The day and a half spent treating Aristide Canaveris by trading a curse for illness was in and of itself a blur to Isidor Kristeva, but the days following proved just as ambiguous, and both his working and long term memory were severely compromised by lack of sleep and nutrition. The Master Alchemist thought he’d gained a second wind when Nia, collapsed in his arms, took a turn for the worst and suffered temporary cardiac arrest. For a moment, she could have been considered clinically dead, but the healers and Gardeners sprang into action before it evolved into a dire emergency. The Ardane woman was unconscious, but stabilized, and would likely remain in such condition for a while.
Remembering his promise to Nadira, the exhausted Kristeva brother didn’t hesitate to rush to her side, and had even insisted he stay for a while. “I know what to expect. I can tell what’s normal in this aftermath,” he tried to explain to Elias and the Gardeners, placing a hand on Nia’s exposed arm. “I’ll stay a while to ensure she remains stable, considering the circumstances. If anything seems awry--”
“Mister Kristeva: please forgive my forward speaking, but both you and Mister Rigas have overexerted yourselves.” It was Senyiah, the Head Gardener, who put a hand on his arm and drew him away from the unconscious Master Alchemist on the cot. “I cannot in good faith allow you to completely burn out like a candle that has lost its wick. Please rest assured that miss Ardane will be carefully monitored by capable people while you get the rest that you need…”
Isidor thought he would have been prepared to argue under such circumstances; all of this had been possible because of him, and Nia, and Alster, and how could the Gardeners and physicians possibly understand the nuances of this first-time procedure on all parties? But when he found himself being led out of the sanctuary by Senyiah and another Gardener, he didn’t realize how dizzy or weak he was until the sunlight hit his pupils, and he found himself needing to lean on the arm guiding him. He couldn’t even compare to the level of spent that Nia was at, but two days without food or water or any semblance of sleep had in fact rendered him in need of help.
From that point forward, everything seemed to be happening around him as opposed to to him. Isidor vaguely recalled being taken deeper into the garden and handed something to drink. It didn't have much of a taste, but it made his head ache less, and his limbs didn't feel as heavy. Following that, the Master Alchemist only remembered waking up to intense sunlight, with cool air on his skin and a soft, damp sensation beneath him. He was not in the comfort and privacy of his bedchambers, but appeared to still be in the Night Garden, cushioned not by a mattress, but grass and flowers beneath his bare skin.
His stomach growled loudly as soon as he sat up, but light-headedness didn’t accompany the painful hunger on his gut. “What…” Isidor’s voice felt and sounded gravelly, raw, and it was then that he noticed he was without a shirt (though mercifully, his bottom half remained clothed.) “What happened… to my shirt?”
“Mister Kristeva?” A young man in Gardener’s robes approached, carrying what was unmistakably the pale grey tunic that Isidor had been wearing while aiding Nia in her quest to save Ari’s life. “How are you feeling? Senyiah suggested rest with direct contact with the Night Garden’s soil to promote fast recovery. You appear far less pale than you did a day ago!”
“A day…?” The Master Alchemist reached for the proffered tunic and scratched the back of his head. Had he actually been asleep for an entire day, without checking up on Nia? “I… I need to see Nia. To see that she is alright…” He announced as he stood slowly. While he felt sluggish, and desperately hungry, he was far from incapacitated. Certainly well enough to check on the Ardane woman’s condition…
“The Master Alchemist in the sanctuary is stable, Mr. Kristeva. Still unconscious, but stable.” The Gardener explained without hesitation. “There has been someone with her around the clock; no change yet. Lord Canaveris is also recovering steadily. Rest assured, you will be one of the first to know when Miss Ardane awakens, but please, go and get something to eat. The Night Garden can only go so far in maintaining your strength without proper sustenance.”
Isidor could have argued, could have ignored the Gardener’s advice and charged straight for the sanctuary, but… what would he have gained? Nia was stable but still unconscious, and Ari could do nothing more but rest and wait for the Night Garden to siphon away the sickness that had taken the place of his curse. There was nothing he could do for either of them at this point in time. So the Kristeva alchemist ultimately heeded proffered advice, donned his shirt, and slowly but steadily left the garden and made for the palace. When he arrived, he was greeted by Queen Lilica, who bad been informed as to the emergency that required his and Alster’s presence for several days, and asked after his wellbeing. He didn’t quite know what to say: he was alive and well, hungry, mildly exhausted, and… empty.
And well after he was full, and rested another night, that feeling of emptiness remained. The procedure had been successful, as they had all hoped it would, but it wasn’t finished yet, and until Nia Ardane opened her eyes… his promise to Sylvie would be left unfulfilled. And that didn’t sit well at all with him. He considered speaking with Alster, but knowing the Rigas mage was just as exhausted (if no moreso) than he was, he ultimately chose to grant his friend space and time to rest. He needed that space as well, and welcomed the quietude and familiarity of his bedchambers. They would send for him when (or if) he was needed, and until then… all anyone could do was wait.
The moment finally came two days later when an envoy from the Night Garden knocked on his door, and announced that he was wanted at the sanctuary. Having just recently awoken (his stay in the Night Garden had really improved his ability to sleep), it took the Master Alchemist a beat to register what was happening, or what it could mean. “Is everything alright?” The blear-eyed man asked, fumbling for his spectacles in the pocket of his trousers. “What has happened with Nia? Is she--”
“Miss Ardane is still unconscious, I’m afraid,” the enjoy explained calmly; Isidor should have read into his expression that there really was no reason for alarm. “But, it isn’t as though she has taken a turn for the worst. All attending physicians and Gardeners have noted she’s remained stable. I’m actually here before Lord Canaveris has finally awakened, and he seeks your audience.”
“Ari is awake?” Isidor immediately felt his shoulder leaden with guilt. His thoughts had been so focused on Nia, and whether or not she would come out of this unscathed, that he had forgotten Ari was a part of this as well, and his recovery was just as important. Well, this was a positive turn of events, if the earth mage was awake: right now, small victories would have to keep him going. “Absolutely; I will go see him at once.”
Tying his neck-length hair back from his face, he made a futile attempt to brush the wrinkles out of his tunic which he had slept in for two nights, now, and hastily made his way to the Night Garden. Sure enough, upon arrival at the sanctuary, Ari was not only awake, but alert and on his feet. “Ari; I’m so glad to see you’re finally awake.” Isidor confessed, trying not to focus on the still, cold form of Nia out of the corner of his eye. How long had it been, now, since she had collapsed? Three days and nights? “How… are you feeling? I can’t imagine you’re at your best, but… it is so reassuring to see you on your feet.”
The Canaveris lord sounded congested, and his rich skin was a little greyer than what was normal, but not in the same way it appeared when it turned to stone. There was absolutely no reason for him to believe that Aristide Canaveris was, at this point, anything but flesh and blood, but he couldn’t help himself. “...may I…?” The Kristeva brother extended an inquisitive hand, and only at Ari’s nod of consent did he make contact with his wrist. It was precisely as he’d expected: flesh, blood, and bone. Isidor remotely detected vague anemia and the suggestion that Ari’s immune system was working overtime to fight off the illness that sent his homeostasis array, but otherwise, he was… alright.
“...a year ago, when I was first sent for to treat Elespeth Rigas for her heart condition, I was concerned for the success at repairing that single organ.” Isidor dropped his hand and shook his head slowly. “I had a fear that I would fail. If you had asked me then, I would never have believed what I am experiencing right now. I’d never have dared to believe this would be at all possible…” But Nia believed, he thought guiltily, and because she believed, she was successful. Not once had there ever been a doubt in her mind: she’d covered all possibilities, including death, such that she went so far as to involve Vitali. If only he’d had an ounce of her confidence. “I was afraid… I had this dream that… no, nevermind.”
Isidor shook the thoughts from his head before he could elaborate. Not that dream again, where Ari--a brother to him--had died in his arms because he couldn’t save him. Ari wasn’t his brother, and he hadn’t been key to saving him or restoring his health. Nonetheless, it felt as though that lingering nightmare was now null and void. But that nightmare had never involved Nia, and that the Ardane woman was the last variable left unchecked meant that the ordeal wasn’t over. But it had only been three days, right? Considering the feat she had accomplished, it wasn’t abnormal that she was still unresponsive…
Before he could ask any more questions or speak what was on his mind, he and Ari were joined by another presence. “Alster.” Isidor’s dark eyes lit up with some encouragement upon seeing the Rigas mage. He and Alster had neither spoken nor seen one another since they had completed the procedure, and he had been unsure about bothering his friend, expecting that he needed rest and recuperation as much as Nia did. He almost asked Alster if he was faring well, but considering he looked as world-weary as he also felt, the answer was already obvious, so he opted only for a brief nod in greeting.
So Ari had summoned the remainder of those involved in his procedure, expressing nothing but gratitude to Alster and himself for their help, but… that couldn’t have been the only reason. And, frankly, Alster might have deserved the credit, but Isidor felt awkward as a recipient of such praise. “Alster most certainly deserves your thanks, Ari, but I don’t consider myself a saviour of yours.” He confessed, casting his dark eyes downward toward his boots. “I was merely present to keep an eye on things. Alster and Nia were the ones doing all of the work, all things considered…”
Ari’s eyes drifted to Nia when Isidor mentioned her--and he immediately understood the real reason for this summons. No amount of explaining what to expect in the aftermath of something as monumental and groundbreaking as what he, Alster, and Nia had accomplished would have properly prepared the Canaveris lord, especially when waiting for an unknown prognosis was the only promise he could expect.
“When I repaired Elespeth Rigas’s heart, the procedure took less than half the time than what Nia spent on removing your curse. I was out for approximately three days, and, well… if my mind is not entirely boggled, it has been about three days since she put all of her skills and expertise to work for something that took so much longer.” Isidor tried to frame his response in a way that was both logical, yet would prevent the Canaveris lord from despairing over his unconscious lover. “Given those circumstances, I honestly would not expect her to be awake so soon, Ari. What I was able to do in about a day--heal a single organ--Nia was able to do tenfold in just a little more than double that time. Part of me still doesn’t understand how she was ever capable, but, that is just the perfect example of difference in expertise. Nia was always the most capable in terms of restoring your health… and she knew it would not be easy. On you, or on her. But so long as she is stable…”
The Kristreva alchemist turned to rest a hand upon her forehead, and went silent. A beat passed, but his face betrayed nothing of what he felt, or what was going through his mind. “...so long as she remains stable, I don’t see reason for concern that her condition will take a turn for the worst. The Night Garden will not let her die, and the healers and physicians have phenomenally ascertained that she remains hydrated, and her body continues to receive essential nutrients. Ultimately…” He removed his hand from Nia’s cool forehead and turned back to Ari. “I’d be lying to you if I told you precisely when she will awaken, Ari. What she did has never been done before; you are a miracle standing among us. But Nia trusted the process, and she succeeded. So we must trust what remains of this process, that she will awaken. Nothing, here, suggests to me that she won’t.”
Isidor smiled and placed a gentle hand on Ari’s shoulder. “Focus your energy on yourself; rest well, take whatever the physicians and Gardeners provide for you. Imagine the joy Nia will feel when she awakens to find you not only healthy, but without the shadow of that curse at your heels. If anything happens to you or to Nia that requires our assistance, rest assured we will be here in a heartbeat.”
Out of reassuring words to offer the Canaveris lord, Isidor and Alster convinced Ari to return to resting his body, and left the sanctuary when he appeared sufficiently placated for the time being. Alster attempted to make small talk, asking after the Master Alchemist’s well-being these past handful of days, but Isidor’s mind was elsewhere. And his carefully cultivated expression quickly crumbled, as soon as they were well out of sight and earshot of the sanctuary.
“Alster… I know you’re probably exhausted. But later, when Ari… When he’s asleep, can you check on Nia? I don’t mean her health: she’s stable. As she can be in this state, I mean. I didn’t feel anything alarming but… but…” Isidor bit down on his lower lip and scratched the back of his neck. The bite of his blunt nails in his skin grounded him in the presence of his own anxiety. “She’s not… it doesn’t feel as though she’s just asleep. She’s unconscious, but it feels like even more than that. More than a coma… But you, you have the ability to see into people’s minds. Parts of the consciousness that they might not even be aware of. Later, I just need you… I’d rest easier if you could confirm she’s just in too deep to wake, yet. And that her stasis isn’t… isn’t due to something more serious that I cannot detect.”
No Gardener, physician, or force of heaven or earth could wrench Nadira Canaveris from her son during the long, arduous days of his postoperative coma. Even when Senyiah made her stand outside the sanctuary at the height of her son’s procedure, allowing only the most relevant persons entry (plus Laz, who acted as the eyes and ears in her stead), Nadira stationed herself beside the door and refused to budge for anything. Not for sleep, for nourishment, or for water. Clutching the blood-soaked pendant to her chest, she would press her ear to the door, and often, intent on gleaning any information pertaining to the procedure’s status, favorable or grave.
She hadn’t bluffed when she informed Isidor about her emergency plan, should things turn sour. The presence of the notorious necromancer, Vitali Kristeva, prompted her to exercise hypervigilance. After all, she was no fool. They hadn’t recruited him solely for his mediumship abilities, and if they dared use his repugnant skills on her son when she would happily make the sacrifice for Ari’s continued survival, then she would make each of them pay for their ignorance—Isidor, especially, for his unconvincing argument citing her useless and unnecessary contribution. For, if that were the case, if her failsafe would complicate and potentially upend the delicate parameters of Ari’s procedure, then why involve the necromancer at all when he might also do the same?
Sylvie, for her part (stars bless her), stayed by her grandmother, leaving only to fetch some essentials and basic comforts; a chair for sitting, plenty of water, light snacks, a pillow and quilt—anything she thought Nadira might need. So as not to worry her granddaughter, she partook in some water, ate a few pieces of fruit, sat down, on occasion, and “attempted” to nod off to sleep (when in actuality she rested her head against the window for ease of listening to any worrisome vibrations emanating from inside). Rest was the furthest thing from her mind, and no temptation would sway her decision to step in if matters turned dire…and before the accursed necromancer could act.
As the first evening ceded to dawn, which proceeded to morning, then noon, then dusk, someone new joined her by the sanctuary door. At first, the newcomer said nothing, leaning one leg against the wall and crossing her hands under her arms. Then, sighing, she unhooked them, bringing them animatedly forward as she turned and spoke.
“Lady Canaveris…your son will live.” She laid one luminous eye on Nadira’s neck and the gold chain ringed around it. “I ask you to direct your concerns elsewhere—and away from that pendant.”
Nadira’s weary head snapped up to regard the young woman, who she knew for her pointed ears and incriminating eyepatch partially concealing her burn-damaged face. “Tivia Rigas. Forgive me if I cannot take your counsel at face value, much as I am endlessly grateful for your forward thinking on the evening of the masquerade. I simply cannot relax my guard for pretty words of reassurance.” She loosened the grip on her pendant, trying not to appear so obvious as to what she planned on doing with it.
At that, the star-seer shrugged, seemingly unfazed. One hand, however, curled around the other to pick rather nervously at her nails. “Your skepticism is far from uncommon, Lady Canaveris. However,” she tilted her head towards the door, “it’s beneath me to speak empty words of comfort. I don’t prophesy on a lark. Feel free to see for yourself.” No sooner had she spoken the words than a flurry of new activity fluttered about in the sanctuary. As Nadira stood from her chair, the door burst open as Isidor and Alster called for reinforcements. Elias and two Gardeners, on standby outside, swept into the hut posthaste, leaving Nadira breathing in the wake of their kicked-up down-breeze.
“What is happening?!” she demanded just as Laz stepped over the threshold, appearing dazed. Unmoored. Thinking the worst, Nadira stuck her head through the doorway, frantically searching for her son amidst the chaos. “Ari! Is Ari—“
“—Ari will live,” Laz announced, though her voice sounded cracked. Deadened, almost. Before Nadira could inquire further on the golem’s lackluster and tonally inappropriate report, she wandered off, away from the sanctuary and her master, all hunched and lost.
Nadira’s mouth opened, at a loss for what to say or how to react. Until she saw where the majority of people focused their attention. Everyone inside the sanctuary was surrounding Nia, who, slumped over and small, had fallen unconscious. Gardeners prayed for the Night Garden’s healing magic as Elias pumped a syringe of liquid into her chest.
Direct your concerns elsewhere…
“Was that what you mean—“ but when Nadira turned to face the mysterious Rigas woman, she had vanished, as though she were an illusion, or a figment of an overactive imagination.
As the chaos unfolded inside, Nadira brought a hand to her face. While there had existed the very real possibility of Nia succumbing to grave complications as a side-effect of her heroic actions, it didn’t occur to Nadira that it would actually happen, so focused was she on her son and no one else. Now that Nia’s life was in danger of flickering out, Nadira froze, at a loss for how to feel or where to direct her attention. At Ari, who two figures had already declared would survive, or at the woman who made Ari’s projected survival possible at all?
Sylvie, who had also seen everything, mirrored a similar reaction, but one twisted both in shock and…guilt. “Oh Nia,” she whispered, twisting the tourmaline ring around her raw, raw finger and falling over her grandmother’s shoulder to weep.
Three days had passed since then. Three days of Nadira tending to her unconscious son’s needs as well as Nia’s. When other attendants assured her they would handle the work, she sent them each a withering glare. They left her to her own devices after that. She assisted with little tasks; checking their vitals and sponging their faces and feet with water, mainly, but sometimes, she’d speak to them. Always a one-way conversation, of course, but she’d imagine their response and comment upon it as though they were fully awake and engaged. Other times, she would recite stories from memory; fairytales or exaggerated histories of Stella D’Mare, mythologized for drama. She spared no details, fanfare, or character voices either, when the narrative called for a little personalized flavor.
The day Ari awoke, it took every bit of her self-restraint not to break down sobbing in front of him. She only half succeeded, silently weeping in her hands while he, feverish, sickly, and dully aware of his circumstances, needed to comfort her. So much for maintaining her bastion of strength. Nadira Canaveris, once known during her rule as Lady Ironblood, let herself become soft and tepid, but perhaps now that the nightmare was at last reaching its terminus, she would finally be able to breathe once again. Ari…was alive! Awake. Not yet well, but Isidor, on his arrival, cupped Ari’s wrist and confirmed the most hopeful and wondrous news: not a trace of the curse existed in his body.
“Compared to my insidious curse, weathering this illness is a mere trifle. Rest assured. Isidor; I will fare just fine,” Ari said, smiling his most gracious smile despite the pain of discomfort weighing heavily on his perspiring brow. His eyes, similarly, had lost some of their previous luster, too overcome with ague to express the full range of emotions he likely wanted to feel; relief, joy, or excitement. However, Nadira wasn’t blind to the dispirited slump in his shoulders every time he glimpsed Nia on the bed. It seemed he wouldn’t allow himself to feel much of anything until he gauged her wellness and considered it solid. “Nia…she is nothing short of amazing, is she not?” His smile turned wistful as he pulled a quilt close to his chest. “Not to discredit your or Lord Rigas’s tireless efforts, of course.” He nodded to Alster, who had arrived just moments prior. “I take neither of your contributions lightly. Yes, one might argue Nia and Lord Rigas did the most, but you, Isidor, performed no small feat, either. I imagine you also needed to remain awake for…two entire days, from my understanding? Nothing you have done for me should be discounted, when your involvement was also paramount to this procedure’s success. Whoever lent a hand towards my survival has my deepest, unparalleled gratitude. All of you will be hailed as heroes of the highest order. I shall host a grand ceremony and honor you, no holds barred.” He rested his feverish eyes upon Nia once again, his sick-fragile voice breaking like glass. “And Nia will obtain the good publicity she desires and deserves, even if I must sacrifice my popularity to achieve it.”
Reading Ari’s subtext, the light despair tucked under his words, Alster, like Isidor, took a similar approach with regard to Nia. “She made a miracle happen, Ari, and you honestly believe she won’t reawaken to reap the rewards of her labors? Have faith that she’ll come through. Isidor’s right. It stands to reason that Nia requires double the recovery time, considering the monumental effort exerted on her body. As a frame of reference,” he placed a hand over his chest, “the only reason I’m even standing right now is that I borrowed from my external resources.” No one had to ask Alster to elaborate when it was clear his euphemism referred to his pact with the Serpent. “Without them, I guarantee I’d be in far worse shape than Nia. My natural endurance pales in comparison to the modified resilience of a Master Alchemist, at home in her craft.”
“I suppose you are correct.” While Ari didn’t sound too convinced, the tension in his shoulders relaxed somewhat following Isidor’s touch-based assessment of Nia’s condition. “I shall trust in all facets of the process, as you say. Thank you. I—“ his face twisted as an eruption of coughs racked his form, bowling him forward in bed from the force of his wet hacking. Once his episode passed, minutes later, he took a conservative sip of honey-lemon tea offered by Nadira, chest heaving. “I shall…take your counsel…and rest,” he wheezed, winded and out of breath. “Good day, Isidor. Lord Rigas. We shall revisit this conversion in the…in the coming days as we continue to…to monitor—“
“—Goodness, Ari, hush. Grant yourself a vocal reprieve and drink your tea. You will wax verbose once you’ve had time to properly convalesce,” Nadira scolded, to which Ari complied with a silent nod, but not before waving his farewells to Alster and Isidor as they exited the sanctuary door.
As they retreated, Alster turned to Isidor and made some small talk, curious about how he fared health-wise over the last several days, but judging by his short, distracted responses, it soon became obvious he had something on his mind that needed addressing. “More than a coma?” He repeated, frowning. Regrettably, he hadn’t thought to run a hand over Nia and take stock of her mental facilities, but it was to be expected, given his own muddied mental faculties at the moment, which colored his world in frosted glass and distorted his senses in kaleidoscopic fragments. Concentration itself proved difficult, but he placed it all into heeding Isidor’s concerning prognosis. “I’ll look into it,” he promised, doing everything not to crane his head over his shoulder at the sanctuary, in case anyone spotted his worrying glance and pondered the worst. “But if it’s anything like Ari’s coma, the one he suffered before we eliminated his curse, it…he was so far away, Isidor,” he admitted, sawing his teeth against his bottom lip. “Like he was deep underwater, resting at the bottom of the ocean where nothing can survive. The fact that he was able to swim to the surface after so short a time frame is itself a miraculous feat, knowing how far he retreated. When I was siphoning and reconfiguring his curse energy, I caught stray, empathic flashes of his battle for existence and…he very nearly died. Or the closest thing to dead in the Night Garden.” He fell into a careful whisper, casting cautious glances to ensure no one overheard. “He was mere moments from crossing the threshold before becoming brain-dead. Do you think Nia might have co-opted or inherited this holdover from Ari, either willfully or unconsciously? No; forgive me,” he shook his weary head. “That was purely rhetorical. I’m getting far ahead of myself. Tonight. I’ll find out what’s going on, come tonight.”
Find out, he did. That evening, Isidor received an unsurprising knock on his door from Alster. As the Master Alchemist opened the door for his friend to enter, Alster plopped down on the nearest chair and slumped forward, clasping both hands together. “I wish I had better news to share, but…it’s exactly as you and I feared. Like Ari beforehand, she’s descended into an incredibly deep unconscious state; so deep, one could argue it has more in common with the auspices of death than of life. I tried to penetrate the layers; I have worked with the types of chthonic energies that emulate death, so I assumed I’d be able to coax her to the surface, but she’s fallen too far for my influence to reach alone and…I hate to say it, but this work might be better suited for a necromancer to explore at this current stage.”
“Whatever we decide to do,” he fell back against the chair’s headboard and gazed at the darkened ceiling, “I propose we do it quickly. The longer she spends in limbo, the harder it will be for her to return to the conscious realm…if she returns. I mean, it is possible. After all, Ari returned, so it stands that she will as well, even if we do nothing and wait, but,” he shook his head and sighed, “I don’t like making such a gamble with a human life when we might be able to expedite the process and grant her a better chance. I’m sorry I don’t have cheerier news to impart.” He rolled his shoulders, which, filled with cramps and knots from the strain and stress placed upon them over the last few days, were in desperate need of a massage. “But…it seems like we still have our work cut out for us before we can truly rest.”
“I couldn’t say if Nia ‘caught’ whatever had Ari buried so deeply in his mind; is it possible something like that could be contagious through alchemical transmutation? Given the fact we effectively transformed a curse into something treatable… I am realizing how little I truly know, despite my years of study and practice.” Isidor stared in front of him without really seeing. In part, lingering exhaustion clouded his senses, but that creeping sense of fear and doubt was the only thing on his mind. “The Night Garden will ensure she doesn’t die. But it also won’t ensure that she wakes up… maybe I’m just being paranoid. Of course we shouldn’t expect her to wake up as fast as I did considering what she just put her body through, but… You would think by now there would be something. Some inkling of improvement, or signs that she would be on the mend, but I… I didn’t feel anything. Just a body, a machine, going through the motions of staying alive, but I couldn’t find the operator. The one manning the vessel. The energy around her was… stagnant. But we can’t tell Ari.”
The Master Alchemist refocused his gaze on Alster, to gauge that he and the Rigas mage were on the same page regarding this specific concern. “He is still in recovery; at a superficial glance, it feels and sounds as though he is fighting off pneumonia. I wouldn’t dare introduce any news that would compromise his healing during this crucial time. I am not suggesting we lie to him: I couldn’t lie to save my life. But we must continue to find reasons to give him hope, and the sooner we can discern the details behind Nia’s stagnant coma, the sooner we can decide what we communicate to him, and how.” And if the outlook was as unfavourable as he feared… then they would also need to learn to be evasive without being dishonest, until the Canaveris lord was healthy and stable enough to bear bad news.
They must have shared a sense of urgency in this matter, for Alster agreed to check on Nia’s unconscious state that very night. Isidor felt his shoulders relax, but only slightly. At the very least, they had a gameplan, and could plan from there accordingly. “Thank you, Alster. I’m probably just being excessively paranoid; I’ve felt nothing more than useless these past three days.” He admitted, hazarding the weakest of smiles. “Let me know what you find. Between the two of us… hopefully we have what it takes to deal with whatever prognosis we find, good or bad.”
It was easy and comforting to blame such feelings of unease on paranoia and conditioned stress. Isidor was prone to worry at the best of times, and there was seldom an instance where he couldn’t help but ponder the worst case scenario. Considering how many times he had feared the worst, and circumstances had proven him wrong, a miniscule part of him dared to hope that once again, he need only contribute his sour gut feeling to his penchant towards generalized anxiety. Yet, as luck would have it, in this instance that did not pan out to be the case.
There was no one he was expecting save for Alster, come evening. So as soon as the exhausted Master Alchemist heard that telltale knock at the door (he knew right away it was his friend; Alster’s hand dealt a less-demanding rhythm compared to others), he jumped up from the chair at his desk and ran to pull the latch. As soon as he registered the Rigas mage’s expression, however, he knew it was not good news.
“So… nothing? You couldn’t find anything at all?” Since this was not yet common knowledge, nor did he want it to be, Isidor motioned with his head for Alster to come in, and quietly shut the door behind him. “But she’s alive; arguably more alive than even Ari was when he was rendered unconscious by his curse. There’s no… no illness, no vital failures taking place in her body. From my alchemical knowledge of the body and physiology--which I admit is far inferior to Nia’s--there is nothing medical, alchemical, or otherwise that can explain why she has yet to open her eyes, save for the possibility she just really needs more rest. But if that were the case… you would not be likening her condition to a step toward death. This… this is bad.”
Pushing some discarded books out of the way enough to take a seat on his relatively unused bed, Isidor rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “I promised… I made a promise to Sylvie Canaveris. And to Nadira. I promised them that no one would be lost to this procedure… we can’t let this happen. There has to be a solution.”
True to Alster’s ever informed nature, it just so happened that he wasn’t out of ideas. But that wasn’t to say that what he proposed sat well with Isidor. “...it can’t be like that. Alster, please, tell me we haven’t already arrived at a dead end that requires us to call on my brother again…” To be fair, Vitali had been on good behaviour since Alster had made good on his promise to convince the palace to release its hold on him; at least, Isidor hadn’t heard that the necromancer had been up to any antics, and when Vitali pulled a stunt, he wanted everyone to know. But the necromancer already had his ticket to freedom: what else could they offer him for his assistance that wouldn’t be utterly damning?
“Vitali won’t grant a favour without a price. He has his freedom; hells, he practically has immortality, or as close to it as a lich can get. Even if we were willing to offer him something, there isn’t anything else he could want from us.” Isidor sighed, straightening his spine as he sat up. It was a wonder his bones remained properly aligned with the amount of slouching he did. “But… if even you cannot reach her, and your magic is nearly unparalleled… then I don’t know any other options. And, I don’t know of any other necromancers…”
The Master Alchemist swore under his breath and stood. “...let’s find him. It isn’t as though he needs sleep anymore; shouldn’t be difficult.”
At Alster’s agreement, the two quietly left his chambers and traversed the palace halls for any sign of the nefarious necromancer. When they arrived at his door (the same room to which he had been confined, but he was now free to come and go as he pleased), Isidor sighed in hesitation before finally knocking. The voice that answered him did not come from inside the room.
“Still haven’t broken out of your bizarre, nocturnal habits I see.” Vitali casually walked up behind them, hands plunged into the pockets of a duochromatic waistcoat. Somewhere, between the time he had been released and now, he had already started on a brand new flamboyantly flashy wardrobe. It was clear to tell when Vitali Kristeva wanted to be noticed. “You know, sleep is something I don’t miss. Though by the looks of it, you don’t much care for it either, even considering how exhausted you must be.”
“Did you know we would come looking for you?” Isidor sighed, not at all surprised to find his brother had found them first.
The necromancer lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “All’s not said and done with the star-crossed lovers in the Night Garden, is it? Call it a hunch that I figured I might be called on again.”
“Then should we assume you also have your price in mind?”
“Even if I said no, little brother, you’d insist I ask for something, wouldn’t you?” Vitali removed one hand from his pocket to absently examine his nail beds. “Otherwise you’d worry I’d simply come to collect later on, when you least expect it, and to the detriment of your comfort and convenience.”
“Look, we don’t want much from you. Nia Ardane… remains unresponsive. Alster couldn’t reach her through her mind. We just want to know…” Isidor found it difficult to look the necromancer in the eye. He didn’t want to admit that he feared the worst. “If she… has been lost to us. Or if we simply aren’t able to reach her on the frequencies within our capabilities.”
“Isidor, it’s so much easier if you just come out and say it.” Vitali sighed and bridged the gap between them. “You want to know if she lies in wait for death.”
The Master Alchemist frowned. It was all he could do not to wince. He asked slowly, “Will you help us?”
Vitali smiled. His eyes caught the flicker of witchlight lining the halls. “I did not return from the dead to be a bane on a place I had hoped to be my rightful home. Now that it sees fit to let me be… I don’t see any harm in giving back a little.”
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone that not only had Vitali’s sense of sight returned in his lich body, but that the Night Garden no longer posed a direct threat to him. Perhaps it didn’t recognize him for who he was any longer, but if this was all enough to secure the medium-turned-necromancer’s cooperation, he wouldn’t question it. “Will you come with us now?”
“No time like the present, I suppose.”
While both Alster and Isidor were beyond baffled (and a little bit suspicious) that it had been so easy to secure Vitali’s help a second time so soon, they knew better than to push their luck, and accompanied the necromancer to the Night Garden, all the way back to the sanctuary, where Ari rested peacefully, and Nia had yet to awaken at all. Isidor cautioned his brother to be as quiet and stealthy as possible, but it needn’t be said. Vitali was capable of moving with the stealth and grace of a cat, and his lich body made no difference in that skill--if anything, despite being taller, he appeared more quiet and apt to sneak up on you when you least suspect it.
The Rigas mage and the Master Alchemist remained outside as Vitali slipped soundlessly into the sanctuary. Isidor even went so far as to hold his breath, afraid that even the slightest twitch from the outside would awaken and alarm Ari (and how the hell would they explain the presence of the necromancer in the middle of the night?) But no commotion or upset ever stirred within the sanctuary walls, and approximately fifteen minutes later, the necromancer re-emerged as silently as he had slipped in.
