What do you get when two ruthless assassins raise their daughter travelling through the wildest reaches of Caido? Take one look at Theea and you'll get a pretty good idea. Cheerful and tenacious in equal measure, and curious beyond all else, she began her journey on a mission to find those her mother once called family. And find them she did, soon rubbing elbows with demigods, leaders and even ghosts from the past. Her determination is resolute, her thirst for knowledge unmatched. We can't wait to see where her next adventure takes her!
Congratulations, Theea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah felt like he was being ripped in two.
The compass vibrated in his hand. He held fast to the thick, dark, soaking wet fabric of Maea’s dress and held her against him—
Until he couldn’t.
Two bodies, wet to the bone with sea water, spat onto the ground. Noah groaned with pain, the sound deep and guttural and filling the air of the Court of Stars’ courtyard with his agony. His insides roiled and burned, his skin felt like it was peeling off of him. It hurt like hell.
The Sentinel rolled over, pain lashing through him sharper than the feeling of Maea’s dragon kick. He retched, bile rising from his stomach and burning his throat, covering the well-kept stone of the path to the fountain. Please don’t be dead he pleaded, vommitting again. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything as his body waged war on itself for his insane use of the compass.
Tears, white hot and stinging, clouded his vision. He tried to blink them back, but the world spun and blurred as he lifted his head, searching for the ancient—for his friend—
For the one he hoped he hadn’t murdered.
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
The world turned inside out. Sea and stone upended, folding in on itself, then folded her guts too so that when she was smacked into the pavement - oddly familiar, in a dreadful sort of deja vu - the contents of her stomach left her entirely.
Pain. Her body was screaming with agony, worse than the savaged shoulder should justify. Her head was splitting in two, a sensation of sliding apart so visceral she wondered if it had actually been cut apart; when she could think at all. Her thoughts were coming in and out, fading into a blackness that grew harder and harder to resist. Snippets of sensation slammed into her, then was gone; a gentle sigh of wind through palm leaves, splashing water, the sour stench of sick, someone nearby groaning in pain... Ah, she should help them. Should get up, only her body wasn't responding... at all.
A pool of blood was reforming on the ground beneath the wounded shoulder, trickling along the cracks in the paved courtyard. Despite the pain in mist-pale eyes, she was entirely still where she lay; like a broken doll, tossed around one time too many.
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah’s body screamed against itself. Every one of his nerves were lit with fire. His palms scraped against stone as he clawed toward Maea, her broken body and the pool of blood she lay in starting to come into shaky focus, blurred at the edges.
He couldn’t let it end like this. Not here, not after dragging her from the sea, not after realizing what she was. What he had done.
Noah tried to stand. His knees buckled, sending him crashing back down on hands and elbows, the stones etching new carvings into his skin that stung in the sea-salt air. The impact jarred his skull, black spots exploding behind his eyes like fireworks. His stomach twisted again, but he swallowed the burning bile back and dragged himself forward. His fingers closed around Maea’s wrist, the bones frail beneath cold skin.
He pulled her with him, body shuddering as though it might split apart, dragging her limp weight across stone toward the fountain’s edge. He thought of Cordelia—how he hadn’t been able to save her. He thought of all he had lost to dragons, and how, by some twisted design, Maea was one.
He couldn’t lose her too. Not like this.
With the last of his strength, Noah half-lifted, half-shoved her into the pool.
He collapsed against the rim, cheek smacking to the wet stone, with a solid crack that send his chest heaving and head spinning with pain. His fingers stayed tangled in her dress, refusing to release her. “Maea…please.” he whispered, voice cracked and small. Noah trembled, teetering on the edge of collapse.
He wished he could pull for the thread within him, to pull Vi’s power to renew the vigor and life within Maea, to sew skin and sinew back together. But it was gone. He knew it was gone, and for the first time since it happened, Noah wanted it back.
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
She left a smear of red behind. Against the perfect marble colonnades and the verdant garden surrounding the Court of Stars all that blood looked obscene. Was she making a scene again? How dramatic of her, to be so undone by what should be easily shrugged off. Just like how Thalassa nettled her into losing her head; she should have been able to swallow that hurt too. Shouldn't have spoken when she was angry, and shouldn't have gone off on her own once she realised that she lost more than a friend in the aftermath.
A whimper of agony broke her quiet. The pulling and tugging on her arm stopped, only to be replaced by a hauling that inflamed every hurt and bruised and fractured segment of her body. A nauseating swooping sensation made the world upend again - and water rose up to envelop her. Lukewarm and softer than any other, this too was eerily familiar. This tingle of the skin, this easing of pain and the pricking, tugging sensation of skin knitting itself back together. When she coughed from almost inhaling the water it was no longer a trigger to throw up again; she could breathe, unhindered by ribs that might as well never have been broken.
