All things must end. It is a hurt, but also a mercy. No good comes of endlessness.

-An Oros proverb

The trip back to Sarosa territory was long and uneventful. My escort enclosed us both in a solid sphere of ice which completely blocked my view of our surroundings, so I had no idea where their secret base was located. It felt like a very long trip, though, so I began to suspect the conversant hid on a tiny island or possibly underwater far from the mainland. The fact that they could survive the sea monsters was definitely a point in their favor as far as sheer power went, and I supposed the physical distance could explain why they sometimes were slow to respond to events that everyone else knew about within days.

I did not make these observations without a degree of begrudging resignation. I suspected I would remain quietly bitter at the conversant as long as I lived.

We didn’t speak much during the flight. I asked him a few more questions for clarification of one detail or another as they occurred to me, but for the most part I was lost in subdued contemplation.

Pelys was dead. If I hadn’t gotten involved, his crusade would have come to nothing. He would have found nothing, given up, and gone on with his life. In reviving his interest in Fylen’s death, in directing his investigation along the correct route, I’d all but sent him to his death personally.

I felt it my duty to at least offer Vess and Aneeyha my condolences, for so many of their friends lost, but I would not blame them if they were to hate me for my part in the whole affair.

“You have done well,” the conversant said, interrupting my rumination. “Were it not for your interference, it is possible the Anlioh would have succeeded in hastening the world’s destruction beyond hope of remedy. As it stands, there is every chance we will be able to avoid such a fate.”

I frowned at him, confused.

“Your allies ought not despise you for your role in this matter,” he clarified.

Oh. I must have been thinking too loudly again. I’d really have to get that under control.

“Broadcasting thoughts is not an uncommon problem in places like Utrenad or Metako. Most are too weak to pick them up clearly, or to send them out strongly enough that any but the closest can receive them. Your heightened power levels increase the strength of the broadcast, and I am well trained in picking them up. It helps in our line of work to be able to look beyond what is spoken aloud or done publicly.”

I considered what he’d said. “Most people won’t hear me?”

“Some will. If you wish any privacy, you should continue to pursue control. It will be difficult, as one come only lately to power at all, and more so with the high natural strength levels of your combined stones. Much like how you naturally move a little faster than most people, your mind is now a little louder. Using your power for anything else is usually enough to prevent leaking thoughts, so as a stop-gap measure until you attain proper control you can hold any simple construct active to divert the flow of power to more productive ends.”

That did explain a lot. “Do you know where I could find a teacher, if I wanted to pursue it?” I had no desire to study power further, but allowing my thoughts to continue broadcasting themselves freely would be unwise.

He gave me several names, which I memorized, and then we continued to travel in silence. I played with a constructed cube that I held tight control on, trying to clarify the hues in each face, and the conversant stopped responding to my thoughts. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was respecting my privacy, or because I’d successfully channeled the stray power into the cube. He didn’t respond to that mental inquiry either, so I assumed it to be the latter.

Finally, we arrived. The sphere of ice dissolved around us, letting in the afternoon sunlight of a cool winter day. My escort nodded in farewell, then disappeared so completely I didn’t even see which direction he flew.

I flew low to the ground, trying not to attract any unnecessary attention, but I soon realized that what may pass for inconspicuous among the nobility was still extremely notable among commoners. People bowed, cleared the way, stared, and otherwise turned my quiet homecoming into something of an uncomfortably large event.

I’d lived and worked primarily from Midpeak, but visited Woodedge regularly enough that I saw many familiar faces in passing. Though I wasn’t surprised when no one seemed to recognize me. The year had changed more than my name. I felt the confidence in my posture and the weight of my losses alike. The face I’d see in a mirror now bore little resemblance in affect to that of the person I’d once been. Only in feature were we alike, in all else I stood distinct.

They did not follow me as I left the town and followed the old road, in sorry state, a solid sheet of ice slick beneath slushy mud, and I was glad that I no longer needed to walk or ride. It would have been a miserable trip in this weather on the very edge between melting and freezing.

Power flowed warm and comforting through me, a thin bubble shielding me from the wind, and I arrived far sooner than I’d anticipated at the small home by the very edge of the trees.

