After a lengthy trial of tribulations, we had finally made it: before us there were the grand marble colums, gracefully curving tile roofs, and red-glazed windows of Simidatu. Despite the many difficulties of the path, we had reached the great sanctuary of the Promised Brethren. Sage Gyon would finally acquire the necessary knowledge, and our quest would be complete.

The temple seemed quite different from the fae strongholds we had visited before. It did not feature strong walls, feral beasts, or watchful defenders; there were many open archways and colonnades, with no armed guard in sight. When we walked down the yellow-flagstone path to the main entrance, we saw two humanoids standing on either side. They were gaian in appearance, but they did not greet us in a friendly way; they simply observed us, and did not give any hint of a reaction. We were confused, for they did not look like guards: they bore no weapons, and were dressed in plain white cloth.

But then one spoke to us and bade us in, and we were offered shelter and food in the serene halls of Simidatu. Though we were all excited to speak with the Brethren, we were told we had to wait, so we spent some days in the halls, reading ancient tomes and exploring the sanctified buildings. The silent, white-dressed watchers were everywhere, but they very quickly escaped my notice; they seemed like little more than servants.

On the third day, I happened upon one of the temple’s gardens. I was amazed by its form and its beauty; a tasteful stream splashed down from a high rock into a pond and then lazily wound through the grass, while light pink rose bushes and other growth expertly hid the surrounding buildings from sight. While I was wiling in this garden, enjoying the meditative sounds of water and sweet scent in the air, I realized I was no longer alone. A woman was sitting in the grass nearby, looking at me with a friendly smile.

I saw from her appearance and her dress that she was one of the temple’s attendants. But then I noticed just how beautiful she was. Straight black hair and scintillating eyes in which I could lose myself, and a tender, even skin that outdid even the most beautiful dames. Even though she wore only simple white cloth, there was no need for any more apparel; her natural beauty simply sufficed.

- “Hello, Engerrand. I heard you have a long path behind you, and I am happy you found the respite of our sanctuary.”

She came closer and sat down at my side, so that our bodies touched and I felt her soft, warm skin against mine. It was a magical moment: us two, sitting in an enchanted garden, enjoying the natural beauty of the world. In that moment, it became clear to me that she was a perfect creation, just as much a part of the environment as the roses and the stream; she was an angel, a servant of the heavens.

I spoke to her of the tribulations we had faced, and of the hopes we had for the future. She listened well, knew how to comfort me, and was even quite knowledgeable in philosophical questions many others would have had difficulty answering. While we talked and reflected, I came to realize just how fortunate she was. To be given the gift of immortality, of celestial existence, by the Promised Brethren was a great honor.

- “My lady, you are truly a beauty”, I told her. “I cannot express in words how much I admire the awesome gift you have received, and how much I respect that you were allowed to serve the Promised Brethren in eternity. Tell me: how is it to be immortal? Did you ascend to a new level of consciousness, or are you a distilled, more pure version of your mortal self?”

She did not immediately answer my query. For a moment, I thought there was a hint of sadness in her face, and the scent of roses seemed overly sweet and bitter. But a light breeze carried the smell away, and she faced me, a smile on her perfect face. - “Oh, Sir Engerrand. The world is vast, and you have yet seen very little of it. Believe me, there is still much to learn.” I admired her beautiful face, saw her perfect lips, felt her warm breath on my face. Her tender skin below my fingers, her soft but firm flesh. We kissed, and I looked into her deep black eyes, trying to find the glint of pleasure – or any sign of life – in them. But as I stared, the more I tried to understand the vastness of her eyes, the more I was drawn in. I realized there was only darkness there, a deep, deep black. It was empty, and cold, and so, so, vast. “I might be an angel, but I do not feel joy. I might have great glory, but I do not feel any of it. I have no pride, no pleasure, no lust. Do you know what it means to be immortal? I am not ascended, and I am not the same as I was before. In me, there is nothing. Sadness. Pain. An eternity of sadness, so that I might suffer for eternity.”

I felt a shiver down my back. It was still the same face, but I could no longer bring myself to look into her eyes. Those deep, dark pits, I feared they would draw me into the eternal embrace of nothingness. For an instant in time, it seemed that the garden had gone dark, and I caught a glimpse of a shadow, a face of light screaming in pain, below her skin.

Then she drew away from me. She smiled, wiped a black tear from her left eye. Then she stood and disappeared between the rose bushes.