“As it turns out, Ardan’s an idiot.” Armin sighed, wandering about the room the two found themselves in. It was a beautiful room carved of prismatic stone with soft light emanating from about them, as if the walls themselves were a luminous construct. Armin paced in his dark robes, bright blue eyes searching the chamber as if the answer to his predicament could be found in the quaintly dressed table or the bookshelves. He took a moment to inspect the volumes. What would they read in this place anyway? Cookbooks apparently. The wooden door that sat at the far end of the rectangular room reminded him of the door he’d seen in Mara’s dreams. Those dreams that concerned what Maddie had done to her. Vile woman, if he’d had his way she’d never have been involved in the revolution!
“Armin, where are we, exactly?” Mara asked from her repose upon the table, where she’d been laying for what felt like hours. Time was a confusing muddle in this place. Armin had driven himself mad by counting the exact seconds that passed while he’d waited the first time. For the measure of his madness, he’d counted thirty-one million seconds. Give or take a few thousand. This was before he’d been unceremoniously yanked to his grave.
“Mhm? Oh. We’re in Annun.” Armin answered as he stalked the bookshelves for reading material. Mara sat ramrod straight as she looked around with abject fear in her eyes. Armin looked over his shoulder from the pleasant travelog he’d discovered with a quizzical expression. “I thought that a necromancer of your calibre would realise when you were dead.” Armin chuckled, slamming the book he’d been pontificating on reading shut. Mara began to babble denials, bargains and noises of sheer panic before the elder of the two held up a hand placatingly. “Well, more specifically, your body is dead whilst I was inhabiting it. You’re something of an unfortunate passenger.” Armin explained with both palms on the table, enjoying the ability to feel the cloth under his fingers.
“This doesn’t look like a barren wasteland of snow and misery.” Mara observed somewhat comically as she removed herself from the table, stalking the room as she took in the strange prismatic walls. It was almost inoffensive with how wonderous it presented itself as.
“Ah that’s because you’re seeing it through my eyes.” Armin noted as his gaze flicked to a pair of double doors that lay at the closer end of the rectangular room. He shivered, seeming to remind himself of their business. “Mara, there’s something I have to tell you. And I’m afraid you won’t enjoy it.” Armin sighed as he took out one of the high-backed chairs. The room appeared to be similar to the council chambers used by the faculty at Yanhelm University. At least to Mara’s eye.
“Oh, would that be more or less enjoyable than the news I’m dead?” Mara replied sarcastically as her eyes found the door that resembled the one Maddie had used. Confusion overtook her as she looked towards Armin. He smiled at her condescendingly, mocking her lightly for her back-chatter.
“Again, you’re not dead. I dragged you here. Which weaves nicely into the bad news.” Armin enumerated with exasperation plain on his face. He then seemed to collect his thoughts, giving Mara time to calm herself. “I’m an anchor, Mara. When Renaud banished me, our connection ripped your soul from your body. And I’m keeping it here. Right now, your body has no impetus to continue living and is slowly shutting down. Even with your miracle of a corpse, you’ve got about five minutes.” The ghost explained with a sombre air, one that brooked no more japes or frivolity. His tone hit Mara as an asteroid, her eyes going wide with disbelief. He then noticed that Mara’s eyes were not the disquieting glowing affairs they normally were. Instead, the eyes of the original Mara gazed out at him.
“I don’t suppose you have good news?” Mara asked with a weak attempt at humour, a frown of consternation being her response. Armin then seemed to think things over, a grunt of frustration escaping him.
“We were going to unravel the mysteries of death together.” Armin moped, sliding his face into his hands as he did so. “But there is no solution to this conundrum. The only choice I get is whether I die alone or with a friend.” The necromancer explained with fists clenched as he considered the enormity of that statement. Mara looked up at her friend with sad eyes, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
Their solemnity was interrupted by an insistent, echoing knocking at the double doors. Both of their heads whipped around to see what had happened. Whoever lay on the other side of the door, they were patient. They did not barge in or knock insistently. Mara’s eyebrows dropped as she looked over to Armin.
“Were you expecting guests in this psychic landscape?” The mage asked with a cynical edge. “Who is it?” Mara hollered to the mysterious caller with a facetiously light tone. Seconds stretched forth with no answer, not even from Armin who looked at the door as if the Yandite horde itself lay on the other side.
“He who waits for all of us. Who we must all meet eventually.” Armin whispered as if he were afraid the monster that demanded entry would hear. Mara understood the meaning of his melodrama, rolling her eyes. The elvish man gave her a warning look. A look that shifted to one of indignant disdain as his thoughts seemed to be carried away by the terror he felt. “Why are you here? Haven’t I given you enough? Am I do die in perpetuity for other people?! When do I get to choose the hour or the place?!” Armin demanded of the door, losing his composure. He threw a book at the wood spitefully, which did not react in the slightest.
Mara guided Armin to the nearby seat, taking his hand in two of her own as she sat next to him. The two of them sat in silence for the moment, enjoying each other’s company in this strange place. Both knew their time was short, but solace in the face of the end was something they both shared. Once Armin’s temper seemed to restrain itself, his eyes never leaving the door. He wore a look of disdain so potent that Mara squeezed his hand reassuringly.
“If it helps, you can choose. I’ve got nothing for me back there. Especially not after Renaud is through with them.” Mara smiled at her friend, lowering her hood. With a relieved grunt, she removed her mask and placed it upon the table. Shaking her blonde hair free of its binding, she allowed herself a rueful laugh. “Gods, I was pretty, wasn’t I? You know what Solvi said to me? That I was always worthy of her.” Mara recounted with a bitter laugh, looking over her shoulder at the double doors. It was Armin’s turn to stop his vigil, looking at Mara’s original features with a placating smile.
“I still haven’t forgiven her for booting me out of your body.” Armin chuckled as he recalled the night in the caravan. “You should thank her. It was her actions that allowed you to even have this choice.” The necromancer informed her pointedly. They both started when the knocking at the door became three thunderous blows, echoing throughout the room. “Oh, would you look at that, our time is shorter than I’d hoped.” Armin laughed nervously, standing and pacing almost in place. He looked all about as if trying to spy some escape. When nothing presented itself, his fists curled once more, and a gasp of irritation left his lips.