No smoke rose from the chimney, and for a moment I feared the worst. I didn’t think I’d given Desten Oros enough reason to come after my mother, but it was possible he’d sought retaliation after the Sarosa disaster. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if I should have come back sooner, if I should have relocated her to safety in an upcity.

Then I caught movement at the corner of my eye, and saw her trudging carefully back through the bare trees toward the house, properly wrapped and hauling a load of branches in the cart.

It was such a familiar sight, it brought tears to my eyes. I hastily wiped them away, then dropped to the ground and, dismissing my shield, ran to her.

We talked late into the evening as I acquainted her with my adventures - though leaving out some of the darkness and much of the danger. As I had no intention of becoming involved in anything so terrible in future, it would do her no harm to believe me a little more cautious and safer than in reality. Some things didn’t need to be lingered upon.

And then at length we wrapped around to talk of the future. My conflicting hopes and plans for what to do next could not be easily resolved, but as I spoke at length of the possibilities it became clear that my true hopes lay closely aligned with Desten 3’s.

Truly, in the depth of my soul, I wanted to change the world. Perhaps not on a societal level, that would be too ambitious by far. Such aims easily resulted in the kind of high-minded nonsense that when written down could be mocked by both advocates and detractors alike.

I wanted to change lives. Maybe that was too ambitious still. But there were people like Desten 5, like Tali, like Retti, who were living the lives they thought they had to. Retti was brought up by what amounted to a cult; she carried on that legacy with her son, and I knew it never made either of them happy. Any satisfaction from their work was at the expense of others.

That may be an extreme case, most people wouldn’t end up as murderers, but if I could help find a better way forward for even a few, my life would not be wasted.

I didn’t know what form that should take, whether I needed to talk to people individually, or if there could be a way to help with only words. My own skill as a writer was largely based on overwrought dramatic conventions which appealed to those wanting a fantasy of power and escape from their mundane existence. It might do for making a living on, but had never satisfied me.

Was it arrogance to assume that I could create some deeper meaning, some lasting impact even with something so impersonal as words? Or would it be necessary that I put aside my vocation and all I’d learned, beginning anew in close concert with individuals?

The mere thought quickened my heartbeat; I had no enjoyment of social engagements and to engage in such, regularly, with strangers, felt akin to a nightmare. I’d had quite enough of that during my months on the midsummer circuit and had no desire to seek a repeat such events, regardless of the context.

We arrived at no conclusion that night, but it was cathartic to spill out all the jumbled thoughts and half-formed ideas that lurked within me. I remained there for many nights, careful to erect a sound-blocking construct in case my nightmares should return.

They did, though not quite so violently as I’d feared. It would be a long time before I could be assured of resting peacefully. But one can still be at peace for a time without that assurance. There are moments when the darkness fades and the weight lies forgotten for a time. And in the meantime, there is life to be lived.

Some weeks after my return, I received a letter from Reirn Ushan Varon requesting my presence. I did not hasten overly much to fulfill it, but neither did I tarry excessively. Though I did wish that I could. I could not forget the sheer overpowering fear Reirn Ushan had provoked at our first meeting, so long ago, when he effortlessly tore through the thin veil of lies I’d constructed and threw me headlong into the investigation which would prove so troublesome.

I still did not understand his motives for that decision. One would think an impostor in your house would be a cause for greater concern.

I arrived at the appointed time. Desten Varon, the first I’d met of that name, nodded to me as I entered, and followed behind me to close the door behind us.

Reirn Ushan sat in a formal dining room this time, rather than the audience hall from my first visit. He motioned for Desten and I to sit, which we did.

“Astesh. I’m told you’ve concluded your investigation.”

I nodded.

“That you have rendered great aid to every house in the process.”

I shrugged, not entirely convinced on that score.

“And that my suspicions of your origins are misplaced, and you could lay claim to any number of prominent family lines should you be so inclined. Your family concealed itself from the world to hide its secret techniques which were passed down through the generations, until you became the accidental recipient of ancient power surpassing any in our current world, unlocked by the unfortunate happenstance of the events surrounding Fylen Sarosa’s death.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” I hedged. I hadn’t been sure what story the conversant would come up with, but combining my initial fumbling lies with a form of the truth, it could work.