“What did you find?” Isidor only whispered when the trio had ventured far enough away from the sanctuary that they wouldn’t rouse suspicion.
Vitali appeared unperturbed, but then, nothing really ruffled his feathers under any circumstances. “If you are hoping for good news, she is very much neither dead nor dying in any way.”
Iisdor frowned. “I think we’ve already gleaned as much. Tell us something we don’t already know.”
“You’re not understanding: I deal in the dead. In the spirit. I know an empty vessel from an occupied one, or one on the verge of being vacant. Miss Ardane is none of the above.” The necromancer plunged his hands back into his pockets. “She is very much alive, in body and in spirit, however unresponsive. I am not able to reach her. Strange that neither are you, Rigas, and a little concerning, but she’s still there. But I for one couldn’t tell you where there is.”
“So… we are no closer to an answer than before.” The Master alchemist swore under his breath, and turned to Alster in desperation. “Tivia. Do you think she--”
“...is Nia going to be okay?” A small, familiar voice stopped the trio in their tracks, as they turned to find themselves amidst an unplanned family reunion. Teselin Kristeva stood just feet away; as to how long she had been there, or how much she’d heard or seen, was a mystery to everyone.
“She’ll… she’s going to wake up, isn’t she?” The youngest Kristeva spoke again, amongst the trio’s stunned silence. “She has to be alright…!”
“Teselin… we will figure this out. Okay?” Another promise he wasn’t sure he could keep, but he had to believe not all was lost. More importantly, Teselin had to believe that. “We don’t have answers or a solution yet. But we will. Vitali has already confirmed that Nia is not gone; we just… we don’t know where to find her. Her consciousness, I mean. What are you doing up at this hour?”
The young summoner stepped from the shadows to join the trio of men who looked more lost than they let on; well, aside from Vitali. Teselin hadn’t seen her eldest brother’s face since the night of the masquerade, and truth be told, she still wasn’t sure how she felt about him for what he had caused. For how he had brought out the worst, most dangerous part of her… but was he really to blame for how she had reacted? Or had that potential been inside her all along, ready to go off at the first little inconvenience? “I couldn’t sleep.” She left her answer to Isidor’s question at that before turning to Vitali. He appeared neither guilty nor innocent, just a neutral party who had been asked for his opinion on an important matter. “You care the least about anyone’s feelings. So don’t treat me any differently.”
Daring to bridge the gap between them, she took the necromancer’s cuffed wrist in her hand and met his eyes. “What has happened to Nia? If her body is recovering well, then where is her mind? Why won’t she wake up? What… what are the chances she’ll return to us? I need to know, not only for Ari’s sake, but… also Nico’s.”
“I appreciate the credit; while I am a far more capable liar than our mother’s middle child, it is not something I turn to often.” Vitali didn’t pull his arm from his sister’s hold; perhaps he was aware how his response would affect how and when she decided to forgive him. “I am only useful when it comes to the dead. Nia Ardane isn’t dead; her spirit isn’t at large. None of us can say where she is, and because of this, we cannot reach her, but… she is not lost. Not yet. If there was more I could tell you, know that I would.”
Teselin took in his words and nodded slowly as she released his wrist. “Not lost. We just haven’t found a way to reach her… thank you. And, Vitali? I’m… sorry.” Her expression softened before she turned away. “...I’m glad you came back.”
This was the first time that Teselin had spoken to anyone but Hadwin for several days. Feeling helpless, she had kept herself well out of the situation, feeling there was nothing she could do, and not wanting to interfere with those who could help. But what little she had learned from Alster, Vitali, and Isidor had gotten her thinking… and gave her the courage to go and seek out someone who no longer wanted to see her.
The next day, she knocked on the door of the room where Nico was staying at the palace. He and Sylvie hadn’t left for the D’Marian settlement, and refused to until their uncle was well enough to be on his feet again and travel with them. After a moment, Ari’s nephew answered the door. She didn’t know how long he would stand and listen, so she wasted no time. “Nico. I… I just wanted to see how you were doing.” The young summoner tried to smile, but it felt too nervous and forced. “Since your uncle woke up, I mean. His curse is… gone. The night Garden is taking care of helping him recover. Fantastic news, isn’t it? I just… I wanted to see that you were feeling better than before…”
Nothing.
Alster despised that word. At least, in a specific context. When he had nothing to give, nothing to do, nothing to reveal or solve or conclude. Presenting Isidor with nothing, despite his formidable knowledge and power, left his stomach roiling in turns of malaise. Much as he wanted to believe otherwise, it felt indicative of his own failings and shortcomings as a mage, to visit Isidor’s chambers empty-handed. Every time he presented a less than satisfying conclusion to a problem—associating with that dreaded word, nothing—Alster could almost hear the disappointment dropping into the hearts of his peers. Unfortunately, his inconclusive statements were happening with more frequency than he would have liked.
Although he’d never voice such a claim aloud, it was no conceit to call him a minor god or Demi-god among men (by association, of course; nothing about his trajectory felt earned). Even so, minor godhood did not by default bless him with omniscience. In fact, the more he encountered mysterious, difficult-to-solve cases, the more he became overwhelmed with the reality that he knew nothing. And perhaps, having so many daily reminders awakened him to the fact that ‘godhood’ and ‘deity’ were fancy identifiers akin to ‘prodigy,’ which, in context, meant so little in the face of every life experience he surmounted so far. They were nonsense words, nonsense labels, and meant…nothing.
The sooner he realized his shortcomings, the sooner he could redefine failure as an opportunity to evolve, and not as a fundamental setback forever stunting him from making any further progress. But tonight was not that night, and as he squirmed under his inadequacy, he found himself backpedaling his assessment.
“Nothing…so far,” he amended, waving one hand over his half-lidded eyes. “I can’t say I’m operating at my best today, but with a fresher look after getting some adequate rest, I might gain some more clarity on the issue. But,” he sighed, allowing logic to forge ahead of his pride, “there’s no telling what will occur if we wait until a more appropriate time to act, so as much as I hate involving Vitali again, if he can pinpoint what’s wrong, or better yet, restore Nia’s submerged mind to the forefront, then I’m willing to take the blow to my conscience. And technically, the terms of our last deal haven’t been met, since he was supposed to vouchsafe Nia’s well-being and…that condition is still in nebulous territory. I’ll fight semantics with him if need be. It might all come to nothing.” That word again. He tried not to flinch as it spit out of him. “Her mind is the one that’s submerged, after all, and while it isn’t necessarily in the realm of necromancy, perhaps Vitali might use his mediumship abilities to communicate with her spirit and connect to her mind through that avenue. Already, I failed to reach her through dreams. And while I fear her consciousness has somehow been severed from the rest of her functional whole…it’s worth a try.”
Although Vitali wasn’t found in his chambers that evening, one glance over their shoulders and there the lich loomed, already looking at home in his newfound emancipation and dressed to embody the part. How he’d obtained a new tailored coat to fit his towering measurements in such a short timeframe remained, as with most everything involving the secretive necromancer, a mystery.
For the most part, Alster let Isidor do all the talking, only opting to step in if he needed to gently remind the necromancer of their ongoing deal. Imagine his surprise when Vitali not only offered his full cooperation, but asked for absolutely nothing else in return. He would have followed suit with Isidor and shared in his suspicions, but strangely, Alster believed him. Perhaps for the same reasons he defended the lich to Lilica at their impromptu meeting following the masquerade incident. From the moment Vitali accompanied him, Lilica, and Tivia on the journey to locate the slumbering kingdom of Galeyn, and subsequent conversations retreading his intentions, it appeared that Vitali really did want to start a new leaf. Why else would he risk so much by falsely defecting to Locque for a kingdom and land that literally had spurned him? Much as others might accuse him of suffering from Teselin’s idealism, Alster concluded that they could trust Vitali. Somewhat. At face value. Cautiously.
They arrived in front of the sanctuary, and under fortunate circumstances. Ari was sound asleep, no healers were on site, and Nadira, who remained a fixture at her son’s side, either had gone elsewhere for the moment or retired for the night. They waited outside as Vitali crept in on nimble, noiseless feet and reported back on his findings after a quarter of an hour had passed.
“Of course it wouldn’t be so simple,” Alster let forth a weary sigh as they rounded away from the sanctuary en route to the palace. “Nothing ever is. It’s always one medical or metaphysical anomaly after another. So now we’re back to the beginning.” Before he could answer Isidor’s suggestion to request Tivia’s aid, another figure joined their late-night party of three. At first, Alster stiffened with alarm, uncertain how Teselin would register Vitali’s presence, but he quickly relaxed when a conversation between them proceeded as normal, with no implied emotional depth complicating the exchange. He had too little energy or patience to entertain any further drama.
Knowing better than to withhold information from the youngest Kristeva sibling, who had a knack for discovering the truth on her own, and often at the worst possible moments, both brothers decided to grant her what she desired upfront; an honest response. Alster anticipated the young summoner to fervently declare her aid by offering up her uncanny, but untamed magic, and nodded his relief when she didn’t. …At the moment, at least.
“It’s an affliction of the mind, but a mind far, far buried so as to remain unresponsive,” Alster offered, although he didn’t have much else to contribute. Nothing more illuminating to impart for Nia’s bizarre case. “It’s almost like a death, or a near death, of her cognitive abilities. The segments of her brain responsible for consciousness are completely inactive. I tried stimulating those areas with a gentle electric current, but…” he refused to finish the sentence, but the word lingered in the air like a curse. Nothing. “Ari’s brain behaved similarly, before and during the procedure, but he managed to awaken with no apparent ramifications or damage. So,” he elected for a hopeful smile, “it’s very possible Nia will go the same way and swim to the surface independent of our meddling. I’d give it a few more days. Three or four, and she’ll shake free of her coma. This is Nia we’re discussing, so I have faith in her sheer grit and willpower.”
Whether his additional commentary convinced her or not, Teselin nodded her understanding and took her leave without any fuss. No insisting that she be of use despite her blatant lack of control and mastery over her magical output. Instead, she had quietly left, and Alster didn’t know if he should feel more concerned by the unproblematic state of her departure.
“Congratulations,” Alster said dryly as he turned to Vitali. You’re in your incredibly forgiving sister’s good graces again. I’d suggest you try and keep them, this time.” But he didn’t care to linger on the necromancer’s complicated familial relationships and steered the subject back towards Isidor’s prior suggestion. “I could ask for Tivia’s opinion, except,” he massaged the back of his neck, attempting to knead out some of the kinks and knots, “since her return, she’s been incredibly elusive and only seems to materialize when she wants to be found. No one knows if she even resides here at the palace. According to Lilica, Tivia never put in a formal request to reclaim her residency. I could try to track her myself, but evidently the stars are still shrouding her existence from me such that our Rigas blood connection can’t keep us in touch anymore. It’s almost as if she lives out of bounds in this plane of existence. With her, it’s a one-way communication.” Failing to soothe his cricking neck, Alster dropped his hand, trading his focus for trying to placate Isidor in case the news upset him. “But perhaps if you were the one to ask, Isidor, she might make an appearance.”
“Yes, if you believe that would help, please do.”
Forgetting the fact that they were conversing aloud in a public space where any eavesdropper could happen upon them, Alster cursed inwardly as Nadira Canaveris swept in and joined the discussion, a bundle of clean-pressed linens in her hands. He should have known that she wouldn’t linger far from her son until he was in the throes of recovery. “Ah, Lady Canaveris, good evening. Did you happen to—“
“Yes,” she said, so unapologetic and concise, she didn’t feel the need to elaborate. “I saw Miss Tivia a few days ago,” she continued, airily, as though she were referencing the weather. “Rather, she approached me to say my son would live and that I should concentrate my focus elsewhere. Not a moment later, Miss Nia fell unconscious and healers rushed in to stabilize her. I was skeptical before, but she certainly seems to have a gift for foresight. Now, while I am abundantly grateful for your contributions Lord Rigas, Master Isidor…even you, Mister Kristeva,” she wrinkled her brow at Vitali, as if wondering what to make of him, “my formal shower of accolades will have to wait until a later date, I’m afraid. Anyway…consider me an accomplice,” she announced, not bothering to ask permission for her involvement. “You needn’t worry; I will not inform Ari. I believe we can all agree that his health takes paramount. Learning of Nia’s condition will only arrest his healing progress.” One hand fiddled with the pendant around her throat; the one she still hadn’t yet discarded, just in case. Her expression turned somber as she directed her gaze to the ground. “She must awaken. And not for Ari’s sake alone. I cannot in good conscience allow this woman to suffer such an insidious fate for everything she has done for me and my family. It simply will not do. If no one else can solve this conundrum,” she cast a fiery look at the three men present, “then rest assured I will.”
Shortly after his arrival at the palace, Nico was offered more appropriate accommodations by the staff acting at the queen’s behest and he gladly took them, both to avail Hadwin of his provisionary homelessness, and to shake the wolf-man off his back before becoming too beholden to his charitable acts. Considering the faoladh’s penchant for unpredictable behavior, Nico wasn’t keen on remaining in his borrowed chambers for when Hadwin inevitably discovered the conversation that transpired between his darling ward and the heartless bastard who crushed her feelings to a pulp. While knowing little about Hadwin’s exploits, it didn’t take a genius to intuit that someone of his unhinged caliber would have exactly no qualms exacting violent revenge on the transgressor, and Nico wanted to be far from the wolf’s intense golden gaze before exploring such an outcome.
The morning after his arrival, he was transferred to a smaller suite on the opposite end of the palace across from where they housed his sister. An oversight on their part; he wanted nothing to do with Sylvie for the foreseeable future.
To help allay his anxieties over his uncle’s procedure, the staff offered him a personal attendant who saw to his every need; delivered him meals, books from the library, paints and canvas, and regular updates on Ari’s status. During this tepid time period, Nico sequestered inside his rooms and flounced through the simplest of tasks. Understanding a passage in a book was tantamount to learning advanced calculus and painting a brush stroke, like he was fighting a strong underwater current. Even when he received the fortunate news that Ari’s curse had been eradicated and Ari would reawaken, Nico still refused to leave his chambers—although, at the very least, his breathing seemed far less encumbered than before. All other facets of his life, however, remained murky and almost ephemeral, as if they’d vanish into smoke whenever he reached out to touch them.
The morning after Ari awakened, Nico received a knock on his door. Assuming it was his attendant, he bade them enter, but when it was Teselin who appeared through the doorway, he hesitated, weighing his options, before finally meeting her at the door. Having not heard from her in nearly a week, he thought he’d alienated her for good. The fact that he was wrong came as a comfort to him, and he couldn’t help but greet her with a smile, though it quickly faded when he had to remind himself not to act so friendly and familiar in her presence. Overcorrecting, he swept into a deep bow. “Miss Teselin. What an honor to see you again,” he said in his best Ari impression. “Yes, I have heard the needs and it is nothing short of wonderful. You were correct. I suppose I had nothing to worry about. I am doing well,” his tone clipped, betraying his words. “Thank you for seeing to my well-being. I was…about to leave to visit my uncle, in fact,” he lied, straightening his collar so it didn’t sit crooked on his neck and look like he slept on it. Which he did. “Thank you again for your kind words, Miss Teselin, but I must go lest I be late. Good day.”
Closing the door to his chambers behind him, he made an undignified bound away from Teselin and straight down the hallway, to his freedom, maintaining his grueling pace far after he lost sight of her.
In the end, he did end up going to the sanctuary. Initially, to keep up appearances in case Teselin decided to pursue, but the closer he reached the hallowed hut of the Night Garden, the more he realized; this was what he wanted. To see his uncle alive, in the midst of a full recovery.
What he saw instead was far less encouraging.
The first thing he noticed was Ari, crumpled over himself and hacking through his hands with such force, it dislodged the bed from its positioning against the wall. Beside Nico, a Gardener rushed in and affixed a strange apparatus on his face, which he assured the Canaveris lord would aid in his breathing. The second thing he noticed was Nia in the adjacent bed, as limp and flat and lifeless as a doll stuffed full of straw.
Slowly, Nico backed out of the room and through the door to outside. And, before anyone realized his company at all, he palmed the door gently shut and ran off; he didn’t know where. Anywhere but the sanctuary. Anywhere but the palace.
“Me?” Isidor stumbled at Alster’s proposal that he be the one to ask Tivia for help. Every time the star seer revealed herself to him, however briefly, the Master Alchemist experienced a rollercoaster of emotions time and again that he was never sure he would come to understand. Relief that she was alright; sadness for the moments with her that he would never get back or relive. Overall uncertainty as to whether or not he wanted to continue to see her time and again, or if it would simply be easier to cauterize the wound before it grew infected from all of his quiet pining, turn away, and move on without looking back. Even if he were to ask Tivia for assistance completely unrelated to him… Even if she agreed (and he was not certain she would), he wasn’t convinced it would be the best move for either of them. Especially since Tivia seemed to be more motivated to forget about and move on from him than he was her.
“She… you really think that Tivia would show up for me on a whim?” He asked, rather incredulous. “If that were the case, don’t you think she would’ve come back sooner?” How many times had he called for her, searched for her relentlessly, after she had disappeared…?
Although, someone aside from Alster seemed to condone this idea.
No matter their efforts to remain stealthy and involve as few people as possible, of course Alster and Isidor’s efforts would be in vain. And, to Vitali’s credit, it was not for lack of the necromancer’s efforts to keep his involvement on the downlow, so he couldn’t put the blame on the person who seemingly deserved it the most. However controversial his brother’s resurrection and return to this kingdom had been, he had been nothing but cooperative and--as much as he hated to admit it--helpful. So there was no one to blame for Nadira Canaveris’s sudden interjection into their clandestine conversation than pure, dumb (bad) luck. That, and both he and Alkster had been too exhausted to consider scanning the area for eavesdroppers, or shielding their back-and-forth with magic.
Even if he were a skilled liar, there was no convincing the clever Canaveris matriarch that she did not hear them correctly, and he for one would not risk insulting her intelligence. He had convinced her to have faith in him; he owed her the truth, and denied nothing of what she surmised. Instead, he attempted to offer some perspective. “If you did indeed overhear us talking, Lady Canaveris, then I’m sure you also understood that we are not writing off Nia’s condition as something that will not resolve itself. Rather, we are hoping to have contingency plans in place in the rare event that she does not awaken on her own. Please do not perceive this as all being lost…”
“Lady Canaveris. If I may…?” Vitali, who had remained mercifully silent during this delicate exchange, spoke up and stepped forward. He put forward his hand, palm up, as if expecting her to give him something. Isidor bit the inside of his cheeks, wondering if Nadira would find it untoward to tell the necromancer to back down with whatever the hell he thought he was doing, but before he could find the words, the Canaveris matriarch seemed to understand the implications, and--after a brief hesitation--unclasped the pendant around her neck. To Isidor’s astonishment, she placed it in Vitali’s waiting palm, without asking any questions.
Vitali curled his fingers around the heavy pendant, twisting his mouth to the side thoughtfully as he assumedly measured its magical properties. “Powerful magic you’ve imbued in this gem.” The necromancer commented as he ran his thumb over the smooth stone. “Not many use blood magic with such confidence--or accuracy, particularly if it is not your calling. I cannot say I’ve met many earth mages who have dared to attempt it, let alone succeeded at what they had intended to do all along. Your skills are worthy of acknowledgement.” Satisfied with whatever it was he meant to assess, he returned the pendant to Nadira and took a humble step back.
“However,” He went on (and they should have expected as much; when did Vitali ever end a statement with a compliment to someone that wasn’t meant to be taken ironically?). “Be that as it may, the chance for your powerful talisman to shine has come and passed.”
Isidor furrowed his eyebrows, impatiently waiting for his brother to continue. “I know you’re waiting for someone to ask you to elaborate; so get on with it.”
“My apologies. I thought the implication was clear, considering Lord Canaveris is alive and well, and whose life during recovery is protected by the Night Garden itself. Additionally, Ardane--the topic of this conversation--is not dead. Not even close to it, in fact, nor at risk of it, given where she rests. Although I’d be willing to bet that after my brief assessment of her, even if she were relocated elsewhere, her body would continue to function, provided she continues to receive medical intervention. Your talisman, Lady Canaveris,” he shifted to address Ari’s mother again, “is a powerful tool in the event of death. Which makes it, unfortunately, as useless as me in this situation, because Nia Ardane is not dead, nor is she dying. I cannot say for certain, as it is not my area of expertise, but I think Alster would agree that the best word to describe her is ‘lost’. Somewhere on some plane where none of us are able to reach.”
“...but Tivia could.” The youngest Kristeva brother sighed. He didn’t know anyone else who could traverse dimensions with as much ease as the star seer. While it was not beyond Alster’s capabilities, the Rigas mage was still recovering from the ordeal of saving Ari’s life days ago. And if his memory served him, Alster would have to touch base with the inhuman part of his existence, which had caused him to lose himself multiple times before. Even if it was an option… it wasn’t worth the risk. Elespeth would surely agree.
“You’ve traveled with her.” Isidor turned back to Vitali. “You arrived in Galeyn with her the night of the masquerade. Clearly she isn’t as inclined to hide from you as she is the rest of us. If anyone here has a chance of securing her help, it’s you.”
But Isidor didn’t appear to be convincing anyone. His older brother spared what could only be described as a pitying smile as he slowly shook his head. “Who did she dance with, Isidor? At the Masquerade?” It wasn’t with a snide sense of knowing that Vitali asked the rhetorical question; his tone suggested that perhaps his brother really had forgotten such a pivotal moment. “It was not me. As I recall, I shared but a single dance with a single individual: your charming granddaughter, Lady Canaveris. To my misfortune, however, it appeared she preferred the company of yet another controversial figure in Galeyn.”
“She didn’t tell me that it was her. Had I not insisted, she mightn’t have revealed her identity to me at all! Stop… stop insisting on the existence of something impossible!” The Master Alchemist raised his voice just to a decibel where he feared he might awaken the sleeping Aristide Canaveris in the sanctuary. Realizing this faux-pas, and that he had nearly lost himself in the presence of his friend, a friend’s mother, and his snide older brother, Isidor’s face heated, and he turned away from the trio. “...excuse me,” was all he said, before taking his leave of the premises entirely.
‘Please do not fret, Lady Canaveris. And accept my apology on my brother’s behalf.” Vitali bent into a respectful half-bow. At least he seemed to realized the importance of keeping up appearances with one of the most influential families in the place he wanted to call his home. “Rest assured that this predicament will not remain unresolved. Isidor is no one if not loyal to the promises he makes to others: and regardless of whether or not we end up involving the star seer, Tivia Rigas, I am sure he and Lord Rigas here will see to it that Nia Ardane opens her eyes again.”
Had she been too hopeful that, now that Ari was out of hot water, Nico would change his mind about wanting to associate with her? Or had she merely pried too soon? Teselin wasn’t an idiot, and she knew that Ari’s nephew had no such appointment at that given moment: he simply sought a reason to leave her alone without seeming untoward. She knew better than to question him on it, and let it happen, but not without a deep sense of defeat. Whatever reason Nico remained so upset… it was not something that she could help him with. Because it went against his moral framework, contradicting his uncle’s wishes, to associate with her.
The young summon returned to her own room shortly after, visibly dejected, as she cradled her still injured arm. As an appendage it was still fairly useless, with limited strength and mobility along with the ability to detect any sensation whatsoever, but not nearly as useless as she felt as a whole. Hadwin, a frequent visitor to her room (especially since she had rendered her right arm deadweight), perked up upon her arrival. Her face must have given her general mood away. “I just went to see Nico… in case he needed company. To see if he was alright…”
There was no point in explaining what had happened between them since her expression said enough. But she tried to brush aside her disappointment, for his sake. “I messed up a while ago, Hadwin. I had the potential to find a friend in Sylvie and in Nico… and I messed up. I put everyone in danger during the masquerade, and if not for Tivia…” She trailed off, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. “I don’t blame Nico. I’m not the first thing on his mind: his uncle is. And… Nia…” Her shoulders drooped a bit at the thought of the Master Alchemist who had, in every sense of the word, saved her life when she had made the foolish attempt to stifle her magic and live like an ordinary person for a day. Her mere existence just caused disaster after disaster, bother after bother, and Nia… well, she…
“She’s still not awake… do you think she will wake up?” Teselin looked over her shoulder at the faoladh, her dark eyes full of hope and fear. “She saved my life, Hadwin. Nia didn’t have to act at all: I wasn’t anyone to her, and she saved me. And then she saved Ari, and now she’s…” Lost? A shell? If Nico was despondent about her, on top of his uncle’s condition, then she couldn’t blame him, but instead wondered how much of the blame she should absorb.
“...I’ve done nothing to help anyone, Hadwin. I’m only… a liability. A threat waiting to happen. Nico shouldn’t associate with me. I don’t have any right to feel sore about it when there is a possibility that Nia might not wake up… I overheard Alster and Isidor the other night. No one knows what the future looks like for her right now…”
Teselin allowed herself to lie back onto the cushion of her bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I just wish… there was something I could do to help. But my magic only destroys. It doesn’t heal, like Alster’s. It doesn’t restore, like Tivia’s. It’s pure destruction… and I am a disaster waiting to happen.”
The heaviness of her own emotions weighed on the young summoner, and in the comforting company of her ever loyal friend, she gradually drifted to sleep far earlier in the day than she had intended. By the time she awoke, it was nightfall--beyond night, in fact, but well after dusk and the hours that followed. Teselin sat up to the sound of silence, of Hadwin--a wolf, once again--fast asleep at the foot of her bed. The palace had retired for the evening, but now, she was wide awake, and with nowhere to go and nothing to do.
So, she turned to what she had been turning to these past several nights that she battled insomnia, and made for the Night Garden. If a Gardener was still awake, perhaps they could recommend something to clear her mind, or at the very least, help her sleep.
But it wasn’t a Gardener she encountered on her way into the Night Garden. Just like the night before, as if as per serendipity, she found Alster and Isidor gathered yards away from the sanctuary--but this time, they were joined by Lady Canaveris, and Vitali. She knew precisely what they were discussing before she sought to listen in, from the cover of shadows and brush. The words that stood out the most were Vitali’s, and there was no wonder as to whom he was referring. …best word to describe her is ‘lost’. Somewhere on some plane where none of us are able to reach.
Nia was… lost. Was that worse than being dead? Wandering somewhere that no one could find her, unable to make contact, unable to make her way home because no one could reach her to guide her there?
Or… could someone be her guide?
Something from what felt like so long ago suddenly crossed Teselin’s mind. Something from an exchange between her and Locque--the tyrannical witch, not the benevolent Gardener. During a moment when Teselin had been trying to reach her, appeal to the sense of humanity she knew must have still existed deep down. She’s hadn’t succeeded, but something the witch said had stuck with her. Why so helpless, when you could be anything, Teselin? Anything, and anywhere, at any time, at your very whim. Don’t you realize that no one, and nothing, confines you to anything? The witch had frowned, confusion creasing her brows. You really have no idea as to the depth of your power. And I don’t suppose that you would be open to my tutelage.
No: at the time, she had not been open to learning from Locque under those circumstances. But now… Now, that the witch had been whittled away until nothing but the Gardener remained, then maybe, maybe…
Anything. Anywhere. At any time… Did that include the prison in which Nia’s very consciousness was trapped? She had to find out.
Just as silently as she came upon the party of 4, the young summoner slipped away, unnoticed, in search of the lost and lonely ghost of a Gardener, who was perhaps the only person who could help her help Nia.
Nico, Sylvie, Ari… if this is the only thing I am ever able to do for you, then that alone will be worth the try.
Nadira knew how to be the paragon of neutrality around even the most polarizing figures. She also knew when said polarizing figure was resorting to base flattery to win her favor. Funny, then, how she had elected to adopt Vitali’s exact strategy. Ideologically, she opposed the necromancer and everything he stood for. Moreso, she could not forgive his behavior at the masquerade ball, including the fact that he had danced with her impressionable granddaughter, full in knowing with whom he had taken to the floor—and that was only the lightest offense! If not for Tivia Rigas and her miraculous restitching of every shard of glass dislodged from the summoner’s emotional outburst, then Nadira would likely hold an uncompromising view of the lich-man and never welcome any counsel he presented, well-intentioned or not. Alas, it was far better to maintain an alliance with the less unsavory Kristeva brother, however threadbare and provisional. Thus, when he asked to examine the blood-stained pendant she carried, she offered it, albeit with great restraint and reservation.
She expertly maintained her expression when he delivered the unfortunate news, while inside, she was crestfallen. “I welcome your assessment, Mister Kristeva, especially as it paints me in such an appealing and competent light,” she mused as she retrieved the pendant from Vitali’s hand and re-affixed it around her throat. “However, I am well-versed in the understanding that my pendant is a last resort strategy in the event of unprecedented death. However, I am glad for the second opinion. I would argue that you’ve not kept the company of many earth mages over your presumably lengthy life, as blood magic has been practiced among our ranks since antiquity. No longer a popular branch, I will admit, and Canaverises like to think themselves above such a so-called ‘dark art,’ but if used for pure-hearted purposes, then I see no problem in its usage.”
She didn’t like the look Alster Rigas gave her. Or Vitali. He shared a confused glance with Isidor and raised an eyebrow when he didn’t appear surprised by the subject of discussion. “Everyone knew about this pendant but me?”
“I assure you, Lord Rigas, not for lack of trying,” she said, in almost an indignant huff. “But I suppose secrets hold no meaning with the return of two figures who have a disturbing knack for prescience,” she gave Vitali, the only accounted for half of the duo, an arch look. “I may as well have shouted my intentions to the whole of Galeyn, for all the good it has done me.”
Rebroaching the case of Tivia Rigas and her viability as an option for Nia’s awakening intrigued her as much as it irritated Isidor, for some curious reason. She was about to comment on what had him so flustered, but Vitali couldn’t help but loudly remind everyone present, and quite possibly everyone beyond their gathering circle, about poor Sylvie and her unfortunate choices made during the masquerade.
“I thank you not to repeat this information to anyone with working ears to listen,” she hissed in a warning whisper, her civil, proprietary attitude towards the necromancer gradually waning. “It is improper to go about sullying a young maiden’s virtue in public. You forget yourself, Mister Kristeva. Say nothing more of this.”
Fortunately, Isidor’s jarring, hypersensitive defense of Tivia Rigas prompted the three to drop the focus on Sylvie and look to him with concern (at least she and Alster expressed concern; she could not say the same of Vitali, whose lips seemed eternally locked in an expression of snug amusement). Before they could say a word in edgewise, the mortified Master Alchemist excused himself and made his awakened leave of them.
“So.” Ever the lover of gossip, and desperate for some non-nebulous, refreshingly grounded conversation that did not involve impossibilities or unsolvable, incongruous cases, she jumped at the rare opportunity to inquire about a normal phenomenon, for a change. “How long ago would you say Isidor and Miss Tivia were courting each other?”
Hadwin didn’t live in Teselin’s chambers, but damn near close to it; especially nowadays, when her bum arm complicated her ability to perform simple tasks. If it frustrated her at all, she was too nice to complain about something she considered so incidental compared to a more fatal alternative. Even when she returned to the chambers after popping in on Nico for a visit, she didn’t rail on him for his dismissive treatment and cold shoulder. Instead, she focused on her own failings, her own worthlessness, and that about near broke his heart. The scamp was too pure for her own good. Her self-esteem, on the other hand, was an absolutely pathetic thing, a shriveled-up husk where nothing could grow. And he could do Jack shit about her circumstances but listen. Always an ear, a receptacle, but like her, his opinion on himself bore some glaring similarities to Teselin. The only difference was he had long mastered the art of oozing confidence when he felt nothing at all. And lately…he had nothing.
“So the little shit’s still giving you the silent treatment, huh?” He curled one hand into a fist and grinned wickedly. “I think he needs a wake-up call, don’t ya think? A little what-for wouldn’t hurt anyone. Relax,” he uncurled his fingers and flopped them into a dismissive hand wave when Teselin’s mouth folded in protest. “I’m trying to clean up my shit reputation with the Canaverises. There’s no advantage to scaring the kid straight.” He leaned back his elbows on the bed where he sat and rested them on the cushions, listening to the summoner’s woes with a receptive ear.
