We spent the next few days cleaning up the Dead in Novakrayu. Those who'd recently died and were buried came back, upturning graves and menacing the streets, dragging out our search and destruction efforts longer than I had previously expected. But it wasn't just the city proper that proved an issue—indeed, the land around us was scattered with them as far as Kubalak in the south. Thankfully, the Targul took up responsibility for hunting stray Shells in the plains and forests around us. It seemed the aftereffects of Eudoxia's sacrifice were limited in scope, for Sorcery was only slightly disturbed in the region.

The White Order kept to their camp except for the sentinel and a few others, who joined Emalia in the city for their research. Because of the significant losses to the temple, both from the attack and our earlier skirmishes, the clergy of the city was quite diminished. Additionally, those in power, like Wracen, were conflicted about the future, given all the recent events. Emalia's sharing of the truth about the Deus religion didn't help either, for even if there were few believers here, the ramifications resonated with the more skeptically minded of the priests.

People were doubting their own faith more and more. This, with the attritioned numbers, led to a slow collapse in the temple's authority and responsibilities, and at a time when the city needed them.

So, it was only sensible for Emalia to step up. She'd been preaching before with great success, and continued to do so when not working with the sentinel. Emalia would stand on a cart emptied of bread handed out to the poor, for the temple was damaged and in repair, and spoke on softer matters of theology. A strange blend between her religion and an abstract spirituality, all hinting at an unidentified power behind the Soul. She spoke of how one's love could protect them, how one's sense of duty could shield them, and how devotion could be a blade against evil, even when all seemed lost.

And, agnostic enough as I was, I had to agree. After what I'd seen Sovina do… The miraculous resistance Emalia had to Sorcery that should have killed her… They both lacked my power and biology, yet were capable of superhuman feats in matters of Sorcery. I couldn't explain it beyond reinforcing the Soul's binding to one's own body, but that never should have worked so effectively. There was more here than I understood, clearly.

Regardless, that was not the most interesting thing about her speeches.

For though I had only gone occasionally, today was my last day in Novakrayu for some time, and I wanted to see her before I left. But as I stood in the crowds, almost ignored as a mere bystander watching on, I noticed Sentinel Starvast toward the rear of the crowd, not far from myself.

I walked over and stood beside him.

He glanced over to me with a slight frown on his lips.

He was hoping to sneak in, I thought, noticing the lack of armor and identifying attire. Curious.

"The people here talk about her," he said quietly. The crowds were silent, watching on almost breathlessly. We did our best to blend in. "I had to see for myself."

"I understand."

"I do not agree with her, but she is persuasive."

I cocked my head in thought, watching him out of the corner of my eye. "You are open-minded for a leader of priestly warriors."

"A mark of weakness to some," he said.

"Only the ignorant and weak-minded fear change." I took a deep breath of the cool morning air. "And the fearful. We can all be fearful."

"What do you fear, Daecinus?"

He did not mean it as an insult. I opened my mouth to answer him, 'defeat,' but paused. Was that the truth? The whole truth? "I fear that for all my effort, sacrifice, and struggle, it just won't be enough, and I will have let the closest to me down. I will have let my people down." My missing hand ached, and the urge to curl the phantom limb into a fist left the rest of my arm sore. I thought of the past months. The past year. I had grown for the better, hadn't I? "And I am now coming to learn that I also fear letting myself down."

"An honest answer. I can appreciate that." He nodded firmly. "I, too, fear failing myself through my ideals. When I was younger, I might have taken this opportunity to bypass our agreement with violence." His hands were at his sides, head forward, lip twisted in disgust. At himself? "But I was afraid then, and not just of failure. But of being wrong."

"Have you found truth in Emalia's research?" I asked, somewhat taken aback.

"She is persuasive, but we have just begun. There is much left to do."

"I see."

"I understand you are departing today?"

I stared longingly eastward to the sea. I was excited to go back to New Petha and see Demetria. To get to work preparing my people there. And maybe to do more to bind them together as one. "I am. But I will return."

"I know." He resumed watching Emalia as she began to finish, wrapping up the arguments delivered through stories and metaphors. "Farewell, Daecinus. I know you will not forget our agreement."