“We have as much time as we need.” Mara smiled reassuringly, indicating the seat before her. Instead, Armin took both her hands in his and whipped her to her feet. He stared at her with such seriousness that Mara’s smile faltered. She set her expression and nodded towards her friend, tears beginning to coalesce in her eyes.
“No, we never had as much as we needed. I meant what I said. You made me a better man.” Armin began, swallowing hard against the tide of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. Like a rock in the Bay of Fangs, he stood firm. “I’m giving you back, Mara. Because you have so much to live for. The love of your friends, the hope of a better life. My life is over. I died before you were born.” Her elder affirmed with such emphasis that Mara nodded despite herself. She’d never heard such conviction from him. “Lorana was right, Mara. You have to let go.” He continued, eyes flicking to the double doors as they practically rattled in their frames. Mara attempted to look back but was stopped by Armin’s firm hand. “This face? This face is a fantasy. A fiction you’ve been clinging to for seventy years. And you deserved to. It kept you going. But the weight of voiceless scorn, disdain unspoken, has weighed you down long enough. So, if you’ll grant a dying man his last request?” Armin asked in a voice constricted with fear and sadness, his eyes streaming with open weeping. He would face it for her. The torment he so richly deserved for crimes he’d knowingly committed. Justice was not something he was used to seeing. How novel that it would be delivered unto him first.
“Armin, you don’t have to die I’ll find a way.” Mara pleaded as she opened her pocketbook, showing him the half-baked fictions, she’d made of the resurrection spell. Armin closed the book with his hands, shaking his head. Mara sobbed with her head pressed to his chest as she let the despair overcome her. The splintering wood behind them drove Armin to insist, gripping both of his friend’s shoulders. “Anything. I don’t want you to go Armin.” Mara wept, barely able to keep herself upright from the hysterical sadness that gripped her. “What’ll I do without you?”
“You’ll survive. You’ll live. And, if I may be so bold, you’ll kick Ardan’s backside back into Annun where he belongs.” Armin smirked, pushing the other mage behind him as he did so. His eyes were now fixed upon the figure emerging through the shattered remains of the door, its sword glistening in the prismatic light. Mara could not tell what it was, only that it was robed and vaguely humanoid. “This is goodbye, Mara. Give Solvi a kiss from me, would you?” Armin jested over his shoulder as his entire body quaked before the figure that sauntered slowly towards the pair. Shoved away by her friend, Mara began to run for the door of wood and stone, not daring to look back for fear of the monster.
“Just me, I’m afraid.” Armin’s voice drifted over to Mara, who managed to prise the door open as the sound of clanking manacles being snapped shut pierced her ears. Then came the sound of Armin being dragged away as he bravely attempted to hold back his sobbing.
“Thy purpose remains yet unfulfilled.” A sinister baritone voice thundered in Mara’s mind as she ran through the door and into the blackness beyond. At first, she felt as if she were falling, screaming at the nothingness as she felt it fly past her. With a sudden thump, Mara sucked in a breath. The thumping increased in speed until what it was became clear. Her own frantic heartbeat. The mage looked above to see the swirling inferno of purple fire and, out of the corner of her eye, a cursing Renaud wrestling with the console of ephemeral panes and writing. With quick thinking, she closed her eyes once more. She gathered her strength until she felt Renaud’s footstep on her outstretched forearm on his way down the steps. He called for someone to help him, angrily demanding to know what the device was doing.
“Gaius!” Mara barked, jumping to her feet with magic already forming on her hands. Renaud whirled about to see his sana wrap her fingers about the Crook, a detonation of necrotic energy sending the man flying into the barricades. Only then did Mara feel safe enough to take in her surroundings.
The circular platform bristled with lightning strikes, the aulind glowing an intense orange as the nullstun failed to contain the energies within. Her friends lay scattered about, sheltered in the shadow of the barricades. Every so often, one of the lightning strikes would impact a barricade causing it to glow a vicious, putrid purple almost black in colour. Her friends were not moving. Even Ranva lay broken upon the sparking floor. The illusions Renaud had manifested were no more, whipped away in the inferno that even now grew in intensity. Mara looked upwards with a small laugh, pointing towards the tunnel of the gangway. A tunnel barely held open by a mineral slowly becoming saturated.
“If you’re looking for the exit, it’s right there. I suggest you take it.” Mara pointed over Renaud’s shoulder. His head craned around with the desperate eyes of a trapped animal. The Crook was the tool of Arawn. If Mara chose to use it, the fury wrought could be devastating. “The intake conduits are working; the control rods have all been withdrawn to get your pretty light show. Now, the entire structure’s going to go critical. If only you hadn’t knocked the engineer unconscious.” Mara pointed to the still form of Twitcher, steadily walking towards them with easy steps. Her eyes never left Renaud’s and though her tone was casual, her eyes were as diamonds. He was under no illusions as to what would happen if he tried anything.
“She was a traitor to her people. The world is well rid of-.” Renaud began his venomous rant, only to be cut off by a vicious whip of energy from Mara. He held a hand to his bleeding cheek, reacting to the illusion as if he had blood to spill.
“My patience is running thin, Gaius. I’m not stupid enough to use the Crook.” Mara informed him with that same dreadfully casual air. She knelt next to Twitcher, poring over their form with negligent eyes. Renaud allowed himself a cruel smile, shaking his head at his sana’s arrogance. To think a mediocre talent such as her was threatening him. She seemed more concerned with the revcel than anything at the moment. And so, Gaius knelt down and slid a golden blade behind his back.
“You’d better use it. Because I will use Avom Soram and I will free Mira from her fetters.” Renaud snorted. “Without your better half, without a crutch, without your pet you are nothing.” He spat as he began to stalk towards Mara, hand poised outwards as if he intended to cast a spell. His sana’s eyes flicked up from her injured friend, regarding him with cold indifference. “You don’t and never will hold a candle to my prowess.” Renaud bristled, his anger taking control of him. He lashed out with the same spell that had laid Fred low. It detonated in his hand, counteracted before he’d even spoken the words. Renaud sank to his knee, clutching his smoking hand to his chest.