“I trust you have found my nephew to be faultless in pursuing his duties?”

I glanced up at Desten 1, who seemed abstracted. Watching as was his duty, but not truly interested in the proceedings.

“Yes, he’s a good man. I find no fault with him.” It felt strange saying that, as if my opinion should carry any weight, but Reirn Ushan nodded as though it did.

“Have you arranged your affairs sufficiently, or do you require further assistance? I would not have it said that Varon hospitality to our forgotten scions is anything less than complete.”

“I don’t know where I’ll be living, but I would not require you to provide for me.” I had spent enough time leeching off of others. It was all well and good while I was mired in deception, chasing Destens and had no other choice, but if I were free of any suspicion and safe from future investigations into my origins, that freed me to act for myself.

“Then I must insist you accept a commission in repayment for your efforts. You will of course take up a place in whichever of our cities suits you best.”

“Varonhold would be fine, for now, but I cannot promise to remain here for good. I would like to travel without the pressure of constant social events.”

Reirn Ushan waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter. You may do what you wish. The house will be yours regardless.”

We exchanged further pleasantries, but before long the audience came to its end and we were dismissed. Desten accompanied me to an office with instructions for exchanging the commission for a plot of land and its accompanying dwelling. There was none vacant in the city, but as it extended only across half the mountain’s surface there were plenty of spaces to build.

The process of choosing land and designs for my soon-to-be home felt very strange, but with Desten’s help and that of the clerk we narrowed the choices down and settled on a west-facing spot a bit lower than most houses, very near to the edge of the shield separating upcity from downcity. Most of the structures this low were administrative in nature, either for storing or conveying goods between cities or recording the intakes of such from adjacent downcity regions. For me, the position felt appropriate. I was neither common any longer nor true nobility, but something in between.

Still, though all seemed to be coming out well in the end, I felt disquiet at my own fortune. It seemed a disservice to those who’d lost so much that I should survive not merely unharmed but elevated and rewarded so greatly.

My future may be assured, but what of my friends and allies who’d done so much for me?

I resolved to stop putting it off. I had some days free while the construction got underway before I’d be expected to commission furnishings for the interior. I would not feel satisfied until I’d at least spoken once more to Vess and Desten 3. I resolved that I would not press them, if they desired to be rid of me, but that if our friendships were to falter it would not be due to my own negligence.

Perhaps boldness did come naturally to me, even if I’d spent years trying to hide it away. Too long I’d stayed apart, watching others come and go without daring to intrude upon their lives except when necessary for my work. If I continued to stay away, the outcome would be no better, and quite possibly worse.

The harrowing events of the past year had thrown my reticence into a new perspective. Life was too short, too easily ended, to put so much worry upon such things. I would not run from something so trivial as a conversation, however much it may hurt.

The pain of silence would cut just as deep, and more irreparably.

“Oh, you’re back. Should I be honored? I understand you’ve saved the world.” There was a decided edge to Desten 3’s voice, and I couldn’t help but feel I deserved it.

“Nothing so dramatic as that.”

Desten shook his head. “And you didn’t invite me?”

“I thought you hated violence and chaos. Wouldn’t you rather stay safe at home and not have to worry about it?”

“Perhaps, if not that I know you’re out there with that insane Sarosa you’re always hanging around with. Who knows what mad schemes he’s involved you in this time?”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that any more,” I said curtly. “He’s dead.”

Desten’s mouth opened, but then he only looked ashamed and didn’t speak.

I breathed slowly in the silence, trying to keep my grief in check. However much time had passed, it wasn’t enough to excise the regret.

“My condolences,” he finally mumbled. “I know you were close.”

“Thank you,” I said hollowly, because that’s what you did in these situations. “I … I know I’ve been less than forthcoming with you. I can’t apologize, because everything I did was from necessity. But I never meant it to cause you concern or harm.”

