On a far-flung island whose name has long become immaterial, in a long-dead ocean, a siren sang. She sang not to lure sailors, for she had not seen ships in many years, nor did she sing for her food, even though her body burned constantly now with pangs of hunger. The reason this siren sang was for the passing of her only friend, another siren whose pristine beauty was slowly morphing into mundane humanity. Humanity was the death of sirens, on the world of Callia.

Eons ago, when the world was younger, Immortal sirens had been made from Mortal humans, a cursed guard to protect their god's secrets. Now, ages since the Gods had passed from the world, their spellwork was slowly coming undone, and the world was no longer a place for humans. First to go had been the invisible chains that kept the sirens tethered to their islands, and many chose to leave for the wider world. But over time the magic keeping them as Immortals unraveled, until the Mortal death of their humanity caught up to them.

On this forgotten island in the desolate sea, there remained only two Immortal sirens, soon to be just one. A woman of porcelain beauty, her skin pale and hair and feathers snow-white, sang one last tune to her dark-haired companion, a now-aged looking woman whose feathers were falling out. The old lady lay on the sand, breathing slow and shallow as her humanity was enraptured by the song. Tears streamed down the younger's cheeks, but she didn't stop singing, for she wished to ease her last friend into whatever oblivion awaited them.

Slowly, with what remaining grace she had, the older siren cupped the younger's cheek. "I love you, Swan," the dying siren said, before the life finally left her eyes.

"I love you, too, Oriole," Swan replied, holding tightly onto her friend's hand. Into the clear evening night, she wept, wailing a cry most unlike those known by sirens, a cry of pain and loss deeper than any siren had ever known.

Swan was now the last on her island, possibly the last of her kind in the world, and there was nothing holding her to this place.

Some days later, Swan found herself in the remains of what used to be a vibrant coastal city, exhausted and wings cramped uselessly after days of uninterrupted flight across the empty ocean. The salt-crusted city hardly looked like it was occupied, but her legs had driven her on anyway. The desolate buildings surrounded her, the sun and sea long having stripped their colors away, leaving only bone-white remains. Empty windows stared like empty eye sockets and broken edifices lay like broken skulls. The dry and broken fountain she sat on gave her little solace, only accentuating how long since the place had seen someone to care for it.

A chill wind blew in from the sea, causing Swan to huddle more closely against the fountain's statues. She was not used to the cold. She had spent ages, perhaps millennia among the other sirens, warm bodies to huddle against whenever winter set in. There were no more sirens to huddle against.

She sat there brooding for some time, apart from the shiver and occasional tear looking like a piece of the very fountain she sat on that had not yet fully succumbed to the ravages of time. A reverberating crash broke her out of her reverie. Not 100 paces in front of her, someone or something was thrown bodily into the street. Stepping out behind it was what appeared to be a statue, pale as stone and strewn with cracks yet moving as if it were a living thing. One batlike wing rested beside a broken stump along with other pockmarks and broken protrusions, but it moved fluidly as it raised the other figure off the ground. The other also seemed like a statue, made of nearly black and smooth stone with the flicker of red firelight running along it and shining from between joints. Swan did nothing but watch as the pale figure rammed the darker again and again against the wall of the opposite building, until the red glow faded and the black stones scattered beneath its claws. When it was finished, it glanced at her, and she saw the glare of intelligent malice in its eyes, before it stalked back into the lonely building it had emerged from.

The cold was suddenly more comforting.

Swan daren't move for many hours, and her eyes rarely strayed from the site of the violence she witnessed in all that time. She was no stranger to violence — as a siren she was the cause of a lot of it herself — but she could still feel pain as a Mortal could, and after witnessing so many of her own kind pass on, she wasn't so sure she could recover anymore. It was entirely possible that she was beyond whatever magics had granted her immortality in the first place. Out of the corner of her eye she could even see a single gray hair.

A raucous rattling came from down the same street she had witnessed the statues earlier. It grew louder as it approached, until the curious creature causing it rounded the corner. It took a long moment until Swan recognized it for what it was, a troll. With legs seemingly too small for its bulbous body, the green and wrinkly thing was wrapped in brown rags and carrying three times its size in bags and junk on its back, the latter of which had been the source of the clatter. The troll walked right up to the pale statue's seeming residence, and to Swan's surprise was not attacked for its troubles. She could not see the two beyond the street, but all the while she could hear the rattling of the troll's bags.