It was not a threat, as I could have interpreted it, but an honest statement. How could a zealot be so reasonable? I thought in amazement and some shame. Maybe I gave others too little credit. But in a world of chaos and madness, it sometimes seemed judicious to assume only a small minority were reasonable after all.

I found Emalia afterward. She was being thanked by people moved with emotion. And when she spoke with confidence and precision upon the cart to the many, these smaller interactions revealed an awkwardness I found endearing. Sovina stood close by, so I approached her as she watched over her… partner? That is what I had referred to them as in my head. Hm.

"All this time, and I don't believe you've made anything official between you two," I said with a small smile, rubbing my chin in mock consideration. "When will you ask her to be your—"

Sovina was less entertained. "That's what you want to talk about before leaving?"

"It is an important step, Sovina."

She snorted. "Important to you, apparently."

"Am I so wrong for wishing my friends happiness?"

"Well, it's complicated," she muttered, crossing her arms. "We can't always be open about it in certain places."

"We're not in Vasia anymore, much less near the Column. Few care here, particularly when you are regarded as heroes."

"One of us is, at least." She looked at Emalia with a gleam in her eye. Pride, joy, and, clearly, love. Oh yes, a vague partnership was plainly insufficient.

"What about marriage?" I asked.

Sovina's face grew red. A curious, entertaining look. "Eh? Huh. Right." She looked away. "Well, what about you and Demetria? I never hear you say 'husband' or 'wife'? So does that mean you're unhappy?"

"Our kind have deeper bonds," I replied, still smiling. "Marriage was considered a fashion of the lower classes. However, we did have a ritual to mark and celebrate the bond. I suppose the ritual was, in all fairness, akin to that of a wedding, in a way." I poked her shoulder, leaning in. "But you are not Pethyan. You are Vasian. Running around the world was a decent excuse, but now we are paused, and you have a welcoming city to celebrate it."

She groaned and shook her head. Sovina loved Emalia, that much I knew, but what she did not love was exceptionally public displays of affection and celebration. "Go find your ship."

I chuckled and embraced her. She was stiff as a spear, but then I felt her relax and ease, arms tentatively wrapping around my back. "Thank you, Daecinus," she said. "I know… I know that Protis was important to you, but I'm grateful for their sacrifice. And honored."

I pulled back, smiling with what happiness I could muster. "I know in their final moments, Protis felt the same way."

Sovina chewed her lip, struggling to hold my gaze. "I wanted to bear the burden. I wanted to protect, but… When I think about leaving her alone… What kind of selfishness is that?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I nodded sadly, thinking of all those who depended on me. All those I've saved… and those I've failed. "There are few true victories that involve death." I caught a glimpse of the sentinel slipping away from the crowds. "Sometimes, the foe we must defeat is ourselves."

"You had to do it, Daecinus," Sovina said, her tone adamant.

"Perhaps."

"Daecinus."

I turned to her. She was frowning at me. In the light, her eyes looked grey with patches of a soft blue. They were narrowed slightly, brow creased, lips tight. "I failed her," I said, feeling that old pain twisting about inside me like a serpent writhing to escape. "When we were attacked, I was too weak to protect her. And after, I was too unpersuasive, ignorant, and angry to change her mind. I failed her, Sovina."

"Daecinus, I'm sorry, but that's bullshit."

I turned away, setting my jaw and staring into the distance. "Come. I wish to say goodbye to Emalia as well. My ship will leave shortly."

I hurried to intercept her, leaving Sovina to trail after me. Emalia was happy, energetic, and sentimental, particularly due to the preaching's aftereffects. It seemed highly fulfilling to her, after all. She wished me good luck and made me promise to return soon.

"I'll be but a few months," I replied. "We will come by ship at the beginning of summer."

It was somewhere in the winter, I thought, though these lands were hotter and more humid than I was used to, making the seasons blend together in a blur.

"I know, but still, I want you to visit and not just pass through," she said.

"I must, considering my deal with the White Order."

"Don't worry about that. If there's anyone who can get through to a zealot of the White Order, it is someone who used to be the same." She gave a somewhat sad, reflective smile. "But that's the wonder of change, isn't it? With knowledge comes a new perspective, changing everything so long as you're open to it."

"Wise words from a wise woman."

"Stop." Emalia grinned. "I barely know anything, let alone enough to be wise."