“My friend is involved in secret conspiracies and saves the world on the side, but alas, I’m not allowed to know the truth for my own protection.” Desten said it lightly, but wasn’t quite able to conceal the bitterness in his voice. “Desten won’t tell me anything either.”

“I’ve been granted land near the edge of the city,” I said, changing the subject. “So we’ll be neighbors, or near enough to it. If you ever want my help, you are welcome to call on me. I will be finding an occupation as soon as possible, and I plan to repay you for all your help during my research project. I couldn’t have done it without your generosity, and I am not ungrateful.”

“You needn’t concern yourself with that,” Desten said.

“But I want to. I know your books aren’t making as much profit as you’d hoped, and it’s barely enough to support you, let alone me as well. I do appreciate the sacrifices you made to accommodate me, a virtual stranger.”

“And I appreciate your help. Though admittedly your antics were sometimes difficult to see past.” Desten hesitated. “I hope you will stop doing things like that now that you’re back.”

I laughed weakly. “Yes, I’m done. I have no intention of getting involved in something like this ever, ever again.”

Desten smiled. “Excellent. Are you occupied for the evening?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then I have something to show you.” He beckoned for me to come in, and I felt a strange wave of nostalgia at the haphazard books and untidy piles strewn about his sitting room. He rummaged about at the table for several minutes, muttering to himself as he rearranged sheafs of pages, then handed me a thick bundle.

“What’s this?” I asked, then turned the pages around so I could read them. “Oh, your new book.”

“It’s finished, at least the initial draft. I was hoping you’d check it for me. It’s in need of a solid revision, I know, but you’re so insightful.”

Insightful, huh? I wasn’t often accused of insight, but compared to Desten’s childish naivete, I supposed I might come out well enough in contrast.

“In fact, I rather feel like this is worth celebrating,” Desten said. “We should go out someplace nice. Maybe invite Desten and Tali to join us. I’d love for him to hear your theories about commoners.”

“I don’t have many theories,” I said, my heart sinking at the thought of confronting the man whose family I’d destroyed. The papers slipped from my hands.

Desten dove to collect them and put them back in order. “Careful!” he admonished, handing them back to me. “This is months of my effort you’re holding.”

“Maybe another day,” I said, trying to refuse the pile.

“Astesh, you’ve been ignoring me for months. I insist that you join me. You’ve already admitted you have no prior plans.”

“I—” I couldn’t do this. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent! And be careful with those, they’re in order now, but who knows. Let me see who’s open today. Back in a minute.”

He opened the side door to his garden, and I caught sight of his yellow glow as he took off before the door had time to swing closed behind him.

I took advantage of the reprieve to set the manuscript down and breathe.

By the time Desten returned with a list of restaurants, I was able to at least pretend normalcy. The flight was all too short. As he'd threatened, Desten 4 and Tali were already sitting at the table waiting for us.

Tali didn’t react as we approached, playing with a strand of power drawn between her hands. Desten 4, who looked strangely small without the thick permanent aura of liquid light surrounding him, tapped at it with a thin thread of his own. If I didn’t know he’d once been nearly the most powerful individual in the world, I would never have guessed.

He seemed withdrawn, quietly haunted even when ostensibly focused fully on his daughter, an absence behind his facade of a smile. My heart skittered faster, and I wanted to turn and fly away, but Desten chose that moment to wave and call out.

Desten 4 rose with a smile. “So, you’re eirn Astesh. Desten has told me a lot about you.”

“Has he?” I said, my voice barely audible.

“I see he’s forcing you to read his manuscript. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon enough.”

They both laughed, and if Desten 4’s voice rang hollow, it was barely perceptible.

Tali stared at me, her simple construct fading as her attention lapsed.

I tried to smile, and forced a little wave.

We reached the table, and I sat between Desten and Tali, opposite Desten 4. He seemed openly curious about me, but not in a ‘you-killed-my-wife’ kind of way. How much had the conversant told him? Was it possible he didn’t know?

Fortunately, Desten 3 was able to carry the conversation throughout our meal, excited by his project’s completion, and I retreated into the excuse of proofreading his pages to avoid looking at Desten 4 or Tali.