Swan still hadn't moved when the troll had emerged and it made its way toward down the street towards her. Her heart quickened even as she clutched herself closer. The clatter ceased as the troll stopped before the fountain. It stared directly at her.

It let out a low whistle. This caught Swan somewhat by surprise. "Begging your pardon, miss," the troll said with a garbled but undeniably masculine voice as it removed what could only generously be called a hat from its head, "but it's been ages since I seen somewhat as pretty as you."

Swan was unsure how to respond. It had been ages since she last saw another living being that wasn't a sister siren, and ages more since she had last spoken to any other race. She said nothing as her mind raced to recall the words she once knew, her eyes tracing every fold in this wrinkled being's face.

The troll scratched his misshapen head awkwardly in the silence. "Eh, they call me Jingles. Or Jangles. On account of I jingles, see?" He shook a little to get his point across, the various bits and bags jostling around in a brief din. "Eh, you got a name, miss?"

"Swan," she croaked. Her throat scratched as she spoke, drier than she had even realized. She hadn't drank anything since leaving her former home.

Jingles visibly flinched. He spoke quickly, replacing the tattered hat on his head. "Oh, but miss Swan's got a problem. No creature such as yourself should go ruining their voice like that." He began to rummage through his packs for something, but stopped quickly when a stone shattered against the fountain. Swan cringed from the dust and rock. Jingles said "Eh, maybe better we go someplace else first." He packed up and started walking around the fountain, leaving Swan to see the stone creature from before standing in the stret, staring at her.

Jingles started talking almost as soon as she had caught up with him. "Gargoyles're always ornery creatures. They get places in their heads, see, and they don't let go. They like being alone, and they like quiet. Jingles isn't neither. You ever seen a gargoyle?"

Swan just shook her head. She had no idea where they were going, but anywhere seemed better now than staying around an angry gargoyle.

"Hmm," Jingles grunted. "I thought so. I said to meself, 'Jingles, this lady looks like she been nowhere but home all her life,' I said. All the ladies like you, not a one I seen been as pretty."

If this troll was telling the truth, it seemed other sirens had passed this way, and they had all had their beauty stolen from them. Swan considered the possibility she really was the last. Her eye drifted to the gray hair, but caught movement in an alleyway beyond. Jingles kept walking, and seemed to still be talking as if he hadn't noticed her absence. More movement turned her head, and Swan realized there were many more people around her than she had thought. Suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was, alone and flightless, she hurried after Jingles. A small procession slowly gathered behind them, but remained silent as they followed.

Jingles kept walking and blabbering until they reached what once was a market square, now just a large area where rubble had been cleared. He dropped his many packs to the sound of a small landslide, then proclaimed to the group following them, "Baubles and things for shinies and trinkets! Jingles has the world in his pack! Come see the world and offer a little bit back!" With that, he began dumbing out bags and opening drawers and generally making a mess, Swan thought. The crowd didn't seem to be as concerned, looking on at the dusty and dirty pieces of junk he scattered about, some even picking up an item or two in reverence or curiosity.

More deft than she had given him credit for, Jingles handed Swan a cup of liquid she had never noticed him pluck out of his belongings. He winked at her as she took it but said nothing, turning his attention back to the crowd. It smelled of plants she thought had died long ago, bringing back memories of spice ships and their cargo. She sipped carefully, remembering how some of those spices burned, but to her surprise it was cool and soothing. She drank the cup in silence as Jingles conducted business, taking coins, jewelry, scraps of fabric, even broken glass and shells in return for his wares, leaving his pile of junk looking more or less the same as when he dumped it. A few customers would stare in amazement at her, often to be verbally batted away by Jingles.

Swan was mesmerized in turn by the crowd. None of the Mortal races she remembered were here, instead angels and demons and djinn walked and traded alongside each other, beings of earth and fire burned without heat, ragamuffins of skulls and and tattered cloth shambled alongside moving masses of hairy and bulbous fungi. Swan drank in the faded colors as she sipped the medicine Jingles had given her.

