#timeweave

It is solitude that walks with him tonight along the blackened bank of the Chionthar, traveling aimlessly in the Sharran cursed lands that are promised to be his final resting grounds. He has no real destination, just a need to walk, to be in motion, to be…well, he does not wish to be alone, but solitude had pulled the hardest at his thoughts all evening. It had still been his choice to heed its siren’s call.

And, perhaps, that is the issue, why his mind is so disquieted even as he relents to his unyielding desire to be in motion. It is his choice to continue indulging solitude even when it is not necessary. He does not need to be alone—truer still, he probably should not be alone tonight, standing on such a precipice as he is. As they all are. Come morning and they would all be facing Ketheric Thorm in Moonrise Towers. Come morning, and the choice that rests before him finally forces its way into being made.

This is, likely, the last night he will see, and he is walking alone along a Shadow Cursed riverbank, barely able to see past his own hand and bound tightly in his own thoughts.

He has no need to be alone, he could be with her…he should be with her. He needs to be with her—as readily as he needs to draw breath—but still he is here, alone. Still, the allure of solitude had pulled him harder, had called louder to the tangled thoughts of his mind—no, no she still calls louder to the thoughts in his mind, even now, but solitude calls louder to the grief. It sings to the guilt and the regret.

He pauses his walking, a sigh escaping his lips as he turns to look out across the water. On a night like tonight, the stars should be glittering in the calm waters of the river. Perhaps the moon’s ethereal glory should be reflected too, though he would admit that since they had stepped into Shar’s curse, he had lost track of what appearance Selûne should be taking now. Instead, the only hint there even is a river flowing next to him are the ripples reflecting the faint firelight from camp, and the light of his own staff—a gentle reminder from her so as not to lose him entirely to the curse…this curse—illuminating the shallow waters near his feet on the bank.

He stares out into the darkness, far beyond the small spot of light his staff is casting, and wonders if anything or anyone would be able to answer him if he calls out to it. Nothing would, he knows this, but the heaviness of solitude’s presence draping itself over his shoulders makes him consider trying regardless. He has never felt quite so crushed—quite so oppressed under the weight of solitude before now. It is enough to labor his breathing, enough to bring tears to his eyes, enough to feel his heart beginning to crack under the pressure and that is…that is something he has not been allowing himself to consider.

In truth, Gale Dekarios is no stranger to heartbreak, either.

Loathe as he is to admit it, melancholy and despair have been constant companions to him for the past year as well. If he were an honest man, he would allow himself to consider them companions for far longer than that, given how many years he has been holding the sloughed off pieces of his heart in his hands instead of his chest. The pieces are more plentiful now, heavier and larger in his palms.

His heart has been breaking since Elminster had found him and delivered the message from Her. His heart has been breaking since the resident next to it had been demanding tribute at an ever-increasing pace to keep itself satisfied. His heart has been breaking for a year under solitude’s constant, all-consuming presence as he alone had toiled away in his tower to find some peace from his mistake. If he were to allow himself to consider, his heart has been breaking since the night he had been cast from Her side; his heart has been breaking since he had lost the only place he had ever felt like he belonged. His heart has done nothing but break and break and break in its search for belonging and being denied at every attempt.

Another sigh pushes past his lips and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he glances down at his hands, flexing them in the dim light of his staff before they drop back to his side and he resumes his aimless wandering of the riverbank. If he were to allow himself to consider, it has been a year nearly to the day since that night had happened, the timing impeccable and surely no coincidence from Her. And, in truth, it is not the first time he has indulged a night like tonight, driven by solitude and melancholy. The former had not been quite so prevalent that night, and the latter had been all too heavy.

He had had nowhere else to go that night, no chance to walk and appreciate solitude’s heavy companionship. Instead, its presence had lingered at the corners as it had allowed space for other emotions to preside. Melancholy, certainly, but more importantly, desperation. He had paced the floors of his tower that night pained, ravenous, and confused. She had banished him from Her side—punishment for a crime he still did not understand beyond base disobedience he had thought (foolishly, foolishly believed) would be quickly forgiven in the grand scheme of what he had intended to offer.

Such was never the will of a Goddess.

In place of pride from an expected gratitude, desperation had wound its way into his very marrow, and every step he had taken was that of a prowling beast searching for the answer to all of his problems. He had been ready to howl for forgiveness, for relief, for understanding towards what sin he had committed that warranted a punishment such as this. He had been willing to do anything, speak to anyone, scream and beg as needed for Her if that had been what She so desired…but he had been alone. Solitude had remained steady in the corners, just as it did now.