"Don't devalue yourself. You are wise, and I've always appreciated our conversations, for I feel a better man for them, and knowing you." I sighed, feeling pulled toward the sea. "I need to go now. Be safe here."

Emalia embraced me, and now I was put in Sovina's shoes, taken off guard. When we parted, she gave me a beaming smile. "Say hi to Demetria for me. Tell her I expect the same visit out of her."

"I think she would love nothing more than to take a break from her duties holding the isle together." I stepped away, smiling as Emalia rested her head on Sovina's shoulder. And for all her stiffness and supposed uptightness around public displays of affection, Sovina slipped an arm around Emalia as the former priestess waved me goodbye.

They would be just fine. They didn't need my close watch to take care of themselves.

A short while later, I was on one of the few ships leaving Novakrayu for the city of Aurelesar in New Petha. Though we'd taken losses, there were some dedicated sailors to manage the ships' rigging and oars, so there were no issues in returning with the same vessels. I stood, watching the city shrink with Ignatia and Desirdus by my side.

They were the first to greet me months ago here at sea. They both wore fine silk robes, fit with potent Artifacts, and stood with authority and stateliness. Yet they were quite different individuals, bound by their mature competency and loyalty to New Petha. While Desirdus was traditional, cautious, and somewhat detached in his analytical habits, Ignatia relied more on her intuition. However, she had a strength for being almost scientific in her curiosity and open-mindedness toward problems. If not for her, I doubted Desirdus would have supported Eudoxia's plan to push me to the forefront of New Pethan politics with her coup against the High Magistros.

And it was, in part, because of this that I'd spoken with Desirdus about my idea and found him to be of the same mind.

"Ignatia," I said, breaking our somber silence, "you have demonstrated your loyalty, aptitude, and keenness of mind on this journey. We faced difficult odds, and not once did you waver from them. Your expertise in Sorcery is commendable, but I find your mind for problem-solving an even greater strength. Accordingly, I would like to offer you the title of Magistros of Sorcery, of Hubris." My old society's differing titles were hard to shake, and I still disliked the use of the word 'hubris' in this fashion. No matter. "We can officiate it in Aurelesar with all proper ceremony, of course. But I wanted to tell you now."

Ignatia spun to gawk at me. "But… What about Desirdus?" she asked, gesturing to him beside me. "He is far more experienced than I."

"I am old," he replied, smiling fondly. He was something of a mentor for her, being her superior in the fleet for so long. "The position of magistros is for the young."

Ignatia was in her middle years and was quite young by my standards, but perhaps not society's. But then again, even Desirdus was at least fifty years my junior.

"Desirdus is going to be important to have in the field under me as a commander," I said, for he was too humble to admit his strengths. "His role is that of war."

Ignatia took in a deep breath and nodded. "I would be a fool to say no, whatever my reservations. Thank you, High Magistros. I will endeavor to live up to Magistros Eudoxia's legacy."

"And you'll succeed," I replied, placing a hand on her shoulder, squeezing, holding eye contact. "Thank you for believing in me. In my vision. This wouldn't have been possible without you. Not stopping Maecia, not enacting change on the isle—none of it."

"I won't let you down." She stood tall with pride and confidence. A fitting look for her. "I won't let New Petha down."

We parted ways after that, for I secretly wished to be alone, and I supposed Ignatia wanted to celebrate away from the eyes of a superior she wished to impress. Not that we hadn't seen each other's weak sides in the messy weeks prior. We were all humans with our own failings.

I held myself together as best I could in the next few days at sea. For the crew, for my subordinates, for myself… It was difficult to keep the mask on, particularly when I was alone, but I had to. I was the Returned One, High Magistros of Supremacy, and other things that seemed far too lofty. Yet, I had to be strong. I had to be more.

Even when we were welcomed into the city with a subdued, respectful greeting, and I found Demetria waiting for me, regal and beautiful, I managed to retain the front. We walked through the streets, not in celebration, for Maecia was too beloved by many, even considering her recent actions—widely considered a sort of betrayal. I was grateful for this because even if we avoided catastrophe, it hardly felt like something deserving of celebration. Demetria had anticipated this, of course, and planned accordingly, quickly moving through necessary briefings and appearances so that we were left in our chambers alone. She knew me better than I knew myself.

