“...right. I do understand. You one spoke about your clan. How your only purpose to leave it had to do with finding your younger sister.” Perhaps if Sigrid had been sober, she would have clued in much faster that she was not the only one suffering from some acute loss of identity. Bronwyn had said this all before… hadn’t she been listening? How selfish was she, to mope about like she was the only one with problems? The only one who had lost someone dear to them? Bronwyn did not deserve to take the brunt of this. Not when she, too, needed a friend.
“You think it would be so bad to try to become something with your brother? I mean, I won’t pretend he doesn’t have his issues, but… when it comes down to it, he’s not a bad person.” The former Dawn warrior mentioned as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. “He looks out for his own. But, if it is structure and vision you are looking for… then the Dawn Guard is what you are looking for. They will give you an identity within their structure. They’ll give you purpose, but it will be aligned with their vision. If you’re lost… they’ll show you a path. Unfortunately, I’m no longer able to follow that path, so…”
She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. Things had changed for her: since Gaolithe, since Naimah… she wasn’t the same person she had been before meeting Alster and his comrades and friends. Going back to the Dawn Guard now would be like forcing a warped peg into a pristine hole that couldn’t accommodate its shifted structure. As much as she missed her ‘family’ among the Dawn Guard… somehow, deep in her bones, she felt it just wasn’t possible anymore. “I… don’t think I can return to the Dawn Guard. But I don’t think I can leave this kingdom, either; I feel I wouldn’t truly find purpose wandering aimlessly. And the last time I thought it was a good idea, a witch enslaved my mind, and I lost months of my life.
“So, what I mean to say is… I… do understand, Bronwyn. What you’re going through. I’m sorry if I have been so selfish; I am still figuring out how to orient myself, I guess.” She felt the need to apologize, if for no other reason that wallowing in her own self pity had blinded her to the suffering of others; of friends, who still needed her. “But if it means anything… I don’t think I’m going anywhere, anytime soon. And if the Dawn Guard is what you want, then I will be your in.”
“Well… different people have claimed different things. I’ve never witnessed any of it myself, but…” Young Locque peered into the lazy stream. Alster and Elespeth’s reflection bubbled over the rocks; hers did not, for she did not have one. Nor did she cast any shadow, despite being able to interact with the material world, but she did not appear to notice. “Some people have claimed to see themselves in the water, but their reflections aren’t mirroring them. Like they are looking at someone else who just happens to look exactly like them. Or, they will visit the stream, and in the night, will have very vivid dreams of worlds that are similar to their own, but not quite the same. Galeyn is divided on whether this stream is either blessed or cursed, but to my knowledge, I have never heard it to be dangerous, but…”
As Alster went on to explain, the young Gardener’s brow creased with concern at the possibility that their friend might not be their friend at all… and that this stream, and one of those leaves, was somehow responsible. “That…. Well, that does sound concerning. Although I have never heard of anyone, a Gardener or otherwise, switching places with someone from… another world, per se. I’ve never heard of such magic existing in Galeyn. But, if it were possible anywhere…” She raised her hands and gestured to indicate their surroundings, “it would be here. In the Night Garden.”
When the Rigas mage asked her opinion on the leaves she’d collected, however, her expression fell as an obvious look of regret crossed her features. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you,” she mentioned apologetically. “Because each of those leaves has meant something different for different people, different situations… whatever your friend sought help for, the Night Garden decided what they needed most at the time. But if you believe that what resulted has endangered the life of your other friend, then please, bring the person in question back here. I’m confident that if the Night Garden is the cause of this chaos… then it can reverse it.”
Meanwhile, as this entire event unfolded, Elespeth remained completely bewildered and silently took in the most confusing exchanges of her life. Alster acted as though he knew this young Gardener, yet she appeared entirely unfamiliar with him. She looked forward to the explanation he offered after they ended up with little to no new information. “So… so you’re telling me that young girl we were talking to is the same witch that devastated this kingdom? And this… isn’t the first time you’ve encountered her? She didn’t seem to know who you were…” Of course, a part of Elespeth was frustrated that this was yet another detail her husband had chosen to keep from her, but she knew she couldn’t blame him; had she encountered the mysterious ghost of Locque, it was unlikely she’d feel comfortable divulging that information, no matter how much she trusted them. “You’re right; it is hard to believe. But you have no reason to fabricate such a fantastic tale that would in no way benefit you, and… and there was something about that girl. She had no reflection…” Because she is dead, that eerie voice of reason filled in the blanks. A shudder ran through the former knight at the very idea that she had just encountered a ghost.
Whatever was going on, Alster seemed to have a greater grasp on it than she did. Elespeth stood aside as her husband lapsed into a meditative state, waiting patiently for him to delve somewhere into realms of magic where she could not go in order to glean answers they desperately needed. “...who? Who is gone, Alster?” She asked with trepidation when at last he opened his eyes. “Listen, whatever you think Tivia did… she’s far more capable than any of us. Are you sure you can do this safely? What if…” The former Atvanian gripped his shoulders and gnawed on her lower lip worriedly. “Whatever happened to Nia… I want to help her--I do. And Ari. But not at the price of you. That is selfish, I realize, but I want you to be safe, Alster.”
Isidor, meanwhile, miraculously managed to hold down the situation in the D’Marian settlement… or, at least, he’d thought so. He’d humoured the distraught Nia for well over an hour, until she fell asleep again, at which point he decided to watch over her from a chair across the room. He hadn’t intended to sleep; he wasn’t tired. But at some point, he must have closed his eyes… and when he opened them again, Nia was gone.
“Shit… shit! You had one job, Isidor, one job!” The Master Alchemist cursed at himself as he sprung to his feet, and out the door, and peered down the expansive corridors. Where had she gone? There was one obvious answer that he truly did not want to acknowledge, but knew deep down that it was right. “Fuck… oh, fuck, has she--”
No sooner did the exhausted man turn a corner that he came face to face with his charge: wild-eyed and full of dismay. “Something’s wrong. Isidor, something… y-you need to come see Ari.” Nia seized him by the shoulders. “The curse--I touched Ari just briefly, I was going to return to bed with him, and I could tell… his physiology has returned to the way it was before. He’s afflicted with his curse all over again, l-like we never did anything to begin with! I don’t know how this is possible… I don’t understand.” Tears welled in the distraught woman’s eyes, and she pressed her forehead against Isidor’s shoulder for the second time that evening.
“N-Nia, just… relax. I am sure all will be well…” How the hell did he lie his way out of this one?! Luck must have been on his side, for it was around that moment that the resonance stone in his pocket buzzed. Isidor gently dislodged Nia enough to reach for the stone, offering her a placating. “This is Alster right now. Let’s speak to him. If anyone has answers about impossible things, he is the one to ask.”
This seemed to mollify Nia enough that she stepped back to allow her friend (at least, she seemed to think of him as one) to bring the stone to his ear and listen. There was enough distance between himself and the Ardane woman, and the sound from the resonance stone was directly only toward his ear, so unless she was up in his personal space, Alster’s words wouldn’t have come across as more than white noise to her. “Alster. You have impeccable timing. Nia, here, is… very concerned.” He spoke slow and purposeful, indicating that right now was not the time to discuss portals when they had some major damage control on their hands. “She says that Ari is still afflicted with his curse… despite that she has already dispelled it. Perhaps you can come to the D’Marian settlement and help us elucidate this strange situation?” In so many words, Isidor was begging Alster not to make him deal with Nia’s confusion all on his own, especially if it put Ari at risk of finding out something was very off with the woman he loved.
Pretending like she knew exactly what was going on wasn’t difficult--well, not once Galena left, at least. It was when she was alone with Ari that Nia was the most at ease, and despite that she couldn’t fathom exactly how he had been cured of his curse (and she had somehow been involved in it), this was still Ari, and it was impossible not to bask in joy and relief that the man she loved was strong and healthy, with so many more years ahead of him. No, it wasn’t at all difficult to be happy, because she was happy; what was difficult was maintaining her surprise whenever he opened his mouth and divulged yet another revelation that had been completely beyond her knowledge or understanding. It was easy enough to smile and not at Galena’s determination to get one up on her and finally fool her into what kind of tea she was drinking, but when Ari made mention of how much this kingdom loved her, and how she had somehow been instrumental in taking down Locque, it required every ounce of careful self-awareness not to let her jaw drop. The hell…? Is he talking about the same kingdom that wanted me dead, not too long ago?
“I guess… it’s still hard to consider myself a hero, in any sense of the word.” The Master Alchemist carefully confessed, trying her damndest not to rouse any suspicion that would otherwise interrupt this beautiful moment. “I mean, if you want a big wedding in front of the whole kingdom, of course I’ll do it. I guess I’m just… a little bit jealous. I mean, you’ve got such a strong public presence, and you have to be there for your people, as well as Queen Lilica’s so that Galeynians and D’Marians don’t fall into an ‘us and them’ mentality… I guess part of me just wants you all to myself for such a special event.” She grinned and gave his hands a squeeze, no longer afraid of squeezing too hard and inducing a flare up. “But, we do have quite a few friends who I feel would be pretty slightest if we didn’t let them in on the fun… so, you’re right. We’ll make it kingdom-wide and as grand as you want.”
So, the kingdom loved her… and that wasn’t even the biggest surprise. No, Ari had far more forbidden knowledge that would take her off guard if she didn’t steel herself--and that next bit of information beyond her wildest dreams concerned Osric. “...Osric?” Don’t lose your cool… don’t let on. Nia managed not to flinch, but she wasn’t sure about how well she managed to keep the colour in her face from flooding or fading.”He’s… Osric has invited us for dinner?”
Nia took the proffered letter from Ari, and it was impossible to keep her hand from trembling as she read the words. Osric is alive. “Huh…” Osric and his family are alive. “It appears, so he does. Well… of course we have to go! You think I’m going to pass up the opportunity to have one of those pies? Just try to stop me from eating one in its entirety. Give me ten minutes to scrub this make-up off my face and get into something a little more casual, and let’s go on that walk. We can up the ante as you get more comfortable with… well, with the rest of your damn life. You can do anything, Ari--anything, you hear?”
The Ardane woman pulled him into one more kiss, before he left her to prepare for their walk and dinner with someone she hadn’t seen alive in what felt like ages. And that last thing that Ari had mentioned… “...Hadwin.” Nia exhaled a shaky breath. Osric was alive, but Hadwin… Hadwin was dead. Just when she thought the universe had suddenly rearranged itself for her, she stumbled upon the hard realization that there was no such thing as a perfect life. This afternoon she had literally woken up to everything she’d ever wanted: acceptance, love, everyone she cared for in her life happy and healthy… but not Hadwin. There is always a price. But why… why Hadwin? What happened?
The worst part was, she couldn’t ask; not without rousing suspicion or concern. The questions bit at her like gnats from the inside out after she’d finished washing up and putting on something more comfortable. There was far more variety in her closet than she remembered; her wardrobe had expanded from approximately four outfits to at least a dozen, and the one she chose--a breezy, summer gown of pale blue--was unfamiliar to her. But none of these small details resonated with her as much as the news of Osric… and Hadwin.
“Oh… my leg?” The Master Alchemist was only half paying attention when Ari mentioned her scar with concern. A scar she had earned from the son of a dead pub proprietor… who was no longer dead. Did that mean, somehow, by some means, she had never gotten injured? Except… the scar was proof. It was still there. So what was she supposed to tell him? “I’ve had that for a while, Ari; you’re only just noticing it now? Relax, it’s old news.” Instead of trying to fabricate an even more elaborate lie that would only trip her up down the road with details she’d forgotten, Nia opted to change the subject. “Ten minutes. I’ll be all ready and we’ll walk wherever the heck you want; sound good?”
That ten minutes was spent in a state of fugue as she chose something different to wear and clean her face of residual make-up. The fugue lasted, surrounding her head like a cloud, even after she and Ari departed for a leisurely walk. Everything, while familiar, also felt so… alien. It hardly registered with her that people offered smiles in her direction when they passed her. Or that the D’Marian settlement seemed much more settled than she remembered. Whatever remnants of conflict existed between the D’Marians and Galeynians… was gone. And significant as that was, it hardly registered. All she could think about was--
“...Osric.” No sooner did they step up to an all too familiar pub that a friendly face she never thought she’d see again opened the door and greeted them. The older gentleman and proprietor of the establishment she loved so much stood in the open doorway, looking no worse for the wear that she ever remembered. His kind wife stood behind him, all smiles. The smells wafting out of that open door stirred more emotions in her than she had been prepared to deal with. All of this exceeded whatever preparations she possibly could have made.
“Ah, Miss Nia! Lord Canaveris! Welcome! I was hopin’ you’d take me up on my offer for dinner.” The large man beamed, arms spread in welcome. “Now, I won’t pretend it’s gonna be anything near as fancy as what you’re used to, but the boysenberry pie is just about to go into the oven. New recipe; thought you might like to taste it first before we put it on the menu for other customers.”
Nia’s mouth felt dry; all she could do was smile and nod. How is this real? How is this happening? “You think there was even a chance I’d turn up the chance for some pie?” She managed at last, with a wide grin. “What else have you got cooking in there?”
Osric invited Ari and his fiancee inside, and Nia had no time nor room for uncertainty, lest she upset their generous host. Everything was exactly as she remembered it; no signs of trauma or pain or loss. It was like stepping into the past, before everything had gone so wrong… except, Ari was here with her. The best parts of her past and future in Galeyn had come together, it felt too good to be true… yet, here she was.
“Miss Nia,” Osric’s sweet wife addressed her as they all sat down. “I apologize if this comes across as… untoward. And please feel free to decline, but I was hoping, that when you and Lord Canaveris decide to plan your wedding, you’d consider letting us prepare your cake. I’ve been a baker for over thirty years, you know… I could make anything you want. I think by now I know your tastes pretty well.”
“Our… wedding.” A wedding resulting from a proposal that she didn’t remember. Catered by people who should be… dead. This was at once everything Nia could have wanted, and utterly terrifying to her, knowing it was impossible. “Yeah. A wedding does need a cake, right? And I mean, I can’t think of anyone more capable than the person who makes my favourite pies, right? I think we can take that request into careful consideration, right, Ari?” She nudged her lover--her fiance--playfully and grinned. “I can’t think of anything more… more perfect, can you?” Not since Hadwin is gone--that’s for sure.
“Will you excuse me for just a minute? Don’t eat all that pie without me!” Still maintaining that beaming smile, Nia stood and stepped outside the door back into the sunlight… and she let the tears flow. They trickled ceaselessly from her eyes like uncontrollable flowing streams, and no matter how many times she wiped them dry on her sleeve, there were more. Everything she could have dreamed of--well, almost--was simply arranged before her like a perfect gift to unwrap, and the worst part about it wasn’t that she didn’t understand how or why… but because she didn’t know how to feel.
“I do! …I did,” Bronwyn said at Sigrid’s mention of her brother, equal turns eager and defeated. “As I said, he won’t let me. He has Teselin and it’s already difficult being in the same vicinity as her. But it’s not only that. I sense that he loves me, but I still can’t help but notice that he’s holding me at arm’s length. I don’t know if it’s because he harbors unresolved issues over our sister or if it’s something else, but it’s almost as if he’s given up on a lot of his life in favor of assisting the summoner with hers. In other words…he might be pulling a ‘me.’” In spite of herself and her monstrous headache, she smiled. “Defining himself by her company. He’s clinging to her hard, and I get it. I understand. It’s how he’s coping with tragedy, but his coping mechanisms have no room for me. So why should I sit here and wait for things to change between us? I might as well take a page from his book and throw myself headlong into a purpose.”
Bronwyn watched, baffled, as Sigrid came out and profusely apologized for discussing her hang-ups and shortcomings as if doing so was considered the biggest imposition in the world. Again, Bronwyn couldn’t help but crack a smile. It wasn’t lost on her, how they seemed to have reversed roles. “I’m usually the one who won’t shut up about my troubles, Sigrid, so really, I’m not inconvenienced by you at all. I only brought up my own experiences in an attempt to relate to your own. To let you know that you’re not alone in feeling this way and that you have an ally…however useful an ally I am remains to be seen. It’s not like I have any influence. …Not even in my clan.” She took another sip of water to disguise the sagging of her mouth into a wistful frown. As it stood, she wasn’t even as strong or skillful as Sigrid. In exchange, what did she have to give in return for their friendship? So far, Bronwyn did little else but benefit from Sigrid’s connections, taking and taking, but not reciprocating. How was that a fair trade? At this stage, what use could she possibly have as a friend other than as someone’s pet, or a workhorse who excelled at menial labor and nothing else? And now, when she tried to be the one to uplift and comfort Sigrid, she failed…and then went and got herself sick, to boot!
“I really should be the one thanking you.” Finishing the contents of her cup, she cradled it in between her fingers, hesitant to ask for a refill. “For putting up with me. Here you have much bigger problems and here I’m always getting in your way. If I’m too annoying or clingy…it’s fine to tell me so.” Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she couldn’t help but notice how Sigrid didn’t seem keen on affirming their status as friends, as if the ex-Dawn warrior didn’t think they were—and Bronwyn was too stricken with pain to search for the answers via her Sight. She’s just being polite.“Despite how I behave sometimes, I have a thick skin. I won’t be offended. At any rate,” she sank into the pillows, lifting her gaze towards the ceiling, “I appreciate that you’re vouching for me. Let me know when we can meet your commander. I only wish I could pay you back for all your kindnesses. …Maybe one day.” Stretching out one arm, she deposited the empty cup on her bed, a few errant droplets spelling out of the vessel and spot-dampening the sheets. “I think I’ll be fine tonight, if you want to return to your room. I don’t want to keep you from your own recovery.” She gestured to the half-full water pitcher on the counter. “Please have some before you go. That was the whole point of your coming inside, was it not?” Aren’t I an idiot for reading what isn’t there? She closed her eyes, half expecting Sigrid to have already left the room. So desperate for companionship that I’m forcing myself on someone who wants nothing to do with me. Only those who have value keep friends. I should know better by now…
After unveiling everything he had gleaned about Nia’s strange, Night Garden-induced disappearance, he almost missed the context behind Isidor’s wildly different response. Nia, here is…very concerned. A cold sweat formed on the back of Alster’s neck. What had she learned?! Did Ari know? Had they touched, and had she, and had he, discovered something very wrong about their partner?
As Isidor filled him in, Alster was somewhat relieved to hear that only Nia had detected the “resurgence” of Ari’s curse, but that Ari hadn’t detected his partner’s odd behavior, presumably because he hadn’t stirred awake from her touch. Isidor’s news was bad, but not catastrophic. Not yet.
“I understand,” he responded, carefully tucking the indigo-colored leaves into his front pocket for safekeeping. There wouldn’t be time to undergo any trial and error and portal opening attempts at the moment. “I’m more than happy to return to the settlement.” The undercurrents of desperation hiding in Isidor’s strained tones were too pressing to ignore. Even though it wasn’t dire, the situation was no less an emergency that, if not quelled early on, could very well involve Ari. Nia wasn’t the type of person to carry a soft tongue. If she hadn’t awakened half of the Canaveris villa by now, surely she would. “I’ll be there. Give me a moment.”
Sighing aloud at the newest bout of ongoing madness, Alster turned to Elespeth. “Isidor wants me to return to the villa. Nia found out about Ari’s curse and it sounds like she believes he’s had a relapse. I don’t know how, but…I’m going to try and mitigate some of the damage. I expect it’s going to be like this for the remainder of tonight. I…” opening one of Elespeth’s clenched hands, he pressed the seed, their seed, upon her palm. “Hold on to this for now. We’ll plant it together when everything else blows over. …Never a dull moment, huh?” He gave a wan, unconvincing smile. “You might as well retire to bed, El. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
With one last good night kiss, Alster opened not a portal to another world, but to the next village over, and stepped through the bent air, returning to the grounds of the Canaveris villa. As before, Isidor granted him passage inside, and as before, he entered the chamber where Nia was presently residing. Unsurprisingly, the Ardane Master Alchemist was pacing the floor, teary-eyed and several steps removed from disconsolate. He listened to her shaken recount of how she touched Ari, only to find that everything they’d done to nullify his curse had strangely become undone. Alster bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. Before he could think it through, he rested a hand upon Nia’s shoulder as if to comfort her. Chthonic miasma erupted through his palm just then, enveloping her until her knees weakened and she collapsed against him, unconscious. With Isidor’s aid, they hauled her up on the bed and rolled her sprawled out form to the side, resting her in a comfortable sleeping position.
“Forgetfulness tablets,” he blurted, rounding on Isidor. “Do you have any left? If we dissolve one in her mouth, she’ll have no memory of what happened this last hour. If they’re in your room at the palace, I’ll go and fetch them. I’m…sorry,” he added, his face fraught with tired lines and beads of perspiration. “I panicked. This was the first thing I thought to do. But we can’t keep doing this to her every time she stumbles upon something we don’t want her to know. If it happens again…we might have little choice but to tell her.”
Similar to Nia, Ari was well-versed in pretending nothing was amiss. “Ah, yes. I must have overlooked it.” He removed his hand from her leg and straightened out of the bed to grant the privacy owed to her. All the while, he thought about her too-casual reply and sudden shift in topic, a diversionary tactic she employed whenever she felt bothered by something in particular. Having drawn and painted her numerous times, Ari knew her body down to every crevice, divot, and scar. Whatever the origins of this very recent addition to her leg, she wasn’t keen on sharing the story. It gave him pause for concern. What else did she potentially sacrifice during the curse-lifting procedure that saved his life? First her memory, and now she was accumulating random scarring on her body?
Nia’s strange behavior persisted even after they left the villa grounds for their afternoon stroll. Arm in arm they wandered down stairway alcoves and past fountain-marked squares, with him gaily chatting about this and that while she…nodded along and gave monosyllabic answers to detailed questions he’d posed. When they encountered a few of Nia’s friends, she acted stilted around them, as if she had never made their acquaintance at all. She spent the remainder of their walk stumbling about as if in a daze, to the point where he had to call her name several times for her to realize he’d spoken.
“If you are still feeling a little out of sorts, it is not too late to reschedule,” Ari reminded Nia later that day, as they were preparing their evening dress for Osric’s intimate dinner party. But she had insisted that they proceed with their plans and Ari no longer belabored the issue, especially when he saw how inordinately eager she seemed at any mention of the inn proprietor and his family.
Shades of his relief returned when they later arrived at Osric’s door, and Nia brightened upon the kindly man’s inviting hand waving them inside. The moment they stepped through the threshold, they were assailed by aromatic spices and roasted meat and vegetables, with a bready, yeasty undercurrent of frothing ale complementing the olfactory ambiance. With a sweeping bow and a respectful greeting, Ari thanked their gracious hosts for the meal and sat beside Nia at the table prepared expressly for them. “It honors me—the both of us, I daresay—that we should be the first to sample your delicious pie,” Ari said to Osric’s wife. “Nia simply worships your baking, and I do not exaggerate!” He chuckled, returning his fiancée’s playful elbow nudge. “We would be delighted to accept your gracious offer. Anything you bake will, I am certain, be a gustatory masterpiece. We look forward to your confectionery creation with great relish.”
An ounce of his trepidation returned as Nia excused herself from the table and wandered outside. He yearned to follow and check on her well-being, but recognizing the importance of needing a moment alone, he respected her need for privacy and remained behind.
While the Canaveris lord understood Nia’s request for solitude, someone else saw it as an opportunity. A figure, clad all in black, sidled beside the crying woman, offering her a handkerchief. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” The figure in black asked in a low-pitched, yet distinctly feminine voice. “Having everything you ever wanted thrown at your feet. But it’s all surface-level. All gilded. A nightmare in disguise. Proceed as you are, and you’ll learn it the hard way—but I won’t allow it. Every minute wasted presents a danger to this world, and a danger to you.” The black-clad woman faced Nia, revealing a burn-scarred face half-concealed by an eye patch and a pair of telltale Rigas ears. “False peace exists here. If you approach the Night Garden from the north, you’ll find a huge swath of forest obliterated. That’s where Teselin Kristeva met her end after losing her mind to grief after the death of Hadwin Kavanagh. She nearly destroyed everything, and the lingering aftereffects of her uncontrollable assault are still felt, even now. The Night Garden suffered a major blow, and it’ll take a long time before it can be restored to its former glory. There are other small horrors buried beneath the surface, I’m sure. Ones you’re not equipped to handle, because you’re not meant to handle them. If you dare influence things on your own, you’re only inviting doom to befall this world. I speak from experience.”
Tivia’s haunted gray eye made full, unblinking contact. “You don’t belong here. This isn’t your world. You’ll never belong because you’re a stranger in more than one sense of the word.” She looked behind her shoulder, at the still-closed door to Osric’s inn. “Tonight. Meet me in front of the Canaveris grotto at the twelfth bell. Until then…act normal. As normal as you can, without eliciting suspicions that you are not who they think you are. We have to be clandestine, making as few waves as possible. Meet me at the grotto,” she repeated, “and I will bring you home.” Cocking her head towards the door, she added, “Enjoy your dinner,” then walked away, in the direction of the stables.
When Nia returned to Osric’s table, Ari passed her a nonverbal glance of concern, but she gave him a good-natured wave in return and launched off from their latest conversational thread. Together they laughed, they reminisced, they gorged on drinks and pie, then finally, as the bells tolled their late hour, they stood to announce their farewell.
On the carriage ride home, Ari placed an affectionate hand on Nia’s knee and squeezed. “What a charming family, the Osrics,” he mused, glimpsing out the window into nothing but blackness and the faint outline of his own reflection. “It warms me to see how fond they are of you. Why, sometimes I believe they view you as a surrogate daughter!” He drew his hand upwards from her knee, nestling it into the crook of her neck. “Osric owes you a debt of gratitude for thwarting Rowen Kavanagh’s attempt to end his life. You will find no supporters more ardent than they, if you still consider your celebrity doubtful. However, if it so pleases you,” he cupped her cheek, “we shall have a smaller, more intimate affair for our wedding. If it will stem your…raging jealousy,” he said, but with a facetious smile.
“How are you faring tonight?” One thumb traced her lower eyelid, noting the subtle puffiness from her earlier spate of crying. “Are you still having trouble with your memory?” However Nia chose to answer, Ari had already made up his mind to contact both Isidor and Alster to perform a few simple cognition-related tests on her first thing in the morning.
Shortly after arriving at the villa, Ari disclosed how he would retire to bed early in preparation for the long day ahead of him tomorrow, as he anticipated it flooded with too many D’Marian-related affairs to properly track and schedule. By the time he kissed her good night and retreated to his rooms, the twelfth hour was nearly due. Sure enough, when Nia traveled to the grotto, Tivia Rigas was standing at the mouth of the cave, waiting.
“Thank you for deciding not to pull a no-show,” she said, shaking out the wrinkles of her long, billowing coat, the same one she’d worn at last night’s ball, worlds away. “It saves me the trouble of storming in after you and making an ugly spectacle out of the whole thing. Look,” she sighed, spreading out her hands in a placating gesture, “you probably have no reason to trust me. The last time we spoke, I lobbed some choice words at your head. That might have been a few months ago for you, but for me,” she paused a beat, considering how much she should reveal, “it’s been twenty-five years. Twenty-five years of living in a world like this one, having no idea I was anywhere but home until I made a choice. A huge choice…which severely fucked things up, creating a massive unraveling that was decades in the making. So I mean it when I say you can’t be here.”
She pulled something from her pocket; a heart-shaped indigo leaf that, although it began to dry and desiccate, still retained its rich, deep color. “Does this look familiar to you? A Gardener prescribed it and told you to find a particular stream, did she? Well, whatever happened, your intense yearning for a better place, plus this leaf, activated the portal-sensitive properties of that stream, causing you to switch places with your reflection. You are in her world and she is in yours.” She tucked the leaf back into her pocket. “Sooner or later, she’ll find out the Lord Canaveris of our world isn’t cured of his curse, and if she tries to redo the procedure that healed him, untold circumstances will arise. Dire ones.” She clamped a hand on Nia’s arm, her tense body language demonstrating just how dire. “If she influences our world in such a profound way, it’s bound to converge, to collide, with this one. To meld, and assimilate, and form as one collective. Any contradictions found between the two worlds will bleed into each other. Hadwin and Teselin will be both alive and dead at the same time. Lord Canaveris, both cured and sick. This gross corruption of logic cannot stand; it will render massive tears in the fabric of the universe, and our worlds will spiral wildly out of control as they break down and deteriorate.” Realizing her explanation sounded like the rantings of a madwoman, she sighed, shook her head, and focused on a different, more salient approach. “I don’t expect you to understand, but understand this; if Lord Canaveris, your Lord Canaveris, discovers that he is not in the presence of you, but of some other, imposter Nia…the shock will kill him. So,” she overturned her hand, creating just enough etherea to illuminate the lower half of Nia’s face, for ease of reading her lips, “we’re leaving tonight. And we’re returning the other Nia to her rightful home, before anyone discovers what’s actually happening. Because they will. And when they do…no one will be happy.”
She’d said the wrong thing again. How could Sigrid be so daft as not to have noticed that Bronwyn had been reaching out to her brother for some time, now? This was what happened when you became too enraptured in your own sorrow: it blinded you to everything else that everyone else was experiencing. Including her friends, who had been right in front of her all this time… When had she become so blind to the needs of others? To their pain? “...you’re right. I’m sorry--I haven’t been thinking straight, or… at all. I forgot about your comfort level regarding the summoner. As for your brother… he has always sought destructive paths. While I believe he now strives to veer from destruction, perhaps he fears that by keeping you close, you, too, may begin to seek destruction, as well.”
Pain lightly throbbed in Sigrid’s temples, a result of too much wine and not nearly enough water, but physical pain was such a dull ache from the hole in her heart that she tried so hard to ignore. But in her struggle to ignore her problems and her feelings, she was also turning her attention away from others… including those who were reaching for her. Either because they wanted to help, or because they needed help.
“The truth is, Bronwyn, my only current ‘problem’ happens to be the problem of myself.” The blonde warrior sighed softly and pressed her back against the wall. “Believe it or not, I used to be good at being there for people. As part of the Dawn Guard, it was part of my duty, and I never failed. I helped a lot of people… because it was tied to my sense of purpose. It’s even how I found myself drawn to Naimah, honestly. But Naimah… I suppose, it was easier to help her, when all she sought was unconditional acceptance. I guess I just knew what she wanted, when she needed it… and perhaps I’ve lost that ability. Or the empathy required to understand when someone is reaching out. Someone like you.” Sigrid turned her pale eyes from the wall where she had been blindly staring, to the faoladh woman reclined against the pillows. “You’re neither clingy nor in my way. I’ve just been oblivious to the fact you’ve been reaching out, over and over… It’s like I can’t see past my own reflection. I think it’s time I did better. No more excuses.”
Fetching the decanter full of water, Sigrid topped up Bronwyn’s empty glass. “Will you give me another chance, Bronwyn? You’ve had no reason to be a friend to me, and yet, you’ve persisted, even though I find myself derailed every time I am reminded of what I’ve lost. Let me help you in your pursuit of membership among the Dawn Guard--as early as tomorrow, if you’d like. But for now… I hope you’ll let me stay. In case you need anything. I… don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, tonight.” She let out a quiet sigh, knowing well that one more night stewing in her own sadness would dismantle her tenuous resolve to stop being a victim of her own trauma.