Clarity... took longer to return. Stirring slowly, the ancient untangled her limbs until she lay on her back in the fountain. Wheeling overhead, a cloud drifted across blue skies. It looked almost like a bird, if she squinted - like a griffin she'd once seen. Was it a long time ago, or just a moment? She couldn't tell.
Her head lolled sideways, following the path of rippling water from its cool kiss on her cheek to its origin. Near the rim, where someone lay slumped against the marble. Gold hair gleamed in the sunlight, sun-kissed and tousled; dazed, she reached out to touch it, wondering at the familiarity, trying to piece together bits of a puzzle that didn't yet make sense. Was this a dream? Was she seeing things?
"Li - am?" Maybe it was simply wishful thinking. She really missed him though; really wanted nothing more than to go home and never leave again.
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
His cheek was still pressed to the marble, his body throbbing with each shallow breath. His fingers, white-knuckled and shaking, remained knotted in Maea’s dress even as the fountain’s waters began to glow faintly against his skin, against the delicate translucence of the ancient in his grasp.
The sound came soft. A cough, then the delicate splash of limbs shifting in the water. Noah’s eyelashes fluttered open, his vision swaying, blurred by pain and exhaustion. But the touch of the fountain had broght him enough relief from the compass' affects to move. He climbed up from his kees and got himself into a sitting position on the side of the fountain, and he pulled Maea gently toward him, resting her against his leg. Her chest rose more steadily, her head turning. Relief slammed into him so hard it left him breathless, the pain in his ribs nearly buckling him all over again.
"Maea,” he croaked, voice raw, the single word breaking under the weight of everything behind it—fear, rage, grief, and the impossible swell of relief. His chest constricted. He should have corrected her immediately, should have shaken her gently back into the present, but instead he swallowed against the ache rising in his throat, forcing down the lump. He bowed his head, forehead pressing to the top of her head, trying to steady himself against the crashing tide of his own emotions. “You’re safe,” he whispered, voice steadier now though his body quaked, "and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you."
He just needed her to live. He knew that the fountain would do its work, but damnit if he still didn't try to pull on the thread of magic that was but a whisper of a memory within him now.
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
For a fleeting moment she really thought it was Liam. The way she was gathering up, held close, the gilded shade as a silhouette blotted out the sky - it was almost right. But the shape of her name from those lips was wrong, and the rasp of that voice was different. Not unfamiliar, but not right either.
Suddenly the point of connection against her scalp felt intrusive, the cradling arms like a trap she'd almost fallen into. Shoving herself out of the hold, Maea splashed back into the lower basin and sat up, unmoored and dizzy - betrayed by the absence of the one she actually wanted to be comforted by.
"Oh. It's you." The eyes that cleared upon the Sentinel held a flat expression, like the Halo tundra after a windstorm. Cool and cutting yet somehow brittle; the droplets falling from her soaked hair were pink, still seeping with blood.
Maybe she should be angry; but no anger came. Then, perhaps she should be remorseful? She had picked this fight, after all. Turned Lena's caution into a prophecy, and reduced the pleasure of the dragon's fierce strength into ashes on her tongue. Gazing at Noah's stricken expression... had her curling up in the fountain, knees hugged tight to the chest while water dribbled and splashed over the middle tier unto her shoulder. Healing it, erasing bruises and scars until no proof remained that anything ever happened.
Only they knew.
"It's alright. I started it. It's not your fault." Not the injury, or the fall or even this numb wasteland spreading through her chest. Tasting like shame, showing her a glimpse of what she'd truly done to Astaroth, smothering the flame of haughty overconfidence until only white ash remained. Gods, she couldn't breathe for the weight of it.
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah didn’t flinch when she slipped from his arms. He let her go as she shoved herself back into the fountain, her small form folding in on itself. There was no offense taken, no sting of rejection—only a bone-deep understanding. Gods, Noah wished it were Liam here instead, offering Maea the kind of comfort his scarred, weary hands couldn't.
He sat still like a statue, shoulders hunched. his body was slowly beginning to stop trembling from the travel aftershocks. The fountain was working on him just as it did her, slowly repositioning his equilibrium and returning him to a state of awareness. He just sat there, letting the water work its magic slowly and surely. All the while, he watched her with a heaviness in his chest that seemed to crush the air out of him.
The Sentinel's head shook slowly, damp strands clinging to his forehead, tinged slightly red from her blood and still wet from the sea rather than the fountain. “No,” he rasped, “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen you.” He didn't know how he was supposed to know, without her access to the attuned bond. All he had seen was a dragon, not his friend.