For her part, Tali stared at me, but didn’t speak, until I finally turned to her. “Did you want something?” I asked, irritated at her interruption, but immediately remorseful for snapping. “If you have a question,” I said more gently, “you can ask.”

“What were you doing in my house?” she asked. “You stole one of our boxes.”

Oh, right. Last she’d seen me, I’d been using a storage box to stash Vess and … whoever the other one was, from the other team. Daum.

And I had no idea how to tell a child that I’d been there to kill half her family. I had to swallow hard at the mere thought, bile rising in my throat as I remembered Retti slowly dying under my hand.

“I— I was—”

“Trying to save me, wasn’t it?” Desten 4 put in, unexpectedly.

“Is that what happened?” Desten 3 asked, looking between us. “It was your doing?”

“Indirectly at best,” I managed. The conversant had done the actual saving, but they seemed to think I was responsible.

Why was it easier to accept blame than to claim credit for something going right?

“What did happen?” Desten 3 asked. “I know you’ve been putting me off,” he said to Desten 4, “but at least you have the excuse of being unconscious for the whole thing. What’s your excuse, Astesh?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I want to know—” Desten 4 put a hand on Desten 3’s shoulder, and Desten 3 stopped talking.

“I’d rather not discuss this here,” said Desten 4, with a pointed glance at Tali. “And we should respect eirn Astesh’s wishes, if now is not the time. I may not know much, but I know this is going to be hard for all of us. Don’t try to force it.”

Desten 3 reluctantly nodded, though his face took on a petulant look at being denied information. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Desten 4 said with a touch of vehemence. “Eirn Astesh, you needn’t say anything if you don’t want to.”

I nodded and looked back down at the pages, but I couldn’t make the words come into focus.

“I think it’s time we get home,” Desten 4 said, standing. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, eirn Astesh. We’ll have to speak again sometime. No need to rush.” He gave Desten 3 a firm look. “And don’t try to push it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tali gave me a tiny wave and hesitant smile, and I nodded in response.

It lifted my heart a bit to see, even if her gratitude was based on exaggerations and unknowns. At least someone would come out of this all, scarred, perhaps, but not broken. She’d probably do better than me.

It was a start.

The commemoration service for Pelys Sarosa took place in a wide open meadow near the top of Northpoint Mountain, where a surprisingly large number of people I’d never met before gathered in concentric rows which indicated their closeness with the deceased. I hung back, wanting to stay near Vess and Aneeyha, but knowing I had no right to claim such intimacy. We’d known each other less than a year, even if he’d become an extremely important part of my life, there were others who’d known him far longer.

Nearly the entire front row and much of the second, apart from Vess and Aneeyha and an older woman who turned out to be Pel’s mother, were young people who he’d mentored. I took a position in the third row, wondering why I’d come at all.

Once everyone was situated, everyone took it by turns to say something. Pel’s mother simply said her farewells. Vess told a story from when they were younger, of a just-graduated Pel accidentally instigating a brawl that ended in him taking on his first student. Said student stood a little down the line, his hands over his face, laughing through his tears. Aneeyha gave a brief but heartfelt prayer.

As his former and current students went down the line, reminisced about his training and manner, I began to feel an innate kinship with them all. Everything they described, I’d experienced. He’d been harsh and demanding, but also encouraging and supportive. For someone so young, he’d made a deep impact on so many lives.

And, indirectly, saved so many more.

Then suddenly it was my turn, and I had no idea what to say. My throat felt dry, my voice absent. I made a fumbling ‘ah,’ as the silence grew strained, then took a breath and started speaking with no idea what I’d say.

“Pelys Sarosa wasn’t meant to be a friend. When I first met him, it was only in pursuit of the truth about Fylen’s death. I considered his knowledge a valuable resource. But somehow he saw potential in me that I would never have expected. Without him—” my voice choked off, and I struggled to regain control. “Without— without his insistence and training, without his help every step of the way, we would never have accomplished what we did. So, thank you. I shouldn’t have been your final student, you should have gone on to teach many more. But I am thankful for the opportunity I had to know you.”

