knowing sincerity.' Sketchbook in her lap, she drew smooth lines of the statue she had borne witness too, as well as the piece of a glaive given to them by the temple. Scales of dripping rot. Teeth of molded tar and bloodied clots. Feathers plumed between the scales, the tail forking from the misconceptions of history. And still, you claim not to remember, but I think your body does. Falora tapped her pen against her chin in thought., painting the murals of her mind to piece together the truth.

Asen'Orilion's fall.

Tempests and maelstroms swirled around the rough carving of the dragon in a fatal descent, screeching into the air with one final breath. Struck down by the other Gods, but... Falora rubbed the sketch of a dragon with her finger. Is that it? In Azarian myth, you didn't start evil. You were corrupted. But by what? I think that'll be the key — and I think we'll only find it in Celestan. Falora flipped to another page about Skyhunters and their own tenets — for a hint of what Orilion stood for — the divine soul.

What gives our lives meaning.

It was nothing more than rough sketches of great aetherbeasts and several airship models. Nothing on Asen'Orilion, the Titan of the skies themselves. Skyhunters. Falora bit on her tongue, tapping her pen into her temple.

"How's research going?" a curious voice questioned.

"It'd be going a lot better if any of the texts mentioning Asen'Orilion didn't go on about how awful and evil he was." Falora paused, then lifted her head. Violet eyes met her, a quirk of the lip, Alexavier squatted in front of her with a smile. Her late process made her jump and bump her back into one of the boxes. "Alex!" Hand on her heart, she tucked her sketchbook away. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Hard to do on an airship, also, I walked right in front of you," Alexavier pointed out. His squat turned into a full sit. "Why are you wanting to do so much research on Asen'Orilion?"

Falora studied him. Deception woven in truth. Deceit made of the white lies. "I'm curious about Azarian mythos. I've been on land most of my life and I thought I'd familiarize myself with your people. I'm sure we'll be running into larger sky cities."

"Maybe, but Celestan is on the ground," Alexavier said with a poke of the hull beneath them. "You don't want to be on the ground. You want to get to Arth'lun. You made that clear enough." Alexavier released a heavy sigh and straightened himself out. "If you're wanting to know more about the Titan of the Sky — you would have better luck asking any of his priests and priestesses."

"You mean the ones that got executed for being heretics and cultists?"

"Yes, those ones."

Falora put her cheek in her palm and let out a puff of air. "Let me get right on that."

Alexavier laughed. "You think too small, Falora," he said. "Just because they're all dead, doesn't mean all of them were erased. It took much longer for their persecution in the Azarian skylands — and we certainly didn't burn away all their information and books even if others desperately tried to rewrite them." He knelt down in front of her again. "I can tell you don't trust me, Falora. I'm sure your reasons are your own, so I will provide some assurance." His hand lifted to his shirt, and a chain of silver tangled across his fingers when he pulled it out from its fabric shield. Her heart jumped a couple beats at the dull, crystal surface, surrounded by two thick feathers. Entranced by the cyan, the shining blue which lost its luster. The eye of a hurricane; the first moment Asen'Orilion opened his eyes and upended all she knew.

"What is that?" she rasped with a shaky finger.

"It's a gift from my mother, the only thing I managed to save," Alexavier said. "And, she was the last believer of Asen'Orilion in my life until my dear old father had every trace of her erased. You know how it is with family. Reputations to uphold and all that, and well, I may be a bastard but I'm still one from a reputable family." He wiggled it in front of her. Its hypnotism of a swirl catching her eye. "If you put much stock into the Dragon Gods — this would be what the Head Priest or Priestess would be gifted. A Dragon Heart."

"That's a dragon heart?" Falora gaped. "I expected—"

"Something bigger?" Alexavier said. "I did too, but Mother assured me up and down when I was young that it was the real deal. Something about my great great great... you get the idea, grandmother, earning the favour of Asen'Orilion."

Falora jumped to her knees. "How?"

Alexavier tucked it back into his palm, but let it slip between his fingers again. "I don't know," he mumbled. "You follow Ase'Lesinia's teachings, correct? Knowledge for knowledge's sake? If there's a question to be had, better ask it. Including this one," Alexavier said with a wry, mischievous grin. "Do you think your amnesiac friend would know the significance of this? Stranger things have jogged people's memories, and he's an incredible Air Elementalist — mayhaps he's someone forgotten that contains knowledge of the truth."

"I've tried asking him," Falora threw up her truthful shield. "He doesn't remember anything. He barely remembers his own name."