“With you that might have been true.” Mara admitted as she stood, the purple flames around them bending outwards. They licked at the barriers protecting the rest of the facility, the sound of shattering glass warning them of criticality. “Without you, I am the sun by comparison.” Mara seethed, the glow of her irises consuming her eyes as Renaud felt the working of a tidal wave. He expected some form of necrotic energy, counteracting the most powerful spell he knew Mara used. Yet as his spell reached out to snatch the power, it found purchase on nothing. Mara’s spell instead reached out to the fallen forms of her comrades, forcing open the collapsing tunnel of flames. The entire platform became shrouded in a dark shield that kept the lightning at bay.
The Marshal looked with horror to see the wounds on those he’d felled begin to stitch together, Fred being the first to rise to his feet. He looked at his hands in disbelief, face turning to see Twitcher rolling onto their front. They checked their arm sword, finding their body still damaged. Ranva did not stir, even as Arthur cast aside his heavily dented breastplate.
“Resurrection?!” Renaud gasped, eyes going wide. He roared, making a desperate last dash to impale his sana upon Ranva’s blade. Mara had seemingly expected the attack, stepping to one side before slamming the Crook onto his back. It carried with it the force of a spell, causing him to fall retching to the floor.
“I’m a medic not a miracle worker.” Mara corrected snidely, placing a boot firmly on Renaud’s shoulder before rolling him over. She then pressed her boot to his neck. He gasped, weakly grasping the boot to buy himself the power of speech. “Your magic is expended. Your plan has failed. The Army lies in ruins. Surrender and you may yet live.” Mara leaned down, her eyes meeting the false illusory ones Renaud insisted on using. Even that trivial magic for him had begun to fail, his face looking drawn and sallow. It didn’t stop a coughing, scornful laughter escaping him, a look of disbelief etched into his every feature.
“Seriously? What crimes am I guilty of? Even if justice is served and I am sent to Tessa Dol, what’s ten, twenty, or fifty years to an elf?” Renaud chided with a condescending tone, as if Mara were once again his naïve student. “You think me my lowliest recruits? Destitute and alone, without purpose or direction? No. I am a man of conviction. With every breath, every dawn I see, I will work to bring about the empire. If you kill me, another will rise to carry my hopes. Do whatever you will, sana. I will not relent.” Renaud spat, his face a contortion of emotions as he struggled against the boot. Mara seemed torn between decisions, claws beginning to form along her forearm. To think that she’d once considered this man a second father. A good man. This creature sullied even her memories of him. She looked to Twitcher with hateful eyes, the automaton nodding before climbing the steps to assess the damage.
“If Mara struggles to be your executioner, you’ll find no shortage of ready replacements.” Solvi’s voice cut through the air, causing the party to turn to the gangway. The tall Orsan woman was supported by Julie, who wore the set jaw of a woman on a mission. Solvi herself appeared to be clutching her mother’s axe, drawing on its power for some unknown purpose. “My halberd was made to end you, Gaius.” Solvi chuckled as she hobbled up the steps, Julie’s armour clanking with them. The Idharan wore a black-enamelled ensemble. It was a well-made set that carried a chain bearing the seal of the IXth Legion. Mara chuckled to herself weakly, the absurdity of it all almost driving her to hysterics. The Orsan was in love with a IXth Legionary.
“Regrettably, I shall have to teach my sana one final lesson before you do.” Gaius grinned from beneath the boot, Fred pointing his rifle directly between the elf’s eyes. Mara looked to his hand, seeing that the trigger was already held. “There’s no such thing as magical expenditure for a man prepared to burn.” Her sora cackled, Mara already in the process of casting the killing blow as he ripped her foot from under her. Fred’s bullet exploded next to his face, sending shards of nullstun into his skull. In her fall, Mara lost grip of the Crook. A grip Renaud was ready to exploit. He grabbed it, drawing the purple flames from above to his aid. Screeching a teleportation spell through searing lips, he vanished from their sight.
Julie and Solvi caught Mara, who gazed dumbly at the spot where Renaud had just been. She then looked to her palm, empty of the Crook. Only then did she look up at the armoured Julie and resolved Solvi with a whimper of sorrow.
“I’m sorry. I should have. But I couldn’t.” Mara sniffed, Solvi taking her in her arms comfortingly. Julie attempted to soothe the inconsolable mage even as she looked up to an increasingly worried Twitcher. Fred sidled up to them, casting an eye over the console helplessly. Arthur busied himself with healing his own wounds, which were far graver than his fellows. Every so often he would cry out before biting down on the leather strap of his breastplate. Somewhere far from the room, Mara thought how many scars he would have afterward.
Twitcher was babbling in Elysian, plying the console with their one working hand in desperation. Fred did not speak a lick of Elysian but by the gods, that was a lot of red warnings. He looked over his shoulder, calling for Mara to translate for them. The mage was still out of it, unable to process her failure.
“Armin wanted me to give you a kiss. It’d upset Julie.” Mara observed giddily, looking up at the segaris tree. She withdrew her wand, looking over to Ranva’s motionless form. Her thoughts idly turned to the calculations on the sheer magnitude of power within this chamber. It was like her. A vast reservoir that couldn’t let it all out. She laughed to herself hysterically, extracting a concerned look from the pair holding her.
“Mara? Mara, we need you. If you can stop this, you can kiss me all you like.” Solvi teased with some desperation colouring her voice. Julie nodded aggressively with eyes wide as the barrier the mage had erected began to display signs of wearing thin. The emanations within this chamber alone could kill them, Mara thought to herself. Without the barrier, they would look just like Renaud.
“Not much I can do. You need the Crook to use Avon Soram. You can’t have just anyone using your continent-spanning doomsday device.” Mara explained over her shoulder, arching her eyebrows at the panicking Twitcher. “They’re trying to put the control rods in. Ironically, none of this would have happened if I’d just told Renaud to bugger off in Arawn’s temple.” The mage thought aloud as she rolled onto her front, staggering to her feet moments later. “Now the entire thing’s going critical. Too much power in the engine. Nowhere for it to go. Bottles up and up until it explodes. Entire city’ll be gone. Probably any city near the conduits too. Biggest power surge in history.” Mara continued her way up the stairs, arriving next to the panicking Twitcher who looked at her like she’d gone mad. She seemed unreasonably calm considering the situation.