Eventually she had finished, and Jingles quietly took the cup back. "I have nothing to offer you," Swan said softly.

Jingles looked at her knowingly, responding just as softly with, "You can sing."

A hush fell over the crowd, though he had hardly spoken louder than a whisper. Many eyes fell upon her, some expectant or hopeful, some dead and waiting.

"Just whatever strikes your fancy," Jingles said, sitting atop one of his drawers of wares. "Can't imagine it won't be as pretty as the singer."

Silently goaded by the crowd, Swan sang. The tune was like her: still beautiful, but lesser without the chorus of her sister sirens. She sang of the loss she felt, of watching the world take from her all she cherished, and of love that might never return. Her voice could not charm these Immortals, but there was a magic in the air nonetheless. A spark of hope rekindled in the eyes of many by her lyrical voice. For the moment, she had transported them away from the skeleton of a city to a time and place where flowers bloomed and flames burned more brightly, a place full of the life they once knew. A tear or two shimmered in the sunlight. A few knelt in reverence remembered from an earlier time. Jingles had removed his hat again, letting a stream of tears carve trails into the grime on his face. More people shuffled into the square, drawn from elsewhere in the city by her musical voice, not a one daring to interrupt the moment.

Time seemed slowed, and yet the ending came much too quickly. As the last echoes of her song faded away, Swan took in the crowd she had gathered. There was no applause, no charmed babbling, but they all seemed to stare with a newfound reverence. As the crowd began to silently shuffle away, she even caught a glimpse of the one-winged gargoyle from before, who gave a small nod as she caught its eye before turning away.

"Thank ye, miss," Jingles croaked before sniffling messily. "'Twas a good trade."

A nearby angel, gaunt but proud in his glimmering armor, rose from one knee to address Swan. "Siren," he called her, "I recognize your kind, but the nature of evil has changed, and that which remains good, such as hope, must be protected. By your leave, I would follow whatever path you walk, my shield and sword for your life and honor."

A second angel joined him, and voiced her intentions of the same. One of the stone-faced fire elementals who had stayed also pledged their devotion. Swan was taken aback, and glanced at Jingles, the only other being she had so much as talked to since leaving her island.

"Aye," he said, "a fine company you'll make." He placed his hat back on his head and rose from his seat, gathering up his pile of curios. "And what'll the miss be doing, with a company like that?"

"Excuse me," the female angel butted in. "What right do you have on the lady, troll?"

"Begging your pardon," he said, bowing his head. "I only be bit curious is all. I've taken a liking to the young miss."

"Cut the flattery, Jingles," the angel said. "No one has been young in this world in a thousand years."

"Calm, Ariana," the male angel interjected with a hand on her shoulder. "Ours is not to strike out at the weary, but to offer ourselves to them." He turned to face Swan. "Upon my word as a guardian of all things good and pure, no harm shall befall you whilst you remain within the walls of Goldenshore, but I shall leave you to reach your own decision on my offer. Should you need me, you need only speak my name, Malkius." He gave Swan a short salute, gloved hand over his chest, and turned to leave.

The other angel sighed in defeat. "He is correct," she said, "and I will extend the same offer. My name is Ariana. Speak it when you have made a decision."

Swan stared after the departing angels, silent as considered their words.

A dark, smoky voice broke the silence. "Do not worry. It is within angels' nature to expect malice at every turn. Even in the twilight of this world, it is not quite so dark as they make it out to be."

Swan considered the voice's owner, the fire elemental who had pledged his devotion with the angels. "Is it?" she asked him. "How can you be sure?" Her own heart still heavy with sorrow, Swan was not yet ready to trust that the dying world wasn't ready to take more from her.

"It is within the nature of my own kind," he explained. "Even as we become nothing but cinders, we still seek the greater flame."

"What does that mean? Do you believe I can lead you to this 'greater flame?'"

"Hope is the greatest flame, my Muse. It brings light even in the darkest of times."

Swan stayed silent at that, unsure of herself. She did not know if she had enough hope left in her to spread.

Swan found herself wandering the streets through the night. Her mind was awash with emotions as she considered her place in this new world and the future that lay before her. Beneath bubbled something traitorously human — feelings of regret and humility lain dormant for millennia, now subtly commanding her attention just like the one line of gray among her otherwise pure white hair.

