#here it is..

Sorrow keeps Amaya moving, won’t let her sit still, follows her every step as she wanders the castle grounds at Berylgarten.

The architecture of Duren differs from that of Katolis, under different circumstances she might appreciate the curved domes of its spires, the pale lines of the buildings that contrast sharply with the vivid blue of the sky. There is only heaviness in her heart though, only the steady click of her boots against the stones.

She is surprised when she passes through an arch into one of the palace gardens to see Viren sitting there beneath a tree, his back to the trunk. It is an unusual position to see him in, the High Mage isn’t one to sit lounging around in Katolis, but they are a long way from home. They have done the unimaginable, bought back the heart of a magma titan from Xadia and restored life to Duren.

It has been paid for by death, and that cost beats its fists against her. Her sister had given her life for that of the mage, though truthfully he looks half-dead slumped beneath the branches, one hand tucked inside his jacket, the dark lines of his eyes closed to the sun.

She approaches him softly and when she is a few feet away his eyes blink open.

She sees the look of slight surprise on his face, the name that half forms in his lips and she reads it - Sarai. It is perhaps an easy enough mistake for him to make. She is out of uniform, wearing the simple red tunic of the royal household, it is much the same as her sister usually wore. Their faces are not so dissimilar and the fresh wound on hers is angled away from his line of vision. Viren doesn’t really look quite with it anyway.

For a moment she sees a look of distress cross his features as he realises his mistake. The careful, slow flicker of his eyes.

“General Amaya.” He corrects himself, gives her the stiffest of nods.

Titles it is then.

Lord Viren, she signs it out slowly for him, though she knows he is adept enough at reading them, the dark magician doesn’t like anything to slip past him.

Enjoying the view?

He looks around slowly as if he hasn’t even noticed it. The hills rolling away from the garden, verdant and green, are all of his making though. Life has come through him somehow, he has taken a heart of stone and turned it into growth. She does not know how she feels about that.

By rights he should be sitting in the court of Duren, embracing their gratitude, but nothing had gone quite as they’d planned.

“I uh, quite.”

He half shuts his eyes again. There is something not quite right about him, the heavy rise and fall of his chest, as if some weight is pressed down upon it.

She is used to observing things, has done so since childhood. She has grown adept at reading the things people like to keep hidden. It is simply a matter of paying enough attention. Most people are easy enough to read, Viren though is a different matter, she has always struggled with him.

He is a careful man most of the time, schools his features into a mask, it is the same way he weighs each choice in Council meetings, without the emotion of Harrow, without the compassion that her sister has.

Had. The ache is fresh and raw, still not one she can quite believe.

Sarai no longer has anything.

Viren’s half gaze has the same look of sorrow upon it. He had been close enough with her sister, as close as he is with the king, as close as he gets to anyone.

“I’m sorry you know. About Sarai.”

She knows he cannot read her thoughts, but there is still something vaguely disquieting about it. He is doubtless being honest though, he and Sarai didn’t agree with each other on certain matters but they had always seemed to hold each other in some odd regard, as if both held some attribute the other felt they lacked. Sarai had always seen the best in everyone and whatever his faults Viren always prioritised the kingdom.

So am I.

She sits down then, opposite him, gives him a small smile which he doesn’t quite return.

”She was…” he sighs, exhales slowly, “She was always very kind to me.”

She is surprised to see the shadow of tears in his eyes and he pinches them away roughly with his fingers.

“Sarai thought it was a bad idea, she never wanted to go.”

He looks at her and though he tries to keep his expression guarded, she can see an odd look in his eyes, it is similar to the look a wounded animal gets when it is unable to escape from the approach of a hunter.

There was no easy choice here.

She allows her fingers to linger over the words, to give them the required weight. Perhaps he is looking for absolution, it isn’t really hers to give, but she can see the distress in him.

”It was…” He stutters over the words, they don’t seem to want to form for him, she has never seen him so perturbed, it is somehow disquieting. “My fault.” He mutters at the end, drops his gaze to the grass they are sitting on, the gnarled roots of the tree that twist their way out of it like deformed snakes.

She taps his shoulder, waits until he is watching her hands.

You were right, we should have left the wounded. It was no one’s fault.

The words slip from her fingers, she isn’t sure he really sees them, he seems to look right through her.

It was the decision she would have made in battle, it was the pragmatic choice. Harrow has always veered towards a slightly selfish heroism though, as if he can somehow cheat the fates of their due. It proved just as likely to end with death.

Viren is silent for so long she thinks perhaps he hasn’t read her.

“Perhaps.” His voice seems to catch on the word, and there is a tremor to his shoulders. “Have you… have you seen the King?”

She shakes her head. Harrow has shut himself away with his grief since the spell was performed. She is surprised Viren hasn’t seen him though, he doesn’t usually like to stray too far from the King’s heels.

It was a powerful spell.

It was, it is barely within the bounds of her comprehension and she had witnessed it. She had chosen to follow the titan’s heart north to Duren instead of travelling with the spirit of her sister back to Katolis. She had wanted to make sure the mission was completed, and she had beheld something of stupendous power and might. It is no wonder people fear dark mages, no wonder perhaps that this kingdom does not possess one of their own.

Viren is not a man to be trifled with, she has always been aware of that. One thing to command a lion to do your bidding, quite another to assume that it is tame. He is bound to Harrow, seems bound to the kingdom, but he is a man with claws, he is dangerous and yet now he looks fractured, nothing more than the frail shell of a human.

She puts her hand on his shoulder and his grey eyes meet her own.

“It was.”

He rubs his chest, seems to be in some sort of pain, and for a moment he sways and she holds him steady.

She waits for him to support himself before she asks her next question.

Viren? Are you injured?

She has to ask three times before he responds with a shake of the head.

“It’s fine.”

You don’t look fine. I can help.

He exhales, she can see the breath go out of him.

“You can’t help. No one can. It will get better with time.”

For a moment Amaya sees his mask crack and the trauma that is written on his face. It is deep and raw and it seems like it might consume him. She has seen that look before, on soldiers exposed to the worst atrocities of war, the unremitting horror of something that only they can see, lying buried in their eyes. She knows something of that herself.

What is it? Tell me what’s wrong?

”It was a very great spell, there are… side effects.”

Are you okay?

He coughs and shrugs.

”I’m sure… it will be fine.”

Viren?

He puts his head in his hands. Sits for a long time before he raises his mouth to her.

”There was a cost Amaya, it was something I had to be willing to pay. I was… afraid.” His lips seem to mumble, they are hard to read, his body on the other hand has the loud lines of some sort of horror written upon it.

He looks like a different man and she squeezes his shoulder. Wonders what sort of person he can be that he would do this to himself.

You were willing to die then for Katolis?

She is somewhat surprised.

She doesn’t really know this man at all. There is something dark and depthless in him, something that sets him apart from other people, an unswerving loyalty, an unnatural hunger.