“What’re we doin’ here then? We gotta run!” Fred shouted, looking toward the ever-shrinking tunnel of flames that was their only egress. Mara fixed him with a sad stare and realisation slowly dawned on him. With a regretful laugh, he settled between two roots and lit his pipe. “T’be honest, never thought I’d die so spectacular-like.” Fred bantered up at Mara, who appeared to be mulling something over in her mind. Twitcher staggered back, seating themselves on the steps with their head in their hands.
“Oh no you don’t. Since when do we accept death?” Solvi growled, marching up the steps with some visible discomfort. With a vexed grunt, she drew ever more power from the Guillotine. Arthur joined them, his expression just as resolute as Solvi’s. “Damn the statistics, damn the mechanics. It lives and breathes as we do.” The Orsan asserted, causing Twitcher’s eyes to widen with sudden realisation. Mara did not change her repose, merely looking over to her with cynical eyes.
“In the face of the inevitable, we turn to faith in the blind hope we might prevail.” Arthur quoted scripture. He then knelt and began to heal Solvi’s wounds as best he could. It was a miracle she could walk, let alone make it to this godsforsaken place. “If there is even the sliver of a chance, you have to do something. Not for us, not for yourself. But for the thousands who will never know.” The cleric commanded the intransigent Mara, who was beginning to understand Armin’s fury. She’d clawed her way from Annun, across the continent and lost everything she thought was real. And here she was again, being asked to die.
“Oh, why not?” Mara sighed reluctantly, getting to her feet and placing her hands directly upon the tree. The console flickered and shimmered out of sight, the elf closing her eyes as she began to concentrate. Twitcher watched in amazement as her friend’s form surged with magical energy, a desperate battle for control raging between them. Mara yelped with pain, being driven away from the tree. She rubbed her wrist, growling at the obstinate foliage. “C’mon Ranva, don’t fail me now.” Mara grumbled as she took out the wand once more, whispering incantations to it. She appeared to graft the wand onto the tree, a tether of purple energies between them. Once more, Mara was repelled, the mage kicking the tree with a curse. “It’s no good!” The woman snarled as she paced about, Fred looking up at his friend. With a sigh, he removed the stem of his pipe and exhaled a plume of smoke.
“’Course it isn’t. But that ain’t reason to stop tryin’. The struggle never stops.” The skitti man encouraged, clapping Mara on the small of her back. The mage seethed, the leather of her gloves crackling with the clenching of her fists. Yet Fred held firm, staring up at her almost challengingly.
Solvi emerged from the stairs, settling into an alcove that lay under the luminous boughs of the tree. She patted the ground next to her as invitation, waving off the rest of the party. She looked out past the platform to the gangway, watching their escape route close before their eyes. Not long now. Soon, Avon Soram would detonate and deliver destruction unheard of since the Godswar. She couldn’t begin to fathom the terror the innocents of Yanhelm or Lureaux would feel as the ground erupted with torrents of purple fire. They deserved better than a re-enactment of the war that took so much from so many. And so, Solvi placed an arm about Mara comfortingly.
“These are not my last minutes. My last minutes were on that shoreline. You’ve been the best of afterlives.” Solvi turned her face to look at Mara, the elf’s eyes peeping from behind the mask. “Remember when you directed the energy of the temple? You were yourself in that moment. Your true self. Not an aspiring Renaud. Not a meek elf. But a force of nature. When I saw that, I knew what you could be.” The Orsan hissed as she moved, an apologetic look meeting Mara’s confused features. “Do you know why I kept my tattoos? I could have burned them, disfigured them, covered them in illusions. And I would avoid much of my shame whenever I look at myself.” Solvi asked as she drew down her sleeve, displaying the tattoos all Orsan had of their tribal origin. Hers were more ornate, being from a noble caste. Mara absently traced her hand over her companion’s forearm before those same fingers came to rest on the blackened veins around her own eyes. “My shame is as much my own as my pride, my stubbornness. My affection for all of you. Especially my Mara.” Solvi admitted with a tender smile, bringing her roommate’s head to rest against her shoulder. “We must heed the lessons of Ranva, now. We must both let go of our shame. The truth of this world will not bargain with a mask.” Solvi intoned with a solemnity that the mage had rarely seen. But she had to admit there was merit to it all. Armin had said something similar. It would not do to die with someone else’s face, after all.
“Promise me you’ll still be there if I survive.” Mara asked in a small voice, knowing well what even glimpses of her true self did to people. The disgust, the revulsion, the fear they felt was worn plainly on their faces. Mara stood without waiting for a reply, knowing that her time was short. Even if they scorned her, rejected her, she could not bear the weight of failing a second time.
“It doesn’t matter what’s under there. So long as the woman I know wasn’t the mask, I will always be here.” Solvi gripped her companion’s shoulder. Mara drew a steadying breath, only to find Twitcher’s hand on her other shoulder. Fred clapped her on the back while Arthur banged his mace against his shield approvingly.
“Save her. For both of us.” Julie whispered in the mage’s ear in a tone that was both encouraging and implicit threat. Mara smiled despite herself, once again taking hold of the wand. With her other hand, she peeled back her robe and whipped her sickle from her belt. No, it was his. His home, from which he’d saved her life so many times. One last time, Van Brenin. One last time.
With a cry of exertion, Mara slammed the sickle into the bark of the tree. The magic retorted like Fred’s rifle, flooding her vision with bright white light. The mage screamed her fury against the tide, refusing to budge against the onslaught. She would save them all. Every single soul that walked upon Phasia and called it home would be spared death, devastation, destruction and despair. They would walk in the light and know once again a beautiful dawn. And even if they should look upon her with fear and revulsion, she would accept their rebuke. She would meet them as herself and the mask would be shattered.
“Are you so sure about that?”