“Do you want me to come with you? Is there anything I can do to help?” Elespeth already knew the answer before she asked the question, but if there was a slim chance that she didn’t have to let Alster deal with this situation alone, she wanted to be part of it. “We can plant this seed anytime, Alster. But, if our renewed vows should mean anything, it should remind you that we’re in this together.” The former knight took one of his hands and gripped it in her own, the tiny seed still safe in the folds of her palm. “Do what you need to do. But please, call on me to keep me apprised, and if there is anything I can do, I want to do it. Don’t feel as though you and Isidor need to shoulder this alone; you can count on me.”
Understanding that she had no immediate use in this situation at this given point in time, Elespeth let Alster go with the intention to stand by in case he needed anything, trusting that he and Isidor would reach out if they realized they were beyond their means. As soon as Alster stepped through the portal, he was greeted with the sight of an extremely distraught Nia, and a quietly panicking Isidor, who looked beyond relieved to see his friend. “Nia,” he said in a careful, gentle tone. “Alster’s here. We’ll get this sorted out.”
“Alster… what’s going on? Do you know how Ari could possibly be afflicted with that curse again?” The frantic Nia turned away from Isidor, who could provide her no answers, to her only other source of hope. “I don’t know how or when this happened. He was perfectly fine yesterday, but I touched him just now… I don’t understand. How could this happen after we worked so hard and so carefully? It doesn’t make any sense…!”
Not expecting the Rigas mage to pull a fast one on her in a situation like this, Nia’s guard was down, and she hardly realized the magic that enveloped her until it was too late, and she collapsed, unconscious in Alster’s arms. Isidor sighed so long and hard that he could have deflated, and pressed a hand against the wall as if to steady himself. “I’ve got the tablets… but while they may erase the past few hours from her memory, there’s no guarantee she won’t detect the substance in her body when she comes to. I’ve always known when I’ve taken one, myself; I simply can’t remember the reason why. If she catches on… then she is going to become suspicious. And if she suspects we are keeping secrets from her, we may then lose her cooperation, and… and then what?” The Master Alchemist looked at his empty hands, completely devoid of any answers. “Things could become dangerous… for Ari. It is like Tivia said: above all else, Ari must not discover that anything is amiss with Nia.”
Leaning his thin frame against the wall, Isidor wiped perspiration from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Maybe… maybe we should just tell her the truth. As far as we can suspect, at least, considering Tivia insists on being vague. It is as you say--we cannot keep knocking her unconscious and slipping her tablets that will alter her memory every time she discovers all is not as it seems.” He indicated the unconscious woman in Alster’s arms, following him back into the spare bedroom as he laid her back upon the empty bed. “Even… if this is not the Nia we have come to know, she bears more similarities to that one than differences. She would not risk anything that might harm Ari. If we are honest with her, and we can convince her we are working to rectify this issue, perhaps she’ll… I don’t know. Play along until we solve this problem.”
She was doing a shit job of acting as though nothing was amiss, and it was becoming more and more obvious that Ari wasn’t buying into it. And it was such a waste of feelings: why couldn’t she just enjoy this time with her beloved? Her betrothed, in fact? A carefree life with Ari was all she could hope for, and now that she has suddenly found herself in the midst of her one and only dream… all she could do was worry. Nothing in life was ever handed to you so nicely wrapped in pretty paper without repercussions or some sort of price. Was that price already paid? Did… did Hadwin and Teselin pay that price for this life that I could only dream of?
It wasn’t right, and contrary to her feelings, her surroundings weren’t perfect. No existence was worthwhile if it meant someone else had to cease to exist. Ari’s health, the happy people who approached them on their walk like they’d known her and loved her forever, and the fine meal they intended to share with Osric’s family had somehow resulted from what must have been a tragedy for both Isidor and Bronwyn, losing their siblings to oblivion. It just didn’t feel right, and now this wedding--which was already in the works and would take place within the next year, it seemed--would be missing one of her good friends. Someone who hadn’t demonized her from the beginning, and to whom she actually owed a great deal… except, Ari didn’t seem to have any concept of Galeyn harbouring any such dislike or resentment toward her. In fact, the entire kingdom seemed to have forgotten it had ever hated her…
It’s too good to be true. Something is going to go wrong… because none of this should be happening. It shouldn’t… be real.
Nia wanted to enjoy Ari’s company. To enjoy Osric’s company, and his family’s company, but this felt too much like she was living a reward that she hadn’t earned. Who’d have thought that her conscience would end up being her own worst enemy? The Master Alchemist took her leave before she could completely fall apart, and managed to make it outside before the tears began to flow. “Why can’t I just be happy…?” She muttered under her breath, simultaneously sad and frustrated that she was living a dream she’d hardly dared to hope for, and the only thing she could feel was uneasy. What she wouldn’t have given to put her conscience on hold and pretend like nothing was wrong… pretend like this was a life she had actually worked towards.
Someone approached her not long after stepping outside. Nia hadn’t bothered to look up, reluctant to put her teary face on display, but by the dark hues of this person’s cloak, it was clear it wasn’t Ari, or Osric or his wife. That voice, however…
“Oh… thanks.” Nia managed a smile as she took the proffered handkerchief, but stopped short when she took in the features of the kind samaritan. Those ears, that face with a faded scar… she was strikingly familiar. Yet… older. But how… “...Tivia? Tivia Rigas?” She almost dropped the handkerchief, but her surprise was rather unwarranted, considering everything else she’d experienced since opening her eyes late that morning. Ari was cured, Osric was alive, Hadwin and Teselin were dead… Was it really so strange that she might find Tivia still alive and well and, well, not disappeared? But something about her comment didn’t sit right: like she was also keenly aware that everything Nia was experiencing was far beyond a reality that she was used to… “Ex…cuse me? Do you know… what’s happening here? What’s going on?”
She didn’t have to wait for Tivia to explain. Tivia knew something, that was for certain, but how much she was willing to reveal remained to be seen. The last time the two women had spoken… well, they hadn’t ended on the best note, and then the star seer had vanished shortly after. What were the chances that, if this was the same Tivia Rigas she remembered, that she was actually here to help?
“...I’m still me. And, whatever is going on in this world, a Nia Ardane is still alive and well in it, right?” The Master Alchemist furrowed her eyebrows as the thought dawned on her. “So… why wouldn’t I be meant for this place? Why else would I be here? I woke up… and this was my world.” She wanted it to be true--Nia so badly wanted to believe Tivia was spouting untruths, for whatever vendetta she had against her, but deep down, she knew that wasn’t the case. The star seer did not care to elaborate, and instead instructed Nia to meet with her later that night, before taking off as stealthily as she had appeared.
What if I don’t go? The Master Alchemist wondered, her rebellious streak urging her beyond her better judgment. Hadwin and Teselin are gone. This reality, this world, has already balanced itself out… What damage could I possibly cause from just existing?
There was more to it, and she needed to find out exactly what she was faced with… but a part of Nia desperately wanted to believe that she could belong here. The world had somehow turned itself upside down for her and given her almost everything she ever could have wanted; why wouldn’t she be intended to be here?
Nia carried that question with her as she returned to Osric’s pub and sat down with his family as well as Ari, all smiles and optimism, as if she hadn’t been crying just moments ago. The meal was delicious, and it hearkened to old times, before Osric had banned her from his establishment… before he had died, in some other world. Underneath her anxiety and confusion, the Master Alchemist did feel a sense of peace beneath all those layers. As if everything she had experienced prior to now had been naught but a nightmare, and she’d finally woken up.
Full of food that she never thought she’d taste again, Nia climbed into the carriage later that evening, feeling almost dazed from the blissful, dreamlike experience that felt both so foreign to her, and so right. “Osric really is one in a million.” She agreed with Ari, leaning into his touch: not desperate or weak, but strong. Carefree, for the first time since she had known him. “But honestly, Ari, it’s up to you. A big, grand wedding with hundreds of people would be as special to me as an intimate one, but Canaversis don’t go small on anything, do they?” Her lips pulled into a grin and she shifted her body to cup his cheek with her hand. This is real. Why can’t I keep this?
“I’m doing just fine, Ari. Things have been… coming back to me. Don’t worry even for a moment.” It was easy to lie when there was nothing wrong with her memory--at least she could conclude as much after coming into contact with Tivia Rigas, whose presence still confused her. But at this point, Nia was feeling far less bewildered and distraught, and more determined to prove to the Rigas woman that she could belong here. There had to be a way, or else, what the hell was she doing here in the first place?
When they arrived at the villa, and Ari declared he was set for early retirement that evening, it set up the perfect opportunity for her to go and meet Tivia--although a part of her didn’t want to go at all. A part of her wanted to retire with Ari, go to sleep without a worry in the world, like this was a place was the home she had always known. But if the star seer had answers that she didn’t, it was imperative she meet with her. So, after the Canaveris lord departed for their chambers, Nia took the chance to slip away without rousing any suspicion. Sure enough, Tivia was exactly where she said she would be.
“...you’re right. I really don’t have any reason to trust you. I feel like I’ve got more reasons to suspect you’re just here to fuck things up for me.” Nia wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly chilled for a summer night. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I know something here is… wrong. Hadwin and Teselin are dead; and as much as I want for Ari what he has here, I’d never wish their death on anyone. I don’t know how or why I’m here, or what’s going on, yet… here I am.” The leaf Tivia held up, however, did strike her as very familiar. One that she had seen recently, through tear-filled, inebriated eyes… so what was what the Night Garden had done for her, in her drunken grief after leaving the palace. She’d been so overcome with despair that she’d never escape being a prisoner of Galeyn, and… evidently, this was the only way the Night Garden had seen fit to solve her problems. It all made sense now--as much as a situation like this could make sense.
But, it seemed that even the Night Garden was not infallible, and it had created a very tenuous situation for this place and the world from which she had come. “Hold on… just, hold on. It sounds to me like I’m not the problem, here; your concern is the other… me. You’re afraid she’s going to upset the balance of our world because she’ll find out Ari--my Ari isn’t cured? Then you’re in the wrong place, Tivia. Deal with her, not with me. I… I can’t leave here with you, yet. Not tonight.”
Tivia’s expression shifted between a mix of shocked and desperate, and for fear of being suddenly pulled back through dimensions against her will, Nia took a step back. “The version of me that you say belongs in this world… she cured Ari. She, and Alster, and Isidor figured it out. I need to find out exactly what they did; exactly how it all went down. I need to know the details… so I can bring them back, and do the same. I understand, now--I know why the Night Garden sent me here.” She turned, gesturing with her arms to this mirror-image world that was not her own. “Not because it ever intended to have me stay… It’s giving me the opportunity to earn the right to have the kind of happiness that the me in this world. I’m going to find out exactly what to do to dissolve Ari’s curse, and then, I am going to do it.
“So here’s what I’ll tell you. Give me one day--just one day to learn what I can. That’s all I ask. Please.” Nia looked over her shoulder, back at the villa, where the Ari of this world was none the wiser that she wasn’t the Nia he thought he knew. It felt cruel to deceive him, but… was she really? She was still her; still Nia. “Tomorrow night, I’ll meet you back here, and I’ll leave this place. You have my word. I know you’re able to communicate with Alster through your celestial magic, so just… just tell him to keep an eye on the other me for one day. Even if it means lying to Ari. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be unreasonable. I’m… I’m trying to do things right.”
Before Tivia could protest, or convince her otherwise, Nia turned and fled, back to the Canaveris villa. She didn’t intend to sleep--and, fortunately, she happened to know for a fact that a certain other Master Alchemist was also prone to bouts of insomnia. Now was as good a time as any to gather what she needed to know about nullifying Ari’s curse, and to bring that information back to the Isidor and Alster of her own reality.
She remained confused by Sigrid’s behavior. Why in all hell did she insist on apologizing, when Bronwyn was in the wrong? She kept on unloading her countless issues upon her, not Sigrid. “You’re a much better person than I am,” she admitted, resting a cool hand over the back of her sticky, hot forehead. Although she had closed her eyes to shutter away the low, yet persistently piercing light of the bedside lantern, she gave a slight nod of her head to show she still listened. “More capable, too. You’ve helped a lot of people. Both as a valued member of the Dawn Guard, and as a lover. That sense of purpose still burns in you. Much as you think otherwise, you haven’t lost it.” She sighed, folding her hand over her eyes. “And here I go again, spouting platitudes as if I have you all figured out from a glance. But—compared to me, you really are someone worthy of celebrating. You’re a real somebody.” A small, gurgling laugh bubbled from her lips like a malfunctioning fountainhead.
“I’ve spent my entire life in the service of my clan. To help, to build, to provide. And I truly thought I was helping. Making an actual difference—when all this time, I was being sent to do menial tasks as a distraction, while Chief was delegating orders to others he deemed more deserving. More competent.” She dug her fingers into her eyes, warding away the persistent, painful memory with immediate stabs of pain. “I’ve never helped anyone a day in my life. I thought I was helping my sister; no, she was just playing me for the fool that I am. I tried to help my brother, but you’re right. He wants to call the shots and won’t take anything from me out of some infuriating need to be protective. But he’s the kind of person to refuse help from anyone, even if it kills him. So,” she shifted in her gown, which grew increasingly more uncomfortable and tight around the bodice, “give yourself a little credit, here. You’re doing your best, and it shows.”
Someone like you. Sigrid’s confession fluttered Bronwyn’s eyes wide open. Was the blonde warrior reciprocating their one-sided friendship? Reaching out, as per her claim? Don’t read too much into it. Not like before. I’m not important enough for her. But she wants to help me…so I’ll let her help. If it will help her heal, I don’t mind if I’m a stepping stone.
“Of course.” Smiling, she accepted the cup from Sigrid’s hand. “I never stopped. Rather, I haven’t needed to give you any chances at all. Not when you’ve done nothing wrong.” Draining her cup in two sips, she rested the empty vessel again on the bed. “Stay as long as you want, Sigrid. I’d appreciate the company. I would also appreciate,” she waggled the cup, “if you drank something. Sooner rather than later. So,” she returned the cup to Sigrid, “will you do that for me?”
“Yes, yes…it’s the best course of action we have left.” Alster lowered his hands, which had been uneasily combing through his hair, messing up the style he’d slaved to perfect during a frivolous moment from another lifetime ago. Another world, even. Were fussing over cosmetic issues the least of his troubles. He almost pined for a return to his anxious fits over surprise weddings rather than face the groundbreaking implications of a Nia from an alternate reality. …Almost.
Face it. You love the drama, the tumult of his thoughts mocked. The extremely specific kind, that looks to you for answers. Wouldn’t you have hated to miss getting involved? Even if it meant a peaceful, loving wedding’s eve with Elespeth warm in your bed?
He couldn’t deny elements of truth behind the uncomfortable ruminations in his head, but, in no mood to argue with himself, he summarily ignored them. “Tivia didn’t say anything about not informing the other Nia; only that Ari couldn’t discover her real identity. Didn’t Tivia also suggest we try and learn what we can from her? To me, that translates as telling her the truth. But,” he watched Nia’s chest rise and fall, peaceful in her compulsive slumber, “how will she take it, I wonder? If learning about Ari’s curse sent her this far off the edge, we can’t guarantee she won’t go ballistic when we mention that she’s not exactly at home.”
A faint glimmer of cobalt etherea sparkled in his steel palm. “We might as well ward the room. Ensure that no unwanted sound reaches the rest of the villa.” After casting his sound-muting spell, he placed his opposite hand on Nia’s sleeping shoulder. “I’ll awaken her now, but depending on how she reacts to the news, I might have to put her under…and see what I can do about erasing her memory. With magic, she won’t detect any mind-tampering through the chemical makeup of your tablets. I don’t like it, but this is too delicate a situation to risk. Worse if Ari gets involved.” With a nod of warning, Alster siphoned the sleep-inducing wisps of chthonic magic from her body and waited for her to wake up naturally. A few minutes later, she was already blinking her eyes open.
“I’m sorry, Nia.” He lowered his hand, genuinely apologetic. “I had put you to sleep in a poor attempt to calm you down. But more than that; because you learned something we,” he gestured to Isidor, “didn’t think you should know. But we’ve deliberated about it, and decided to tell you the truth. It’s…a lot to take in, so please, stay seated.”
“We lied to you,” he clasped his hands behind his back, retaining some modicum of poise and control. “Played along, more like. In truth—as far as we know it to be true—you’re in the wrong place. In the wrong world. We aren’t the Alster and Isidor you’re familiar with. And Ari,” he shook his head, “he’s not your Ari. In this world, we have yet to perform the curse-lifting procedure that will save his life. Teselin and Hadwin are alive. Osric is dead, and,” he hesitated, “the Nia that belongs here never broke her alliance with Locque. Upon the sorceress’s defeat, she became a prisoner of Galeyn until we’ve deemed her crimes repaid through various acts of service. We don’t know how it happened exactly, but the Nia of this world traded places with you and is now an inhabitant of your reality.” Joining her on the bed, Alster laid a comforting hand on her arm and met her eyes, noting the confusion and distress swimming in them. “We’re doing all that we can to return you to your rightful home. And we will. Once I figure out how to reopen the portal, I’ll come for you, and we’ll go to the stream where it happened. But as of now, we need you to do something for us.” He jutted his chin towards the door. “As you know, Ari is very, very sick. We’ve been informed that a disturbance of this magnitude will essentially cause him fatal distress. Death,” he said, opting for straightforward verbiage. “The stress and shock will be too much for his overburdened body to handle, and he will die. That is, if he finds out you aren’t the Nia he loves. So,” he checked Nia’s face for understanding, “he mustn’t know. Whenever you’re around him, you have to act like nothing is amiss. Can you do this? And,” he added, a hopeful lilt to his voice, “can you tell us how you did it? How you managed to cure Ari and stay alive in the process? Because as of right now…our Nia’s percentages of survival are abysmally low. And I fear Ari’s percentages are also taking a severe nosedive as his curse advances.”
Before he could elicit a response from Nia, a polite knock sounded from the other side of the door. “Nia?” Ari’s unmistakable baritone called to her. “Are you awake? I felt your hand on me, earlier…though I do suppose I imagined it. If not, then we are both entangled in the throes of insomnolence and would much appreciate your company.”
“No,” came Tivia’s staccatoed, clipped response. Already, she had anticipated Nia to meet her with resistance, for what self-respecting person would believe her doomsday ramblings? But in addition to resistance, Nia also revealed that she was a bigger moron than Tivia originally thought. “Gods, no,” Tivia repeated, more emphatically. “Both of you are the problem. I’d even argue that you’re the bigger problem. But I can’t be two places at once, and no one else has the ability to reliably portal between the worlds, so I’ve given the matter of the other Nia to Isidor and Alster to solve.”
I can’t leave here with you, yet. Not tonight. A long-suffering sigh passed through Tivia’s lips. “Of course not. Because why make it easy for me?” She muttered, more to herself than Nia.
“Do you really believe I can effortlessly flip-flop between worlds like it’s some party trick?” She said, a last-ditch attempt at reason–but her impatience was becoming readily apparent. “Far as I can tell, my only way out of this world is through you. Only one star-seer can exist at a time, so whenever I enter a world where there is one, I lose my ability and with that, any hope of returning on my own. As it stands, I’m stuck here with you. And if I could contact our world’s Alster,” she raised a quizzical eyebrow, “don’t you think I would have already tried that when I was trapped in another world for over two decades?” She closed one hand into a frustrated fist, but hid it behind her back as she schooled her expression into one of relative composure.
“I don’t suppose you’ll change your mind?” She strained through her words, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “Not even if I say that the more time you spend here, the lower your chances of saving Ari? No? Thought so.” She clicked her tongue, staring at the space Nia had once occupied. Not bothering to give chase, she leaned against the mouth of the tunnel and pulled out a long, thin pipe, lighting the bowl with a spark of etherea.
“Why do I even bother?” she said to the air as she took a thankful puff of the herb in her bowl. “Fine.” She smacked her lips against the stem. “We’re doing this my way.”
The following morning, not long after Ari had risen and pressed a farewell kiss on his betrothed’s mouth as he parted, a rapping came from the door. At the go-ahead, Galena popped her head through the open crack. “Oh, Miss Nia, I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but you have visitors waiting for you in the parlor. Will you be requiring any assistance with your wardrobe today? No? Very well.” She moved to slide the door shut. “I will inform your visitors of your prompt arrival, then. Do let me know if you need anything else.”
When Nia arrived in the parlor, indeed, two people were seated on the settee, chatting amongst each other and sipping on their beverages.
“Nia.” Upon her entrance, Alster stood from his seated position and greeted her with a shallow bow. “Good morning to you. We apologize in advance for calling on you during such an obscene hour,” he turned to the window, which glowed a nascent golden yellow, “but Isidor and I were…well,” he cast a worried look at his friend, “well, it’s best that you have a seat.”
Whether or not Nia chose to follow his advice, Alster, fiddling with the stem of his drink, set it aside on the table and spread out his hands. “Something has come to our attention. Last night, in fact. We’ve been given ample reason to believe,” he shifted one foot, searching for the right words, “that you hail from a different version of the world we live in now. If this is true, will you be honest and tell us so? In return, we’ll answer what you wish to know.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “How to lift Ari’s curse. We understand that the one from your world is still afflicted?”
“Initially, Ari called us here,” he continued. “He suspected something was off about you, but he couldn’t quite place why, save for issues with your memory. A quick scan of your brain will reveal all the pertinent information I need, but something tells me that will be unnecessary.” His features folded into a frown. “Because I can see it outright. Your aura is not only bruised, but the colors are slightly off spectrum, and I’ve never seen such a thing in you, or in anyone else, save for the Serpent, and—“
“—Me.” Sitting in a chair before them, Tivia materialized from her shroud of concealment, settling her unamused glare on Nia. “I take it you won’t run from me this time?” She gave the Ardane woman a humorless smile. “Now go and do what the Night Garden has called you to do. I’ll wait, but if you think I’m letting you out of my sight, think again.” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair. “When you’re done here, we’re returning to the Night Garden. Back to the stream where it happened.”
“...what?” Sigrid didn’t even try to hide her dumbfoundedness. Bronwyn must have been drunk out of her mind to make a comment like that. “Are you forgetting that our forest encounter was me tackling you, an innocent civilian, to the ground? The Dawn Guard would have had good reason to force me to disband from them for that act alone. Next to your brother, Bronwyn, I am possibly the most fucked up person you know.”
The former Dawn warrior had fallen from grace long ago, at this point, and after being enthralled by Locque, had fallen even further. How Bronwyn could find her at all redeemable was beyond her understanding, but then… perhaps it wasn’t what she had done wrong or right that had drawn Hadwin’s only sane sister to her. Perhaps it was that they were both so fucking, desperately lost, and couldn’t find their way but with someone else who was just as fucking, desperately lost. Whether or not that made their friendship organic… Sigrid was willing to lean into it. Bronwyn didn’t try to steer her in the right direction or distract her like Haraldur and Vega; she just let her feel like shit, without making her feel as though these feelings were invalid. And that meant more to the blonde warrior than she could reasonably express.
Bronwyn didn’t even think twice to confirm that it was fine for her to stay the night, if not to keep an eye on the faoladh woman, then to grant her her wish of not being alone with her thoughts. Sigrid appreciated the faoladh’s presence: sometimes, simply existing alongside someone else, without feeling pressured to be one way or another, to veer in a certain direction, was exactly where you needed to be.
“Water? I’m not ready to be sober. Not by a long shot.” Sigrid groaned as she took the cup from Bronwyn. But she didn’t want to make it Bronwyn’s problem if she ended up too hungover to leave her room in the morning, so she begrudgingly refilled the empty glass with water and forced it down. “...there. Happy? I’m still not sure that water will be enough for either of us to wake up without a pounding headache, but…” Pressing her back against the wall, she slid into a sitting position and removed the ornate overcoat that had been keeping her too warm for a summer night. “At least we can say we tried.”
“You know I’m an awful liar, Alster. I don’t know that telling her is the best course of action… just that it’s the safest.” Isidor admitted, looking guiltily down at his shoes. “I just don’t know how much longer I can keep up such a ruse… and I honestly don’t know how we’ll return this Nia to the world where she belongs without putting her in the know.”
He was able to relax ever so slightly when Alster warded the room, taking care that they wouldn’t be heard while they took a risk and spoke with this foreign Nia about the anomaly that was occurring. There was no telling how she would take this news, and if she still refused to cooperate… Would they even be able to return her to her own world by force? Isidor watched with trepidation as Alster reversed the magic that had put the other Master Alchemist to sleep. She stirred, opened her eyes, and sat up bearing a look of visible confusion. Alster didn’t wait for her to ask questions before explaining the situation, both as delicately and as urgently as possible.
“...wrong world? What… how is that possible?” Nia’s words were slow as her mind struggled to comprehend what she was hearing. Her frantic eyes looked between the faces of two people she thought she knew and could trust. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not capable of… of whatever you think has happened. This isn’t some cruel prank? You’re not fucking with me?” But nothing in either man’s expression suggested that this was a trick, harmless or cruel. She didn’t understand what was happening, or how it happened, or how it was even possible, but the two men in front of her were telling the truth.
Her gaze traveled to her bare left hand, where just the other day, she had seen an engagement ring. “...it’s not lost, is it?” Her question was directed at Isidor, who not long ago had humoured her about helping her find it. “Ari and I--I mean, Ari and the Nia of this world… aren’t engaged. And Osric is… dead? Why? How did this happen?”
It had something to do with this other Nia’s decisions; of that, she was sure, as soon as Alster confided that the Nia Ardane of this reality had not broken her alliance with Locque. She had worked for her up until the very end, at which point she became a prisoner of Galeyn. This world and its circumstances… It was nothing short of a nightmare.
“... what… am I supposed to do?” Her voice grew small. She hardly noticed the reassuring hand Alster had placed on her arm. “If I don’t belong here… if this is not home, then I need to go home. Ari--my Ari, we’re engaged. We’re planning a wedding, a life together, I can’t… this can’t be happening.”
Whether or not she believed that Alster and Isidor could find a way to send her back to the reality where she belonged, their gesture was nonetheless sincere. Clearly, they had reason to want their Nia back, however terribly she had fucked up her own life (and others’ lives) by her own decisions. They might not be the Isidor and Alster that she knew… but they weren’t her enemies. “...I don’t want to hurt Ari. Even one that isn’t… mine. I won’t compromise his life.” She confirmed after a moment, much to Isidor’s visible relief. “But what I did… When I saved my Ari, it wasn’t because of my efforts alone. Both of you--well, alternate versions of you, I suppose, played an important part in keeping me and Ari alive. And only you two are capable of understanding your own methods…”
Nia trailed off as a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. It was Ari… the Ari that existed in this world, so similar and yet so different from her own. Isidor jumped and instantly tensed up, sharing a panicked look with Alster as moved to her feet and approached the door. She opened it just enough to find Ari, waiting patiently for a response, and then stepped out, shutting the door behind her before he could note that she wasn’t alone in the room. “You can’t sleep either, huh?” She offered a weak smile and put a hand on his arm. She could feel the curse thriving just beneath his skin… something she hadn’t felt in quite a while, and it broke her heart. The alternate version of her who inhabited this world had fucked up substantially, perhaps, but that didn’t change the fact that she still had a very deep relationship witb this man--and that she would try to save him, at all cost. Nia couldn’t return to her own world with a clear conscience if anything happened to this version of Ari. “Of course you can have my company,” she said after a pause, and threaded her fingers between his. “If you want to try to sleep, I’ll see what I can do to help. Otherwise… the stars are really beautiful from the garden, if you’d like to take your sleeplessness there.”
Regardless of what Tivia thought of her and her idiocy, Nia’s revelation sat too heavily on her chest for it not to hold some merit. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was here, in a world almost too perfect for her to imagine; and it wasn’t a coincidence that Tivia Rigas had appeared, and now provided her a means to return to the world in which she belonged. The Night Garden was not sentient, but it was powerful, and sometimes the aid it provided occurred in a slow or roundabout manner. It had known what she’d wanted more than anything: to be in a world where she was accepted and loved, and where Ari was alright. And maybe she would never truly be accepted in her reality, regardless of whether or not she was successful in curing Ari of his curse, but she was not about to waste her opportunity to achieve the latter. Now that she had living, breathing proof that Ari could be rid of his curse, and the both of them would live to talk about it, how could she not do everything in her power to find out what she needed to know to save her Ari in another world?
After leaving a disgruntled Tivia, she returned to the chambers she shared with Ari, and quietly searched the room for resonance stones while the Canaveris lord slept. Certainly one of them would reach Alster or Isidor--preferably the other Master Alchemist, as he had a tendency toward insomnia, if this Isidor was anything like the Isidor she knew. Sadly, she came across no such communication devices in any pockets or drawers at that hour, and decided to cut her losses, lest she awaken Ari. Perhaps the best thing for her would be a decent sleep, leaving her awake and aware enough to learn all that she could about the procedure that had saved this particular Canaveris lord in the morning. This doesn’t have to be temporary: this can be real, she thought as she pulled herself close to his warm body, strong and healthy. I can save you, Ari… just give me one more day.
She had to trust that whatever Nia she had traded places with would go out of her way not to do any harm to Ari; perhaps she had already become aware of her situation, and understood that she wasn’t in the place where she belonged. Refusing to return tonight with Tivia, she knew she was taking a risk… but she had to believe that she was doing the right thing. It was unlikely she’d ever find such an opportunity again, and since they had already planned to expedite the procedure, she had to go into it armed with all the knowledge she needed.
Early the next morning, she was barely awake when Ari pressed a kiss to her lips and informed her he was off to attend some early duties. For a moment, just a brief, blissful moment upon awakening, she’d forgotten about the predicament she was in. But when he kissed her, reminding her once again of his strong and healthy form, she remembered where she was--and what she had to do before night fell, and she’d have to fulfill her promise to Tivia and leave this world.
She was already sitting up and rifling through her packed wardrobe by the time Galena rapped on her door to advise her she had ‘visitors’--plural, so it couldn’t just be Tivia (although she rather expected the star seer to show up sooner than later.) “Give me just a moment! I’ll put on something respectable and be there in no time,” she informed the golem, whose friendliness was still so strange to her, compared to the aloof and sometimes hostile attitude of Laz, to whom she had not quite yet warmed herself. She never thought she would miss that golem’s sarcasm, but it was like a little annoyance that she hadn’t realized had become part of her normalcy until it wasn’t there anymore.
Grabbing one of the more neutral and casual outfits that this other Nia owned (and there weren’t many of them--Ari’s passion for good fashion certainly seemed to have rubbed off on her), the Master Alchemist made her way to the parlor to greet these ‘visitors’--and Tivia Rigas wasn’t among them at all. Instead, Alster and Isidor sat upon the settee, speaking quietly with one another until they noticed her arrival.
“Al! Isidor. What brings you here so early?” No sooner did Nia sit across from the two of them that she noticed the unease in Isidor’s posture. He seemed to have a hard time looking at her now, when just the other day, he’d acted as if she were a friend. It didn’t take long to understand why the Rigas mage and the other Master Alchemist had sought her out at this hour. Last night, huh… Tivia doesn’t fuck around. There was no point in denying the truth when, in exchange for it, they had agreed to do exactly what she had intended to ask of them.