I fell silent, feeling incredibly awkward, but the next person picked up and the ceremony went on, and I let myself laugh and cry along with so many others who’d been connected to this insane, vibrant, caring man.

When it ended, I found my way over to Vess. He seemed to have suffered no ill effects from his brief brush with power destabilization, and nodded to me in greeting. “Thank you for coming,” he said, and I nodded in response.

“Thanks for inviting me. I hadn’t planned to… I didn’t know…”

Vess nodded, and I let the fumbling explanations die. “He would have wanted you here. You were the catalyst for everything we accomplished these past few months.”

“Only by happenstance.”

Vess shook his head. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You could have stepped away at any time. You stayed with us far longer than any obligation would have demanded.”

“I know I’m just an outsider here, but—”

“No,” Vess interrupted. “You risked your life to save me. You fought with us to the end. I would not hesitate to call you friend.”

“Nor I,” Aneeyha said. “Fylen is avenged. I would that Pelys had been willing to let it go, but it is no fault of yours that he always insisted on charging forward headlong. He would never have sat by and allowed so great an injustice to go unconfronted. We always knew one day he’d jump into something he couldn’t so easily escape. There is nothing you could have done to prevent his going, any more than I could have prevented Fylen’s.”

We stood a while longer, the conversation always orbiting around memories of Pelys, until some others came over to speak to Vess, and I excused myself. Though I wanted nothing more than to find somewhere quiet away from everyone, I forced myself to mingle some with my fellow students. I was surprised to learn that I was already rather well known among them, as four of those who’d been training at the same time as me had been quietly comparing their progress to the others. And, subsequently, to me.

It was strange, hearing stories Pel had told about me relayed back second-hand, but oddly warming in a way. Even though I’d always considered my progress slow, apparently he’d been using me as an example to push his other students on to greater heights.

It felt incredibly odd, to realize that I’d become an important touchpoint in the lives of people I’d never even heard of until today.

We spent some time commiserating over his methods, mourning that he’d never have the chance to follow through on his threat to throw us into a volcano - though where he’d find one of those was a mystery none of us could solve. None of the watchmountains had volcanic activity, and the lower mountain ranges likewise gave no evidence of its presence. Concluding that the threat was in jest, we continued on to another subject, and another after that.

By the time evening fell and the ceremony drew to its conclusion, I felt the most at home as I ever had with a group of nobles. Perhaps I ought reassess my understanding of them. One can only admit exception after exception to a rule for so long without questioning the rule itself.

The ceremony ended with an abstract construct of light drawn by all present sent out to sea. There it would continue across the world until the power slowly dissolved somewhere in the unknown distance, as the remembrance of Pel’s life would remain with us until its eventual fading.

It seemed a somber similitude to me, but also fitting.

We watched in fading twilight as the tangle of light drew further and further distant, until it disappeared altogether and left the night feeling emptier and darker for its absence.

With that, the gathering split and each went silently their own way, leaving only a memory.

And somehow the emptiness that had grown within me for so long seemed to recede in its wake, the reminder of community and hope and connection even in the face of loss and tragedy.

It turned out, there wasn’t so huge a difference between us, in the end. Noble and commoner alike, we all live. We all love. We all die. We all fade. We all grieve.

Perhaps it was time to stop thinking of ‘them’ and start thinking of ‘us.’ All of us, regardless of our power, regardless of our birth. Thinking less of the nobility for the fact that they are noble, how is that any different from them thinking less of commoners for the fact that we were born powerless?

Perhaps there was no way to merge the worlds together on my own. But my legacy didn’t have to end with me, just as Pel’s legacy didn’t end with him.

There’s always hope.

Perhaps I won’t always be able to make the ideal choices in life. Perhaps my name won’t be remembered. Perhaps my deeds will never echo through the ages.

But perhaps I don’t need to carve my legacy in stone. Perhaps there’s a nobility in the ephemeral, a power in things that may touch lives only briefly. Even in stupid poetry and sensationalized tales. Even in friendships that come and go with the seasons.

As long as my life and my work can bring a little more light, a little more hope, a little more happiness to the world, I am content.

-Bloodshard: The Autobiography of Astesh Varon

THE END