“I mean, I’d argue it’s a little unfair to scorn your existence that much, Tes. It’s not a glamorous one, sure, but you’re seriously blaming yourself for taking up space and breathing in air like the rest of us just cuz something happens that’s beyond your control. Deep down, everyone knows that about you. It’s just all this damn politicking that’s making the situation infuriatingly complex. It’s not you, kid; it’s the folks out there who’re trying to police your magic.”
Nia…do you think she’ll wake up?
“Honestly? I don’t know,” he admitted, angling his head to the ceiling. “I haven’t been to see her myself. I just heard the rumors. But if you think for a moment that Nia didn’t have to act at all…then you don’t know her too well. Besides, even if she didn’t wanna help, which is as unlikely as Fancypants wearing a potato sack for clothes, you can fucking bet I would’ve forced her to help under threat of death. Which, let’s be clear, didn’t happen, cuz Nia’s got a soft spot for you, like most everyone in this goddamned kingdom. You don’t realize how many folks out there wanna see you happy and well.” He stared pensively at the ceiling, ignoring the incriminating shadowy patch in the corner that always cried his name, cursed it, and named him as a growth worse than black mold. Me, especially. I’d kill for that, Tes.
“I oughta kick you in the arse for saying you’ve done nothing to help,” he whipped his head at her, which elicited a sickly crack from his neck. His mouth turned downwards into a grimace that, were her in wolf form, would translate into a growl. “Where do you think I’d be, huh? Dead, and several times over, for that matter! Fuck, give yourself a shred of credit here. You were instrumental in defeating Locque, for starters. You saved Stella D’Mare from Mollengard—these feats aren’t nothing. You’ve got the power to do anything; you know that, right? Look at me.” Rising from the bed, he forcefully grabbed her shoulders and pierced her eyes with his intense gaze. He recalled something Locque’s ghostly apparition said to him with regard to Teselin, and repeated some iteration of it. “Destruction is the easiest manifestation of energy. It takes seconds to fuck something up but a whole lot of determination, concentration, and time to build something, create something, out of nothing. Al once said you had limitless potential, right? That means limitless potential for everything. Not just destruction. It just takes some doing, like with any discipline worth honing, yeah?”
He didn’t think she heard him, so far gone was her hope for a normal life as a normal person, unafraid of just existing—as was the right of any living thing. We were all made to exist. …Even me, I guess.
Later that day, Hadwin set off on his own to find Nico. True to his word, he wasn’t going to start a round of fisticuffs with the kid, but it didn’t mean he’d spare the Canaveris brat from a verbal dressing down.
After some sniffing around, he found the little turd deep in the Night Garden, curled up to his knees against a tree trunk. With his head between his legs and the smell of evaporated salt in the air, it was safe for Hadwin to assume the boy had cried himself to sleep. Well shit, he thought as he pushed closer to Nico’s impromptu hideaway. Now I’ve lost all desire to chew the bastard out.
“Hey,” he reached out and nudged the sleeping boy on the shoulder. The touch, a tiny tap by all accounts, startled Nico so badly, his head shot up and rammed against the hard, ribbed bark of the tree.
“Geez, it’s just me. Don’t give yourself a concussion on my account now,” Hadwin tsked as he watched Nico flinch and rub the sore spot on his head.
“What…what do you want from me, Mister Kavanagh? Revenge?” Still clutching his head, Nico flattened his legs to the ground and shifted to a more dignified position by the tree. “Here I am, alone and vulnerable. What will you do?”
“I don’t go after prey that refuse to put up a fight. That ain’t fun for me.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he jaunted forward and sank one shoulder against the same tree, looking down on his would-be quarry. “By your account, you’re easy pickings. But,” he sighed, “I ain’t keen on watching as you undo yourself. It’s bad enough I have to watch Tes beat herself up all the damn time. You think I wanna entertain her echo? You’re obviously down in the dumps about her, but kid,” he pointed in the direction of the sanctuary, “just talk to your uncle about it. He’s alive and able to carry a conversation, I hear. Unless,” his uncanny eyes scanned Nico’s, and he frowned, “…so you went, and didn’t like what you saw. That’s tough. You feel like no one’s got your back, and the only person who does, you don’t feel comfortable associating with while your uncle’s on the mend. Then you’ve got Nia’s uncertain fate, and how can you reconcile your uncle’s survival if she never wakes up? Meanwhile, you’re trying to hold yourself together and doing a piss-poor job of it. Do I have that right?” He took Nico’s uncomfortable silence as a yes. “But what do you have to gain from moping around in the forest? Sure, it’s good to let it all out once in a while, but it doesn’t look like it’s helping you feel any better. In fact, I wager you’re feeling worse. So here’s my proposition, and you’re free to reject it.” He pushed off from the tree and crouched so that he was level with the confused and overwhelmed boy. “Go see your uncle and share your concerns. If you do that, I’ll go with you. A bit easier to have courage when you’re not going it alone, right? And if you’re worried someone will see me with you,” he pulled out Nia’s concealment cloak from the satchel at his hip, an item he and Teselin never had a chance to return to its owner, “I know how to go incognito.”
“So what do you say?” He extended a hand for Nico to take. “Wanna shake on it?”
And to Hadwin’s unending surprise, the teenaged Canaveris actually reached for it.
If anyone asked why Nico decided to trust a notorious scoundrel, the very same who smooched his sister the night of the masquerade, who murdered his own sister and was renowned for his episodes of mental instability, he would have no rational response to offer. But perhaps trusting Hadwin Kavanagh was a testament to how far he’d fallen in such a short period of time. Besides, if the deranged wolf-man was good for Teselin, then he was good enough for Nico, and in the short time he’d known him, had shown to be a fairly reliable partner in crime.
Later that day, when the sun began its descent towards the western horizon, Nico, accompanied by Hadwin, who stalked around the nearby treeline, draped in Nia’s concealment cloak, returned to the sanctuary. As luck and timing would have it, only Ari, and the unconscious Ardane alchemist, lingered inside. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—his uncle was awake, and scrawling a bunch of indecipherable writing upon a sheet of parchment with a weak, uncoordinated hand. Leave it to Ari, who was recovering from a brush with death, to be diligently working on his rest bed. Nico hovered by the open doorway, looking with uncertainty over his shoulder. Hadwin, who had emerged from under his cloak, appeared on the shadow-laden edge of the hut and offered Nico a nod and a thumb’s up. Taking a courageous breath, he stepped inside, knocking on the side of the open door to alert his uncle’s attention.
“Uncle Ari,” Nico said, his tongue leaden, sticky, hard to maneuver. Ari lifted his head from his writing, his face thankfully availed of the apparatus Gardeners bade him wear from earlier—although it was still sitting at his bedside table, awaiting usage in the event of emergency. In view of his newest visitor, Ari smiled a wan, feverish smile at Nico.
“Nico.” Setting aside his paperwork, he turned to face his eldest nephew, his voice as weak as crumpled paper. “I must look a fright to you. I had hoped I would be a more presentable sight, but I suppose I will need ample bedrest before such a dream becomes a reality. Be that as it may,” his smile widened, in genuine gratitude. “I am glad you are here.”
“I…I—“ but he failed to finish what he wanted to say before a flood of tears erupted from his face, overwhelming his ability to speak. He stumbled to Ari’s bed and wept openly, in shame but…in relief. Not caring if he would contract whatever disease his uncle carried, Nico flung his arms around Ari’s frail shoulders and scooped him into a tight embrace.
Hadwin returned to Teselin’s chambers that evening feeling pretty damn accomplished. His keen ears overheard the entire conversation between Nico and his uncle, and honestly, it couldn’t have gone better. Excited to unveil the news to Teselin, he slipped into her room, only to find her…asleep. Ah well, it’s so rare to see her restful, he thought, shedding his clothes in preparation to shake into his wolf skin. It’ll wait till morning.
Some hours later, he was jostled awake by the gentle rocking of a bed in mid-shift. An extraordinarily light sleeper, especially as a wolf, he crooked open one eye to spot Teselin slithering out the door on nimble feet. Wherever she intended on going, it wasn’t his business to pursue, except…
He envisioned Teselin, lying unconscious under a tree in the midsummer heat, her arm engorged well beyond its proportions, the smell of flesh sizzling in his nostrils as the Mollengardian manacle branded deep into her skin…
Hadwin shot to his feet, reverted to his human skin, and hurriedly got dressed. It was a violation of her privacy to follow, he realized, but he had been privy to her unraveling state of mind. In her desperation to help, the odds of summoning danger would surely tilt in her favor. Better to have someone looking after her in case all hell broke loose.
Yanking Nia’s concealment cloak from the rack, he flung it over his shoulders and exited the room, but he didn’t tail after Teselin. Instead, he anticipated her destination, and took an alternative path to the Night Garden.
Someone else was also looking for Teselin in the Night Garden, and found her before Hadwin did.
“Teselin.” A woman clad entirely in black stepped forward, a faint yellow light of etherea hovering over her hand, bright enough to illuminate the summoner’s features when held aloft. “You are Nia’s best chance. You won’t fail. I’ll make sure that you don’t.” Tivia Rigas pointed the light down a previously hidden forested path. “This way to Locque. Your mongrel is near. He’s looking for you. He’ll support your decision—to an extent. If you say the word, I’ll stop him from reaching you.”
The ghostly remnant of Locque had the uncanny ability to appear to those who needed her at any given moment, so long as they traveled the Night Garden. Teslin had stumbled upon the lost apparition of a once-was girl multiple times before, during far less distressing periods, and she was counting on happening upon her again in the vastness of the bioluminescent Night Garden, which--as per its name--was at its most magical potency when the sun went down. But the frequency of her appearances did not make the Night Garden any less vast. Some maintained the rumour that it actually expanded at night, in ways that entirely denied the laws of physics, but anything was possible within a Garden where no one could die.
Just because Teselin had the dumb luck of running into her brothers and Alster two nights in a row did not mean she would be as lucky in finding Locque. As the young summoner moved through the thicket of the Garden, she crossed paths with many a Gardener, but all of them were alive and well, and none of them could help her with her current predicament. There was only one other summoner whose existence she was aware of… And that summoner chose to appear to others at her whim. “Locque?” Teselin whispered her name, afraid of the attention she might draw if the Gardeners on duty heard her calling for the witch who had nearly razed this kingdom with her invisible nightmare creatures. She had yet to successfully summon the spirit of the former Gardener by calling her name, but this version of Locque--the truest version--wanted to be needed. She offered help to those who didn’t even realize they wanted or needed it. So, then… where was she, when Teselin so desperately needed her now?
“Locque, please… Locque.” The young summoner sighed, beginning to give up hope that she would find the benevolent spectre. “There’s no one else who can help me…”
Looking this way and that, hoping and expecting Locque to simply ‘appear’ before her, it wasn’t the ghostly Gardener who heard her pleas afterall. Teselin stopped in her tracks as a woman clad in a black cloak approached her. Witchlight shone from her hand, illuminating her features enough to discern her identity. “...Tivia?” What was the star seer doing here in the Night Garden, responding to a summons that didn’t involve her? The last time she’d seen this particular Rigas woman… It was to undo the fatal damage her own magic could have caused. Miraculously reversing the tragedy that could have been her fault. Tivia knew just as much as anyone else--perhaps more--how her mere existence made her a liability and a danger to everyone. The summoner wasn’t sure exactly how Tivia knew where she would be and why she was there (perhaps it was a mere coincidence), but for all the star seer might have thought stopping her would prevent yet another tragedy, Teselin knew in her heart that she couldn’t allow herself to be stopped.
“...whatever you’re thinking of doing to stop me, Tivia, I’m begging you not to.” She said, holding her head as high as she realistically could and standing her ground. “I know I have the ability to reach places that others can’t. And if there is even the smallest possibility that I can bring Nia back…”
To her utter bewilderment, Tivia put up neither a fight nor an argument against her wishes. On the contrary… it appeared that she had come to help her. Because she believed in what she could do. And if Tivia Rigas, the only known star seer in current existence, believed that she had the power to ensure Nia Ardane opened her eyes again, then it had to be so. After all, this woman was capable of glimpsing into possible futures, given her connection to the stars and all their secrets. “You…” She could barely believe what she’d heard, and went mute for almost a solid minute when it turned out she was not expected to defend her decision. “You want… to help me? Even after everything I almost did?” Was this some sort of trick to divert her away from her goal? Teselin felt she had every right to be suspicious of Tivia’s offer to help, especially considering they had never had much of a meaningful relationship. But Tivia seemed so… sincere. And sure of yourself. She had confidence that the young summoner was the key to Nia’s awakening.
Teselin felt tears gather in her eyes. This was the first time anyone had ever approached her with such conviction that she had what it took to be of help… And it gave her hope. “If you know where Locque is… show me.” She whispered and took a step forward. “Hadwin… I don’t want him to interfere. Not yet. Not until I know what it is I need to do.”
Without any further hesitation, she followed the path Tivia had indicated, and sure enough, the ghostly Gardener wandered in search of the man she would never find again. Against her better judgment, Teselin felt for her: to relive this moment of uncertainty in her life, one filled simultaneously with hope and concern, was painful to witness, especially when no one could help her. But right now, she didn’t have time to feel sorry for Locque’s spirit, nor did she have time to entertain her plight. Every moment Nia remained unconscious, her body slowly forgetting what it was like to be animate, was another moment adding to the difficulty of bringing her back to the land of the living. When the apparition of the Gardener caught sight of her and parted her lips as if to speak, Teselin had no choice but to interrupt.
“Locque; I can’t help you find who you are looking for. But I need your help.” The Kristeva girl forewent preamble, aiming straight for the point. “There’s a woman in the sanctuary right now; she’s alive, but unconscious, and no one can reach her mind. But I am like you… I have magic that I hardly understand, yet I am sure I can reach her with it. I just don’t know how, and I… I hope you can help me, because no one else can.”
Locque blinked, seemingly taken aback by Teselin’s forward demeanor, but true to her benevolent nature, she did not turn the young summoner away. “You’re asking me how you, as a summoner, can reach the mind of an unconscious girl? But it’s the same way you can reach anything.” She furrowed her thin eyebrows as if the answer were already obvious. “If you don’t allow your magic to reach for and seize you, but instead, reach for it in all of its vastness and possibility, you can be anything, anywhere, at any time.”
“But I don’t know what that means.” Tears returned to Teselin’s eyes. Her knees felt weak; she was so close to collapsing in a sobbing heap. “I don’t know how to reach for it. To be anything, anywhere… please help me, Locque.”
“If you are asking me to teach you… it isn’t a matter of something that can be learned. Because you already know how, even if you don’t realize it yet.” The ghostly summoner smiled and took Teselin’s hands in her own. She was not corporeal, and yet, Teselin could feel the cold and pressure of her pale fingers. “The first step is letting go--of everything. Doubt, expectations, hopes, everything. Feel what is around you, and you will know when you find it. And when you do, follow it. I promise you… you will know.”
Why, oh why, did this have to be the single time when Locque was only capable of offering some cryptic advice? Was there really no herb from the Night Garden or magical gathering of leylines that would make this any easier? “How will I know,” Teselin whispered, close to despairing, “when I don’t know my own magic? When, to this day, it has only destroyed and cost people their lives?”
“It is like I said: don’t let it reach for you. Untold destruction can occur if wayward energies use you as their amplifier and act out. For what you need, you must do the very opposite, and reach for the energies instead. Don’t despair!” Locque dropped her hands. “Let go of despair, of doubt, expectation, and even hope. Let go of yourself. Let yourself become what you need to be to reach your friend--but be open to accepting all that becomes of your transformation. Your magic is one with lasting impacts, on you in particular.”
Realizing that there wasn’t anything else she could hope for Locque to tell her, Teselin nodded, although struggled to let go of that very doubt the spirit of the Gardener had advised her to. What were the chances some cryptic advice would suddenly click and show her the way? Show her what she had to do to awaken Nia? Let go of your doubt. The more she thought about it, the more difficult it seemed. So she stopped thinking about it as she retraced her steps, and inevitably, ran back into Hadwin.
“It’s alright; I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” Teselin smiled at the faoladh. Had he been looking for her all this time? Tivia must have done a good job leading him astray for the time it took for her conversation with Locque to unfold. “I feel like if you need answers, there is nowhere better to be than the Night Garden. I’m not sure I got any answers, but…” The young summoner stared off into the distance, down the path where she had met with Locque. “I’m starting to feel better than I did before. I think I just need some time to find peace in all of the chaos this kingdom has been through…”
Cradling her injured arm, she met Hadwin’s concerned gaze with a simple smile. “I can’t sleep anyway, so I might as well be here. I promise I’m alright; it’s not like anything bad can happen to me in the Night Garden. I think I just… need a little time alone.” Letting her bad arm slowly drop, she touched Hadwin’s shoulder with her uninjured appendage. “Thank you for looking out for me when so many other people would sooner run the other way… honestly? I don’t really know what I’d do without you, Hadwin. I’ve had friends come and go ad nauseum, but not you. You’ve always stayed. Thanks for having that faith in me.”
She must have been calm and lucid enough to convince him that she had no intention to do anything destructive (to herself or otherwise), because after a few heartfelt words of encouragement, the faoladh respected her wishes and left her alone to wander the Night Garden with her thoughts. Teselin didn’t go far before she found herself at the heart of the Garden, central to the sentinel tree. She recalled Haraldur having had spiritual awakenings before this vast tree, but personally… she had never felt it reach for her, or offer anything special. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t a Gardener, or perhaps it simple had no answers to impart, but if there was ever a time she needed some divine intervention, it was now.
“You talk to the Gardeners, to Haraldur… even Alster has picked up on some of your whisperings.” Teselin sighed and pressed her good hand to its rough bark. It felt just the same as any other tree; nothing out of the ordinary. “You spoke to Locque… I’m not so different from her. Not from the way she was, at least. Do you really have nothing to say to me? Nothing at all? I just want to help… for once, I want to take what I have, and use it for good.”
There was no answer. No voice speaking to her mind, no tingle in her skin that suggested she felt any differently. It was just a tree, and while it might have listened and spoke to others, it had nothing to say to her. But there was something else in the Night Garden, on coincidence or otherwise, that acknowledged her existence. When she took a defeated seat upon the ground, a tiny, flickering glow made its way toward her, and a firefly alighted on her knee. Its hindquarters glimmered a shift between green and blue, back and forth, and it flexed its wings peacefully at rest. “Maybe you should go and visit Nia,” Teselin said gently to the little glowing fly. “She loves your kind. I think it would bring her a lot of happiness and hope… Maybe Lord Canaveris, too.”
Slowly, unfolding like a blooming flower one petal at a time, something came to the young summoner. Nia did love the fireflies; they had a place in her spiritual psyche. Was it at all possible that, through some wild magic, they could get through to the unconscious Master Alchemist?
“...can you help me?” Teselin whispered to the little lightning bug, softly so as not to startle it. “Help me help someone… who saved my life.”
She had something to do, someone to see, but… who? What? Nia couldn’t remember, and every time she tried, she grew so, so tired, and collapsed back on the plush velvet of the sofa in her parents’ livingroom. This was the cycle she lived, day to day, unable to break for… how long had it been, now? She would awaken and wander the empty house, go to the empty kitchen and realize she wasn’t hungry, which was a good thing because there was never any food, anyway. She never saw her mother or her father or her brother or any of the serving staff, but occasionally she thought she saw Celene out of the corner of her eye, or heard Palla’s laughter somewhere down a corridor. Whenever she followed these sights or sounds, nothing came of it but the vacuum of utter emptiness that was this house.
The sun never rose or set outside the windows, because it was always night. Perhaps it was that she found herself sleeping all day; she didn’t think much of it. She did her rounds of the house, looking for something to do, someone to see, sometimes plucked the strings on her sister’s harp or tried to make her way into rooms that were otherwise off limits to her, but they were all locked. What am I supposed to be doing? Where is everyone? When will they come back? Nothing ever changed and no one ever arrived; she would peer out the windows of the vast house into the darkness, but saw no one and nothing. Just the trees and hills of the forest beyond…
…until one day--or night--Nia saw something different. A flicker of light outside one of the windows. Drawing closer to the window, that single flicker turned into multiple flickers: one then three then ten then… more than she could count.
Fireflies? The young woman was dumbfounded: was it winter already? That was the only time she ever saw the magical fireflies that were rumoured to grant wishes. But these little flies did not flicker in the distance… no, they were right outside the window, the door, as if beckoning her. But the doors don’t open… She lamented aloud to herself, pulling on the handle in vain. She pulled and pulled again, but to no avail. She was growing tired again; she soon wouldn’t have the strength to keep trying if she didn’t open it now, but when she awoke again, those fireflies might be gone. She might miss the chance to get her wish!
Come on… come on! Nia grunted, pulling again and again. I’m tired of being stuck here…!
Suddenly, something clicked, and the lock on the door not only gave in, but the door flew open so hard that it sent Nia flying backward and with such force she landed on her tailbone. Before her very eyes, the fireflies flew through the doorway and surrounded her, twinkling like little fairies. Her heart grew warm and her mouth stretched into a smile; she almost didn’t notice how, for the first time in so long, the sun began to crest the horizon. Do I have to catch you? She asked the fireflies, and reached out to touch them. Or are… are you here to grant my wish, anyway?
Back in the sanctuary, some four to five days following the procedure that had saved Lord Canaveris’s life, the unconscious form of Nia Ardane--who hadn’t so much as twitched since then--shifted ever so slightly on her cot, as she expelled a soft sigh. Perhaps the most promising signs anyone had witnessed since she had fallen into her coma.
At the height of his emotional vulnerability, Nico hadn’t realized his error until well after he committed it. From the way Ari’s shoulders stiffened under his nephew’s impromptu embrace, Nico hastily withdrew, forcing his hands in an awkward clasp upon his lap. “My apologies, Uncle,” he bowed his head, truly contrite. “I understand your general aversion to touch remains a sore point and I should have known better than to impose on your privacy like that…and—“
“—It is fine, Nico. Really,” Ari gently interjected, going so far as to place a hand, naked and gloveless, upon Nico’s shoulder. “Such an aversion means little to me among family and loved ones. Be that as it may, I regret having worried you so. How have you and your sister fared these past few days?” Leave it to Ari not to focus on his ongoing series of crucibles, but on the well-being of those who had been hurt from them.
“No…that is not fair,” Nico muttered at first, uncertain if he should express his worries at all. But they were like a tide that had been dammed up and left to thrash uselessly against the sea wall, until a storm engorged them to a size ripe for overcoming their obstacle. He had contained himself for far too long now. “That is an entirely unfair question, and you know it!” he cried, his voice dramatically swelling in volume. “Why should it matter how I felt when I was hardly the one who suffered? I was not sitting on the brink of death. Loss should mean nothing to me compared with what you’ve endured! I have no right to harbor an opinion, no right at all, when you,” he gasped, unable to stop the onslaught of his words, “you were almost gone! And yet you act as if nothing befell you when who knows if you will recover in full!? Not to mention Nia, who might never awake—“
He regretted the comment the moment it flew from his lips and touched Ari’s ears, his indulgent expression immediately crumpling into one of suffused pain. Nico bit his tongue. Hard. “Forgive me, Uncle. I said some regrettable things.” He propelled himself from the bed and stood. “I—I should go.”
“It was…difficult, what happened,” Ari began, whispering and fragile, like delicate porcelain. “So very difficult. I felt myself coming apart, so fundamentally and completely, I thought I would never again be made whole. That this was the end, much as I fought terribly to preserve it. But I was so tired, so finished. Tragically, I had welcomed my fate. The precipice. My final self-undoing. I never desired to die, you must know that, and yet there death waited for me to take their hand and plunge into nothingness. I thought I had no choice but to comply. Even now, my surroundings feel…surreal. Like I am neither dead nor alive. But I attribute such sensations to my malaise,” he clarified with the curl of a reassuring smile. “If one were to ask how I feel, I could not grant an honest response…because I do not know how I feel. Am I relieved? Elated?” He gave a gentle, side-to-side shake of his head as his dark gaze flitted on Nia’s unconscious form in the next bed. “All I can say is that I am holding my breath and…waiting.”
Ari’s heartfelt confession stymied Nico to a full stop. Since when did his uncle ever confide any thoughts that weren’t superficial or reeking of faux cheer and gratitude? For the first time he could recall, Ari had admitted to the truth in front of his nephew. A truth not filtered in pomp and grandiosity, but instead delivered raw, and rough, and wounded. Although Nico had received exactly what he’d sought to achieve with his uncle for years, he was rendered speechless…and uncomfortable. In place of meeting Ari’s contemplative gaze, he settled his attention on Nia, whose slow, measured breaths confirmed that she was, if nothing else, alive.
“Do you…believe she will awaken?” Nico said, at a loss for what else to say. For once, he couldn’t stand the silence that gulfed between them. It was far too uncharacteristic of Ari’s animated, expansive persona to pervade such somber energy.
Ari did not answer the inquiry. Instead, he rather took Nico by surprise with an abrupt subject change. “How fares Miss Teselin?”
Nico gawked, too taken aback to formulate an appropriate reaction. “How…how would I know?” he blurted defensively. “Are we not allowed to associate with her like, per your explicit instruction?”
“You might find this comparison obtuse or perhaps improbable, but as a youth, I often disobeyed my superiors. Your grandmother, especially,” a small light of mischievousness appeared in his eyes. “Despite her orders, I disobeyed them on a near daily basis. In fact, I became quite masterful at sneaking out of the Canaveris estate undetected…and I daresay I have the nose for determining the stirrings of rebellion present in my own kin. On the night of the Solstice ball, you spent time with Miss Teselin, did you not?”
Shit. How did he know?! Nico quickly darted a suspicious look at the window, where the dratted faoladh lurked. Did Hadwin spill the truth for whatever reason?
Ari gave a patient sigh. “Laz told me, but I had already suspected,” he replied to Nico’s very loud, yet soundless panicking. “If you are to disobey my orders, Nico…pray you are a tad more clandestine about it.”
Did Nico catch a hint of…humor in Ari’s voice? So he wasn’t angry? Disappointed? Cross?
He frowned, his confusion apparent. “Uncle Ari, I do not understand. Are you suggesting—allowing—my association with Miss Teselin?”
“Whatever do you mean?” He tossed his head, his smile flippant, almost lazy. “I am merely stating that you should take care not to get caught. Doing so would reflect poorly on our prestige. Do you understand?” Nico wasn’t certain, but he thought he caught his uncle winking, but it could have been a trick of the light. Either way, the gesture, real or imagined, elicited a nervous laugh to sputter from his mouth.
“U-understood, Uncle Ari.” Hand to heart, he bowed, hiding the corners of a barely-contained smile. “I will do my level best to live up to your rigorous expectations. We Canaverises should, after all, be the model of grace and,” his smile wobbled forth at the word, “discretion.”
“By the look on your face, I take it things went well!”
Nico almost forgot Hadwin had been waiting for him outside, slumped against the wooden facade and dressed in Nia’s concealment cloak. However, he was too preoccupied to remember their pre-established arrangement in where the faoladh would hunker down and act as moral support for the duration. In his excitement, he grabbed hold of his arm—the only part visible under the vanishing cloth.
“Can you believe it? My uncle, unprompted, granted me permission to see Miss Teselin!” Not wanting to announce the good news so loudly, he yanked the wolf-man close to whisper it into his ear. “Within reason, of course; we cannot be seen together, for one, but this is a step in the right direction, surely!”
“Well call me impressed as shit. I guess the near-death experience knocked some sense into your uncle’s noggin.” Hadwin let forth a low, impressed whistle as he shoved Nico playfully against the shoulder. “It’s a little late to celebrate, so I’ll tell you what; I’ll deliver the good news to Tes and we’ll arrange something for the morning, yeah?”
Nico nodded vigorously, too shocked and deliriously happy to argue and modify the plan. “Thank you, Mister…er, Hadwin,” he amended, remembering the faoladh disliked titles and honorifics. “I must admit you are rather deranged, but no one can argue your loyalty for Miss Teselin runs deep. On that front, you have earned my trust.”
“Dawr—thanks for the honest endorsement, my lad! I guess you ain’t half bad yourself. Now,” he smacked Nico’s back with a tad more force, “go on and get, before your uncle sees us together and changes his mind about the whole arrangement. It’s no exaggeration to say he fucking hates my guts.”
Fully intending on relaying the good news to Teselin, Hadwin arrived that evening to the summoner appearing sound asleep, and instead of waking her, decided to hold off on the news until the morning. Only, he wasn’t sure he’d get the chance now that she had opted for a midnight stroll around the Night Garden. While he trusted her and the decisions she made, he didn’t trust other people. If her last foray alone was any indication, he was all the more impelled to follow her—at least until he could ascertain her safety.
Having wandered the Night Garden plenty of times, cataloging its alien flora and sampling (rather, smoking) more specimens than the average non-Gardener, he’d become something of a natural at exploring its mysterious depths, day or night. He knew of its tendency to stretch to unexplainable proportions whenever the sun sank past the horizon, opening more obscure areas to explore—unless it was the many substances he consumed that explained the disparity. Either way, something about tonight felt…off. The main pathway he always walked to get from one end of the Garden to another had…narrowed, and diverged, sending him straight into an unknown thicket of tall, winnowy trees.
“The hell?” He exclaimed aloud, granting each tree a suspicious squint. “I don’t know your kind. And I’m sober as shit right now so it ain’t me who’s wrong!”
Or…was he?
The pathway on which he tread distorted. The trees folded over on themselves and melted into colorful puddles at his feet. The once-flat road pitched in elevation, the incline steepening with every attempted footfall. Being bedridden for so long, he wasn’t yet at his peak physique, and fought for his breath as he climbed, and climbed, and climbed, to a long-imagined summit that never appeared. Stray wisps of mist rolled past his head, whispering his name, pricking his ears like sinister barbs. The more he fought through the scenery, the more he experienced it all; the spikes in elevation, the melting landscape, the quaking unsteadiness underfoot, the whorls of thickening mist, and the faces it formed. They all wore her haunted visage as they converged upon him at every angle. Rowen’s dead, unblinking eyes. Rowen’s pursed, dissatisfied mouth. Rowen’s soft, yet cutting timbre as she filled the air with her immortal curses. Fall, Hadwin. Fall into darkness. Fall with me, forever…
Then the mists coalesced, and Rowen emerged from the night, all flesh and hue and form. She smiled at him like she was genuinely glad for their encounter, and spoke of doing well despite her inability to sleep. He nodded along to her concerns, all too familiar with the ravages of insomnia and its unforgiving chokehold on its poor, unsuspecting victims. “Don’t I know it?” He chuckled low in his throat, happy to hear Rowen was at least dealing with a lighter sentence than her usual existential terrors, which often left her a shivering, sobbing mess. “Well, if this is where you feel you ought to be, who am I to stop you? But hey,” he lightly touched her arm—solid, warm, pliant, alive, “that’s what I’m here for, right? Though,” he quirked a brow at her strange wording, “I mean, saying we’re ‘friends’ foremost misses the mark a bit. We’re way more than that, c’mon. Gimme some credit here. I’m not so piss-poor a brother that you can’t even say it with a straight face. But sure,” he gave her arm one last tap before severing their contact. “Friends till the end.”
Thus released into the Night Garden, Rowen turned and sauntered off, leaving Hadwin alone, trapped in a peaceful memory of a dead sister that never happened. He continued blissfully on his way, not knowing where he was headed, but the path before him was now clear, steady, flat, and fog-free.
Since Nico’s visit, Ari couldn’t sleep—a feat one would think came easily for the fever-muddled and exhausted Canaveris lord, but not only did sleeping remind him of death, but closing his eyes for even a simple rest meant losing sight of Nia, and what if when he next awakened, she was gone, lost to him for good? Much as he rested his faith on Isidor and Alster for a positive outcome, Ari wasn’t immune to doubt, and having precious little else to do while bedridden, doubt occupied much of his time. Perhaps if Laz were present for the hours when Nadira nodded off to sleep in the chair she seldom refused to leave, then he wouldn’t feel so guilty about wishing for sleepless company to distract him, but the golem had disappeared from his life without anyone knowing of her whereabouts, and worse, their psychic connection had somehow been severed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach his loyal friend and retainer. And with both Laz and Nia so far afield from his grasp, Ari, despite being surrounded by beloved family and friends, couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of loneliness yank and tear at his sore chest.
