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RAIN BEAT AGAINST US, soaking every inch of our bodies. But none of us dared move. Mitztail returned the lute to his back. With his tale now told, it seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. He pushed his hardee back on top of his head and allowed himself to cry. Looking up at the moon as if it was his lost love silently watching over him. He spoke words, barely audible for me to hear, but I assumed it was a silent prayer to his long fallen comrades.
‘Thank you,’ I was the first to speak. ‘Truly, I thank you for sharing your tale with me, especially when you hardly know me. You have my word that it will not be in vain, I shall carry your tale with me always.’ I placed my hand over my heart, his tale had touched my soul. I truly felt for his struggles and never wished for him to be alone again.
‘Well I for one, am glad I met your acquaintance,’ Barcius piped up. I turned to see him looking unimpressed by the situation we’d found ourselves in. ‘Albeit you’re a troublesome feline at times, but you’ve saved us more times that I can recall. I wouldn’t label you a coward. On our travels together, you never once ran, you always fought our problems head on. You’ve become a great ally, but most importantly, a good friend.’
Tarasque kicked herself off the wall she’d been leaning on and started ringing out her tresses. ‘You know my thoughts on the matter, you managed to turn your life around despite your hardships for that I am glad,’ she said, her tone soft. ‘But here we stand in this trial gate meant only for you, yet we have no lead as to how to complete it. This city is nothing but a husk of what it once was. It’s a ghost town, how do you propose we proceed?’
Mitztail lifted his head up, wiping the rain from his eyes. ‘That’s the thing, I haven’t a clue of where to start,’ he replied, placing a paw under his chin to think. ‘Perhaps mew have an idea, oh wonderful scholar.’
The tiefling scoffed, ‘Watch your tongue, tabaxi. Pardon my saying, but nothing out of the ordinary happened in your tale. No otherworldly power that drew you to make your decisions. What else can you tell us?’
I considered his words and added to them, ‘My power surges when I feel a strong pull to the earth, how is it your magic works?’
‘Well,’ Mitztail said, ‘I always felt drawn to the night. It was when my inspiration was at its peak. I used to sing to my sisters in the night, when the moonlight hung high in the sky. As it was when I set out to the City of Celestria, when I reached fame and fortune. Much like it is this evening. The moon seemed to always be my guide.’
Barcius dug into his pack, rummaging around for something. All manner of things were thrown aside, odd components for spells and trash resources harvested from a variety of fallen beasts. He removed Cogsworth, setting him down gently on the stones beside him before going back to his pack until he retrieved a dusty tome.
‘Ah here it is, you never know when one might need a copy of the old religions of our land,’ he said proudly.
But Mitztail shook his head and replied with his wicked tongue, ‘I cannot think of any time or situation where I’d need such a thing.’
The tiefling shot a poisonous glare as he leafed through the tome, ‘Here it is. Tell me, have you or your family ever worshipped a deity?’ he asked.
‘Not that I can recall, mother never prayed, never forced us to either. But my line of tabaxis are referred to as the Keeper of the Moon. Direct descents of the moon Goddess or something.’
‘Then it could be what I thought.’
No one in our little circle spoke. Cogsworth didn’t even blink.
‘You think this is the work of a deity?’ I asked the question we all seemed to be avoiding.
‘Humour me for a moment, if you’d be so kind,’ Barcius said, and while Mitztail rolled his eyes he agreed to listen. ‘At each significant point in your tale, you looked to the moon for guidance, for inspiration. Like a sentinel it watched over you, guiding you through the darkness. You have to consider the possibility there are other forces at work.
Mitztail sighed, placing his paws on his hips, ‘Now when mew put it like that, it’s hard to ignore the signs. But who is the deity of the moon?’
‘Sehanine, the Moonweaver,’ the tiefling announced, handing the open book to him.
I peered over to get a better look of the page, an watercolour illustration of a beautiful maiden, pale yet alluring, like the moon given a human form. Her silver-white hair piled in braids and curls on top of her head and cascaded down her back, and dressed in layers upon layers of floating fabric. A silver halo of starlight circled her head and her eyes inky like the nights sky.
Mitztail glanced at the page then back to the tiefling, seemingly confused with what he was looking at, ‘You think I need to find this, Moonweaver?’ he queried.
Barcius gave a nod and stole his tome from the tabaxi’s paws, ‘I believe it’s a strong possibility when you consider the evidence,’ he said.
I chirped up into the conversation, ‘But how do we find this, Moonweaver?’
The tiefling chuckled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, ‘I’m so glad you asked, little satyr,’ he replied. I didn’t appreciate being referred to as little, however. ‘We follow the moon.’
We stood staring up at Barcius as if he was crazy, he couldn’t be serious. I glanced at the night sky, littered with stars with the moon, full and bright, watching over us. There she sat, out of reach, and with her the possibility of the second sacred relic slipping through our fingers.
‘We follow the moon?’ I repeated, ensuring that I heard him correctly.
‘Barbaric,’ Tarasque snapped. ‘I’ve always trusted your theories, Barcius, but even this is a stretch even by your standards.’
‘Allow me a moment to explain,’ the tiefling said, practically begging. ‘Sehanine is said to hide in plain sight, yet hidden to anyone except those worthy. Considering Mitztail’s inability to refill his creative well, perhaps…yes that’s it!’
I jumped out of my skin at his yell, Barcius stood inches from me. I shot him a glare.
The tiefling turned to Mitztail, picking him up and circling him, ‘I understand now, it was so simple, why didn’t I consider this.’
‘Just get to the point,’ Tarasque snapped, adjusting the fastenings on her garments, readying herself for whatever was to come next.
