As requested, Neri’Va waited. She kept her promise to Rayven, resisting the urge to sneak from her narrow room in the temple each night. Instead, she watched the world from her window, pressing her forehead to the glass as Denday’s light faded from the sky. The blue moon was dark, its gentle glow hidden—a consequence of the old war between the sisters, Quintra and Denday. Neri’Va knew the stories by heart, but they felt heavier now, as if each night’s darkness pressed not just on the land but on her own thoughts.
Time moved slowly. The days in the temple were filled with ritual: prayers at dawn and dusk, tending candles on the altar, fetching water from the communal well, preparing simple meals with the other novices. The older priestesses eyed her sometimes—perhaps suspecting the tension beneath her calm—but Neri’Va busied herself with tasks, quiet and careful. She wrote letters she never sent, her thoughts tangled between Light and Dark, duty and curiosity.
When finally the red moon, Ghor, passed from the sky, Neri’Va felt relief as keen as hunger. At first Denday’s light, she prepared her basket anew: bread, cheese, some wild honey she’d bartered for in the market, and a handful of sweet berries from the temple’s own garden. She wrapped everything neatly in cloth, then hid the basket beneath her cot, heart thumping with anticipation. That evening, when the last prayers had faded and the town had settled into the hush of night, she slipped quietly from the temple, crossed the main street, and edged along the wall that separated the village from the fields beyond. The guards at the small gate paid her little mind—she was just a novice priestess, after all, and she carried only a lantern and a basket. Once past the gate, she hurried across the dew-wet grass, the field silent except for the gentle croak of frogs and the distant call of night birds.
The forest loomed ahead, tall and dark, the edge of the moonlit meadow giving way to a wall of shadow. Neri’Va drew a steadying breath, then pressed on. The undergrowth brushed her ankles, cold and damp, as she made her way to the familiar path towards the old well—the place she had promised to meet Rayven again.
She arrived at the clearing, the well half-lost in shadow. The branches of the great tree above had thickened with new leaves since her last visit, and the ivy clung even tighter to the stones. Neri’Va set her lantern on the edge of the well, its light a small comfort in the vastness of the dark. She glanced around, half-hoping to see Rayven already waiting, but saw only the shifting shadows of the forest.
“Couldn’t leave without your precious Light, I see,” came a sarcastic voice from somewhere beyond the pool of lantern glow.
“Rayven? I needed the lantern else I wouldn’t be able to find my way here,” Neri’Va explained, smiling in spite of herself.
“You do know that a lantern will only light a small portion for you, effectively blinding you for everything outside of its light, right?” Rayven replied, voice echoing from the dark. “Kind of like… the faith you choose.”
Neri’Va turned slowly, searching for Rayven’s shape in the gloom. “Where are you, Rayven? I can’t seem to find you?” She stepped back from the well, peering at the patchwork of shadows beneath the trees.
“I am where your light won’t reach,” came the reply, a touch of laughter in Rayven’s voice.
Neri’Va narrowed her eyes. She studied the way the lantern’s light fell across the clearing, casting odd shapes and leaving deep shadows beyond its reach. At the base of the tree behind the well, a silhouette seemed to detach itself from the trunk—two eyes glimmering faintly blue.
“There you are,” Neri’Va said, smiling gently. “You surrounded by dark, me standing in the light, yet both here. I… brought some more things.”
She knelt by the tree, placing her new basket at its roots, just within Rayven’s reach. “I hope the things in the other basket were to your liking.”
“Is there cheese in there?” Rayven asked, a hint of teasing in her tone. “Not for me, but the little ones emptied your last basket that same night.”
Neri’Va beamed. “Yes, there is more cheese in there. I am so glad to hear that!”
“I bet you are,” Rayven replied dryly, though Neri’Va heard a warmth beneath the sarcasm.
“I… hope all of you were safe… during Denday’s dark?” Neri’Va asked hesitantly, folding her hands in her lap.
“We were,” Rayven answered, the words quiet, almost careful. A silence followed, heavy with unspoken worries and memories.
Neri’Va searched for the right words. “It must be hard… especially in the days of Denday’s dark. With the red moon above us.”
Rayven’s reply was bitter, but honest. “It is a bitter reminder of our loss. And yet another thing Light worshippers try to pin on us, as if we also cause an increase in Ghor attacks.”
“That is nonsense,” Neri’Va said, more forceful than she intended. “Denday has nothing to do with Ghor, you’d hope everyone would know that by now. If anything, the night has become more dangerous because Denday herself isn’t on Eonil anymore.”
“That was kind of the point though, wasn’t it?” Rayven said, her voice rough. “Get rid of our goddess so she couldn’t empower us anymore. And all because of jealousy. The facing of the blue moon is just a bitter reminder of that.”
Neri’Va looked down, fingers twisting in her robe. “Denday wasn’t just empowering her followers… She was also protecting everyone from Ghor attacks during the night. That night when… Quintra banished her sister, she made the night more dangerous, not Denday or her followers.”
“Careful, novice priestess of Light, or you might get smited,” Rayven chuckled, and the sound was oddly comforting.
“Quintra will not punish me for speaking truth,” Neri’Va said, lifting her chin.
“Probably not, but her followers might,” Rayven mumbled, half to herself.
Neri’Va hesitated, then spoke quietly, “Were you already a Paladin of Denday… you know… then?”
Rayven was silent for a moment. “During the war? When we lost our goddess and were hunted down and slaughtered by the Light zealots? Not in the beginning, no.”