That evening, he attempted to fill the void with a book. Under the mellow, suffusing table-side lantern, he turned pages without absorbing the black-inked scrawl of text. It blurred into indecipherable blotches under his feverbright eyes, causing him to blink frequently, which produced more tears to filter over and unfocus his vision. With a sigh of frustration, he closed the book and set it aside. In midst of moving, he caught something flashing from the corner of his eye, in a direction opposing the lantern. Looking up, he saw…nothing but the glass-coated window before him, and the winking reflection of the low-flickering lantern flame in its portable brazier. Surely, he must be seeing things…
Another flash, and this time he was looking straight at it. A firefly alighted near his window, pulsing yellow-green as it flitted erratically across each pane. As if…it wanted to come inside.
Pushing aside his covers, Ari got to his feet, leaning against the wall for balance until he reached the window, and lifted the latch securing it shut. Sure enough, the firefly sailed inside the sanctuary, and hovered over Ari’s outstretched palm. Carefully, he closed his fingers over the luminous insect, trapping it in his palm while he solemnly bowed his head and closed his eyes.
I wish…
I wish…for you to return to me, Nia.
Return. Please return…
He opened his hand and reserved a small, sad smile for the bewildered firefly. “I hope I am not burdening you so with the heft of my wish,” he whispered as the firefly floated away from its temporary imprisonment, back towards the open window and the fresh, night air it betokened. “But if it would not be too much trouble…it’s important. She saved my life, at risk of her own. She is my beloved. We wished for a future together. Do you or any of your brethren remember? Our joint wish?”
But the firefly was long gone, having evacuated the sanctuary and vanishing into the cool summer eve. Nodding with resignation, Ari closed the window latch and turned back to his bed, readying his leaden feet for the short but arduous trek…
But he stopped short when he heard the cot beside him creak, followed by a soft sigh. Ari almost stumbled as he swerved towards the sound, eyes wide. No other being occupied a cot in the sanctuary, save for…
Nia.
“Are you sure this is what you heard last night?” Alster said, kneeling by Nia’s cot to check her breathing and pulse. “I’m not meaning to dismiss your account, but I just want to confirm it with you.”
“Yes, that is what happened. I am certain of it. I swear so on my name. I could not have been any more lucid. My constitution suffers, but not my mind, I assure you.” Ari sat at the edge of his cot, eyeing both Alster and Isidor who he’d summoned to examine Nia’s body. Nadira stood beside him, her hand weighing down on his shoulder in case he thought of springing to his feet in his excitement and needlessly overexerting himself. “She most definitely showed signs of coming to. I invite you to observe for yourself.”
Nodding mutely, Alster decided to do just that. Closing his eyes, he placed a hand over Nia’s forehead and lapsed into a meditative state for a few minutes. When he at last broke his concentration and opened his eyes, it was with an optimistic—and puzzled—bearing on his face. “You’re right, Ari.” Shaking away his initial bewilderment, he latched tighter on the threads of optimism. “I have her within my grasp. I’m sure I can reach her. Allow me some time…and I’ll push her consciousness to the surface.”
When Ari summoned both Alster and Isidor yet again in such a small amount of time, the Master Alchemist was sure that the poor Canaveris lord was delusional. They had checked on Nia just recently, and there had been no detectable activity in her mind; at least, none that they could reach. Not only that, but there had been no indication that she would improve without intervention, and by the sounds of it, no one had intervened since their last visit to the sanctuary. Yet the earth mage had been so adamant about maintaining there was a change in the woman he loved that the least Isidor could do was humour him, if for no reason than for the sake of his health. After all, if they didn’t entertain hope… what did they have left?
“And… what was it you witnessed, exactly?” Isidor asked Ari in a careful tone when he and Alster arrived to attend to Nia. “Did she move? Talk in her sleep?”
Nothing of the sort, it seemed. What Ari had witnessed (or thought he witnessed) had been no more than a subtle change in her breathing, which could have honestly meant anything. “I… see. Of course… any change that does not indicate deterioration can only indicate recovery.” He smiled, but it was shaky, so he quickly looked to Alster before Ari could detect any falsehood in his opinion. But when Alster placed a hand on Nia’s forehead, he did not appear doubtful. Rather, he seemed… surprised.
“...what?” Did he hear right? Isidor cleared his throat and nervously toyed with the stem of his spectacles. “Alster, you’re… sure? That’s… that’s incredible. If you think you can bring her back without disrupting her recovery… then I say make it so.” He was almost afraid to say it, lest it jinx their chances, but under his breath he couldn’t help but utter, “Please bring her back.”
The sun was up. The door was open. And yet… Nia didn’t know where to go. The door was open, and the sun was up, so didn’t that mean they’d return? They as in… anyone? Celine. Palla. Even Daryen, that bastard, would have offered some reprieve that she wasn’t alone anymore if she saw her smarmy brother’s face. Hells, even her mother would be a welcome change from the nothingness of this massive, empty house. But despite that the sun did not set, and the door remained open, no one came in. Of course, it was well within her power to go out and find them herself… wasn’t it?
Nia wasn’t sure what was keeping her from stepping outside. The delightful fireflies had disappeared almost as soon as she’d opened the door, and she hadn’t had a chance to ask for her wish. At first, it had left her disappointed, but what if her wish had been for that door to open all along? Now, she had her chance to leave. Now, she no longer had any excuse to sleep and to wait and to wander this house in search of anyone or anything.
So, then… why didn’t she leave?
What’s out there? What if I’m safer staying in here? Why… would I want to leave my home? Uncertainty: exactly what always kept her paralyzed. Because she chose to wait for something to happen, some miracle to occur, something to change that would incite change for her… but nothing happened when the fireflies disappeared. Everything was the same, and no one came home. So, then… had anything really changed?
The more she thought about it, she would grow weary and tired, and ultimately retire to the sofa in her parents’ livingroom, just as she did whenever her mind worked too hard focusing on any form of problem solving. Feeling that weariness creep up on her, the young, budding Master Alchemist--no older than she had been when her family had been massacred on the order of the Ilandrian monarchy--made her way back to that familiar piece of furniture. The door is open. Someone will come in… when the time is right.
It just so happened that she was right: someone did come in, just as she was about to close her eyes and drift off once again. The sight of a shadow in the doorway, a form silhouetted against the sunny backdrop, permitted her tired mind a second wind and she jumped to her feet. “Daryen?! Do you know where”…
It wasn’t her older brother. It wasn’t one of her sisters, or parents, or even any of the house staff. The man in the doorway had blonde hair and slightly pointed ears; she didn’t recognize him. Yet… somehow, he seemed to know her, as he addressed her by name.
“Who are you? And where… Where did you come from?” He might not have been familiar, but maybe he knew something. He was the first person she’d seen in as long as she could remember; maybe he knew where her family was. Or where anyone inhabiting this house was. “Have you seen anyone else?”
As it turned out, he hadn’t. There was no one there… except for him. And this stranger, this stranger who somehow knew her, he… he wanted her to come with him.
“What?” Go with him? As in, leave her home? And with a stranger, at that… it sounded ludicrous. “I… I can’t just leave. What if I’m not here when they all come back? They’ll wonder where I am. And they’ll be so angry…”
The stranger gave her what appeared to be a pitying look, and told her that no one was going to return. She was the only one here, and he wanted to escort her out to find others, again. “But I… even if I wanted to, I don’t think I can. Whenever I get too close to the door, I get so tired.” She bunched her skirt in her hands and looked down at her bare feet, feeling ashamed to admit her inaction out loud. It wasn’t technically her fault that she was at the mercy of this strange fatigue, was it? Perhaps she just didn’t want to admit how it tied into her fear of stepping into the unknown. This man said he knew her, said he wanted to help her, but could she trust him?
“What if I’m safer here? I might be safer if I stay.” The stranger admitted that perhaps, in some ways, that might be true. But he was also quick to point out that while she might be safe, she would never be happy, because no one would ever return to this house. She wasn’t sure how he knew this, but for some reason, she was inclined to believe him. He didn’t seem dangerous at face value, and he was the first person she’d encountered in as long as she could remember. Maybe… maybe, this stranger was her best option. Deep down, she’d wanted to find someone, anyone, to break up the monotony of this solitude. Perhaps, deep down, that had been her wish all along,
Looking around her empty house once more, young Nia swallowed, and relaxed her hands from the fists formed around her skirts. “I’ll try.” She conceded at last with a finite nod. “But I don’t know how far I can get on my own…”
Her concern turned out to be valid; as she neared the door, enough that the sunlight spilled onto her face, an intense wave of fatigue overtook her, and her ankles wobbled. “I’m… so tired.” She sighed, and had to grab onto the stranger’s arm to remain upright. “I don’t know if I can…”
She didn’t quite make it to the threshold before her legs gave out. At that point, the helpful stranger managed to lift her and carry her the rest of the way outside the house. Nia wanted to fall asleep, but outside the confines of the great house, the sun was suddenly so bright…
Everything was so… bright. Back in the sanctuary, the groundbreaking Master Alchemist Nia Ardane cracked her eyes open, and winced, drawing in a sharp breath. “... so… bright…” Her throat hurt, and her voice--if you could call that hoarse wheeze a voice--was barely audible to her own ears. Her limbs felt so heavy, as were her eyelids. She just wanted to sleep…
…but someone--by the sounds of it, a few someones--had other ideas. Someone took her by the shoulders and set her in an upright position; half a moment later, the cool rim of a tin cup was pressed to her lips.
“You need to drink it, Nia.” An urgent voice commanded her. It was familiar… it belonged to someone she knew. Another Master Alchemist… “You’ve gone too long with so little keeping you going; drink this, try to stay awake for a few minutes…”
She wasn’t hungry--or was she? Nia didn’t know, but with her head too cloudy to think, she had little choice but to trust the advice of another stranger. The liquid in the cup tasted sweet; a little medicinal, but not so much that she wasn’t sure if she could keep it down. She managed to take several sips before she turned away to draw more air into her tired lungs. It felt as though she had been running for her life, but… it appeared she had been lying down.
“We need to keep her awake; long enough for her body to remember how to function as a conscious entity,” Isidor explained to those in the room listening--to Ari in particular, since the Canaveris lord would be sharing the sanctuary with the newly awakened woman for some time yet. “We can let her rest later. If she can finish that restorative tonic, and have another glass later, it’ll be all her body needs to start restoring her strength. I wouldn’t recommend anything solid for at least a couple of days…”
“... don’t talk… like… I can’t understand.” Nia rasped, much to the delight and relief of everyone in the room. While the young Nia, trapped so deep in the confines of her own mind, hadn’t any recollection of her adult experiences (or the people in her life), the now fully conscious Nia Ardane at the very least seemed somewhat aware of her situation.
Isidor couldn’t help but laugh at the Ardane woman’s characteristic response to her treatment. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relieved. “See? I told you, Lady Canaveris. I told you it would only be a matter of time before you had your son and the object of his affections back. Nia,” he rested a hand on her shoulder and gestured to Ari. “You did it. Your brave risk completely paid off, against all odds. You are officially the first documented individual to use transmutation to change a magically-inflicted curse into a curable illness.”
“Curse? You mean…” Nia settled her exhausted brown eyes on Ari, who managed to push past Alster and Isidor touch her face with an ungloved hand. With what little strength Nia could manage, she lifted her arm to cover his hand with hers. “Ari… you feel different. You’re sick, but…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened, recognition and context slowly but surely falling into place. “...we did it. It’s gone. Your curse is…”
Tears began to gather in her eyes, and her lower lip trembled. She was alive--Ari was alive. “I don’t… remember where I’ve been. Or where I was. But I remember… I saw a firefly. Just like the ones we saw in… in the Night Garden…”
“Please pardon me if this comes across as insensitive, but it would be best if you could maintain composure.” Isidor suggested, noting how worked up Nia’s already exhausted body was getting as realization dawned on her, one detail at a time. “Your body isn’t going to recover as quickly from what you’ve been through if it’s preoccupied with forming and expelling tears…”
“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” The Ardane woman protested, although ultimately took a breath to try and compose herself. They’d done it; they’d taken Master Alchemy and magic to a whole other level. Whatever was recorded of this procedure could become a part of history… but, most importantly, Ari was alive. Not only alive, but no longer at the mercy of his curse.
For the first time in a long time, she really could see their future with clarity. Even if Galeyn never forgave her for her involvement with Locque, even if she never found acceptance within a community, she would have Ari, and all of his family. “...I’m sorry. For… leaving during the ball without a word. I know it was that distress that put you in such… such a poor condition. Ari, I hope you can forgive me…”
“I’ll see to it that visitors keep their distance for now.” Isidor offered the couple, knowing how much it meant to them to see one another again. News that both Ari and Nia had awoken and survived the ordeal would interest a great deal of people, perhaps contrary to what Nia believed, but it was so important that the two of them lay low to recover as quickly and efficiently as possible. “Please, do not hesitate to contact Alster or myself if you need anything at all, or have even the slightest concerns.”
To leave the small area less crowded, both Alster and Isidor respectfully took their leave, after offering Nadira instructions for how to best look out for Nia’s wellbeing while her body recovered. The Ardane woman was ordered to comply with bedrest for the next forty-eight hours at the very least, and then they would re-assess, depending on how much strength her body had regained. “I… honestly don’t know what changed. Just the other night, Nia seemed so far away. Like nothing could retrieve her.” Isidor scratched the back of his neck. The sudden change in her unconscious activity perplexed him, as well as Alster, but there was no way of knowing exactly how she would recover in the aftermath. “I suppose it all just came down to time. Although I can’t deny, it’s hard to say if she’d have awoken at all, were you not able to bring her back to consciousness, Alster.”
Isidor spared a glance at the sanctuary over his shoulder and hazarded a tired smile. “While we should restrict visitors for the time being, I think we should put people in the know. Teselin will be delighted to know that Nia is awake; any bit of good news is due to lift her spirits, I think. I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but…” The Kristeva brother expelled a sigh and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “I suppose we should let Hadwin know, as well. They’re good friends; he will be happy to know she made it out of the dark.”
Alster didn’t know what had changed overnight, but one preliminary examination of Nia’s status revealed a rather unprecedented change. Perhaps his initial suppositions were correct, and the matter just needed some time to resolve itself. Whatever the case, he wasn’t about to squander the opportunity by obsessing over why the sudden shift of consciousness had occurred, lest she revert back to her previous state and they lost their chance to guide her free of her internal prison. For all his earlier fretting that he couldn’t make a difference in saving Nia, this was his moment to prove himself wrong. No longer would “Nothing” benchmark his limitations.
“Yes,” he answered, his confidence mounting. “This is well within my capabilities.” Pulling up a chair, he scooted it close to Nia’s cot and returned a hand upon her forehead.
Ari, hanging off the edge of his cot, nodded, hope daring to fill his fever-stricken features. “Please do so, Lord Rigas. I humbly ask of you.”
Not needing any convincing from either Ari or Isidor, Alster settled into his chair, closed his eyes again, and traveled to the now-accessible depths of Nia’s resting mind.
He arrived in the open doorway of a well-to-do home, showered in sunlight that poured through the open windows. He squinted through the beams, finding the light a little too saturated and overbright. Stepping through the threshold eased the intensity somewhat, and it was where he found a young, teenaged Nia; lounging on a sofa just shy of the relentless sun.
“Nia,” he ventured, approaching a respectful distance from her at the far edge of the sofa. “Nia!” He firmed his voice, not to yell, but to jolt the idea of drifting to sleep out of her hooded eyes and languid form. As he was dealing with a younger iteration of the Master Alchemist he knew, he correctly assumed that she would have no memory of him.
“You may not know me, but I know you. My name is Alster Rigas, and I’ve come to lead you through this door.” He nodded to the blinding reams of light filtering from the opening to outside. “There’s…” his brow softened at her inquiries, “there’s no one else here, I’m afraid. Just me. But if you agree to follow me, I’ll take you somewhere full of people who eagerly await your arrival. That’s why I’ve been sent here; to take you where you’re needed, and wanted, and loved. If you stay…” he shook his head sadly, “I can’t guarantee anyone else will come for you. You may be safe, but there’s nothing for you here but a vast, unbreakable loneliness. If you don’t want to live such a life on your own, I can change that for you, but it’s either now or never.” He extended his hand, the one rendered of flesh and blood. Warm, supple, supportive, and soft. “I’ll help you escape. Will you come with me?”
After some doubts and deliberation, she finally chose to accept his hand, but just as her claim, her legs gave out as soon as they entered the overpowering sunny patch of the doorway. Even he was not immune to its near-paralyzing effects, but as he had the benefit of being a visitor, he was able to muster his strength, lift her into his arms, and push them both free of the light’s unassailable gravity, pushing and pushing until they separated from its sphere of influence for good.
Ari couldn’t believe what he was seeing. So much so, that he was rendered glued to his bed in shock as Nia winced awake and the others rushed to her side. Nadira positioned her upright on the pillow while Isidor offered her a tin full of restorative tonic. Alster, a little out of sorts from the sudden return journey to full consciousness, slumped forward in his chair, gathering his second wind. With so many people at her side, Ari hesitated to stand, mindful, as always, of her comfort and fearing that crowding her so soon after awakening would only cause her further overwhelm. So he waited for his chance as patiently as he could, but his feet drummed on the floor, all too eager to spring forward and reunite with his lover.
“I suppose I stand corrected then, Master Isidor,” Nadira cleared her throat, but nothing about her mannerisms suggested disappointment at being proven wrong. “An apology or two is in order—and beyond. Far, far beyond. For everything the three of you have accomplished and suffered,” she bowed, her face too hidden to reveal the depth of her expression, but everyone could detect the crack in her usually polished voice, “thank you, from the bottom of my heart. None of this will be forgotten. Consider yourselves forever exalted and honored in the annals of the Canaveris legacy. I do not say this lightly. I welcome you all as family.” Turning to Nia, she broke into a motherly smile. “Welcome back, my dear. We have much to discuss—later, of course. Focus first on being well.”
Ari couldn’t handle his idleness for another second. He finally found his cue as soon as Isidor redirected attention to him. Waiting for his turn long enough, he forced a pathway to Nia’s bedside, for once not caring how rude or uncouth he appeared. “Nia.” He extended his fingers and cupped them around her cheek. “Feel for yourself. My curse is a thing of the past. And it is all thanks to you. I cannot even begin to express…”
His words trailed off when she made mention of seeing a firefly. A curious chill caused his shoulders to shudder reflexively. “You saw a firefly?” At her confirmation, he laughed, and his mirth mixed with the tears swimming in his eyes. A series of coughs punished him for displaying such exuberance too soon, but he gracefully paid the price before continuing. “Nia, a firefly visited me last night. It flew through the window I had opened, and I caught it between my fingers. My wish…it granted my wish. For, the moment after I made it, you stirred in your sleep, and that is how I knew…you would return. And you did. You did.”
Fortunately, Isidor stepped in and kindly informed them to maintain their composure. While the warning was primarily for Nia, Ari benefited from heeding Isidor’s advice, as he was also dangerously on the cusp of another coughing fit. With a compliant nod, he withdrew, albeit with extreme hesitance, his hand from Nia’s cheek, dabbed his eyes with the corners of his sleeve, and offered to dab Nia’s tears with a clean cloth he plucked from the nightstand. “No apologies are necessary, Nia. It is bygones. There is nothing to forgive. Why fixate on such a minor slight when you have performed a miracle to save my life? You are my miracle.” He bent forward and nuzzled her nose with his. “I did not know what I would do if you did not awaken. I love you so dearly. Goodness,” he placed a weary hand over his chest, “never frighten me like that again.”
After Alster took a few moments to recover, he and Isidor departed from the sanctuary, happy to give the trio the space they needed for a proper reunion. For the first time since before his surprise wedding, Alster felt like he could finally breathe again. Well…for the most part. Just one thing niggled at the forefront of his consciousness, and it bothered him enough to give voice to his companion. “You know, it’s strange,” he began as they headed out of the sanctuary, taking the well-worn path that wound back to the palace. “When I was in Nia’s mind, it felt like…someone was there before me. A faint, but distinct energy lingered in the environment, and it almost felt like…summoner magic. But,” to allay any worries, he presented Isidor a dismissive smile, “I suppose this is something we can broach once we deliver Hadwin and Teselin the good news.”
Hadwin awoke later that morning, slumped over a tree, and with Nico looming over him from above.
“…What gives?” Rubbing his eyes, Hadwin looked down at his wardrobe, still attired in the same clothes as last night. Huh. He must have dozed off in the Night Garden for some reason. “You stalking me, kid?”
“No,” he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you forget the appointment you set up for us this morning? Evidently, you did, if you are lounging here in the Night Garden when you told me to knock on your door at the palace.”
“Shit….you’re right. My bad.” Cricking his neck from side to side, he rolled slowly to his feet, noticing that Nia’s concealment cloak was draped across his lap. What did he do last night? Judging by his head, foggy but not afflicted by a telltale headache, he hadn’t been drinking. He vaguely recalled speaking with Rowen, in a rare heartfelt conversation, but that was all he could remember. “Must’ve had restless feet last night. That or I was sleepwalking. So you searched this place far and wide to find me? Awww, well don’t I feel loved!”
An embarrassed blush colored his face a rich russet hue. “I couldn’t very well do this without you, now could I? Not when I am supposed to be clandestine about the whole affair in case I am spotted by a nobleman from the D’Marian village?”
“Ok, ok, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Tossing Nia’s cloak to Nico, he instructed the Canaveris boy to cinch it shut by the throat and lift the hood. “Just follow my lead. I’ll get you an audience with Tes and none will be the wiser.”
But when they arrived at the palace and Hadwin swept into her chambers (he rarely needed an invitation to barge right in), she wasn’t there. The bedsheets lay mussed and crumpled, but he could trace none of the lingering smells to any period longer than several hours.
“Odd.” He closed the door behind him and met up with Nico in the hallway. “She wasn’t there, and according to my nose, she hasn’t been there since early last night.” His frown deepened. Why did he have a feeling that he already knew this information?
Nico, too, tried to school his expression into one of neutrality. “Perhaps she is fetching breakfast for herself? Or taking a stroll in the Night Garden? Or visiting her brothers, or a friend?”
“Dunno; she’s kept to herself lately. Haven’t seen her with anyone else. Lucky for you, if there’s anyone who can sniff out her location, it’s yours truly. Her magic’s so potent, it seeps out of her pores. I can smell her from a mile away.”
Several hours later, and still, they had no luck in finding her. They scoured the palace, the nearby village, and the Night Garden—twice—but nothing of Teselin’s telltale scent could be found anywhere. Hadwin, who before had radiated calm and composite, was growing irritable, a far preferable state of mind than worry—which he also felt in spades.
“Where the hell could she be?! This ain’t like her at all to just…disappear without a word.” He turned a glare to Nico. “And you’re sure you haven’t been able to reach her by resonance stone?”
Nico shook his head sadly. “I have tried five individual times. No luck.”
“Well keep trying!” He barked, clawing a hand through his hair. “Let’s split up. I’ll resume looking in this general area, and you check the D’Marian village. You’ve still got the resonance stone I gave you, so contact me when you’ve got a lead. Got it?”
Before Nico could agree on the plan, Hadwin stormed off, ignoring the exhaustion settling into his bones as he kept searching in vain for the missing Teselin.
He found himself back in the Night Garden when the voices invaded him again.
How do you know this is really happening, Hadwin?
Your senses are becoming more and more unreliable.
You’re dragging that poor kid into your delusions.
Nothing’s wrong here but you.
Hadwin grabbed his ears and suctioned them closed. “Shut up—shut up! I know what I sensed! It’s real. It’s all real!”
The voices teased and tickled his ears despite the hands grappling to silence them.
“How about last night, then? Was that real, too?”
Hadwin blinked. Standing before him was Rowen as she had appeared to him under the moonlight. Ethereal, intact, not a speckle of blood on her tunic. The sun cast dimensions on her cherubic face. If he laid a hand on her, he was sure to feel the solidness and surety of her, just like last night.
But Rowen…she was dead! He had killed her! …Right? That happened, didn’t it?
Releasing one hand from his ear, he moved closer to the image of Rowen, hoping to land a touch as he did the night before and ascertain if she was real, but he faltered when he heard a pair of familiar voices over his shoulder. Looking, he saw Alster and Isidor emerge from around a copse of trees. If anyone could determine if Teselin was missing, it had to be them!
“Sorry, Ro. I’ll be right bac—“ but when he turned to face his sister, she was gone, as if she were never there at all.
“I am not in the goddamn mood to be fucked with today,” he grumbled to himself as he left Rowen’s clearing and marched over to Alster and Isidor. They hailed him, conservative smiles on their faces, and he wondered what had them so damn happy to begin with.
“Hadwin, we were hoping to run into you today,” Alster began. “We have great news to share.”
Maybe they found Teselin. “Go on,” he cocked his head to one side. “I’m listening.”
“Nia woke up today! We didn’t think she would so soon, but I was able to pull her free of her deep unconscious state and…I have a feeling she’s going to be just fine now.”
Hadwin’s brow furrowed. All this seemed familiar to him. As if last night he’d been chasing someone who he suspected would do whatever it took to save Nia. As if he had been chasing…Teselin.
“That’s great news, it really is, and I’m stoked for Nia. I’ll be sure to give her shit in a few days once she’s up for it. But I’ve also got news for you two, and it ain’t the peachy kind. Might be worrying for nothing, but,” he kicked a pebble by his foot, watching it skitter into the forest brush beyond, “I can’t for the life of me find Teselin. I’ve never had any trouble before, never. She’s like a fucking beacon, always within sight, but now, it’s like she…up and poofed from this plane of existence. I only searched the Night Garden, village, and palace grounds, so maybe she’s elsewhere in Galeyn, but,” he shrugged, “I dunno, impossible cases seem to be your strong suit, so maybe you know something I don’t.”
“Wait,” Alster looked incredulously at Hadwin, “she’s missing?! Since when?”
“Since last night, I’d say. I was trailing her…” Yeah, that sounded about right to him, “because I suspected she was up to something. She took Nia’s coma hard, and I knew she wanted to do something about it. But I must’ve lost sight of her. Honestly, it’s all fuzzy to me,” Because none of it happened, one of the voices snapped at him. “But far as I know…she’s gone.”
Even if Teselin were around to be asked, ‘What did you do? And how did you do it?’, she wouldn’t have ever been able to find the words to explain. She hadn’t known what she was doing, wandering into the Night Garden that evening, and wandering away from Locque after absorbing the deceased Gardener’s cryptic advice. She’d received no wise insights from the Sentinel tree; it had remained silent and still in her presence. It wasn’t until that tiny firefly had aligned on her knee to rest a moment that something had suddenly… clicked. ‘Let yourself become what you need to be’, Locque had told her, and she hadn’t understood until she considered that tiny lightning bug, and everything it meant to Nia. Wishes and hope; a reason to keep going, looking to better days. ‘Let go of your expectations,’ Locque had told her. To let go of expectations also meant to let go of control, and Teselin hadn’t realized how much control she had been holding onto, until she mentally released any and all thought of how she would help Nia, and took in the flickering body of that tiny firefly…
She didn’t feel the changes taking place, and wasn’t aware as, bit by bit, atom by atom, her physical body began to disappear and leave behind its current form in order to take the form of that very lightning bug on her knee. It was as seamless and natural as breathing, and as soon as the summoner abandoned and dissolved her human form for that of a tiny insect, everything suddenly became so clear. Shedding all of that human doubt and energy-siphoning overthinking, Teselin knew exactly where she needed to be and what she needed to do.
Taking to the air, the young summoner, with astounding ease, divided herself into two, three, four, more than a dozen little glowing flies darting through the cool night air. The collective consciousness of Teselin Kristeva, no longer a girl but a small army of flying lightning bugs, flew up and up into the sky, until it was no longer the sky; it was no longer even part of the universe into which she had been born. It was, at once, nothingness, and everything, a state of being unreachable even by the likes of a godlike entity such as Alster Rigas, or a conduit of the stars and traveler between realms like Tivia Rigas. Teselin bent the fabric of her very being to transcend this world entirely, and make her way to Nia, who was nowhere to be found by human means.
The nothingness and the everything bent around her, shifting from black and white obscurity to shapes and shades and light. A house appeared on an otherwise empty, dark, colorless horizon, alit from the inside through the windows. And through the many, many eyes of the cluster of fireflies that was now Teselin Kristeva, the image of a teen girl could be seen through the glass. That girl… that was the girl who needed her. She had to get her attention.
In a cluster of flickering lights, the swarm of fireflies approached the window, blinking their lights at a rapid pace to catch young Nia’s eye. And it worked: the young and budding Master Alchemist’s eyes widened, and she hesitantly moved across the room, toward the window. Open the door, the little lightning bugs tried to convey through their fluttering and their blinking. They were mere insects, and couldn’t interact with the house as she could. No one could open the door but Nia; it was up to her to feel inspired enough to fight the fatigue and let them in. Open the door; you can do it!
The young teen struggled with the handle, like it was stuck fast, and with her already waning strength having approached the door, for a moment it looked as though she wouldn’t be successful. But with a burst of what must have been sheer willpower, the heavy door wrenched open, and like a vacuum, sucked the darkness out of the house’s surrounding area. Where night once engulfed this colourless landscape, light had taken its place; and where there was light, there was no need for the flickering of little fireflies. They had done what they had come to do: they’d gotten young Nia’s attention, and stirred her enough to open the door that was keeping her prisoner in her own mind.
With no place in the depths of Nia Ardane’s most profound subconscious anymore, the collective of Teselin Kristeva faded from that landscape, and manifested once again in the Night Garden. Once again, the small swarm of fireflies was spotted from a window by an intensely interested onlooker inside the sanctuary. This individual had no difficulty opening the window to let one of the many pieces of Teselin Kristeva inside. It buzzed circles around the dark-haired individual before alighting upon his palm. He closed his fingers around it and uttered something of a prayer, a wish, before letting the little bug fly away. For whatever reason, he’d needed to see it as much as the young girl trapped in her own house, in her own mind; and he had yet to realize that his wish had been granted before he had even asked.
Retracting its flight path back out the window, the firefly joined the rest of its collective self, and then, just like before, began to disappear, piece by piece. Just as there was no need nor use for the girl named Teselin Kristeva, the fireflies had served their purpose… and as such, they began to disappear, piece by piece. But while Teselin had managed to seize her magic such that she had become what she needed to be in order to save Nia, she had no concept as to how to put herself back together into the girl she once was. The pieces of her, once a girl, and then fireflies, drifted away onto the air and mingled with the trees, carried on the gentle evening wind. She became part of that wind, part of the trees, part of the buttercups in the field from the day she and Nico had spent together.
Teselin Kristeva as everyone knew her wasn’t there, anymore; but neither was she gone.
This was… real. There was no reason not to believe it: Nia had to be awake. Never in even her wildest dreams had she experienced this sort of heaviness in her body, the ache in her head… that brand of misery didn’t exist in dreams. That was the reason why she believed what she saw, heard, and felt when Ari laid his hand upon her cheek. It was real, but then, the horrifying possibility that she had woken up in yet another dimension where she didn’t belong crossed her mind. Was this even her Ari at all? But when she took a moment to register her surroundings, and saw that the Alster, Isidor, and Ari in her company all appeared very familiar to her in their dispositions. But she had been fooled before…
“...where’s Teselin?” She asked, temporarily diverting her attention from Ari. The last time she had awoken to an Ari who was free of his curse… the young summoner had long since no longer existed in that world.
Isidor exchanged a confused glance with Alster. “I can’t say exactly… she has been spending a good deal of time to herself a lot since you saved her life.” He explained slowly, concerned for her cognitive faculties. “Did you want to see her…?”
