*The Savior: A Laethen Folktale and how it relates to Voln Society by Whistfylle Wyrefox [#i9c1238e]

There is no greater pain then love lost; be it the love of a
sweetheart, a child, a soul mate, a parent. The innocence of love is so pure
and wonderful its loss is always a tragedy, in whatever form. Laethe guards
those who have been touched by this sadness, and tries to heal the hurt
however he can.

Through my worship of Laethe, I have discovered many stories of how
he has touched common folk. I have polished this one until it may truly
shine, but retain its ability to be told orally.

My opinion is that the Voln Society's second step of Tonis, for the
Symbol of Sight, is not Tonis' step at all, but Laethe's. In the fishing
villages of the coastal cliffs there are many stories to be gleaned of lost
loves, but this particular one stands as my evidence.

----

His boat went down early that morning, the small fishing craft rammed into a hidden reef close to the shore. She had always told him how foolish he was to have never learned to swim.

When the sun began to set over the sea, she left her village deep in the coastal cliffs, walking slowly over the dunes. She paused, reaching a stone where they had sat and picnicked often, in happy times. Folding her skirt beneath her, she sat upon the rock, soaking in the last rays of the falling sun, remembering.

He gazed deeply into her eyes, barely a man at eighteen years old. She thought she could almost see his soul in their deep brown depths as he asked her to be his wife forever. She had consented of course, for in him, she had found the only person she would ever love.

He had scratched their initials into the stone they sat upon, saying that even when both of them were gone the letters would live on. They were to be married in the summer, but his death was in the spring.

Her fingers were raw within moments of beginning the carving, but she continued as one possessed. A thorn, just so. The stem of the rose she chipped into the boulder extending to cradle their initials. Her thin bladed gutting knife was no worthy match for the rough stone, slicing her hands as often as the rock. As she finished, bloodied and tearful, she murmured a prayer.

The prayer of the lass was not to any particular god, only a softly muttered wish for blessing. As the words escaped her lips, she took up her now dented knife, and slit her throat. She had no wish to live without the one she loved.

As she died, her spirit drifted toward the Ebon Gate, and Lorminstra shook her head sadly, stepping away. Gosaena moved to welcome the girl with the only embrace the Goddess knows, but then the Mistress of Death withdrew as well, revealing two men.

The first hissed, stretching a reptilian claw to touch the girl's face, but then recoiled. The second regarded the lass momentarily, deep blue eyes filled with sadness, before nodding and moving to take her hand.

The lass and the young man seemed to hover slightly above the boulder where her body lay. It was many minutes before he spoke, his voice low and sorrowful.

"I shall do all that I can," said he, "but you have made your decision, and there is little I may do to reverse this." She hung her head, remembering her family and all those she cared for. She thought of the pain she would cause them and the young man nodded. "In this choice you have lost not only your true love, but the smaller loves in life, that often bring just as much joy. However, perhaps there shall be another choice to make this night."

The man inclined his head to her, speaking softly. "Lady Winter can not take you, you have no fealty to her. Lady Death refuses you, as does the Father of Lies. You chose to take your own life, yet you are too pure for one such as himself. Your soul is doomed to wander these lands for all eternity, never to find rest.  I offer an alternative." The girl wept, realizing exactly what she had done. She cried upon the man's shoulder until she had not another tear. He held her fiercely.

"You shall be the guardian here," he continued, after she had cried away her pain,  "preventing others from making the same mistake. You shall watch the cliffs, watch the folk, until I deem that you have repaid your debt to me.  Then you may rejoin your love, and your family on the other side of the Ebon Gates." The lass gave her consent, reluctantly leaving his embrace to perch upon the rock, now clean and empty of her body. 

"May I ask a question of ye?" the girl inquired tentatively, as the man turned to walk away. He stiffened slightly before facing her, and nodded. "Who are ye, Milord? And why d'ye wish to save me?"

The man chuckled softly, the half smile not reaching his sad, blue eyes. "I am called Laethe," he replied. A single tear slipped unnoticed down his alabaster cheek. "I saved you, because you Loved," he sighed, and was gone.

Her folk searched for the lass the next day, high and low to no avail. They reached the boulder, bloodstained, with a battered knife lying atop it.  A single perfect rose was carved upon the black stone, cradling a pair of initials. The villagers stared at the flower. A deep, perfect purple had seeped in to pigment the rose, the color of heart's last blood, untouched by air.

She was gone, and they accepted it, slowly. Slower still, she was forgotten.  As the wind and rain rubbed at the stone, the rose and its letters were worn away, replaced by other carvings. A lover's name, sets of initials, tender poetry.. all etched into to eternal rock, all to be worn away with time.

----

For those who have never completed the particular Voln Society step I speak of, I shall explain it. You must trek to a rock, deep in the coastal cliffs. The air there seems gentle, and nearby grows a patch of wildflowers. The stone is carved with many things. "Lovers' names, intertwined with symbols of devotion, the gallant oath sworn by an adventurer obsessed with revenge, the memorial tribute to a husband lost at sea--all speak for those long gone."

When you reach the rock, you must say the words, "You have not been forgotten". As I remember it, I experienced this: 

"As you say the words, the air becomes still and hushed.  Then, you hear a girl's soft crying as though coming from a great distance.  It is not entirely mournful and seems to carry with it a sense of relief, as if your message somehow brought comfort to her.  "Thank you," you hear the strained voice say, "because of this, I can bear the burden yet a while longer.""

It is my belief that the voice of the girl, (while perhaps not one and the same as the lass in the folktale), is a servant of Laethe, as this stone is obviously a primitive, unofficiated shrine to My Lord. She reaches us, in a brief moment of ceremony, thanking us for what little we can offer. From her, we attain the ability to seek those who may need us, or who we may need, with the Symbol of Sight. The camaraderie Volners share can be thought of as love, thus I see this symbol as a blessing from Laethe and not Tonis at all.

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