Neri’Va’s mind drifted back to her childhood. She remembered, as a very young elf, the sky before the banishment: the blue moon whole and bright, its light a constant comfort at night. Then the night Quintra’s wrath broke the moon, and Denday was cast away. Dust clouds had covered Eonil, and when they cleared, half the blue moon was dark, her light lost. And with it, the world had changed—dangerous creatures crept forth, and Denday’s followers became hunted prey.
She found her voice. “What was it like?” Neri’Va asked softly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Rayven’s eyes seemed to reflect memories as old as the forest itself. She spoke slowly, her voice low. “That night it was dark. I had a bad feeling about the situation but my mentor assured me that we were strong. Our goddess herself had joined the fight and tonight we would be victorious. Fools they were, all of them. They didn’t listen to the concerns of a Paladin in training because what could she possibly know? Clearly her faith in Denday was lacking. With our goddess at our side we were invincible, they said. If only they knew.”
Neri’Va listened in silence, heart aching for the pain in Rayven’s words.
Rayven went on, voice growing distant. “And we were, we were winning. Never had I felt so powerful before or since. The blue moon shone brightly, we were empowered to the max. Everything seemed to go in our favour, until the Light goddess herself showed up.”
Rayven paused, lost in her memories, then continued. “As Quintra attacked Denday some fools stepped in to try and protect their goddess. My mentor was among them. He got a full hit from a Light blast. It was a miracle he wasn’t killed on the spot.”
Neri’Va’s breath caught, but she said nothing, letting the story unfurl.
“Denday was clearly horrified by the fact that her followers were suffering by attacks meant for her and so she took to the sky. Rising above the battlefield with the blue moon behind her, she looked both majestic and powerful, it was like she was drawing energy from the moon itself. Yet I still couldn’t shake that feeling that something terrible was about to happen. I crawled to my mentor and tried to get him to safety. But he just pressed his horn in my hand.”
Rayven’s words became more halting, every memory sharp as broken glass. “I should have been more thoughtful of your warning, he said as he took his sigil and pressed it in my other hand. ‘You were right, Rayven… You… are a Paladin of Denday now… It is your duty to protect our followers… lead them to safety…’”
The Night dweller closed her eyes, shaking her head. “And then he died. I got up and blew the horn, trying to rally my people to me, but there was too much chaos. Those few that did hear me came, there was little I could do for others. I could only hope they would see us leave and follow. So I made my way to a nearby forest, blowing the horn, rallying as many as I could. When I was at the tree line I turned around briefly to look over the battlefield.”
A long moment of silence passed. Neri’Va barely breathed, as if any sound would break the spell of the story.
“Quintra had assembled something in her hand and empowered it with her Light. I remember screaming to Denday but even if she heard me at all it was too late. A blinding flash of light shot from the goddess of Light directly to her sister and launched her towards the blue moon.
The blast had such force that every follower of Denday that was close to Quintra was instantly vaporised. The rest of us were launched in the air and those that were standing on the edge of the forest like I was were thrown on the ground. It felt like being torn in half, like your heart was being ripped from your chest and dragged behind the blinding blast of Light heading straight towards the blue moon. Yet your body was pushed to the ground at the same time, unable to move.
Eonil shook to her core seconds after the moon was hit and darkness spread within seconds. I called for Denday to give me strength but she couldn’t answer. I felt completely drained. The wounds that I got during the battle suddenly seemed ten times worse than they were before.”
Rayven clenched her fists, her eyes glittering. “My sight was blurry and my ears were ringing. Around me I heard crying and screaming and desperate pleas for help. But above that all, the shouts of victory from the Light zealots and their leaders calling for the slaughter of all followers of Denday. We had just lost our goddess and now this battlefield had turned into a massacre. Somehow I found the strength to get up and blow the horn. We fled into the forest, those of us who could still walk that is and hadn’t given up. The rest were being slaughtered without mercy. From the grand army we had gathered the night before only a handful of people survived the night after.”
Neri’Va pressed her hand to her mouth, stricken. “That is… just dreadful… I’m so sorry.”
Rayven’s voice was soft, almost resigned. “It’s in the past. It’s not like you can change what happened.”
“I can’t,” Neri’Va said quietly. “But I will do what I can to make it better for followers of Denday. Quintra has declared peace.”
Rayven shook her head. “So sorry if I do not take your word for it, Neri’Va. I think some of your faith have yet to receive that bit of news. Or perhaps they have suddenly gone deaf. How convenient for them?”
“I understand what you mean, but Quintra is trying to do better,” Neri’Va said earnestly. “And I am her Novice priestess who is trying to follow her example. That should at least count for something?”
“It does, Neri’Va. Like it does that you are not standing here defending what she did. But you better go now. Come back another night. I will look out for you.” Rayven managed a small, sad smile. “And don’t forget more cheese! And for Denday’s sake… at least try and learn how to use an actual weapon. That lantern of yours is nothing but trouble!”
Neri’Va smiled through tears. “Alright Rayven. Thank you for telling me. And I… I will try to learn how to use a weapon… I will.”
Rayven’s eyes narrowed, but her voice held a note of gruff encouragement. “Don’t try, just do it!”
Neri’Va laughed a little, the sound shaky. “I… I will try. Stay safe, okay?”
“You too… Novice priestess of Quintra,” Rayven said softly as she watched Neri’Va take her lantern and walk away. “Walk in the Light always.”
As Neri’Va made her way back through the dark, her mind buzzed with everything she’d heard. She glanced once over her shoulder, certain she saw a faint blue glow among the trees—a silent promise that, in this world of Light and Dark, friendship could still grow.