Well, no, not as it did now. He is alone, but that is his choice, and that choice is making itself more and more prevalent now with each step he takes. Each footfall is substantial, weighted with solitude’s choice forcing him to consider that what stands before him now is not nearly as simple as the heartbreak he had felt that night.

The regret is somehow—impossibly—stronger still than it ever was that night. Desperation does not claw at him now so much as somber sobriety stands quietly in its place. And the guilt…the guilt. The guilt in wronging her rings far, far more hallowed than hollowed than it ever did that night when he wronged Her. The only similarity between now and that night is that he is alone, just as he was then and yet not at all as he was then, and he is still just as uncertain what to do with any of the noise screaming in his heart.

He brings a hand up and rubs at his throat, hoping to ease some of the constriction he can feel wrapping around his neck. It does nothing, and he knows this is his choice he must contend with. He has no need to be alone, his breath remains with her, but it is easier to be here by himself. It is easier to contemplate on self-pity and regret and guilt in isolation, where he does not have to weather the condolences of others. It is easier when he does not have to withstand the quiet, consistent, hopeful pleading from her.

It is easier to contemplate on self-pity and guilt in isolation as opposed to facing the one he knows he is committing a most severe crime against. And he can acknowledge that, perhaps, in hiding from her tonight he is only committing a far greater crime against her still.

He should go to her. The thought—the desire—has not left him since he—she caved and they became one. How easily she holds him—all of him, the despair and the guilt and the self-pity—in her hands is the balm to his soul he has been seeking for a year. For well over several years. Yet solitude’s call is stronger still, because it tempers him. Because he should go to her, but he is not so cruel a man.

It is not a question of worth—though that is a question turned over and over and over again in the recesses of his mind—but a matter of her. He will not harm…will not ruin the woman who so delicately balances his heart between her teeth. It is not something she ever asked for. He still had placed it there with all the grace and sorrow of a drowning man. And she still holds it with all the gentleness of a whisper on the warm, summer breeze of the seacoast he still calls home.

Home.

He hesitates, foot coming down softly on the rocky riverbank as discerning eyes stare back out over the water. Is that why solitude had called him here to the riverbank instead of allowing him to seek her arms? In order to create some weak facsimile to the seaside of Waterdeep? To attempt to at least ease some longing in his heart, even if it is not the one he worries over fixing?

He releases another, long breath, the constriction still prominent in his throat. The Chionthar, darkened as it is by an ever-blackened night from these cursed lands, holds nothing compared to the ocean waves of Waterdeep. There is no comfort in it akin to the warm, sandy beaches just outside of his tower, and there has never been any comfort in walking either of them alone. There is no comfort he can claim at all tonight—outside of her—and he accepts that.

Movement pulls his attention away from the water to the underbrush along the riverbank. He stills, watching silently as a few, sickly birds emerge from the leaves and fly off into the blackened skies of these cursed lands they had been calling home. He watches them well after his poor, human eyesight can no longer see them in the darkness, his hand half-raised as if beckoning them to stay. To also accompany him. To allow him to help them, as sickly, as lost, as confused as they are. As he is.

They do not return, and he acknowledges, mournfully, that is their nature. It is a shame. They will carry what these lands did to them for an eternity, and he wishes—he so desperately wishes—they will turn around and allow him to assist, but perhaps that is foolish of him. Perhaps it is selfish to deny them their very nature.

But they will carry it with them for the rest of their lives. And just like that, there is no denying she will carry his heart in her mouth with her far into a future he is not destined to witness. That is who she is. And for that, perhaps, he is a cruel, selfish man. He should not have let her first taste of something as grand as love fall into such ruin.

He should not have left his mark on her, but he had, he had, and he could not undo that sin either. He should not have left his mark on her, but he needs it to mean something. It is a far cry different to his thoughts a year ago, but he needs a reason to be able to do this beyond Her decree, and if it is for her then so be it. He can die for her. He will die for her, not Her. But he is a selfishly cruel man for needing to leave his mark on her in order to have the strength to complete it.

In order to know that something of his will live on, even when he does not. And it will, because she will. Because she will carry it, as is her nature.

Shame washes over him, and he hangs his head. His mouth runs dry at the sight below him, his gaze tracing over the small, broken body of a bird eternally resting at his feet. He can just barely make out that it holds a similar appearance to the ones that had just scattered—the primary differences are its stillness and the hole ripped through its chest by some, shadowy creature it could barely comprehend.