“As it turns out, Ardan’s an idiot.” Armin sighed, wandering about the room the two found themselves in. It was a beautiful room carved of prismatic stone with soft light emanating from about them, as if the walls themselves were a luminous construct. Armin paced in his dark robes, bright blue eyes searching the chamber as if the answer to his predicament could be found in the quaintly dressed table or the bookshelves. He took a moment to inspect the volumes. What would they read in this place anyway? Cookbooks apparently. The wooden door that sat at the far end of the rectangular room reminded him of the door he’d seen in Mara’s dreams. Those dreams that concerned what Maddie had done to her. Vile woman, if he’d had his way she’d never have been involved in the revolution!
“Armin, where are we, exactly?” Mara asked from her repose upon the table, where she’d been laying for what felt like hours. Time was a confusing muddle in this place. Armin had driven himself mad by counting the exact seconds that passed while he’d waited the first time. For the measure of his madness, he’d counted thirty-one million seconds. Give or take a few thousand. This was before he’d been unceremoniously yanked to his grave.
“Mhm? Oh. We’re in Annun.” Armin answered as he stalked the bookshelves for reading material. Mara sat ramrod straight as she looked around with abject fear in her eyes. Armin looked over his shoulder from the pleasant travelog he’d discovered with a quizzical expression. “I thought that a necromancer of your calibre would realise when you were dead.” Armin chuckled, slamming the book he’d been pontificating on reading shut. Mara began to babble denials, bargains and noises of sheer panic before the elder of the two held up a hand placatingly. “Well, more specifically, your body is dead whilst I was inhabiting it. You’re something of an unfortunate passenger.” Armin explained with both palms on the table, enjoying the ability to feel the cloth under his fingers.
“This doesn’t look like a barren wasteland of snow and misery.” Mara observed somewhat comically as she removed herself from the table, stalking the room as she took in the strange prismatic walls. It was almost inoffensive with how wonderous it presented itself as.
“Ah that’s because you’re seeing it through my eyes.” Armin noted as his gaze flicked to a pair of double doors that lay at the closer end of the rectangular room. He shivered, seeming to remind himself of their business. “Mara, there’s something I have to tell you. And I’m afraid you won’t enjoy it.” Armin sighed as he took out one of the high-backed chairs. The room appeared to be similar to the council chambers used by the faculty at Yanhelm University. At least to Mara’s eye.
“Oh, would that be more or less enjoyable than the news I’m dead?” Mara replied sarcastically as her eyes found the door that resembled the one Maddie had used. Confusion overtook her as she looked towards Armin. He smiled at her condescendingly, mocking her lightly for her back-chatter.
“Again, you’re not dead. I dragged you here. Which weaves nicely into the bad news.” Armin enumerated with exasperation plain on his face. He then seemed to collect his thoughts, giving Mara time to calm herself. “I’m an anchor, Mara. When Renaud banished me, our connection ripped your soul from your body. And I’m keeping it here. Right now, your body has no impetus to continue living and is slowly shutting down. Even with your miracle of a corpse, you’ve got about five minutes.” The ghost explained with a sombre air, one that brooked no more japes or frivolity. His tone hit Mara as an asteroid, her eyes going wide with disbelief. He then noticed that Mara’s eyes were not the disquieting glowing affairs they normally were. Instead, the eyes of the original Mara gazed out at him.
“I don’t suppose you have good news?” Mara asked with a weak attempt at humour, a frown of consternation being her response. Armin then seemed to think things over, a grunt of frustration escaping him.
“We were going to unravel the mysteries of death together.” Armin moped, sliding his face into his hands as he did so. “But there is no solution to this conundrum. The only choice I get is whether I die alone or with a friend.” The necromancer explained with fists clenched as he considered the enormity of that statement. Mara looked up at her friend with sad eyes, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
Their solemnity was interrupted by an insistent, echoing knocking at the double doors. Both of their heads whipped around to see what had happened. Whoever lay on the other side of the door, they were patient. They did not barge in or knock insistently. Mara’s eyebrows dropped as she looked over to Armin.
“Were you expecting guests in this psychic landscape?” The mage asked with a cynical edge. “Who is it?” Mara hollered to the mysterious caller with a facetiously light tone. Seconds stretched forth with no answer, not even from Armin who looked at the door as if the Yandite horde itself lay on the other side.
“He who waits for all of us. Who we must all meet eventually.” Armin whispered as if he were afraid the monster that demanded entry would hear. Mara understood the meaning of his melodrama, rolling her eyes. The elvish man gave her a warning look. A look that shifted to one of indignant disdain as his thoughts seemed to be carried away by the terror he felt. “Why are you here? Haven’t I given you enough? Am I do die in perpetuity for other people?! When do I get to choose the hour or the place?!” Armin demanded of the door, losing his composure. He threw a book at the wood spitefully, which did not react in the slightest.
Mara guided Armin to the nearby seat, taking his hand in two of her own as she sat next to him. The two of them sat in silence for the moment, enjoying each other’s company in this strange place. Both knew their time was short, but solace in the face of the end was something they both shared. Once Armin’s temper seemed to restrain itself, his eyes never leaving the door. He wore a look of disdain so potent that Mara squeezed his hand reassuringly.
“If it helps, you can choose. I’ve got nothing for me back there. Especially not after Renaud is through with them.” Mara smiled at her friend, lowering her hood. With a relieved grunt, she removed her mask and placed it upon the table. Shaking her blonde hair free of its binding, she allowed herself a rueful laugh. “Gods, I was pretty, wasn’t I? You know what Solvi said to me? That I was always worthy of her.” Mara recounted with a bitter laugh, looking over her shoulder at the double doors. It was Armin’s turn to stop his vigil, looking at Mara’s original features with a placating smile.
“I still haven’t forgiven her for booting me out of your body.” Armin chuckled as he recalled the night in the caravan. “You should thank her. It was her actions that allowed you to even have this choice.” The necromancer informed her pointedly. They both started when the knocking at the door became three thunderous blows, echoing throughout the room. “Oh, would you look at that, our time is shorter than I’d hoped.” Armin laughed nervously, standing and pacing almost in place. He looked all about as if trying to spy some escape. When nothing presented itself, his fists curled once more, and a gasp of irritation left his lips.