“No… no, it’s fine.” Nia expelled a sigh of relief. These events checked out: the Teselin she knew had nearly died as a result of suppressing her magic with Mollengardian enchanted steel. This was her reality, after all. "It's fine. I just… wanted to make sure…" Her gaze shifted back to Ari, full of relief and love. "This is real."
Isidor understood then: the last time she had found Ari void of his curse, it had been in a place where she didn't belong. Such was not the case this time. The youngest Kristeva brother offered a small smile. "It's real… and you belong here. You made the future that you wanted happen, Nia. Excuse us," he said as he made for the door, "And please don't hesitate to call on us if you need anything. I'm not known to sleep much, afterall. See to it you finish that tonic before you sleep again, Nia. Or rather, I trust Ari will see to it."
"I don't need a minder, Master Kristeva." Nia pouted, but her frown was quick to soften when she turned back to Ari. "But if anyone has to get on my case about following your orders… I'd prefer it to be Lord Canaveris. Sorry for frightening you; you can yell at me as much as you want. I already feel it’s been too long since I heard your voice… I guess fireflies really do grant wishes." Tears gathered in the Ardane woman’s eyes; and that was reason enough for anyone currently not recuperating in the sanctuary to give her some space.
As Isidor and Alster took their leave (just moments after Nia’s awakening and the atmosphere had already become too intimate between her and Ari), the first thing the Rigas mage chose to share with his friend rather startled him. “Someone was… You think someone managed to access Nia’s mind before you?” That was all kinds of confusing for a myriad of reasons, particularly when three incredibly capable people from different disciplines could not reach the Ardane alchemist until just now. Isidor had really thought that the change had come from inside of Nia; after all, the Ardane woman’s willpower was to be reckoned with. “But Alster, who else could possibly have reached her? Do you think, perhaps… Locque reached out to her through the realms of death?” It was no secret among their close-knit circle that whisperings of a certain ghost of a Gardener had been known to wander the Night Garden in the throes of darkness, helping whomever she was able to; a much more honourable being in death than she was in life. And Nia had been loyal to her, even at her worst. Perhaps it wasn’t so ludicrous to consider that her spirit, aware of the Master Alchemist’s condition, sought to help her as a final act of goodwill to the woman who had once served her…?
Either way, Alster did not seem particularly concerned, considering that in the end, Nia was awake; and that was all that mattered. The best case scenario was that everyone beat the odds and made it out alive, and that was exactly what had happened. Alster was right: they should spread the good news, particularly to Hadwin and Teselin. The former was a good friend of Nia’s, and Teselin had felt particularly indebted to the Ardane woman since she saved her life.
As luck would have it, it wasn’t long before they crossed paths with one of the two individuals they sought. Funny that Hadwin was alone, without the young summoner on his heels, but Isidor was well aware it had been harder and harder to get Teselin to leave her room lately, even with her favourite companion. He didn’t think much of her absence until Alster delivered the good news to the faoladh, and his expression was… well, much less than he’d expected. In fact, Isidor felt that he rather bordered on disappointed. As if this weren’t some of the best possible news to come out of this kingdom right now.
“Is… something that matter, Hadwin?” Isidor wasn’t fond of the man for what he’d done to him; that was something that would forever be difficult to forgive. But he was good to Teselin: he gave her hope in a way that no one else could. Not even her own brothers.
And that was precisely the problem, it seemed: that the person closest to Teselin had… completely lost track of her.
“Wait… wait a moment. Aren’t we overreacting with so little information upon which to overreact?” Isidor furrowed his brows and lifted his hands, looking between Hadwin and Alster. “Is someone really missing just because we haven’t seen them since last night? Let us think logically for a moment. Hadwin, you just admitted that you haven’t scoured the entire kingdom, and my sister has been known to disappear from time to time when she wants to be alone. Considering she hasn’t had it so easy of late… this doesn’t strike me as out of the ordinary.”
If even level-headed Alster was so easily swayed by the term ‘missing’, even if it wasn’t quite appropriate to apply that term as of yet, the Master Alchemist couldn’t help but try and be that single voice of an alternate opinion. Perhaps not a voice of reason, necessarily, but another point of view. “So you say she isn’t in the Night Garden, the palace, or the village? Then let’s search elsewhere. Those are all places occupied by other people: maybe she settled elsewhere because she wants to be out of sight. Who knows--it’s possible she even found a way to conceal her magical fingerprint, knowing you’re so attuned to it. I’m not saying you’re wrong to go searching for her, just that… it may be too early to panic, don’t you think?
“How about this.” He adjusted his spectacles on his face and pointed eastward, towards the path that led back to the palace. “Let’s inform Queen Lilica and the Dawn Guard and arrange a proper search party. Teselin may not be happy about this, but given her rather fragile mental and emotional conditions of late… I agree that finding her is necessary. Even if she doesn’t want to be found. Let’s go right now--and Hadwin, perhaps you can speak to your sister and Sigrid Sorenson. They both have a knack for tracking and hunting, do they not?”
With the inklings of a plan fleshed out, Hadwin set off to find Bronwyn and Sigrid, while Alster and Isidor continued on their way back to the palace to make Lilica aware of the situation. Considering that she, Isidor and Teselin shared a vague family relation through Vitali, she of course agreed to alert the guards patrolling the borders of Galeyn, and to send other guards in search of the young summoner. Unless Teselin somehow managed to slip past the sentries at each of the kingdom’s gates with her magic (and the Galeynian sentries were equipped with tools that could detect magic), the summoner had to be somewhere in Galeyn. Even in her emotionally despondent state, it was not her style to up and leave everyone who cared about her. “I think news of Nia and Ari both awake and well is exactly what she needs to feel a bit better,” Isidor said to Alster just as they left the council chamber that afternoon. “She cares so deeply about others, doesn’t she? Often her mood directly correlates to how those around her are feeling. It has been some time since she heard some good news; no wonder she has been down.”
He and Alster parted ways then so that the Rigas mage could return to his wife and impart the good news. They’d agreed there was no reason for either of them to become involved in the search party just yet, especially when they were still on the tired side from being involved in Nia’s procedure. Isidor spent a good part of the day concocting some more tonics for the Ardane woman to assist in her recovery, but as the sun began to set that evening, he felt the need to stretch his legs and go for a walk before nightfall. Perhaps he was the foolish one, in denial that Teselin’s disappearance could mean a very serious problem, but he had an inexplicable inkling that she wasn’t far; she simply didn’t want to be found.
As he strolled through a field of flowers not far from the palace, enjoying the fall temperatures through his tunic which was better suited to winter, something suddenly caused him to pause in step as a breeze wafted past his face. Something felt… familiar. Not like a scent, but a presence, one that he’d felt numerous times before and was very unique to a single person. Could it be… “I knew it!” Isidor sighed and smiled, and turned tail to head straight to the palace. He arrived just in time to be called on by the serving staff, notifying him that he was wanted in the council chamber. Perfect: that was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Your Majesty,” He pushed through the doors with such excitement that he forgot to bow. “I…”
His smile did not last, looking upon a room full of regretful faces, Queen Lilica’s and Chara Rigas’s included. “Isidor,” Lilica began, her brow creased in the middle with concern and her voice soft, “I wish this is not the information that I must impart, but… after a thorough investigation of Galeyn, from corner to corner, it is my duty to inform you--regretfully--that we found no trace of your sister. I’m sorry.” The Galeynian Queen sighed, and took a seat from where she was standing at the head of the table. “We can only conclude that she has left Galeyn. Of course, we are open to making inquiries in Braighdath and surrounding areas…”
“But… but, your Majesty, that isn’t possible.” Isidor stepped forward, uncharacteristically putting himself in direct sight of Alster, Hadwin, Sigrid and Bronwyn, and everyone else in the room. Something he wouldn’t dare have done were he not sure of himself. “Not far from the palace, I… I felt her. I’m not talking some vague psychic inclination: I felt her the same way I do when I touch her. And there is only one person with an existential fingerprint both so close and yet so far from humanity as her own. And, please understand, I am not in any way like the faoladh who can smell someone hours after they crossed a path, or like a Rigas who can detect the remnants of magical activity after it has already come to pass. I can only be attuned to what currently is, and to feel Teselin’s presence so acutely in the fields just beyond this palace… she must have been there, at that very stop, very recently. Perhaps just moments before I wandered into it myself. Teselin,” the Master Alchemist removed his glasses and clutched the rims at his side. “Teselin is still here!”
“I’m not panicking.” Taking affront to Isidor’s phrasing, Hadwin shifted on one foot and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who do you think I am, Dorio?! Just figured I’d put you in the know while I’ve got you there. What, would you have preferred it if I said nothing; let a few more days tick by before announcing my findings? Call me hasty all you like, but I’ve always been able to find her. This is the longest I’ve gone without having a sprig of luck on my side. My senses have never been wrong before, ok? Never.” Sounding more defensive—and thus, panicky—than he would have preferred, he sighed and backed a few steps away from Isidor and Alster, to whom he had gotten uncomfortably close. “I’m not looking to jump to conclusions here, but this doesn’t sit right with me. Take it from someone who knows her a bit better than you do, Hermit Crab. Something’s off; call it instinct, but this ain’t ordinary.”
“I understand, Hadwin.” Seeing the merit in humoring the on-edge faoladh, but preferring not to stand between him and Isidor as a protective shield against the former’s self-denial spiral, Alster presented a firm, compliant nod. “And I feel the same way. It’s off to me, as well—but we have to go through the proper avenues, first. Do things logically and one step at a time, as Isidor suggests. We’ll inform Queen Lilica, and I’m sure even Commander Sorde can lend his Forbanne for the task as well. In the meantime, see if you can recruit Bronwyn and Sigrid. I’m sure they’ll be happy to help.”
Although he mainly repeated Isidor’s strategy, Hadwin, perhaps through hearing it a second time and from a different voice, finally dipped his head in agreement and ran off without another word to collect the requested components for their search party.
“I’m worried about him,” he said to Isidor once Hadwin was out of sight, and out of earshot. “Since Rowen’s death, he’s been all but glued to Teselin’s side. I don’t think he knows what to do without her. We’ll need people to keep an eye on him; I don’t think he’s doing well.”
The remains of the day swept by in a blur for those in active search of Teselin Kristeva. The Queen lent her guard, as did Commander Sorde, and Hadwin recruited both Bronwyn and Sigrid for the task at hand. But even with their specialized task force, all they gleaned was that the young summoner might remain within Galeyn’s borders. Bone-weary and dejected, the ever-garrulous Hadwin could only manage a nod at Queen Lilica’s report as all involved and concerned parties gathered at the council chambers to discuss their losses and gains. While only those seated closest to the faoladh could see, his haunted eyes seemed to replay the death of his late sister all over again, and no one could seem to snap him out of it.
Except for one person, who arrived late with…hopeful yet unnerving news to spare. Teselin is still here! Those three victorious words were enough to pluck Hadwin from his chair, half-slumping, and look to Isidor, his expression both puzzled, yet intrigued. A flash of life and lucidity returned to his presence. “My searches kept bringing me back to that area for some reason, but I could never figure out why. So what are you saying then? She turned into the wind? How do we get her to turn back?”
“Something like that.” Hadwin blinked and another figure materialized in front of everyone, sharing the same vicinity as Isidor. Tivia Rigas made herself known and visible to the council, unapologetic about her late and unexpected, uninvited visit. Demurely, she slid a few steps away from Isidor, mindful of their proximity, before continuing. “She is the reason Nia Ardane found the doorway to her awakening, but doing so cost Teselin her corporeal form—temporarily, at least. Isidor is absolutely correct,” she gestured at the Master Alchemist, happy to shower him with credit and praise, but too shy to look him in the eye. Or to look his way at all. “Teselin is a currently a collective, like dandelion spores floating in the wind. She is vast and she is dispersed. Her energy is scattered, strewn all about the area.”
Alster flew to his feet, his chair protesting as it honked across the floor. “So then she’ll need help. I came apart like she did once, all across space and time, and it took Elespeth dy—“ he bit his tongue and refused to finish the statement, “and you, Tivia, you lost your hearing to tether me back to this plane of existence. I know it’s not the same, but if we could somehow wrangle her energy by creating a vortex of sorts and funneling it all together, then—“
Tivia held out a hand before he could finish. “I’m going to stop you there, Alster. She has to do this on her own. Too much interference, too much of everyone else’s magic, is going to muddy and possibly complicate her reconstitution process. At best, she’ll end up absorbing your magical entrapments and rendering them ineffective. At worst, it will prolong and frustrate the process for her. Just give her time. She needs time. It’s a simple solution, but also a difficult one, because I’m proposing we do nothing.”
Hadwin, bristling at the mere suggestion, also shot to his feet. “You can’t be serious! C’mon, this is bullshit. Do nothing!? And for how long are you talking here?”
Tivia turned her luminous eye on Hadwin and shrugged. “I can’t give you any absolutes, Kavanagh. Just know that your odds improve if you give her the space she needs to return. This process can’t be rushed or expedited.”
The faoladh did not like this response, his hand slowly curling into a tight fist. “So she has to figure it all out, by herself, alone and isolated for fuck knows how long?! And there’s absolutely fuck all anyone else can do for her? Not even you?” He grinned, but it stretched like a grimace and bore a skeletal quality that belied its initial warmth. “For someone who seems to know everything, you sure as hell can’t do shit, huh? What’s the damn point of you then? Just to make us all feel idiotic and useless as you come in at the the last fucking minute to school us on what we should have been doing right after we’ve put in all the damn legwork?! By all means, just swoop in and disregard us all peasants!”
Before anyone else could step in and mitigate Hadwin’s shouting volume, he was already marching for the exit. “Do whatever the hell you like. I don’t give a shit,” and slammed the doors behind him. Bronwyn and Sigrid weren’t far behind in pursuit, so on that front, at least the volatile faoladh wouldn’t be tearing up all of Galeyn on his own.
Amid the awkward, ensuing silence, a snort of something approaching a laugh escaped from Tivia’s lips, although her expression remained humorless. “That’s the ongoing curse of the messenger, isn’t it? You’re free to heed my council or discard it. After all, I wouldn’t want to make anyone feel useless or foolish.”
Hadwin knew he’d have an entourage upon him in moments. Bronwyn and her blonde shadow were sure to follow from the council chambers and that it only gave him an inkling of a second to decide his next course of action. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, fed up with reality, or what masqueraded as reality nowadays. Dipping into a small, abandoned alcove, he slipped through the open window at the end of the hallway and rolled outside, breaking his fall into a leafy bush. Gathering himself, he ran for the Night Garden, but it wouldn’t be his final destination. Stumbling into the clearing that acted as his temporary hideout, he grabbed Nia’s cloak, his pipe and tinderbox, and a few Night Garden-grade herbs he learned would mask his smell. Spreading open the leaves, he rubbed their neutralizing odor all over his clothes, his underarms, his extremities, his hair, and flung Nia’s concealment cloak over his shoulders, flipping up the hood.
He left the boundaries of the Night Garden by way of the stream, wading through the waist high water to further mask his scent and remove the imprint of his footfalls on the dirt. For hours he bobbed by way of the water route until the chill finally got to him and he climbed out, shaking his drenched trouser legs and emptying his boots of excess water.
It was still full dark by the time he switched to pure foot travel. He could have stopped there for the evening and wanted to, half-drenched and his energy depleted to cinders. But something was pushing him forward. A force. A compulsion that he had long-denied to resolve. Now that Teselin was gone and helping her return would make things worse for her, as they always fucking did whenever he was involved, it was about time he addressed another issue, one that never ceased to haunt his every waking moment.
Two hours later, he reached the glade at the edge of the Galeynian border. The sight of the battle. Nay—massacre. Rowen met her end here by the most violent methods imaginable. No less than what she deserved, some would claim, but would they change their minds had they carried out the sentence, instead? And would they do so by such sloppy means?
Face it, Hadwin. You enjoyed tearing me apart. You took a morbid pleasure in taking my still-beating heart and juicing it like an orange. For as much as you claim to love me…you have a funny way of showing me mercy.
Rowen’s undying signature smothered the glade. It dangled above him, manifesting as low-arched branches, as butterfly-shaped leaves mocking him with hisses on the breeze. He smelled the heaviness of her blood, more a memory than a remainder. In the months since her passing, rainstorms had rinsed away the stains, and animals snatched the remnants of her left behind organs. Nothing here existed as Rowen Kavanagh, and yet…he never felt her presence beat stronger. The pulse filled, flooded her ears with its verve and vitality. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
“I knew it!” He ducked under the low-hanging limbs and relished in the spot, the very spot, where he’d slaughtered his sister. “You’re not dead! Like with Tes, the same fucking thing happened to you. Your energies dispersed, got kicked around. You might not have a body anymore, but you’re still here.”
“How astute of you, Hadwin, to finally understand. You dolt, you nitwit. Stupidest fucking man alive.” The voice came from nowhere. It came from everywhere. It sang in his bones, vibrating them like tuning forks all calibrated to the same pitch, the same frequency.
“So I assume your plan’s the same, then? Here to torture me until I beg for death or some shit, and then we melt together into hell?” It was hard to utter those words without shivering. Galeyn was still amid the heights of summer, but the stream he’d traversed for hours was chilly in temperature, and he didn’t have a fresh, dry pair of trousers to trade into, or the time to set up a campfire. “You know, that sounds pretty damn cozy right about now.”
The branches of the trees formed a faint, shadowy outline in the dark as a quick spark of fire appeared in Hadwin’s pipe bowl, then smoldered to smoke. He tasted the familiar, Night Garden herbs on his tongue, then blew them towards the entity that inhabited the glade. His sister—alive. Alive, alive, alive, and bitter and vengeful as ever. “Fuck, Rowen, there’s nothing left of me. All else I have, I’ve given to Tes,” he continued, his attention on the flickering shadows on the trees. “What more do you want?”
Something else in the glade had flickered, but it caught in his periphery and when he turned to look, it was gone. A firefly? An animal, stalking and watching? Rowen as a wolf? A will o’ the wisp, eager to usher in his doom?
Rubbing his eyes, a greater confusion began to take hold. Where was Rowen? He was speaking to her but now…he couldn’t be quite sure they had engaged in conversation at all. He glanced down at his sodden trousers. The stream. The same stream, he recalled, that transported Nia back and forth to a different world. Was he in a different world now? One where Rowen had lived? Was she always alive? But wasn’t she dead?
You can’t trust your senses, a panoply of voices assaulted his ears like a chorus of buzzing mosquitoes.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
Your entire world’s all gobbledegook. How could you just accept a single thing you see? What world are you in, Hadwin? Are you sure Rowen is alive, or if it’s you who died?
The shadows backlit from his pipe grew larger, escaping their mortal receptacles and clawing the sky. The shadows whirled about him in an ever-tightening circle, angling their impossible claws at his arms, hoping to unmask his disguise and nick and tear him into nothing.
Are you real?
Is this real?
What’s real?
Can you answer the question?
Can you?
Can you?
CaN YOU??
“Will you shut the fuck up already?!” He roared and launched at the shadows, at the trees. They phased through him, laughing uproariously in his ears as he ran his fists at the tree trunks he targeted as his shadowy adversaries, beating the hardwood until his knuckles popped and blistered open and bloody.
Something sparked at Hadwin’s feet. His pipe, which he must have dropped from the one-sided tussle, caught on a leaf and formed a small but robust, tongued flame. Watching it wave, expand, and warm his heaving fingers gave him an idea.
“You say nothing’s real, but I have a surefire way to cut through the bullshit.” Withdrawing his tinderbox, he struck the side with flint and covered the forest deadfall in a shower of flammable sparks. “If I’m real, I’ll burn alone. If we’re real, we’ll burn together. And if Rowen’s alive,” he struck the tinderbox and sent a secondary shower over the ground, “then you’ll be coming with me too. If this is the seat of your power, then I’ve got you where you‘re sitting.” Several flicks of the tinderbox were all that it took to erupt the parched ground, bereft of water for weeks during the hottest, dryest phase of the season, into a small inferno. Errant flames clung to the low-hanging branches of the closely-nestled trees and pulled themselves upright like garden snakes, immolating and decimating the butterfly leaf populations with every lashing, lazy strike of their ethereal bodies and vibrant forked tongues. With each successful meal, the snakes multiplied, forming a knot of writhing, flailing, menacing beasts, and it was their hungry, pinioned mouths that replaced the clawing shadows in the sky.
In the middle of the growing conflagration, Hadwin stood, drawing his head to the sky and unleashing his most delighted, most unhinged laugh.
“I’ll see you in hell.”
“Hasn’t he always been terribly unhinged?” Isidor breathed as they parted ways with Hadwin. His tolerance of the faoladh had not improved much at all over time, despite the soft spot the wolf man had for his sister, and that Teselin cared for him deeply. “If Teselin weren’t as attached to him as she already is, I would encourage her to find better company. But at this point… that would be damaging to both of them. I will give him credit for showing concern at my sister’s current absence, and maybe he does know her better than I do. But she hasn’t been in a good way, and maybe… she needs a break from him.”
At the back of his mind, the Master Alchemist couldn’t help but wonder if that really was the case behind Teselin ‘disappearing’ without leaving a trail for her trusted wolf friend: maybe she needed time away from those with whom she currently surrounded herself… namely, Hadwin Kavanagh. But he couldn’t possibly voice that aloud to the faoladh, and perhaps, Teselin herself didn't wholly realize that she required the absence of certain chaotic forces to feel better again. Perhaps completely contrary to Isidor’s character, he didn’t feel particularly worried about his sister, and part of him had expected her to withdraw at some point in time. Wasn’t that normal behaviour when someone was feeling down? Or perhaps he was still just riding the high
It wasn’t until the day dragged on, and there was still no sign of Teselin, that his optimism began to wane: only to temporarily lift again when he felt her presence outside, and rushed into the palace to impart the good news. At least, he had thought he would be bringing good news, and the arrival of the infamous star seer would further confirm that he was not entirely wrong… But the reality of the situation, if Tivia was right (and no one in the room doubted her understanding of what had really happened to Teselin Kristeva), was not nearly as positive as he had thought.
“A… collective? Scattered?” Isidor repeated Tivia’s words slowly to allow them to sink in. It didn’t seem real: it had to be a misunderstanding, but… the star seer did not impart misunderstandings. She never so much as spoke, let alone showed herself, until she knew something of the utmost certainty, not one to ever pass on falsehoods. Just because he couldn’t wrap his head around it didn’t mean it wasn’t possible or it wasn’t so. “What… do you mean? It isn’t… That doesn’t make sense.”
The Master Alchemist took a breath to steady himself, suddenly feeling sparkles and stars in his peripheral vision as the blood quickly drained from his face and settled in his feet. Someone must have noticed that he looked about ready to faint, as a hand on his shoulder gently bade him to sit down. It felt like Elespeth, but he did not look away from Tivia to check. “How… long?” The voice beside him did in fact belong to Elespeth. “I mean, how long do you feasibly believe we must wait for Teselin to just come back together on her own, Tivia? A Rigas lifetime is extensive, but not infinite, and so many others…” Alster’s wife trailed off, reconsidering what she was about to say, but the message was clear: Vitali aside, the people who perhaps mattered to Teselin the most--Isidor and Hadwin--did not have an eternity to wait to her to put the infinitesimal pieces of herself back together. Instead of voicing what everyone knew she was insinuating, she went on to ask, “You’re sure there is nothing we should do to try and expedite this process?”
Everyone knew the answer, though. Teselin was not dead; in fact, it did not sound as if she was even hurt or in pain. She just… was. An existence on the wind that once had a body. A body she’d sacrificed, all to awaken Nia, to prevent this kingdom and its people from experiencing yet another heartbreaking tragedy…
Ididor needn’t express his shock and frustration at this difficult revelation; Hadwin did an excellent job doing that for the both of them. For all he couldn’t stand the faoladh and could never forgive him for what he’d done to him on a whim, at that moment, he fully understood his outburst, and was frankly happy that someone had it in them to be openly angry and distraught. The sound of the door slamming behind him wasn’t even as loud as the sound of Isidor’s heart beating in his chest, through.
“Of course we will heed your council, Tivia.” Lilica spoke up after Sigrid and Bronwyn made it clear that they would keep an eye on Hadwin to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. All who remained in the council chamber did not opt to protest the star seer’s suggestion. “You have no reason to lead us astray, and this was not your doing. If your insights are accurate… It appears that Teselin made a decision that we cannot reverse. If interfering will not benefit her or expedite her return…”
“Wait. Wait, so… we are all just so willing to… accept this? That there is nothing that anyone can do?” Isidor hadn’t planned on saying anything more until a woman who was connected to Teselin through a mutual brother effectively decided that no one would act. “We’re not even going to try? Why? Because it’s easier to have another summoner effectively nullified in terms of being a threat?”
Elespeth winced at the bite in Isidor’s words, and offered from where she sat next to her husband, “Isidor, I highly doubt that is what Queen Lilica is implying…”
“But I’m not wrong, am I? Everyone has been silently stewing on how to deal with Teselin as a liability, especially since the masquerade. To the point where Ari banned her presence from the D’Marian village…” His face began to grow hot with the magnitude of his words. “To the point where she became so hyper aware that she was feared, she nearly died trying to subdue her magic.”
It was at this point that Lilica stood from her seat and raised on hand, fearing that things were about to get out of control--moreso than they already were. “Isidor… do not think it is beyond my awareness how much this affects you. Teselin is your family…” Her dark gaze softened and she dropped her hand. “No one here wishes any harm on her. We all want nothing but the best for her, and if Tivia is convinced that the best for her right now is to give her time to exist in the way that she has chosen--”
“Chosen? How do we know she chose this?” The Master Alchemist snapped. His voice echoed off the walls of the council chamber, and he could feel his blood pressure rising. “She did what she had to because she wanted to help Nia--not because she wanted to disengage from her body entirely! How do we know she isn’t floating around aimlessly, with every miniscule part of her yearning for a way back?! Tell me.”
This time--for the first time since she has returned--Isidor turned to Tivia. Did not shy away, but really looked at her with intent… and pain. “You have answers for everything. You’ve done the impossible. And you really mean to tell us… to tell me that nothing can be done for my sister? My family?” Isidor swiped the spectacles from his eyes and gripped them in his hand so hard the frame bent. “So that’s it. I’ve let you down so irrevocably that you shrug me and my only deserving family off as a lost cause. So be it.”
Discarding his spectacles in an unceremonious twist of glass and wire on the floor, Isidor turned away from the room of people that had pledged to do the only thing they could for his sister: nothing. “You’re all free to do nothing in hopes that Teselin manifests at some point in a normal mortal’s lifetime. I don’t have that kind of time. And I won’t standby and assume she doesn’t want help.”
The Kristeva Alchemist took his leave without another word, storming into the corridor with his heart and mind racing. Teselin wasn’t dead: but wouldn’t it even be easier if she was? No one had any inkling as to how to put the pieces of her back together in a meaningful way, but if her spirit was trapped, he could create a body, and Vitali could…
That was when it occurred to him: Vitali hadn’t been there, in the council chamber. He hadn’t seen his half-brother since he and Alster had asked him to see if there was anything he could do for Nia, on the condition that he no longer be held at the palace as a prisoner. Was he even aware of what was happening? Did he know that Teselin was… gone? Or, in his opinion, worse than gone?
Without knowing if the lich necromancer was even staying in the same room any longer, considering how sick he had grown of those four walls, Isidor rushed down the hall and turned several corners until he reached what he hoped was still Vitali’s chambers, and fervently knocked on the door. “Vitali. If you’re there, we need to talk. I don’t know what you’ve heard since this morning, but I… need your help. Teselin needs our help.”
He expected the room to be empty, and for the lich to smugly sidle up behind him like he was wont to do. To Isidor’s surprise, this time, the door did open, and his older brother appeared in the doorway like any ordinary person. As usual, his expression was impossible to read, yet he appeared neither surprised nor apprised of the situation. Loathe as he was to ask Vitali for help again so soon, now was not the time for pride to get in the way. “Teselin--”
“Rest assured, I have not chosen to live under a rock with my newfound freedom, little brother.” The necromancer leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed. “It isn’t like this palace keeps secrets well.”
“Then help me.” The desperation in his voice was embarrassing… but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. “Help me help Teselin. She’s alive--”
“Allow me to stop you there, Isidor. Are you aware of your own words? Say them again, and then consider whether you think I can be useful at all in your futile endeavour.”
Of course, this had crossed Isidor’s mind: Teselin wasn’t dead. What good could a necromancer and spiritual medium do if she was neither dead nor a spirit? “...I have no one else to turn to.” His voice transformed into a sharp whisper. “Everyone has… given up. Because Tivia told them to!”
“If Tivia Rigas has advised everyone not to act, then I would heed her advice. No one would have deeper insight into what has become of our sister than a star seer.”
“You… no. No, fuck that. Fuck you.” The Master Alchemist’s hands, clenched into fists, trembled. He was seeing, hearing, and tasting red in light of Vitali’s nonchalance regarding Teselin’s tragic situation. “You cannot die because you technically aren’t even fuckng alive by normal standards. I’m not like you… and I refuse to never see her again! I still have a promise to keep!”
His body must have projected violence, because Vitali was quick to hold up a hand and state loudly, for all within the vicinity to hear, “If you choose to throw punches, I’m going to defend myself. You’ll get hurt.”
The calmness of his brother’s voice caused something to snap. How could he claim to care about their sister and then just stand here and tell him he chose not to act?! So Isidor did, in fact, take a swing at Vitali. His punch only made contact with the necromancer’s open hand, but he was satisfied enough when he brought up his knee and collided with the lich’s ribs. But that was where the satisfaction began and ended, for in one swift motion, Vitali seized his wrist and twisted, sharp, at an angle. The resounding snap was almost as audible as Isidor’s cry of pain as he withdrew, trembling and cradling his very broken wrist to his chest.
“I told you, you’ll get hurt.” Vitali sighed in a way that suggested disappointment, not victory. “I have to take care of this new body of mine; and you should spare a thought for yours as well, considering your mortality.”
Isidor’s outburst had drawn some attention in the vast corridor, including that of Alster and Elespeth, who had run out after the Master Alchemist’s emotional departure. “Isidor…” The former knight’s voice was saturated with sympathy. She tried to touch his shoulder, but he flinched and pushed her away.
“Don’t! Don’t stand there and pretend to be a friend to me when my only meaningful family is scattered across the air like ashes, and you have agreed to do nothing!” He hissed and spun around, glowering at all concerned onlookers. “I knew I should have left this place eons ago. I should have taken her with me. She’d have been safe in Nairit. Stay away, all of you!”
Turning on his heel, still cradling his broken wrist, Isidor retreated and disappeared, his anger and pain trailing him like Lilica’s fire had when she’d attempted to burn down the sentinel tree in the Night Garden. “For what it is worth,” Vitali spoke up, finally removing himself from the doorframe and stepping out into the corridor, “You’ll find no judgment from me. I, of course, trust Tivia’s insights implicitly. But… I suppose we cannot blame Isidor for his reaction. After all, the truth is often unpalatable.”
Bronwyn and Sigrid knew better than to let Hadwin stew in his own thoughts for too long, and even when they lost him almost as soon as they’d made chase, they did not stop searching for him throughout the day. They even enlisted help from Haraldur and the Forbanne, knowing how unstable the faoladh was on a good day, let alone when he was experiencing grief. Even with Bronwyn’s keen sense of smell, they struggled to pick up any trace of her brother, and ultimately had to rely on where they assumed he might go under such circumstances.
Of course, it didn’t take Bronwyn long to deduce exactly where Hadwin went whenever his mental health was in crisis: and that was the site of Rowen’s death.
When Sigrid and Bronwyn, trailed by a handful of Forbanne, finally arrived late that evening, they were not in time; but, neither were they too late. Without giving too much time to thought, Sigrid dodged the ever growing snakes of flames in the brush, and grabbed Hadwin by the arms, hauling him out of harm’s way save for some singed clothing and perhaps superficial burns, leaving the Forbanne and nearby Gardeners to tend to the fire before it devastated the still-healing Night Garden.