"Memories aren't so easily erased, Miss Falora." Falora lifted her head to him when his gaze turned serious. "You want me to pilot you to Arth'lun. You are going to have to trust me. I am not so quick to judge. If I had the whole picture, maybe I can provide actual help instead of a probably hopeless attempt in trying to break an ancient barrier created by the Dragon Gods to separate them from the mortals."

Falora tucked the book she tried to find answers away where she found it and faced Alexavier with a breath. "I found him washed ashore after a storm that practically shook the world," she managed out, as helpless and small as she was during the storm which took her parents from her and always, people decried Asen'Orilion for the actions of inherent nature. "It is... really hard to reconcile what I've been taught to what I see." Falora gripped onto her sketchpad, the last gift from Father as much as the Dragon Heart was one final gift to Alexavier from his mother. "All my life, I was taught that every bad thing that exists in this world is because of Asen'Orilion. That this world is the way it is because Asen'Orilion's tyranny almost destroyed everything. It was his actions that brought down the seat of Arth'lun and created the ultimate divide between us and the Dragon Gods." Falora took in a deeper breath of the fresh, piercing air given to her by the very same God who the world defiled in imagery. "But, you're right. I follow certain tenets, and if there's a truth to be had; I want it."

Alexavier clutched onto the necklace tighter. "With that in mind, speak his name."

Falora peered out of the glass again, where the clouds brushed against the mighty structures which formed the ruined temple, scorched and burned in its deepest recesses. "In what tone?" she asked. "Do you want me to give it power, or to tell you the truth of why we're both here?"

"It might be one in the same."

Dawn's light slipped through the cracks. He didn't trust me just as much as I didn't trust him because of how duplicious I was acting. Hells, I suspect he trusted Orilion more than he trusted me because Orilion... can't lie. He is Ase'Lesinia's twin, the truth to her desire for it. Just like Asen'Orilion couldn't trust me because I refused to open my mind. It flowed in her mind, with the inkling of what had to be done to meet her immortal soul.

"Asen'Orilion."

Alexavier lowered his gaze to the dragon heart.

It glimmered, but had long lost its luster. Falora bit on her tongue. "He doesn't remember anything. How do you give a Dragon God his memory back? He's divinity, he shouldn't need mortal help."

"If it's true I've got an amnesiac Dragon on my ship in the form of a mortal man, not even his Azarian imagery..." Alexavier hummed in thought and tucked the necklace back in his shirt. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to make a detour then. It shouldn't be too far out of the way."

"Why... do you want to help us? I just told you I've smuggled a Dragon God onto your airship. Notedly, one the world thinks is an evil tyrant who thinks the moment he gets his memory back he'd turn into it again."

"I'm a Skyhunter — you follow Ase'Lesinia's tenets? In every Azarian text, one of Asen'Orilion's monikers was 'Sokohual'. Skyhunter, in your language. He was the original Skyhunter, and even if most Skyhunter's don't know it or don't want to know it — it is by his example we end up following. To be free." Alexavier huffed. "I didn't used to put much stock into it until my near death experience with that storm, but it was like I was carried to help. Nature is inscrutable, but—" He pointed upwards. "Do you think, mayhaps... that even a Dragon could want to walk as a man? To know the world as 'Man' does?"

Falora folded her arms. "Why would he want to do that?"

"Good question. We're notoriously fickle in turn. In all of mortal history, would you not call us the storm of existence? With our songs, our wars, all the good and evil we're capable of? Do we make excuses for our actions by saying 'well, a Dragon made me do it'." Alexavier chuckled. "Kind of sounds like the old argument a child would make."

Falora let all the tension slip out of her limbs. "I don't know what to do."

"Hence why I mentioned my little detour," Alexavier said with a smile. "I want to take you both to my mother's home island. It's abandoned, and who knows, there may be more secrets there that she protected even to her dying day. And I haven't seen her in a while. Maybe this will be the time to seek Asen'Tharalon's mercy to say hello."

Falora mused, "You can... do that?"

"Do Landers not have dedicated shrines for death-mirrors?"

"No? That was always thought to be necromancy."

Alexavier tapped his lips. "It's so much more than raising skeletons from graves — it's not necromancy. It's just... a mirror, a glimpse into the other side, a reflection of one's loss and grief, to never forget a face."

Falora paused. "Do you think it'd work on Asen'Orilion?"

"We could find out."

"I'm sorry," she began, causing Alexavier to study her. "For... not telling you the truth of what you were getting into."

