Lyza listens to Caerulâs longwinded explanation calmly, nodding gently at appropriate moments and encouraging her to continue as she sits and nurses her beer, gradually slowing down as she realizes sheâd want to be a little less drunk than expected for this conversation.
About halfway through the monologue, she begins to feel the onset of a headache coming on, and it had nothing to do with the booze. The answer to her question had been a bit more complicated that she had anticipated, and perhaps implicated other delvers as well, perhaps even the Guild. Part of her felt like simply not dealing with this like she would have had to in the past, and to just walk away and dismiss the rookie was the best option.
But more than that, Lyza felt sympathy for the poor girl, and most of all she saw a reflection of herself; struggling for recognition, railing at the world to be seen, to be given the chance to prove yourself. That more than anything proved to be a thorn lodged in her thoughts as Lyza weighed up how she was going to respond, tucking a strand of her hair behind an ear and pinching at her nose to rub her eyes as she realizes that she also wasnât going to be able to feel right with herself leaving this girl in the lurch.
âItâs one thing to be brave and reckless, Caerul, but more than your mentors deaths, if you spent any period of time with a serious disregard for the safety of yourself and others⌠that would have been reason enough alone for no one to vouch for your black whistle.âÂ
She sighs heavily, feeling the weight of the âbutâ on her tongue ready to be spoken, not letting her leave it at that. She sips her drink pensively, eyes falling and letting her hair cover them in shadow as she swishes the mug around and watches the dwindling drink swirl.
Instead she murmurs quietly, almost too low for Caerul to hear. âI know how that feels myself. Wanting to die. To not have to face the pain anymore.â
Lyzaâs quiet for several drawn out moments afterwards, before she chugs back the last of the mug, sets it down carefully on the table, waves to one of the barmaids with a quick shout, and then to her drinking buddies. âMarianne, put the bill on my tab, wouldya dear? Youâre a darlin, thanks. Early night, boys, got stuff to take care of! Donât burst your livers without me to carry you home!â
Lyza moves to stand, swinging up her bag as she gestures to Caerul to follow with a curtness suggesting that itâs more of a gentle order than an invitation. âWalk with me, fly-girl. Better to have this talk somewhere quieter, where no oneâs listeninâ in.â She strolls slowly outside into the street and lazily turns into the alleys, not looking back to see if Caerul was keeping up as she gets out of the busy nightlife district and into somewhere quieter and more private.
Lyza stretches out her arms and fingers behind her back to work out the kinks in her muscles, trying to shake out the weariness in her bones as she prepares herself for what sheâs going to say. It doesnât feel like enough, and she doesnât want to say it, but when she does itâs with a confident softness, clear but unlikely to be overheard. âDo you know what it means, to be sponsored by a White Whistle?â She asks, âTo have a heroâs name on your application? Even if I wasnât a ghost back from the grave and trying to keep a low profile, looking at a kind of retirement.â
She turns slowly and looks Caerul directly in the eye. Her expression has a thoughtful melancholy to it, like sheâs delivering bad news, but her eyes lock to Caeruls and treat her seriously as an adult, as an equal. âThe expectations on you would be⌠immense. Maybe even more so, with your previous record. You wouldnât be able to scrape by with just guts and a dream, Caerul. Everyone would be watching you. Watching me.â
âWhen I started my training, Ozen never let me off easy, even once. It was brutal, grueling, relentless. It had to be, to live up to her expectations. To mine. To everyoneâs.â She leans against one of the stone railings against a ledge overlooking the city, the Abyss, and runs her fingers over the seams between the stones as she reminisces. âEven though I wanted it so badly, that Iâd begged Ozen for months, and endured her abuse as she tried to ward me off, there were still times when even I felt the urge to give up and be rid of it all, to settle for Moon, or for Black. That being a White Whistle wasnât worth the cost.â
âSo before I could even begin to seriously consider doing anything for you, I really have to ask you, and please, donât try to be brave and lie to me. Is that really what youâre looking for?â Thereâs a sadness on her face, as if what Caerul was asking was a death sentence for both of them. But what Lyza really felt was almost a kind of⌠envy. âYou have a stable job, even if itâs not glamorous. Your sister is here in Orth, and you have a home you can always go back to. You may get your Black Whistle from someone else eventually if you keep up your good work, even if it takes years, or decades. And youâll still have a good life if you never take this path deeper into the Abyss.â
She turns over, leaning back against the wall to look back at Caerul again with a gentle smile. âYou have potential and promise that shines as clear as day, and Iâll never deny that. And if the Abyss is calling you as deeply as it does me⌠I donât think I could sleep right if I stood by and denied you that either.â
âBut I need you to be certain. Absolutely certain, that asking me for this is what you want. That you want it so bad, you donât feel like you have any other choice.â
Whatever fragile composure Caerul had assembled shattered at Lyzaâs all-too familiar condemnation. She hung her head eyes trained on the ground to hide the expression nonetheless written all over her slumped posture.. Sheâd heard similar words before. The censure of the orphanage director at her expulsion; the rebuke of her second mentor, before heâd been strong-armed into taking over her training from her first; the rejections of everyone she had approached for guidance since. She had thought she was numb to them by this point. She had been sure she had thickened her skin to the reproach of her past. But from Lyza, the wound was as fresh and deep as ever. From Lyza, it was even deeper.