“What the fuck do ytou think you’re doing? Have you really given up? Is that it--have you given up on Teselin?” Sigrid demanded, gripping the grieving man firmly by the arms. “Don’t think for a fucking moment that I don’t know what loss is like. But this isn’t loss, because Teselin is not dead. She is still here, and knowing what I do of that girl, I am beyond convinced that she has every intention to come back when the time is right! So what do you want to leave for her when she returns, Kavanagh? A charred garden? Your charred remains?! Did you stop to think what that would do to her?” She wasn’t sure if her words were making any impact, but if anything could get through to Hadwin in his madness, it was Teselin--and the promise he had made to her. “Didn’t you make a promise to her? Bronwyn told me. That you promised her no more self destruction. Are you so willing to break that promise because Teselin currently assumes a form that doesn’t agree with you? Look around, Hadwin--she is everywhere! I’m willing to bet she sees and hears and knows everything you’re doing. And I know… I know that the last thing you want to do is to hurt her. So stop it with this bullshit, and give her a reason to want to come back.”
Everyone present in the council chambers expected Hadwin to pitch a fit and smash the doors closed as he stomped off, fury and defeat in his eyes. The faoladh had all but proclaimed, through repeated actions and behaviors, how deeply he cherished Teselin Kristeva to the point where he and the summoner seemed to have developed a bond as strong as siblings—however much the comparison might leave a bad taste in Isidor’s mouth. Hadwin wouldn’t deny it either, especially when his desperation for a surrogate younger sister drove many of his motivations from the moment Alster first met him up to now. The devastating news of Teselin’s literal disappearance and dissemination would break the wolf-man, Alster ventured, into smithereens, if nothing was done to mitigate his self-destructive spiral to oblivion. For that reason, Alster kept his eyes on the still-rattling doors, followed the trajectory of Bronwyn and Sigrid as they exited, assured in their quest to fetch him, and hadn’t paid attention to Isidor until the man spoke loudly of his distress. Snapping his focus back to the front of the room, he rose from his seat and joined Elespeth, who still held his distraught friend’s shoulders in a steady grip.
“Isidor,” he started gently, settling beside his wife, “believe me when I say I’m the first person to reject when someone tells me ‘No’ and ‘It can’t be done.’ But I’ve seen what the stars can do when you defy their counsel, and it’s nothing short of maddening. If Tivia says that even trying is dangerous and could negatively impact Teselin’s reconstitution process, then I must begrudgingly stand aside and place my faith in your sister and her formidable strength. No one is happy about this, Isidor. No one is sighing in relief because we don’t have to deal with her unpredictable magic for the foreseeable future. Absolutely no one is celebrating. This is a difficult, a near impossible decision to make, and I can’t imagine how upsetting it is for you to hear, especially when time is so finite and we don’t know when she’ll return, but,” he tried for a hopeful smile, “something tells me it won’t be centuries, millennia, or even decades when we see her again. She’s in the Night Garden, the best possible place for her recovery. This isn’t the end. Far from it.”
“Ari didn’t ban her from the village over a vendetta, besides.” Chara, a largely quiet presence, finally broke her silence and weighed in, opting to defend her successor and the weighty decisions he no doubt needed to make. “He was pressured into it by his council, a motion I am certain haunts him with regret. Teselin herself understood this ruling and his reasoning. While it’s unfortunate what resulted from her using the Mollengardian manacle, I cannot say I’m fond of your implication that we have not properly accommodated your sister’s needs. You must understand, we have done and will continue to do everything we can for her. She has done so much for us, selflessly asking for nothing in return, and has certainly earned her honored place here in Galeyn. Her allies and defenders are many, I assure you. Tivia would not lead us astray on such a grave and serious matter. I know her well as my subordinate during Prince Messino’s war. She possesses a soldier’s gravitas and does not mess around.”
Except, Isidor thought the opposite, and turned his bewilderment and ire on the star-seer, spectacles crunching in his fisted hand. Tivia, who had tried to remain a bastion of cool professionalism, lost some of her poise when at last he looked at her. Stared at her. Dissected her. Tivia’s one eye widened, and a flush of either shame or shock spread across her cheeks like a rash. “Isidor—I would do no such thing!” She said, rattling with outrage and hurt. “If only you knew how invested I am in Teselin’s recovery. You don’t know…anything! Not a damn thing!” A rogue tear clung stubbornly to her eyelid. She furiously blinked it away. “This information—do you think I take pleasure in it? Or in practically any news I feel obligated to impart? Would it have been better if I said nothing? Or if I disappeared again? Tell me honestly, Isidor! What would finally make you happy?!” Stunned at her outburst, she retreated a step, self-consciously adjusting the strap that held her eyepatch in place. “I…don’t have all the answers,” her emphatic voice sank into a defeated whisper, the hand on her face shivering, fingers stretching outwards as if to reach for him, comfort him. “But I know this much. She stands a better and speedier chance if we step aside and allow nature to take its course. You say you don’t want to wait a lifetime, but if anyone interferes…it might well be. So if you disregard my warning and try,” her eye flashed dangerously, “then that’s on you. You have free will, after all. I’m not stopping you. But,” she pointed a finger at him, “accuse me of not giving a shit again, about Teselin and especially about you,” she snapped to hide the raw, wounded emotion fringing her words, “and I’ll show you what it’s like to be at the mercy of the stars.”
She didn’t stick around after Isidor left the room. Merely nodding to the rest of the council and expressing her gratitude for obliging her request, Tivia vanished, departing just as she had arrived; out of thin air.
Trying to salvage whatever little was left of their gathering, Alster sighed out an addendum to the plan…or non-plan, as it were. “Now that we know of Teselin’s newest state of matter, I’ll see about monitoring her condition as it develops. If I can. As we can do little else, at the very least we can keep apprised of the situation.”
On that somber note, Lilica adjourned their meeting, giving everyone leave to attend their own affairs. Alster and Elespeth hadn’t made it far down the palace corridors before hearing Vitali’s loud proclamation, followed by the sounds of a tussle. But when they rushed over to break up the fight, the damage had already been dealt. Isidor, hurriedly retreating from Vitali’s chambers, cradled a limp wrist that was twisted horribly askew. “Isidor, your hand. Let me see it. I can mend what’s broken.” But just like Elespeth, Isidor also pushed away Alster and with it, any desire for his help.
“Isidor,” he began, gentle and placating. “I can’t account for how you’re feeling about this, but let me approach this from another angle. We’re not doing nothing. Magic is…complicated, and as it is, we know so little about how to treat and aid a summoner. For so long we’ve failed to help her overcome the parameters of her wild magic and that’s a sting I feel, always, and one to which I know you can also relate. I know you think we’re continuing to fail her, that we’re giving up, but perhaps we’ve been approaching her case all wrong. Perhaps,” he hesitated, difficult enough for him to admit, let alone share aloud, “she’s meant to figure this out on her own, without our well-meaning yet ultimately insufficient meddling. On her own, mind, but not alone…because even if she’s not with us in physical form, it doesn’t mean we’ve lost her, or that she’s all by herself. We can still be here for her, to help ensure that her journey isn’t in complete isolation. Let’s support her—that is something most definitely in our power to do.”
But his optimistic call to action likely fell on deaf ears as Isidor, not yet ready to explore an avenue that hinged on the mere insinuation of ‘giving up,’ angrily shuffled away from them, broken wrist and all.
He wanted to give chase, against his better judgement, but a snarky voice from behind impelled him to whirl around to address the source. “Vitali. I take it you’re the reason Isidor’s wrist is broken?” He raised an eyebrow, receptive to the lich’s account of the violence that Isidor instigated. While Alster believed him, he wasn’t keen on accepting the result of their fight. “Did it merit breaking his wrist? A punch or a shove would have sufficed. How does this benefit him and his already fraying state of mind?!” His shout alerted the other witnesses who lingered in the corridors, who, too stunned to carry on in peace, looked on with conservative curiosity. “You can all go now!” He seethed at the retinue, who scattered upon his biting words.
“What the fuck do we do now?” He cursed aloud, pressing the heel of his prosthetic hand, the one Isidor upgraded and vastly improved upon, against his brow. “I believe Tivia, but…this is all such a horrific mess and I don’t know how this is going to affect Isidor.”
“It’s about to get even worse.” Another person joined their ranks. Haraldur Sorde, fully decked out in his leather armor, huffed as though he’d been running for his life. “I need volunteers. Any who are able-bodied and magic-adept will do well to come with me.”
Alster turned to Haraldur, frowning deeply. “I’m happy to help, but what’s this all about?”
Haraldur withdrew his resonance stone. “One of my Forbanne messaged me. He reported that Bronwyn and Sigrid found Hadwin at the northern border—and in the center of an out-of-control wildfire. It’s spreading fast, and if we don’t act now, it will move further into Galeyn’s farmlands, villages—and into the Night Garden itself. My Forbanne are giving evacuation orders as we speak.”
“…Fuck.” Alster didn’t commonly lob swear words, but his propriety would have to forgive using them twice in a row. “Alright,” he slapped his cheeks, trying to regain his composure. “Gather whoever else you can. Elespeth and I will portal there immediately and see about dispersing the fire and getting everyone involved to safety.”
Hadwin thought he was so clever, concealing his tracks and his scent, but cleverness didn’t mean a lick if his trackers were able to predict his destination. And that’s exactly what Bronwyn and Sigrid did. Abandoning their attempts to follow Hadwin’s convoluted non-trail, they shifted their pursuit by making an educated guess.
Rowen’s death site. In any other situation, Hadwin would go literally anywhere else, but with Teselin’s disappearance coinciding too closely with the death of their sister, he was likely going mad with grief. In the end, Bronwyn and Sigrid’s calculated gamble paid off. As soon as their shared Night steed approached the false sunrise blooming on the horizon, they understood, with burgeoning horror and clarity, what awaited them there.
“No. Please don’t tell me it’s too late.” Bronwyn sucked in a breath as their steed encroached closer to the inferno before ultimately spooking and bucking up with fear, unable to continue.
They trekked the rest of the way on foot, hustling to the center of the burning glade where they suspected Hadwin—or some semblance of him—would be. Sure enough, they spotted him, a hunched-over lump on the ground, mere inches away from an incinerating wall of flame.
“Hadwin!” She cried, and made to dart for her unresponsive brother, but Sigrid acted faster and dragged him out of the fray before the flames could claim him as their next casualty. All things considered, he appeared relatively unscathed, either from his regenerative healing ability or from some divine, dumb providence, but when Sigrid propped up his shoulders to scold him, he sagged in her grip, his every breath a cough, short and pained and too weak to activate the rising of his chest. He was alive, awake, but if he heard Sigrid, he didn’t have the voice to answer. Upon closer inspection, however, Bronwyn didn’t think he registered what Sigrid said at all. Normally, mention of Teselin would cause some recognition to flutter in his eyes, but they were dead things, removed of their light and care.
“We need to find him help!” She tugged on Sigrid’s sleeve, encouraging her to stand. “Help me carry him. I’ve seen him like this before; he’s not well. The fire also might have…we have to get him away from here!”
As if on cue, a white-blue flash turned Bronwyn’s head in time to see two figures emerging from the undamaged portion of forest. Alster and Elespeth ran to the duo and their catatonic ward, concern bunching up their faces.
“I’ll take him to the sanctuary,” Alster offered, skipping the whole preamble of asking after his condition. “We’ll have him looked at. Come on…let’s move away from this fire.”
Meanwhile, in the sanctuary, Ari and Nia, who were blissfully unaware of the escalating drama unfolding outside the hut, were awake and relaxing in their respective beds. A sketchpad open on his lap, the Canaveris lord directed his uncoordinated hand to press the charcoal upon the page, but the progress was halting, and he frequently took breaks to massage his sore, stiff wrist. After reaching a particular milestone in his project, he hailed Nia’s attention on the adjacent bed.
“May I ask for your honest opinion?” He held up his work in progress; a surreal piece replete with melting walls and twisted corridors breaking off into the vacuum of space. The sketch, while intriguing in subject and still impressive to behold, was rough in places, some of the linework smudged and shaky; the shading, uneven. “On a scale of one to ten, can you please rate how terrible you find this piece? Not only does it signify a major departure from my regular work, but evidently, I’ve quite a ways to go with regard to my dexterity and grip strength.”
Before he received an answer, a loud, intrusive knock sounded on the door, followed by the inward whoosh as it swung open on its hinges. A small retinue of people, led by Alster, squeezed through the doorway, carrying a half-conscious, soot-streaked, fire-eaten Hadwin Kavanagh. Lowering his sketchbook, Ari propped himself upright on the bed. “What—may I ask what happened?”
“First off, my apologies to you both. I know you’re convalescing, but it looks like you’ll be earning a roommate for a little while.” With Bronwyn beside him, they carefully hauled Hadwin onto the bed furthest from Ari and Nia, bolstering pillows behind his head to mitigate the frequency of his coughs. “There’s been a fire. Technically, it’s still raging outside. I doubt it will reach here, so…no cause for concern.”
Ari did not look convinced. “Forgive me, Lord Rigas, but I am concerned. And in need of clarification, as I am sure Nia also desires.”
Pressing a delicate hand over Hadwin’s chest, Alster lapsed into silence, his concentration shifting on inspecting the faoladh’s blackened lungs, but Bronwyn stepped in to fill his place, albeit with faltering certainty.
“We…we just found him like this. In the middle of a fire, in the same place my sister died. We don’t know how it started, but…” she glanced over her shoulder at Hadwin, who didn’t acknowledge a pinprick of the reality laid before him. “…Teselin’s gone. Well, in a manner of speaking. She’s alive and unharmed, but…elsewhere,” she said, the best term she could think to use for a brief and hurried summary of events. “When he learned there’s nothing we can do to bring her back…,” she gestured at her unresponsive brother, choking back a sob, “…he lost his mind, really lost it, and I…she was the only one ever able to shake him from the precipice of madness. Teselin…and before that, my sister. And they’re not here, and,” with trembling legs, she sat on the edge of Hadwin’s bed, throwing her hands over her face. “…I don’t know…I don’t know what I can do—for this hopeless son of a bitch. Because heaven fucking knows none of us are going to be enough for him to snap out of it!”
Shortly after Alster, Elespeth, and Haraldur took their leave to deal with the fire, Vitali, who predictably didn’t go with them, received another visitor. When he opened the door, Tivia was standing on the other side, a half-drunk bottle of wine in her hand.
“It will be just like old times again, Vitali,” she slurred, by way of greeting. “Me, crashing into your quiet, sanctified space and polluting the air by complaining about every damn thing I can possibly think of. Come, let’s celebrate!” Without waiting for an invitation, she stumbled into his room, offering him the wine with the full-on expectation that he wouldn’t accept it. “Galeyn’s burning, Isidor spurns my existence, there’s fuck all I can do about anything because the more I get involved, the more the future gets fuzzy and hard to follow—oh, and when I stupidly disregard my neutrality pact and actually try to influence a good outcome, suddenly I’m the fucking villain and contribute to steering someone I love down a dark and twisted path of obsession.” Throwing herself on Vitali’s bed, she brought the wine bottle to her lips, determined to suck it dry. “If there’s no getting ahead, if there’s no winning no matter what you do—or deliberately don’t do—then what’s the damn point? So let it all burn for all I care!” She laughed, an unrestrained cackle possessed of little sound and mostly air. “You know, in the world I lived in last, my counterpart died in the fire that Haraldur saved me from. Because she didn’t survive, she never developed her star-seer gift. Curse. Whatever. Lucky bitch, I say.” With her unoccupied hand, she clawed at the less pronounced yet still prevalent burn scars pocking the left side of her face. “…Lucky fucking bitch. Fire is a damn blessing, isn’t it?”
“So let me get this straight: you propose we leave her to her own devices? That we don’t reach out at all, and hope that, by some miracle, the pieces of her spread across this kingdom will suddenly become so acutely attuned to her summoner powers that she’ll just figure it out? Aren’t you even remotely aware that this happened because she thought no one helped her to begin with?!” Isidor, usually reasonable and rational, was not open to conversation, let alone anything that he could possibly perceive as debate. “Teselin is selfless, but do you really think she would have done this to herself to wake up Nia if she had known that there was no coming back from what she did? She’d never have left the people who care about her. She knows too well how much Hadwin Kavanagh needs her in his life to even remain remotely stable. We have all already failed her by leaving her to her own devices in the first place--I won’t do it again. I owe it to her to help her when she needs it the most, and if no one here sees fit to help me…”
The frantic Master Alchemist trailed off, looking from Alster, to Elespeth, to Vitali and any other onlookers in turn. “If no one will help her, then I can accept this is something I will do alone. Because I refuse to accept leaving her to some unknown fate. She… needs me. At the very least, she needs someone who has not given up on her!”
At this point, it was a common, quiet understanding amongst all who witnessed or were part of the altercation that no one should give chase. Isidor emanated fierce and unstable energy, and all who ventured too close were at risk of getting scalded by the passion of his commitment to help his sister. Something had broken in him at the thought of losing her forever, something more severe than his mangled wrist, and it was not about to heal anytime soon. While Elespeth looked on in helplessness, Vitali’s face betrayed no emotion at Alster’s accusation, hardly budging from where he stood near his open doorframe.
“I was very forthright; I made myself clear that if he chose violence, I would defend myself.” The necromancer’s explanation was matter-of-fact, and in truth, he had announced it very loudly before coming to blows with his younger brother. “Did you happen to see the look in his eyes? He’s at the cusp of completely losing himself, Rigas; perhaps he already has. He wouldn’t have stopped, and would have only come out if it far more injured than he is now. So if you’re really going to ask me how it ‘benefited’ him… know that it could have turned out much worse. Like I said,” he turned his hands palms up in a gesture that was supposed to be helpless, “Just because I can no longer die in the traditional sense does not mean I won’t look out for my new body. It isn’t as easy as jumping into a new one if there happens to be one available, you know.”
Elespeth appeared just as distraught as Alster, but decided it was best not to express it so openly when her husband made it clear he was upset enough for the both of him. “This is an awful situation no matter how you look at it,” she agreed, placing a supportive hand on Alster’s shoulder. “But, Isidor has been upset before, and he is already predisposed to feeling sore when people step out of his life, whether it is of their own volition or not. First his mother abandoned him, then Tivia disappeared for months on end… and now he has no concept of the next time he will ever see Teselin again. I think we simply need to give him space to grieve. You know him; I know him. Regardless of what he says, he won’t do anything that could possibly jeopardize the eventual return of his little sister. I understand Tivia was once again put in the unwilling position of being the messenger of bad news, but…” The former knight exhaled, and her hand slipped from Alster’s shoulder. “Isidor evidently needed more tact and gentleness than she was feasibly able to offer, under these circumstances. Although nothing was stopping you from helping your brother come to terms with this unfortunate turn of events, Vitali.” She turned a critical eye to the ever nonchalant necromancer. “He came to you out of desperation and pain. You could have at least tried to be kinder.”
“My dear Elespeth, I ‘could have been’ a lot of things in my lifetime. In any case,'' Vitali shrugged his shoulders, completely dissociating from any blame Elespeth or anyone else decided he should bear. “Coddling him won’t make things better. He needs to understand the truth. Like you said, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he comes to it on his own terms. After all, he always has. That said… perhaps it isn’t Isidor with whom you should be concerning yourself today.”
How Vitali knew the message Haraldur Sorde was going to impart just seconds later was anyone’s guess; but whether it was news on the wind or departed spirits keeping him informed was not currently the biggest issue. “Hadwin?” Elespeth sprung to attention at the mention of the faoladh, who was just as distraught as Isidor… or perhaps moreso. “Do you think he…”
What other explanations could there be? Hadwin would not set the kingdom alight out of malice; but there was nothing to say he wouldn’t commit such an act out of madness. And without Teselin to keep him grounded, someone else for him to focus on in lieu of ruminating on the dark thoughts in his head… anything was possible.
“Let’s go. We’ll evacuate any homes nearby that are even remotely at risk of falling victim to the wildfire.” The former knight agreed immediately. “The Night Garden has already suffered extensive damage from what it required to take down Locque. We need to save whoever and whatever we can before it becomes bigger than all of us.”
“Hadwin--are you even listening? Can you hear me?” Sigrid shook the foaladh’s shoulders a few times, and even went so far as to loosen her grip. He wasn’t trying to get again; his muscles were slack, and he wasn’t… it didn’t really seem like he was there at all. Were he himself, he would have fought her off, or even shifted into a wolf and gone so far as to have bitten her to get away. “He’s still alive; he’s alright,” the former member of the Dawn Guard informed Bronwyn, who was understandably beside herself with worry. “But he’s… let’s get him to the Night Garden. The Forbanmne have alerted Haraldur to the fire, and he can use whatever manpower the kingdom has to offer to get it under control. But you’re right, Hadwin should be our priority.”
No sooner had she spoken that the very air around them opened up, and Alster and Elespeth Rigas stepped though as if they had torn a rip in a paper wall. News certainly traveled fast, and their timing couldn’t have been much better. “That was my thought: the sanctuary. There’s something… he doesn’t appear to be hurt. But he’s not himself, Alster.” Sigrid echoed what Bronwyn had said. No one bothered to rationalize why this had happened to the normally spunky faoladh, as it had long been the unspoken assumption that Teselin Kristeva alone had been what was keeping him sane. Especially after he’d killed Rowen.
With Hadwin in good hands, Sigrid agreed to help round up anyone who might be of use in putting out the rapidly spreading wildfire, while Bronwyn insisted on accompanying Alster and Elespeth to the sanctuary with her barely responsive younger brother. Indeed, the sanctuary had been quiet and placid since that morning when Nia had finally awoken from her coma, and probably for the better. Too much light, too many sounds were rather overwhelming to her, and while she heeded Isidor’s advice not to fall back asleep (tempting as it was), she did steal the odd moment to close her eyes for minutes at a time until Ari’s voice would encourage her to wake. The Canaveis lord had been working on some sketches to keep him occupied in his idleness, and had been trying to glean her opinions all afternoon as a means to keep her mind awake and alert. Of course, as someone who hadn’t much of an eye for art, she was never quite sure of what to tell him.
“Terrible…? I’m not qualified enough to answer that question, Ari. You know that.” The Ardane woman sighed, her voice still hoarse from lack of use for days upon days. “I’m more curious at what inspired you to depart from your typical style…”
There came a knock at the door, and in a matter of seconds, the quiet little hut of convalescence was once again brimming with so many people. Among them were Alster and Elespeth Rigas, Bronwyn Kavanagh, and--
“...Hadwin?” Nia hadn’t been quite so alert all day long as she was now, seeing the faoladh so limp in the arms of those who had brought him here. “A fire? I-is he… alright?”
It was a stupid question, for if he were truly alright, he wouldn’t be here right now. But that wasn’t the end of the bad news that the others had to impart. A fire had started along Galeyn’s northern border, Hadwin wasn’t himself, and Teselin… Wait, what had become of Teselin?
“...what do you mean… Teselin’s gone? But alive? What is going on?” Nia straightened her spine and sat upright in her bed. “Is that why… did Hadwin… we need to know what’s happening. I need to know what’s going on.”
“We don’t really understand it ourselves. Teselin has… disappeared. But only in the sense that she doesn’t have a physical body any longer. She’s…” Elespeth wracked her brain to try and deliver this information in the most considerate way possible. Now wonder Tivia had such a hard time coming across as sympathetic; there was literally no feasible way to put a positive spin on this, and she didn’t need yet another person completely losing themself to these miserable happenstances. “She’s become something… noncorporeal. And the trouble is, only time alone will give her what she needs to eventually put herself back together. But to Hadwin, she is… lost. Because he can’t see her, can’t touch her, and he doesn’t know when he will see her again. None of us do.”
“... Teselin is…” Even if Nia was in a position where all of her mental faculties were sharp and primed for problem solving, her response would have been the same. “I don’t… understand. So we… we don’t know what has or what will become of her? Does Isidor know?”
The former knight exchanged a worrying glance with her husband. “...unfortunately, yes. For now, I think it is best if we give him space. He did not take well to the news at all. But we must emphasize Tivia’s counsel: interfering in any way might only make it worse for Teselin. This is not something that necromancy, or alchemy, or mastery alchemy, or any form of magic can readily solve.” Elespeth elected to omit the part where Tivia had made it clear that Teselin’s disappearance was a direct result of bringing Nia back to the waking world, for fear that the same guilt Isidor felt would settle in the Ardane alchemist’s bones, and then they would have two inconsolable Master Alchemists who refused to sit back and let Teselin’s transformation run its natural course. Alster must have had the same idea, for he didn’t mention it as an addendum.
Understandably, Nia looked stricken, and Ari, shocked. But she didn’t argue, and after a moment, asked, “But… she will come back? At some point? That is what the star seer said?”
“Yes. At some point. Whenever that may be.” Elespeth confirmed, relief flooding her voice when Nia did not overreact. Perhaps she simply didn’t have the energy to do it. Frankly, the most distraught person in the sanctuary was Bronwyn, and perhaps she shed enough emotion for the lot of them, such that Nia didn’t feel histrionics were necessary.
“...y’know, I think you’re wrong. About us not being enough.” Nia said to Bronwyn after a moment, startling the faoladh woman enough that she locked eyes with her. “Tes kept him grounded. But he means a lot to other people, as well, and he knows it. He’s just forgotten. Hadwin was my first real friend here in Galeyn, even when he knew I had taken an unpopular side. He didn’t shit on me for it… he drank with me, anyway. Had good times at various taverns. He saved my ass when Locque went down… I’d have run away, and died of my injury, if he hadn’t brought me back to Ari. I’m not about to let him go anytime soon. Neither is that acrobat, Briery Frealy. If he needs help out of a dark place… we’ll all lift him out. Leave him here.” She nodded to the last empty cot in the small hut. “I’ll keep an eye on him; not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Ari,” while Nia was trying to inspire some hope in Bronwyn, there was still another crises that needed immediate attention, and Elespeth had an idea the Canaveris lord might be able to help. “Can you contact your mother? If the D’Marian village has any earth mages who would be willing to temper the wildfire before it rages out of control, it can buy us more time to put it out. Haraldur, the Forbanne, and probably the Dawn Guard are all on it, but they won’t be enough. We need all the help we can get.”
“...Tivia.” Vitali had an inkling that he might be seeing the star seer that evening, given how his brother had reacted to her verdict. The Rigas woman, who had once harboured romantic feelings for him, had come far since those days: she was no longer a girl, but had grown into something so much rarer and more significant. It almost surprised him to see her resorting to such a knowingly mortal coping mechanism. “You know that alcohol can actually intensify frustration in the short term?”
She didn’t seem to care, and anyway, it was too late. “I’m not certain that Galeyn would consider this recent wildfire much of a blessing. But, that world you inhabited was not where you belonged, was it? Otherwise, you would still be there, with another version of my little brother. Instead, you are here, and he is much different from the Isidor with whom you most recently had relations, isn’t he?” Vitali knew little of the alternate world Tivia had fallen into, and didn’t care to ask for the details, knowing full well that there were some things that were better left completely unknown. But information had a way of finding him, whether he wanted it or not; much like Tivia, and her unbreakable psychic link with the stars.
“You also know I am absolutely dreadful when it comes to consoling.” He added, and closed his door to offer her some privacy in her rather vulnerable condition. “I can’t tell you what you want to hear to make you feel better. However, I can tell you that my brother has been on track for mental upheaval such as this for quite some time. He has no concept that you continue to care about him, let alone Teselin. But, I agree with your verdict: Teselin needs this time for herself. Call me callous for not lapsing into depression at her disappearance, but, she is not different from a caterpillar who has entered its pupa stage. I believe when we see her again, she will be whole. Akin to a butterfly. And… perhaps the same can be said for Isidor.”
The necromancer leaned against the wall, arms folded as his violet eyes stared pensively at the ceiling. “Let him come full circle with his anger. I am curious as to what we will find when he emerges from his cocoon.”
While Ari didn’t much care for the faoladh who assaulted his niece, he wasn’t immune to seeing another being in such a piteous state. It had moved him to sympathy—expressly so, given Bronwyn Kavanagh’s open grief. The eldest of the three wolf-kin had already suffered so much from the antics of her siblings, to the point where it must have impacted how she chose to live her life; holding her breath, afraid to make plans for herself in case her brother took an inevitable tumble.
And tumble he did, down a ravine where none could see the crooked, discarded figure at the bottom, dead, in most respects, to the waking world. Considering Ari’s recent tussle with death, followed by the intense worry that Nia would never awaken from her subconscious prison, Ari could relate to feeling trapped in one’s own mind. His eyes flitted to his sketchbook, where his latest piece, a deconstructed home collapsing into the vastness of space, exactly reflected his current state of mind. Having touched the precipice of death, everything in life suddenly felt more profound, more fragile, as if strips of it were liable to come apart and scatter to the winds at the simple stirring of a breeze.
Learning about the fire, and Teselin’s strange dissolution, Ari wasn’t wrong to hold that opinion.
He leaned over his bed to grab the resonance stone at his nightstand, placed there by Nadira in case he needed anything during her absence, just as Elespeth turned to request his aid. “Not to worry, Lady Rigas; I already planned on doing so.” On weary arms, he creaked to an upright position, suffering a voracious coughing fit from the shift before clearing himself of the congestion. He put the stone to his lips.
“I do not know if you are aware, but the northern border of Galeyn is burning,” he relayed, his voice hoarse from disease, but full of command. “I know you are currently at the D’Marian settlement. Gather our earth mages and any others willing to help. We must contain this fire before it spreads into the Night Garden and into any villages or homesteads.”
While busy conveying his message, Bronwyn, beside herself and hating it, occupied her fists by punching the stuffing out of the edge of Hadwin’s bed, for all the good that it did. She perked one ear, not expecting Nia, perhaps in a more weakened state than Ari, at the moment, gathered enough of her wits to express hope and console. Bronwyn never forgot the last several times the Master Alchemist reached out to comfort her, the poor sod who…never seemed to stop dealing with some sibling crisis or another. Her empathy and kindness prompted Bronwyn to listen, at least. “I sure hope you’re right,” she said unevenly, the shudder in her voice making it hard to speak without wanting to scream or to explode in violent, wracking sobs. But she wasted enough tears for her good for nothing brother. Far too many; it was a wonder she had any left to spare. “He has a lot of people who care about him, and he cares about them too, but none has he let so deep into his heart than Teselin. Briery might come close…but it’s always the summoner who brings him back to himself in the end. And who can compete with that?! I can sense…he realizes this, too. His love for her is so great, that learning he couldn’t help Teselin, or at the very least follow her…it was the final straw, and he couldn’t hold on anymore.” In her grief, she seemed to forget, when Teselin was asleep and a madness-driven Hadwin almost assaulted Nia with her greatest fears, Bronwyn had stepped in and did something to calm him. But that was only because Teselin was currently present in the room, a passive buffer. Now that he has no tether, absolutely nothing will stop him from floating off to his own doom. …Once touched, no one ever survived the faoladh madness.
As if on cue, Alster, who had fallen into a deep meditative trance over Hadwin’s body, gasped awake, removing his hand from the faoladh’s barely moving chest. When a few concerned pairs of eyes glanced his way, he waved a dismissive hand at them. “I’m fine. But Hadwin…” he frowned. “His lungs have suffered smoke inhalation damage, which for some reason, aren’t self-healing. It’s as if he’s…forgive my indelicacy, but lost the will to live,” he lowered his eyes, ashamed to meet Bronwyn’s stare. “I tried delving into his unconscious mind to pull him out of his fugue, but…I can’t get a foothold in there. It’s too loud, too dark, too,” he shook his head at the residual haunts lurking in his eyes, “…it’s like seeing the surface of hell itself. With what little I’ve been able to stomach…it appears that he truly believes himself to be dead, and his mindscape is the afterlife, a place of eternal punishment.”
“Great,” Bronwyn sighed, already on the brink of compassion fatigue. There was so much to digest, her brain couldn’t handle it anymore. Better to resort to deep, numbing resignation, lest she be the next faoladh to lose her goddamned mind. “So let me guess; absolutely nothing can be done for him either?”