A few paces behind walked Charr, the elemental of fire which had pledged his loyalty along with the angels. He followed silently, not speaking unless spoken to, which Swan was thankful for. Having spent eons among a flock of fellow sirens, Swan was unused to solitude, but she was not yet ready to open up to the strangers of this land.

Jingles had said little of help before settling down for the night atop his own bags, yet his words still turned over in her mind. "What'll ye be doing with such fine company, miss, I wonder? Voice as pretty as yours, deserves to be heard." The troll's words had trailed off as he fell to sleep, and Swan left him to think on it.

This far removed in time and space from the godly spells which made her, she worried that her time was running out, like grains of sand through an hourglass. She wondered, if she wandered even farther inland, would those sands start flowing faster? Or perhaps she was already running low, no matter where she chose to wander. She knew little of this land, but she yearned to know. That yearning brought her taloned feet to the top of a building, near the edge of town, where she could watch the sun rise over the lands to the east.

The hills beyond the shore were as barren as the ocean she had crossed, stone and sand moved by the wind and colored by the sun. The golden dawn reflected in Swan's golden eyes as it crested the forgotten countryside. She stared out for a long time, wondering just what waited out there, what wonders still remained, what secrets were still guarded, and, perhaps just slightly, what kind of new people she might meet. As these thoughts and others turned over in her head, something that seemed out-of-place caught her eye. Something living had moved out there, crested one hill before disappearing behinds he next. Swan watched unblinking, waiting for it to crest the next hill, to be sure she saw it.

The horns rose first, thin and tall and branching like a sapling, sprouting from an equine head. Its body had a shine to it like a scaled fish, and before it vanished again she saw a long reptilian-looking tail lash two tips. When it crested the third hill, Swan reached out a supple arm to point out to it. "What is that, moving out there?" she asked.

"Ah, so you have seen it," Charr answered softly from behind her. "That is a kirin. They are drawn to the subtle magics of great change, or of great potential. I am certain it must be here because of you, my Muse."

Swan finally looked away from the sun and the kirin at that, turning to face Charr. "What do you mean it's here because of me?" she asked.

The stone-faced elemental bowed his head a little in polite reverence. "With due respect, you are the greatest change this city has seen in a century, and you have to potential to light a great many souls in this world."

Charr's tone didn't hint at duplicity, nor did his face betray any hint of ulterior motive, though Swan looked deeply for a long minute. The way the dark stone of Charr's face moved had fascinated her before, as it flowed almost like liquid to form all the subtle movements that a human face might, impossibly alien in its familiarity. His earnestness also perplexed her. She could accept that he didn't act for his own gains, but it was a curiosity, something she had forgotten in the eons among her fellow sirens. The silence returned between them even after Swan looked back out toward the kirin and the rising sun.

Soon the two were walking the streets again, heading toward the edge of the city in the direction Swan had spotted the kirin. By the time they got there, there was already a small crowd among the mostly-demolished houses and sand-blasted buildings. A susurrus rose over the gentle breeze as people whispered about the approaching figure. The kirin still continued its tireless approach, disappearing and reappearing as it walked up and down the hilly countryside. Swan waited with the crowd, her gaze drawn more by the menagerie of forms among them than the magical beast which came for her.

More Immortals arrived as the morning wore on, eager to see the approaching rarity. After a time, a distinctive clanging even came from down the street, eventually revealing that Jingles had risen and had come to see the old messenger of the divine. Once he found a place to sit, though, the noisy old troll joined in the relative silence, barely speaking above a whisper to those around him. Even Malkius and Ariana flew down among the crowd, touching down nearby Swan without a word.

Only once the kirin had made it to the flat stretch of land that denoted Goldenshore's older boundaries did Swan find her eyes captured by it. Where it had seemed blue and gold and red before, it was close enough now that she could see it was an iridescent white, shimmering scales reflecting the light of the sun. A wispy mane, nearly transparent, flowed like fire from its neck and the twin tips of its draconic tail in the same aurora of colors as light shone through it. The parts that weren't shining like a prism were a pristine white that even put Swan's uncommon beauty to shame, from its goat-like beard to its two-toed hooves. Swan was enchanted by it, and became more convinced of Charr's previous assertion as it drew closer. The kirin's presence numbed her mind like a dream, until all else faded from her thoughts.

