She was willing to die to save the world carrying her god within. The team, and the god, however, were not willing to let her fade so easily, but, when it was over, what was left would need a lot of healing for her to be fully restored, a lot of rest to regain what was lost, and she'll never be quite the same again. Once you have harbored divinity within, even when recovered, you never escape being changed.
@internutter/challenge-04208-k190-sacrifice-of-the-willing -- Anon Guest
Wypacket didn't trust gods. They were far too pushy and didn't do anything unless the mortals begged nicely enough. As a Felida, he refused to beg. Begging was for dogs, not a noble creature like himself. His ancestors were once venerated by the hairless ape-people calling themselves _yoomins_or suchlike.
But he did like Aubine. She'd found him after the Carnival People had stolen him and done horrendous things to make him perform for entertainment. Or, more precisely, after their actions had taken too steep a toll and they'd thrown him away. She'd saved him from the brink of death, and treated him like a person. That was worth something. She was foolishly kind and generous enough to let a god ride her body so he was foolishly loyal enough to follow her into the pits of whatever hell this was and keep her safe.
He didn't know magic. He didn't trust gods. He had clever hands, fast feet, and sharp eyes that could spot any danger before the other two even bothered.
Or, in this case, another captive.
Elven, like Aubine. Chained to the wall and gagged with it. The Paladin and the Cleric alike would have set off the wards. Not Wypacket, with his ordinary lockpicks and blades sharp enough to cut imbued runes. The magic he set loose sparked in his fur, but it was worth it.
The hat had been in better shape, but the important part was that the Elven Wizard had it on. The first words ze said were, "May borrow your knife?"
"I keep it sharp," said Wypacket, then flinched in alarm as the Elf casually sliced off the lumps of matted hair. "You're either three parts mad or Wraithvine hirself," he blurted.
"Charmed," the Elf bowed. "Now who here is the saddle of a god?"
If anyone could help, it was Wraithvine. And if this Elf wasn't Wraithvine, then the god would know. Either way, there wasn't much to lose in trying.
Lenus recognised the Eternal Wizard in an instant. Wraithvine offered hir hand and said, "Ride me for a time."
Aubine was left weary and ragged, but Wypacket would not leave her behind. She was heavy, and Wypacket struggled to lift her. He almost hissed at Verity and Hal when they took the weight instead. Aubine was worn half away from the burden of carrying a god, and she was a stout halfbred.
What hope did a spindly full-elf have?
Hal and Verity were only doorways to their gods. Aubine and Wraithvine could carry Lenus because Aubine was devoted and Wraithvine had touched the heart of a god before.
On their way between traps and snares, Wypacket asked, "Can someone carry a god if they don't trust them. If... they don't really believe?"
"You'd let a god burn you?" said Lenus through Wraithvine's mouth. "Eat your life away a day at a time and erode your soul in the process."
He said, "Aubine's the best part of this world. If she lives, it's worth it."
The next few days were fuzzy, but he knew the deed was done. He, Wraithvine, and Aubine took turns carrying Lenus. Which was odd. Lenus left the movement to him, but everything else was... beyond him.
They did defeat Vexacion, who had been perverting the fragment of divinity to create some kind of eldritch vortex to awaken a sleeping anti-deity[1] or a pack of them. It didn't matter. They had three and a half gods on their side if you counted Wraithvine. The shared divinity was enough to incinerate Vexacion in the end. And they made sure to burn all of her spare bodies before they got there.
Wraithvine captured the evil soul in a special vial, and would work on its reform in upcoming centuries. Ze had that kind of time.
Lenus bonded with the fragment, and left their hosts with a gift. Something extra, as well as the slow healing from having a ruptured soul. For Wraithvine, a favour from the gods when ze needed it the most. For Aubine, patients more inclined to be patient with her. And for Wypacket, the ability to conjure a sunbeam to rest in.
[1] The kind of god you pray to so they go away and don't happen to you.
[Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Unsplash]
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