We watched the sun set from our window in our room, sea breeze bringing the scent of salt and brine wafting off the ocean. It reminded me of home. Of Pethya, lost to Corruptive destruction in the far west. I found myself thinking of it less and less these days. Perhaps that was because I'd found a new home, but I doubted it.

I was slowly coming to accept my failures there. Yes, I could have done more, but I was clouded with grief, determined in my own way to make the Grand Observatory work. My failure was understandable. It was... forgiveable.

I held her hand as the sun crept below the horizon.

Demetria did not speak. Neither did I.

All that needed to be said was in the bond between us, whispered through pulses of feeling. Love washed over me like the tide, settling my nerves, easing the tension in my shoulders and neck. But it was a ruse of the body. For a new pain arose, fresh and sharp and tight like iron in the lungs.

I gripped her hand, and she held me as it finally hit. I felt as if I couldn't breathe, as if I couldn't even properly stand, grief smashing me to pieces, dashing me across the rocks.

"I killed her," I whispered, voice strangled. "I killed my own sister."

She held me and spoke through the bond.

I clutched her for support, being pulled down by it all. Drowning. "I failed her, Demetria. I failed her."

Comfort and love met me.

I couldn't face them.

I failed my own sister. My poor, little sister, killed by my own treacherous hand in the bowels of some foreign city. Body burned away in an insufficient funeral hidden from the world.

"I had to do it. I had to. I pushed a knife into her fucking heart and felt it break and she told me she deserved to die. My own sister. Deserved to...? How could she? I should have told her it was okay. I should have said she deserved nothing but joy and love and a brother who could have been better but I didn't. I didn't know what else to do. She killed my fucking friends because I didn't know what else to do. Because I couldn't help. And she knew it. She knew it all along." My whispers ended, dying out as I slumped against her, feeling empty and lifeless, my cries mere gasps.

Demetria let me sob into her, holding me for a long time. When my breathing steadied, she pulled back and placed her hands on my face, centering me, staring into my eyes. "It's not your fault."

I tried to look away, but she did not let me.

"Daecinus, my love," she said, "I need you to hear me. It is not your fault."

I pulled with little strength and failed to break her grasp. "I did what I could, but that's just a lie I tell myself to make it easier."

"You're just a man, my love. A capable, intelligent, wonderful man, but limited by the confines of humanity all the same."

"I should have changed her mind. I should have convinced her to see reason—"

"And you tried."

"And I failed," I hissed, blinking away the blurring tears.

"It was not enough. But that does not mean you failed." She brushed away the tears. "She knew you were there for her at the end. She knew you loved her still. Don't tell me it isn't so."

It was true, whatever my pain and anger said otherwise. "But it wasn't enough."

"It never is." She hugged me, holding the back of my head as I buried my face into her shoulder. "And I'm sorry it isn't. Truly. But you were there for her, love. You were. That matters. That's all that matters."

"And have you forgiven yourself?" I asked, knowing she still bore the burden of failure in her delegation to Vasia, her people tortured and killed, her death leading to war, to my… decent. It wasn't her fault, of course, but she struggled with that I struggled with this.

Demetria took a deep breath. "I don't know. I really don't."

It was my burden, if anything. A failure as horrible as this seemed impossible to move forward from, let alone forgive.

I gripped her, caught between her words and my destructive guilt, frozen, hesitating.

Demetria upon the stake in the border lands, gulls circling overhead, the stench so thick it cut.

Maecia collapsing as the Sorcerers overwhelmed us. My people's silent cries as they were wiped away, my home turned to bones and dust.

Her body in my hands, blood pooling all around me.

Nothing but a string of death and failures and sorrow.

"I'm not enough," I whispered, "and I may never be."

"Our insufficiency seems impossible to forgive, but we must," she replied. "To move forward, to live, we must."

I tried to. I really did. But the anger was too hot, the sorrow too cutting, and the pain too fresh. "I'm sorry. I cannot. Not… Not now."

"It's okay." She held me tighter. Her love flooded me, pushing back the darkness. "There is time to mourn. You aren't wrong for it. And you're not weak."

Even as part of me screamed and writhed and fought, I believed her. I really did.

For now, I would hurt. And maybe… Maybe that was okay.

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