The kirin paused before the crowd, regal and commanding in its presence though not a word was spoken. Caught in a trance, Swan found herself striding forward to meet the majestic creature in response to some unsaid command. In her thoughts, she knew she was to kneel, and so she knelt before it. With movement so fluid it seemed the oceans themselves were modeled after this creature, it bowed its head until she felt the barest touch of its horns upon her brow. A spark passed between that space, and threads of shimmering light wove themselves around her head and through her hair, solidifying into a brilliant shining circlet. Raising back up to its full height, the kirin stared down at her for a long moment, before turning away and walking with a steady pace, leaving no footprints in the earth.

A short eternity later, Swan's senses returned to her. A riotous noise had erupted from the crowd behind her, envious and conspiratorial talk mixed with cries of joy and celebration, some creatures simply applauding or calling for a song. She blinked away her hazy thoughts, reaching up to her head to ensure what she remembered was real. Her fingers touched a thin band of metal, and she was sure it had been. Jingles clinked and clanked as he trotted over to her where she still knelt in the dirt.

"Ah, that was something else, miss!" he said in obvious awe, despite the volume of his voice. "Never seen nothing like it, not in all my years. You've been chosen, you have."

A hand was offered to help her up, though it was the angel Malkius's hand. Swan took it, rising back up to her feet. "Your ineloquent friend is right." He said to her, "Such a rare display has garnered you an amount of recognition, though I doubt all of it will be to your liking."

Swan glanced out over the crowd. She saw the hopefuls and revelers quiet as she looked over them, and she saw those that cast dark looks her way before slinking off into the rubble of the outer city. She took it all in vacantly, her emotions dulled by the experience with the kirin.

"They would hear your intentions, or your genteel voice," Malkius said.

Swan stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.

"'Means they'd like to know where you plan to go, miss, or otherwise just sing like you did last night," Jingles added helpfully.

Swan looked at the green-skinned troll wrapped in brown. "I... I'm..." she started, reaching a hand up to touch the circlet the kirin had placed on her head. "It said I should go East." A wave of fatigue washed over her as images the kirin had planted in her head flashed in her mind. She felt powerful arms grab her as she fell, but the world fell away from her as she slipped into unconsciousness.

She awoke somewhere she didn't recognize, in a large interior space, a crumbling building of some kind. Little beams of silvery light came in from windows far above, suggesting night had fallen. A warm presence hovered over her, and she could feel a comb being pulled delicately along her hair.

"Oh, you're awake," a heady voice said. "You were gone for over a day, my muse."

"Charr?" she asked, recognizing the voice.

"It is I, lady Swan," he answered.

"Where am I?"

"We are in what remains of a Church of Waning. We were brought here by Ynebrek after the light left your eyes."

Confused, Swan tried to rise, only to be pushed back down and told to rest by her follower. "What do you mean 'the light left my eyes?' Who is Ynebrek?" she asked.

"Ah, forgive me," Charr said apologetically. "My kind, we do not know sleep as most other races do. I forget some phrases we use means 'death' to other kin."

"And Ynebrek?" Swan demanded.

Charr started to answer, but stopped as a large figure entered the room. It walked with slow, heavy steps that clattered as it moved the detritus which littered the floor. It loomed over both Charr and Swan, grey as stone and just as weathered. Cracks and pockmarks lined its face and body like wrinkles, and yet spoke to its strength rather than against it. A dread filled Swan as she recognized this creature, the one-winged gargoyle she had seen when first arriving in the city. "Calm," it spoke to her, in a voice as imposing and unbreakable as the mountains under the sky. "I am Ynebrek. You are safe under my roof." He spoke slowly, his words bearing all the weight of a landslide and none of the subtlety.

"I saw you," Swan said to him, "I saw you kill a-"

"He trespassed without my permission," Ynebrek interrupted her. "You are my guests here."

Charr laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Ynebrek brought down a demon intent on assaulting you when you fell, and gave us all shelter freely in the days since then. You need not fear him."

