Jackal Among Snakes

When Argrave and Anneliese walked out of their tent, the first thing they noticed was that underfoot.

“Grass?” Anneliese questioned. “How long have we been asleep? A week, or…?”

The reason for the lack of sound became clear—a ward surrounded their tent, blocking all noise from entering. Even had it not been there, things probably would’ve been quiet. It was the dead of night. The red moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the place well. Hundreds and hundreds of tents alike their own had been set up. Fires rose elsewhere, where figures could vaguely be seen crowded around them.

Anneliese held her hand to the ward. Her A-rank ascension sapped the magic within it, and after a few moments, if faded away. Sounds rushed back to them—the dim call of the wind, the distant murmurs from tents and campfire, the sound of industry, of horses neighing… this place was a veritable city of tents.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Rapid movement alerted the both of them, and Argrave whipped his head to see what came. There, Raven—now fully human—stood with his obsidian staff. He watched them in total stillness as others came to join him—Lorena, Orion, Elenore. Their stunned surprise was self-evident.

Argrave gave a wave. “Hey.”

Both of Argrave’s siblings began to stampede over, while Raven and Lorena began a steady walk forward. Argrave and Anneliese were far too weak to resist the proceeding embrace, but they never would’ve anyway. Elenore and Orion both blubbered affectionately just as Anneliese and Argrave had been moments ago.

“I can’t really make sense of you,” Argrave told Elenore, stroking the back of her head. “I told you it’d be fine, didn’t I?”

Elenore struck him with love (somehow), while Orion squished the four of them together in a family embrace. As they were assaulted, Raven and Lorena walked up to speak a little clearer than the siblings.

“Permit them some surprise. I’ve been preparing them for the worst. After all, you’ve been entirely braindead the past ten days.” His gray eyes looked between them both. “Both of you. After what Sophia did, Argrave’s flesh reappeared, but both of your minds vanished.”

“What Sophia did?” Argrave repeated. “What do you mean? What’s happened? I mean… magic is here, and our connection persists.”

The pair went silent. Lorena touched Raven’s shoulder, saying, “I’ll get the others.”

“Is Sophia alright?” Anneliese asked. “Please, catch us up to speed.”

Raven planted his staff down into the ground, leaning against it. “Sophia wove Anneliese’s Spark of Eternity into our realm. She used it to rebirth magic just as it was. Beyond that, everything else a part of the cycle of judgment has seemingly faded. Divinity, spirits, shamanic magic, the Shadowlanders—all gone.”

“But is Sophia alright?” Argrave pressed.

“I’m unsure.” Raven looked away.

“Is she or isn’t she?” Argrave asked, voice stern and hard.

“She’s walking, talking, and eating, Argrave,” Elenore explained, voice hoarse from the crying. “But she won’t say anything, do anything.”

“Her power of creation, too, has vanished,” Raven added.

“But what in the hell happened to you?” Elenore gripped Argrave’s collar, looking between him and Anneliese. “Gerechtigkeit… the Heralds… what happened?”

“Not much. Just broke the cycle of judgment, destroyed the primordial force of destruction.” Argrave shrugged, mind already drifting to Sophia.

“I had to save him,” Anneliese added pointedly. “But it was fine. I’m well used to it by this point.”

Elenore looked annoyed, relieved, and infinitely fatigued all in one. Orion gripped them tighter.

“Even with new grass growing, the world was gray and lonesome without you two,” Orion said, voice still trembling. “But I held on to hope. And the world has given me an undeserved reward for my faith.”

Soon, others joined them—Galamon, Durran, and the many friends of the years they spent in shared antagonism to the cycle of judgment. A deluge of emotion overwhelmed them all—smiles, tears, anger, grief, all of which were overshadowed by one very consistent fact that served as a buoy for their spirits.

The cycle of judgment had ended, forevermore.

Divinity had ended, utterly. The only thing that remained of their power was artifacts made of their flesh. All spirits had faded away, forever cutting away shamanic magic from use. Gods that survived, such as Hause or Law, had returned to the mortal form they inhabited before they assumed divinity. All divine blessings had faded, and all divine servants returned to dust.

Mortalkind alone would forever be the masters of their fate.

Magic had persisted, its skeletal frame given life again by the Spark of Eternity. Sophia’s creation had woven that single spark into an everlasting magic, expending both primordial forces in the process. Beings that depended on magic would continue existing, and spellcasters would continue to be able to manipulate the fantastic, life-changing essence.

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Every soul that was alive, and every soul that had yet to come into existence, would be contained within the sun of Argrave’s creation. Even his own soul remained there, despite his expectations. The Heralds could never again exert their influence upon this world. Unsavory disciplines such as necromancy and soul magic would be forever barred from mortal hands—in Argrave’s book, no significant loss.

The scale of life lost was difficult to quantify, but… most prevalently, the outcome was survival. The lunar dragons survived. The Gilderwatchers survived. Humans, elves of the Bloodwoods, Veidimen, southron elves, dwarves—all survived, and given time, all could thrive. Losses were significant, certainly far more than anyone ever wanted.

But they had stood against the masters of their universe, and they had prevailed. And that freedom would not be taken for granted.

#####

Sophia ate the food placed before her without much consideration of what it tasted like at all. It had been sitting here for five hours, and now dusk had fallen. Everyone around had been doing their best to make sure that she got nothing other than the best of the best, even amidst all of this… yet regardless of what came, all of it tasted like ashes on the tongue, and the softest blankets felt like a bed of nails.

