My brother and sister are long since gone, abandoning the Dasaroi to their new mortality, fleeing the consequences of the Fall.
I could not leave them.
Our people. Our firstborn children. Even with these atrocities... how can we not love our children? And do they not need us more now than ever?
I have watched their memories fade - their last blessing from my sister. They know that they have lost their immortality, most of their power... they know that they have lost their gods and their grace. They do not know how. They do not know what they have done. They never will.
I have watched them forget me.
I will join my brother and sister soon. I have held the child who will become the second Lishaya; I have kissed her brow and gifted her with just a little bit of memory, just enough so one day she'll know. One day, when she is ready. When they are all ready. One gift against need, against another Fall.
I kneel in the center of the grove; I kneel where Tiala, firstborn of the firstborn, was born, and where she died. I place a small stone on the ground, press it in with both hands, closing my eyes. "This is home," I whisper, power filling my voice, thrumming in my bones. "Always come home."
My words flow through the tightly-woven tapestry of time, from now til the end of the world - my words, my wish, my sorrow, my love. I know that my sister will never return here, and that my brother will return only twice in all of time. I know that I will never be far from here for long.