His fingers twitch at his side, an overwhelming urge to call forth the Weave and attempt to heal the poor thing resting on his tongue. It would do no good, he knows this. The bird is long dead, but he is apparently not beyond wishing for miracles. He quashes the thought before allowing it to go further; there is nothing to be done but to mourn.

Defeat worms its way into his gut, and he wonders, briefly, if the flock he had just witnessed flying away had watched their fellow die. If the little bird had left in search for food or had chosen to be the one to protect a nest—some semblance of a home that could be built in these lands—and had died valiantly on such an endeavor.

If the flock had watched him die, he wonders if they will carry that with them for eternity as well. He wonders if they will hate their friend for it. He wonders for the birds, because he knows she will.

Gale sighs, a few tears rolling down his cheeks, and turns around to return to camp. The defeat in his gut coils tightly enough to permeate each breath he takes as he labors back up from the riverbank.

He does not need to be selfish in such a way. He had her now, and she offered—had been offering—another chance. But a night ago, he had held her in his arms. A night ago, he had held repentance in his arms, had tasted salvation on her lips and had discovered paradise over and over again and again as she had come undone for him. As she had unraveled and wrapped herself around him in such a way she had never allowed another to bear witness to, let alone be the cause of. His name had spilled from her lips in such beautiful, agonized bliss as she had shattered around him and had drawn him deeper and deeper into her—her body, her heart, her very soul—until there was nowhere left for either of them to go.

And it was not a prayer, it was not in reverence, but how she had cried his name that night was done with nothing but pure, concentrated love and that…that was far beyond what he had ever imagined asking for. Far beyond what he ever imagined he could ask for. But the sun had risen the following morning, and as he had looked down at her smiling up at him in his arms, he had never been more certain and less certain of what he needed to do.

He had never directly asked Mystra what She would have him do, but She had given Her answer anyways. She wishes for his death.

“What would you have me do?” He did ask her.

“Live.”

Live, live, live, her answer is always that she would have him live.

The love she offered—offers—is a redemption he had barely fathomed a possibility for him, and she offers it without hesitation. The trepidation to accept is all too grand. He wishes to, he would if not for knowing that a year ago he had committed his sin. And while he wants to take the second chance she offers him, it is not hers to offer, but Hers. He did not sin against the goddess resting in his arms a night ago, he had sinned against the Goddess he once held in his arms a year ago. And though he is convinced her love could save every part of him, it is divinity that needs to accept such salvation.

Love bids him to live. Divinity bids him to die. And he is torn in two between them.

His feet carry him back to camp near his tent. The light on his staff dims to nothing as he allows the spell to dissipate, and he stares around the grounds covered in firelight. It is late, most are not awake, but she still is. His eyes land on her sitting outside of her own tent, curled in on herself, quill scrawling along the paper of her journal. He can only begin to imagine what she may be writing or drawing, what new idea she has had or what inspiration has struck her.

It is a scene he can see himself watching fondly for an eternity, a life they could have shared. That only tears his heart further.

Desperation finally floods him, just as it did that night. There is no warning, just as there had been no warning that night, it simply comes with all the strength and force of the rains of a storm. It rips through him as easily as the gales of a hurricane tear through all in their path. It shakes him to his core, just as it had shaken him that night, just as the storm leaves nothing but wreckage and ruin in its wake.

Look up.

He bids her, he begs her, he does not say a word. He does not use the connection between them nor the magic at his disposal, he simply…thinks. He puts the request into the air and holds his breath. He wants her to look up, he needs her to look up as much as he needs to take another breath, but he cannot call to her. He cannot ask—he will not ask. Just the once he wants to know—needs to know if kismet, whatever that may be—the gods, nature, the human condition, her—could ever find it within itself to smile down on him. Just once, just once.

Look up.

Mystra did not turn around for him that night. She had ordered him to his knees and then cast him from Her side. He had begged that night. He had pleaded, cried, attempted to seek answers, attempted to seek forgiveness and repentance. Nothing he had said that night mattered, and when words had finally failed him, when his mouth had run dry and his tongue had finally rested dead in his mouth, he had fallen silent and simply…thought. Prayed. To the back of the very Goddess whose audience he had requested, he had prayed. In Her own domain, he had prayed.

If Mystra would not listen to his words, then the only chance he had left in his grasp was to pray. A prayer for Her to simply turn around. A prayer for Her to witness him. He had still believed himself a pious man, endlessly devoted to Her domain and all She stood for. His heart still beat for no one other than Her, and if he could still pray to Her after this, if She would still hear him and answer, then he still stood a chance—or so he had believed.

She never turned around.

Look up.