The Ardane woman drew a long, slow breath. It’s not like she had intended to keep it a secret on purpose; she’d been thrown into this situation without any warning. So why did she feel so nervous confirming what they already knew? “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” She declared at last, looking between Alster and Isidor. “I didn’t ask to be here; I just… woke up, and suddenly found Ari cured. But I know he isn’t my Ari, because my Ari is still afflicted. And I need to help him, and fast, because he’s deteriorating. So, I figured, since I’m here…”
“What’s wrong with your hands?” Isidor filled the silence when she trailed off, eyes fixed on her hands gripping each of her knees.
Nia looked down only to realize that they were trembling. Her aura aside, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she wasn’t alright. No wonder Ari had sought them out. “I don’t know, actually. They’ve been like this every now and then since I was arrested and became a prisoner of Galeyn. ”
“...arrested?” Isidor repeated the word, wondering if he’d heard wrong. “Prisoner?”
“The Nia you know is a hero--she opposed Locque at risk of her own life, if I understand correctly. I am not that Nia, Isidor. I didn’t oppose Locque at any point in time. When she went ballistic… I ran. Then Osric’s son stabbed me--Rowen, the one in my world, killed Osric--and I had to stop running until Hadwin found me days later.” Nia could almost feel the colour leave her face. Why did she feel so sick to her stomach recounting details that she had made peace with? Because I’m giving them a reason to hate me as much as my world does. “He survived, by the way. So did Teselin. He brought me to Ari to treat my leg for infection, I was starting to recover, but then, Ari turned me in, Galeyn wanted me dead because apparently not enough blood was spilled…”
Her head spun; this was too much. Pushing herself up from her seat, Nia made haste toward an open window, where the cool morning air cleared her lungs and her mind. This is why your hands won’t stop shaking, a critical voice said at the back of her mind. Because you haven’t made peace with any of this.
“Ari… turned you in? Then why…” Isidor sighed, clearly struggling to grasp Nia’s narrative. “Why are you intent on saving the Ari from your world?”
“Because I never stopped loving him, and we have plans for a future together.” It took everything in Nia’s power not to snap at the other Master Alchemist. When she had promised to tell them anything they wanted to know, questioning her motive to do good wasn’t what she had anticipated. “Look, I came very close to deciding that life isn’t worth living. That I was better off dead, just like my sisters. I’m still trying to convince myself that there is a chance Ari and I can be happy and have the life that we want…”
Alster must have sensed the rising tension in the room, as he opted to change the subject, explaining that he believed her by her aura alone, but just as she felt she might be able to let her guard down, another visitor decided to make her presence known.
“Has anyone ever told you your timing is absolute shit?” Nia rubbed her temples with her fingertips. The sun had barely risen; it was too early for the star seer’s self-righteousness. Turning her body toward Isidor, she quipped, “I don’t know what your world’s Tivia is like, but she can’t possibly be more aggravating than this one.”
“I can’t say for certain; we’ve barely met in passing.” The Kristeva alchemist hardly missed a beat, and appeared confused as to why Nia was directing a comment at him. “That’s a question for Alster, although one completely off topic from the reason we’re here, this morning.”
“...huh. Awkward. Well,” Nia spread her arms then let them fall listlessly to her sides. “You heard the woman. Tell me what I need to know to help Ari--my Ari--and I’ll get out of here, and all will return to as it was.”
Isidor pushed himself into a standing position and adjusted his spectacles. Nia had the sense he didn’t trust this version of her, and… it was disappointing. It had been so refreshing yesterday when he’d treated her like a friend. “I’ll retrieve my notes, but only so much was written. The rest is anecdotal. Alster can let you in on his specific role in the meantime, but… I hope you realize, what we can tell you is not a recipe for success. Even now, after hours of pouring over analyses…” He exchanged a concerned look with Alster, seemingly refusing to meet her eyes. “We still don’t know how or why you--erm the Nia of this dimension, woke from her coma. You’d better hope you carry that very same luck with you, Otherworlder.”
Ari could not manage to sleep that evening, and not for a lack of trying. Exhausted from his hours’ long trek through the Night Garden, he craved rest, squeezed his eyes shut and wished for slumber to take him, but a number of factors prevented him from finding desperate reprieve. For one, he could not in good conscience sleep soundly, knowing the condition in which he last left Nia. Although Isidor reassured him she would be looked after, his restless mind obsessed over her well-being, imagining ridiculous worst-case scenarios where she lost the will to awaken and remained in a coma-like state for the rest of her days. Although he understood the improbability behind his dramatic catastrophizing, it nonetheless haunted him with worry for Nia, affecting the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat and forcing him to concentrate on preventing a parade of flare-ups. If he slept now, he would forfeit control over his body, and what would await him in the morning? A statue where his body once lay?
As it stood, his current status was…poor, to say the least. His stiffened joints ached whenever he moved them, feeling as though he overworked each muscle group through vigorous exercise. His fingers advanced to an arthritic stage, curved into near-permanent hooks from which he could hardly unhook. His head swam in a lightheaded fog and his vision blurred. Parts of his mouth and throat felt numb, and he needed to give himself constant reminders to breathe, and swallow—a difficult endeavor when his lungs refused to expand to their normal capacity. Worse yet, he was beginning to lose his sense of touch, such that when a figure approached him later that evening and stroked his arm, he only felt a tickle of warmth like a whisper of the summer breeze on his skin. When he crooked open one eye, the figure retreated from his room, but he recognized the silhouette and her sometimes unbalanced, nervous movements. He squeezed out a sigh of relief to see Nia up and about. One less worry to occupy his mind. Not only that, but she granted him an excuse to forsake sleep and follow. He’d rather keep her company than potentially never wake up again. Perhaps, then, his fear of Nia falling into a perpetual state of unconsciousness was aimed in the wrong direction.
Rising from his bed was a struggle that took countless minutes of awkward rocking, like a turtle overturned on its shell, before he gained enough momentum to launch himself upright. By the time he’d planted his feet on the floor, he needed to rest a few moments, his heart pounding wildly in his ears and his head a dizzying whirligig, threatening nausea if he didn’t abort his mission straightaway.
“What are you doing?” Laz’s voice sounded from across the room. “Are you mad?! Lay down and rest. You cannot possibly mean to go out and about at this hour.”
“…No.” Placing a hand on his overwhelmed head, Ari stood, wobbling, on his feet. “Fetch my cane. I…this is not how I wish to spend tonight. Or subsequent nights. Please…understand.” His hand lowered, resting on his racing heart. “I cannot allow tensions between Nia and me to endure, when time…” he breathed, with difficulty, “when time is slipping. I cannot possibly sleep when there is so much left to do.” He turned his failing vision to the shadow at his bedside. “Please help me, Laz. Help me reach her chambers. From one friend to another.”
Through the joint effort of Laz and Ari, they managed to arrive at the guest room where Nia was recuperating. “I do hope she has not retired for the rest of the evening,” he whispered to Laz as he knocked on the door.
Luckily, she had not, and emerged within moments of his summons, managing a smile for him…when it should have been the other way around. He smiled in turn, wide and encouraging, as he looped his arm through her own. “I would enjoy a brief traipse through the garden. Pending your health, of course. I understand you might be recovering from alcohol-induced malaise, unless Isidor has supplied you with the appropriate tonic? Is he still inside?” He peeked his head through the crack in the door, but by then, Nia had already closed it shut. “Ah, no matter. Shall we proceed, then?”
Wedged in between Nia and Laz, Ari had less trouble keeping pace as they emerged outdoors from the back, into the lush greenery of the koi pond garden. They traversed the curved bridge overlooking the pond, watching the orange shapes of the whispered fish flit about beneath the limpid water. Trading Nia and Laz’s arms for the railing, he leaned his elbows over it and gazed at the sky, still patchy with holdover clouds from the earlier storm. “Please, accept my humblest apologies regarding tonight. I never meant to cause you so much distress,” his dark, saddened eyes flicked back to Nia. “This is all my fault, I’m afraid. Here, I wanted us to share a wonderful evening together, and I squandered our opportunity by dashing your hopes. You wished for reassurance; instead, I granted you a cold, dark reality. It matters not how I attempted to remedy the situation. I spoke your praises to the crowd, making certain you would receive credit for your wonderful contributions to Galeyn and Stella D’Mare thus far. Alas…you were not there to share in such joy. Because I drove you away, and drove you to drink. For that…I am truly, deeply sorry.” A strong breeze blew in from the south, rippling the pond waters and tangling his black hair into his eyes. He lowered his head to his hands, which were bracing the railing for dear life. He couldn’t afford to lift one to correct his mussed-up hair. And why did appearances matter at this late stage? Why did he continue to care? So he closed his eyes, and allowed the breeze to blow over him, just as he did when it had rained.
“Please know, I will never stop trying to exonerate you, Nia. You have my word. If it’s the last thing I do before I…” He clipped his tongue. Die. “You will have the peace and the future you rightfully deserve. I shall make it so. My word is my bond.”
As the winds picked up speed, something finally broke in Ari. Tears escaped his closed lids, but he kept his head lowered. Hidden. “I…don’t want to die, Nia,” he said at last, and the bold confession prompted more tears to flow down his cheek. “I don’t want to leave you, or you to leave me. I want us both to be well, and liberated, for the pursuit of a brighter tomorrow.” Soon, his silent tears evolved into gentle, uncontrollable weeping. “I don’t want to die,” he repeated, more frantically than before. “But I am…and I don’t think…I will make it.” As if to prove his point, his hands, clinging so tightly to the balcony, turned to solid stone.
Always striving towards open-mindedness and understanding, Alster listened to Nia’s responses to Isidor’s questions without judgement—and perhaps with a bit of piqued curiosity. Sure, he had interacted with other worlds before, and had even traveled to them, but never had he conceived a method of accessing realities in close parallel to his own. The fact that the Night Garden had the power to reverse the positions of otherworld Nia and their Nia was nothing short of miraculous. Not to mention, Tivia Rigas, an older, jaded version of her, possessed the ability to embark on such parallel travel on her own?
His intrigue and curiosity mounted when this other Nia regaled them of the history from her world, a history so jarringly similar but for a few critical choices, mostly on her end. He didn’t want to interrupt her when Isidor already asked enough leading questions to keep her speaking, but concern tugged on his face as he watched her ever-trembling hands, which complemented the rhythm of her ever-warbling aura, so sharp and frenetic and in need of healing. Despite her poor decision-making, he couldn’t help but sympathize with her plight precisely because of how the whole ordeal had left her so guilty and regretful. She acknowledged her mistakes through body language alone, prompting him to pay better heed to her struggles and cries for help concerning not only herself, but her world’s version of Ari, who appeared worryingly close to death. Isidor might have had some trouble grasping this other Nia as a woman deserving of compassion, but Alster was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, especially when she had the backing of Tivia, who he trusted in matters involving cosmic balance.
“And I would like to see you succeed, Nia,” he said, rising up in his seat and resting his hands on his lap placidly, projecting a calm he hoped might reach her wounded, careworn soul. “Not only for Ari’s sake, but for your own. I’ll help where I can, to make this future a possibility for you, but I can only offer guidance. The rest is up to you.”
At that moment, Tivia materialized from her vantage point on the chair opposite them, making her presence known to Nia as if to say, “Hurry it up!” Nia did not take kindly to her cajoling and said as much, to which Tivia passed her a dead-eyed look. “Right. Shit timing for you. Sorry for caring.” However, when Nia broached the topic of her unsavory behavior to Isidor, his dismissive reply sent a flinch through her shoulders, a reaction she tried to hide by rubbing her arms as though warding off a sudden chill. Still, the exchange seemed to silence her, and her gaze drifted elsewhere for the duration of their conversation. While Alster wanted to address the star-seer’s well-being, he thought better of it. After all, she warned him and Isidor about the dangers of learning too much about denizens from worlds far too close to their own in similitude.
“Why would I slight my cousin, and in front of her face, no less?” Shelving his concern for Nia, Alster opted to defend Tivia, all Tivia’s, he presumed, if ‘cousin’ co-opted both versions of her. “Whatever grief she’s caused you in the other world, I ask you to keep it to yourself,” his voice was firm, the closest he reached to outright chastising Nia for the very behavior she’d directed to the accused. “Isidor’s right; let’s stay on topic.” Reaching for his goblet of water, he took a long, revitalizing sip, ruminating on his next words. “Learning of my process won’t aid you, and I can’t say for certain what conclusions the Alster of your world has already made. But my role was to siphon away the loose ends of Ari’s curse, the parts that had already unknotted and unraveled. Whatever I could find, I pruned and trimmed, effectively lessening the burden of the elements you would need to convert into common virus cell structures, and mitigating the severity of said virus to better aid in Ari’s recovery. I don’t know how far you and your team have advanced in terms of the procedure and its necessary preparations, but,” he sighed, gesturing to Isidor, “it remains a mystery to us, how you, rather, our Nia awoke. None could reach her. No Gardeners, no Ari, Isidor, nor I, not even with my ability to access the subconscious mind. She was effectively dead, held in limbo by the sustaining energies of the Night Garden, effectively stuck in a vegetative state too advanced to counteract. And then one day…she woke up, fully aware and revitalized. Apparently, the Night Garden had a few more miracles left in it. That’s my conjecture, at least, but we’ve reached few other conclusions.”
“I’m sorry,” he deposited his empty goblet on the table and stood from the settee alongside Isidor, “but that’s all the information we could provide you. Fortunately, Isidor kept his notes in Nia’s—our Nia’s—office here in the villa, so it’s just a matter of waiting a few more moments before we fetch them. Please hold off until then. We’ll be right back.” Eagerly following Isidor out the door, Alster left Nia and Tivia to stew, alone in the parlor, in awkward silence. Shaking off the aftereffects of her brief fugue, Tivia twisted in her seat, eyeing Nia not with disdain, but with thoughtfulness.
“You’re going to have to trust me, Nia. However much you despise my methods, or my shit timing, or my aggravating presence,” she rolled, trying to keep her tongue as civil as possible, “I don’t hate you, for what it’s worth. I’m finding it difficult to like you, but none of it is borne in hatred. I’ve hardly given you a passing thought over what happened between you and Isidor during the last twenty-five years. Believe me, I had way more important things to worry about than something so insignificant. You may not agree with my methods, or think me mad for my prognostications of certain doom, but…” her brow softened, “I’m trying to help you. Not only am I invested in saving this world, and ours, and Ari, believe it or not, I also don’t…” she hesitated, “want you to go through what I did. How I wanted someone to come for me,” she stared out the window, her one eye distant, faraway, “but no one…no one did. Not until it was too late to change fate. The worst part of it is, I have no one to blame but myself. Because…how I ended up in that other world…like you, I made a wish. A desperate, desperate wish. An idiotic, moronic, unfathomably stupid wish.” She ground her teeth, almost biting her tongue in the process. “I was hurting, so I wished to be done with our world. To go elsewhere. Somewhere I would belong…and be loved. The stars heard my plea, and delivered. Oh did they deliver.” She scoffed, and about ended her confession there, but as she appraised Nia, a surge of something primal inflated her lungs with the suffocating need to tell her story to someone who might understand. And sadly, Nia’s specific circumstances lent her as the perfect candidate. Perhaps the only candidate.
“In the world where I ended up, so many people were dying. Elespeth was in a coma. You died. Ari died. Hadwin died. And I…” her fingernails dug into the arms of her chair. “I brought about Teselin’s downfall…all to save Isidor’s life. That was my fatal mistake. An otherworlder made such an enormous, impossible-to-ignore impact, and everything fell spectacularly out of joint…eventually. Decades down the line. But before that inevitable end,” she sighed, looking wistfully at the ceiling, “I had a few good years. That world’s Isidor fell in love with me, and I, him, much as I tried to resist forming deep ties with anyone there, and, well,” she looked to her left hand, and the bare finger where no ring rested, “…I became Lady Canaveris, and ruled this very villa with him. In the end, I got my stupid wish. Love and belonging. But it cost…everything.”
“So believe me,” she met Nia’s eyes, her own misty and overbright, “I understand. I understand your raw desperation, because it carries the same damn tune as mine. But we can’t stay here any longer. The answers aren’t here at all. They were never here. I was just humoring you…and myself,” she sighed. “Whatever it took to earn your cooperation—because none of this is going to work if I have to use force. Do I have it now? Your cooperation?” Though deaf, she sensed the cracking of her voice, the tremulous butterfly flutter of downbeats and upbeats trapped in her vocal cords. “Or do I have to spill my guts along with my heart, too?”
Alcohol-induced malaise… when she had only had one drink the night before? The Nia of an alternate world wondered what kind of pit her counterpart had dug herself into, that that would be the assumption everyone would make about her health. But for now, it was safest just to play along. “Sorry to worry you… but I promise, I’m fine. You should know how resourceful a Master Alchemist can be.”
Whomever had Ari’s other arm was not Galena; this Nia was not familiar with the earth mage’s golem attendant in this world, but she didn’t look as kindly at her as Galend did in her world. She seemed harder, more reserved, and had an air of having a will of her own that perhaps even Ari wasn’t aware of. She only hoped this golem didn’t sense the difference in her: with any luck, she was similar enough to this world’s Nia Ardane that she wouldn’t come across as particularly suspicious.
As they made their way outside, and Ari repositioned himself to lean on the railing of the curved bridge that overlooked a tranquil pond. She had no idea what he was apologizing for, or what had happened between him and the other Nia, and she couldn’t ask, but whatever had transpired had left the Canaveris lord remorseful and down. She hadn’t seen her own Ari appear so defeated in… well, she couldn’t remember the last time. “Hey, what happened… I mean, that then. And this is now--not a whole new day, exactly, considering it isn’t even day, but… it’s in the past.” She tried her damndest to shrug it off, whatever had him feeling so guilty. “Don’t worry about me, hm? I don’t want you to feel like this. I don’t need anyone’s approval, particularly not this kingdom’s, to feel happy. I just need you. And the future I want… is one with you.”
Nia wasn’t sad; that wasn’t the sentiment that gripped her by the heart, watching Ari despair beneath a smattering of stars. She was afraid… because he didn’t seem to hear her. Ari looked and felt so worn and weary, and even if he wasn’t her Ari, she was no less terrified that something terrible was about to happen that she--or some rendition of her--was responsible for it. “Don’t worry about anything--alright? I don’t need you to make the world love me or change what’s in people’s hearts about me. I just want you to ma--”
The Master Alchemist very narrowly avoided drawing a lot of suspicion to herself. Her ring finger was bare; this Ari had never proposed to his Nia. I just want you to marry me. She couldn’t speak for the other Nia, but a part of her whole-heartedly believed that her otherworldly counterpart wished for nothing more than a lifelong union with the man she loved. “I just want you,” she amended after a pause, “at your very best. But if we’re to get there, and remove this curse, you need to look after yourself, yeah? You need sleep… Ari? Are you alright?”
He was crying; only a little, at first, but then the tears continued to flow as he confined his deepest fear. “Ari… Ari, listen.” She took his face in her hands and wiped his tears. “Listen to me! You won’t die--do you really think I would let that happen!?”
She had never seen petrification take over his body so fast: the way his hands turned to stone, as solid as the railing they grasped, startled Nia into immediate action. It had been some time since she’d had to do this, but she’d never forgotten. “Calm down, Ari! You need to calm down. You’re going to be fine…” Ari’s golem seemed adequately acquainted with such a crisis and knew what to do without being asked. She placed a small blade in Nia’s hand to draw Ari’s blood and trade its organic life force with the stone that had overtaken his hands. This was a bad flare up; at first, it was like the stone wouldn’t give. As bits of flesh began to appear where the stone slowly crumbled away, Nia wasn’t yet able to even free his hands from the railing. “You’ll have to forgive me… this can be rebuilt.” Without asking permission, she moved her attention from his hands, focused on the railing, and chunks of stone began to come away on her fingers until Ari’s hands were unstuck, but not free of the railing. Bits of stone still clung to his fingers and palms, and the smooth railing, as a result, was left terribly maimed.
Now with full access to his hands, Nia was able to buff away the large chunks that were not part of his individual form, and from there, slowly returned those hands to warm flesh, blood, and bone. It took far longer than she remembered… Her Ari’s curse had never progressed to a point where it had gotten so aggressive. “...let’s get you back to bed. What would make me happy right now, Ari, is having you rest… can you do that for me?”
It was her own fault for not carefully sussing out how relationships worked out in this alternate world. Where she came from, Tivia had caused both Isidor and Alster a good deal of grief with her disappearance. But she had no clue how the Tivia of this world chose to exist, or what relationships she harboured, and consequently realized her slip-up when Alster’s tune shifted from mercifully supportive to less so when she questioned the Star Seer’s integrity as a person. She had to be more careful, lest she alienate the only people in this room who were able to help her. “Right--sorry. I have no idea how relationships work around here, or what’s the same and what’s different. I’m learning it all as I go along.” The Ardane woman quickly amended, fearing that one rogue comment would alienate the two people she needed the most right now. “But, there’s got to be more to that miracle you all pulled off aside from… luck. You’re too good for that--all of you have beaten the odds, before, and it had nothing to do with luck.”
“You’re partially right. I don’t believe luck has ever been on my side,” Isidor commented, and while he attempted to filter emotion from his voice, it was impossible not to detect that even this Isidor had been hurt--perhaps differently from the one she knew, but no less, hurt. “But I can’t imagine that whatever version of me resides in your world would think differently than I do. I can only imagine we would have the same plan… but, if it will reassure you, I will retrieve my notes, and you can peruse them at your leisure.”
“Thank you. Thank you, seriously, everything, anything you can do--it’s better than nothing.” Nia sighed in great relief that both Alster and Isidor opted to cooperate and help her, but as they left to retrieve Isidor’s notes, what Alster had mentioned nauseated her a little: that there was no reason she--or the other version of her--should have ever woken up. The fact they couldn’t explain it meant that that part, at least, had been up to luck and the will of the Night Garden. And there was no guarantee that that same luck would follow her back to her world, or that the Night Garden there would deem her worthy enough to ever awaken…
There was too much on her mind to cater to Tivia’s whims, so when the Star Seer spoke up again, the Master Alchemist only had enough stamina left to be frank. “Tivia, I don’t know how to put this delicately… so I won’t. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of me. Love me or hate me or be indifferent, you threw stones first.” And all because she had made a terrible mistake, one that had compromised her friendship with Isidor indefinitely. Obviously, the Nia of this universe hadn’t been dumb--or lonely--enough to make the same mistake. And yet… she wasn’t the only one that had made a grave mistake. As she listened to Tivia recount what she had experienced in her own alternate reality which, while it had only spanned a few months in their own word, had spanned years elsewhere. So Tivia had also made a similar plea to the universe, and the universe had responded. Except, it had brought her to a world without a counterpart… and she had made that world her own, for quite some time. Until it became sadder than the world she had left behind…
“...I’m sorry, Tivia. For what you had to go through. I mean it.” Nia only spoke again when she was sure the Rigas woman had finished, giving the courtesy of hearing her out since she had allowed her to remain here just long enough to gather the information she’d need to bring back to her world and save Ari. “I don’t diminish what you’ve been through; it couldn’t have been easy, and I’m in no place to make judgments, considering we both ended up making the same wish. But that’s where the similarity ends, because contrary to what you seem to believe, I have no intention to stay here. The Ari in this world doesn’t need saving… and he’s engaged to a far better version of me than I can even pretend to be.” Her brown eyes drifted to the gardens beyond the window to the ring on her finger that wasn’t intended for this otherworldly Nia in a place where she didn’t belong; she felt guilty just wearing it on her finger. “I want to go back, but… I think you’re wrong. I’m here for a reason, and that reason is to find out how to save Ari. The details that I wouldn’t otherwise know. I promise, when I find what I need, I’ll return with you, but not until then.”
She might not have been on the best terms with Tivia, but neither was she trying to alienate the Star Seer. Tivia didn’t have to share what she did with her; her own guilt and vulnerabilities. But she did, as a means to try and demonstrate that they were not so different. “...I can’t assume that things haven’t been difficult for you, too. You’ve been burned, you can hardly hear, and you developed insane powers that you never asked for. But why… Why run away to be with another Isidor when you knew full well when you already have one that has been waiting for you to come back, all this time?” Nia looked away from the window and fixed her gaze on Tivia, with confusion and a little bit of exasperation. “It’s not the same for you, Tivia. You don’t have a kingdom who despises you. And you’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. You could be happy with Isidor--if you would let yourself be happy. I know he’d be happy, too…”
Before Tivia could reply, Isidor and Alster returned, with the former carrying a leather bound tome that must have contained the notes he had taken on the procedure to save Ari’s life. “Everything, from the planning stage, to what I wrote after the execution of it all, can be found in here.” The Kristeva alchemist explained to Nia as he handed her the heavy book. “You have my permission to take it with you, if you so desire. If you think it will help.”
“As much as I want to… I’m not sure how it will fuck up either your world or mine, if I take something to a dimension where it doesn’t belong.” Nia sighed, and glanced at Tivia who appeared to have the same concerns. “Just give me a few minutes--I’ve already seen the notes the Isidor of my time has compiled. If I can just compare them to what I already know…”
Taking the book from Isidor’s hands rather clumsily (it was heavier than it looked), Nia leafed through the pages, and was astonished to find how familiar the first handful of pages looked. Almost verbatim with regard to what the Isidor in her world had written. But in the pages beyond, the majority of what this Isidor had recorded were purely observations and adaptations made as she and Ari recovered from the procedure. Input and updates on their vitals, and lots of details about what had been attempted to pull the other Nia from her slumber, when the Ari of this world had awoken--weak but stable--less than twenty-four hours later. “I need more than this.” The Ardane woman said at last, flipping back through the initial pages, thinking there was something she must have missed. “It’s all stuff I already know--what we’re already planning to do. What happened during the procedure? Did you tweak anything? What did the other Nia do--and did it deviate at all from the original plan?”
“Neither myself nor Alster can comment on Nia’s… our Nia’s role in this.” Isidor replied, with a repressed air of agitation. Whatever kinship he felt with the Nia who was missing clearly no longer applied to the Nia who was there. “Only she can speak to that. To our knowledge, she never deviated from what was initially planned.”
“You’re sure? I just… I feel like there should be more.” Was Tivia right? Was there really no answer to Ari’s curse… because they had already found it? So what did it come down to, then? Pure luck? Dread stirred in the Ardane woman’s stomach. If the answers lay with this world’s Nia, who she would never meet… then what did that mean for her? “There… there has to be something else I’m missing. What condition was Ari in at the time? Or the other Nia, for that matter? The more I know--”
Isidor lifted a hand to interrupt her. “What do those details matter, if you say you have no time? The best vice that anyone can give you is to work with what you have. And we hope that your outcome will be the same as ours. Worry about what you can control, because there will always be variables beyond your reach, Nia Ardane.” Noting the desperation in her eyes, the way her hands hadn’t ceased trembling, must have struck a soft spot with Isidor, as his face softened and he added, “I can tell you this much: both Ari and Nia proceeded without a shadow of a doubt in their hearts that they would succeed. Take that how you will, but if ever you pursue something great with uncertainty, you shouldn’t be surprised when you don’t find success.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted; far from it, she knew no more than when she had arrived. Was I wrong? Was there really no reason for me being here, after all? Tivia was right; time was running out, and neither of them knew the status of the Nia who had temporarily replaced her, or the Ari they had left behind. There was nothing left for her to learn, here.
“...then… I guess the only thing left is to get back home. And get your Nia back to you.” Nia closed the book and handed it back to Isidor. “Thanks for your help. Sorry I’m not the Nia you guys expected, but… this was nice. Walking around in the open for the first time without being hunted or despised--good thing I’m leaving now, or I might start actually getting used to it!” She laughed sardonically, and moved to exit the parlor without saying goodbye. It didn’t really feel like ‘goodbye’ when she would be seeing the same people (well… mostly) in her own world. “You coming?” The Ardane woman called to Tivia over her shoulder. “I mean… not like I’m getting anywhere meaningful without you.”
As Tivia delivered a vague overview of how she spent her long years gone, she tilted her head to the ceiling and the familiar whorl patterns carved into the plaster. Funny how the Canaveris villa she later helped rule in the other world boasted the exact same design, down to the embroidered patterns in the parlor chairs. She ran a delicate finger over the periwinkle blossoms embedded in the fabric, following each tightly-woven strand as though delineating each one from the other was the key to obliterating her memories and recovering a foothold on reality. Closing her one eye, she stamped her feet and slid her hands down her lap, breathing out the images dancing across her vision that she wanted so desperately gone. But she couldn’t very well purge them when the topic persisted, could she? A topic she stupidly broached, as if it would have any bearing on Nia’s attitude towards her. As expected, she received pity, and yet…the pity wasn’t absent of authenticity. But it only reached so far, given how, if all went well, Nia would be spared decades of coping in an inescapable world whose destructive end she created. Forget Teselin’s potential as a world-destroyer. Tivia had ended a world. Millions of lives, gone, in a snap, and it all started because of a selfish wish to belong when her home world had offered a place of belonging all along. The universe possessed a cruel sense of humor, doling out the harshest of existential lessons to an emotionally immature young woman. Well, she had learned her lesson, all right. She would never wish again. Never would believe the opportunity to explore a new world carried gestures of benevolence and not a sadistic exercise in self-empowerment. What you needed has been in front of you this whole time, or some bunk. She didn’t entirely prescribe to the ‘lesson,’ but the long and convoluted venture at least opened her to the meaningless of existence. Everything she’d worked hard to accomplish and build for over two decades—null. Void. Wiped completely clean.
Pity, it turned out, went both ways. Tivia pitied Nia for so hopelessly believing this route into another world provided some serendipitous solution and not a series of gut punches, one more intense than the other. Foolish, foolish, foolish, it seethed, as rock-hard knuckles made contact with flesh. To think, you truly believed you traded your fate for another. Nia was little better, for believing her answers could be found elsewhere.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Tivia said under her breath, half acknowledging Nia while the other half concentrated on the wall behind her head. “I never intended to fall in love with the other world’s Isidor. I resisted so much, and for so, so long. But now that I’m back home, I…I’m not interested.” She tried not to cringe by how unconvincing she sounded. “He’s not the Isidor I made a life with, so…it won’t happen.” Seeing her opportunity for an out, she affixed one eye on Nia. “Much as you claim to not care about what other people think of you, take this as a small consolation. The Galeyn of our world and the people residing in it…they don’t despise you as much as you believe. They’re confused, and hurting, but their murderous rage has long passed, and others are making damn well certain you’re credited for your generous deeds. But I’m not a reliable source of information, so…what do I know?” She gave a nonchalant shrug just as Isidor and Alster returned to the parlor, a book of notes tucked under the former’s arm. Now with Isidor firmly on her mind, she tilted her blind eye in his direction, blotting him from view. She didn’t need to read his lips to parse the turn the conversation took—namely, how the notes in his book unsurprisingly revealed no helpful hints for Nia to take home.