“We have as much time as we need.” Mara smiled reassuringly, indicating the seat before her. Instead, Armin took both her hands in his and whipped her to her feet. He stared at her with such seriousness that Mara’s smile faltered. She set her expression and nodded towards her friend, tears beginning to coalesce in her eyes.
“No, we never had as much as we needed. I meant what I said. You made me a better man.” Armin began, swallowing hard against the tide of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. Like a rock in the Bay of Fangs, he stood firm. “I’m giving you back, Mara. Because you have so much to live for. The love of your friends, the hope of a better life. My life is over. I died before you were born.” Her elder affirmed with such emphasis that Mara nodded despite herself. She’d never heard such conviction from him. “Lorana was right, Mara. You have to let go.” He continued, eyes flicking to the double doors as they practically rattled in their frames. Mara attempted to look back but was stopped by Armin’s firm hand. “This face? This face is a fantasy. A fiction you’ve been clinging to for seventy years. And you deserved to. It kept you going. But the weight of voiceless scorn, disdain unspoken, has weighed you down long enough. So, if you’ll grant a dying man his last request?” Armin asked in a voice constricted with fear and sadness, his eyes streaming with open weeping. He would face it for her. The torment he so richly deserved for crimes he’d knowingly committed. Justice was not something he was used to seeing. How novel that it would be delivered unto him first.
“Armin, you don’t have to die I’ll find a way.” Mara pleaded as she opened her pocketbook, showing him the half-baked fictions, she’d made of the resurrection spell. Armin closed the book with his hands, shaking his head. Mara sobbed with her head pressed to his chest as she let the despair overcome her. The splintering wood behind them drove Armin to insist, gripping both of his friend’s shoulders. “Anything. I don’t want you to go Armin.” Mara wept, barely able to keep herself upright from the hysterical sadness that gripped her. “What’ll I do without you?”
“You’ll survive. You’ll live. And, if I may be so bold, you’ll kick Ardan’s backside back into Annun where he belongs.” Armin smirked, pushing the other mage behind him as he did so. His eyes were now fixed upon the figure emerging through the shattered remains of the door, its sword glistening in the prismatic light. Mara could not tell what it was, only that it was robed and vaguely humanoid. “This is goodbye, Mara. Give Solvi a kiss from me, would you?” Armin jested over his shoulder as his entire body quaked before the figure that sauntered slowly towards the pair. Shoved away by her friend, Mara began to run for the door of wood and stone, not daring to look back for fear of the monster.
“Just me, I’m afraid.” Armin’s voice drifted over to Mara, who managed to prise the door open as the sound of clanking manacles being snapped shut pierced her ears. Then came the sound of Armin being dragged away as he bravely attempted to hold back his sobbing.
“Thy purpose remains yet unfulfilled.” A sinister baritone voice thundered in Mara’s mind as she ran through the door and into the blackness beyond. At first, she felt as if she were falling, screaming at the nothingness as she felt it fly past her. With a sudden thump, Mara sucked in a breath. The thumping increased in speed until what it was became clear. Her own frantic heartbeat. The mage looked above to see the swirling inferno of purple fire and, out of the corner of her eye, a cursing Renaud wrestling with the console of ephemeral panes and writing. With quick thinking, she closed her eyes once more. She gathered her strength until she felt Renaud’s footstep on her outstretched forearm on his way down the steps. He called for someone to help him, angrily demanding to know what the device was doing.
“Gaius!” Mara barked, jumping to her feet with magic already forming on her hands. Renaud whirled about to see his sana wrap her fingers about the Crook, a detonation of necrotic energy sending the man flying into the barricades. Only then did Mara feel safe enough to take in her surroundings.
The circular platform bristled with lightning strikes, the aulind glowing an intense orange as the nullstun failed to contain the energies within. Her friends lay scattered about, sheltered in the shadow of the barricades. Every so often, one of the lightning strikes would impact a barricade causing it to glow a vicious, putrid purple almost black in colour. Her friends were not moving. Even Ranva lay broken upon the sparking floor. The illusions Renaud had manifested were no more, whipped away in the inferno that even now grew in intensity. Mara looked upwards with a small laugh, pointing towards the tunnel of the gangway. A tunnel barely held open by a mineral slowly becoming saturated.
“If you’re looking for the exit, it’s right there. I suggest you take it.” Mara pointed over Renaud’s shoulder. His head craned around with the desperate eyes of a trapped animal. The Crook was the tool of Arawn. If Mara chose to use it, the fury wrought could be devastating. “The intake conduits are working; the control rods have all been withdrawn to get your pretty light show. Now, the entire structure’s going to go critical. If only you hadn’t knocked the engineer unconscious.” Mara pointed to the still form of Twitcher, steadily walking towards them with easy steps. Her eyes never left Renaud’s and though her tone was casual, her eyes were as diamonds. He was under no illusions as to what would happen if he tried anything.
“She was a traitor to her people. The world is well rid of-.” Renaud began his venomous rant, only to be cut off by a vicious whip of energy from Mara. He held a hand to his bleeding cheek, reacting to the illusion as if he had blood to spill.
“My patience is running thin, Gaius. I’m not stupid enough to use the Crook.” Mara informed him with that same dreadfully casual air. She knelt next to Twitcher, poring over their form with negligent eyes. Renaud allowed himself a cruel smile, shaking his head at his sana’s arrogance. To think a mediocre talent such as her was threatening him. She seemed more concerned with the revcel than anything at the moment. And so, Gaius knelt down and slid a golden blade behind his back.
“You’d better use it. Because I will use Avom Soram and I will free Mira from her fetters.” Renaud snorted. “Without your better half, without a crutch, without your pet you are nothing.” He spat as he began to stalk towards Mara, hand poised outwards as if he intended to cast a spell. His sana’s eyes flicked up from her injured friend, regarding him with cold indifference. “You don’t and never will hold a candle to my prowess.” Renaud bristled, his anger taking control of him. He lashed out with the same spell that had laid Fred low. It detonated in his hand, counteracted before he’d even spoken the words. Renaud sank to his knee, clutching his smoking hand to his chest.