‘Mitztail,’ Barcius called.
The tabaxi hissed, still held in the air by the tiefling, ‘Unhand me, I say!’
‘Sorry,’ Barcius said, returning him to solid ground before continuing, ‘Where is the one place, in the City of Celestria, have you always dreamt of performing?’
‘What does that have to do with anything? Did you raid my secret stash of catnip, we talked about this,’ Mitztail replied. His last few words he spoke more quietly, hoping we wouldn’t hear his admission. The tiefling didn’t meet his gaze about the comment. He sighed, ‘Where else than the heart of the city itself. The noblewoman’s court. There’s a fountain in the centre of the courtyard, I’d dreamt of using it as a focal point in my performance, lanterns scattered across the tiles. Mew three must think I’m a silly dreamer for wishing such things?’
I kicked off my crate and took his paw in my hand, smoothing his fur, ‘I don’t think that dream is silly at all. What prevented you from living it out?’
Mitztail chuckled, ‘Why my fall from grace, of course,’ he said. ‘I fell out of love for my music, and with it my adoring fans soon followed. After which I met the Whiskerteers and the rest, as mew know, is in the past.’
‘What if Sehanine’s realm is hidden there?’ I wondered aloud and looked up at Barcius.
‘There’s a possibility. This is Mitztail’s trial, everything, should, be connected to him one way or another,’ the tiefling said before descending in one of his theory crafts, inaudible to the rest of us.
Tarasque turned to leave the alleyway, the lion shield on her back acting as our beacon, ‘Let us make haste, Sehanine awaits our call.’
Mitztail unhooked his lute from his back, a swell of pride on his face before he said, ‘If our brave paladin leads, then I, as your humble bard shall serenade our journey.’ Before strumming on the strings, he produced several little lanterns, shaped like kitten heads that followed us as we walked. ‘The city is dangerous at night, please take these, who knows what might lurk in the shadows.’
Together we walked, journeying with the lanterns as our guide, and the tabaxi’s gentle strumming to inspire us. Even Cogsworth lit his bulbs to assist us. Through winding streets, and passed narrow buildings, all seeming devoid of life. The city of Celestria may have still stood, unlike that of Tarasque’s homeland, but it might have been better if it had been destroyed. A ghost town, reeking of broken dreams and desperation. But still we continued to march on towards our goal. The noblewoman’s court awaited our presence.
Hidden in the centre of the city, sat a pristine amphitheatre, built of perfect white stones with barely a speck of dirt on them. It was polar opposite from the ruins the city lay in.
The second I walked through the archway, I felt it. The same electric surge that brought me to my knees. I buckled, tripping over my own hooves and collided with the floor.
‘Saria,’ Mitztail said and ran to my side, his melody cutting off with a violent twang.
‘I’m fine, really,’ I replied, scrambling back onto my hooves. I caught sight of my other comrades staring at me, their brows furrowed with concern. ‘Th-there’s magic here. I can feel it.’
In an instant, Tarasque drew her blade. The lion shield now on her right arm and the greatsword in her left, she walked into the centre amphitheatre and called out to the heavens, ‘Lady Sehanine, Goddess of the Moon, please heed our call.’
But no one answered the call.
Unsatisfied with the little response she’d received, the fire genasi trained her eyes to the night sky. I followed her gaze, and was taken back by what I saw. The moon, once far in the distance, was now directly above the amphitheatre, threatening to fall.
Tarasque grit her teeth and furrowed her brow, yet she stood her ground, driving her greatsword into the ground and thrusting her shield up to the heavens. ‘I don’t know what kind of cruel trick you are playing Moonweaver, but the Ashen Order will not yield.’
Upon hearing those words I rushed to aid her, our comrades sticking close to my side.
I turned to Mitztail and said as I knelt down and placed my hand upon the white stone, ‘Perhaps the Goddess may only listen to your voice.’ I closed my eyes and listened to the voices of the earth, hoping to hone on a single target. But the earth was silent for a time, until I trained my focus, locating a faint humming in the distance. Slowly the tempo increased, its pitch higher, ringing in my ears. Another shock surged through me and I was brought back to reality.
‘Me?’ he squeaked in reply, ‘Why me?’
‘Just a feeling,’ I said weakly.
‘I trust you,’ Mitztail replied, tipping his hardee to me and retrieving his lute from his back. He moved to stand before Tarasque and gently tapped her shoulder, ‘I’ll take it from here.’
‘Do what you must, we’ll be right here,’ the fire genasi replied. She removed her greatsword, sheathed it at her hip, yet kept her shield resting on her arm.
Mitztail exchanged places with Tarasque, standing in the centre of the amphitheatre. He trained his eyes up to the moon towering above him. ‘Here goes nothing,’ he said, positioning the lute between his paws. ‘Sehanine, Goddess above, heed my call. For I am Mitztail Nimble-paws the second, proud descendant of the first tabaxi, Dancing Willow, and the Keeper of the Moon clan.’
His call caused the ground to shake, and the moon high in the sky began its descent, inching closer and closer to the tabaxi. Yet despite the fear instilled in his eyes, he held his position.
‘I tire of running, and if this is to be my last stand then so be it,’ Mitztail bellowed, a purr laced in his tone as his paws struck a chord. ‘I will deny destiny till my dying breath.’
But even his words could not hold the moon back. Still it continued edging closer to him, to the point Mitztail braced himself for impact. The moon, a beacon of silver light, stopped inches away from the tip of his hardee before erupting into pure light. The once whole sphere, now fragments scattered across the amphitheatre, revealing a pale elven woman. She cupped Mitztail’s face in her hands, folds of silk floated all around her.
‘Sehanine.’
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