Hovering at her limit, Tivia waited for the predictable conversation to reach its natural end before standing in tandem with Nia, inferring so by the nonverbal gestures shared by all. “Yes, we must be going. But before we do,” she cast her attention on Alster, “I might not be able to pass a message along to my world’s Alster without the use of my star seer abilities, but if you could ask your Tivia—it wouldn’t be wise for the two of us to meet, you understand—ask your Tivia to relay this to my world’s Alster. First, she will need this to open a connection to him.” She handed him an indigo-colored, heart-shaped leaf, curling around the edges from losing its source of life. “Give this to her. It’s the safest thing I can think to keep in this world, as long as it’s properly destroyed afterwards. With this, she’ll be able to establish a link to the other Alster. Now, here is the message; ‘Go to the stream with Nia at the tenth morning bell. Get into position by the water’s edge. Dip the appropriate leaf into the stream—and wait.’ Have your Tivia describe this leaf in exact detail. Down to the size, the ridges, the specific hue and dendritic patterns. The other Alster will need this information in order to deliver your Nia home. Do you understand what must be done?”
Alster, plucking the dainty leaf by the stem, responded with a solemn nod of his head. “Yes, Tivia, I do. I’ll see to it that I handle this immediately.”
“Good.” Stepping away from Alster (and Isidor, who lingered close, but still lingered in her blind spot), Tivia rejoined Nia by the doorway. “I trust that you will.”
“If you require any additional help, I suspect you know where to find me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, but I believe we have this well in hand.” For him, she trickled out the faintest of reassuring smiles. “If all goes as it should, your Nia will return to you in several hours’ time. I’ll,” she flashed Isidor an accidental glance and instantly regretted it. “I’ll…,” she swallowed, regaining her momentum, “make sure of it.”
With a nod of farewell, she took Nia by the arm and gently ushered her out of the parlor and into an empty chamber across the hallway. “I believe you’ve traveled this way once before.” She gripped both hands in a tight hold over her shoulders and pulled her close. “Not a trick unique to just Alster. Hold on. Close your eyes if you must, but do not let go. We’ll be at the Night Garden in a wink.”
In an identical method to Alster, Tivia opened the air behind them, plunged into the ether-realms with her piggybacking partner, and plunged back out a second later, as though surfacing from an abyssal, fathomless ocean. Indeed, they had arrived in the Night Garden, an almost exact facsimile of the one found in their world, but for an incriminating dead patch on the far end of their vantage point, an unignorable area of decay blighting an otherwise pristine garden.
“Teselin,” Tivia explained with a drop of a wistful sigh, and didn’t elaborate any further. “There’s one last thing we must do before we head to the stream,” she carried on, hardly losing a beat—not like she could afford to. “I wanted to do everything last night. Our rate of success increases exponentially when the Night Garden is at its full power.” She gave Nia an exasperated look, but didn’t linger on the subject of where she aimed some of the blame. “But…we simply can’t waste any more time here. Waiting until nightfall would be irresponsible. Now,” she chose a direction at random and bade Nia follow, purposely ignoring the dead bramble in the distance, “we must first find the Gardener who prescribed you those leaves and get her to prescribe you some more. In this world, she’s here, too. Locque.” She checked Nia’s expression for comprehension. “If you weren’t already aware, the ghost of your former employer is partially responsible for landing you in this position, and she’ll be responsible for leading you out—just as long as you approach her the same as your drunk self had done, last night. If you can remember what it was you actually said. And let’s hope to the heavens that you do.” To avoid any curious Gardeners or other people of the palace who might recognize them, she swerved down a seldom-traversed branch path, nothing more than a narrow strip of lightly-trodden earth. “As far as I know, she can be found during the day, but it will take more astute observation on our part. So…let’s get started.”
He had gone too far.
What began as a smattering of tears and an impromptu admittance had spiraled so wildly out of control that Ari hadn’t the self-restraint to rescind the excessive outpouring of his emotions before his hands had paid the price for his vulnerability. Seeing what mess of self-destruction he’d wrought upon himself almost prompted a reactive flare-up, but he combatted the urge in time by concentrating on the knife that Laz placed into Nia’s hand and the sharp, tiny prick of the steel’s edge on his arm. Muted and shamed, he passively watched Nia’s progress, not trusting himself to spout a word, even one of apology, for fear of another costly—or fatal—outburst.
Although plagued with poor vision and a sluggish mind, he slowly registered that Nia‘s stone-reversion process…was taking longer than usual. Not from any error on her part, but because his curse had advanced to the degree at which his hands had petrified into solid stone, and required more diligent effort to revert back to flesh.
He didn’t even notice when she’d removed his hands from the railing, or the current condition of the smooth, diligent sculpt-work, his failing eyes only following each expert swipe and the gradual testing of his digital muscles. By the end of the tedious procedure, Ari was able to enjoy the full range of motion in his hands—for a precious, scant moment. After the fourth experimental furling of his fingers, the residual stiffness returned, along with the flaky, crystalline layer of stone residue.
“My deepest apologies, Nia. It seems I am rife with nothing but regrets,” he managed to say after a lengthy pause, dropping his hands to his sides and out of sight. “I hadn’t intended on worsening your evening. Surely, you do not deserve to suffer my whining. That…was entirely uncouth of me. As penance, I shall do what you say.” Wiping away the remainder of his tears with the back of his arm, he turned to Laz, bowing to her like a supplicant that had lost everything, pride included. “I humbly ask that you carry me to my bedchambers. Nia,” he craned his head over his shoulder, best as his muscles could manage, but didn’t meet her gaze, “you may return to the guest room. I’ve inconvenienced you enough and I…might wish to be alone, for a while. You are welcome to join me later tonight, if it pleases you. …Goodnight.”
Easily hauling the disgraced Canaveris lord off his feet, Laz, who affixed Nia a suspicious glare, mumbled a halfhearted goodnight before returning to the villa, leaving her alone on the partially-mangled bridge.
Once Nia returned to the room that operated as her temporary bedchambers, Alster was first on his feet, his expression a mix of anxiety and excitement.
“How did it go?” Apparently, not well at all. Nia briefly recounted Ari’s breakdown and the nasty flare-up that followed, one of the worst to date. “The stone penetrated every layer of flesh, muscle, and bone? Veins and arteries, too? That’s,” he exchanged a dire look with Isidor, “not good at all. But he’s stable now, right?” For now, was the general consensus.
“Despite…what happened, I have a bit of hopeful news to share. Earlier, I received a message from the Tivia of your world,” he said, rubbing the temple where the star-screeching correspondence left him nursing an insidious headache. “We’re to take you to the stream come morning. At the tenth bell, to be precise. She wants you to dip this leaf,” he raised the specimen for her to see, smooth-ridged with symmetrical, v-shaped segmentations, “into the area of water where we found you, and…wait for something to happen, I suppose. Dawn isn’t far off, so it’s best to leave for the Night Garden shortly, to be safe. Isidor,” he regarded the overwhelmed Master Alchemist, “I recommend that you stay here to keep an eye on Ari in case he needs any emergency treatment.”
However, their plans were put into wild disarray when, at dawn, Laz burst into the room, dismissing her brief confusion upon noticing Alster’s unsanctioned presence. “It’s Ari,” she announced, gripping the doorframe for support. “I took him to bed and I thought little of it when he fell asleep. But when I checked in on him an hour later, not only had the flare-up on his hands returned, but…I felt something in our psychic connection…change. He’s growing distant from me, detaching, or drifting.” Her eyebrows furrowed with a twisted pain unlike any had ever witnessed on the stoic golem. “I…no longer feel him there, and I always feel him, even when he’s asleep. I tried to wake him, to see if that would solve the problem…and he won’t awaken at all! No matter how much I tried, he’s…he’s unresponsive. All of you,” she traded in her doldrums for authoritative flair, “you’re coming with me. Between the three of you, you’re bound to figure out a solution!” Or else, came the threatening implication.
As they left this strange world’s Isidor and Alster, Nia couldn’t deny the melancholy that followed her out of the parlor at Tivia’s guidance. None of this had ever been meant for her, and for all there was good in this world, it was still far from ideal in that it lacked both Teselin and Hadwin, at least. But that feeling of instant camaraderie with Isidor, and the way Galeyn reached out to her like she had done anything as worthy as Alster Rigas to deserve praise… It had been so intoxicating, near overwhelming. She wouldn’t ever get this sort of treatment in her own world, no matter how many miracles she managed to pull off. A part of her was going to miss walking in the shoes of this more deserving Nia Ardane… but her world, and her Ari, needed her more. In fact, her Ari’s life depended on her return. It was non-negotiable when the Ari here was already alive and well and living his best life.
“Why lie about having feelings for Isidor?” She asked the Star Seer, as a means to distract herself from that pang of disappointment, given the potential bright life she was leaving behind. “It’s not my business, I know, but you could have that happiness if you let yourself have it, Tivia. Isidor’s only ever had eyes for you. Hasn’t changed; I don’t think it ever will. I know it’s none of my damn business, but… I think you could really be happy--in the way you want to be--if you’d let yourself.”
While their only direct interaction aside from now had been… less than friendly, Nia had truthfully never held ill will toward Alster’s cousin. It would be nice to see Isidor slightly more uplifted, and loads more fulfilled. It was such a simple solution where everyone could be happy, and yet Tivia and Isidor both refused to acknowledge it. If she weren’t already dealing with a crisis, she might have pondered a way to get the two of them into the same room together long enough for them to work out their issues.
Weathering the strange feeling of teleportation (it was not something she thought she would ever grow used to), regret for not accompanying the Star Seer when she had initially asked crept in. “Yeah… I’m sorry, okay? Sorry that I desperately believed there was something here that I needed to find out to save Ari. Not everyday you find yourself in some… some parallel reality.” Nia huffed a sigh, feeling both guilty and foolish that she hadn’t gone with Tivia the night before. “But, hey, are you not a celestial mage? Can you not--I dunno, make it night? Aren’t the skies your jurisdiction?” Evidently, at the look Tivia flashed her, that assessment was inaccurate. “Nevermind. Wait--wait, hold on. So you’re telling me… that Gardener that’s responsible for me being here…” Locque? Was it true? But it looked, acted, nothing like the woman she thought she had known! That Gardener had been so young and so unfamiliar… Was she really the person that Nia had been trying to see in the tyrannical witch for over a year?
But the question was… how accurately could she replicate her encounter with the Gardener from the other night? “I… was pretty drunk. I don’t remember all the details of what went down.” The Master Alchemist confessed. “I just remember I was crying a lot… and then she handed me this blue leaf. Told me to go to a stream near the very outskirts of the Night Garden, so I did… and that’s all I remember. I don’t know if I can replicate what I did or said to convince her she needed to help me… and how do we even find her?” Nia looked to and fro, but she and Tivia were alone where they stood in the Night Garden. “Is there a way to… summon her? Does she know who I am? How do…”
Nia trailed off at the sight of white robes in the near distance, glimpsed between some vibrant purple and orange vines climbing a copse of trees. Curious, and with no other leads, Nia made to follow the Gardener robes, stepping over glittering stones and delicate flowers that gently undulated where the sunlight hit them. When she caught up to the decidedly lost-looking young woman clad in white, the youthful features of her face made her pause awkwardly, even when the Gardener made eye contact. “Excuse me… I’m looking for someone. A man with a green-collared tunic… have you seen him?”
“...the man that you saved.” Nia spoke without thinking it through, but she didn’t need to. This girl was as familiar as she was foreign, and the Ardane woman couldn’t help but feel that she… knew her. Locque. This is the Locque I was hoping would come through, all this time… “That’s who you’re looking for, isn’t it? The man you broke the rules to save.”
“You know him… have you seen him?” Locque’s wide brown eyes illuminated with hope. “Please, tell me where he is--I must find him before the other Gardeners do. Please…”
But he’s dead. He’s been gone for over a century… how can you not know this? Nia didn’t know why this innocent version of the powerful summoner she had known did not recognize her, or why she was asking after someone who had died so long ago. But the truth wouldn’t benefit her, or anyone right now. Not when it was imperative she secure her help. “I’m sorry… I haven’t. You must care about him a lot… I’m also trying to find someone I care for. But he isn’t here, and I… I don’t think I can find him on my own. Even worse,” tears began to gather in Nia’s eyes. It was easy to act when it wasn’t an act at all. “If I don’t find him soon, I’m afraid his life might be in danger. I’m so sorry--I wish I could help you, but I am hardly able to help myself.”
Locque studied the Master Alchemist with wide brown eyes, considering her plight and the toll it was taking on her. But these circumstances were not the same as they had been the other night, when Nia had drunkenly despaired in the Night Garden… and then awoken in another world entirely. “I… I don’t know what the Night Garden can do to help someone in my situation--if it can do anything at all,” Nia continued, wondering if Tivia was right about the lack of darkness impacting the Garden’s ability to replicate what had happened the other night. “But… you’re a Gardener, aren’t you? If you could even just point me in the right direction…”
“The Night Garden has always been known to heal the ill and the injured; it is not a conduit for wish fulfillment.” Locque stated, matter-of-fact, as if it had been something she’d been trained to say time and again for frivolous requests. And for that, the Master Alchemist braced herself to be turned down… until the ghostly Gardener continued. “To my knowledge, inner pain cannot be cured or addressed, here, but… somehow, I can hear the Night Garden’s desire to reach out to you. Unlike anything I have heard before…”
Nowhere in the current vicinity was any sign of indigo-coloured leaves: green and orange and pink, yet no indigo, like the one that Nia had received prior to traveling through dimensions. Yet from the inside of her robe, the spectral form of young Locque produced that very specimen that was imperative in allowing her to return to the world where she belonged. “I am not sure why you need this, and I cannot tell you what to do with it to address your woes, aside from find the westmost stream bordering the Night Garden… but I feel as though this can help you.” Without hesitation, she placed the leaf into Nia’s palm. “I do hope you find what you are looking for.”
You too, Nia almost found herself saying, but thought better of it. Locque would never find the man she sought; he had likely passed on, ages ago, and she appeared to be stuck in this repetitive limbo. “...thank you,” she said after a contemplative pause. “Hey, you know the Night Garden better than I do… think there’s a chance it can help you find what--who--you’re looking for, as well?”
“Of course. I would like to believe it.” Locque clasped her hands in front of her and smiled, small and sad. “It’s why I won’t give up.”
The spectral remnants of a once terrifying witch wandered away without a goodbye, intent on finding a man who didn’t exist anymore, who she would never see again. But Nia had what she needed, so… there was no reason to be unhappy, was there? It wasn’t as though she could help the ghostly Gardener, and even if she could… Ari took priority.
“I don’t remember… what happened at the stream.” She confided as she turned to Tivia, holding the blue leaf delicately by its stem. “Only that I was just so… lost, and sad. At one point I must have just fallen asleep, and then I was here. I don’t know how I used this leaf to get here. But if you’ve got a better idea than me…” She faced west, as if hoping to somehow see the stream in that general direction through the thicket of trees, flowers, and bushes. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
“Please don’t apologize,” the Nia from an alternate world all but begged Ari, who was so much more fragile than the Ari she was used to. This was akin to living a nightmare, for all she had risked her life to avoid ever having to see the Canaveris lord like this. “You haven’t worsened anything. Just rest, alright? We are going to figure this out. We’ll do it together.”
She stood aside helplessly as the golem named Laz hauled Ari into her strong arms, and did not miss the way her violet eyes narrowed with cutting suspicion. At this point, Nia cared little for giving herself or the circumstances of her arrival away; even if this wasn’t her emergency, or her Ari, she was invested by virtue of who she was, and she couldn’t walk away.
But, she also couldn’t deal with this alone.
“His condition… I don’t understand how it’s progressed so much.” As soon as she returned to the guest bedroom, where Alster and Isidor had remained for near-future collaboration on how to deal with this predicament-turned-emergency. “His hands just flared up, and it took so long to revert and… and even then, something isn’t right with him. That stone was bone deep--bone deep. Every layer of tissues was petrified. He is unwell, and if you ask me, he needs help now, and I…” The Master Alchemist stared at her hands. They didn’t tremble, but at that moment, she both looked and felt incredibly… weak. Useless. “I… don’t know what to do. What do we do, Alster?”
Fortunately, it was not all bad news. There were evidently allies in her reality that were also actively working to resolve this mutual problem; how they were coordinating at all was nothing less of a miracle. “A leaf? I assume we’re talking about the same stream I had visited the other night?” She didn’t remember anything about a leaf, but then again, it was the Night Garden, and there was nowhere among its greenery that you wouldn’t encounter leaves of some sort. “I’m not going to pretend to understand how any of this happened, or what a leaf has to do with it, but if this will get me home and return your Nia Ardane as well--”
Just as she was about to agree to go check on Ari, they were interrupted by none other than Ari’s fiercely beautiful golem, whose eyes reflecting the wild panic in her voice. Nia’s heart skipped a beat before she even registered the golem’s words. Flare up returned… distant, detaching, drifting… won’t awaken…
“The Night Garden… We can’t do anything for him here. He needs to be transported to the Night Garden immediately, do you understand?” It was perhaps telling, betraying her identity as an outsider and not the Nia that Laz thought they knew, but Ari’s life and safety took priority over secrets. Even if Laz had it all figured out, surely the golem servant would understand that there simply wasn’t time to explain when the man to whom she dedicated her life and servitude was in jeopardy.
She didn’t wait for approval before dashing past Laz and out of the room, and didn’t stop until she reached Ari’s chambers. Sure enough, the Canaveris lord looked peacefully asleep, but when she touched his shoulders to gently shake him, something felt off. More off than she could identify, like… almost like the part of him that was struggling to stay human was exhausted to the point of going into a stasis just to stay alive. “Ari… you can’t do this! Wake up!” The tears gathered and spilled down her cheeks, onto his pillow. “I can’t save you again. I can’t do it again because I… I don’t know that either of us would survive…”
Whether Ari, Isidor, and Laz had followed in time for them to pick up on those words, Nia didn’t care. A carriage was already being prepared, servants were on alert, and Laz had no problem butting the Ardane woman out of the way to lift the Canaveris Lord into her arms. The small party filed out of the villa as quickly as their legs could allow, with Isidor--the least physically fit without argument--trailing behind and out of breath by the time they reached the two separate carriages that would take them to the Night Garden in minutes. As much as it likely appeared suspicious that Nia filed in with Isidor and Alster instead of with Ari, she really didn’t want to try the golem’s patience, and it was imperative she confer with the celestial mage and the other Master Alchemist.
“I don’t think I can help him. Because I already helped Ari--the Ari from my world, but you don’t understand… how much it took out of me.” She confessed, bouncing her legs nervously on the carriage floor. “It could be years, realistically, before I could safely do that again, if… if ever! Your Nia needs to be here. She needs to be the one to do it. So however that leaf is going to get me back to where I belong, and bring back the Nia that your Ari needs… we have to figure it out now. There’s no more time for trial and error. Just… tell me what I need to do.”
When the carriages pulled up to the Night Garden, everyone exited simultaneously, and Laz did not need to be instructed to take Ari immediately to the sanctuary. Although, she did pause when it became clear that the trio were not following. “I know this is going to sound absurd… but I’m not going to be of any use to Ari at the sanctuary right now. There’s something we need to do first,” Nia attempted to explain. “You have to trust us, but we need to go do something first. I promise, this is all for Ari’s sake. I don’t know how well you think you know me… but you need to know that his life is my priority. It always has been.”
As far as Tivia was concerned, she was done with discussing Isidor. Fortunately, she didn’t need to lambaste Nia with barbed threats to shut her mouth and worry about herself, when the situation naturally guided them in that direction. Upon arriving at the Night Garden, Tivia moved them along through thick understories of the variegated forest canopies, keeping her one eye in vigilant search of the ghostly Gardener who possessed the means of sending Nia home. “Harsh as I might be about our change in plans, Nia, I’m not entirely angry with you,” she admitted, figuring she’d cut the distraught but annoying woman some slack for holding out on her misplaced hope and thus mucking their chances for a near-guaranteed success. “As you’re now aware, I’ve been in your position. Not in your exact position, but…if I were, I would probably behave similarly. Forgive my frustration,” she pulled aside a spindly branch that dangled in front of their path, its papery wood festooned with curious, corkscrew-shaped leaves. “If you knew what I knew, you’d be frustrated all the time, too.”
But she daren’t elaborate because she couldn’t elaborate. As a star-seer, she was quickly learning what to reveal and what not to reveal in order to achieve her most desired results. Too many details dispensed to the wrong person at the worst emotional moment could create a monumental backlash that, at its worst, might fundamentally alter the threads of fate and send everyone spiraling toward an unmitigated disaster. For her, it simply wasn’t possible or wise to confide in anyone, no matter how trustworthy, about the multitudinous strings of prognostications she received from the stars every single day.
She was about to turn from Nia and resume scouring the Night Garden for their elusive—and dead—person of interest, but then the Master Alchemist opened her mouth and said something so mind-blowingly stupid that Tivia paused in her step to examine Nia’s expression for any hint of a joke. She wasn’t joking.
“Can I…make it night?” She repeated after Nia, affixing her a dumbfounded stare. “Did I read your lips correctly? I’m...a celestial mage, not a god. I might be able to reverse time to an extent, but not spin the entire world on its axis at my own whims. Not to mention the ridiculous amounts of mayhem such a grand gesture would unleash. You…you actually thought…”
Her speech deteriorated, giving way to a trickle of sound laughter. “You’re an idiot,” she said between amused spurts, but her insult was not borne of malice or of complete ridicule. “Maybe you’re worth keeping around after all. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.”
But she soon exchanged the mirth (enjoyed at Nia’s expense) for her requisite seriousness as the subject of Locque reentered the conversation. “Yes,” she nodded, batting aside yet another branch; this one resembling a giant feather with duo-hued downy plumes. “When Lilica used the Night Garden to purge Locque out of existence, not everything was destroyed. A very small, but pure aspect of her spirit remained, and now she roams the Night Garden, somehow maintaining her power as a summoner. There remains no lingering malice or darkness in this iteration of Locque. She appears as she once was, young and softhearted—and stuck firmly in one moment of her past, played repetitiously. We had this version of Locque in the otherworld where I lived these past few decades, too, and we—“ she paused, stamping her tongue. Do not share details, she chastised herself. Regardless of the parallel world, the similarities far outweighed the differences, and any discussion of its vicissitudes, however offhanded, stood the chance of reaping consequences in their world should someone try to replicate Tivia’s ‘ideas’ instead of organically reaching the conclusion on their own. She strung out a series of silent curses on her mouth. Endlessly frustrating, to obsessively monitor compromisable information!
“You don’t have to replicate the exchange word for word,” Tivia continued, ignoring her almost faux pas. “As long as you’re genuine, your emotional resonance will carry. You have to give her a reason to want to help you, and believe me; you have reasons aplenty.”
No sooner had they mentioned Locque than they spotted her, cream-colored robes offset against the vibrant flora of her surroundings. Granting the two some space to talk, Tivia stood aside, but kept close enough to follow the meter and shape of their moving lips in order to receive the gist of their discussion. When Nia rejoined Tivia, the stem of an indigo leaf pinched between her fingers heralded her victory. Seeing that vital component to their success now in their possession flared hope in Tivia as she grabbed Nia’s hand and led her directly to the stream.
“Everything I’ve done since I’ve arrived here has all been speculation,” she admitted, guiding Nia through the gradually narrowing pathway, dodging strange clusters of mushrooms that squirted ink whenever trammeled on by a clumsy foot. “To reach you here, I used the leaf as a locator, the water as an amplifier, and my own power to travel to the same world as you. But since my power is absent in this world, I’m unable to repeat the process for us. I can’t tell you how to proceed, but I can suggest that you dip the leaf into the water and bring your fervent desires to the surface. I daresay the water responds through emotion…so meditate on why you must return home. Think of Ari. Think of the people who care about you, who need you. If your intention is strong enough, the Night Garden will do the rest.”
Following the glimmer of water behind the copse of trees, they weaved through a wide opening, revealing an unobstructed view of the stream’s bank and the burbling, inviting water skittering over the sun-caught pebbles glistening on the bed. “Kneel wherever feels right,” Tivia instructed, gesturing to the banks that touched closest to the water. “Use your intuition—and don’t hold back on your emotion. Because we’re acting during the day, we’re going to need every advantage on our side to provide enough raw energy to send you home. The Alster of our world should have received my message and will do his part to make the transition easier for you and this world’s Nia. I will also do my part, wherever possible.” Overturning one hand, a spark of yellow etherea flared open on her palm like a star soaked by the morning sun. “I might not have access to my star seer abilities, but I can still contribute my portal-opening energy to lessen the burden of this still-recovering Night Garden. The last thing we want is to burn it out when,” she looked across the tops of the trees, no longer in sight of the wreckage, “this world’s Teselin weakened this place significantly. But don’t worry about that,” she hurried, realizing she said too much. “I’ll deal with the rest. You just worry about your intention.”
Everyone followed after Laz as her long legs dashed through the halls of the villa en route to Ari’s chambers. Inside, it was as the golem had described. Ari rested on his back, hands folded on his chest in a position of repose directly mimicking the dead. The hands in question were as Nia had described them earlier. Even without touching them, Alster noticed how solidly they appeared, like a small piece of statue had grafted itself onto where his hands should have been. Under usual circumstances, Ari’s flare-ups resembled more of an outer coating of plaster, a surface-level coating easily removed through the appropriate, alchemical means. But now…his hands really were bone deep. To confirm, Nia, who approached Ari’s bedside, attempted to revert his hands to their flesh and blood counterparts, but nothing happened. They resisted and rejected the change as if they no longer represented the organic vehicle that comprised Aristide Canaveris whole. His hands now belonged to the curse, to the petrifaction, and would eventually claim the rest of his body if they left him to his own devices. In short, it had begun. The end of Ari’s life.
“I second Nia’s motion,” Alster said, resting his hand upon Ari’s arm and reaching the same conclusions as she and Laz. The Canaveris lord’s famously larger-than-life presence had…disappeared, buried under an avalanche of the rock and stone comprising his premature grave. He doubted if he’d succeed in rescuing his consciousness from wherever the curse had banished it, but if he were to have any inkling of a chance, they would need to relocate him to the Night Garden. “We need to bring him to the sanctuary, and as soon as possible, before the sun rises!”
Laz didn’t need to be told twice. Carefully, she hoisted the unresponsive Ari into her arms and carted him to the front entrance of the villa, where two carriages were waiting.
They were not all that waited there.
Nico and Sylvie, eyes droopy from disrupted sleep, watched with widening confusion and horror as Laz scooped their uncle’s lifeless form into one of the open carriages.
“Laz? What’s…where are you taking uncle Ari?” Sylvie, clutching her chest, asked in a breaking whisper, denial warbling her voice. “He is…he is going to be alright, is he not?” Nico, in contrast, wore a somber yet unreadable expression, but said nothing, preferring his sister to do all the talking.
In place of Laz, who was too preoccupied with securing Ari comfortably on the seat, Alster turned to the Canaveris lord’s niece and nephew, his brow twisting as he searched for the right words to share. “Your uncle is going to have the best of care in the sanctuary. He is in no better hands, I assure you. We will make absolutely certain he returns here, curse-free and in the picture of health. You have my word we will do our level best for him, Sylvie. Nico.”
“I want to see him. I want to come,” Sylvie said, and Nico nodded his fervent agreement. “Alster, you must let us come!”
Alster lowered his head, sighing. “I’m afraid there’s no room for either of you in these carriages, and besides, it’s not up to me. It’s up to whoever is next in charge after Ari, and Nadira is currently at the palace, helming the observatory project.”
“That makes you in charge,” Nico spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the former lord of Stella D’Mare, and one-half of Galeyn’s guests of honor. Ultimately, it’s your decision.”
Before Alster could answer, a looming shadow eclipsed him in the dusky light of pre-dawn. “I’m in charge,” Laz said, scrutinizing the two willful teenagers. “Ari has made it so. A carriage will return for you after we arrive at the palace, but I should warn you; your uncle will not be waking up to greet you at this time, or in the near future. Keep this in mind.”
Sylvie, tears sparkling in her eyes, hugged her brother’s arm for comfort. “I…I don’t understand. He won’t be awakening? Nia,” she made contact with the Ardane Master Alchemist, who, instead of crouching into Ari’s carriage, was settling into one with Isidor, “why won’t he awaken? You were with him before. Why? Why has the curse advanced? What happened? Were you not supposed to keep him safe?”
“That’s enough, Sylvie,” Nico sent warning tones into her ear.
“He was so worried about you last night. That’s what Nico told me. You ran away, even when he said so many lovely things about you to the crowd, risking his own reputation to do so. He pushed his body to the limits to find you. He wouldn’t have, if you had remained with him, and kept him safe!” Hysterical, tears flumed out of her eyes, pouring down her cheeks and staining the shoulders of her night shift. “He is the only father we have left, Nia, and you were supposed to keep him safe!”
“Sylvie!”
“Why defend her, Nico?!” She rounded on her brother. “Did you not despise her before? What has changed?”
“Because you’re upset! We all are, but this isn’t the way to go about it!”
“Sylvie,” Alster elected for calm as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and met her frantic, distraught gaze. “Whatever happened in the past doesn’t matter now. What matters is that we’re going to save your uncle. Please continue to have faith. We could really use that right now. Will you keep lending us your support?”
Tearfully, Sylvie nodded, a hesitant, bobbing, half-convinced nod. Alster smiled, and removed his hand from her shoulder. “Thank you, Sylvie. We’ll see the two of you later, but first, please grant us some time and space to set up in the sanctuary before we allow visitors. Can you do that?” Again, she nodded. “We’ll see you later then, alright?”
Lest Sylvie change her mind and launch into another impassioned, yet valid tirade, Alster joined Isidor and Nia in the carriage as they set off from the villa, following after Laz and Ari. The trio sat in silence for a few minutes before Nia opted to break the lull.
“We’re not expecting you to heal him, Nia,” Alster said, leaning his still aching head against the cushioned wall of the swiftly traveling carriage. “This isn’t your world. I imagine there would be terrible ramifications were you the one you carry out the procedure in our Nia’s stead, and that’s even if you were able to perform it a second time. We’re with you. Getting you home, and getting our Nia back, is something about which we can all agree takes top priority.”
The two carriages reached the easternmost entrance to the Night Garden just shy of dawn, a small blessing, considering Ari’s worsening condition.
“The petrifaction has spread past his wrists,” Laz informed the trio as they peered in on Ari’s unconscious form, noticing, indeed, that the impenetrable gray-granite stone had completely encased his wrists and was steadily snaking down his forearms. “We must hurry if we—“
But the three of them interrupted to explain the necessity of first embarking on a far more important mission. One that was imperative to Ari’s survival. Laz’s eyes squinted again at Nia, by far the outlier of the three. “You’re not who you claim to be,” she said, the perpetual scowl on her face broadening into an even deeper scowl. “So if this quest of yours will return the person we need, then…go. Make haste. Ari will be waiting for you in the sanctuary.”
“This is all I know,” Alster explained to Nia as they and Isidor hastened back to the stream that started it all. “Tivia wants you to kneel by the stream and plunge this leaf,” he handed Nia the indigo specimen as described by the other world’s Tivia in her telepathic message, “into the water at the tenth bell. That’s all she said, but I would also suggest you think of home as you do this. It’s scarcely dawn, so we still have some time to devise a foolproof strategy to increase our odds of a successful transfer. Though, it sounds like our world’s Tivia has a handle on what to do, and I don’t want to complicate matters by adding my magic to the mix.”
