"I am your mother now, kitten," she said richly. "I made this body, and I held your soul inside me when I took it from your Soultrap and placed it and your memories inside you. In a way, I bore you into this new life, and that makes you as much my son as you are Elke Kael's son. So when you call me Mother, I want you to know that that's how I will always feel when you say it. You are my son, and I love you. And I will always be here for you."

"I love you, Mother," he said simply smiling up at her, still holding onto her hand, swallowing it up in his huge paw. "And I can't think of any honor greater than you thinking of me as your son."

"You and me, we share a special bond, now, my kitten," she smiled. "You were once a god. For a moment, you were my equal. How does that make you feel?"

"It makes me glad that I can't remember it," he said honestly. "I don't think I have any business remembering what that was like, or you wouldn't have sealed away some of the memories I gained when I was turned."

"Such a wise kitten," she smiled. "Now then, let's get you dressed and let you get out there and keep everyone from going crazy with anticipation," she announced. "There are quite a few people who are very anxious to see you, my son. Let's not keep them waiting."

She pulled her hand free, still holding the shaeram, and then gently and meaningfully took hold of the chain. He bowed his head, and she slid it over his head, settled it around his neck, putting it back where it belonged. It felt immediately right for it to be there, and he reached up and touched it fondly with a single finger. She reached out, and his black-bladed sword appeared in her hands. She offered it to him, and he took it from her carefully, so as not to cut her by accident. In the instant of that touch he felt something… different about the blade. It seemed no different, but there was something lurking within it, something powerful, something that defied his ability to make sense of it. He looked to the Goddess sharply, and she only smiled.

"As it changed you, so it changed your sword," she told him. "You poured your power and awareness into it. When a god does that, the object is forever afterward different. It gains powers of its own, sometimes takes on its own mentality. That, my kitten, is how a god makes an artifact. Even though you're a mortal again, this sword is yours, and it won't let anyone else use it. It will always be there to help you when you need it, but remember, kitten, that it's as much an asset to you as it is your responsibility to keep it from doing harm."

Tarrin touched the blade of his prized sword reverently. An artifact. A unique weapon of great power, created by a god to perform a function or service. This sword had been created by him, probably to help him fight Val. And now it was his again, his prize, and also his responsibility.

Tarrin wondered absently why in the world he chose the sword. He was much more comfortable with a staff. Then again, like any smart warrior, he knew that there was a time to use a specific weapon. Maybe at that time, facing that enemy, he felt that the sword was the better choice.

He was wasting time. He wanted to see his mate and daughter, and make sure everyone knew he was alright. "Has Kimmie had her baby yet?" he asked as he got out of the bed. The Goddess made clothes appear in her hands, and he took a pair of leather trousers from her that were so soft they were like silk.

"She did," she answered as Tarrin put them on. "But I want that to be her surprise, not mine. So you'll just have to wait and see."

"Spoilsport," he teased as he took a supple vest from her and pulled it on. He pulled his braid out from under the vest, and realized quite suddenly that the braid was the only thing about him that was from the original him. Everything else was new, though it felt more and more after every passing second like it was the old him. Breaking in, the Goddess had called it. Well, he was doing that already.

"I would be for Kimmie if I told you," she responded. "Now come on, kitten. They're waiting for us."

Tarrin tamped his feet a few times, getting the very last of the tingling out of him, and then started towards the ornate iron gate. He remembered that gate well, for it had been the obstacle that allowed Tarrin to strike the first blow against Jegojah. Much of that fight had happened right here in this chamber. Alot of history here, he realized as the Goddess opened the gate, and he stepped through it, stepping into the long passage that led out into the Tower proper.

They got out into the circular passage surrounding the Heart, and Jenna jumped off of a chair and rushed towards him, tears flying from her eyes. She cried out his name, and he leaned down and let her jump into his arms. He held her close as she gripped him tightly, desperately, and he took in her scent with eyes closed and let himself revel in embracing his sister.

"I can't believe it!" Jenna said as she pushed away enough to put her hands on his face, relying on his hold on her to keep her from tumbling to the floor. Her feet were dangling more than two spans off the polished stone of the floor. "Mother said you were dead, but that she could-that you-oh, Tarrin! You're home!" she cried in joy, then hugged him again.

"Not quite home, but it's good to be back with you, Jenna," he told her gently, patting her on the back. "What happened after I left?"

"What do you remember?"

"Not much," he answered. "What happened at the battle?"

"Well, there really wasn't a battle," she laughed ruefully. "Right about when we really committed to it, you and Val started tearing the earth apart, and everyone had to run for their lives. Months of planning wasted. Kang and Darvon were very, very mad."

Tarrin laughed. "I guess they would be," he agreed. "What happened to the Goblinoids?"

"What few survived are probably still up there," she answered. "After you-well, after Val was destroyed, the gods brought us back here. We didn't have time to hunt down the survivors and finish them off. We wouldn't have even if we had time. Everyone was pretty much well stunned by what we saw."

"What did you see?"

"Let's just say that when you kill someone, brother, you really don't fool around," she told him with a slight smile. "Now then, I think Mother is about to scold me for holding us up here, so let's go see the others. They're all waiting in Jesmind's apartment."

Tarrin set Jenna down, and after the Goddess waved them onward impatiently. They walked behind her, and Tarrin reflected on what the Goddess had told him in the Chamber of the Heart. He guessed she was right. An event like the one he had come through couldn't help but change him. But he didn't feel any different, and from the way she talked, the change in him would be one that would matter only to someone like Phandebrass, someone nitpickingly precise. He may have been a god, but that had only been for a couple of moments, and thankfully it was over. The god Tarrin had destroyed himself, and the mortal Tarrin had managed to scrape out his own survival with yet another wild, half-formed plan that somehow seemed to work. They were two different people as far as he was concerned, and hopefully, none of that other stuff that the Goddess mentioned would happen. After all, it was now over. Val was dead, the day of the Firestaff's activation had come and gone, and he no longer had any need of power or position. He had braved the rapids for two years, and now it was time to float on the gentle currents in the wide pool at the bottom of those rapids. There may be rapid further down the river that was his life's course, but for now, he would enjoy the peace and quiet of being done.

The suffering was over. Now, the living began.

Sorcerers stopped in their tracks and gaped at the tall, tall Were-cat as he passed, looking like they'd seen a ghost. Servants and guards melted out of the way of the Goddess, looking pale and nervous. They probably knew that a god was going by, and nobody could look at her and not be utterly awed. Tarrin ignored them, keeping a gentle hold on Jenna's hand, just happy that he'd been given a second chance. He couldn't remember being dead, and for some reason he was glad of that. It was best if he never knew what that was like, better to only know of what was before him. That was why he was glad he had no memory of being a god. That way there was no grounds for comparison, no knowledge of anything except what he had, what he was, and all the joys and hardships that went along with it. It was the bliss of ignorance, and it was an ignorance that he embraced willingly. He wanted nothing detracting from the experiences of this life, his life. He wanted no veil of regret distorting things as he watched his daughter grow up, as he spent all the time with Jesmind that he could before time and their Were natures pushed them apart. He wanted to enjoy it for all it was worth, never knowing if other states of being he had experienced were actually better than what he had. Being happy with the simple pleasures and trials of being a mortal. To him, grounded in the Were instincts of celebrating life, there could be nothing better. The same qualities that had made him the best mortal suited for defending the Firestaff were the qualities that made him reject the memory of what he had once been, made him blissfully content to return to a simple life of uncomplicated happiness.