Pantheon

Ylt

Envah.

Thess stumbles back away from Moanuni and hits the wall, sliding down until they're sitting on the ground and curling their knees up to their chest. The world is spinning and tilting around them. Their breath is steaming out in front of them, like a forge, a steampipe, and the painfully white sky is too, too bright. They clench their arms around themself, shuddering.

Envah.

Their mind is full of thoughts, all racing, going nowhere. Temple – Ylt – sky – hurts – Radiya – goddess – Moanuni – h-hurts – ice – sun – sky –

They can't breathe. Their lungs are full of tiny tiny ice needles.

It's like vertigo all over again.

Envah. Envah. Envah Envah Envah Envah Envah Env

"Thess." Something blocks out the sun. "Thess, Thess, Thess." Something's warm on their face.

Thess blinks and gasps. Both those things are Moanuni.

"You back?" says the goddess softly, and takes her hands off Thess's face.

Thess lets out a soft sound. Something like hhhhhhhhhhh.

"Yeah, I bet. Come on, you can get up. Gravity's not too different here." She pulls Thess up, holding them securely by the forearms. Like she's comforting them, or scared they might bolt.

"So, Thess," says Moanuni, once they've steadied themself. "Now what?"

And Thess's brain seizes, and they curl into themself, and let out an involuntary sob they don't know they've made until Moanuni is holding them against herself and making soft shooshing noises. "I know, I know. It's okay. Take your time. When you're ready. You wanna go home?"

And then of course that sets off another blizzard of questions and unknowns and little thought explosions and Thess cries because no, yes, of course, please, that's all I want, but that's not home, it wasn't ever, but Shyrn's not home, it can't be, but what's home, but what is home, but what is your home, but have I ever felt a home, but, but.

They can't. They really can't. They don't know what that even is.

"I w-want – " they finally croak out, because their breath is still pluming like an underwater volcano in front of them, and their tears are freezing cold on their face, and they've never been this cold never never never not even when they locked themself in the cryostorage freezer for ten minutes when they were seven, "t-to get w-warm. It's c-cold."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, it would be. Well...I bet you know all about Ylt. Where are we headed?"

"C-center." This much, at least, they know. They've studied the Realms since they could understand a universe beyond the temple. The warmest places on Ylt are always in the very center of one of its dense cities.

All roads lead to the center, of course, because everyone in this circular city is going to the warmth. They plunge on through the crowds, all too aware of their painfully thin jacket but intent on doing something right this time. They don't notice they've nearly lost Moanuni until a wide, fur-swathed figure bumps into them and spins them around.

"Moanuni?" All it gets them is a few weird looks. Oh goddess, they probably shouldn't be yelling one of the goddesses' names in the middle of the street like a little lost child. Thess spins in place, looking around despe – oh!

Oh, there she is, not far at all, speaking intently with an old woman nearly spherical with layers. Thess rushes over.

"Aye, went down not three days ago," the woman is saying, grave Yltish monotone dragging at her words. "Greatwardens have no ideas. We've only months of food stored, and weeks of whelkanon oil to burn, so they say."

"What's going on?" asks Thess.

"Central heat's gone down," Moanuni replies, brisk. "Shut off. Won't turn back on."

Oh. Oh no.

Oh goddess they're going to die in the cold in this cold frozen city their fingers will turn to blue and then to bone one by one and snap off like carrots and then their limbs and then their brain will freeze solid and –

Moanuni's hand is warm on their face again. "Hey," she says, "hey, hey. It's not your fault. It's alright. Let's get out of – "

" – here," she finishes on Inder.

They're gone too fast to hear the distant roaring from the center of the city, feel the mile-thick ice rumble underfoot as steam begins to pour again through the city furnace's vents.