“What’s all this about leaves and water and shit?” An infuriatingly familiar voice piped up upon their arrival at the stream’s edge. Alster cursed under his breath at the wretched timing as Hadwin Kavanagh emerged from behind a tree, acrid smoke streaming out of the pipe lodged in the corner of his mouth and his golden eyes glazed.
“Nothing,” Alster blurted, pretending the situation wasn’t as dire as it appeared, but that never fooled the fear-scrying eyes of the nosy faoladh, regardless of his sobriety, or lack thereof. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
Hadwin gave a lazy, uncoordinated shrug. “I figure I’ll sleep when I’m dead. So,” he tilted his head in curiosity, “why’re the three of you gallivanting in my spot? No one ever comes out this far, but here you are, mucking about in my prime territory. Kind of a rag-tag group if you ask me.” His languid gaze roved over to Nia, and as soon as their eyes met, his curiosity flared, flashing into intrigue. “What’s up? Looking at me as if you’ve seen a ghost. …Huh. It’s me, ain’t it? …I’m the ghost.”
As if they weren’t already in dire straits, the universe thought it prudent to introduce the half-mad wolf-man to a woman who believed him dead insofar as he was dead in her reality, hence forcing the already reality-compromised faoladh to confront his ongoing existential crisis. “Hadwin, can you do me a favor?” To salvage what little he could out of this borderline destructive encounter, Alster pointed in the direction of the palace. “Can you find Nadira Canaveris and tell her that her son’s in the sanctuary? She needs to be informed.”
That seemed to grab his attention. “What?!” He snapped back to Alster. “Fancypants is out of commission already?”
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that. The curse has begun to slowly petrify him whole. I’d love to go in person, but the three of us here are in the middle of something extremely important, so we’re going to need this space for a while.”
At that, Hadwin scoffed, moving the pipe stem from one side of the mouth to another. “So I’ll miss out on whatever the hell’s going on with Nia? Seriously, Ardane,” he wrinkled his nose at her, “you’re not you. It’s like you’re from another world or something. A better one, to boot.”
Dammit. He figured it out. “We’ll explain later. Just…go. Please? Think of it as a belated wedding wish.”
“…Fine.” Casting one last discerning look at Nia, Hadwin turned to leave. “But I’ll want all this fuckery explained to me later, you hear?” And with that, he disappeared behind the trees, heading in the direction of the palace.
“Great,” Alster said once the faoladh was out of earshot. “He already believes he’s dead and in hell. After tonight, he’ll have more reason to believe it’s true since technically it is…in your world. But,” he shook his head, “one problem at a time. Damage control comes later.” As they rounded the stream, Alster placed his feet on a patch of smooth, stone-free sandy bank that ran parallel to the water. “This is where we found you last night. It stands to reason that you should return to this very spot in the end.”
“Hey, I’m a Master Alchemist. Don't’ expect me to know shit about magic.” Nia furrowed her eyebrows at Tivia’s loud and infectious laughter, but she found it difficult to feel offended. Truthfully, it was the first time she had ever seen the star seer crack even a semblance of a smile. They might not like each other, but right now, they needed one another’s cooperation, and the Master Alchemist wasn’t so petty as to cut off her nose to spite her face when she wanted to right the wrong that the Night Garden and a ghostly Locque had unintentionally caused. What if Ari had already learned that the Nia he was seeing wasn’t his Nia? Would he be alright?
Her concern for the apparition of the summoner lingered at the back of her mind, where she shelved it to deal with at a later date, after obtaining the very leaf that had been bestowed upon her less than forty-eight hours ago. That was another issue for another day, and one she imagined she may end up tackling alone, for all the lack of compassion Galeyn had for the witch that had nearly ended the kingdom in less than a year after awakening from its spell. One thing at a time. Priority has to go to the living… to Ari.
She wasn’t sure what to expect, upon approaching the stream with a harmless and seemingly mundane little leaf. She couldn’t remember if she had passed out before this strange transition between worlds had taken place, or if falling asleep had been a part of it, but she was far from weary now, and certainly couldn’t fall asleep at will. “So that’s all it will take? Intention? I want to be back home now--right now. But I’m still here. If there’s a right way to use intention to trigger this catalyst, I have no fucking clue how I did it the first time… I can’t even remember how it happened.”
What had gone down that night? She was drunk, wandering, and… despairing. She was despairing, because at one point, even for a moment, she was convinced that she would never have the bright and carefree future with Ari that she desired. However, if she didn’t get back to him, and soon… then that would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The pressure had Nia’s heart pounding: what if she couldn’t will herself away? What if Tivia wasn’t able to manipulate the fabric of realities and help her return home, by way of this weakened Night Garden? “Fuck,” she breathed, kneeling at the water’s edge as she dipped that leaf into the clear stream. “This is my fault… this shouldn’t have happened. I…” Tears began to gather in her eyes, hot and frustrated. “I never wanted this. Not… this.”
The tears dripped from her lashes, obscuring her reflection on the water, such that her reflection resembled her, but only… resembled. It somehow wasn’t as identical to the face she’d grown to know as she’d have thought, but she didn’t think much of it until the ripples cleared, and something was still inexplicably off. “...huh?” Nia leaned closer, inspecting her face in the water, and let go of the leave as it waded into the stream without realizing it. It was her eyes, her nose, her eyebrows, her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw, her hair… and yet…
At this ungodly hour of the evening (though it was closer to morning, yet not yet dawn), no one expected many people to be wide awake at that hour, aside from the staff who had been roused to prepare carriages. Nia certainly hadn’t expected that they would find themselves stalled, even temporarily, but they hardly had time to close their carriage doors when their hasty retreat was spotted before they could be off without explanation. What was perhaps the worst part was precisely who had caught them before they could quietly resolve this issue (or at least begin to) under the cover of darkness.
In her world, a world currently free of stress and anguish, Nia Ardane had a glowing relationship with both Sylvie and Nico Canaveris, who had both been wary at first, but had warmed to her as soon as she had saved their uncle’s life. They filled the void of her forever lost little sister,and although she had yet to marry Ari, they were already family. But the Master Alchemist from another reality had no idea as to how the Nia of this world had built a relationship with the Canaveris lord’s nephew and niece. It was best to let Laz and Alster deal with their questions and placate them, and she wouldn’t have dared to step in… until young Sylvie refused to have her slip away without hearing her rather scathing opinion.
What happened between Ari and the Nia of this world…? She thought dismally, feeling the bite in each and every one of Sylvie’s words. Something terrible enough that that Nia is no longer here… and I can’t even pretend to understand. “I would never take Ari’s selflessness for granted, Sylvie. Or his love. And I am sorry if events from last evening upset you… but I need you to know that I am doing everything in my power to make things right. But I need you to have faith in me--and have faith in your uncle. Right now, he needs that more than anything… Can you do that? Even if you cannot forgive me…” Her eyes shifted between the distraught girl and her uncharacteristically calmer younger brother. “I need you to trust that everything will be alright. We knew this was coming, eventually, and although circumstances right now are less than ideal, we are prepared. Aren’t we?” She turned to Isidor, who appeared taken aback, being put on the spot as he was. “We’re prepared.”
“...we are. As much as we can be.” The Kristeva alchemist agreed, after a moment’s hesitation. “We’ve all been working hard towards this point and finally have a process I believe we can trust… Ari is your kin. I promise you will all be the first to know of the outcome.”
After the three piled into the second carriage and were off, Nia’s shoulders dropped, and she looked plainly remorseful for the exchange she’d had with Sylvie. “It won’t be one of us--or either of you, I suppose--updating her late, I’m afraid. If your procedural design is anything like the Isidor’s of my world--and I’d imagine it is… Two days. Roughly forty-eight hours is how long it took… Are you prepared for that?”
Isidor nodded. “I am. And I am willing to bet so is this world’s Nia.”
When they arrived at the border of the Night Garden, not far off from the sanctuary, both Nia and Isidor feared they would have a good deal of explaining to do when confronted with the intimidating Laz, who expected them to follow her into the sanctuary with Ari in her arms. But while confusion did cross the golem’s face, so did what appeared to be understanding. As if she knew more than she let on. Was it really that obvious? Nia wondered, as Ari’s loyal golem servant made the observation that she was, indeed, not the exact rendition of the person she appeared to be. Just how different was this world’s Nia? She would never know, yet always wonder… but, more than anything, she desperately wanted nothing more than for the woman missing from this world to have the same happy ending that she would have, when she returned to her world and married the man she loved.
Silently nodding her understanding, Nia accompanied Alster and Isidor to wherever they determined was best for her to go. They seemed to have more of an understanding than her as to what needed to be done, and she trusted them implicitly--just as she trusted the Alster and Isidor of her world. Some things didn’t change across realities, it seemed; or, rather, some people didn’t change. “Hard to believe that a leaf and a little bit of water led to… to all of this,” she breathed, walking at a pace that might as well have been running. While still under the cover of darkness, dawn was not far off. “But if it is that easy, then it can’t be too difficult, right? I want nothing more than to be home right now. With my Ari…”
The stream was not vacant, they soon found out, upon arrival. But Alster and Isidor’s shock was nothing compared to Nia’s. Nothing was quite as surreal as seeing a dead man’s face… especially if that dead man had been a good friend, once. “Hadwin…” The Master Alchemist breathed his name as Alster proceeded to explain without revealing too much, and was lost in the cacophony of vocalizations, but there was no hiding anything from Hadwin; there never had been. As soon as their eyes met, he saw something in hers, something he likely wouldn’t have seen in the Nia he knew. Perhaps what he saw was the grief she had felt when the Hadwin in her world had died at Rowen’s hands when attempting to bring her down, and the resulting anguish that had led Teselin to reach the peak of destroyer that had almost exceeded Locque’s damage. No, not almost--it in fact had impacted the kingdom more than Locque. This unexpected reunion dredged up far too many emotions for her to conceal, and beyond witnessing his own death in her eyes, he, like Laz, saw the truth, as if she were as transparent as the water in that stream. You’re not you…
“...wait.” Just as the faoladh agreed to deliver word of this current crisis to Lady Canaveris, Nia reached out, silently imploring he’d turn around and wait just one moment longer: he did. And since there was nothing to hide, she dared to ask. “Teselin… is she well?” Alive didn’t necessarily equate to ‘well’, but at the very least, he confirmed that this world still had her. Alive, innocent, and doing the best that she could. It was for that reason that this world likely still had him, as well. “Good. Good, I’m glad. I…” Her vision blurred as tears clouded her eyes, and Nia was forced to wipe them on her sleeve. “Take care of yourself… okay? I hope you and Teselin can continue to take care of each other…”
If only there was more time--what she wouldn’t have given to spend one more day with the people she had lost. But more was at stake in this world if she did not return to where she belonged, thereby returning this world’s rightful Nia. There was no more time for hesitation. “I guess your world isn’t as bleak as I thought,” she confessed to Isidor and Alster as she faced the stream, gripping the blue leaf by its stem. “I’m not unhappy with my situation, but it… doesn’t mean I still don’t mourn the lost. Hadwin was my best friend, and when he explained his determination to take down his younger sister, I tried to warn him not to go. Locque was reeling with my betrayal and she used her magic to make Rowen stronger than she ever should have been… The last thing he said to me was, ‘Don’t worry about it. Buy me an ale with that infinite money of yours’.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. If nothing else, the very last time she saw him, he was in good spirits and more confident than he should be. “Teselin couldn’t handle his death. She lost control and very nearly took all of Galeyn with her… Truth be told, I don’t drink much anymore. A glass of wine here and there, but I can’t have ale without thinking of my friend and feeling this… despair. But this world--you really could have it all, you know. When your Nia saves Ari, and earns the forgiveness of this kingdom… you’ll have a good place, here. I hope you can have that.”
Wiping her damp eyes on her sleeve one more time, the Ardane alchemist knelt next to the steam and thought about home--both the good and the bad. A world where Hadwin and Teselin were dead. A world where she and Ari were engaged to be married. A world where she still had friends and family relying on her. I don’t belong here… I need to go back. I need to go home…
She had closed her eyes and when she opened them, something looked strangely, inexplicably… off about her reflection in the water… “...how strange,” she commented to herself, as her fingers let go of the indigo leaf, which waded lazily down the stream. “It’s almost as if…”
Nia trailed off without finishing, going completely silent and still for such an extended moment that it gave even Isidor cause for concern. “Nia?” He asked, without approaching her. Was this working? Was it a massive failure? He didn’t know what to expect, and clearly, neither did Alster. “Is everything--”
He very nearly jumped out of his skin when the other Master Alchemist suddenly shot to her feet, and turned to the two men, wide-eyed and bewildered. “...Teselin and Hadwin. Are they alive?” She demanded, looking between the mage and the eldest Kristeva. “Are they?”
“...Nia.” That was a strange question, coming from either of the versions of the Ardane woman. “Are you--”
“Just answer me!”
“They… they’re fine.” Isidor took a staggering step back. “What do they have to do with anything?”
“Oh, thank you. Thank the gods and Tivia’s fucking weird magic.” Nia sighed, and glanced at her left hand. No ring: she was back. She was home. “I don’t… know how this all happened in the first place. But I’m back--I’m me. Where’s Ari? I should never have left him alone last night…”
Alster and Isidor exchanged a worried look, clearly wondering how they were going to explain this to the already distraught Ardane woman, but she was clever enough to read between the lines. “...is he stable? Take me to Ari immediately.”
No one argued. As soon as they made mention of the sanctuary, Nia wasted no time and was off on swift feet, her heart pounding so hard she feared it would leap out of her chest. She wasn’t much of a runner, but she didn’t stop until she reached the moss-covered wooden hut at the center of the Night Garden, where, sure enough, the Canaveris lord lay inside, unconscious, with signs of petrification. Aside from Laz, who would never leave his side, the small space was also occupied by Nadira, the healers Daphni and Elias, and the Head Gardener, Senyiah. “How long? When did this happen? What were the circumstances?” She demanded, immediately setting her hands upon Ari’s petrified flesh. It feels different… the stone in him prevails, while the human in him sleeps.
“...today. We can’t wait any longer. We need to address this now--we need to remove his curse.” Still out of breath from running, Nia turned to Alster and Isidor, her brown eyes wide and frantic. “Today.”
“...you haven’t fasted, Nia. Your body isn’t in an ideal condition to go through with this.” Isidor spoke his concerns, albeit calmly, and not forcefully. “That said… time is of the essence, and is not on our side, or Ari’s. If you accept the risks, under these less than ideal conditions, then you can count on me and Alster to help you rid Ari of his curse, here and now.”
Hadwin’s recovering gait meant that he hadn’t covered much ground when Nia requested that he wait. Turning around, he took in the glistening in her tearful eyes, emotions she harbored…for the likes of him. In true Hadwin fashion, he laughed off her concerns as he swung over and threw a good-natured punch on her shoulder. “Whoever the hell you are and wherever the hell you came from—actual reality, by the looks of it…” he paused, frowning. If this Nia hailed from the world of the living and not here in some odd purgatory where he reaped punishments and rewards as frequently as the waves of lucidity and ambiguity ebbed and flowed through his mind, then Teselin, too, must have…perished. He saw the truth play in her eyes, shining mirrors reflecting not only her residual fears, but his worst fear; the summoner, driven by grief, destroying the world alongside herself. Because of him. Because he had fulfilled one of her worst fears, and died. Died for good, no obnoxious ghost floating around to persistently annoy his friends and enemies. Just…dead. Obliterated, his soul utterly destroyed by Rowen’s gleeful hand.
“Well, whatever the case,” he continued where he left off, plucking the pipe out of his mouth for better ease of speaking, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. Take that small comfort with you, wherever you go.” To offset her tears, he grinned a big grin and stepped aside, drifting towards the direction of the palace. “We’re here for each other, and that’s not damn likely to change anytime soon.” Sliding the pipe back into his mouth, he gave Nia one last once-over. “See you in another life, yeah? Have an ale on me when you get home.” With that said, Hadwin slipped into the woods beyond the stream, leaving the original trio alone once again.
As Alster listened to Nia’s tearful report on her close friendship with the faoladh and the difficult loss it incurred, he nodded, lending a sympathetic ear. For all Hadwin was divisive and rambunctious, he also seemed to inspire unity and wholeness in the people who shared meaningful relationships with him, and those climbing numbers extended not just to Teselin and Brierly (and to Elespeth and Bronwyn for that matter), but to Nia, as well. At least, such was also the case in the other world. “He sometimes has difficulty grasping reality, which oddly makes him an expert in detecting absurd and unexplainable situations like the one we’re currently in,” he quirked a small smirk, allowing for some humor to manifest in spite of the grave yet ridiculous premise in which they found themselves. “But he has Teselin keeping him more or less sane, so…I think they’re going to be alright. You can thank Isidor for this fortunate turn in events,” he glanced over at the baffled Master Alchemist, who most likely didn’t desire the attention, however flattering or positive. “And Elespeth, too. Isidor crafted an augmentation tonic that kept Hadwin alive, and Elespeth found him in the nick of time, right as he fell unconscious from the tonic’s come-down effects. …Things aren’t so ideal here either, what with Ari’s present condition and your counterpart’s imprisonment status,” he sighed, but conceded to Nia’s argument with an agreeable, albeit conservative nod. “Whether we succeed or fail remains to be seen, but if there is any consolation to take away with you to your world, please know that we’re determined to make progressive strides towards the life everyone deserves—our world’s Nia, included. We’ll do whatever we can to save Ari and spare her life in the process. And when she inevitably recovers from this harrowing procedure,” his eyes narrowed with conviction, “she will earn more than just forgiveness in this kingdom, and that’s not an empty promise.” He gave Nia a conspiratorial look. “We know how Ari operates, don’t we? He’d never allow her to go uncredited.”
As they waited for the tenth bell to strike, he and Isidor granted Nia some time to emotionally prepare for her journey home. The hours whiled away in relative silence, with Alster trying (and failing) to steal a quick nap against the base of the tree. When at last the appointed hour was near, Nia gathered herself by the water’s edge, dipping the indigo leaf into the cool, rippling water, as instructed. Not long after she closed her eyes, a subtle shift in energies rippled from the water and seemed to pass over its visiting leaf-bearer. For an instant, Alster thought he beheld the image of Nia as a reflection in the water; aqueous and undulating, converting starbursts of unfiltered sunlight into shiny, ever-changing crystalline shapes. But when he blinked and refocused his gaze, any minor shifts in Nia's dimensionality had disappeared, leading Alster to second-guess what his tired eyes briefly witnessed. The woman kneeling before the stream was solid, not a mirage, or a being of smoke or water. She rose from the ground, her movements fluid, but as normal, not elemental or inhuman. Not anticipating that she’d react so quickly and throw them a sudden, hasty question, Alster, like Isidor, stammered a yes. For her to address concerns over Hadwin and Teselin’s mortal status must have meant…
“Nia?” his eyebrows furrowed, scrutinizing. “Is that you?” Mention of Tivia and her ‘weird magic’ confirmed his suspicions. This was their Nia, returned and (hopefully) in one piece. He made a silent wish for the other Nia to receive the same blessing, but as he assumed the two of them were inextricably linked via the stream, the law of correspondence seemed to indicate the same, favorable fate for her as well. “Thank the heavens,” he muttered under his breath, opting to focus on one victory at a time rather than worry about Tivia’s whereabouts and whether or not she would make a safe return. But speaking of worrying situations…
“Ari is…” he hesitated, but Nia, inferring the worst, saved him the need for explanation and bade them guide her to his current location.
In a whirlwind of frenzied running, a grueling pace set, unsurprisingly, by Nia, Isidor and Alster met with her at the sanctuary moments later, both of them huffing with exertion. The tiny hut was already crowded, occupied by the Head Gardener and Lilica’s appointed healers, as well as Laz and Nadira. The latter had pulled up a chair opposite Laz and sat, stroking her son’s hair and staring soberly at his unresponsive body.
“It’s about time you showed up.” Laz, addressing Nia, did not stand, aware the low-hanging ceiling of the sanctuary would make contact with her head and force her to fold into a stooped, awkward position. She gave Nia a detailed once-over, as if to verify if this Nia was, indeed, the correct one. The hardness in her violet eyes softened as she slid her chair over, making room for the new arrivals. “Last night, he overtaxed his body by wandering the Night Garden excessively, placing him under an extraordinary amount of stress,” she said vaguely, but her accusatory gaze rested on Nia. “With his stress response so high, all it took was one strong emotional reaction for his body to deteriorate. As of now, the petrification process has begun in earnest, starting with his hands.” She gestured to them, twin structures of stone clasped over his chest in an unintended funereal pose. “At this advanced stage, the curse won’t stop until his entire body is encased in stone. We can no longer stave it off with preventative medicine or alchemy. There’s no more management. Either we lift the curse in its entirety…or he dies.” Not one for beating around the bush, Laz spoke Ari’s grave prognosis in straightforward tones, not caring for any perceived harshness in her words. “He won’t wake up, nor can he. The Ari we know has retreated to a place where even I can’t reach him. It’s as if his soul has already died…and this is what’s left.”
Nadira, who so far had remained stone-faced, drew her arms close to her chest and leaked out a few unregulated tears, holding herself tightly so as not to shudder and collapse from the very idea of a worst-case scenario. “Ari is strong-willed,” she said in a breaking whisper, elements of her fierce nature still stubbornly attached in midst of her grief. “Incredibly strong-willed. His soul won’t leave this body…not until the very end. He will fight. I know that he will fight. …He needs to fight.” She closed her eyes, and more tears streamed down her cheeks.
“And he will. He knows there’s simply too much for him to lose if he goes.” Alster, who kept quiet since arriving at the sanctuary, passed his reassurances to Nadira, who, judging by her lack of reaction signified she was either too deep in her lamentations to notice, or her Canaveris pride prevented her from acknowledging a Rigas. Rather than fixate on the reasons behind her quietude, he turned to Nia and Isidor, biting his lip at the former’s proclamation to proceed with the arduous curse-removing procedure that very same day. “I understand the need to expedite the process, but if we’re not operating at our very best, our odds dwindle,” Alster lowered his voice to a whisper, as he gathered the two outside, mindful of Nadira or Laz eavesdropping on their conversation. “Ari’s odds dwindle. We spoke with your other world’s counterpart, and she informed us this is going to take you between twenty-four and forty-eight hours. Can you stand to stay awake and maintain your concentration for so long, without adequate preparation? At the very least,” he spread out his hands, electing for a compromise, “wait until tonight. That way, the Night Garden will be operating at full strength when we begin, and prior to that, we’ll have a little time to rest, fast, and review our notes. Does that sound fair?”
“Listen to Alster on this one, Nia.” Another figure joined their party. Black-clad, haggard, and out of breath, Tivia emerged from her vantage point, looking about ready to collapse upon the nearest cot. She pushed aside her sweat-soaked, side-swept fringe of hair from her face, not seeming to mind how it exposed her burn-ravaged skin, which no longer dominated her skin with ugly red welts. Whether from age or from other means, the damage had healed rather nicely. “Wait until tonight. We failed to get here in time to prevent Ari from falling unconscious, but now that he’s in the sanctuary, you’ve bought yourself a few more hours before his petrification advances to the next stage. The Night Garden will hold it off for as long as possible, but to improve your odds, begin at dusk at the absolute earliest.”
Alster couldn’t help it. The question needled at him to ask, however off-topic or irrelevant. “How did you get here?”
“I found my own way. It doesn’t matter,” she huffed, both from exasperation and exhaustion. “Go back to the palace and make whatever preparations are necessary. I’ll stay here at the sanctuary and keep watch over the situation. If things happen to take a turn, you’ll be the first to know.” She pointed to her temple. “I’ll have no trouble informing you, Alster, without the need for a resonance stone. Alright?”
Alster looked to Isidor, then at Nia, for their opinion. “If Tivia says we should wait, then I believe her. Besides, we need every advantage on our side, however small. I know we’ll never be ready, but there’s no sense in compromising ourselves, either. We’ll never be successful that way. So…let’s return to the palace and prepare whatever we can before dusk.”
Once Alster and Nia, the latter with obvious hesitation, finally turned from the sanctuary en route to the palace, Tivia drew out an arm and held back Isidor. The proximity, plus the fact that this Isidor knew her, as opposed to the version of him elsewhere that regarded her as nothing but a stranger, rattled her convictions and courage such that she avoided his gaze. With her arm creating a physical link between them, when she spoke, it reverberated in his mind; the same communication style as shared from the masquerade ball.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” she ventured, still keeping her head averted. “I sprang all this upon you with no explanation. And I’ll properly apologize later, but for now…there’s something you need to know.” She made a subtle gesture at the sanctuary. “Nadira Canaveris plans on sacrificing herself to save her son. She carries a talisman, soaked in her blood, which she plans to slip around Ari’s neck before exiting the Night Garden…to take her own life. No one will be able to reason with her. She has firmly made up her mind. Except…you have the best chance of stopping her. If it’s you who confronts her...she'll listen.”
The grip on his arm loosened, but lingered, reluctant to release him, to send him off and away and out of her reach. Rummaging the last scraps of her courage, she added, almost flinching, “I have every confidence in you, Isidor. These next few days will be rough, but I…trust in your strength, and I trust in you. S-so,” she felt her cheeks heat as she struggled not to look desperately into his eyes and give herself away, “do…your best. You have my support. At any rate…I’ll let you know when Nadira leaves the Night Garden.” Lowering her hand, and thus, their contact, she gave him one last curt nod before retreating to the sanctuary on weary feet, her heart thrumming, aching…and breaking all at once.
Alster, Nia, and Isidor (once he rejoined the group), hardly entered the palace before they had yet another encounter. A familiar one, from that morning.
Nico and Sylvie, who had, per Laz’s instruction, taken the next available carriage into Central Galeyn, caught a glimpse of the trio and dashed from the palace entryway to meet them. Rather, Sylvie had dashed, and Nico, in an attempt to intercept his sister, chased after her, but she got to them before he did.
“I can help!” Skipping any preamble, greeting, or even an apology to Nia, who she pointedly avoided, she turned to Alster and Isidor, her expression hopeful. “If you’re to begin the procedure on my uncle, let me be of assistance!”
Alster frowned. “Sylvie, you—“
“I carry elements of his curse!” she interjected, no longer caring who else heard about her years’ long secret about which only Alster, Hadwin, and Elespeth knew. “The basilisk serpent carries not just a curse in its stare, but in its bite, too! Whereas Uncle Ari is externally affected, the flare-ups acting upon his skin and embedding inward, because I contracted the curse via the prick of its venomous fang, whenever I am wounded, the curse crystallizes my blood from the inside and works its way out. It’s the opposite for me, but I do not suffer as my uncle does,” she hurried, in case they also treated her condition as severe. “I am far from a priority, but use me, my blood, whatever you see fit if it will help save my uncle! This is why I share a similar curse. For this reason and this reason alone.” She slapped a hand over her chest as if to make a solemn swear, then held it up to show them a small incision she’d carved into her palm, the wound clotted over and coated with a delicate crusting of garnet-like druse formations, as tiny and numerous as a piling of fine glass beads. “This is what papa wanted. For me to be of use to Uncle Ari. Now is my chance; we mustn’t squander it!”
Nico stared at Sylvie’s partially crystallized hand in shock at first, but once she mentioned their father, his eyes took on a fierce, stormy opacity. “Father did this to you?! And you never thought to tell me? Just as no one said a word to me about uncle’s curse until I had to learn of it as a spectator in the audience during Nia’s trial?!”
Her brother’s low, thundering anger snapped Sylvie out of whatever wild fanaticism fueled her desperate speech. “No no, papa didn’t—it was an accident. And I had only learned through happenstance. It was not—“
But Nico, in no mood to entertain any other sudden, unexpected news or their convoluted explanations, stalked off in a flurry of quickening footfalls, everything about his seething posture screaming not to pursue him down the hallway.
I took too long… I should have left when Tivia asked me in the first place. Laz was speaking to her, but Nia barely picked up more noise in the background. The sound of her heart hammering in her ears was just too loud, and she couldn’t see anything aside from Ari, with stone hands resting across his chest, still breathing, albeit shallowly. But it doesn’t matter. It already would have been too late. It was too late the moment I left for the Night Garden…
“He’s still there… as long as he’s still there, we haven’t lost.” Nia breathed, exhaling shakily as she rested her hands upon Ari’s stone digits. “We’re prepared. I know what to do, and we can do it. We can save him, right?” She didn’t look up again until she turned to Isidor. Despite having slept throughout the night, next to an Ari that didn’t really belong to her, dark crescents lingered like bruises beneath her eyes. “We can do it now. We have to do it now…”
Conditions weren’t ideal. Isidor hadn’t properly prepared for this, here and now; Alster hadn’t prepared for it, and most importantly, neither had Ari and Nia. The Ardane woman had recently consumed alcohol, hadn’t done the necessary three-day fasting before performing her alchemy on a human being. The odds were already not on their side, even with all of the tweaks Isidor had made over the past month, and this abrupt change of events did not play any further in their favour. But the desperation in Nia’s eyes, and the gravity of the emergency in which they found themselves impelled him to oblige her plea. No amount of bad blood between them was worth risking an innocent man’s life, and Ari… Ari meant something to him, too. As a friend that he wished he’d had more time to get to know better, before he finally put Galeyn behind him and returned to the mundane comfort and familiarity of his tower. So he agreed, despite his better judgment, to oblige her request if it was what she really wanted.
Yet, in the end, it was for the best that Alster interjected. He had a calm and rational way of influencing others that Isidor could only dream of having. But Nia was not so readily convinced that waiting was the answer. “I can do anything when it comes to Ari.” The Ardane alchemist insisted. Her hands were clenched into fists and shaking. “Twenty-four, forty-eight, one hundred hours… I’m a fucking survivor, and if it means Ari will survive, then I can do it.”
“I… think it would be wise to heed Alster’s advice, Nia. He has a point.” Isidor interjected. “The Night Garden will keep Ari stable; and it will give us time to better prepare. Let’s bolster our odds by performing this while the Night Garden is at its strongest. And…” He briefly reached out to touch one of her trembling fists. “To give you a chance to collect yourself. You just… you just traversed dimensions, more than once. I can’t even fathom what that must have done to you physically.”
Nia looked between Alster and Isidor with overbright eyes. They were right, and… she hated that they were right. She hated that she wasn’t in perfect condition, and that she hadn’t listened to Tivia, and that she had ever fled from Alster and Elespeth’s wedding and Lilica and Chara’s wedding proposal in the first place. And she knew that if she was going to make this right, and if she was going to make her bright future with Ari a reality… then it was time to listen to the advice of those with clearer heads. Because she couldn’t do this alone.
So when Tivia Rigas made yet another impeccably-timed appearance, echoing Alster’s thoughts, she knew better than to challenge it. “Then I know how to use this time. I’m going to be ready.” Nia relaxed her fists and exhaled. Her shoulders and jaw were tight with stress and determination. “I’m not leaving any room for error. I promised… I made a promise to Ari. That we would be together. I saw what it could be like for us…” Ari, healthy and warm and glowing and… happy. That world’s Ari was not some unattainable fantasy; and there was no reason her Ari couldn’t live as fully as his otherworldly counterpart. So long as she didn’t let in a modicum of doubt that she could pave the way for the future they deserved.
