[Llevura loses access to her divine spear shortly after Almalexia leaves for the Clockwork City.]
The Hands of Almalexia waited.
And waited.
It was to be a quick trip, no more than an hour or two. She was just going to follow the Nerevarine to the Clockwork City, in case she ran into more trouble than she could handle and needed a god's intervention. This was Almalexia's divine truth as given to her Hands.
So they waited.
Several hours passed, according to the tiring of Llevura's legs and the grumbling of her stomach. The Hands fidgeted quietly, awkwardly. Llevura, for one, was thankful that her helmet hid her concern. She wondered how many of her colleagues felt the same.
Finally, Llevura said, "Let's take breaks in shifts." As one of the older Hands, her words carried some weight when their god was not present to give orders.
She motioned for Drals, a younger Hand who had been fidgeting the most, to leave his post with her. They obtained some food from the Temple Ministry and then headed toward the front of the building.
"Let's eat on the front landing, if you don't mind," Llevura said. "I know it's ashy out there, but I'd like to keep an eye out for...anything."
For what, she was not even sure herself, but Drals offered no objection, and so they sat on the stone floor outside the entrance to the Temple with their kwama eggs and saltrice. Her old joints complained, but she had a feeling that no amount of cushions would bring her comfort right now.
"Don't look so nervous," she chided quietly when she noticed after a few minutes that Drals had hardly touched his food. "There's nothing to worry about, and you'll set a bad example for the priests and templegoers."
"You're right," Drals said with a forced smile. "Most likely the Clockwork City's defenses were more than the Nerevarine could handle, and the Sacred Lady in her unending mercy intervened to help her. They're probably fighting through fabricants as we speak."
"Exactly," Llevura said. Perhaps if she tried hard enough, she would even believe it herself.
They finished eating in silence. Llevura had to remind herself a few times to stay present and avoid worrying, just as she had reminded Drals. When they were done, they stood up and stretched, and replaced their helmets to block out the ash from the ongoing storm.
"You could take an hour or so to rest," she said. "I, however, don't feel much like resting right now, and might stay out here and train. You're welcome to join me, if you'd prefer."
"Training sounds good," Drals said. Despite not being able to see his face, Llevura thought she could hear some relief in his voice to be offered an alternative to being alone with his thoughts.
Llevura retrieved blunted weapons from inside, and they descended the steps to the yard. They positioned themselves across from one another, with the front door of the Temple in their view, in case any news should arise.
Llevura drew back her hands and called forth the spear of light granted to her by Almalexia. No spear appeared.
She glanced up at her training partner and laughed nervously. "Off day, I suppose."
She relaxed her hands, and then drew them back again. The same motion she had made every day for almost eight centuries, a motion as natural to her as breathing. Her hands remained empty. Her stomach lurched.
Drals clapped his hands together to cloak himself in burning light, an ability also granted to him by their patron. Nothing happened. He tried once more. Nothing.
Llevura's heart and mind raced. Perhaps it was simply due to Almalexia technically being in a different plane? No, Llevura's divine-granted abilities had worked during her own trips to the Clockwork City in ages past, and so the reverse would also be true.
There was only one explanation. One impossible, unspeakable explanation.
They stood facing each other, neither wanting to be the one to say it.
"Let's just stick with physical weapons for now, hm?" Llevura managed to say after what felt like an eternity.
Drals nodded. And so, despite the fact that Llevura could barely feel her limbs, she drew her practice sword and they fought. What else could they do?
After a few bouts, they were distracted by movement on the Temple landing. A mer who Llevura recognized as the Nerevarine stood talking to another mer in a blue dress, whom Llevura could not identify at this distance. Actually, as Llevura approached, it looked more like the woman in blue was doing all the talking, but she seemed to finish her speech and disappeared before Llevura reached the steps. She stopped in her tracks for a moment as the ash storm cleared up all at once, and then removed her helmet and continued her approach.
"Serjo Ildari," she called up to the Nerevarine as she ascended the steps to meet her.
The Nerevarine turned to face her. Her eyes were puffy, and her stance was that of a mer who was exhausted in much more than the physical sense. The poor girl looked like she would rather be anywhere but here.
"Good to see you've returned," Llevura said, because she could not think of anything better to say. "I assume everything went as expected?"
There was a look in Ildari's eyes, a pain well beyond her purported twenty-some years. It was all the answer Llevura needed. Her world shattered.
"Right," she said softly. "Carry on."
The girl nodded with some relief, as though she had feared being detained in any sense of the word, and channeled a spell to depart. Over the whoosh of the recall spell, Llevura barely heard her whisper, "I'm sorry."
