Argrave closed and opened his hand as he sat on the beach with Sophia. He wore temporary rags, his body barely responded to him, but there was no denying he was alive. There was nothing quite like losing it all to appreciate how much he had. Theorizing about the impermanence of his body’s death was all well and good, but truth be told, that had been one of the most harrowing experiences, and he’d surely remember it forevermore.
And not merely because of what’d been done to him—also because of what he’d learned.
He’d been given a glimpse of the purpose of the Hopeful truly was when his mind had been consumed by the thing. The master of the Shadowlands wasn’t a subordinate of the Heralds—he was an equal, perhaps something even beyond that. He certainly wasn’t a simple tool or slave, and nor were the Shadowlands something insignificant to the larger scheme of things. It might be said the Hopeful was at the crux of it all.
But the Heralds... their name was literal. They heralded something else—a massive change, a shift of the paradigm. The Hopeful actually knew what that change was, expected it... hoped for it, like nothing else. His anticipation of the ecstasy he’d experience in the coming change was so strong his face was permanently warped like that in voluntary enthusiasm. It was a disturbing show of faith.
Argrave had always suspected—been outright told, even—that this entire cycle was in service of something else. Confirming that suspicion did nothing to make him pause or arouse his curiosity.
With his thoughts slowing, he looked at Sophia. She looked totally exhausted. He put his hand on her head and she flinched, woken up from near-sleep.
“You did good, Sophia. You’re doing great.” He shakily rose to his feet. “Let’s get going.”
He trudged along up the sand, heading for the parliamentary hall where his sister and Anneliese would be struggling valiantly against what they were up against. Sophia tried to follow along, but she stumbled from fatigue a few times. Argrave picked her up and walked along.
“I can walk,” Sophia said quietly.
“You can,” he answered back, but didn’t put her down.
With that, nothing more needed to be said. Within Blackgard, the only evidence of the raging battle against Gerechtigkeit was the sight of it looming above in flashes of light. The city sounded serene, undisturbed. The Domain of Order Argrave had imposed using Law’s blessing still persisted, keeping the peace. Everyone was either inside their home, or had sought refuge in the various shelters they’d established.
At some point, Sophia fell asleep as Argrave steadily walked through the silent city. It was a steeling reminder to witness the beautiful city he’d helped flourished—a still image of one little picture comprising the larger one. When he finally arrived at the parliamentary hall, he saw Anneliese and Raven leaving.
“Argrave,” Anneliese called out, rushing up to greet him. “I was just about to come for you. You’re well? At least... well enough?”
“Stiff,” he said, then added, “I’m sure it’ll pass.”
“Law’s been holding his own against Gerechtigkeit, stalling,” she said in some small relief. “But it seems like nothing we do can cause significant damage to Gerechtigkeit. We’d intended to go to Hause, now.”
“Time for her to make good on her word,” Raven shook his head. “If she hadn’t been so foolishly cautious, all of this might’ve been avoided.”
“It might do nothing,” Anneliese countered.
“And it might do everything,” he answered back just as firmly.
Anneliese looked up. “Whatever the case, the situation has stabilized. The longer it stretches on, though, the more powerful he’ll get. We’re losing ground second by second. The Great Chu... I can’t even think about it.”
“No time to waste, then,” Argrave muttered beneath his breath. “Where are we going?”
“I’d intended to study you for insight on that wound.” Raven looked up to the sky—south toward Jast, where that great crack in reality persisted, visible even when one’s eyes were closed. “But you had to go and die, removing any trace it might’ve left on your body. Now you’re useless to me.”
“What, then?” Argrave pressed.
“We go to Hause,” Anneliese outlined. “We see what she can do for us. Raven, meanwhile...”
Raven ground his huge obsidian staff into the ground. “I’ve been considering taking the role I’d cast aside.”
Argrave’s face grew serious. “You’re needed,” he said simply. “Not as you were, but as you are.”
“We’re losing.” Raven walked closer to Argrave, and though his figure had become more human-like, the fact remained he towered over him. “If what Hause gives us is insufficient, we will lose. The Smiling Raven may help us win. That sun you made—it harbors people’s souls. Potentiation may not even pose any risk to me anymore. Their minds may not overrun my own.” ŗA????оbΕṠ
“You don’t know that,” Argrave argued. “And besides, Lorena said the lunar dragons could do what you do as well—and if that’s true, potentiation poses no risk for them, either. We don’t need to risk losing you to that creature.”
“I’ll play my role—I’ll help discover how to hunt Gerechtigkeit where he truly lives. After, though... unless I have confidence of our victory, I’ll do what I deem necessary.”
“Raven...!” Argrave stepped forward.
“That’s my decision,” he said. Then, he turned and walked away, fading into the silent city before Argrave could say another word.
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