The Ardane woman silently left for the palace, trailed by Alster and Isidor, but the latter was caught off guard by a hand on his arm. When he turned to acknowledge Tivia, she didn’t release his arm, and when she spoke, she chose to speak into his mind, just like before. But what could she have to say that needed to be so discreet? “Tivia…” Her silent words interrupted him, and for good reason. It wasn’t what he had hoped to hear her say, but ultimately, he realized how necessary it was for him to hear them. Nadira… Even after he had cautioned her not to interfere, she still planned to, nonetheless. But why? Did she really have so little faith in him, in Alster, and in Nia, that she planned to take it into her own hands?!
“...thank you. For letting me know. I’ll… talk to her. At least, I’ll try…” Isidor agreed, tossing a glance over his shoulder at the sanctuary. That Tivia trusted him to get through to the stubborn Canaveris matriarch resonated in his body brought a curious warmth to his skin. Tivia always had a way of making him feel as though he actually mattered, when in actuality, he played a very small part in this process. “Tivia--about what I said at the masquerade. I didn’t mean…”
But when he turned again, she was already off, prepared to deal with whatever she had to deal with next. If he had been braver, more of a risk taker, maybe he would have gone after her. There was still so much left unsaid between them, and so much he wanted to say… but Isidor Kristeva was not so brave, and not such a risk-taker. Yet neither was he prepared to sit on the information Tivia had provided and wait for Nadira to solidify her plan. Trusting that Alster would have a handle on Nia for the time being, and prevent her from doing anything stupid or drastic, the eldest Kristeva brother turned back to the sanctuary, and pushed open the door. Daphni and Elias had taken their leave, deciding amongst them that they would stand in shifts to watch over the unconscious Canaveris lord; presently, Senyiah was keeping a close eye on Ari, prepared to act if at any point in time, his condition deteriorated.
Nadia hadn’t moved. She gripped one of her only surviving son’s hands, looking so bereaved that she might as well have already lost him. Isidor sympathized with her; he understood her desperation, but… But what she was planning could not come to pass. He couldn’t let her, for a number of reasons, yet simply telling her to cease and desist was not the way to proceed. “...Lady Canaveris.” He greeted her, taking a seat on the empty cot behind her. “There is something I think you should know. I realize that I have not instilled any great confidence in you that this procedure will be successful to all ends. And it certainly is not without its risks, to multiple parties. However… Alster and I have come across some new information of late that gives me reason to reevaluate my initial cost-benefit analysis of going through with this plan. I do think you should hear what I have to say.”
The Master Alchemist folded his hands, fingers interlocking as his brain struggled to find a way to divulge what they had recently learned from the other-worldly Nia Ardane, without revealing they had been visited by a familiar face from another dimension. While it would have been the truth, it was one that was far too outlandish to digest, and he feared that she would close her ears and her mind to his advice as soon as he introduced a magic that even he scarcely understood. In all of Galeyn, he was certain that only Tivia could grasp the mechanics of traveling between dimensions and realities. “Some weeks ago, I told you that this procedure has never before been performed. That the circumstances of Ari’s curse were too unique to safely go about this in any manner. But the truth is… the truth is, we have of late come to learn that this has been done before, under circumstances practically identical to Ari’s, with methodology practically identical to what Nia, Alster and I have devised. And the outcome, Lady Canaveris, was very favourable. In fact, I’d be bold enough to say it was the best that could possibly be expected.”
Nadira’s bowed head looked up then, and with quiet relief, Isidor realized he had her full attention. This might be his only chance to change her mind about what she had planned; the pressure made his heart race, but he believed Tivia, and he had to try. “To be more specific, all parties not only survived, but recovered, completely unscathed: both the person afflicted with the curse, the Master Alchemists involved, as well as the mage. What I am trying to say, Lady Canaveris is that we have a chance of not only saving Lord Canaveris and ridding him of his curse, but giving him the future and life that he wants. That is, if we proceed with the plan as we have prepared it--with absolutely no deviations or interferences, otherwise. Do you understand what I am saying?” Isidor unclasped his hands and gripped both of his knees with his fingertips. What if she disagreed? What if she didn’t have faith that Ari would survive, and completely disregarded his warning? He was not a charismatic person, nor someone who easily influenced others. He didn’t have Alster’s calm and rational demeanor, nor Ari’s way with words that left few to doubt either of the mages. Her decision lay entirely in whatever respect and confidence she had in him and his skills as a Master Alchemist.
“...whatever it is you are planning, of your own agenda, I am desperately asking you to reconsider, Lady Canaveris.” Time was not on their side to hint at his awareness of her plan; if he didn’t confront her head-on right now, then everything would only end in tragedy, one way or another. “I ask you for a number of reasons--first and foremost, for the fact that I have every confidence we can give Ari the future that he wants and deserves. Surely you must realize that that very future is one that involves you. He has already lost a father and a brother… Would you really have it that he awaken with no family to see him into his future? And that is, if such an interference would permit him to wake up at all.Alchemy is all about balance, Lady Canaveris, with all possible variables accounted for. This procedure is already tenuous, and relies on all factors being taken into account. There is no room for what you want to do, and guarantee that all will turn out safely. Ari is going to live; so is Nia, if you give all of us involved the chance to make this a reality. I…”
Air escaped his lungs in the rush of a heavy sigh. Why did the burden of persuading Nadira Canaveris to leave well enough alone have to fall on the least persuasive person in Galeyn?! Tivia herself would have been better suited to this task. “The only reason I am here at all, in Galyn, is because Alster sought me out to heal his wife’s heart. I never would have come if I did not believe it possible to help her. And I would not still be here, now, if I thought it wouldn’t be worth seeing this through, because I do not make myself part of something where failure is an option. I don’t fail, Lady Canaveris; and by virtue, neither will Alster or Nia, because I do not align myself with those who fail. So please…” The Master Alchemist stood from the cot upon which he sat and humbly bowed his head. “I’m asking you… to have faith that we can come through for you. It is too soon to throw in all our cards just yet.”
If Alster was aware that the trio had lost one of their own in Nia’s flight toward the palace, he opted to trail the more distraught of the two Master Alchemists, knowing that it likely wasn’t a sound idea to leave Nia alone to her own devices at this time. Trusting that Isidor would catch up of his own accord, he followed her all the way to the palace, but they didn’t make it to the doors before they were interrupted by a familiar duo. Nico and Sylvie Canaveris (the latter, more specifically) forewent any preamble and suddenly insisted that she become part of the plan to save Ari. In Nia’s tunnel vision, where she saw and heard little aside from what was already going on in her head. That is, until Sylvie showed her her palm, and the calcified wound on her hand… There had always been something off about Ari’s niece. It wasn’t the first time she had come into contact with her, but contact had always been so brief that she hadn’t found the time to figure out exactly what was off. Now she knew; what she felt was familiarity. Because she felt it in Ari every time she touched him; now, it all made sense.
“There’s no record of you ever being involved,” came her knee jerk reaction, thinking back to what she had read in the alternate-Isidor’s notes in another dimension. No one but Alster would understand where she was coming from, and she didn’t care to explain because she just didn’t have the time, however odd it must have sounded to Nico and Sylvie. “We can’t change anything, including the involvement of other parties if we want Ari to wake up without a curse. We… but, wait.” Without asking, she took Sylvie’s hand and examined the crystal particles that sealed her wound like tiny rubies. “...maybe we have an opportunity that they didn’t have. Sylvie, I think we can make use of some of your blood. If your curse resembles your uncle’s, then we can actually test our theory on you. Indirectly, of course.”
Turning to Alster, she reached out and grasped his shoulder, seeking his full attention. “We’re not to start Ari’s procedure until dusk, right? Then that gives us plenty of time to practice. If, between your magic and my alchemy, we can manage to turn the essence of Sylvie’s curse as it exists in a sample of her blood into that of a treatable illness without the buffer of the Night Garden, then we will better know our odds when we perform it on Ari. Better yet, it gives us time to work out any pitfalls we might come across. This is the best and only opportunity we have to empirically get it right before we do the real thing.”
One of Nadira’s biggest regrets was obliging her son’s request to oversee the observatory tower's construction efforts.
Had she rejected it, or outsourced the task to another justly capable Canaveris, she would have spent her days at the D’Marian settlement among his company and realized much sooner how unwell he had become. Yet Ari, appealing to her pride, enticed her towards helming the observatory tower project, as if banking on her perfectionistic tendencies and love for a challenge, especially one that combined her construction-savvy expertise. Effectively, Ari had tricked her, but in place of feeling hurt, she allowed him the space he desired, knowing how much he valued independence from her ever-hovering influence.
But now, as she clutched his cold, weighty hand of granite, she lamented her grave mistake. Instead of being considerate of his needs, she should have acted more selfish. If she had forced her company, he might have resented her, true, but their daily interactions and proximity would have made it impossible for Ari to hide or withhold his condition from her prying eyes. She had placed too much trust in how he managed his affairs, and because of her oversight, he was lying unconscious in the Night Garden, hovering between life and death. If she had been around, she would have implored him to seek help days or even weeks sooner. Under her hawklike watch, none of this would have come to pass.
Luckily, she had prepared for this heartrending yet predictable turn in his health. Around her neck hung a pendant, a family heirloom depicting birds in flight swirled in gold filigree, but her choice of neckpiece hardly mattered as long as it carried some significance to the wearer. And it did; gifted by her mother at birth, it was the first piece of jewelry she had owned—a legacy enrobed in gold elegance, powerful for its connection to her and to the generations of Canaverises who wore it previously. Beneath her breast it stayed, concealed from curious onlookers. For, while normally nondescript in design—nondescript for a noble family famous for frippery and fancy baubles, that is—the gold filigree was presently stained red with her blood.
What she had relayed to Isidor over a month ago was no bluff, no empty promise. Nadira Canaveris was a lot of things, but at her core, she always maintained her integrity with regard to her conviction. Once she made a decision, she followed through, for better or worse. After all, her son’s wretched condition remained her fault, her responsibility, and she was finally ready to pay the cost of her catastrophic foibles.
“You will not die for my mistake, my precious stone,” she whispered into her son’s unresponsive ear as she rested a hand upon his clammy cheek. “Too many have died on my watch already. It ends with you. I will make certain this curse upon my family ends here. I promise you, Aristide.”
Isidor entered the sanctuary just as Nadira had retracted her hand to dab at her moistening eyes with an equally moist handkerchief, an already compromised and vulnerable position for her, made worse by the fact that Isidor and Isidor alone—not as a member of a trio—sought her attention. Not quite knowing what to expect, she lowered the handkerchief to her lap and bobbed a weary nod in greeting. “Mister Kristeva. You must excuse me; I am hardly in the mood for conversation. I ask that whatever you need convey be kept brief. I hope you understand.”
Isidor did not keep things brief, nor could he, given what he intended to discuss. Considering the nature of his dissertation, she felt inclined to listen, despite her claim that she could not stomach any lengthy discourse. For Ari’s survival, she would always make an exception, however the rocky relationship between herself and the Master Alchemist she had failed to rescue from his abusive ward—and all for this moment. All so that he would one day rescue her son. Now that the cursed day was upon them…she no longer agreed with her unscrupulous methods. No one should take the fall for her mistake—but herself. Since she had ultimately doomed her son, the only penance was to reverse their fates.
Her mouth balked open in surprise when Isidor intuited exactly what she was planning to do. Although she once mentioned it to him, she didn’t think he would accept her self-sacrificial strategy as legitimate and not just the wild ravings of a desperate, hysterical mother. As it turned out, he remembered, and through some instinctual reach, made the appropriate conclusion.
“However more favorable the odds, a chance is a chance, Mister Kristeva,” she said evenly, too emotionally drained to speak above a whisper. “Everyone might escape this procedure unscathed, as you say. All the same, the chance of the dead opposite occurring also exists. Forgive me for exercising so little faith, Mister Kristeva, but it is not because I doubt your team’s collective skills. You are, all of you, formidable in your respective fields and I could have none better to work this difficult case. However, if there exists the possibility of more lives lost during this arduous process, I’d rather take control of the odds myself and volunteer the one life I am within my rights to surrender. If it will prevent further bloodshed, if it will guarantee a runaway success, then…” she stared at her hands, healthy and strong, yet wrinkled and gnarled with age. “Ari will lose me eventually. If I could do this last thing for him, and ensure that you, Lord Rigas, and especially Miss Nia survive alongside my son, then praytell, what is your objection? It is not as if you much care for my continued existence. Would I not be doing you a favor, as well?”
Ever unswayable in the face of hard logic and facts, Isidor didn’t hesitate to explain exactly why he objected. “If that is the case, then please care to inform me of the reason why my contribution is considered invalid? Alchemy might be about balance, but you have a mage on your team, and magic plays by its own set of rules. How does your alchemy account for Lord Rigas? Or for the Night Garden, a purported place of miracles and magic? How is it that your alchemy has made room for these two very significant variables, yet it draws the line at blood magic? Blood magic, might I add, that harnesses a power so immense that under the right circumstances, can restore a life from the brink of death? That is the energy I am granting my son, as his due inheritance. See it as insurance and a bolstering aid for you and your team. With its undeniable power on your side, you cannot lose. No one will lose. Would you dare deny me the honor of ensuring my son’s life—and those of his companions?!”
It was the closest she dared to disturb the sanctity of the sanctuary and of her son’s involuntary rest—but her impassioned entreaty was short-lived when a catch in her voice compelled her to drop it down to its hushed low. While she thought her latest outburst made her intentions clear and nonnegotiable, Isidor couldn’t leave well enough alone as he lowered his head…and all but begged for her cooperation. This behavior of his took her aback. Did he honestly believe her sacrifice would undermine Ari’s procedure? Or…did he sincerely not wish for her to die—and not just for Ari’s sake, either?
This raw demonstration of sincerity did something she hadn’t expected. It urged her to reconsider. To surrender her plot to micromanage certain victory—at the expense of her life—and allow faith and fate to take its course. “I…” she hesitated, but bit her lip, refusing to let him see her vacillate like some weak-willed nit whose mind changed as often as the tides. “…I will offer you a compromise,” she said at last, silently commanding him to lift his head and look her in the eyes. “If at any point during the procedure I notice any dire complications arise, I will enact my plan. But only then and not a breath sooner. Is this revision amenable to your sensibilities and your pride, Mister Kristeva?”
There’s no record of you ever being involved.
“Pardon?!” Same as Nia, Sylvie burst out with her own knee-jerk reaction, not only a departure from her usual graceful poise, but a continuation of the diatribe she’d lobbed at who she thought to be Nia, back at the villa. “My father wanted my involvement! Why else would he keep a basilisk serpent’s fang among his personal items? You do not get to control who is qualified to help my uncle when you are the reason he is in such a state! He was just fine yesterday morning. He should not have advanced so quickly to this degree, and yet he did! Because you could not cease being absolutely wretched for just a minute while he praised you at the ball!”
“Sylvie.” With Nico now absent, it was Alster’s turn to mollify the hurting young woman. Resting a light hand upon her shoulder, he looked intently into Sylvie’s tearful eyes. “Nia is not your enemy. We need her if we are going to have any chance of lifting your uncle’s curse and restoring him to flesh and blood. Believe me when I say that there are few more motivated to see this procedure through than she.”
“Then if she is so motivated, she should understand the importance of using my blood!” she roared, like a tiger who finally tired of her restraints and forced docile domesticity. It was at that point that Nia, no longer resistant to the idea, lifted Sylvie’s hand to observe the self-inflicted geode slash etched into her palm. Upon hearing Nia’s favorable response, Sylvie’s bristling demeanor finally faded to its usual compliance. “Yes, yes. This is what I mean. I hold the key; father said so. By all means, use my blood. As much of it as you need.”
“We’re not going to drain you dry, Sylvie.” With his hand still on Sylvie’s shoulder, he gently guided her to the dungeons where Isidor’s much larger workshop awaited their arrival. “We’re only going to use what’s necessary. But I’m in agreement with Nia.” He granted her a validating smile. “Your blood could very well be the key to unlocking a very important component for us; a low-risk trial run. If we can revert your blood, and on a consistent basis, through the method we intend to use on your uncle, then we’ll have a better understanding of how to employ it on a much larger scale. What you’ve given us, Sylvie…is a fighting chance.”
Nico didn’t know where he was going. Away was all he wanted. But away to where? He only had a passing familiarity with the palace and the Night Garden, never mind a room of his own to claim. A room of his own with a door to slam shut and reverberate, quiver from the aftereffects of his betrayal.
Again. His family withheld the truth again. Forever left behind, he had no choice but to watch, helpless, as choices were made regardless of his input, his involvement. As people died, or fell to some approximation of it, and blew out the guttering torch lights on their exeunt, leaving nothing but lingering remnants of smoke that reached for his throat and throttled him until it squeezed the breath from his lungs. And while he choked on the ghosts of everything, the world kept on turning. The sun shone through the windows, illuminating his pathway, and palace attendants hustled through the corridors, responding to some different need, a different call. It might have been the possible end of his world, but for many others, it was a typical day.
And he resented them for it.
Someone was speaking his name, but he didn’t care. If he ignored them enough, perhaps they would vanish.
They didn’t vanish.
“Rough morning, hm?” He looked up from the floor to see Hadwin Kavanagh in his direct line of sight, so close he could have delivered a crushing headbutt. Nico almost swerved out of the way without a word—until he noticed the company the meddlesome faoladh had kept.
Teselin.
Shamed to have her see him so forlorn, he dipped his head into a bow of greeting so pronounced, it concealed the mortified flush on his cheeks and the sting of developing tears on his eyelids. He dared not speak for fear his voice would crack and steal away any illusion of composure he might have still commanded. Couldn’t they just go? Couldn’t everyone just fall into oblivion and let him wallow in peace?
As if reading his mind, Hadwin flashed a key in front of him. “Need a place to crash? I got a room. I never use it, so it’s all yours, kid.” Before plopping it into a hand Nico hadn’t realized unfurled, Hadwin looked over his shoulder at the summoner. “Care to show him where it’s at, Tes? I’d do it, but I got somewhere I need to be.” He shrugged as he offered Nico the key and bounded off in two strides. “See ya!” he shouted, heedless of the fact that he left Nico alone…with Teselin. At the worst possible moment.
He didn’t have time for this. Hells, even if Ari’s physical condition was not on the cusp of turning to stone and never returning, neither Isidor nor Alster nor Nia would have the casual time to spare to try and explain that intricate dance between magic and alchemy, let alone master alchemy, let alone master alchemy itself and how introducing blood magic--arguably one of the most chaotic and powerful of magics--could send things spiraling in a direction that benefitted nobody in the end. So all the younger of the Kristeva brothers could do is make his plea with one of the simplest of explanations that he could muster. “Nadira, you are viewing your blood magic as separate and independent of the rest of this process. But nothing functions in isolation of the other factors to which it has been introduced. It becomes a part of that process, and as such, it changes its effects and outcome to accommodate the other factors. If you were to do this… I couldn’t guarantee it would save Ari’s life. It would only complicate the other factors that we are implementing to try and accomplish that same result. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Truthfully, he knew that she did, and her trouble was simply in coming to terms with the fact that she could not singlehandedly be her son’s saviour. That she was forced to put all of her faith in people whom she had either known for too short a period of time, or those whom she had only recently decided she could trust. Isidor understood her desperate stance, and how she wished she could be in any other position… And perhaps this was why he was finally able to get through to her.
Isidor expelled a quiet sigh of relief at the confirmation that he had actually been heard, and his reasoning had reached her. His shoulders even relaxed a little. "Your compromise is fair, Lady Cancers, but please let me explain beforehand what to expect. This procedure could take up to forty-eight hours: that is 2 days without food or water for everyone involved. Nia, in particular, has to perform this in a decidedly weakened condition. When all is said and done, even if we are successful, none of us are going to be well off immediately. And that includes Ari." In the only gesture he could think of to placate the distraught woman, he reached out to touch one of her hands. "Like I mentioned before, we intend to save him but transmuting his curse into a treatable illness. The Night Garden cannot help him currently as is, but it can treat illness. He may not wake up right away, but he will have the Night Garden, healers, and mages all at his disposal to encourage his quick recovery. And as for Nia…"
He withdrew his hand to straighten his spectacles on his nose. "To offer you a frame of reference, when I healed Lady Elespeth Right's heart, the Rigas couple was conscious but bedridden for a few days. And I was unconscious and indisposed for slightly longer; three or for days. Realistically, I would expect Ari to be bedridden for no less than a week. Alster and I will likely just need some rest and a good meal. But Nia… I believe it would be realistic to expect her to be unconscious for no less than a week afterward, and under intensive care and supervision. So what I am trying to say is…" The Master Alchemist took a slow breath, carefully parsing his words to avoid nervous rambling. "Please trust us to be transparent with you. If things are taking a turn for the worst, we will make it abundantly clear. Do not take it upon yourself to decide we are failing on a whim. This is a delicate procedure; things are going to look worse before they look better. If you can go into this with that understanding… then we have a deal."
With the reassurance that Nadia wouldn't interfere at the first signs of distress, Isidor left the Canaveris Matriarch alone with her son to quickly pursue Alster and the extremely distraught Nia Ardane. They had not ventured far toward the palace when at last he caught up, and Nia was not the only one in distress. Sylvie Canaveris had joined the fray, and she seemed to have some choice words for Nia, who was the recipient of her grief and frustration. He appeared to have joined just in time for some small revelation about Sylvie’s blood, which Nia decided might be useful in steps toward saving Ari. But the Kristeva alchemist hardly had time to ask questions before Nia disengaged from the group and began to continue her trek toward the palace. “Nia!” He called, concerned for that determined look in her eyes that suggested she had something on her mind, and it could not be changed. “Whatever you’re planning, let’s--”
“I haven’t been fasting. So I’ve got to do the next best thing. Trust me, you don’t wanna be around for that.” The Ardane woman hastily replied without looking back. “We’re gonna need a few vials of Sylvie’s blood. If we’re going to do this, then we do it right, without any hiccups. I’ll come find you guys within the hour.”
Isidor exchanged a glance with Alster, who hastily filled him in on the current plan. He couldn’t argue that it wasn’t a good idea; it would give them a notion of what to expect, how to proceed, and what might not work. “And you’re alright with this, Sylvie?” He asked, but Ari’s niece had already demanded her involvement. It did strike him as rather surprising that the young girl had managed to hide the implications of her own curse from the general population for such an extended period of time… Perhaps this process would also have implications in treating her, in the near future. “In that case… I suppose we shouldn’t waste any time. We can use my workshop.”
Isidor accompanied Alster and Sylvie inside, where they settled in his workshop; not the disaster that was his chambers, but the dungeon cell-turned-alchemical workshop that was by far less cluttered and better organized (likely because it was less utilizer given that it granted less privacy.) “Apologies that it isn’t the most cheerful,” he said to Sylvie, and proceeded to illuminate the area with candles and jars which contained a substance that glowed brightly at his touch. “Alster, perhaps you can… ah… I’m not particularly good with…”
There was no need to finish his sentence; Alster already understood well enough his friend’s squeamishness when it came to blood. He’d be able to draw it from Sylvie with a calmer and steadier hand, in any case. Isidor nervously looked away, determined not to risk squeamishness and ruin this ordeal, while Sylvie didn’t complain even once. Of course a young girl would possess more bravery in her character than the likes of him… “Are you well?” He asked her, when a total of three vials of her blood had been drawn, and the crook of her arm was bandaged. “If there’s anything we can get you…”
Sylvie politely declined, and insisted they get on with the trials as soon as possible. In her impatience, Isidor anxiously peered around the corner, wondering what was keeping Nia. At the better part of an hour, when the Ardane woman still had yet to show, Alster volunteered to go and check in on her, while Isidor prepared for this trial procedure. There was no need for Sylvie to stay and observe, but considering the Canaveris girl looked as though she was reluctant to budge, wishing to see this through (and to see Nia prove her merit.)
Alster did ultimately encounter Nia nearby, in the halls of the floor just above the dungeon. The Ardane woman moved slowly compared to her hurried gate earlier, and appeared physically weak and out of breath. Not a surprise, considering she’d taken a tonic that forced her body to become violently ill and purge whatever contents of her stomach remained, but she didn’t refuse Alster’s hand when he offered an arm to lean on. “Sorry for the delay; I’m good to go, now!” The Master Alchemist grinned wide, trying and failing to convince him she was much better off than she actually was. Her trembling fingers struggled to maintain a grip on Alster’s arm as he guided her down the winding stairs toward Isidor’s dungeon workshop, and with each step, her smile faltered. “...I bet she had steady hands, didn’t she?” There was no question as to whom she was referring: the other Nia, the one who had succeeded and saved Ari. Alster didn’t need to answer, because the silence that followed her question was all the answer she needed.
They made it to the palace’s lowest level more slowly than what Sylvie’s patience could tolerate, but Ari’s niece had the grace not to berate Nia further, given the strain she had already put her body through. Isidor was particularly concerned, and took Nia’s free hand to guide her to a chair. “You’re totally dehydrated; take better care,” he chided her, and filled a cup of water from a glass pitcher nearby.
Nia only groaned and raised a hand to push it away. “Ugh… not now. I couldn’t keep it down…” She murmured. “I’m alright. Let’s do this--see if we can succeed on a small level before moving onto the bigger job.”
Standing from her seat, Nia approached the workbench, where the three vials of Sylvie’s blood awaited this test. “I can’t create something from nothing; I can only change what’s already there. Alster,” she turned her attention to the Rigas Mage who stood at the ready. “I need you to try and isolate the fabric of this curse; make it something tangible, some form of matter… and I’ll do the rest. I’ll transform it into something treatable, one cell at a time. I’ve got faith in you--I know you of all people have done your due diligence and reviewed Isidor’s notes. So…” She rolled up her sleeves and smiled, mustering what shred of confidence she could find. “Let’s start making miracles happen.”
Trial and error was safe under these circumstances, and ultimately, Sylvie Canaveris had been right: she was key in saving her uncle. It took Alster and Nia some time to figure out how to translate their skills in such a way that they could synchronize them. In theory, the first few fumbles wouldn’t have hurt Ari, but it would have cost them time and energy and the need to bactrack. Luck must have been on their side, because within the next hour and half, the anticipated change began to occur. It was slow--one cell at a time, just like Nia had said, but it was happening. Another hour passed, at which point, a quarter of a vial of Sylvie’s blood had been transmuted from cursed blood into infected blood; not the entire vial, according to Nia’s preference, but Isidor had been keeping close tabs on the Ardane woman’s own bodily safety, and took the initiative to put an end to the trial at that point.
“I’m calling it now--we need to stop now, Nia, Alster; save the remainder of your strength for later.” He insisted, and gripped Nia’s shoulder gently but firmly.
Nia didn’t argue. She relented, and put the vial down… and broke out into a wide grin. “It’s infected… see for yourself, Isidor! A quarter of this blood isn’t cursed anymore; it’s infected with illness!” Under any other circumstances, one would’ve thought the Ardane woman mad for celebrating the induction of illness, but this was revolutionary. “We did it! W-we can do this, we will save Ari! We can--”
The Ardane alchemist cut herself off, hastily rose from her seat, and fled to a corner where she began to violently dry heave. Yet, after everything she had already expelled earlier, there was nothing left to come up.
“This is why we needed to stop.” Isidor huffed a frustrated sigh, took the untouched cup of water, and brought it to Nia’s mouth. “Take a deep breath and drink; if you bring it back up, then keep trying until your stomach is settled. You can succeed without food in your body, but not without water. Do you understand? Alster,” he turned his attention to his friend, who had broken a sweat, but not to the same extent as Nia, whose body was already nearly spent. “When she can stand, could you please take her to lie down? This has been beyond promising, but she’s going to need some semblance of strength to replicate this on a much larger scale. And… please try and get some rest yourself.” His determined expression softened, but the lines of concern still creased his forehead. “Let’s not be so foolish as to celebrate too early.”
As Alster moved to help Nia stand and carefully sip water, the Kristeva alchemist turned to Sylvie, who had remained silent and unmoving this entire time. “This bodes well not only for your uncle, but for you, as well.” He said to Ari’s niece, and managed to muster a smile. “Is your arm alright? If you’re well, I have a request to make of you. Without revealing too much, I’d like you to speak with your grandmother. We really need her to have faith in us… I’m afraid if she doesn’t, she may try to take things into her own hands, which could endanger everyone. I feel she’ll listen to her own kin; if you can try to instill faith in this process, convince her we are more sure of ourselves than ever before… her confidence in us could very well play into our success.” Or lack thereof… if Nadira decided what she saw would not yield desired results.
“...Nico.” Teselin wasn’t surprised to find Ari’s nephew in such a condition, when she and Hadwin approached him in the Night Garden. Word spread fast, even all the way from the D’Marian settlement… and clearly, he wasn’t taking it well. Hadwin, always intuitive, knew well enough to give Nico the space he needed, and even offered him use of his room if he needed to break down somewhere safe, before leaving Teselin alone with the distraught young man.
“If you need some time alone, let me show you to Hadwin’s room. No one will bother you there,” she offered gently, but didn’t put any pressure on him, in case he wanted to be alone on his own terms. To her surprise, he quietly agreed, and allowed her to lead him out of the Night Garden. For the first handful of minutes, silence floated between them, and the young summoner let it thrive; after all, she didn’t quite know what to say in this situation, or if there was a right thing to say at all. “... I know this might seem contrite, or ingenuine, and I’m sure you’ve already heard it countless times, but… I truly believe your uncle will be alright.” Teselin offered after some time had passed. By now, they had reached the palace, and she held open a side door for him to enter--one that led into a less populated hallway, so he wouldn’t encounter anyone to whom he did not wish to speak.
“I’m not just saying this to make you feel better. I’ve seen what Alster and Isidor and Nia are all capable of… and I think Lord Canaveris is going to be alright. Because the very people who can help him are the ones who are the most motivated to help him.”
Reaching Hadwin’s chamber, she stood by as Nico unlocked the door and hesitated before stepping inside. “He… isn’t the tidiest,” Teselin apologized on the faoladh’s behalf. Her cheeks tinted pink, even if the clutter, the clothes and blankets strewn about the floor, was no fault of hers. “But I suppose that goes without saying considering he’s as much wolf as he is man. If you can’t relax in here, you’re welcome to stay in my room--i-if that doesn’t feel strange for you.” She felt the urge to quickly amend, worried she was saying all the wrong things. Nico had said little to nothing since she and Hadwin had found him distraught in the Night Garden.
“Either way, I don’t have to stay if you want to be alone. But… if you’re concerned for your uncle, I know he’s in good hands…” The young summoner bunched fistfulls of her long tunic in her hands. “My magic can’t predict the future, but I just know… I know you won’t lose him. You won’t lose any more family, Nico. If I could bet my very existence on that, then I would.”