Unsure if she could really trust him, but seeing no preferable alternative, Swan relented. "What has happened since the kirin left?" she asked.

Charr did all the talking. He told her of the demon that sped forward as she fell, and how Ynebrek had pounced on it and broke its horns. The gargoyle revealed he had kept the twisted black things, which seemed to still be pulsing with dark energies. Jingles had left the city without waiting for her to wake, but had promised to spread word of her and perhaps help her find what she was meant to seek in the East. The hornless demon had twice tried assaulting the church with his minions as she slept, but was beaten back with the help of the angels Ariana and Malkius, who even now stood a vigilant guard outside.

"They would make good gargoyles," Ynebrek said. "But they don't blend in."

Swan was left feeling a mix of emotions. She could hardly believe these people had given so much of themselves to her without her asking, or having given anything of her own in return. She decided then and there that she would try to make herself worthy of their loyalty. "Malkius. Ariana," she spoke, remembering what they had told her when she first met them.

Moments after their names left her mouth, the two angels came down in the moonlight, motes of dust sparkling as their wings beat to bring them before her. "Lady Swan," they addressed her as they knelt before her. "We have worried over your condition, and it gladdens us that you have awakened."

Swan sat up, shrugging off Charr's hands as he tried to keep her down. "I have decided," she told them with confidence. "I would have you accompany me as I travel. I will head East, as the kirin told me, to find the great hall or temple I was shown." Swan tried to rise, but her strength failed her, and she had to be caught before she fell over. "Just as soon as I am able," she added, not quite as confidently.

"Of course, m'lady," Malkius said. "We will ever be at your call. Recover your strength knowing we stand guard against the evils that would taint you."

They returned to whatever posts they had held outside the church as Charr laid her back down on the small cot she had been laying on. She didn't protest this time, realizing just how little strength she had and wondering where it had all went, and whether she even could get it back.

When she had fallen forward, she had noticed a second silver hair.

Swan lay despondently in the bed for some time, while Charr busied himself trying to care for her. It seemed pointless, as an Immortal. Even without water, or warmth, or what little scraps of food he was able to gather for her, she would still recover in time. Ynebrek silently watched over them, still as a statue. It wasn't until he was alone with Swan that he spoke.

"You are worried," he said. His words carried all the weight of the world in them, and commanded Swan's attention. "Worried over your fate. I can see it. I know the same feeling." He paused, running a hand across his face. A layer of dust came away. "My life is nearly finished. I can feel my body crumbling more every day."

Swan had to break eye contact, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. "I cannot help you," she said. "Life and death are beyond my power. The meeting with the kirin didn't change that fact." A delicate hand reached up to touch the circlet around her head.

"It does not matter," Ynebrek said. "You have power all the same. This whole world is dying. But," he paused, taking a massive hand and gently turning Swan's chin to face him, "you can remind those who remain of the beauty they once knew. Don't think that comfort isn't as important as life to the dying."

Without another word, the gargoyle stood, turned, and walked out.

Sleep didn't come easy, but Swan did rest, convincing herself that it was not a selfish act to do so while the others stayed alert for her sake. Time passed quickly, and it could have been hours or days later that she awoke, rejuvenated yet troubled. While asleep, her mind had puzzled over problems of the waking world. She would need to speak with Ynebrek.

When she woke, however, she was greeted by Charr, who was always dutifully close. "My muse," he said as she rose, "you have a gift." He stepped away from what he had been working on, revealing an impossible dress.

A robe of brocaded satin had been hung over a bent metal frame, its colors still vibrant as if untouched by time. Blue, gold, and white threads were interwoven to form a sunset on the fabric, framed by the brilliant blue sea below and pristine white clouds above. Despite its regal appearance, it was modestly cut, with long sleeves and skirt and even a mozzetta to cover her head and shoulders. There was little doubt this was a religious robe, but still, its preservation and vibrancy in this old and dusty age made it more precious than diamonds.

