At the ferocity of your hug, Ysora sputters in surprise, but after a moment’s hesitation she returns the friendly embrace, albeit uncertainly. Which is probably just as well, because if she had hugged you back with the same intensity you probably wouldn’t have a spine or ribcage left.

“I know you would have. It’s alright.”

Ysora says tiredly.

“I had other people to help me.”

She continues, looking back over her shoulder at the disjointed mess of raised and lowered earth that was now all that was left of Narle. Katashiko had been here, clearly – you had seen her with Hondshioh but there had not been any time to talk – preparations for this battle had to be made. Now she was gone, and so was Hondshioh, and there was barely anyone left to talk to.
Of her mystery helper, Ysora said nothing else, although given her mournful expression upon gazing at the chaotic monument Katashiko had left, it was easy to figure out what had happened there. One more good man’s soul wasted in the Hells. At least he would have plenty of company.

Looking over your shoulder, Ysora’s brow suddenly wrinkles in confusion as she notices your small group’s rearguard. Noticing Ysora’s attention, the woman looks away quickly, but her face had already been seen.

“Hephestia?”

Ysora asked, prompting a sigh from your newest pupil.

“Hello Ysora.”

“What happened to you!? Did . . . did Demetrius . . .?”

“No. *This* is to be my punishment, as decreed by our Lady. May Her will be done.”

Hephestia muttered without enthusiasm, angrily gesturing at herself. Immediately a smile flickered on Ysora’s face, cutting through the exhaustion and grief. The archangel had to fight to hold back her laughter, although a few giggles still leaked into her voice.

“I see, hee, that our Lady still, heh, has a sense of irony at least.”

“So glad you find this amusing. Now my shame can be complete.”

Hephestia growled, whirling about with the clear intention of stomping off. However, she was still not quite used to her new body, and so her feet got tangled up in each other. The archangel-turned-human went down hard, throwing one arm out to catch herself and managing to scrape the heel of her palm open. Wincing, Hephestia pushed herself back up, looking down at the blood welling up from her palm while her face flushed a charming shade of pink. Ysora was no longer laughing now, and gently broke your grip before walking towards her.

“Let me talk a look at that, sister. I’m sure I can –“

“No. Forget it. And forget me – I’m no longer your sister. Remember?”

Hephestia said, sucking on her palm a moment before turning and running back down the hill, this time managing not to trip over her own feet. Ysora moved to follow, but then simply sighed and stood her ground, shaking her head. Meanwhile, the sight of Tyra lying nearby on a stretcher caught your eye, and you moved over to stand over her and express your gratitude. The last Exarch of the Church merely looked away at your praise.

“I’m not sure you want the assistance of a traitor, Ander. Lord General Hondshioh may have absolved me of my sins, but if you would rather have someone to answer for the Council’s crimes, I am your last chance. I know that all my help here cannot wash away what I was a part of – nothing I do ever will.”

Tyra sighs and nods down at her heavily bandaged and splinted leg.
“But if you would rather have me face a lifetime of atonement rather than a heretic’s stake, I will do whatever needs to be done for the good of the Church. After I am back up on my feet, that is.”

If there was ever a time for one of your motivations speeches, you had to admit that this was it as you looked around at the bedraggled survivors of the Church, and at the assembled crowd of frightened civilians. Unfortunately, you had nothing for any of them – the words just wouldn’t come. And so instead you simply set the wheels in motion for you all to start walking away from this disaster.

Along the way, you were sure to stop by a number of villages to get supplies and drop off the assembled civilians, but Luxien was the intended destination of the remaining paladins. All told, it would take you a week or more for your battered column to walk all the way back there. You could potentially try to use Zariel’s teleportation circle again, but without the former Lord of Blood available to work the magic, that seemed like a dangerous path to take.
As you turn to start walking down with the others, you hear someone approaching and a soft feminine voice call out your name.
“Ander.”

Turning, you take a moment to recognize the woman now standing before you. It is Rose, Seraph’s wife, looking almost as dirt and blood stained as she had been beneath Ironheart, and now with a scrap of cloth roughly tied around one side of her face, over the eye (a new wound from the Battle, or something inflicted between Ironheart and now?)

“I wanted to know if you have seen my husband. Seraph went back into the city with the other paladins, but the ones who returned on Akor all melted away into the crowd before I was able to approach any of them. I had hoped perhaps you had heard . . . something.”

A glimmer of hope flickered in Rose’s remaining eye, but the downturn of her lips suggested she already knew what the answer was going to be. Still, despite the hard lines that had been etched into her face by what she had experienced over the past several months, including what happened below Ironheart, her back was straight. This was someone who could take the truth, even if it only confirmed their worst fears.

(I don’t know if you want to hold a detailed conversation with Rose right now, so I’m just going to sweep ahead to the night time).
**********
Later that evening, which really was only a few hours later, your ragged column was setting up camp. Those paladins who were still able to stand had been starting to draw lots over who would stand guard during the night, but the angels had insisted on that duty instead, allowing everyone to get a full night’s rest. You are just starting to make a final round of the camp before drifting off to an uneasy sleep yourself when the flap of your tent flies open. A moment later, and Hephestia comes barging in, looking rather agitated.

“Ander. I-I think something’s gone wrong with my transformation.”
Hephestia holds up her one, now scabbed-over, hand to show that it is shaking as she continued.

“I’m starting to feel light-headed, and a terrible gnawing pain has started to form in my abdomen. You are a human – what’s wrong with me!?”