Without delay, Sylvie followed the trio minus Nia to Isidor’s workshop, feigning disinterest in Nia’s sudden departure. She was being petty, she realized, in vilifying the one person most determined to save her uncle’s life, but perhaps that was exactly why she was so safe to scapegoat. No manner of accusations or a raised cadence would deter Nia from her goal. Come hell or high water, she would risk it all for his benefit, and Sylvie valued, even respected Nia’s unfaltering tenacity to succeed. Yet…why did she desire getting a rise out of the Ardane alchemist, however small or inconsequential? For all she spent the majority of her time at the Canaveris villa, Nia hardly spared a glance in Sylvie’s direction, preferring Ari’s company, which was expected, but…granting her finite attention to Nico, of all people, who had once detested her. Perhaps if I am similarly detestable, you shall pay my counsel heed. A spiteful, mean-spirited little thought, but it was no less genuine. Sylvie hadn’t any friends or relations outside of her family, who were, all told, male, excepting her grandmother, her mother—who grew more absentee by the day—and now, Laz. Sadly, Nia had become the first non-Canaveris to reciprocate her ebullient—and admittedly strong-willed—solicitations of friendship, and…if her uncle’s procedure somehow backfired, she would not only lose him, but also…
She fiddled with her ring as she took a seat among the organized clutter of Isidor’s workshop, closing her jittery legs together by the knees and projecting a polished, expert calm. When Alster pulled up a chair beside her, syringe in hand, she obediently freed her arm from its sleeve and offered it to him. She didn’t so much as flinch when he jabbed the needle into her flesh and drew out the vials of blood. On the contrary, she was fascinated by the process and watched as streams of her uncalcified blood filled up each vial to a level deemed satisfactory for the purpose. When finished, Alster, mindful of the particulars associated with her own branch of the basilisk serpent’s curse, did not bandage her tiny wound, understanding the nonsense behind such a task, and instead healed it, as well as the small, self-inflicted gash on her palm made from earlier, aware that leaving any open wound unattended by magic would cause her to slowly crystallize from the inside out.
Despite having reached the extent of her contributions, she stayed put in the chair, not only out of obligation in case they needed more samples of her blood, but out of curiosity; she wanted to see how they would convert her blood into something not as badly afflicted as its cursed counterpart.
When Isidor began to express worry for Nia’s whereabouts and sent Alster to locate her, she eventually arrived at the door moments later, out of breath, and absolutely pallid as she swayed, arm in arm under Alster’s guidance. She looked deathly and a little green, like she had arisen as a corpse fresh from a grave. In accordance with her pride, she chose not to allow any shred of concern to flood her features, but she wasn’t heartless, and she really did feel for Nia’s horrid state. Let this not be a reflection of what is to come, she wished, fervently, circling the ring asking her raw finger for the umpteenth time. We must all survive this. I shall never forgive you if you don’t, Nia, despite everything you have promised.
Setting aside his reservations over Nia’s pitiful health, Alster reluctantly joined her in the tedious and unforgiving process of transmuting the contents of Sylvie’s cursed blood into a less harmless pathogen. She watched as Alster poured a tiny sample onto a glass plate, which immediately, upon contact with the air, hardened into familiar, garnet-colored crystal patterns.
“I’ve had success in reconfiguring Sylvie’s blood from a solid back to liquid through treating the areas with a localized zap of superheated electricity,” Alster informed Nia as he leaned over the sample, poising one steadying hand against the edge of the table. “I can do that again while concentrating the curse energy into one small area. From there, the theory is that I’ll be able to transform some of the weaker, more suggestible cells into chthonic energy and siphon their malefic essence out of her blood. I’ll leave the rest to you. We’ll do this gradually. No rush or haste,” he said measuredly, glancing at Nia through his periphery to check for understanding. “If you overexert yourself, we won’t be proceeding any further. Isidor’s right. You can’t go on in this condition without taking proper care of yourself. This is your vessel, the seat of your personal power. As you are now, miracles won’t be happening for long, I’m afraid.”
Regardless of his warning, they did, in fact, make significant strides towards blunting the curse and, eventually, managed to prove their theories correct. Sylvie sat forward in her seat when Nia’s celebratory remarks paid her take heed of the workstation where, indeed, a quarter of her blood remained in a liquid state contrary to the other portion of it, which maintained its crystalline structure. She could scarcely believe what she saw until Nia and Alster verbally confirmed it. Somehow, they had done what others had deemed impossible. A thin film of mist formed over Sylvie’s eyes. The odds of saving Ari no longer seemed so forlorn. Perhaps he, and Nia, and Sylvie—somewhere down the line—would swim out of this morass healthy, flush with exuberance, and…
“Nia!”
Sylvie shot from her seat in alarm as the woman who just moments ago had cheerily proclaimed their procedural breakthrough was now huddled in a corner, desperately holding on for dear life as she began to dry heave. “You must take care!” She scolded, dispensing of her prideful animosity in favor of her concern. She planted her hands on her hips, overcorrecting her temporary moment of weakness by twisting her expression into one of uncompromising sternness. “How can you be of any assistance to my uncle when you cannot stand without succumbing to some debilitating ailment? You wish to succeed, no? Then listen to Mister Kristeva and Lord Rigas, drink your water,” she gestured to the cup Isidor had positioned against Nia’s lips, “and rest, for heaven’s sake! I expect the same out of you two, as well,” she turned her iron gaze upon Alster and Isidor. “I cannot stress how imperative it is that everyone be at their best! …As best as the situation will allow, anyway,” she amended with a sigh. “I wish to place my unerring faith in you, but at this time, it is difficult, considering the sorry state you are in.” Although she was almost exclusively addressing Nia, she averted her eyes and half-turned towards the door. “As a matter of fact…I do not have the strength of will to look at you right now. If you would excuse me…”
But her attempted hasty egress was intercepted, though not rudely, by Isidor, who had a specific request in mind for her. Failing to hold back her incoming fit of sniffles, she nodded at his request, collecting her crumbling expression into a halfway decent caricature of calm compliance. “I shall do as you ask, Mister Kristeva. Please, be well, yourself. I understand this will be a harrowing procedure for everyone involved, and,” her brow softened as she touched upon the closest she dared to showing her vulnerable underbelly, “I just want…everyone to live, and be happy. Is that…too objectionable to ask the fates?” Without another word, she slunk out of Isidor’s workshop en route to the Night Garden, half-wondering just how she would go about convincing her grandmother to have faith when her very own, despite the wondrous successes achieved with her blood, was waning…
“Emotions are high right now. She’s upset,” Alster said of Sylvie as he and Nia traversed the halls of the palace, measuring their pace in slow, manageable strides as they took gradual steps up the dungeon’s steep, stone steps. Although stopped and haggard in form, sweat-slick and bone-weary from staying awake for over thirty-six extremely eventful hours ranging from his surprise wedding to multiple inexplicable crises, Alster’s exhaustion, while significant, paled to that of Nia’s, whose arm draped so languidly over his shoulders, he had to secure it tightly in place to prevent it from sliding from his grip entirely. “But she has a point. No matter how successful our experiments are, it won’t make a lick of difference for Ari’s chances if we’re holding together by threads. We still have a number of hours before dusk. Plenty of time to take a long rest and rehydrate. I might even be able to spare a bit of magic to put you under a deep, replenishing rest, like I’ve done for you in the past.”
“Nah, save your energy, Al.” Someone was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, helpfully slotting beside Nia on her free side to ease the burden of walking. “Welcome back,” Hadwin offered a cheeky grin to Nia. “And damn, you’re a sight. A fucking nap won’t be enough to put you to rights, I can tell you that much.”
“So what’s your solution then?” Under Hadwin’s aid, Alster eased Nia’s weight from his side, relieving himself of some of the burden. “You’re never the type to come waltzing in empty-handed.”
“And right you are! I’ve got something right here.” He patted a metal flask clipped to his belt with his free hand.
Alster raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I don’t think getting drunk is the answer we need. Besides, Nia is fasting. She can’t consume or imbibe anything of substance.”
Hadwin rolled his eyes at the light reprimand. “I’m not an idiot, Al. Of course I fucking know.” He unclipped the flask and handed it to Nia. “It’s water. From the Night Garden. In fact, it comes from that stream you went and got so ridiculously lost in, you ended up on the wrong side of the shoreline…so to speak.”
Alster’s skepticism turned into intrigue as his gaze landed on the flask. “And what separates this from normal drinking water?”
The faoladh shrugged. “A bit of Gardener superstition. Unverified, sure, but the thought behind it is that if you see your dreams in its reflection, then drinking them’ll make ‘em come true in this reality. And don’t worry,” he blew out his lips in a dramatic sigh when Alster’s sharp-eyed skepticism returned. “If it was gonna create trouble for you, Miss Starbright would’ve batted it outta my hands the second she saw me running off with it. So—can’t hurt to drink it, eh? Think of it as a little extra luck, yeah?” He nudged Nia carefully with his shoulder. “Not like you need it, but nothing wrong with increasing your odds for a miracle.”
Helplessly lost on what else to do, Nico awkwardly trudged alongside Teselin as they traversed the Night Garden, feeling each degree of silence like a metal pick jabbing into his ear. The heavy oppression of an environment meant for healing lessened somewhat once they entered the palace, replacing unfamiliar flora with familiar structure and mundane stability. On any other day, he would have scoffed at his emotional rejection of nature, the oft sought-after subject and muse of his paintings, but presently, he just wanted to surround himself with normalcy, or the closest he would reach to the safety and home of the Canaveris villa. He appreciated the paintings in their gilt frames on the walls, the occasional statue festooning the corridors, the splashes of color from decorative vases, and the black and white motif of the marble-tiled flooring. He could almost pretend he was back in Stella D’Mare, his family all present and accounted for, including his atrocious father and his atrocious face—at least he was alive—and his uncle was there too, his smile radiant and full of life, and his sister…
But reality was quick to remind him of his location. Upon Teselin’s opening of the door, Nico caught sight of the clothes strewn haphazardly about the room and hesitated to enter just long enough to draw attention to himself.
“No, no. This is perfectly sufficient,” Nico made an overexaggerated show of shrugging to demonstrate how much the room didn’t bother him, and thereby attracting more of Teselin’s concern. “Really—I am fine. This is fine. I am no stranger to Mister Kavanagh’s proclivities and correctly assumed his bedchambers would be a reflection of that. So…no harm done,” he blurted, going on, and on, and fervently wishing oblivion would reach out its merciful hand and snuff the life out of him.
“…Thank you,” he managed, walking to the tidiest corner of the room which housed a relatively undisturbed vanity and a chair. “For your positive outlook. I must be a failure of a Canaveris to be so dour and doubtful. For that, you must excuse me. I do have faith my uncle is in the most capable hands imaginable. No other conceivable confluence of fortunate tidings could favor him better. I suppose it’s…it’s also my sister.” What are you doing? His mind scolded. This is an inappropriate conversation for you to be having! If you continue, surely she’ll lose respect for you!
But it was too late. The moment he mentioned Sylvie, the dam inside of himself began to buckle from the floodwaters building and slamming for escape. He bowled over the chair and closed tight his eyes, mentally preparing for the onslaught. “She revealed something quite shocking, something about which I had never been privy. All these years, and I have never noticed her affliction? She never thought or trusted to tell me, just as no one thought or trusted to tell me about Uncle Ari?!” He balled his hand into a weak fist and rammed it over the vanity counter. The attached mirror quivered from the sudden, explosive vibration. “What’s worse, my father is responsible for her condition. My good-for-nothing father did this to her? Why do my family’s greatest problems stem from him? Why does no one trust me? Why must I watch everything fall apart while I am powerless to do a damn thing?!”
The dam had burst. Lowering to the chair, Nico cupped his hands over his face, burying his tears from view. “Perhaps…perhaps it is best that you leave,” he said, trying and failing to sound cool and even-toned. “Out of respect for my uncle…we should not be spotted in the same room together. I do not wish to cause him or anyone else any more trouble. I am grateful to you and to Mister Kavanagh, but you have done enough, and I will not take advantage of your kindness any further. Forgive me, Teselin…and thank you.”
The simple idea of what turned Nia’s stomach; then again, anything turned her stomach right now, as a result of the tonic she had taken to rid her stomach of all of its contents. Her refusal to hydrate wasn’t a result of petty difference of opinion as to what was best for her, but a struggle to grasp at whatever final shred of dignity she had left so as not to put anything in her weak body that would come right back up--especially not in front of Ari’s niece. For all Sylvie was convinced that Nia seldom spared her a thought, the truth was, anyone and everyone associated with Ari, the Master Alchemist considered an extension of the Canaveris lord. And just because Ari had indeed seen her at her very worst, much against her desire, did not mean that was the side she wanted to portray. And the same went for Sylvie.
Too weak to push the water away, Nia was forced to succumb and take a tiny sip. Her stomach turned, protested, and she groaned and raised a trembling hand. “Hey… remember, not my first gig.” She breathed heavily, albeit slowly, in her through her nose and out through her mouth. “Not my first time… feeling like shit. I can do this. Just need some rest… like you said. It’ll be fine. We’ve got this. Hey, Al? Could you…” She trailed off, extending a trembling hand in hopes that he could help her up to her equally shaky feet.
“We believe you, Nia. But don’t get ahead of yourself.” Isidor sighed, and moved to assist Alster in getting the Ardane woman to her feet. “Water--and rest. We can’t safely proceed until night falls, anyway. Let’s reconvene later.”
As Alster left with the weakened Ardane woman, even the socially-inept Isidor wasn’t oblivious to Sylvie Canaveris and the nervous energy emanating from the young girl. She was shaken, and… desperate. Her family was on the line, and frankly, so was any real hope of curing her of her similar curse somewhere down the line if her uncle successfully recovered. The young woman was trying so hard to be okay, to be strong, but was ultimately anything but. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told Alster, before I restored his wife’s heart.” Reaching far beyond his comfort zone, he put a hand on Sylvie’s shoulder. “I am not much of a risk-taker, Sylvie. It’s not worth it for me; failure just isn’t an option, especially when someone’s life is on the line. Especially when multiple lives are on the line. Initially, when Nia proposed this, I felt pressured into agreeing and it didn't sit well. But as the plan unfolded, and just now proved all of our theories and reasoning to have merit… I believe otherwise. This is worth the endeavor, and through some miracle, the odds are on our side. And as much as I berate Nia Ardane… she is good at what she does. As good as I am, and in some aspects, perhaps even better. Have faith in her, and have faith in this process.” Taking a slow breath, the Kristeva alchemist took a long, steady breath before he said the words he hoped to the gods he wouldn’t regret. “I promise, no one will be lost to this.”
It hadn’t surpassed Nia’s awareness that Sylvie was upset--particularly, with her. And she hadn’t meant to make the young Canaveris girl feel invalidated or to worry her for the outcome of this procedure. Perhaps she should have said more; or, conversely, perhaps she should have said less. Regardless, she knew there was nothing she could do or say to change the way Ari’s niece felt right now. “She’s got every right… I fucked up. If I had been here… if I hadn’t run off and gotten drunk and…” Nia trailed off. She didn’t have the strength or breath to elaborate, and she didn’t need to, when Alster knew exactly what she was implying. “I have to fix this. I always meant to, but now, it’s… different. Ari was under duress because of my carelessness. If not for me, he… he would still be awake. We can’t fail, Alster. I can’t fail. I…” Her eyes clouded with tears, much though she fought them in favour of not further dehydrating. “I won’t fail. Not just for Ari, or for me, but for everyone whose happiness depends on him surviving. And now I know we can do this.”
In spite of her nausea, her shakiness and her unsteady gait, Nia couldn’t help but smile, wide and genuine. “We can do this, because if it worked in another world… on another Ari… then why wouldn’t it work for us? The plan is all the same, Al. They--they did nothing different that we would do. So we’re gonna succeed…”
Rest was still an attractive option, though, and Alster’s offer to put her under quickly seemed like a good idea, given she needed as deep and restful a sleep as she could get. And she likely would have agreed, had Hadwin not greeted them unexpectedly at the top of the stairs. “...Hadwin.” Nia’s tired eyes widened with relief to see a live and well version of her friend. Of course, she had no reason to believe he had met a terrible fate in this world, her world, but that brief experience of loss--yet again--still resonated with her. The comfort of seeing his face again made her feel a little less weak. “Much as I can’t wait to drink with you again… Al’s right. Dire circumstances right now, so nothing’s allowed in my stomach but water, and I’m really struggling to keep even that down…”
As it so turned out, water was precisely what he had brought her--and not just any ordinary water. Nia shared in Alster’s skepticism when Hadwin disclosed the water’s origins, but not because she didn't believe it differed from ordinary water, but rather, for all the trouble it had caused for her and Ari in the first place. And yet, at that single, desperate moment, even if it had royally fucked up so much, the Night Garden had given her precisely what she’d wanted at that time. So who was to say… it wouldn’t grant her wish, yet again?
“...let’s see it.” Nia reached for the flask, and allowed Hadwin to uncork the top before she brought it shakily to her lips and experimentally sipped. It didn’t taste any differently from the water Isidor had offered her in his workshop, but as it trickled down her throat and into her stomach, she mercifully didn’t feel the reflex to bring it back up. So she took another experimental sip, and another, before replacing the cork. “Well, if nothing else, I can keep it down. That’s a plus. Even if it doesn’t make miracles happen, it’ll help my body recover in what little time I have to rest.”
Accepting Hadwin’s shoulder to ease the burden on her feet, Nia turned her head to deliver a genuine, “Thanks, wolf man. We’ll drink again. Might not be for a little while… but it’ll happen. I’ll personally hold you to it.” As if it was his promise to uphold, and not her own.
“Nico, I don’t think… Listen, you’re not a failure by any means. Not for feeling distressed over everything that has happened.” Teselin tried to reassure Ari’s nephew, but she wasn’t as keenly familiar with Canaveris upbringing as Nia was. Was keeping up appearances really so important that he couldn’t react to something so dire and worrying? But this didn’t just have to do with his uncle, or his level of belief that Nia could, in fact, help Ari. Teselin had always suspected, in passing, that something was amiss with Sylvie Canaveris. Prior to completely ruining their chance at a budding friendship with her wildfire emotions, Sylvie had taken her by the hand and dragged her through the streets and shops of the D’Marian settlement, unaware that although she was not a Master Alchemist like her brother, and could not detect one’s genetic make-up and its anomalies, she was sensitive to magic in any form--including curses. She’d spent enough time around Sylvie to sense that something was amiss, although she couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, and since Sylvie never offered an explanation, she never thought it appropriate to ask. Yet it hadn’t occurred to her that this was a secret she kept from her family, as well as the rest of the general public; in fact, this was the first she was hearing of it, and frankly, she was shocked.
And Nico… he was devastated. That so many people in his life were succumbing to curses, that no one had trusted him to know, and that his father had somehow played a part in it all. The young summoner hardly knew what to say, and she didn’t imagine there was anything she possibly could say that would make things right for him. Or, to even provide any comfort, for that matter. “...I don’t really understand families, considering how unconventional mine turned out. I don’t even have a father--apparently, I never did, if you can believe it.” Teselin hazarded a nervous smile, but it didn’t make a difference, so it quickly faded. “And I never met your father. But knowing your family the way that I do, I can’t imagine they’ve ever made a decision that didn’t have your best interests in mind… at least, not to their knowledge. But I sincerely doubt that it ever had anything to do with not trusting you. And Sylvie… she cares for you so much.” That was evident in the way Ari’s niece became so nervous that he spent time in Teselin’s company, the way she was always looking out for him, ever cautious about the decisions he made. Sylvie didn’t want him hurt--in any capacity. “She probably didn’t want you to share in her burden, or perry for her, because she takes her role in looking out for you so seriously. I realize this is all just speculation, but Nico, please don’t think this is about trust. And, if all bodes so well for your uncle… who is to say Alster and Isidor and Nia can’t then remove your sister’s curse? I really believe we’re on a good path right now. So please, don’t apologize for being sad… but know that it’s all going to turn out. Things are not falling apart forever. I really believe that--I wouldn’t lie to you, Nico. Not even to make you feel better.”
Teselin had been aware, from the very beginning, that given the nature of Nico’s sadness and despair, there was nothing she could do to properly comfort him. Yet, it hadn’t occurred to her that he would find himself so raw, so far gone from a happy ending, that he would completely shed all pretense… and tell her how he truly felt. “You…” The young summoner didn’t respond right away, because she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. The same person who had been defying his uncle’s wishes since the masquerade, just to see her and to spend time with her… wanted her gone. Out of respect for Ari’s wishes. “Are… a-are you sure you should be alone?” As soon as she asked the question, however, she realized it wasn’t her place to argue. Even if he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want her to be the one there with him.
“I don’t need to be here, Nico, but is it alright if I let someone know where you are?” As much as she wanted to stay, just to be there for him even as a quiet presence, she’d never wanted to get away as quickly as she did now that he’d requested she leave. Teselin didn’t make any more excuses before she turned and headed for the door. “Feel free to stay as long as you need--I know Hadwin won’t mind. I…” Feeling deflated, Teselin gripped the door handle and let her hair fall in front of her eyes. “I hope you feel better, Nico.”
The young summoner heeded Nico’s wishes and left, but she didn’t go far. For a moment, she stood outside the door, wondering--hoping--that he’d come out and change his mind. But he didn’t, and after a moment passed, Teselin sadly resigned herself to her own room, a few corridors away.
There must have been something about that water in the Night Garden, because as soon as Hadwin and Alster helped Nia to her room, she found herself asleep in moments, and slept through to the evening, just as the sun was setting. Her body felt heavy upon awakening, and it was a struggle to sit up, but she felt rested, and the nausea from earlier had passed. There was a decanter of water at her bedside and an empty cup, and her throat felt so parched that she didn’t hesitate to fill it, down the water, and then fill it again and repeat. Light-headed, yet determined, the Ardane woman smoothed her hair back, changed her outfit into something cleaner, and then left to knock on the doors of both Isidor and Alster. When she reached that of the Rigas mage, who bore the same confused expression as Isidor had (given that darkness had not fallen yet,), Nia did not hesitate to explain.
“Before you ask--I’m feeling fine. And, before you comment, yeah, I can see that darkness hasn’t fallen yet. But we’ve got something important to do before we get into things, and I think our chances will be better if I’ve got you two with me.”
“She…” Isidor sighed and aggressively scratched the back of his neck. “Wants to involve Vitali. I can’t reason with her; best to just humour her for now. And there’s no guarantee he’s even going to agree to become involved.”
“That’s why I need the two of you. Like fuck will he listen to me; we only need him in the event that… everything goes wrong. Which, it won’t,” she held up a hand as an indication her faith had not wavered, “but if nothing else… the bastard could provide some reassurance. That in case everything takes a turn… we’ve got a back up plan. Come on.” Without further comment, Nia started down the corridor, toward where the necromancer had been kept and monitored since the masquerade. “The sun’s setting fast, and I don’t know how long it will take to convince him.”
To Vitali’s credit, he had been quiet since his re-emergence into Galeyn, and hadn’t put up a fuss as a captive. No one had heard from him, and the guards had nothing to report. All of that seemed particularly suspicious, but when the trio requested a visit with Isidor’s no-longer-human brother, nothing about Vitali appeared suspicious. He was lounging on his bed, boots on his feet, overcoat draped over the footboard. If anything, he simply appeared… bored. “Ah. So today is the day? Or, rather, the night?” The necromancer sat up on their arrival, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ve been bored out of my skull. You think I haven’t been eavesdropping when I get a chance?”
Nia didn’t return his smile. She should have known he’d already be well aware of the situation--and may even have anticipated she’d seek his help. “Let’s cut the crap, then: what’s the price? If we need you.”
“And what in the world makes you think you’ll need me? You, my brother, Alster Rigas…” Vitali arched an eyebrow, looking each of them over. “Couldn’t be a better team, if you ask me. You’re going to make history tonight; or however long it takes to restore your lover to a normal, mortal composition.”
“I said we’re cutting the crap, Vitali. We don’t want to need you, but if we do, just tell us your damn price, so we know what to expect.” Nia snapped. It was clear she had already run out of patience with the necromancer before speaking to him. “And make it specific--none of this owing you a ‘favour of your choice’ shit. A lot of people here are pissed at what you ended up causing at the masquerade; surely even you know when to be reasonable.”
“Now, this is truly the most interesting solicitation of my services that I’ve ever experienced. Both begging and threatening, all in the same breath. Are you really so insecure about your skills, Ardane? And that of your friends?” The eldest Kristeva brother raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “You also think I haven’t forgotten that you once made my room explosive?”
Nia huffed and clenched her hands into fists. Running on low patience wasn’t the way to go about negotiating with Vitali. “...I can’t do this right now.” She murmured, turning to Isidor and Alster. “See if you two have any more luck with this son of a bitch… I’d say no offense to your mother, Is, but somehow, I feel like you agree.”
“It would have happened sooner or later,” Alster reasoned as the two climbed each precarious step of the dungeon’s spiraling staircase, trying to maintain his balance for two people, despite having no supporting railing to grip. “Ari was deteriorating quickly. If not today, then surely it would have happened the following day. You feel guilty because you believe your actions put him under duress, but his curse was so advanced that any stressful situation would have done this to him. In truth, we should have addressed his condition ages ago, but his health took such an unforeseen nosedive over a short period of time and—it blindsided us all, Nia. Sylvie needs an external factor to blame. Something sentient and tangible. Unfortunately, you’re her scapegoat, but once we see through these next few days, she’ll come around. We all know and understand the true culprit, and it’s the curse; not you. How can it be you when you’re the one who’s going to save him?” Alster gave a delicate, cautious smile, but it expanded when Nia’s optimism shone through her struggling, pained countenance. “We have everything we need to make this a success, and knowing it’s been done before in another world, under the same parameters and variables, gives me hope. Even more so now that we’ve experimented with Sylvie’s blood.” He echoed all of Nia’s points, but internalized his doubts, refusing to drop his smile for fear they would leak outward and show their face. True, the other Nia and her team had lifted their Ari’s insidious curse using an identical method; however, their ability to succeed hinged on an extremely important factor: Nia’s well-being. Alster noted her shallow breaths, the cold sweat on her brow, the tremors shooting through her hands and down to her feet, and allowed himself to fear a different outcome. Even if they accomplished their goal, and Ari awoke from his coma no longer afflicted, would Nia be there to greet him?
For once, Alster was grateful for Hadwin’s interruption as he hailed the struggling duo at the top of the stairs and offered a stronger arm of support for Nia to grasp. Only about a fortnight into his training regimen, the faoladh had a long road ahead of him in terms of physical recovery, but his confidence and performative flair came off as so convincing, Alster had forgotten about his status the moment Nia had changed hands. “I’ll take it from here,” Hadwin said, playfully shoving Alster away from Nia. “You’re a damn sight, too, so don’t be wasting your energy on unnecessary shit.”
Alster wanted to protest, but when Hadwin landed him a piercing, probing stare, he nodded and released Nia’s arm, relinquishing her to the faoladh’s care. To his credit, Hadwin didn’t stumble or falter once from the dead weight. Perhaps he really had recovered faster than appearances showed. “There’ll be time aplenty for that kind of drinking, believe me,” he snorted as he handed her the flask of water, supporting it from the bottom so she wouldn’t spill it all over when she took a swig. Alster looked a little alarmed, but calmed when Hadwin gave him a covert wink. A twist of confusion plied his brow. So was this not water from the stream, after all?
“Huh, you’re looking better already!” Hadwin chirped, pleased at her ability to drink it without upchucking its contents on the floor. “Way less shambling, I’d say. And psh, I’m holding you to it,” he jabbed a finger at her chest, but looked at her meaningfully for a moment before flashing a grin. “Oh you of infinite money; I sure as shit ain’t done with you yet.”
After allowing Hadwin to escort Nia to her room, Alster returned to his and Elespeth’s chambers where he could rest a few hours and finally change out of his wedding outfit, which underneath had accumulated enough sweat to explain why he felt so horrifically dehydrated. Elespeth was there, dining on a small spread of sandwiches and tea cakes brought in by the maid as a little post-wedding surprise. Dressing in a breezier and more modest outfit, he joined her at the table, his entire body sighing with relief as his muscles made contact with the chair. “This is…not how I wanted to spend our first day together as ‘renewed’ husband and wife,” he said, his sigh long and low. He stared at the table, too steeped in regret to properly look at her, even though they both understood the peculiar circumstances at play that separated them prematurely. No one was at fault, but all the same, it felt bittersweet to sit at the table with his wife and reminisce yet again on how their tiny moment of bliss had come to a sudden and predictable end. “When it comes to us, nothing ever lasts. Even so, I’m happy with whatever small droplet I can squeeze. I may not be great company for the next few hours. After lunch, I’ll need to sleep, but for now…you have me.” He lifted a goblet full of water to his lips. “Maybe one day, it will be enough.”
Nico’s behavior sickened him. It wasn’t Teselin’s responsibility to provide succor and comfort, and yet yammering on about his problems impelled her to prolong their uncomfortable discussion. Shame colored his cheeks, and concealing it with his hands only brought him more attention.
This was not what he needed; to elicit pity and attention when the sole personage who should receive the latter was currently lying unconscious in the Night Garden.
This was not what he deserved; attracting the one friend who his uncle had prohibited him to see, and then loudly mourning said uncle’s circumstances with her. How inconsiderate and insensitive could he be?!
This was not what he should have wished for; his family deliberately kept secrets from him and he thought it his due to complain about it to an outsider? Why did he believe himself so special as to disobey the rules of his family? To scheme, rebel, and dream of escaping his highly regulated lifestyle when every other Canaveris suffered in silence? What made him the exception, the one who received a self-imposed lighter sentence and treatment? Shouldn’t he also share in the burden? Instead, he was sitting in a literal wolf’s den, fraternizing with a young woman his family had banned from their home while they were facing a real dilemma. What was…what was wrong with him?!
“Forgive me, Miss Kristeva. You have been nothing but kind, and you must know this isn’t personal,” he said, sensing from the shift in her tone that he must have hit a sensitive nerve. “But I cannot betray my uncle when he is fighting for his life and his nephew, meanwhile…is fighting to defy him. It is not fair to him. I hope you understand. For now, it is best for us to, to keep our distance.”
The words stumbled and wavered out of him, pronounced in their misery, but, despite his unsteady tone, his conviction propelled his declaration forward. “Please tell not a soul where I am, lest they learn of my ingratitude as a Canaveris. I…I thank you again. For your compliance. And I bid you a good day. May it favor you better than it favors me, at the moment.” Only when she took her leave and the door clinked softly shut behind her did he raise his head from his hands, sighing long and loud, in equal turns relief and…despair. He was finally alone to do and act however he liked, but…he was alone, and he had chased out someone he had grown very fond of in such a short amount of time.
Standing from the chair, he managed to drag his feet from the vanity to the bed, where he collapsed upon the pillows, face first, and buried himself in them. Even though he was alone, he didn’t trust his cries not to make a sound as he finally unleashed his restraints, and fell into a fit of sobs.
Even Alster’s finite time with Elespeth was cut woefully short when Nia knocked on their door before their appointed hour. Alster shuffled out of bed to answer, half asleep, as his visitor, who had roped Isidor into it, explained why they were choosing to gather earlier than arranged.
“You…you want to involve Vitali?” Any lingering drowsiness vanished from his face at the audacity of involving the not-quite-human necromancer, a being she openly despised. “While I understand your reasoning, are you sure this is…wise?” Despite Isidor’s warning, he tried to reason with her anyway. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Canaverises are deeply, morally opposed to necromancy. It goes against their beliefs. They’re fine with Master Alchemy because it deals in matter just like they do, but they believe that tampering with a soul beyond the grave will tarnish that soul and disallow it from ever finding peace with the earth. You would sentence an earth mage to a fate worse than death by spiritually disconnecting them from their source of power. I’ve heard it said from the lips of Ari himself; he’d rather die than involve a necromancer.”