“Well,” Alster paused, as if drumming together any threads of positivity would prevent Bronwyn from snapping next, “his lungs will heal, over time. Faster with his faoladh regeneration. I tended to his burns and they’ll heal nicely as well. But,” he pressed his steel fingers against his flesh and blood palm, voice quieting, “his largest wound is mental in nature, and that’s…much trickier to treat. No doubt proximity to the Night Garden and surrounding himself with good company will be a boon, and I can't imagine his catatonia will become a permanent fixture, but…that’s all I can predict at this stage.” He turned to the eldest Kavanagh, hands defeated at his sides. “I’m sorry, Bronwyn. But please know I will keep trying to access his mind. Every day if I must, until I can reach and pull him free.”
“I see.” Bronwyn climbed to her feet, looking, for all intents and purposes…unfazed. A jarring departure from her mess of almost sobs and nonsense worrying. She didn’t even register Alster’s hopeful conclusion. She was done hoping. “None of this is surprising news. Just a normal day for the likes of him. A glutton for punishment—that’s him in a nutshell. So give him what he wants. Put the bastard out of his damn misery. He’s suffered enough.” She gestured to Alster and Elespeth before they could comment on her shocking, but not unjustified, proclamation. “You returning to the fire? Take me with you. They need all the help they can get. I’m good for that, at least. Putting out my brother’s fires.”
Alster hesitated, casting Elespeth a quick, concerned look. “Yes, we do plan on returning, but…”
Bronwyn crossed her arms over her chest, not bothering to let him finish. “You think I’m a liability, too. Since I’m a Kavanagh, I’m bound to blow my top next. Even Hadwin thinks so. He predicted it. But I am not like my brother—and I’ll prove it.” With a dangerous growl, she marched for the doors. “Either I go with you, or I will get there myself. But I’m going out there to join Sigrid and Haraldur and for the last time in my life I will not be denied involvement. Knock me out if you’re looking to stop me.” And without another word, she burst out the sanctuary door, with Elespeth and Alster trailing helplessly after her.
“Hah. I know exactly what alcohol can do and yet I still choose to partake.” Tivia grasped the wine bottle by the neck and gave it a few experimental spins, reveling in hearing the dark substance swish against the glass. “You’ll find it’s how I spend the majority of my free time nowadays. When I’m not needing to look put-together or presentable or some shit.”
When the lich-man announced his inability to console, she laughed, a guffaw she didn’t realize, or care, carried a thunderclap of sound to Vitali’s poor ears. Even after decades of practice, she still couldn’t regulate the volume of her voice consistently, either coming off as too quiet, or too loud. “You’d think I’d be in your company if I wanted consoling? Everyone else, they’d just pity me. You at least understand the burden of getting assailed, nonstop, by forbidden, ceaseless knowledge. On that front, you’ve always been able to understand me.” She rubbed at a raw patch of skin on her finger where a ring used to be, as the initial buzz of the alcohol deteriorated into the morose. “…I have nowhere else to go, Vitali. I just want someone who will listen without trying to empathize with my unique and maddening situation—as if they ever could.”
Still, she couldn't help but curve a smile as she watched Vitali’s lips flap to reveal what little he knew of her unwitting sojourns to another world—which was still plenty. “Impressive what the spirits know. I have to remember there’s little use censoring myself around you. It’s…refreshing. Anyway, that’s accurate. The other world’s Isidor was…so endearing. Charming, even. Comfortable in his skin, he had pride, a noble bearing, and carried himself without nearly so much self-loathing and self-punishing misery. Not to mention, he wasn’t so disconnected from his feelings. He acted on them. And no, I didn’t belong in that world, but after he,” she struggled to sound out the word as she dug a nail into the raw flesh, “sacrificed himself to grant me a chance of returning home, I no longer cared to be there, even as the world fell apart and ceased to exist. It was a different Isidor, yes, but I still owe it to this hopeless idiot—and all the other Isidors I encounter—to do what I can to help. And fuck, did I mess that up!” She tittered, and the vibrations sounded to her as frenetic as a bird’s wingbeats in a windstorm. “Because I can’t set aside my misplaced feelings for a minute to deliver a dialogue that either isn’t charged with too much, or too little. Not like I can fucking hear myself speak enough to adjust my tone as needed. Dammit,” she swept back a hank of blond hair that had fallen free of her messy bun. “I didn’t realize Isidor would react that strongly to the news! Kavanagh, yes, that was a given, but,” she sighed, “the stars tell me plenty, but they fail to warn me about how people will react. It’s far easier to remain impartial as a messenger than to input emotion the stars never intended, lest I corrupt the message. Anyway, it’s Alster’s specialty to soften the words, not mine, and even he failed to reach Isidor. But…” she shook her heady, laden head, “shows how much I know about this world’s Isidor, to be so far off the mark.”
“Well, what’s done is done,” she tried to come off as nonchalant, but she spoke the words in between swigs of wine. “And maybe you’re right. Perhaps Isidor needs this journey, and if it helps transform him into someone less insufferably dense, then I condone the transformation. But let’s hope…he doesn’t cross the line somewhere on that journey.” She stared into the lip of her bottle, peering into wet, sloshing darkness. “Because if he does…I will have to oppose him. I won’t let him disrupt Teselin’s ‘metamorphosis.’ But,” she closed her one eye and let her head sink, as if to nod off, “it’s not like he can hate me any less. So,” she yawned and transferred the now empty wine bottle into her hands as she plummeted against the pillow on Vitali’s bed, “…it’s fine. Everything’s…fine.”
As night faded into morning, Ari found a new preoccupation that replaced his dedication to journaling his experiences via art: the resonance stone. After encouraging Nia to rest, which was no easy feat considering recent events and the fact that her friend was lying catatonic in the bed beside her, the Canaveris lord shunned sleep in favor of receiving updates of the firefighting efforts at the border. His afflicted body begged him to retire and convalesce, but he knew it wouldn’t be possible. While adhering to the resonance stone was an obsessive use of his time, it was far better than lying awake all night, fretting about various things. About the fire, and the possible lives displaced or injured. About Hadwin Kavanagh’s survival, and the status of his distraught sister. About Teselin Kristeva’s state of incorporeality and his guilt associated with his unfair treatment of her. And about Isidor Kristeva, who, according to Elespeth, hadn’t taken the news too well at all. Frustration kicked his legs in restless circles under the sheets. If he were well, he could be of service. Alas, none could grant him a definitive date when he would be discharged from the sanctuary. His illness was still too advanced to leave, wracked as he was with constant fever and chills, coughing, muscle spasms, weakness and headache. Around Nia and other company, he masked his discomforts, but the moment they turned their eyes away, he coughed freely, no longer caring about keeping up appearances.
A golden glint in the corner of his eye caught his attention, forcing him to cut his session short.
Hadwin Kavanagh, still awake, was perched upright in bed, watching him, uncanny eyes alight.
“Ah, excuse me, Mister Kavanagh. My apologies for the…disturbance.” Somewhat embarrassed—and unnerved—Ari reached for a handkerchief and covered his mouth. The wolf-man didn’t respond, but seemed dully aware, in the sense that he still held a tenuous connection to the conscious world.
Later, a Gardener on duty visited the aggrieved and mentally damaged faoladh, giving him an injection of nutrients, as the patient refused to eat or drink anything, and lay him back on the bed, goading him into sleep. Within the hour, Hadwin had closed his eyes, his breathing rattled, shallow, and racked with involuntary coughs.
Meanwhile, the day broke in full, overcast and smoky by the look of it from the window. Ari startled as his resonance stone buzzed. Hurriedly, he brought it to his lips. He hadn’t heard from his mother in hours.
“How goes it, mama?” he asked, with trepidation. “Any news?”
“Indeed.” Nadira sounded tired, spent, but ultimately…relieved. “The Forbanne, the Galeynian guard, the D’Marians, and all other volunteers succeeded in evacuating the three villages affected by the blaze. We have injured, but no deaths recorded—yet. That report will have to come in once we conduct a proper survey. Our earth mages and the Rigases—namely Alster—have indeed contained and doused the fire. We built a ditch around the circumference and threw rocks and other detritus to bury the flames. Lord Rigas smothered the rest by using wind magic. In short—it is over. The affected villages and forests are destroyed, as is the tiny section of the Night Garden it touched, but…yes, it is over.”
Ari rested against the headboard of his bed, sighing out the stored tension. “Good. I am glad. Thank you, mama, for helming this delicate operation in my place.”
He gently awakened Nia, about to relay the good news, but a visitor at the door interrupted their conversation. “Nico.”
His eldest nephew stumbled inside, bleary-eyed and sleepless. “Uncle Ari. And Miss Nia.” He bowed to the bedridden Master Alchemist, reserving the tiniest of smiles for her recovery. “I am genuinely glad to see you well.” He turned his head to observe the sleeping faoladh. “I cannot say the same for Mister Kavanagh. He was…kind to me. Supportive. I owe him a lot. Is it true…that he started the fire?”
Ari folded his hands in his lap, sensing what was forthcoming. “Nico…”
Nico gripped his elbows and stared intensely at the window, his gaze wavering as he tried and failed to hold strong. “No need to explain. I heard the news from granmama. Miss Kristeva is…gone.” A fresh splash of water daubed his cheeks. “She is gone…and I was so cruel to her!”
“On my orders, bear in mind. Come here, Nico.” Ari patted an empty spot on the bed. Nico complied, but twisted his head away from Nia so she wouldn’t see his shame. “In hindsight, there are a multitude of things we wish we could have handled differently. I for one wish I had protected that poor girl when the chance presented itself. But I chose the safety and peace of mind of the D’Marians foremost. I do not rule the settlement with impunity; it is not a dictatorship, and so I felt left with no choice or say in the matter. Evenso, I will admit that her power…near frightened me to death at the masquerade. I passed Miss Kristeva’s order of exile half out of pressure and half out of fear. Would she still be here with us if I hadn’t? I cannot say for certain. But know this.” He offered Nico a clean cloth to dry his tears. “Teselin Kristeva is far too kind and forgiving to spurn your transgressions. I am sure she understands the precarious situation under which I placed you. For playing such an oppositional role to the detriment of your mental health, I humbly apologize. Be that as it may…she will return, Nico. Have faith in her return.”
If Alster was nothing but honest--and the man was known for his honesty and reliability--then things didn't look good for Hadwin. At least, not at the given moment. Elespeth tried to keep the concern from her face, but the last time her husband had recently worn such an expression was upon returning from checking on a stable but still unconscious Nia. While his deepest concerns--that Nia would not awaken--had not come to fruition, and the Master Alchemist was currently conscious and recovering, her current condition was nothing less of… a miracle. And all because of Teselin Kristeva, who had made the decision to venture into unknown territory for the sake of someone else. Because the girl, while knowing her presence brought comfort to very few, decided to act on Nia’s recovery and bring hope to Ari, to Nadira… to so many people who were invested in the Master Alchemist for one reason or another.
But, as a result… she was no longer here to bring Hadwin back to himself. And like Bronwyn suspected, Elespeth feared that the only person capable of such a feat was now scattered across the world in tiny particles.
This certainly was not what anyone wanted to hear--but Bronwyn in particular seemed to struggle with the news. Elespeth had already borne witness to how Isidor tolerated news of his sister’s disappearance; it hadn’t ended well. The Master Alchemist had spiraled, and she didn’t want to see the same happen to Bronwyn. “Bronwyn--it’s like Alster said. We won’t stop trying. What happened is still very fresh in your brother’s mind,” the Rigas woman tried to reason with the faoladh woman, but she feared her words were lost to her. “He needs time to heal… inside and out. He’s in the best place and surrounded by the best people. You and I both know he is too stubborn to concede defeat completely. When Teselin had no hope, he managed to make her believe in it again.” Elespeth hazarded a ghost of a smile. But she feared it was too nervous to be reassuring. “I know he has not given up hope on her so easily.”
She wasn't lying or exaggerating; about the very last thing that she was willing to believe about Hadwin was that he would ever give up on Teselin Kristeva. Deep down, Bronwyn must have believed that, too, but… she was too overwhelmed. Too bombarded with tragedy after tragedy, first losing her sister and now, feeling as though she had lost her brother. She wasn’t interested in trying to process this in a healthy way: she wanted to be distracted. Elespeth didn’t blame her.
“Bronwyn--we’ve never thought you to be a liability.” The former knight held up her hands. “You’re welcome to--” But she’d made up her mind. Bronwyn wasn’t waiting for permission; before Elespeth and Alster could react, Hadwin’s elder sister flew from the sanctuary so fast they hardly had time to keep up.
“Keep an eye on him,” Elespeth asked Ari and Nia with an air of apology for taking off so soon, but she feared for what Bronwyn would do out of desperation to do something other than worry for her brother.
Just like she’d said, Elespeth, Alster--hells, anyone aiding in effort to extinguish the fires that Hadwin had presumably caused. In the heat of late summer, the flames spread fast, creeping dangerously toward too many homes and even nicking yet another unfortunate segment of the Night Garden, which could hardly afford to take on any more damage in its already weakened state. Three small villages had to be evacuated, but fortunately, those among the injured were those able-bodied enough to face down the fire: no helpless civilians had succumbed, and the injuries were at best superficial and limited to easily treatable burns and smoke inhalation. Few required much more than the assistance of Gardeners in the Night Garden for treatment, and overall, many felt that it was one tragedy the weary kingdom had managed to narrowly avert. Alster and Elespeth were just a few among the many who had sacrificed sleep for the cause; Haraldur hadn’t even a moment to consider sleep, and neither did Sigrid when she met up with her cousin to lend a hand. Between sourcing water and soil to suffocate the flames, and ushering civilians to safety within the walls of the palace and to surrounding villages that remained unaffected, Sigrid hardly had a moment to spare throughout it all, and didn’t find the chance to catch her breath until she ran into Alster and Elespeth, consulting with earth mages who had also been enlisted to help. She hadn’t seen them since the previous morning, when they’d found…
“Hadwin.” What had become of the faoladh? And… where was his sister? She had gone with the Rigases when they’d transported Hadwin to the sanctuary, and hadn’t seen her since. “Alster--Elespeth.” The former Dawn Warrior broke into a jog toward the exhausted Rigas couple. They looked about as exhausted as she felt, with her blonde weave tangled and array, sweat mingling with soot in the worrylines of her face, and even a few superficial burns visible on her arms and hands. “Is Hadwin…?” Sigrid trailed off as soon as she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know the answer. So, before they could respond with an update on the wily faoladh’s condition, she proceeded to ask about his sister instead. “Where’s Bronwyn?”
“She’s…” Elespeth, her face also strewn with sweat and smeared with dust and ash, looked positively helpless in that moment. “We don’t know. She insisted on helping put out her ‘brother’s fire’, as she put it. She… didn’t take the news about her brother so well. I’m sorry, I wish I could be more specific…”
“No--it’s fine. I…” I never should have left her side. Not at such a vulnerable moment… Bronwyn had already been distressed the moment Hadwin fled the council chambers at the palace. Alster and Elespeth were trusted friends and allies to all, but over the weeks, it had been the former Dawn warrior who had begun to develop something of a kinship with Bronwyn. She never should have left her at such a time, thinking that she would take this emergency in stride… “I’ll find her. Leave it to me.”
Sigrid didn’t have such a keen sense of smell as Bronwyn did when it came to finding people, but she did have experience hunting and tracking in the forests beyond Braighdath; and, fortunately, Galeyn was not a large kingdom. Furthermore, while the fire had caused damage, the affected areas were relatively small, and it was evident where the displaced people had been sent to to escape the destruction in their small villages. Ultimately, Sigrid found the faoladh woman among a handful of Dawn warriors and Forbanne setting up temporary shelters for evacuated citizens. She looked tired, not unlike everyone else in surrounding areas after a night of panic and chaos, but beyond that, she appeared… lost.
Bronwyn didn’t even seem to register Sigrid’s presence until the blonde warrior put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey--it’s all under control now. Fire is out; everyone is safe and being tended to.” For fear of crowding her, the warrior took a step back and let her hand drop. “You can go get some rest. Or, we can return to the Night Garden and check on your brother. Whichever you prefer.” While she could easily have done with sleep, this certainly wasn’t her first 24 hour period of wakefulness, fueled purely on adrenaline: and Bronwyn, under these circumstances, really needed to not be alone.
“Really? All that time away from this world, in another dimension entirely, and this is what it has made of you?” Vitali asked casually rather than with judgment; he seemed genuinely curious of what Tivia had seen and experienced. “Although, I suppose that can come with the territory of maturing. Which you have. And, it also comes with the territory of knowing all too much… which you do. And I as well, as you’ve already stated. I suppose we all learn to tolerate the burden differently in the end.”
Truthfully, he didn’t mind the star seer’s venting; it wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and after the way his brother had reacted to news of their younger sister’s disappearance (or dissipation, was perhaps the more appropriate word), he had rather anticipated that Tivia would likewise react poorly as a result. So he stood with his back to the wall and let her vent her frustrations and concerns, because if nothing else, he was curious by nature and something of a good sounding board. The general populace might not have been particularly enamored of the advice he gave, when asked, but Tivia made it clear that she just wanted to be heard. And he respected that. “Secrets don’t exist when you communicate with the dead. Some came with you, in fact, across the threshold; did you know that’s somewhat common? Rest assured, nothing attributed to your doing. Spirits can so easily lose their way and stumble into a world that is not their own. Those tend to be the ones that stir up the most fuss. But I digress.” Vitali tilted his head and shifted his weight to the opposite foot. “Whatever it is you experienced in this other world, dear Tivia, whatever it was that made you stay and that made you leave… it might be best to put it behind you, for your own well-being. Especially the version of my brother that you loved. That version no longer exists; unfortunately, what we are stuck with is a broken shadow of the proud, confident Isidor you grew to know and adore. And it may only get worse from here.”
The necromancer crossed the room and picked up a crystalline glass sitting upon a relatively untouched vanity. Wordlessly, he offered it to the distraught star seer, in case she felt inclined to spiral in a manner that made her feel less wretched than drinking straight from a bottle of wine. “Would it surprise you to know that at one point--a very, very long time ago--I wasn’t so different from Isidor?” Vitali turned toward the window and pulled the curtains shut; as if he was afraid such incriminating (or embarrassing) words would be seen written on the glass pain in the fog of his breath. “I went through a transformation, as well--the result of which you see standing before you. Many would most certainly say I crossed a line in such a way that there is no turning back. Many are deeply unhappy with this result. But we all do what we will for survival, won’t we? We adapt--for better or for worse. I must say, I am rather intrigued to one day see how Isidor has finally evolved to adapt.”
Alster had left with a grim and uncertain prognosis regarding Hadwin, leaving Ari deeply concerned, but Nia did not submit to despondency quite so quickly. “He’s alive, isn’t he? Still breathing… still listening. It’s not too late… because Teselin’s not really gone.”
The Master Alchemist was weak; it was exhausting just to sit up and talk, but during her moments of wakefulness when she didn’t have Ari’s attention, she spoke to the faoladh on the assumption that he could hear and understand her. She had to believe he could; someone had to believe in him. “Y’know, wolf boy… I saw a world, without you in it.” She had yet to tell Ari about her excursion to another dimension, a world that mirrored their own; she would get to that. Eventually. “And… you know what? It was a hell of a lot gloomier. Even with everyone else shining bright, it didn’t feel… whole. This world, fucked up as it is, still needs you in it. There are people here who still need you in it. Like Teselin.” Nia smiled and closed her eyes, which had been growing increasingly heavier as she fought sleep. “‘Cause she’s still here… you know that, right? Tes never left. She’d never actually leave you…”
Nia was asleep more than she was awake most times, but the rate of her recovery was already remarkable during those times when she was awake. In twenty-four hours she was almost able to get up and stand on her own, and even tried to refuse assistance when she left the sanctuary just temporarily to empty her bladder for the first time in days. “I have to be strong for both of us,” she told Ari when he pleaded with her not to push herself too hard so soon after regaining consciousness. “Before I saw Alster… in my mind… I was in a place where I felt no hope. But I made it out. So can Hadwin; maybe he just needs to see that it is possible.”
But, in the current early stages of her recovery, it was difficult for the Master Alchemist to stay awake for long. Her periods of sleep were longer than those of wakefulness, so while she did what she could to keep Hadwin company, many silent hours passed in the sanctuary since he was admitted. Ari’s conversation with his mother was the first break in the silence for hours, and Nia missed all of it, not stirring until the Canaveris lord gently shook her awake. “...everything alright?” She asked Ari as she cracked her eyes open, but before he could relay the good news, there was a knock on the door. To everyone’s surprise, in walked Nico, looking a little worse for the wear with dark circles beneath his eyes. “Nico… this is weird. It’s not like you to be polite to me.” Nia joked and sleepily grinned, but it faded quickly as soon as she recognized the pain weighing on the shoulders of Ari’s nephew. He was devastated, not only due to Hadwin’s condition… but because of what had caused it. Word traveled fast in Galeyn, and she should have known it wouldn’t be long before word one of the kingdom’s most feared individual’s vanishing would spread faster than the fire Hadwin had started.
“Hate to be the one to point this out… but you’re both wrong. Tes isn’t going to return.” Nia smiled gently as both Ari and Nico looked at her in horror and confusion. “Let me finish. She’s not going to return… because she isn’t gone. She’s still here, with us, even if we can’t see her. For all we know, she can still hear us, see us… do you think it is what she’d want to see? Tears and despair? Teselin would never leave the people she cares about. She’s still around. I know she’s trying to put herself back together, piece by piece--especially for you, Nico. And you, Hadwin.”
Slowly, the Master Alchemist righted herself in a sitting position with some effort, and reached across her bed to touch one of the catatonic faoladh’s hands. “I bet, if you concentrate, you can feel her. Still looking out for you. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think it was true.”
For the second time that evening, Bronwyn accompanied Alster and Elespeth through the tear in the air, a mode of transportation that would normally gall her, considering its magical origins, but she no longer cared enough to respond with fear. Once they reached solid ground, she didn’t stick around the Rigas couple, instead making herself useful to the Forbanne and Galeynian guards in charge of the evacuations. She knew her strengths and limitations, and left the task of dousing the inferno to those with the means to stop it. Magic-users from the D’Marian settlement flooded the outer fringes of the fire’s path, hauling rocks and vast quantities of dirt atop the ravenous flames from a distance, smothering each encroaching, writhing mass of the conflagration one row at a time. Other mages collected buckets of water from the stream and projected the liquid skyward, creating a dense, amorphous blanket overhead. A word of command and the massive globule of water lost its shape, falling into a torrential downpour over the ravaged landscape. The blazing trees sizzled as steam rose around the afflicted territory, mingling with the smoke and impacting visibility. Thick, gray haze rolled into the surrounding villages, complicating effective evacuation strategies, but Bronwyn pushed on despite the smoke.
Tying a kerchief around her mouth and nose, she went around offering strips of fabric to others as she hurried them out of burning buildings and rushed them to safer ground. She provided water to the parched and a hand to the injured, flitting in and out of blazing villages with an energy possessed; frenetic, incalculable, unstoppable. She carried on this way from evening to sun-up, never stopping for a break or to catch her breath. Even when the majority of villagers had been evacuated and the fire contained, she persisted, cordoning off buildings that had suffered severe structural damage and were in danger of collapsing, and clearing away rubble and other tripping hazards. She spearheaded search parties for missing family members, turning over cinder-sparking wood beams and twisted metal in her quest to locate the lost. With her superior canine nose, she succeeded in recovering three missing people who she found buried under their homes—alive, but covered in burns.
By mid-afternoon, the wildfire was all but gone, save for a few smoldering trees and isolated patches corralled inside a massive ditch crafted by the Canaveris team of earth mages. Alster Rigas, who had also been instrumental in diminishing the blaze, was now making his rounds healing the injured and soothing their burns. At any moment, he appeared about to collapse. Bronwyn would have sympathized, but apart from a sense of urgency and the compulsive need to service the victims, she was unable to feel anything, not even exhaustion.
Bronwyn was hauling in jugs of fresh water from the stream to the temporary campsite for evacuated citizens when Sigrid made a physical show of capturing her attention. Despite the hand on her arm, she didn’t alter her trajectory. Slowly, she disengaged from its loose grip as she continued forward, balancing the heavy jugs on her shoulders like they weighed nothing. Wouldn’t clan Kavanagh be so proud? She had always excelled at menial labor, after all.
“Everything might be under control, but there’s still work to be done,” she said, her voice an automatic drone. “This is what I’m made for, what I’m built for. I don’t need sleep, and I’ll be of no use at my brother’s bedside.” She let her tired, yet determined eyes linger on Sigrid for a moment before returning them to the path ahead. “I prefer to work. Please excuse me.” Bypassing the blonde warrior, Bronwyn lugged her twin burdens under the hot summer sun, unaffected by its glare or the hot sweat rolling down her back in fat beads. She was unaffected by everything.
With her nearly negligible hearing, Tivia caught Vitali’s garbled speech in time to open her eye, lift her head off the pillow, and follow the movements of his lips. The wine was in the midst of carting her off to a drifting, humming lullaby, and the bed beneath her fingers felt more inviting than a room layered with the plushest of eiderdown-filled cushions, but she respected Vitali enough not to fall asleep when it was she who had enlisted his companionship. He didn’t have to engage, but he was making the effort for her sake, and she appreciated the gesture.
“We all have our coping mechanisms. I lived a blissful twenty-five years in that other world free of my star-seer abilities. Now that I’ve returned home, they’re back, and I’m relearning how to function with the near-constant bombardment of my mental faculties. Lucky for me I can’t hear high-pitched noises anymore, or I would have deafened myself by now. Anyway,” she sighed, “drinking dulls the visions and the memory of those god-awful frequencies. The screeching…like claws twisting into your eyeballs. Now is about the only time I feel…somewhat normal. Don’t tell me you never had an alcoholic phase or something similar when you dealt with your own ‘spiritual’ awakening.”
Vitali’s advice was practical. Hard to swallow, and nothing she hadn’t already instructed herself to do, but the thought of abandoning the memory of the one person who loved her more than anyone else living in this wretched, insufferable world…she wasn’t yet ready to release the double-edged sword of her pleasure and ever-lingering, ever-present pain. If she distanced herself from the past, what else did she have, to which she could cling? Where could she find joy, even if only its scraps?
She stared at the vestiges of wine remaining in the bottle. Just you.
“Easier said than done,” she let forth a fatalistic chuckle as she accepted the crystal glass from Vitali and poured out a shaky, blood-red stream into the vessel—the final serving of her precious stash. “Yes, it will be easier once I’m able to separate the two Isidors in my head—moreso when I see firsthand whatever becomes of him. In fact, I welcome the changes if they help me acknowledge him as a completely different entity.” But that man, that entity…he had loved you once, didn’t he? And…didn’t you? “But,” she shunted away her mind’s unnecessary inner commentary with another swig of wine, “what I cannot accept is the responsibility I feel for his current trajectory. I could have prevented it. It would have killed Aristide, or Nia, but maybe, if I had done nothing at that ball…” she trailed off and rounded her shoulders. “No…perhaps everything would have played out the same, just in a different order. The stars forever remain a mystery to me. Though I have exclusive access to their infinite streams of wisdom…somehow, it confuses more than clarifies.”
“Anyway,” she sniffed as she drew the back of her hand over her eye, collecting the moisture before it welled up and trickled down her face in a shameful, ugly display, “no…this doesn’t shock me, Vitali, believe it or not. To be honest, I don’t think I could handle seeing him become more like you. It’s nothing against you, of course, but…I don’t know. I suppose I secretly wished him a different fate. A happier fate. One where…I save him, for a change. Instead, I must stand by and do nothing as he blackens himself for a cause that will not serve him. I never wanted that for him. Never.” Beyond her control, a few rogue tears managed to sneak past her alcohol-funded defenses and slide down her cheeks. “Alas…I don’t think that infuriating, miserable sack of shit is even capable of finding his own happiness,” she seethed, and she burned away her tears as she finished the rest of the wine. “No matter his blessings, he’ll always reject them for no goddamned reason, and annihilate his prospects. As he is now, he’s a fucking lost cause.” She stared at the blank corner of the wall, sinking deep, down, into herself. “…Like me.”
There were so many questions Ari wanted to ask Nia. What did she mean by a ‘world’ without Hadwin in it? Did she refer to her impenetrable unconscious purgatory, where hope never thrived? However much he wanted to inquire, and ask about her well-being after the multiple ordeals she’d suffered on his account, the wildfire evacuation order took precedence, as did Hadwin’s—and their—recovery.
When Nico stepped inside the sanctuary later that day, more distraught than he’d seen him, Ari realized just how much the young summoner had meant to him in the short time they’d been acquainted. Perhaps a great deal of his distress arose out of guilt, but Nico had always been an insular, morose boy who kept to his room and spent many hours on his art projects. During events, he made himself scarce, preferring solitude over pomp and raucous activity. If he had any friends, Ari had never met them. In Teselin, he must have found a kindred spirit; an outcast, desperate for belonging among the shallows of society.
“Nia speaks the truth, Nico.” Turning to his bedside table, Ari poured his nephew a drink and handed him a tin of fresh water to drink. “Miss Teselin is not gone. Dispersed across the winds, is it not more accurate to say she is present in everything? In the rustling of the trees, the merry burbling of the stream, the warm sun dancing off a fresh-blooming gardenia, she presides. In the landscapes you paint, you may hope to capture her, and then she may live in your canvas. I know it might not amount to the same as beholding her corporeal form, but may this provide some solace to you, Nico. And for Mister Kavanagh, as well.” He turned his head to Hadwin, who, while awake, was staring foggy-eyed at the ceiling. Unresponsive as usual—but his fingers had ever-so-slightly twitched upon receiving Nia’s hand.
Whether their words had bolstered Nico’s mood wasn’t readily apparent. The boy wiped away his tears and nodded wearily as he took a small sip of water. “I appreciate your counsel,” he said finally, rising to his feet and setting aside the container. “I should return to the settlement and assist granmama. She would not allow me to accompany the other earth mages to the fire site, but now that the flames are more or less dispersed, she requires volunteers to assist with the rebuilding efforts. Carry on, Uncle Ari. Miss Nia.” His dark eyes settled on the third body in the room. “Mister Kavanagh. I wish you all a speedy recovery.” Woodenly, he turned to the door.
“Nico.” The boy paused. “Please visit often. I believe it will shorten our recovery period exponentially to harbor your company. Keep us informed of the goings-on from outside. I yearn to be of need, but for now, I might hope to live vicariously through you.”
Promising to make frequent returns, Nico said his farewells and shuffled outside the sanctuary door. Optimistic by nature, Ari shared a hopeful smile with Nia once they were—somewhat—alone together. “I do not understand how it happened, but Nico seems to respect you now. I would assume it is because you saved my life and placed your own at serious risk. There is little doubt in my mind that he wholeheartedly accepts you, Nia. As for our current predicament,” he sighed, indicating the catatonic Hadwin, “I may have an idea.”
Putting charcoal to paper, Ari started scratching furiously in his sketchbook. An hour later, he lowered the book on his lap and dipped a clean cloth in a basin of water to scrub off the black stains that had accumulated on his fingers. “Pass this to Mister Kavanagh, if you will.” When Nia received the torn-out page, it became evident why Ari had diligently devoted time to his latest spark of inspiration. Embedded on the page was a facsimile of Teselin in portrait, her dark hair shaded to a shine and a crinkle in her coal-black eyes as a conservative smile touched her round, youthful face. Owing to his fatigued hand, the sketch was rougher than he would have liked, but a no less compelling simulacrum, replete with the three-dimensional realism his sketches typically embodied. Despite being drawn from memory, it was an accurate enough rendering as to remove all doubt about who was depicted on the page.
The moment Nia displayed the portrait in front of Hadwin, his glazed eyes widened at the likeness, and a shaky hand reached out to pluck the paper from Nia’s outstretched fingers. Clarity flickered his numbed expression to life. His lips moved, stretched, as if massaging muscles that had for the last two days gone untended.
“Do you know who this is, Hadwin?” Ari called from the next bed over, carefully watching as some semblance of the faoladh whirred to conscious awareness.
Hadwin’s mouth chewed and his eyebrows bunched together, as if searching for his faculty of speech. Though he failed to find it, something inaudible formed on his lips. A word. No, a name. And Ari knew exactly what he was trying to say.