He dragged a hand down his face, water dripping from his beard. “When I saw that dragon, I didn’t see you. I saw every grave they left behind." He saw Weaver, he saw Cordelia, he saw the bodies and bones littered in the Cordillera. His eyes softened as he looked back at her, a pale shape against the rippling light of the fountain. “I thought I killed you.” he admitted, though he kept to himself the glory he had felt when he thought he had killed a dragon. He didn't share how deep the rage of her antagonizing, of her play, had been. How offended every cell and every fiber had been. How much he wanted to kill it.
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
With clarity came memory. With memory came emotion. Soon enough she quietly regretted rejecting the consolation Noah had been offering, once the after shock set in and only the thinnest veneer of composure held her rattling pieces together. The apologies he spilled offered no relief. Like small stones tossed against a window pane they only bruised, reaffirming drifting recollections so that she wasn't able to forget. Over and over they re-played through her mind. The screech of the griffin, her reckless approach, ignoring every sign that suggested it was not interested in playing the way she had wanted. Pay attention to your surroundings. "I should have left you alone." Should have listened better, kept her distance, not been there at all... Would not have engaged in the first place, if she'd known it was Noah.
She knew what he felt about dragons.
"Wars have been fought for less," she replied again, lethargic and with no conviction behind the reassurance. She understood him - had once thought the same way with far less justification - but it didn't make her feel better. All she felt was cold. Numb dread as the sensation of falling and the impact against rock replayed over and over again until bile in her throat. Needing to distract herself somehow, sharp teeth latched around a thin wrist, biting down until the pain scattered the truth like so many shards of broken glass.
"You nearly did." Tears stung the back of her eyes. For a moment she thought they would fall, waited for the reaction to wash over her; but it never came. It sank deeper instead. Settled like a snake around her spine, its fangs bared and dripping its poison into her veins. "I nearly let myself die." Nearly broke the only promise she would kill to keep, nearly ruined the life of the only person who mattered more to her than herself.
"Gods, I'm so out of control... it's not even funny."
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah’s chest tightened as her words settled over him, heavier than any sea storm, colder than the ice of Halo’s northern peaks. He remained on the fountain’s rim, body coiled like a spring, eyes fixed on her trembling form in the water. The small, sharp movements—hands clutching wrists, teeth biting skin—made his stomach turn, but not with disgust. With concern. A deep, gnawing concern he had never felt for another living thing.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for her, to wrap himself around her shoulders, but he stayed still, remembering the sudden shift, the way she had flung herself back from him. He couldn't force her to be comforted by him, he could only be what he thought was good. A Sentinel, standing firm against whatever storm that raged on. He didn't move.
Her words came over him like frost over the top of water, spiraling and hushed and yet clawing against him--clawing under her ribs, behind her eyes, under her skin. The fight, the fall, even the dragon—those were just the sparks. Something else smoldering in her, an unknown tempest.
Noah pressed his palms to the marble beside him, gripping the stone as if he could anchor himself to her reality without overstepping. He studied her closely, with soft glacier eyes. “This isn’t just about the fight. There’s more going on. I can--I am here, Maea." I'm your friend. He remembered the way she had sat next to him on the bank, in the warmth of her glass flowing furnace, and touched his hand. Shared in his grief, rested in the weight of it with him.
He stayed.
He did not reach for her yet. He waited, letting the silence hold, letting the weight of his concern be a quiet, unmovable presence. He would wait for her to let him in—or for the moment when she realized she didn’t have to fight everything on her own. He would wait for her like he had waited for Korbin, laying in the cold of the aviary, a silent and everprsent love bound by the chains of friendship.
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
Sensing the shift in his regard, she realized she was doing it again. Changing the narrative to revolve around her, when Noah was the one who needed to talk, and process, and be reassured. Yes, he'd nearly killed her, but he had also saved her life. Made the impossible happen by somehow bringing them here, to safety, half a world away. She should be the one to reassure him - but as usual she didn't know what to say.
There were bitemarks indented into the skin of the arm she extended towards him. Patting his arm awkwardly, she couldn't quite manage a smile, but did her best to actually meet his gaze. Her eyes remained flat, still distant - unreadable as sea fog - but at least she was listening. Moving. That was good, right?
"It's fine. I'll be alright. I don't blame you - I'm not mad." Not at him. The undercurrent of disgust was directed entirely at herself, who kept repeating the same mistakes without ever learning from them. Thalassa was right, and Asta was right, and Danta too; so many voices were saying the same things and it took having her head nearly split open for it to sink in.