It had been a mercy in the end. Though he knows now it was never Her intention to spare him the humiliation of being so undone and witnessed by a God, it was a mercy that She had granted him. He did not need to be seen by Her like that, no matter how desperately he had wished for it.

Before him now, though…

Please. Look up.

Mystra did not need to see him such a state, but her? The woman who soothes his very soul? The one who speaks to him with a resonance he could hardly fathom existed before making her acquaintance? The one who has been fighting for his life with more vigor, with more frigid determination than anyone else has ever granted him in his life—more than even himself? The woman who has already wept for him while he still yet draws breath?

Well…he does not want her to see him like this, so disheveled and uncertain. So readily grappling with the jaws of Death snapping at his ankles. But he needs her to. The desire for attention is not a new wish for him, but in this moment, it enflames him and engulfs him like no other. If there is one thing he knows, it is that he is capable of all of it and more for her. All of it has meaning so long as her eyes are on him, and it strikes him that perception of such a nature is, perhaps, the holiest feeling a mere mortal could ever experience.

It had been a miracle Mystra did not answer his prayer that night. It would be a miracle if she answers his prayer now.

Please. Look up.

Slowly, she moves. The quill in her hand drops to the page with trepidation. As if against her will, as if bid by forces she could not see, her head rises. It is a heavy movement, weighted by the phantoms of her own mind telling her how awful an idea it is, desperately begging her not to look. And he knows it is instinct at feeling someone’s eyes on her, but in the split second before her eyes meet his, he wonders how many glances she had spared towards his tent tonight.

But then her eyes meet his gaze, an immediate, immeasurable sadness permeates her soft eyes, and all the breath disperses from his lungs. The last tethers coiling in his gut undo themselves and fall away, leaving nothing but a rawness to him that even he cannot begin to explain. It is how he is often left feeling under her gaze.

No words pass her lips, though her mouth opens as if to speak. What is there to say? Their thoughts are the same, their minds both keenly aware of the time and all that lies before them come morning light. All of this could soon be over. For her, that means freedom—well-earned, well-deserved freedom to allow her to return to her life. For him…all of this could soon be over. A year of torment could come to a meaningful end, and if one begets the other then…all the better. It is doable.

It is more than doable, it is necessary. For her.

Because, in this moment, she answers his prayer. In this moment, she sees him, and perception of this nature is, undeniably, the holiest feeling a mere mortal could ever experience. The storm quells, though the rain still falls.

It is a salvation he has sought for a year, but it still claws at him. It tears him apart to see the glossy veneer in her eyes. It is devastating to know he is the cause of her devastation. And it is unfair to find Life staring at him now, begging him to reach out a hand, pleading with him to believe he deserves more than what he has been sentenced with. It is unfair, so damnably unfair that Life finds him now while standing on this precipice. He longs to reach back—yearns to grasp her hand and walk towards the future she speaks so certainly of, but he cannot—he cannot—as marred and as claimed by Death as he is.

But if it is for her, then it is for Life. And if it is for Life, then it is enough.

And that is why, as much as he longs to go to her, to kiss her tears away and to shed and mix his own, he does not. He smiles at her—smiles at the very Life she is and all the future they could have if born of different circumstances, if discovered at another time—and turns away. It is for her, it is all for her, but he cannot bear to cause undue pain.

He cannot bear to cling to Life when he knows he is Death’s claim. It is for her. Because of Her. He will not drag her—his heart, his soul, his Life—down with him.

He indulges himself only once—when he reaches the opening of his tent—glancing back at everything he desires and everything he must deny. He shouldn’t have indulged. A few tears reflect in the firelight as they roll down her cheeks, and she is still staring after him. Still, she is looking after him, and she watches, and she watches.

Thank you, for answering a dead man’s prayer.

He recedes into his tent. It is the most merciful thing he can do for her now, prevent her from watching. Prevent her from witnessing what is to come in some attempt to spare what she must carry with her into a future he will not see. But perhaps it is foolish of him to believe he can prevent it.

The area they were in was forested and not particularly cavernous, but her scream echoed around him in beautiful, torturous repetition. It reverberated through him, shook him, stilled him as every last spark of his frustration calmed at her declaration. She stood across from him, her pacing finally stopped by the very same enormity. Her chest heaved, her hands flexed at her sides, and her jaw started clenching and unclenching in a desperate bid to keep her composure the longer they stared at each other.

She did not hold.

Nox crumbled. He watched in excruciatingly slow motion as the dwindling flames of her anger burned out completely only to be replaced with their true kindling—despair. Tears returned to the edges of her pretty violet eyes, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth after it trembled just once. Her gaze dropped from his before she turned away from him completely, submitting to defeat.