She had tried. She truly had. She had tried to take that Spark of Eternity, weaving it into the fabric of the world around her to rebirth magic. She had experienced the full breadth of her own power, the beauty that was creation. She had been so sure that what she was doing was right. And though magic came to be once again…

The curse persisted. Sophia’s curse.

Argrave and Anneliese both, returned to life… yet lifeless. Their eyes remained closed, their lips remain shut, their bodies remained unmoving. Even as breath entered and left their body, Raven claimed that there was nothing stirring in their minds. She had tried so hard to save Argrave, and in so doing, deprived the world of the two people she cared about more than anything.

And now, with her power of creation gone, she would never see them again.

Sophia couldn’t cry, couldn’t rage, couldn’t bargain, couldn’t grieve. There was simply a tremendous pit in her stomach—an abyss that sucked in all other thoughts, until only the guilt and failure persisted. When, finally, she’d gained the strength of will to step forward all on her own, her foolhardiness had sent the two greatest people in the whole world tumbling off the cliff instead of her.

She would give anything to take their place. Why did everyone have to suffer for her? Her brother, every person that had tried to help her in Sandelabara, and now the couple who would take a filthy thing like herself as their own child. She was at the root of their misery.

Sophia wished she could just disappear.

“Hey, kid,” said someone as they sat across from her. “What’s that you’re eating?”

When Sophia looked up, her brain encountered an error and was forced to restart.

“Looks like… meat soup,” Argrave noted, his gaze flitting between her bowl of food and helping the woman he was helping to sit down. “Good ol’ meat soup.” He reached across with a makeshift wooden spoon, taking some and eating it with a loud slurp. “Cold meat soup,” he grimaced.

Sophia didn’t know what to do as Argrave and Anneliese sat across from her.

“Would you like some cold meat soup, Anneliese?” Argrave asked her. “Should she be eating that? I mean, what if she gets food poisoning? How long has that been sitting out?”

“It should be fine,” Anneliese said assuredly.

“If you say so.” Argrave placed his arms on the table they all sat at, then looked at Sophia with a smile. “What’s wrong? A couple days away, and you forgot what I looked like? I’m back.”

Sophia didn’t dare move. Was she dreaming? Had Orion shaved to cheer her up? She’d heard him contemplating that with Elenore. When she opened her mouth, her voice—unused for over a week—came out weakly and hoarsely, and she only managed, “I…”

“We’re sorry about taking so long,” Argrave began. “Had some car troubles, got a little lost down the wrong dirt road.”

“Be serious,” Anneliese flicked his ear, and he flinched away. “Consider her feelings.”

“I’m just trying to be cheerful,” Argrave defended himself, then he looked at Sophia with a smile. “You did it, Sophia. You saved us.”

Even with the whirling undercurrent of doubt twisting her guts a million ways, her hope became too strong to sit there idly. Sophia got onto the table and leapt at both of them with more energy she knew she had. Argrave was surprised, but he caught her with a laugh, falling off the bench and onto the grass so as not to hurt her from forcefully stopping her.

In the following moments, Sophia was only aware that she was crying, and that Argrave and Anneliese expended every effort to get her to stop doing so. She tried to voice questions, but they were overtaken by sobs every time. The whole while, the two whispered calming words in her ears to soothe the bubbling volcano of emotions in her chest.

Even though she couldn’t even manage a single question, she got her answer. It was them. Not a hollow mockery of Sophia’s creation—them. They were back. They would continue to live, wholly present, and at least for now… they still accepted her as their daughter.

When Sophia started to be aware of her surroundings again, she sat nestled between Argrave and Anneliese before a campfire, several of their closest allies around. Anneliese calmingly rubbed her head, while Argrave prodded at the fire with a stick. Her eyes were puffy and red, but Sophia was happy.

“Shall I be the one to kill the joy, as usual?” Elenore began, looking between them all. “It’s all well and good you’re back… but we need to start planning for the future. The entire continent has been set back hundreds of years, and we have to do something about that.”

Argrave studied her peculiarly. “Why would that be a killjoy?” He rose to his feet. “We lost people. More people than I can even conceive of. We did all of that for a bright, eternal future. And now…” he looked back, kneeling before Sophia. “Now, we can have it. A family. Big family. Love. Peace. An endeavor toward prosperity, without the looming threat of interlopers interfering where they don’t belong.” He took her hand, then Anneliese’s.

“Well…” Elenore closed her eyes. “I… hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“I have,” Durran said, looking at her with a faint smile.

Elenore turned away from him, but Sophia couldn’t tell if she was blushing or if it was merely the fire reflecting on her pale skin.

“I’d been more thinking about how busy we’ll all be, but… yes. It’ll be nice, won’t it?” Even Elenore, ever the pessimist, looked to the stars with hopes for the future in her eyes. “Still, we need to plan. What becomes of us? What becomes of this? I have my own thoughts. Let’s discuss them in the morning. You agree?”

“Sounds great.” He looked at Sophia. “You need to sleep, little one.”

“Stay,” Sophia said by instinct, grasping his hand tighter. “Please.”

Argrave smiled. “Forever.”

“Forever,” agreed Anneliese, kissing the top of her head.