"I need to go home." And she'd stay there. Would keep to her books and build on the house and stop pretending that she was capable of anything else. Next time she felt compelled to spar she would go to a training ground, or run a few times around the house, and then go back to the reading and the chores and stay within reach of Liam, who was far more adept at judging what a sane course of action would be.
Because all evidence pointed to her being unable to see that. She definitely had a screw loose somewhere; nothing else made sense at this point.
Which meant she had to get home where no one would get hurt by her. Which meant that she needed Noah to be okay. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" That should have been her first question. Fuck, what a selfish piece of shit she was. Gotta do better, girl. A whole lot better.
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah’s chest felt heavy as he listened, the weight of her words settling like stones in a riverbed. The echo of wings and roars still lingered in his mind—their griffin and dragon forms clashing. He could still feel the sting of her talons raking across his feathers, the flash of teeth too close, the cold plunge into air and chaos. It wasn’t anger that burned in him now, but sadness. Sadness that it had been his friend, that violence had been the only language between them in that moment. That there was now a chasm between them.
Her hand brushed against his arm, awkward, tentative, but real. Different than when they sat at the river’s edge together, his grief filling the space between them. His glacier eyes held hers, though her gaze was fogged. “No,” he said quietly, “You didn’t hurt me.” Not in the way she feared. What hurt was the memory of them locked in a battle neither of them had truly wanted.
Noah drew in a slow breath, steadying himself as his palms pressed into the cold marble beneath him. He had wanted to protect her. But now, looking at her trembling frame, he knew pressing her further would only deepen her wounds. She wanted to go home. Needed it. He understood that more than anything.
“If you’re ready, I’ll take you to the Skyport.” He said, offering it wondering, knowing, she wasn’t strong enough yet to shift and take black wings to the Greatwood. He wished Liam were here, to steady her in ways Noah could not. But he would do his best to make sure she was able to get to him.
Because sadness or not, Noah had learned: sometimes the truest act of friendship was letting go.
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
He was not hurt. That was good. At some later point in time she would remember that and be saved by it, by the knowledge that the only one wounded was her. And maybe some day she would be able to forgive herself, too, for putting her life at risk without need or reason; but not yet. Still raw, still bleeding from mental wounds the healing fountain couldn't reach, for the time being all Maea wanted was her home, her enchanted woods, and her partner's arms around her.
"Thank you," she mumbled, patting Noah's arm again with that same awkwardness. "We'll talk later. Yeah? Later." When she could view the day's catastrophe from a distance, and had a chance to process all the clashing emotions. Trying to do it now..m would not go well. She knew it, and he seemed to realize that too, and Maea was grateful to have a friend like that. Would be, at least, when she could feel anything properly again.
Sloshing about in the water in a battle against unresponsive limbs, it took her more effort than usual to get up. Gingery clambering over the rim, water splattered onto paved ground as she wrung out her hair, her dress, the dark red robe that kept her clothes from burning as she summoned fire and draped it around her shoulders like a blanket to dry. Even while looking every bit like a drenched kitten, Maea's spine remained straight, confidence in tatters but pride refusing to let it show. She simply waited until Noah got up, prepared to follow him towards the harbour. A cabin wouldn't be wrong right now; even if the ship didn't depart right away she'd be able to lie down, shut the world away, and maybe break down a bit.
"Hear one positive and one negative accounts of the Voice, Safrin, Ludo, or Frey from 8 different characters who have met them personally:
? I would like to Skip with MP"
we follow our own steps while our shadows keeps watching us
”Yeah.” Noah agreed, chest tightening. He watched as she got up and draped herself in fire. Only when the flames extinguished did he move.
He rose slowly, the fountain’s rim cold beneath his palms as he pushed himself to his feet. Unable to live in fire as she did, he was still wet where his body and clothes had come in contact with the icy cold water of the sea and the soothing waters of the fountain. He offered Maea his arm, not insistent, only there if she wished to take it.
The city around them stirred with its usual rhythms—merchants calling out, hels circling above, the briny tang of the sea carried on the wind. Noah hardly noticed. His attention stayed on her, on the determination in her steps annd the straightness of her spine. Every so often, he glanced sidelong, watching for a tremor, for a falter, ready to steady her without words.
The road to the Skyport sloped upward, its stones glinting faintly with sea spray. When the tower came into view, sails furled like white surrender flags, the attuned slowed near the edge of the platform, giving her space.
His glacier eyes held hers, steady, unwavering, even as sadness pulled at him. “Safe travels, Maea.”
FIN
the wrong steps would be not to start this exodus.