Swan was left speechless. She considered her own form as she ran the fine satin over her fingers. No scrap of fabric had graced her frame in an age, though her naked body was no impediment like it might have been during the time of Mortals. No siren wore clothing as a matter of course – their uncovered bodies were more alluring to passing sailors, after all – but they weren't above wearing some opulent dress if they could snatch it before it was stained with blood or seawater. Had she been much younger, Swan might have greedily snatched up the offered gown, but time had made her more considerate. She knew what some untouched piece of the past like this would represent, and she also surmised what the gifting of such a treasure might mean.

She carefully donned the robe, with some help from Charr. Though she had to put it on over her wings, she found the robe to be voluminous enough to be comfortable, even as she shifted her shoulders and wings around to test it.

Charr commented as she did, "We will need to find someone skilled enough at needlework to cut wing-holes into the robe."

Swan responded softly, "No. I wouldn't want to destroy such beauty, or cover it with my feathers. Besides, if I were to fly, I would have to leave you behind," she added.

Charr grew somber for a moment. "There may come a time when that becomes necessary, my lady. If the darker side of Callia comes and cannot be held back, your light is greater and more important than my own."

Swan said nothing, but stared softly into Charr's eyes. They flickered as if light by candlelight from within, but have nothing away like the eyes of Mortals did. Guilt and pity wormed into her thoughts as she stared, and she had to turn away. "Where is Ynebrek?" she asked.

The old gargoyle was on a balcony overlooking the front doors, staring into the street below. His very presence was menacing to the shuffling mass of Immortals that came and went, hoping to gain entrance to see the siren chosen by the kirin. Many had seen Ynebrek pounce on the demon at the edge of town, and many more knew him as the bellicose and deadly occupant of the Church of Waning, so none would approach too closely under his unblinking gaze.

Swan couldn't help broadcasting her presence as she came up behind him; her taloned feet clicked on the marble stairs. He stayed still as a statue, so Swan stepped forward and addressed him. "Ynebrek?" she said. He didn't respond, so she stepped out onto the balcony and called his name again.

Her presence caused a murmur from the crowd below, capturing their collective attention and gathering even more passers-by to join them.

Ynebrek still didn't respond, and Swan could not see any life as she stared directly at his face. Hesitantly, she drew a hand up to his face, trying to find some spark of life in the cold stone. Regret stabbed at her heart as she considered the thought that he was already gone, his last gift already given without hearing her thanks. Desperately hoping to reach some part of him that remained, she began to sing.

Those gathered outside the church fell silent, gazing up at her as her melody echoed off the sun-bleached stone. It was a joyous melody, a thankful tribute to the earth and sea and sky. It sent hearts soaring on wings of faith, and more people drew close as their ears caught the tune. Swan's followers even approached from whatever watch they had previously kept, Malkius and Ariana landing nearby and Charr climbing up the same stairs she had taken. Swan paid them no heed, carrying on even as tears began to well in her eyes. She held on to Ynebrek's face as she did, as if she could physically drag his consciousness back.

As her song reached its crescendo and glided towards its end, something finally stirred within Ynebrek. With a breathy voice, as if with the words he relinquished his bond to the world, he merely uttered "Thank you," before crumbling to dust.

Everyone was silent in the wake of Ynebrek's passing. Swan slumped forward in defeat, the soaring song dead on her lips. Malkius stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Charr stepped out onto the balcony to do the same, and Ariana followed their lead. The weight of more than just the old gargoyle's soul was on her shoulders, as Swan let her tears fall to the dust which once was Ynebrek. A quiet eternity passed, the sea breeze salty as it blew in.

When her tears had all dried, Swan rose without word, leading her followers back down the stairs and out the front doors of the church. Immortals were still crowded outside the front gates, hoping to see her in her full splendor. There, on the front steps of the church, she addressed them.

"This," she said loudly, "is a sacred place. This Church, once dedicated to the Waning Gods, is now significant once again. It has seen me restored after being chosen by the kirin, and now it sees me take my first steps toward that destiny." She punctuated that statement by walking down the front steps, which seemed to energize the crowd. Playing to their expectations, she strolled forward with head held high as her followers fell in step around her. The crowd parted before her, and only once she had passed beyond did she turn to address them. "Let this church stand as a reminder, that there still exists beauty in this dying world."

As if on cue, Charr asked, "Where are we going, Lady Swan?"

"Eastward," she said. "Towards whatever destiny awaits me. I shall rise like the morning sun."