Since so many people seemed worried about this, I think I'll go ahead and publish this one before the next chapter. It needed tweaking anyway.
Interlude: Harmless
Litanadiance hummed to herself as she guided another pilgrim back to the waiting room. His limp had receded, and he was staring at what had been, but mere moments ago, a lame ankle. It brought a tender smile to her face, as always. The face of those they healed soothed her in ways nothing in Fantasia could.
It had been their Father's wish. To be something he sorely wanted in such a dark place. She had said so to the one pilgrim who had asked.
She had been an old woman, wrinkled, weathered by years and wisdom. She'd only asked for the kindness to let her husband live out the rest of his days free of pain, and Litanadiance had agreed. Three days, she had visited him, morning, noon and dusk, to bring him poultices and cast calming spells.
On the morning of the fourth, he had expired, and she had brought comfort to the widow next.
"Why are you doing it?" the old woman had spoken through her tears. "Gotham breeds it out of people."
"It is only right," she said. "Father taught us."
"I have so little to offer in return," the old woman had bemoaned then, and her shame had hurt Litanadiance. There had never been words of payment. She would have never even thought of it.
"I will never ask for anything in return for my help. It is freely given."
But it was pale comfort, she knew. She saw.
The old woman had promised to return. What for, Lithanadiance had no idea. But she remembered every time the soothing bell over the door rang.
New pilgrims sought them every day. Every hour, some new faces would join in. Whispers came of people from a place called Bludhaven. Beyond that, even.
There was so much pain in this world. She was starting to wonder how her Father had imagined Fantasia, free of ills and danger. A split second, she longed for the endless green fields and the crystal waterfalls of her hometown. For the beauty of the fractured light bathing the waters next to her parents' home. And then, she heard the bell again, and she remembered her duty.
A haggard male human, bleeding child in arms, ran under the arch of the entrance. He did not even notice the stone statues overlooking the doors. He rushed to the front, jumping over stretched legs and ignoring protests.
"Please! They shot my son!"
Litanadiance exchanged a look with Resniel, and her elven mate jumped over the reception desk. He met the father in a flurry of gold and silver, and he brought up his hands to join Litanadiance's.
In a second, her spirit reached the powers of this twisted land, and she guided it into her working. Soft light washed over the bleeding wound. Shades of cyan danced over skin, tickling enough that the boy stirred whilst the hole in the flesh mended itself. Frantic reassurances to the boy faded into awed disbelief. Into overjoyed blubbering.
"Dad?" came the boy's faint, near inaudible question.
"Jack, it's okay, you're okay. You're okay. The nice people helped. You're not hurt."
Warmth reached her sides, as Resniel hooked up his platinum arms around her waist. He said nothing, but there was content in the shape of him against her. In the gentle breeze of his breath against her ear.
Blessed be their Father and his benevolence. Without his foresight, this family would have been broken today. Without his trust in them, more suffering would have gone on unhindered.
Already, three of her fellows had left on pilgrimages of their own. Trishtulen, to the North, where he had felt agony calling. Jeyliwel, to the East beyond the Sea, where her heart had been pulled. And Gerhild, to no one, for reasons he had not disclosed.
Eight of them remained. Enough to stem the flow of requests. Those that could be healed by their magic. For some, it required all of their combined power.
Twice, desperate parents begging for the strength to battle their inner demons and truly be the one their offsprings deserved. She had joined force with her fellow priests then. Had brought together a power granted by their god, and healed the dark need from the humans, in hopes they would resist its lure forever still.
She did not know, but she liked to believe they would truly be good parents. If they had had the will to ask for help, then they would have the will to try again. As many times as it took for their souls to purify themselves.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" called out a deep voice, and heads whipped around to the entrance. "This is your lucky day!"
Deep in her guts, Litanadiance suddenly understood that the group of men that had come in found the lie funny. That they liked the irony of calling an unlucky moment lucky. It gave them a sort of vile power, moreso than the dreadful looking artefacts they carried – weapons, Father had told them.
They were seven, garbed in bright green and purple masks. The man at the front of his group strutted, pushing through, and ill pilgrims hurried out of the way in a sight that turned her stomach.
"The Riddler has a little request for the Miracle Man. A challenge." She saw a pair of pilgrims tense on their chairs. "First one to lose grants the other any request within their power."
"Sir, please understand," she pleaded quietly, hands crossed in a prayer, "The Creator left. It is only we loyal few that remain of our own will, to heal the wounds of this world. If your master requires healing, he might request it, and we shall give what we can. We believe all should be saved from suffering."
The Creator had smiled at that. Before leaving, Trishtulen had been more than enthusiastic to save their Father's words on the Holy Script. He'd argued so long about the finer points, wanting to know every little reason, every detail. Father had only rubbed the back of his head, muttering something none of them could hear. Red had touched his face. But he'd smiled back, patted Trishtulen's back, and returned to his suite for the night.
"Where is he then?"
"He told us nothing of his destination, other than he himself did not know."
The hit stung. Low displeasure with a radiating sensation throughout her jaw. She almost gasped at the tender feeling of her flesh when she prodded it with curious fingers. Her own body begged her to investigate no further, and she lowered her hands. Was this physical pain?
"Love!" Resniel shouted, kneeling next to her. His cool hands helped her remain upright whilst the room span.
"Isn't that sweet?" one of the invaders crooned. "He didn't like you touching his woman, Joe. Bitch could use a firmer hand, I'd say."
Resniel held her tighter at that, but she needed not his support. The Creator had blessed her. An unpleasant human could not take this away from her.
"Our god did say something else," she breathed out. "He apologized for leaving. He seemed fearful."
"Guess he heard of the boss coming around, huh?" some brute jeered, his comrades chuckling. "Well, maybe we should try and get his attention. Should get him running back fast, right?"
One of the weapons made a strange noise, like a griffin's beak clicking before diving for prey. It was a dangerous noise. The room seemed to have quieted.
The pilgrims were afraid. Her mate was afraid.
"He will not allow this," Resniel said, voice trembling. She'd never heard him this way. He… he was snarling. Elves did not… anger was not theirs to live.
But none of the humans understood. "He's not here, is he?" they postured, gesturing around with their weapons. "Maybe we should leave him a clue on behalf of the boss."
"You wi-" Her touch silenced Resniel.
She stood up effortlessly and turned to the men. "On the Day of Creation, our god created the needless, the firstborns, to be distinct from himself. And of them, he asked they be free of chains, for he saw dependency as a terrible sadness."
"Well, that's all fascinating, and all, girl, but we-"
"Then, he created us," she cut in, voice clear and even, "his secondborns, to be charitable when he could not. As the selfless, we are to be gentle and generous, to perpetuate his wishes for kindness to spread. We have no taste for anger, for hatred. For pain."
Her fingers intertwined with Resniel's. His breath hitched, shock flashing through his sweet golden eyes. Red spread across his face, and she let him close in the distance between them.
The invaders' expressions had darkened. Threat now screamed from their stances. The one at the front spoke again. "We did not come here for some preaching, girl."
She forged on ahead, as if she had not heard him. "And on the Day of his Departure, the Creator brought to life our siblings, fourth to be born, the harmless, to be shields against the cruelties of this world."
Behind the invaders, both gargoyles stirred, their eyes ablaze with white fire.
"So they could prevent harm from ever reaching the innocents."