Since Ari dying wasn’t an option for Nia, or for the other two assembled, they all begrudgingly decided to pay the necromancer a visit. Nothing about the lack of suspicious activity or Vitali’s blasé attitude surprised any of them, especially when he made it his MO to radiate shadiness no matter the level of his involvement, or lack thereof.
“It never ceases me to wonder what you do all day,” Alster said by way of greeting, cold and clipped, as was his usual tone around Vitali. “At least you flat-out admitted your boredom. Since you’re already apprised of the situation, there’s no use spelling it out for you then.” He stood back to allow Nia a chance at negotiating for the lich’s involvement, but it became clear after a brief exchange that she’d exhausted whatever minuscule patience she had with him, and headed out the door, relinquishing the task to him and Isidor.
“This was her idea,” he lowered her voice and shifted closer to Vitali, in case Nia decided to listen at the door. “You know she’s desperate when she’d rather go deep diving into a pit of venomous snakes than involve you. But I have a counter-proposal,” he cast a quick glance at Isidor before continuing. “If his spirit still resides strongly in him, Ari would never allow you to tamper with his vessel. He prescribes to the theory that accepting any necromantic energies into himself is akin to poisoning his body and pumping it so full of impurities, that the earth will reject him upon his death. He’ll no longer be a being of the earth, but something beyond; so says Canaveris doctrine. But Nia,” he looked over his shoulder, sensing her pacing out in the hallway, impatient and frenetic, “again, she’s desperate. Much as she believes in her—in our—skills, she needs every reassurance that he’ll survive. It’s enough for you to be there, as a symbolic reminder of, well, laughably, hope. You would give her hope. Now that my preamble is out of the way, here comes my counter-proposal.” He nodded at Isidor, granting him non-verbal permission to speak his disagreements and protests before they reached a final decision. “If we buy your services, I want you to focus primarily on Nia. Ari’s survivability remains in question, but I have faith that we’ll come through for him. But who is going to come through for her should she fall? You’ve seen the state she’s in. She’s far from in peak physical condition. At this rate, she’ll end up taking Ari’s place and we are not trading one life for the other. Tell Nia what she wants to hear. That you’ll help Ari, if needed. But in actuality—you’ll be helping her. That’s my deal.”
“In exchange, here is what I’ll offer. Your freedom.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No house arrest, no guards. You’ll be released and given leave to settle wherever you like in Galeyn. Within reason, of course—and contingent upon Lilica’s final say. But you are well aware they’ll trust and listen to me if I build a strong enough case for you. Not that it would take much. If the public catches wind that you’re actively helping the popular and well-loved Lord Canaveris, wouldn’t you, for all intents and purposes, also receive accolades for your contribution? At the absolute minimum, the D’Marian settlement will no longer hold you partially accountable for the masquerade incident if you’ve been seen lending a hand to their lord.” Barring any of Isidor’s asides, amendments, or reservations, Alster extended his prosthetic hand, its steel fingers uncurling in preparation for a shake. “So, Vitali, do we have a deal? I can’t see why not, given how bored you are.”
With the proper arrangements made, Alster instructed Vitali and Nia not to broach the subject of necromancy around any of the Canaverises, knowing it was a delicate and loaded subject. Ironically, Nadira might actually favor the method given how deep her desperation had rooted, but as a precaution, they would explain Vitali’s requested presence was for a different reason.
Sure enough, come nightfall, when the trio arrived at the sanctuary with one extra member on their team, Nadira and Laz, but especially Sylvie, who paid heed to Isidor’s instruction and had joined her grandmother in hopes of convincing her to have faith in the procedure, looked rather alarmed.
“We thought it would be helpful to have a medium on our side,” Alster emphasized before the Canaverises thought the worst. “Foremost, Vitali is a medium. He’ll be able to pinpoint, with great accuracy, the condition of Ari’s spirit; whether it resides within or around his body. This will be vital information for us to know while we work in case anything changes or shifts during the process.”
Sylvie, who had danced with the lich-man at the masquerade, cordially greeted him before dipping out of his line of sight, perhaps too squeamish and put-off by his foreboding aura. Alster couldn’t blame her for her reservations. Already, he was beginning to regret enlisting the necromancer at all, knowing the fragility of Nadira’s trust in the Rigases, let alone one who was endorsing the one and potentially only person the healing Night Garden had cursed. “He apologizes for the masquerade,” he added, as if such an awkward aside would sway and convince the discerning Nadira Canaveris. Her hawk-like eyes rested on Vitali, silently dissecting his intentions and credibility. Then, with a sigh, she gestured to Laz, whose intimidating height transferred over to Vitali’s side.
“Laz will keep an eye on you, Mister Vitali. She shares a psychic link with my son, so she will know the moment you stray from your duty. You must excuse my wariness, but your stellar reputation does not precede you. Lucky for you, I no longer care for shoddy reputations so long as they can garner the results I want. Aid in my son’s recovery and prove me wrong. Then we shall speak of recompense.”
“Ah--earth mages. Always such a strange sort with their wayward beliefs.” Vitali mused, completely unruffled by Nia’s sudden, exasperated departure. It shouldn’t have come as any great surprise that he, in fact, seemed pleased at her exasperation. Like a little brother who had victoriously succeeded in one-upping his older sister by denying her something that he had that she needed… except that Vitali was far older than her. And, at this point, practically timeless, given his literal severance from humanity in his new form. “Such is the problem when you prescribe to something so unmoving as the earth. Of course, he wouldn’t take my word for it that such beliefs are little more than superstitious poppycock, but who am I to waste my time convincing him? In fact--who am I to waste my time on this issue at all, Rigas?”
The necromancer lich nodded to the door, where Nia had vehemently taken her leave and stood, plunging his hands into the pockets of his trousers. It still startled Isidor that his older brother now stood as tall as he did; somehow that, paired with the fact that the man was no longer tied to the heavens, hell, or the earth, made him all the more threatening. And for once, he wasn’t even trying to come across as a threat. “You’re right; I already know the details. Word spreads faster than disease in this quiet little kingdom. Our dear Lord Canaveris of Stella D’Mare has fallen, and it is finally Ardane’s chance to be the hero and get everyone to forgive her, all while saving her man in the process. That’s the plan, right? And--” He gestured to his younger brother and the Rigas mage, “she’s roped the two of you into it because she can’t do it alone. Of course, I haven’t had the privilege of reading up on your plan and exactly how you expect it to work, but I know the two of you well enough that I think I can connect the dots. Seems to me like you have already considered every nook and cranny of possibility; if you hadn’t already thought to work me into this plan beforehand--and considering I died, I’m sure you didn’t--I can’t see it as being wise for me to inject myself into this operation, without compromising its integrity and hindering the chances of actually saving Aristide Canaveris.”
That was when Alster went into further detail about how his idea differed somewhat from Nia’s in terms of what he wanted from the necromancer. To Nia, the most important thing was Ari’s survival, above all else. Whether or not she truly believed her own life was not at risk, or chose not to care in light of this emergency, the Master Alchemist wanted the reassurance that she would succeed in what she set out to do, which had little to do with her own well-being. But, Alster was right; it would all be for naught if Ari only lived as a result of necromancy, driving him to despair when he’d eventually come across the truth. So if even Alster didn’t agree with the Ardane woman’s plan of action regarding the involvement of necromancy… what was he even here to argue?
As soon as he explained, it all made perfect sense. “Ah--so she’s not to be reasoned with right now, I take it. Which is why you won’t argue with her. Can’t exactly say I am surprised.” Vitali chuckled, lowering his voice accordingly, so that the female Master Alchemist (who he presumed was not far from the other side of the door) would not hear. “So you want me to keep her alive--but, then, isn’t that your job?” He tilted his head and shot a pointed look at his younger brother. “Why else would you be involved than to monitor this situation?”
“I am there to monitor--but that’s where it stops, Vitali.” Isidor scrunched his face in distaste, a little ashamed that his brother was still able to so easily get under his skin. All the regret he’d felt when looking upon Vitali’s lifeless husk made him feel all the more a fool. “I don’t have the power to stop Nia from dying. I can only keep aware of her vital signs, and any indication that her body is about to shut down. Believe me, if anything were possible otherwise, I guarantee we would not be entertaining any idea of soliciting your help.”
“It’s funny you assume that I can help in the way Alster just described.” The necromancer went on, and made his way to the vanity where he took a seat on the stool. “It goes to show how little either of you know about necromancy. I can’t simply prevent people from dying in an event.” Vitali laughed and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Imagine if it were so simple; I think necromancers would have an easier time finding acceptance in the world of the living.”
Isidor frowned such that a crease formed between his brows. “Yet you saved Vega Sorde when she was essentially already dead; and Haraldur Sorde, when that self-inflicted injury should have killed him fast.”
“Her Highness of Eyraille’s soul hadn’t yet passed through the third gate of eternal sleep; I’ll admit, she was close to it, and it didn’t help that her body was a mess of wounds, but she was just on the cusp of not being too late. And her husband was far luckier; I was simply able to prevent his soul from separating from his body for a short period of time, until the Night Garden did the rest.” The necromancer spoke slowly, like an adult to a child who was struggling to understand. “But what you fail to consider is that In both of those cases, little brother, death was always initiated. Both Vega Sorde and her husband had succumbed to some level of it. I held it back--but unfortunately, the catalyst must be death, in a clinical sense, before I am able to be of any help. So, if you are asking that I save her before she succumbs… I’m afraid I cannot deliver on that. For my craft to be effective, Nia Ardane has to die first.”
As much as Isidor wanted to believe that his brother was just being his usual difficult self, the necromancer was nothing but truthful when it came to his controversial skills and his involvement in tampering with death. He exchanged a concerned look with Alster, who then glanced over his shoulder at the door, where Nia was surely standing nearby. In case she was able to listen in, the Kristeva alchemist lowered his voice. “So you’re refusing, then? To help us? Even if it means freedom from this boredom that is clearly affecting you?”
Vitali propped himself up with an elbow on his vanity, and his chin in his palm. “I said nothing of the sort about refusal, Isidor. I’m simply trying to make the both of you understand what it is you are asking, and what my involvement will look like. Furthermore, I hope you understand that if and when I must interfere… it will interrupt the process of whatever Ardane is engaged in. The implications for Canaveris, I'm sure you can deduce, will not be favorable."
"I…" Isidor faltered, realizing that, once again, Vitali was right. There was no saving the both of them if Nia succumbed to death; at that point, it would only be possible to save one of them… and the one saved wouldn't be Ari. Sighing through his nose, Isidor exchanged a helpless look with Alster. "I'm going to be looking out for Nia. If she takes a turn… I will do my best to pick up from where she left off, while you do what you can for her."
"Ah, ever the hero, hmm? I for one believe in you, little brother." Vitali grinned and straightened on the stool, no longer looking disinterested. "So we have a deal, then? Or at least, an understanding?" His gleaming, violet eyes settled on Alster. “I’m not going to be so foolish as to pretend I’m not interested in my freedom, Rigas. It’s been quite a boring time, staring at these three walls, without a single visitor, at that. So long as you understand the only role that I can feasibly play in this feat you intend to pull off.”
Clearing the distance between himself and the Rigas mage, Vitali gripped Alster’s proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. “Deceiving the Ardane woman is not something I’m unhappy to do. Believe me, I am rooting for your success--and not because I am particularly fond of Ardane or her earth mage lover, but since you have now tied me to the outcome as well.”
With the deal settled, Isidor opened the door and peered down the corridor, where Nia was pacing anxiously. Upon seeing his face, the Ardane alchemist ran back to the room and eyed the smiling necromancer suspiciously. “Well?”
“Well--consider me part of your team.” Vitali couldn’t help himself and bent into a decidedly mocking bow. “No earth mages will be dying on my watch.”
But Nia wasn’t so easily persuaded by the necromancer’s sudden show of goodwill. “And what’s the price?”
“Simple: my freedom. A means out of this room and an end to this mundane boredom. Do you know how dull four walls can become? Oh, wait--” He raised an arched eyebrow. “I suppose you can, can’t you? For the best that you left the negotiating to Alster in the end. After all, he’s the only one who really can get me out of my current predicament and back into the good graces of this kingdom.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself; there’s no guarantee that even I will find myself in the good graces of this place if we’re successful. But, unlike you, freedom isn’t the reason I am doing this.” Despite the edge in her voice, and the strong dislike of the necromancer suggested in her very body language, Nia couldn’t help but appear relieved that this last minute amendment to her plan was coming together. “Night will fall shortly; we should be making our way to the sanctuary. We’re not going to be any more prepared than we are now.”
None of it happened as fast as Nia would have liked. First, they had to explain to Vitali’s guards that the necromancer was needed to address this current emergency, but they alone were not permitted to give Vitali leave from his confinement. They had to carry the message to Chara and Queen Lilica, expressing that Alster Rigas, Isidor Kristeva, and Nia Ardane required the necromancer’s assistance in saving Ari. All parties responded as quickly as they feasibly could, considering Nia’s request to release a prisoner on such short notice, and darkness had already fallen by the time the conditions of the necromancer’s (currently temporary) release had been agreed upon. They wasted no time, traveling back to the Night Garden by carriage upon Nia’s insistence they get there in seconds instead of minutes, at which time she agreed to let Alster approach the Canaveris family to explain Vitali’s sudden involvement. Nadira might have trusted her to save her son, but she wasn’t sure that respect would be enough to convince the Canaveris matriarch that they needed the necromancer on their side.
And, Alster did a far better job introducing Vitali’s role than she would have, referring to the man by his innate skills as a medium, rather than the learned skills of a necromancer. It left something of a bad taste in her mouth to skirt around the fact that Nia had recruited him for his necromancy.
“Lady Canaveris. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Vitali bent at the waist in a bow to Nadira; to his credit, he was on his best behaviour, and at least had the cognizance to tuck away his sinister side in light of this emergency. “It is precisely as Alster says: my presence here is merely to observe, and to alert anyone to changes that might mean the difference between life and death. I will not be involved in this procedure as it stands. But, rest assured, I am offended that you’d have your lovely ladyservant bear witness to my inaction during this time.” He shot a beaming smile at Laz, whom he didn’t expect to return it.
Nia hardly paid any heed, meanwhile, and had made her way over to Ari, whose unconscious form hadn’t changed since she’d last seen him. No more waiting for optimal conditions: this had to happen now. “Ari. I saw a place that I really thought was our paradise…” She whispered to the Canaveris lord, and rested a hand upon his cheek. “But I soon realized it wasn’t. Too many people were missing. Our paradise is going to be here; and I am going to make it happen. No one, especially not you nor me, will be lost to this world.”
Pulling up a chair, the Master Alchemist took a seat next to Ari’s cot, and took one of his petrified hands in her own. She waited for Alster and Isidor to take their places, and for the others in the sanctuary to give them space. Anyone unnecessary to the procedure or the wellbeing of its participants were kindly asked to wait outside, aside from Laz, who Nadira had insisted would stay. “I’m not going to give up on you.” Nia said to Ari, before the sanctuary went silent. “So don’t give up on me.”
That evening marked the beginning of a lot of things: the hardest days and nights of Nia’s life. A breakthrough between Master Alchemy and magic. The undoing of a curse that should have been permanent. Everyone in that tiny hut, Ari included, was making history, but all Nia cared about was the aftermath. The moment that Ari opened his eyes again. The moment that she opened her eyes to see him with his eyes open. Ari was still there, still with them, as she could feel by the very fabric of his cellular makeup. The transition was slow and careful: one afflicted cell at a time, turned cursed to simply ill, by means of Alster’s magic, which rendered the fabric of the curse itself able to be manipulated by Nia’s alchemy.
The process was both very similar, and yet nothing like what they had done with Sylvie’s blood. The results unfolded the same way, but hours upon hours later, Nia was nowhere near succumbing to the exhaustion rapidly building in her body. Time had lost all meaning when her focus was solely on this task; even pain and discomfort didn’t reach her awareness. During that time, Nia Ardane had, in every sense of the word, become the vessel for change and for healing, to the point where everything that made her human--her smile and laughter, her boisterous personality, even her pain and trauma--was completely put on hold. What was perhaps most astounding was her hands, which, for the first time in a long time, remained completely still, not even a whisper of a tremor in her fingers.
Isidor had a very different experience. Unlike Nia, he remained very much aware of not only her, but himself, and the passage of time was grueling. Nighttime ticked away moment after moment. Dawn broke, daylight spilled through the windows once again. He was aware of the hunger pangs in his gut, the exhaustion and the desperate desire to lie down. He could feel it in Nia, too, how her heart and lungs worked harder and harder on continually depleted nutrition, but none of that appeared to affect the Ardane woman’s work. And when once again, the day came and went and night took its rightful place in the cycle, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer this would go on, and whether Alster was feeling the same exhaustion as he was. In a way, he almost envied Nia, knowing well what it was like to succumb to that trance and not feel the full extent of what it did to your body until it was done. His heroic feat of saving Elespeth Rigas was very much a blur to Isidor, and he didn’t imagine that Nia would remember much of this event either. But that was the danger in what she was doing: Nia wouldn’t know what was happening to her until she collapsed. And that was what made it so important that he remain awake and very much alert.
Night crept by with slow agony, and a new dawn broke even more slowly. Isidor’s stomach hurt; he felt nauseated with the effort it took to stay awake, which was saying something for someone who typically thrived on insomnia. But the little pangs and annoyances suddenly disappeared when he detected a change in Nia’s body: in particular, her heart. Her blood pressure was already worrying low, but when the rhythm of her overworked heart changed, suddenly skipping beats and losing its syncopation entirely, his own heart began to race. Do I… If he shook her to her senses now, the procedure would be incomplete, and Ari would… likely never wake up. But if he didn’t… would either Nia or Ari be alive to witness the end of this?
The Kristeva alchemist took a second to glance over his shoulder at Vitali. The lich did not need sleep; he remained with his back to the wall, arms folded, looking far more bored than tired. If there was a fluctuation in anyone’s life force, one that suggested it was about to diminish, it was in his best interests to act and alert them to an emergency. But when he turned back to Nia, the Ardane woman finally budged, and her eyes flickered open, focusing on Ari’s hands. They were warm… flesh, blood, and bone once again, along with every other living cell in his body. “...it’s done.” Nia spoke on a breath, and a slow smile touched her lips… before her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed, falling into Isidor’s arms.
“You’re going to want to act now,” Vitali mentioned casually (and rather unhelpfully), the very second that Nia Ardane’s heart stopped. “She isn’t dead--she can’t die here. But in mere moments, the quality of life she may continue to live may not be worth living.”
“Get help!” Isidor shouted at Vitali and Laz, as he hoisted Nia’s lifeless form onto the cot next to Ari’s. Laz had the good sense to send for Elias, who had recently returned after Daphne had stepped in to let him rest a while. While it was an emergency, it wasn’t one that couldn’t be dealt with promptly and effectively. Between the Gardeners, Elias, and Alster, they managed to restore the rhythm of Nia’s heart before too long. She was unconscious, but stable, and only time would tell if the procedure had changed her for the worst.
“...give her a few days. Just a few days, and she’ll wake up, like I did.” Isidor spoke with exhausted certainty. He couldn’t allow himself to believe otherwise. “But Ari… Ari is no longer cursed. Instead, he is now ill, and we have to deal with that to ensure he recovers just as steadily.”
A fathomless corridor rolled out before Ari’s feet, stretching on until the end of everything. He didn’t know how he knew that, but somehow, he’d come to this place equipped with a crucial understanding; he was walking to his death.
His footfalls floated over the tiles, making no sound, no vibration, no impact, as if his surroundings were nothing more than something imagined from his memories. The Canaveris estate, perhaps, but stretched out and engorged to the size of a miniature universe, complete with impossible stairways plunging into oblivion and doors bleeding like an oil painting left out in the rain. In fact, wherever he looked, he noticed the same pattern. Walls sagged and melted, revealing spills of the impossible dark cosmos beyond. Gilt chandeliers, robust multi-paneled friezes, and marble-statued showpieces unraveled like thread as the containment of his consciousness steadily atrophied.
“Walk,” a breeze with a voice fluttered by his ear. Nodding obediently, Ari swept one foot in front of the other and wandered down the crumbling corridor. If this was the end of everything, his everything, why not accept his defeat gracefully, as a proud earth mage who lived according to the tenets of his people? For, to cross these halls burdened by regrets would show disrespect to the natural order of life and death, and it was here where he needed to tread—alone, prepared, focused. Any wavering or doubt could trap him within the confines of his deconstructing artifice for eternity. When death comes for you, an old Canaveris adage formed in his head, struggling to complete the phrase. When death comes-
When DEATH comes
—When death
—CoMeS…
It never goes–
Without taking
a…
~Memento~
The more he walked, the more he felt himself fragmenting, physically and mentally. First, the concept of words, of language, floated out of his cognizant grasp. Next, his hands followed, disintegrating like ash in a fire. Gradually, he was losing his sense of self to the point where, had he resisted the transition into entropy, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not in a domain where time ceased to function. Where his memory and identity as Aristide Canaveris were among the first layers to be stripped by the cosmic wind. But while he was ceasing to exist, he could still hear, on a plane beyond this one, outside voices. The most dominant one kept telling him to walk, but there were several others sailing on a different wind, guiding him towards a different direction…and purpose.
“Turn back. Turn back now!” The dissenting voice intercepted the undisputed authority of the progenitor’s narrative, the command so forceful that Ari listened, and stopped, and turned back whence he came. The hallway flooring was still intact, but like his rotting environment, it was in danger of coming apart and spiraling away. He hesitated to continue.
“Go!” That insistent second voice commanded. “Now! Move—before it’s too late!”
Ari nodded. And ran. The wind behind him howled and roared, but he didn’t falter, didn’t misstep, now that the new voice had found and attached to his hidden will and its promise to survive. Not that he consciously realized why he abandoned one command for a more frantic, frazzled iteration, but now he was flying across the cracking tiles, collecting all the things he left behind as he voyaged backwards; his hands, his name, his purpose, the thoughts and memories that comprised the self, his connection to the earth and the people therein. Nadira. Lazuli. Sylvie, Nico, his nephews, Isidor. …Nia.
The faster he ran, the faster his universe recovered its shape. The walls re-erected, straight and solid. The doors, the decorations, the floors, reconstituted to their former glory. Not a speck of the encroaching void remained to be seen as the last moments of his mortality transitioned from dissolution to…just a dream. A harmless, innocuous dream where he found himself roaming the halls of the Canaveris estate at Stella D’Mare. Alone…but not lonely. Because he knew what awaited him behind the door at the end of this hallway. Reaching out, he pulled down the latch, pushed the groaning door free of its frame, and stepped through the threshold, letting the light of the sun bathe him in exultations of life and living. As he took a huge, reinvigorating breath, he opened his eyes to the world he’d almost departed, and took it all in like a newborn.
He was laying on a cot inside a tiny, unfamiliar hut. Vines and various greenery crept up the walls, giving off a quaint, rustic vibe. He squinted through the partially-curtained windows, where the sun at full strength cast its rays close to his face. Before he could make any further observances, the chair beside him creaked, and a figure stood in his line of view, blocking the sun and obscuring their features within the penumbra.
“Ari!” She spoke—more a gasp than a sound—and his slow-churning recollections finally recognized the shape and sound of his mother. She scooped her warm hands in his, squeezing them in tender affection. “You’re…finally awake!”
Finally awake. His brow twisted in confusion. “How…how long have I been asleep?” It was a strain to speak. Every muscle in his throat constricted. His lungs felt leaden, full of liquid. Soft panic suffused his features. A flare-up?
Instead of emulating stone however, he emulated water as a wet, hacking cough erupted out of his mouth, too sudden to cover in time. “Apologies,” he muttered before he rolled over on his cot and succumbed to a ferocious coughing fit the likes of which he’d never experienced. Minutes rolled by before he was able to accept his mother’s proffered cup. With her help, he sat upright against his cot’s rearranged pillows and took a few delicate sips of water, careful not to agitate his hair-trigger cough. “What…happened?” When he brought the cup to his lips a second time, he noticed something…different about his hands. How easy and unencumbered they felt. Absolutely no resistance followed as he tilted the cup, as though all the curse-fueled stone dormant inside of him had been replaced with fluid. His joints didn’t lock, didn’t creak, didn’t freeze or falter or pinch at his wrists. His eyes widened—a bad idea, in hindsight. He promptly squeezed them shut as a welter of tears formed beneath his bleary and sensitive lids. He was burning alive from the inside, slow cooking in a pot over a simmering flame. And yet, he felt…so much lighter, as if someone had unshackled him of his lifelong restraints and opened the prison door free. Clarity dawned on him just then. He didn’t need his question answered anymore.
“She…Nia, she,” he swallowed, trying to suppress another round of coughing.
“Yes.” Nadira lightly stroked one of his arms, a curious tremor in her voice. “She did. Exactly as promised. Ari, you’re,” the tremor intensified, “you’ve been cured! The curse…will be an issue for you no longer.”
Ari slid one eye open, catching sight of his mother falling to her chair and holding her hands to the front of her face as she silently wept. He reached out a strangely fluid (also achey, but not stiff) hand to her, managing to touch the tip of her shoulder. “No need to worry for me anymore, mama,” he rasped out a whisper. “The worst…I imagine the worst is over, yes?”
Nadira nodded vigorously, but did not release her hands from her face. “Yes. It appears that way, yes. It…please forgive me, Ari, but I thought I had nearly lost you. Now that you are here, and awake, I…I am afraid I’ve lost all my senses!” She blubbered, seething out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I should have had more faith that everyone would come through on their promises. Perhaps I could have saved myself some grief…and extremely poor decisions on my end—but enough about me.” With a handkerchief, she dabbed the ends of her tear-stained eyes and eased into a weepy smile. “All you need do is withstand this nasty bout of illness and all will be well. There are plenty of people who are eager to see you.”
“Ah, yes. I assume so.” He returned her smile. “But…” Something caught his eye. Turning his head, he saw her in the bed opposite him. Hooked up to tubes and deathly pale, Nia rested, looking to all the world critically lost in her coma. His smile quickly faded.
“My gem,” Nadira tutted, sympathetic, “she just needs a little bit of time. But she will recover. So say the doctors and the Gardeners,” Nadira explained, gently. “Three days have passed since the end of your procedure. Master Kristeva assures me her current condition is not uncommon, as he, too, suffered a similar affliction after restoring Lady Rigas’s heart. She shall awaken, rest assured.”
Nodding mutely, Ari kicked his legs out of bed and wobbled to his feet. Between the fever and spending the last week bedridden, he had to grope the walls for balance as he made the uneasy journey to her bedside. Nadira was by his side in moments, but he politely declined her supportive arm. Sinking into the mattress, he reoriented himself before leaning forward and placing a featherlight hand upon her arm. She was so cold.
“Nia. If you can hear me…I am well. Absurdly ill, but it is a mere annoyance compared to what you’ve accomplished. I cannot fathom the lengths you went through to expunge this curse from my system. You are my savior. A miracle. And,” tears sprang to his eyes, actual tears not born of light sensitivity, “you should enjoy the fruit of your labors. I promise you, I will do everything to reinstate your reputation in Galeyn. If you can do the impossible, then I will surely follow your inspiring model to succeed where others fear to tread.” He moved his hand upwards to cup her cheek. “My love and respect for you are boundless. Please, when you are ready, come back to me. The future you have carved for us…it is here. Thank you, Nia.” The tears streamed down his cheeks in greater force. “Thank you.”
When he received the message that Ari had awakened and was requesting an audience with him and Isidor at their earliest convenience, Alster was happy to oblige. Although they jump-started Ari’s procedure a little less than a week ago, it felt like it had happened in a distant universe for how far removed he felt from the entire picture. Like Nia, Alster had fallen into a trance while he worked on converting Ari’s curse cells into something workable to transfigure. Considering his existence straddled two different worlds already, it wasn’t difficult to retreat into the Serpent-dominant aspects of his persona and survive the demanding, laborious, and tedious task by borrowing the stamina of the cosmic beast, whose identity had become practically synonymous with his.
Alster Rigas was not quite human anymore; he hadn’t been since he merged destinies with the Serpent. Such a thought used to bother him, but the periodical existential crises soon wore away in favor of the power he’d received in return, which mitigated the frailty of his sickly human vessel and allowed him to perform such impressive feats of endurance without succumbing to too much backlash during the aftermath. Enough so that he’d aided Isidor in delivering the unconscious Nia to Elias and Senyiah’s care before her condition turned critical—a decision that, begrudgingly, they could not have made without Vitali’s well-timed input. Had they acted just a minute delayed, Elias would have administered his emergency protocols too late, and Nia…well, it was as Vitali said. The Night Garden would keep her alive, but in some barely functioning, shambling state of vitality. While Alster had done little else but sleep off his debt for the last three days, he had a palace attendant regularly update him on Nia and Ari’s status. Although he had heard little about the former aside from the fact that she was stable, news about the latter had impelled him to get dressed and leave his bed—and his chambers—for the first time in several days.
Happy for Elespeth’s absence, as he felt guilty for lately being little more than a lifeless body, he got dressed, had a smile bite to eat, and headed for the Night Garden. When he entered the sanctuary, Isidor was already there, having arrived scarcely several minutes beforehand. Ari was looking…well, he certainly had better days. His illness did him no favors, transforming his hair into a spindly mess of spider legs and his skin, the inside of a condensing glass, but he was awake, aware, and mobile, as evidenced by his slender fingers, which showed no difficulty in wielding the utensils provided him for an early lunch in bed. Nadira did not leave his bedside—but curiously, Laz was nowhere to be found. Nia, unfortunately, hadn’t stirred.
“My apologies.” Ari slid aside his tray of food, which consisted only of a bowl of broth and a light salad—half-eaten. The Canaveris lord seemed far too ill to be holding court in his sick room if he couldn’t even stomach finishing a meal. He brought a handkerchief to his mouth, sparing his visitors the transmission of infected particles into the air. “I realize I am in no state to allow visitors. As it stands, I will not even allow my niece and nephews to enter. Not until I resemble more than a plague-ridden half-corpse. No need to worry them into believing I have contracted something worse than my curse. Alas, I could not wait for my recovery before I made contact with my saviors.” He bowed his head so low and severe, it hung almost horizontally from his neck. “I cannot thank you enough, Master Kristeva, Lord Rigas, for the exhaustive undertaking of ensuring my survival and wellbeing. Let it be known that this humble servant is forever in your debt. When I am well, I shall do nothing but extol your names until they shine as bright as the stars. Well,” he remedied, chancing a peek at Alster beneath the hanks of his unkempt, spidery hair, “I daresay your star shines bright enough without my endorsement, Lord Rigas. Be that as it may, my sentiments still stand. Especially…” raising his head, he glanced askance at the unconscious lump in the bed beside him, intense worry forming on his brow. For someone who rarely found himself at a loss for words, Ari faltered as he stared so fondly and so longingly at the woman who made this entire improbable venture possible for him to obtain. “She deserves the world from me…and then some. But I cannot do a thing for her if she does not awaken. Please tell me…will she be alright? I know I must exercise patience, but…it rather stings, to see her so debilitated on my account. If only I could ease her burden…”
