#another drabble dashed off before it fades away

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

The souls of Cognouza have one final message as they drift off into the forever that has been denied them for centuries. 

Thank you.

Thank you.

A tumult of them, shooting out and away from the sparks of the living, the ones who freed them.

Somewhere, the spark of the lavender-skinned tiefling with many names and identities is among them. The body is sundered, damaged, hacked to pieces by those who now gather around it.

Molly. Mollymauk Tealeaf.

The cry comes from the living, a powerful one that causes the fleeing sparks to heed and hold. Is that their name? No, whisper most of them, shooting onwards.

Molly. The cry comes again. Three, four times, each time with increasing magic behind us. Our friend. Come back.

One spark hesitates. Pulled both forward and back. Molly, part of it recognizes. Lucien, the Nonagon, the other part insists. And so it is not enough for the fragment to return, despite the strength of the cries.

Then, another whisper. Put it back. A divine breeze creates a space; a divine wave pushes one part away while it washes the other back towards Cognouza. The body is healed, whole, ready to be inhabited.

And opens its eyes for the first time.