“With you that might have been true.” Mara admitted as she stood, the purple flames around them bending outwards. They licked at the barriers protecting the rest of the facility, the sound of shattering glass warning them of criticality. “Without you, I am the sun by comparison.” Mara seethed, the glow of her irises consuming her eyes as Renaud felt the working of a tidal wave. He expected some form of necrotic energy, counteracting the most powerful spell he knew Mara used. Yet as his spell reached out to snatch the power, it found purchase on nothing. Mara’s spell instead reached out to the fallen forms of her comrades, forcing open the collapsing tunnel of flames. The entire platform became shrouded in a dark shield that kept the lightning at bay.
The Marshal looked with horror to see the wounds on those he’d felled begin to stitch together, Fred being the first to rise to his feet. He looked at his hands in disbelief, face turning to see Twitcher rolling onto their front. They checked their arm sword, finding their body still damaged. Ranva did not stir, even as Arthur cast aside his heavily dented breastplate.
“Resurrection?!” Renaud gasped, eyes going wide. He roared, making a desperate last dash to impale his sana upon Ranva’s blade. Mara had seemingly expected the attack, stepping to one side before slamming the Crook onto his back. It carried with it the force of a spell, causing him to fall retching to the floor.
“I’m a medic not a miracle worker.” Mara corrected snidely, placing a boot firmly on Renaud’s shoulder before rolling him over. She then pressed her boot to his neck. He gasped, weakly grasping the boot to buy himself the power of speech. “Your magic is expended. Your plan has failed. The Army lies in ruins. Surrender and you may yet live.” Mara leaned down, her eyes meeting the false illusory ones Renaud insisted on using. Even that trivial magic for him had begun to fail, his face looking drawn and sallow. It didn’t stop a coughing, scornful laughter escaping him, a look of disbelief etched into his every feature.
“Seriously? What crimes am I guilty of? Even if justice is served and I am sent to Tessa Dol, what’s ten, twenty, or fifty years to an elf?” Renaud chided with a condescending tone, as if Mara were once again his naïve student. “You think me my lowliest recruits? Destitute and alone, without purpose or direction? No. I am a man of conviction. With every breath, every dawn I see, I will work to bring about the empire. If you kill me, another will rise to carry my hopes. Do whatever you will, sana. I will not relent.” Renaud spat, his face a contortion of emotions as he struggled against the boot. Mara seemed torn between decisions, claws beginning to form along her forearm. To think that she’d once considered this man a second father. A good man. This creature sullied even her memories of him. She looked to Twitcher with hateful eyes, the automaton nodding before climbing the steps to assess the damage.
“If Mara struggles to be your executioner, you’ll find no shortage of ready replacements.” Solvi’s voice cut through the air, causing the party to turn to the gangway. The tall Orsan woman was supported by Julie, who wore the set jaw of a woman on a mission. Solvi herself appeared to be clutching her mother’s axe, drawing on its power for some unknown purpose. “My halberd was made to end you, Gaius.” Solvi chuckled as she hobbled up the steps, Julie’s armour clanking with them. The Idharan wore a black-enamelled ensemble. It was a well-made set that carried a chain bearing the seal of the IXth Legion. Mara chuckled to herself weakly, the absurdity of it all almost driving her to hysterics. The Orsan was in love with a IXth Legionary.
“Regrettably, I shall have to teach my sana one final lesson before you do.” Gaius grinned from beneath the boot, Fred pointing his rifle directly between the elf’s eyes. Mara looked to his hand, seeing that the trigger was already held. “There’s no such thing as magical expenditure for a man prepared to burn.” Her sora cackled, Mara already in the process of casting the killing blow as he ripped her foot from under her. Fred’s bullet exploded next to his face, sending shards of nullstun into his skull. In her fall, Mara lost grip of the Crook. A grip Renaud was ready to exploit. He grabbed it, drawing the purple flames from above to his aid. Screeching a teleportation spell through searing lips, he vanished from their sight.
Julie and Solvi caught Mara, who gazed dumbly at the spot where Renaud had just been. She then looked to her palm, empty of the Crook. Only then did she look up at the armoured Julie and resolved Solvi with a whimper of sorrow.
“I’m sorry. I should have. But I couldn’t.” Mara sniffed, Solvi taking her in her arms comfortingly. Julie attempted to soothe the inconsolable mage even as she looked up to an increasingly worried Twitcher. Fred sidled up to them, casting an eye over the console helplessly. Arthur busied himself with healing his own wounds, which were far graver than his fellows. Every so often he would cry out before biting down on the leather strap of his breastplate. Somewhere far from the room, Mara thought how many scars he would have afterward.
Twitcher was babbling in Elysian, plying the console with their one working hand in desperation. Fred did not speak a lick of Elysian but by the gods, that was a lot of red warnings. He looked over his shoulder, calling for Mara to translate for them. The mage was still out of it, unable to process her failure.
“Armin wanted me to give you a kiss. It’d upset Julie.” Mara observed giddily, looking up at the segaris tree. She withdrew her wand, looking over to Ranva’s motionless form. Her thoughts idly turned to the calculations on the sheer magnitude of power within this chamber. It was like her. A vast reservoir that couldn’t let it all out. She laughed to herself hysterically, extracting a concerned look from the pair holding her.
“Mara? Mara, we need you. If you can stop this, you can kiss me all you like.” Solvi teased with some desperation colouring her voice. Julie nodded aggressively with eyes wide as the barrier the mage had erected began to display signs of wearing thin. The emanations within this chamber alone could kill them, Mara thought to herself. Without the barrier, they would look just like Renaud.
“Not much I can do. You need the Crook to use Avon Soram. You can’t have just anyone using your continent-spanning doomsday device.” Mara explained over her shoulder, arching her eyebrows at the panicking Twitcher. “They’re trying to put the control rods in. Ironically, none of this would have happened if I’d just told Renaud to bugger off in Arawn’s temple.” The mage thought aloud as she rolled onto her front, staggering to her feet moments later. “Now the entire thing’s going critical. Too much power in the engine. Nowhere for it to go. Bottles up and up until it explodes. Entire city’ll be gone. Probably any city near the conduits too. Biggest power surge in history.” Mara continued her way up the stairs, arriving next to the panicking Twitcher who looked at her like she’d gone mad. She seemed unreasonably calm considering the situation.