Teselin.
Later that evening, Alster dragged himself inside the sanctuary, sweat-soaked and looking like a freshly risen corpse revived by the necromancer. “I am…here,” he slurred, catching his tentative balance against the wall with every uncoordinated step. “How is…Hadwin?”
“Lord Rigas, do get some rest.” Ari sat up in bed, almost chastising. “You are of no use to us in such a state. Besides, you will find we have the situation well in hand.” He gestured to Hadwin, who was busy drawing scribbles and other nonsense pictures in Ari’s sketchbook. While no longer catatonic, he didn’t appear to have regained much, if any lucidity aside from when he mouthed the summoner’s name earlier. “He can perform basic activities—mainly drawing—but he remains nonverbal and requires assistance to eat and to alleviate his bowels. Please spare the remainder of your energy,” he reiterated.“You have expended enough of your finite resources. We shall care for the wolf-man in your stead.”
“But I…I made a promise.” Alster blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision. “To Bronwyn. I must…”
“—If you still identify as D’Marian, Lord Rigas, then I am afraid I must take authoritative measures.” Ari shot Alster an uncompromising glare. “Go to bed. When you have received adequate sleep, only then may you return. Heed this command.”
Fortunately, the normally stubborn Alster Rigas was more suggestible as a shambling, quasi-mindless being, and he made no further argument as he nodded and headed out the door.
“I hate to ask this of you, Nia, and you do not seem to mind—as I am constantly reminded,” he managed a smirk, understanding her restless nature, “but could you accompany Lord Rigas to his chambers? Make certain he goes there, and not to tend to some poor fool elsewhere.”
The following day, Nico returned to the sanctuary, as promised, to report on the latest developments around Galeyn. He noticed Hadwin, who, awake, was busy drawing a mass collection of tiny, concentric circles in Ari’s sketchbook, the bottom half of which had already succumbed to a solid slab of charcoal black.
“Restoration efforts have begun in earnest at the villages affected by the fire,” Nico began, redirecting his attention to Ari and Nia. “All citizens have been accounted for, thanks in large part to the efforts of Bronwyn Kavanagh. Your sister,” he acknowledged Hadwin, who didn’t look up from the sketchbook. “In total, seventeen people have sustained injuries—a few third-degree burns…but fortunately, no deaths. Apart from the crown and the Canaveris inner circle,” he gestured to Nia, “everyone believes the fire started from an act of nature. Granmama thinks it best we do not correct their suppositions, else the arsonist will suffer a hefty sentencing from the crown. Of course, Her Grace will be granted the final say if she reveals the true cause of fire and pursues legal action.”
Following his nephew’s helpful recapitulation of current events, Ari thanked him, then cocked his head with curiosity at the small bundle in his hand. “What do you have there?”
“Oh, this?” Unwrapping the bundle, Nico revealed a deck of playing cards. “En route to the sanctuary, I had a run-in with Miss Tivia. She handed me this deck and suggested we introduce it to Mister Kavanagh in hopes of lifting his spirits. I know little in the way of card games, so here.” He offered the set to Nia, but mid-exchange, a few cards spilled from the neatly-stacked pile and fell upon Hadwin’s bed. But only one appeared face-up. Lifting his gaze from his circle-centric masterpiece, Hadwin noticed the card, six black spades upon a white backdrop, and dropped the charcoal in his hand. As before, his eyes grew wide, but instead of reaching for it as he did the portrait Ari had drawn of Teselin, he did something only the summoner had ever seen him do. He curled his soot-stained fingers over his eyes and wept, his reaction so visceral, his entire body seized and convulsed from the force of his soundless heaving.
“Mmm… no, I can’t say I ever took much to alcohol, I’m afraid. Of course, as a boy, I did try to drown out the dead with wine or ale a few times, but it never became a habit because it never worked.” Vitali shrugged, but didn’t appear to judge Tivia either way. He had had his fair share of unhealthy coping mechanisms, and perhaps his selfish ‘the-end-justifies-the-means’ perspective in life had stemmed from them. Everyone had their demons; he had simply learned from his own as opposed to seeking to vanquish them, because they never went away. “But you are currently ruminating on what-ifs; and those are demons that wine won’t always adequately vanquish. What will is acceptance of where you are, where we are, and where Isidor is. He is, after all, a Kristeva, Tivia. And we Kristevas have never been destined for what we would consider ‘true happiness’.”
Whether or not Vitali himself was insinuating that he was just as unhappy as Isidor remained unclear, especially when he appeared so nonchalant about his current circumstances and did appear to take joy in some aspects of life (or whatever semblance of it was left for him.) But it was both a bold and shocking thing to admit that he had never expected things to turn out well for himself, for Teselin, for Isidor: even for his own birth mother, wherever and whatever the essence of Solenice Kristeva was. ‘Perhaps I thought such was more obvious than it really is; for that, I apologize for allowing you to be misled by a future that was never entirely possible with my brother. But I hope, in knowing this, you can take solace in realizing that the path he is choosing to travel is in no way your fault. You did not fail or mislead him, regardless of what the stars have told you or what information they withheld--and, I daresay, you yourself are far from lost. At least,”
The necromancer turned away from where he had been staring out the window to refocus his violet eyes on the distraught star seer. “That is what I believe. My brother may be destined for misery for the rest of his life, but somehow, I don’t see that for you. So enjoy your wine, but don’t despair. I feel, were it not for your brief involvement in Isidor’s life… he might be all the worse off than he is now. Whether or not he might agree.”
“You’ll be of no use to anyone if you’re dead.” The words that slipped from Sigrid’s lips were jarring and abrupt, enough that it seemed to grab Bronwyn’s attention. “It’s common advice among the Dawn Guard, to try and discourage heroic albeit selfish acts from any individual warrior. We--sorry… they work as a team, rely on one another for help so that they do not burn out like a flame in the rain. Currently, they are advising those who have been at work for twenty-four hours or more to stop and rest. Working in shifts is the safest and most efficient way to be of service. You don’t feel it now because you’re running on adrenaline, but that won’t last, and you’ll collapse. And at that point, you won’t be of help to anyone; on the contrary, you will become a burden. Someone else for them to take care of, because you didn’t know when to stop.”
Without asking, the blonde warrior took one of the heavy jugs of water from Bronwyn’s shoulders and balanced it on one of her own. “You had asked about joining their ranks; the Dawn Guard. So, let’s talk to them; to Roen. See if it is something that would meet your needs. It seems to me that you want to be challenged, and you want to be busy, which is exactly something that they can offer. Let’s deliver this water, and then go.” She couldn’t believe what she was suggesting: when Bronwyn had first expressed interest in joining the Dawn Guard, Sigrid had panicked, knowing that it meant she would have to face Roen again if she wanted to put in a good word for the Kavanagh woman. Speaking face to face with that man, after she had so abruptly abandoned his cause, still made her sick to her stomach to think about, but if it would allow Bronwyn the outlet she needed while under the care of her fellow Dawn Warriors… then it was worth the discomfort.
“You want purpose, Bronwyn; that’s it, isn’t it? Then surround yourself with people who can help you be strong for your brother.”
Seeing Nico so despondent and without hope, all over the fact that he felt as though he had lost the chance for a meaningful sort of relationship with Teselin, was… touching to Nia. The Master Alchemist hadn’t tried to read too much into what was going on between Ari’s nephew and the young summoner, but it was clear to her now that Nico’s secret involvement in Teselin’s life had more to do than a desire to disobey his uncle out of some teenage rebellious streak. He really liked her; the way her absence affected him revealed as much. Teselin had needed a friend her age, someone aside from Hadwin who liked her--not for her magic, not in spite of it, but just for being her. And Nico had needed the freedom to be understood. They were good for one another.
“Nico.” When the boy turned his back and prepared to leave, Nia spoke up again to grab his attention. “Since Teselin is still here… you can draw her to you, you know. Even if you can’t see, or can’t hear her, doesn’t mean she won’t cross your path. When you’re doing something the both of you enjoyed, there’s a good chance she’ll be there. When I helped her get ready for the ball… I noticed a painting she kept near her bed. A vibrant lightning storm, not in the style of Ari’s art or anyone else’s I’m aware of. It was something she felt was important to her. Special. Why don’t you…” Her lips curled into a smile. “Create some more paintings, once your grandmother relieves you of your duties. Perhaps that will draw Teselin to you. Maybe she’ll even inspire you… it’s worth a try.”
Ari’s nephew did not leave the sanctuary particularly uplifted, but Nia had an inkling that between her words and Ari’s, perhaps he despaired a little bit less. And that was a positive step forward. “Yeah… I’m sure saving your life has something to do with the kid’s change of heart toward me.” The Ardane woman agreed sleepily. Her energy was still returning only in short spurts at a time, and was so quickly used up she continued to crash back into sleep for hours at a time. “Although, I did also make an effort to try and understand him. That’s all kids really want at the end of the day… is to be understood. And I helped Tes; someone else he cares about. I guess you can say… I’ve been on track to your nephew’s good graces for a while, now. But…” She averted her gaze between Ari and Hadwin, and wondered at what the Canaveris lord had dreamed up as a solution to the faoladh’s current catatonic state. “What did you have in mind?”
He didn’t respond immediately, but grabbed his sketchbook next to his bed and began to draw. Nia was well aware of how the Canaveris lord often fell into a state of keen hyperfocus when he pursued his artistic zeals, and as such, fell silent and back into slumber to the sound of charcoal scraping against parchment. Approximately an hour later, she was gently nudged awake; Ari had completed his endeavour. “You’ve made something for Hadwin…?” Nia stretched sleepily and took the sketch delicately into her hand. Sure enough, it was a perfect rendition of Teselin, right down to the micro-expressions her face often betrayed. Ari had quite the eye for accuracy when it came to replicating someone’s appearance, even if he had only seen them a handful of times. “Damn… that’s good. You really got her right, Ari. This is Tes if I’ve ever seen her. Look, Hadwin.” The Master Alchemist held out the piece of paper in front of the faoladh’s eyes. “I think you’ll want to see this.”
Sure enough, something shifted in the wolf man’s yellow eyes. He lifted a hand to take the piece of paper from Nia, and his face immediately betrayed what was unmistakably recognition. Whether or not he could put a name to the face he recognized was unclear, but what was clear was that Ari’s rendition of one of the most important people in the faoladh’s life had reached him. Caused a crack in the stone in which he had encased himself, since learning of the young summoner’s uncanny disappearance. “...it’s Tes, Hadwin. Teselin. Ari made this for you, so it’s yours to keep.” Nia smiled, relieved at the hint of recognition glimmering in her friend’s eyes. Leave it to Ari to create art that moved people beyond their pain and despair. “Keep it close, Hadwin. Keep Tes close. She’s making her way back to you and Nico, I just know it. Piece by piece. You’re gonna see her again, just like she looks in that picture.”
That sketch finally opened something in Hadwin that had been closed since Sigrid and Alster had brought him to the sanctuary. While he was still so far from himself, the obnoxious wolf man that they all knew (and, for the most part, couldn’t help but love), Ari’s sketch had inspired him to draw. He was doing something, even if it wasn’t quite enough to be considered functional. But at least it was some news to impart to Alster when he arrived later that evening, looking sweaty and absolutely spent.
“...Alster?” A sleepy Nia frowned at the state the Rigas mage was in: sweating, his knees trembling, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. And, perhaps, he hadn’t. “Why are you here…? We’re looking out for Hadwin. He’s improved a little; Ari drew him a picture of Teselin. He’s been better ever since. You look like…” She raised an eyebrow and straightened her posture from where she sat on her cot. “Like you shouldn’t be here. Like you should be in bed. Why the hell, Alster, aren’t you in bed? You’re in even less shape to be running about that me and Ari, and that’s saying something.”
The upside to Alster’s exhaustion was that the Rigas mage was too tired to argue with Ari, who, given his position, did have some leave to pull rank and give this sort of an order with the expectation that it would be followed. Alster turned his back and obliged, but not long before Ari asked for a bit of insurance that the Rigas mage followed through. Tired though she was, Nia lit up at the opportunity to leave the sanctuary for longer than it took to heed the call of nature, for once. “You can count on me. I’ll bring him straight to his wife; she’ll see to it that he goes to bed and stays there for a few days. If you’re bored… maybe consider doodling another likeness of Tes. One where she’s incredibly happy; like the way you’d see her around Nico.” She picked up a piece of parchment that Hadwin had scribbled on; the back was still clear of charcoal and a perfect canvas for another portrait. Kissing him on the cheek, she slipped on her boots and stepped out the door.
Alster hadn’t gotten far before the Master Alchemist caught up. “Hey--you’ve looked better, pal. So have I, so I guess that makes us quite the pair, huh?” Nia chuckled as she sidled up next to him. “I’m supposed to make sure you actually go and get some rest without getting distracted. I think I’m good enough to get as far as the palace… I’ll just catch a ride back to the Night Garden on a night steed.”
The Rigas mage didn’t seem immediately receptive of the idea, either because he was in denial of his own levels of exhaustion, or concerned that she shouldn’t be covering such a distance on foot so soon. But, the two of them were safer with company than wandering on their own, so he didn’t put up a protest. “...Hads is gonna be okay, you know. He’s not gone--just a little lost. Like Teselin. But I just… have a feeling it’s all going to work out, you know? For the better. We just have to be patient. Just wait it out…”
It was a long walk back to the palace, for the both of them, and Nia didn’t have the capacity to hide her exhaustion. She and Alster were a sorry sight to see by the time they reached the tall, alabaster pillars of Galeyn’s palace, and were greeted shortly after their arrival by Alster’s wife.
“Damnit… I’ve been looking for you! Alster, you need to stop.” Elespeth Rigas both seethed and lamented, caught between a deluge of every possibly strong emotion. “Get into bed and rest, you can’t keep this up… Nia?” It was a solid moment before the Rigas woman even took note of the company that her husband kept. “Are you even supposed to be mobile yet? Wait here--don’t you care move. I’ll send someone to take you back to the sanctuary.”
“Don’t worry, El. Don’t think these legs are going anywhere fast.” Nia quipped, watching as Elespeth slung Alster’s arm around her shoulders and disappeared with him around a corner. To save her own strength, Nia pressed her back to the palace wall and sunk down to the floor to take her weight off her legs. Her back and neck were damp with perspiration, and that stroll from the Night Garden had taken more out of her than when she had fled for her life during Locque’s final tirade. She wasn’t in any state to deny help, and whoever Elespeth chose to send, the Master Alchemist would put up no fight, and gracefully take admonishment for leaving the sanctuary against the advice of the Gardeners.
Low blood-sugar and muscle aches sent speckles of colour dancing in Nia’s vision, and she almost didn’t notice the individual matching the footsteps drawing closer to her general location. “...Isidor.” The Kristeva Alchemist also didn’t appear to notice Nia until she said his name. He slowed his pace, pausing in step. Over his shoulder, a bag that seemed very heavy hung from one hand, and his free hand was wrapped and appeared alarmingly swollen. He didn’t make eye contact with Nia; didn’t say something sardonic or express concern for her weakened state. He did not wear his spectacles. He seemed… different. Enough that it gave Nia cause for worry.
“...Is, I know about Tes. Her disappearance is taking its toll on the people who care for her. But you know… you must know, she’s still here. She’s not gone. You can feel her when she drifts on the wind…”
“I don’t recall asking for your input, Nia. Goodday.” Isidor cut her off with a brisk, albeit emotionless tone. For some reason, it struck her harder than his harsh words of disdain in the past. Something was wrong; something had shifted in the kind, albeit damaged Master Alchemist that hadn’t been present just days before.
With every ounce of her dwindling strength, Nia managed to reach out and grab the hem of Isidor’s tunic before he could walk off. “...whatever you’re thinking,” she breathed desperation in her voice, “don’t, Is. Don’t… give up so soon.”
Isidor made no reply this time. With a swift tug of his garment, he wordlessly continued on his way, and disappeared down a corridor, leaving Nia alone again. And intuition told her that this could be the last time she saw him, one of the 2 people who had made Ari’s dramatic transformation possible, for a long time.
One of the Forbanne escorted the Ardane woman back to the Night Garden by carriage, seeing that she safely made it back inside the sanctuary. She made it back to her bed, no harm done, save for feeling the exhaustion in every cell of her body. When Ari asked if Alster had made it back safely as well, she offered a quiet nod, but said nothing else for a solid moment as she tried to process what had happened, and exactly what she was going to tell Ari, who had grown closer to Isidor these past weeks.
“I saw Isidor. Very briefly. He… Ari,” Nia sighed and reached across her cot to take the Canaveris lord’s hand in her own. “...I don’t think we’re going to see him again. Not for a long time. He is… he seems different. And, I can only assume it’s because of… well, you know.” It needn’t be said that he took news of his sister’s disappearance especially poorly. “I’m… I’m sorry. We both owe him so much, and I know… you were growing rather close to him. I’m so sorry.”
At least there was some good news to lean on the next day. Nico returned with news that no lives had been lost to the fire, and that the injured were being cared for and would make a solid recovery. He also had a gift, it seemed, for Hadwin: a deck of playing cards, that Tivia Rigas had suggested he pass on to the tortured faoladh. “Cards? Well, Hadwin always did have a knack for gambling. Did a hell of a lot better at it when I helped him cheat--eh, buddy?” Nia smirked and gently nudged Hadwin’s shoulder. “We’ve gotta get back into that when we’re both healthy again. I haven’t done any drinking and gambling in a dog’s age, and no one can keep up with how much I can knock back except you. Well… provided my tolerance survived all of the bullshit this kingdom has gone through, huh?”
However, the deck of cards did not have the intended reaction Nico had hoped for when they spilled in front of him. Hadwin began sobbing, real tears flooding his cheeks, his breathing erratic and unable to be controlled. “Hads… hey, Hadwin.” Stricken with concern, Nia put her hands on Hadwin’s shoulders, as Ari scrambled to fetch a handkerchief and hand it to the Master Alchemist to dry the shapeshifter’s tears. “Tivia gave those to you? With good intentions?” She asked Nico, hoping the young man hadn’t been played by the star seer. But it didn’t add up for Tivia Rigas to add salt to anyone’s wounds; not after everything this kingdom had endured. Were these tears a good thing? Would they open up the shell in which Hadwin had encased himself, and set him on the journey back to himself, and back to those who cared for him?
Bronwyn thrived on overwork. The kind that reduced your muscles to tallow the next morning, strung up over a rod to harden its waxy substance into candle readiness. Light the wick, burn her down to nubs, and repeat the process anew. Toiling without fuss at Clan Kavanagh never afforded her a chance to question why Chief gave her the most labor-intensive tasks above every other faoladh. Living under a collective where her society emphasized the role they were assigned to play, it seemed an unbalanced model to receive the majority of the grunt work and granted precious little free time for herself. More often than not, the vicissitudes of the day left her too exhausted to pursue a life outside of tedium and rule-upholding. She used to resent her siblings for their lax lifestyle, free of tilling vegetable gardens, dressing fresh game, rethatching roofs, and caulking gaps and cracks in loose timber. But now…she viewed it as liberating. Without routine, without a purpose or a community to which she belonged, Bronwyn, left to her own devices, was a mess, replete with existential crises, issues with identity, and unsteady goals. She didn’t like the person she had become in the years following her voluntary and temporary expulsion from Clan Kavanagh; abhorred this ‘other’ being that resided outside of herself, a foreigner who couldn’t trust anyone, let alone her own faulty senses. Her Sight painted a jarring picture of the world, one that contradicted her current reality, and she didn’t know where she fit, or if she could fit.
On the other hand, working for a cause that didn’t require her conscious participation, only her muscles and ability to follow directions…was more than doable.
“I am working as a team,” she said, staring blankly behind Sigrid’s head. “This is how it was done in my clan. Everyone plays a part; some parts are more laborious than others. I don’t mind what I’ve been tasked to do. I don’t burn out. I don’t collapse—and I’m definitely not prancing around like I’m some hero. I’m doing a job. Nothing more.” Her mouth parted in annoyance as Sigrid removed a jug from her left shoulder, unsteadying her balance as she had to shift her opposite foot forward to redistribute the weight. “I am no burden,” she snapped, the closest to an emotional reaction she’d shown since seeing Hadwin’s sorry, singed state at the sanctuary. “My brother is the burden. No–madness is the burden, and I am not mad.”
She almost left Sigrid on that final note and harrumphed away to where she was needed most, but the blonde warrior mentioned the Dawn Guard, and her ears perked with interest. They had planned to pay Roen a visit weeks ago, but both had gotten cold feet. Bronwyn couldn’t exactly speak for Sigrid’s reasons, but on her end, she worried too much about Hadwin and his vacillating sanity to make the commitment. But with Teselin now unavailable to soothe his tumultuous, fire-ravaged mind, it fell on other people to pick up the slack. Considering these events, the timing could not be any worse to enlist in a battalion of elite soldiers. Any minute, she might lose him. Nia, Ari, Alster, Elespeth, and countless others were holding vigil over him, but they were a temporary balm; no force on earth aside from the summoner could remove him from the precipice where cliff met raging sea. He would have plummeted in Apelrade’s churning, storm-brewed waters if not for Teselin, and without her guidance, he looked about to plummet again—this time, for good.
If that were the case, then what did it matter, pausing her life for his sake? Hadwin would hate it if she squandered opportunities for his benefit. He would want her…to live.
“Fine,” she conceded, making it a point to look at everything but her. “We’ll deliver the water…and only if there’s nothing else for me to do here, we’ll go. Does that work for you?”
Seeing Nia half-hobble out of the sanctuary to follow Alster almost made Ari rescind his initial request. Barely two days into recovery, she was less than equipped to embark on long treks to and from the palace without adequate accommodations. However, he understood, better than most, the necessity of striving toward normalcy as soon as possible. Spending a handful of days a year bedridden had equipped Ari with the desire and passion to expedite his rate of convalescence, and the determination to succeed had offloaded onto people trapped in similar situations. He genuinely wished others the same positive trajectory for recovery, and if he could contribute to the trajectory, all the better. Perhaps that was why he took an inverted interest in Hadwin Kavanagh, a man who…rankled him, to put it lightly.
On a more personal level, his heart also went out to his nephew, who, while not beset with health issues or concerns, was troubled by events, the extent to which he no longer felt capable of hiding his pain. He openly expressed his distress, in front of Nia no less, someone who, mere weeks ago, he’d rather die than choose to confide in. And yet, when she spoke to him hours earlier, he listened to her, hanging on and absorbing her every word, until…
She mentioned his art, and he flinched as if struck in the face. Immediately his cheeks had reddened as if she actually had marked him with a slap, and he shuffled away from the sanctuary, too mortified to look either of them in the eye or express a proper goodbye. Ari hadn’t the chance to inquire as to Nia’s meaning before he was swept up in his own artistic endeavors, and between caring for Hadwin, corresponding with Nadira via resonance stone, and looking after his own wellness needs, he’d forgotten to broach the subject with her.
Just when Ari was beginning to worry if Nia had collapsed en route to the palace, she returned, looking a little worse for wear, but for the most part, intact. “There you are,” he looked up from his latest sketch, a charcoal-rendered expression of elation etched on Teselin’s youthful features, per Nia’s request. “I was beginning to worry. Do sit down and rest. My apologies for making you exert yourself prematurely. Be that as it may, I am relieved to hear of Lord Rigas’s safe conveyance to his rooms. You have my gratitude and thanks.” Picking up his charcoal, he returned to his portrait, but Nia hadn’t finished her report, and the next piece of information stilled his hand and sank it leaden, as if afflicted by a sudden flare-up. In a panic, he checked his hand, fearing his curse was having a recurrence, but obsessive analysis of his skin and finger dexterity—flesh came away pliant and springy, digits stiff but not stone-stiff—turned out to be a false alarm. His sigh mixed with both relief and dismay.
“That is…disheartening news amid a sea of continuous setbacks and grief,” he managed, curling his fever-warm fingers over Nia in response. “I could institute a search for him, but it is not as if he is beholden to Galeyn or to me. He is free to leave, even if others do not find it wise, given his fractured state of mind. Alas, no one can force his will. For months, he has expressed an open desire to return to his tower in Nairit. Perhaps that is where he is headed.” But even as he said those words, his lips pursed with doubt. “I am afraid all we can do is wish him well, and hope he finds absolution on whatever path he treads. I have faith we shall see him again, and when we do, we shall pay his generosity with interest. All that aside, I, too, am sorry, Nia.” He lifted her hand, pressing it against his chest. “I understand the two of you were just beginning to resolve your differences and get along. It is devastating to hear how he felt he could not receive the support he needs among friends. Does,” he inclined his head, curious, “Lord Rigas know? I imagine the news will shatter him.”
The following morning arrived, and not without its own surprises. Nico’s impromptu, secondhand gift produced a landslide of unintended effects when Hadwin, previously occupied by the sketchbook and charcoal, rejected the activity in favor of one particular gaming card tumbling into his hand—and everything snowballed from that point forward. The faoladh recoiled so violently from the innocuous sight of the six painted spades that Ari half-wondered if he was reacting to something else entirely. Something unseen, or prevalent only in his fear-dominant mind. Then came the silent sobs, the shoulders racked with convulsions so great, he looked about to break his bones and shift into a wolf. Instead, he perched on all fours, clutching the card to his chin as if willing it, wishing it, to grant him a miracle. Regardless of one’s views on the divisive faoladh, one could not watch his desperate, despairing plight without feeling tugged with immense pity for the poor creature.
As Ari passed along his handkerchief and Nia climbed into bed with the hope of wrenching Hadwin free of his feral anguish, Nico stood by, helpless amid the tumult of such acute, tempestuous torment, afraid it might sweep him into the surf and break him upon the rocks if he ventured too close. He started at Nia, misinterpreting her question for accusation. “I didn’t know this would happen,” he insisted, yanking on his sleeves. “Miss Tivia claimed the cards would help him recover! She vanished before I could inquire further. I’m sorry!”
“You did nothing wrong, Nico, rest assured,” Ari soothed as he rose from bed and eased Hadwin into a posture best for relieving pressure off his diaphragm when lung-bruised coughs overtook and replaced his sobs. “It appears as though he is reacting to that specific card. Whatever its meaning, it holds great significance to him. Perhaps it reminds him of Miss Teselin.”
“Oh. Yes. Perhaps…perhaps so,” Nico nodded, releasing his sleeves. “Hadwin,” he hesitated, doubtful if the faoladh had the capacity to hear, “you are in a storm. It is dark, the wind thrashes, lightning splits your skull, and your lungs fill with water. You are in a storm, but Teselin is the storm, hidden in the clouds, and she will clear the skies. You must hang on, Hadwin,” tears dashed down his cheeks. “We both must, if we wish to see her again, resplendent in sunlight. Let the storm pass, for it will pass. I know that it will pass.”
Hadwin’s coughs subsided, his sobs reducing to a hiccup. Had he been…listening?
“Nico…” Ari fixed a stunned gaze on his nephew, but a smile touched his lips. “That was beautiful. I may have just the thing to accompany your sentiment.” Releasing his hands from Hadwin, who had resorted to panting through his shallow lungs, Ari pulled out a sheet of paper from his nightstand and presented it to Nico. “This is for you.” A portrait. Of the Teselin he remembered seeing once, a rare cloudless day when the sun shone yellow as a buttercup on her face. Her onyx eyes captured the star and repurposed its light for her smile. The message spoke clearly of hope, but before the hope overtook him, Nico showed the picture to Hadwin, who had recovered his second wind. “See? She is here. Waiting to burst free. And we shall be here when she flowers, yes?”
Hadwin stared at the portrait, transfixed, before producing one of his own from within the folds of his borrowed sketchbook. He held it to the light. It trembled in his hand. Another Teselin, another aspect rescued from the unseeing realm where she wandered.
“Ah, so you have one as well. Then I hope you do not mind if I keep this one,” he pointed to the one in his hand. Hadwin nodded, as if he understood. Awareness seemed to reside again in his golden eyes. He picked up a charcoal stick and drew in his sketchbook…clouds. Rows upon rows of interlocked clouds, shaped like spades. Despite himself, Nico tilted a smile. “Perhaps we should paint Teselin something special. A collaborative effort, between you and me. I think she would like that very much.”
“That is a lovely idea, Nico,” Ari inputted, watching the wholesome scene unfold while reaching for Nia’s hand. “I shall inform the palace staff to bring a canvas and paints to the sanctuary posthaste. I would love to see more of your art. The truest expression of your art, as it is intended to be viewed and appreciated. Will you show me? Show…us?”
Nico’s cheeks turned a burnished scarlet. Unsure of how to respond, he merely nodded, and the tears glistened anew in his eyes.
Never promise what you can’t predict, Vitali. I might not see my destiny, but I know it well.
After her encounter with Nico Canaveris in the Night Garden, Tivia marched to Alster and Elespeth’s quarters next. Since her drunken binge, the majority of which she spent in Vitali’s chambers passed out on his bed, she awoke, purged her throbbing headache with a special, foul-smelling brew fished from the palace kitchens, and cleaned herself up, finger by finger, limb by limb, until she began to resemble some semblance of the mysterious star-seer everyone was expecting. Affixing her eyepatch, plaiting her blonde hair around her head in a tidy bun, and donning more black attire—always black—she was ready to begin her day as resident doomsayer and bearer of misfortunes.
Alster answered her summons, with Elespeth not far behind him. Her cousin retained his bleary-eyed exhaustion, but with an adequate night’s rest, it appeared less pronounced, and he had about himself a demonstrative air of lucidity. Good. Better for receiving bitter news.
“Tivia.” He pushed his bedhead of hair out of his eyes and looked across the threshold at her. “Is something the matter?”
“That is the appropriate question to ask whenever I’m involved,” she said, approving his acknowledgment of her often unsavory vocation. “Yes, there is something of note I would like to share—with the both of you,” she continued, strictly professional. No implied emotion whatsoever. Emotions muddied the message. She would forever choose to remain impartial, whatever her honest thoughts on the matter. “Isidor left Galeyn last night. Do not expect his prompt return any time in the future.”
Unsurprisingly, Alster needed a moment to process her message and its heartbreaking implications “Excuse me—what? He’s…gone? If that’s true, we must stop him!” He grabbed the doorjamb in a bracing hold, as if he’d expelled the remains of his energy on his impassioned plea.
“With all respect, Alster, unless you come to him proposing a strategy to reconstitute his sister from the ether, he will not listen to a word you say, let alone return with you. He’s not going back to Nairit, in any case. Wash your hands of him. The sooner, the better.”
“How…how can you say that?!” A spark of anger surged from the depths of his reserve stores, propelling him forward by a divine push. “He’s my friend. Our friend. Did your relationship mean nothing to you?! Did you not love him?!”
“My love life is not up for discussion, Alster. Besides, that was twenty-five years ago,” she said dismissively, but a stitch appeared in her brow. “I’m just reporting the facts and dispensing a little advice. Feel free to ignore me and chase after him, but I know you’re aware, deep down, that I’m right. No one can stop him unless by force. Let him figure this out on his own. He needs to. I make no claims that he will be alright, but,” she sighed, the barest emotion she dared make, “was he ever alright, even among his friends in Galeyn? Isidor generates his own misery. He doesn’t know how to be happy. So let him go out there and fuck up his own life. It’s what he wants. Maybe the entire ordeal will slap some much-needed sense into him. Rest assured, you’ll see him again. This path won’t kill him…but that is the only promise I can make.”
“I…can’t accept that. You know I can’t accept that.” Bursting out of the door, Alster hurried down the corridor, bridging distance between Tivia and Elespeth. “There’s been too much loss. Too much sorrow. Something needs to give. This can’t keep happening. I’ll slap sense into him now; I don’t care if I have to drag him off the road by his feet to do it!”
Tivia, who couldn’t interpret what Alster was muttering with his back turned, read the gist of his words through his body language. But she did not pursue. Talking people down from her own prognostications and insights presented a conflict of interest; also, she didn’t have the patience for it. Instead, she turned to Elespeth. “You better curb your husband before he finds Isidor and strangles him to death. We both know he’s capable.
