Rubines Highfait knocked firmly on the door of the man whose ambitions would destroy the world, pushing away the last of his shame at sinking to such an underhanded course of action. He was out of options. Now was the time for desperate measures.

And he knew of no measure more desperate than knocking on the door of Delarin Shadowcalled.

Delarin Shadowcalled did not come to the door.

Rubines pounded his fist against the door, louder and more insistent. “DELARIN! Come out, your people need you.”

A gruff snort of laughter was his only response.

“Alright, your people don’t know I’m here, and they’d probably execute us both if they found out. But… even if they don’t know it, they need you.”

The door slammed open, revealing a grinning Delarin Shadowcalled in all his glory and madness. Intricate lines of red adorned his long ears, like he’d tattooed them with blood magic - which, knowing him, he probably had. His translucent golden hair hung loose and tangled, framing the silver interlocking circles of dimensional power branded into his bare chest, and his eyes shone with the deep amethyst of those who’d long since surpassed the peak of magical power, even as they glinted with manic delight at the obvious discomfort of his visitor.

“And how many years have you enjoyed your seat on that damn council at my expense, Rubines Highfait?” His voice held the same resonant strength Rubines remembered so well. “How many times have you spoken up for my return?” He cackled gleefully. “If it’s even once, I swear I’ll do whatever it is you’re about to ask without question.”

Rubines wilted inwardly at the reproof. Once, centuries ago, they would have considered each other friends, before their paths diverged beyond any reconciliation. But now was not the time to dwell on the failings of the past.

Rubines squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “The dungeons are encroaching on the capitol. They’re carrying away the citizens of Enroheit and Riverdwell as we speak. Thousands more refugees are fleeing from the outer districts. At this rate we won’t last more than a few months.”

Delarin’s smile shifted, his face going flatly neutral. “You want my lab.”

“The Council is willing to consider evacuating the last remnants of our people to the Undercaverns.” Rubines swallowed, unable to keep his gaze on the unsettling purple nebula of Delarin’s eyes. “If I can prove there’s a safe path.”

“Damn you and damn your entire council. I won’t have thousands of fools tromping through my lab just because you lot can’t control a little pest infestation.”

“It’s far more than a little infestation. You haven’t left your seclusion in decades, you haven’t seen what they’ve done.” Rubines’ eyes slid down to the spirals embossed into Delarin’s chest, their complexity whole orders of magnitude beyond anyone else he’d ever seen. “You’re the strongest dimensionalist left in the world. If you can’t do it, no one can.”

“Of course I can do it. But I won’t. Not for you, not for anyone or anything.” Delarin’s grin returned, a hint of mischief in its slight twist.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

“You would lock your doors and sit by while the last of your people are wiped out?”

“My people? I seem to recall my name being stripped from me, my heritage denied me, my future torn down around me as you stood by and watched.” Delarin laughed, deep and mirthless. “Where were my people when I wandered the land as an outcast, with naught but despair and pain for company? Who stood by me to proclaim the truth of my innocence against the chorus of your council’s lies? No one. Not one damn elf would stand against you. And now you say these are my people? No, Councilor, I am not one of you. That has been made abundantly clear.”

Yet Rubines knew there was one price Delarin would accept. There always had been. But now that he'd arrived at the true purpose of his visit, he found he could not speak it. His voice stuck in his throat, bile rising as he imagined the consequences of what he was about to say.

He forced down the revulsion and settled his aura with a mithril will. The rest of the council need never know.

“Then… I… I will swear myself to your cause.” The alternative would be worse. Rubines knew the cost of failure would be even higher than the price of success.

"What?" Delarin’s laughter cut short. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing in confusion. “You… will?” Of anything he had expected out of a surprise visit from his nemesis, it clearly wasn’t this.

“I will.” Rubines’ voice wavered before he brought it back under control. “I swear on the moons and the stars and the eternal night beyond, if you will help our people escape this coming destruction, my life is yours forever.”

“You forgot to swear on the sun. Don’t think I missed that detail.”

Rubines shook his head, mouth dry. “The sun is no more. The dungeon queen has devoured it, as her children devour us. It would do neither of us any good to swear upon its corpse.”

“STAY HERE.” Delarin’s voice snapped out with the force of an army, freezing Rubines in place. He couldn’t even breathe, the command was so strong and overpowering, his mental defences torn apart and left in tatters. It would be the work of decades to repair the damage done in that one instant.

Delarin shoved past him and up the passage toward the surface. A minute later he returned, subdued. “You speak truth,” he said, and the pressure upon Rubines vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. “Have our people truly fallen so far?”

Rubines finally allowed himself to relax. ‘Our’ people. Delarin had finished with his denials and, at least in his own mind, accepted the arrangement. Now all that remained was to weave out the details.

His soul was the least of the concessions he’d be making today, Rubines felt sure, but it would all be worth it.

Their world would be lost one way or the other. At least with the help of Delarin Shadowcalled, there was a chance they could end it on their own terms.