Caerul was so overwhelmed by her spiral that she almost lost Lyzaâs whispered confession in the din of the tavern. Almost. Her gaze crept back up to the legendary White Whistleâs half-hidden face, watery blue eyes searching disbelievingly. She couldnât have heard that correctly⌠could she? That even Lyza the AnnihilatorâSovereign of Annihilation, the Exterminator, Orthâs valiant destroyer, terror of any who dared challenge her in the deepâgrappled with such darkness? Caerul rubbed her temples, returned to staring at the floor once more. In the ensuing silence, she wrestled with a reconciliation of hero and human that would have been difficult for her sober. By the time Lyza broke it, sheâd made little progress.
Caerul stood up carefully, surprised but not unprepared for Lyzaâs directive; sheâd intended to excuse herself shortly, though sheâd hardly expected to be doing so together. Shakily she followed her through the crowd, wings tucked out of the way behind her. With Lyza leading the way, there was no need to muscle through as she had on arrival. Once clear of the tavern, she stretched them out again, adjusting their span to counter her wobbly balance.
Caerul walked in silence as they departed the late-night bustle, head spinning. Sheâd been exceptionally foolish to speak so freely; AMF be damned, she knew better than to spill her shameful story. Sure, it wasnât exactly a secretâthat it was public knowledge was what had set her on these duplicitous bar crawls in the first placeâbut thus far, her idol had seemed ignorant of her past failures. Sheâd treated her with respect, without scorn. She may have admonished Caerulâs everyday foolishness, but playfully, without revulsion. That someone else might expose her had haunted Caerul ever since that fortuitous first encounter⌠but in the end, she herself had been the one to betray her. Now that she knew, Lyza surely meant to settle things definitively; to put down her foolish aspirations once and for all, as the one person that might finally accomplish that. Doing so in private was a kindness; one that deep down, Caerul didnât think she deserved. When the White Whistle finally spoke, Caerul braced herself for the worst.
But when Lyza spoke, it was not to deal out the ultimate reprimand Caerul had anticipated. Instead, it was a gentler sort of letdown. A warning; of the expectations that would hang over her, of the dangers she would face if she continued. Of the sacrifices she would make above to the adventure below. It had been a long time since Caerul had faced this kind of dissuasionâwith her devil-may-care attitude, most had given up on its useâbut once upon a time, she had heard it before. Just not from someone who knew it so intimately. Just not from someone whose word sheâd trust absolutely.
Slowly, though, it began to dawn on Caerul that Lyza didnât seek to discourage her. Lyza hadnât said âthis is why you shouldnât.â She hadnât said âthis is why you canât.â She was explaining âwhat it meantâ to be⌠sponsored by a White Whistle? What? Caerul blinked, clearing a film of unshed tears from her eyes. Listened. And slowly realized.
A warning was not necessarily a rejection. A warning could be an acceptance. An offer. With all the terms, conditions, and caveats that offer entailed.
Now, even as the White Whistle spoke gravely, her words only fueled this spark that had caught the Moonâs torn and teary heart. The heartbreak that had just threatened to overtake Caerul melted, freeing the persistent, irrational optimism that had sustained her this long to flourish once more. Despair became determination. No matter how great the expectations, sheâd exceed them. No matter how many eyes were on her, sheâd dazzle them. No matter how grueling, or painful, or impossible the challenge, Caerul would rise to meet it. Lyza spoke of hard work and sacrifice, but all Caerul heard was adventure and glory. Here was the promise of guidance and recognition sheâd craved for seven long years. Here was her path to the deepest depths. Here was the answer to her most heartfelt prayers.
Perhaps later, when she grew up enough to consider the gravity of what Lyza actually said, Caerul would have second thoughts. Perhaps, finally standing on the precipice of the point of no return, she would reconsider the decision she madeâdrunken, desperate, yet determinedâtonight. But even if she did reconsider, she would never regret it. Even if she reconsidered it, she would never wish to change it, even with everything else on the line.
âWell, I sure wouldnât have been this bloody persistent if I didnât,â Caerul said at last, her voice quivering slightly as a small but determined smile finally flickered to life. The tears that had been threatening to overflow since theyâd left the tavern finally did. She turned away to brush them aside with her forearm. âIâm notââ a hiccup interrupted her, and she reddened, but tried again ââIâm not⌠dreaming, am I?â She laughed, a fragile, shaky sort of chuckle. âThis sounds too good to be true. A heroâs name on my applicationâŚâ Unbalanced by her wings, drink, and dream, she swayed a little. Well, this wouldnât do. Caerul flapped her wings once, squared her shoulders. She turned back to meet Lyzaâs gaze directly. Â
âIâve never wanted anything more in the entire world.â