"I won't hold it against you. You didn't know me, but I hope the assurance helped."

Falora furrowed her brow at where the dragon heart hid itself. "It did. You should show it to him. Maybe it'll jog something for him."

"You two went deeper in the temple right? Did you find anything?"

Falora nodded. "Yes, this place isn't just a temple. It's a forge," she told him, perking his interest from the way his head tilted. "It responded to Orilion's presence, but it caused him pain, and after all that, he still didn't remember anything. Mentally, at least. I don't know about physically anymore." Her fingers pinched her lips. Speaking of, there's still that twisted... sunscar on his back that he claimed immolated his wings. It must mean the one to strike the final blow on him would've been Ase'Soliria — and the Head Goddess in all religious texts next to Ase'Lunayu. Falora rubbed her fingers. Then there's Asen'Gaiaros and Asen'Tharalon. Each of them had another. Sun and Moon. Life and Death. Knowledge and...

"Sky to Falora?"

Falora jumped at Alexavier's query. "Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Thinking about the potential of running into all the other Dragon Gods. If Orilion still exists... the others do too, don't they?"

"They'd be ruling from Celestan. That is also where the order of the Celestial Templars have made their base of operations."

Falora hummed, then sidled past Alexvier to head for the stairs and he followed suit. "My brother's a Celestial Templar in service to Ase'Lesinia. Not that I'd think he'd be willing to help, but... he might be willing to listen." Falora clambered up the steps, but barely reached the landing when an alarmed shout sounded from the deck. Zyle. Alexavier pushed past her without hesitation. Falora followed suit.

Her legs turned to jelly at the scene.

Orilion, heaved over onto the deck with a splattering dark pool growing from the dripping tar escaping his lips. Zyle stood there, unharmed, but shocked. Alexavier looked between them, then rushed for Orilion. "Sir Skeptic," he said, and Falora trailed behind when Orilion looked up at Asen'Orilion, looking about as terrified as Zyle. "You must breathe."

"How is that going to help?" Falora snapped.

Alexavier glared at Asen'Orilion, who shrunk. "You haven't breathed this air in a very long time. Holy grounds such as this would have cleansing properties."

"What is it cleansing him of, then?" Falora pressed.

Alexavier looked down at the black, oozing puddle when Orilion went ashen, but he obeyed Alexavier's command. Falora went to Orilion's side, placing a hand on his back, but she gasped when it tore at her fingers with burning hate, rage, and a roar to shake her bones though it had gone silent on the deck. Clouds pulsated above their heads, a thunderous tempest. Alexavier followed the sound with a frown, but returned his attention to the dying god in front of him. "I know who you are."

Asen'Orilion made a gurgled sound of confusion, looking between her and Alexavier until it rested only on her. His expression went from scared to 'really' in a dry manner. Falora gave him a weak grin in turn. "At least you don't have to duck around lying anymore?" she offered, helpless.

Tar stopped dripping past his lips, and he wiped at his face.

"What?" Zyle asked.

"It's a long story, love," Alexavier said. "I'll tell you soon." It was then a mischievous glint entered his eyes. "Never thought I'd imagine myself in a situation where 'Sir Skeptic' would be the object of some people's skepticism himself." He knelt down in front of Orilion. "A God who is a skeptic."

Orilion stuck out his tongue in a disgusted manner, then sat down with a cough. Falora frowned when the puddle dissipated into particles and swept away by the wind of the temple. "Orilion...?"

Orilion looked up at her, a glimpse of the cyan hurricane. "...I might've been hearing things, but... I swore you called my name so I made my way back because I thought you were shouting that we were leaving." He motioned at where the puddle had been. "Apologies for... that."

Falora brought a hand up to her mouth to block out her gasp of surprise when Alexavier grinned further in vindication. "Do not apologise, Ori," Alexavier said. "It is but all those half-lies the world's been feeding you leaving your system." He got up with an outstretched hand, which Orilion took after a moment. "I never want to hear you judge my way of skyhunting though."

"I wasn't judging, I was just saying an airship can be barely constituted as flying."

"Well, as you can see, neither of us have wings so we must make do—"

Falora let the two men argue semantics, with Alexavier quick to divert attention and redirect onto something far more cheerful with Orilion trembling as a leaf against a storm.

Yet, she found her gaze, along with Zyle, trapped on the puddle made of death.

A sickened thought entered her head. Is he... dying, the longer he's in that form? The longer he doesn't know who he is? Is he... going to cease to exist?