“What’re we doin’ here then? We gotta run!” Fred shouted, looking toward the ever-shrinking tunnel of flames that was their only egress. Mara fixed him with a sad stare and realisation slowly dawned on him. With a regretful laugh, he settled between two roots and lit his pipe. “T’be honest, never thought I’d die so spectacular-like.” Fred bantered up at Mara, who appeared to be mulling something over in her mind. Twitcher staggered back, seating themselves on the steps with their head in their hands.
“Oh no you don’t. Since when do we accept death?” Solvi growled, marching up the steps with some visible discomfort. With a vexed grunt, she drew ever more power from the Guillotine. Arthur joined them, his expression just as resolute as Solvi’s. “Damn the statistics, damn the mechanics. It lives and breathes as we do.” The Orsan asserted, causing Twitcher’s eyes to widen with sudden realisation. Mara did not change her repose, merely looking over to her with cynical eyes.
“In the face of the inevitable, we turn to faith in the blind hope we might prevail.” Arthur quoted scripture. He then knelt and began to heal Solvi’s wounds as best he could. It was a miracle she could walk, let alone make it to this godsforsaken place. “If there is even the sliver of a chance, you have to do something. Not for us, not for yourself. But for the thousands who will never know.” The cleric commanded the intransigent Mara, who was beginning to understand Armin’s fury. She’d clawed her way from Annun, across the continent and lost everything she thought was real. And here she was again, being asked to die.
“Oh, why not?” Mara sighed reluctantly, getting to her feet and placing her hands directly upon the tree. The console flickered and shimmered out of sight, the elf closing her eyes as she began to concentrate. Twitcher watched in amazement as her friend’s form surged with magical energy, a desperate battle for control raging between them. Mara yelped with pain, being driven away from the tree. She rubbed her wrist, growling at the obstinate foliage. “C’mon Ranva, don’t fail me now.” Mara grumbled as she took out the wand once more, whispering incantations to it. She appeared to graft the wand onto the tree, a tether of purple energies between them. Once more, Mara was repelled, the mage kicking the tree with a curse. “It’s no good!” The woman snarled as she paced about, Fred looking up at his friend. With a sigh, he removed the stem of his pipe and exhaled a plume of smoke.
“’Course it isn’t. But that ain’t reason to stop tryin’. The struggle never stops.” The skitti man encouraged, clapping Mara on the small of her back. The mage seethed, the leather of her gloves crackling with the clenching of her fists. Yet Fred held firm, staring up at her almost challengingly.
Solvi emerged from the stairs, settling into an alcove that lay under the luminous boughs of the tree. She patted the ground next to her as invitation, waving off the rest of the party. She looked out past the platform to the gangway, watching their escape route close before their eyes. Not long now. Soon, Avon Soram would detonate and deliver destruction unheard of since the Godswar. She couldn’t begin to fathom the terror the innocents of Yanhelm or Lureaux would feel as the ground erupted with torrents of purple fire. They deserved better than a re-enactment of the war that took so much from so many. And so, Solvi placed an arm about Mara comfortingly.
“These are not my last minutes. My last minutes were on that shoreline. You’ve been the best of afterlives.” Solvi turned her face to look at Mara, the elf’s eyes peeping from behind the mask. “Remember when you directed the energy of the temple? You were yourself in that moment. Your true self. Not an aspiring Renaud. Not a meek elf. But a force of nature. When I saw that, I knew what you could be.” The Orsan hissed as she moved, an apologetic look meeting Mara’s confused features. “Do you know why I kept my tattoos? I could have burned them, disfigured them, covered them in illusions. And I would avoid much of my shame whenever I look at myself.” Solvi asked as she drew down her sleeve, displaying the tattoos all Orsan had of their tribal origin. Hers were more ornate, being from a noble caste. Mara absently traced her hand over her companion’s forearm before those same fingers came to rest on the blackened veins around her own eyes. “My shame is as much my own as my pride, my stubbornness. My affection for all of you. Especially my Mara.” Solvi admitted with a tender smile, bringing her roommate’s head to rest against her shoulder. “We must heed the lessons of Ranva, now. We must both let go of our shame. The truth of this world will not bargain with a mask.” Solvi intoned with a solemnity that the mage had rarely seen. But she had to admit there was merit to it all. Armin had said something similar. It would not do to die with someone else’s face, after all.
“Promise me you’ll still be there if I survive.” Mara asked in a small voice, knowing well what even glimpses of her true self did to people. The disgust, the revulsion, the fear they felt was worn plainly on their faces. Mara stood without waiting for a reply, knowing that her time was short. Even if they scorned her, rejected her, she could not bear the weight of failing a second time.
“It doesn’t matter what’s under there. So long as the woman I know wasn’t the mask, I will always be here.” Solvi gripped her companion’s shoulder. Mara drew a steadying breath, only to find Twitcher’s hand on her other shoulder. Fred clapped her on the back while Arthur banged his mace against his shield approvingly.
“Save her. For both of us.” Julie whispered in the mage’s ear in a tone that was both encouraging and implicit threat. Mara smiled despite herself, once again taking hold of the wand. With her other hand, she peeled back her robe and whipped her sickle from her belt. No, it was his. His home, from which he’d saved her life so many times. One last time, Van Brenin. One last time.
With a cry of exertion, Mara slammed the sickle into the bark of the tree. The magic retorted like Fred’s rifle, flooding her vision with bright white light. The mage screamed her fury against the tide, refusing to budge against the onslaught. She would save them all. Every single soul that walked upon Phasia and called it home would be spared death, devastation, destruction and despair. They would walk in the light and know once again a beautiful dawn. And even if they should look upon her with fear and revulsion, she would accept their rebuke. She would meet them as herself and the mask would be shattered.
“Are you so sure about that?”