“I want you to live, Gale,” she repeated softly.

Of course she did. That was what she had been saying from the start, that she wanted him to live. That he didn’t need to die. That it would be a waste of a brilliant mind and a beautiful soul. And he knew it, something in him had read between the lines of all the words she had spoken and yet he never comprehended how deeply her desire ran. But of course she wanted him to live, of course she did.

His gaze traced over her frame, nearly collapsed in on herself as she released a few, shuddering breaths in an attempt to recollect herself. After a moment, she turned back to face him, and her eyes met his again with a shine of desperate, despondent honesty. With blinding clarity, he realized the answer to their problem was strikingly simple.

“Then ask it of me.”

Her lips parted as if to speak, but all that came out was a small, strangled cry. Nox shook her head quickly—violently—and her arms came up to wrap around herself. “I will not,” she breathed out and shook her head again. “I shouldnot. I-I-I…I cannot,” she choked out as her tears finally spilled over.

He took a step towards her, and then another when she did not shy away from him. He came to a stop in front of her, and though her gaze dropped from his again, he tentatively reached out a hand towards her with the intent to wipe away her tears.

“I…I cannot be expected to breathe life back into a man resigned to his fate.”

Gale faltered. She…was correct. That…was an incredibly unfair expectation.

Nox swallowed and shook her head again before turning up to face him. “I cannot ask a good man to take the selfish route, and I…and I…”

She blew out a long breath. Before he could cup her cheek, she reached out and grabbed both of his hands. She did nothing further, just held his hands in the space between him and her. She took another deep breath and forced herself to meet his stare. “And I cannot ask you to condemn your soul for me.”

The bitter, biting truth was that she could. She could very easily ask that of him, and he would follow her desire in a heartbeat. It was a bitter, biting truth that he realized far too late in their endeavors, but one he found blindingly simple now. Nothing else mattered but her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do in this moment so long as it appeased her and stopped her crying. And if that was what she wanted, he wished that she would ask, but the bitterest truth was that the reason she could ask that of him and he would readily agree was the very same reason she never, ever would.

Gale sighed and detangled one of his hands from hers. Gently, he cupped her cheek finally, swiping his thumb over the small stream of tears running down her face. His eyes searched hers, patiently awaiting her to speak anything else if she needed. When it became apparent she had run out of words, he sighed again.

“It is already yours to do as you please, Nox’ani,” he whispered gently. “You should know that.”

“Gale…” She squeezed her eyes shut, almost pained, and swallowed roughly.

He lightly brushed down her cheek until he moved his hand to tilt up her chin, his thumb lazily tracing over the outline of her mouth. Her lips parted with a shuddering breath, and her glassy eyes cracked open to look at him in question. Gale hoped she understood his intention, given how similar it was to what he had done a few nights ago on the frozen river…moments before the Orb ruined it.

“And if it is not something you desire,” he continued, just as soft, “speak on it now, and we shall lay it to rest permanently.”

Nox didn’t speak. Her gaze flickered from his eyes and down his face to his mouth before snapping back. She bit her lip, indecisive, and he felt the miniscule shake of her head against his hand. “It…it does not feel proper for me to claim…”

“I assure you it is,” he breathed.

“And I do not agree the sacrifice is worth it before we are even certain of what we are dealing with,” she refuted, throwing up a hand in exasperation. “I am not relying on your death to solve all our problems before we are even fully sure of what they are!”

“We have a very simple solution to it before this whole plot grows even more out of hand! One life for the Sword Coast, that hardly seems like a sacrifice.” It wasn’t a sacrifice at all. It was the only thing he was meant to do from the moment the Orb fused into his chest, he had to believe that. He had to. “One life to prevent a future you have already seen and know can come to pass—”

“A future that is one of several possible outcomes!” Nox corrected on a cry. She glared up at him, anger glinting in the few tears pricking her violet eyes. “You might be so cavalier with your life, Gale, but I am not,” she hissed at him. And despite his anger, despite his annoyance—at her, at the situation, at what he was charged to do—his heart stuttered with her admittance. “I don’t want you do die. None of us want you to die.”

“Alright…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a step away from her. He needed a moment to disengage before he said something he didn’t mean—or, perhaps, said something he meant all too much. “Disregarding the several issues that exist with you making that decision for me, and there are several—” He glared at her to get his point across. She narrowed her eyes at him in return. “—Did you not think that I would want to be down there, regardless?”

Nox’s jaw clenched and her nostrils flared with the release of a breath. “And did you not think that the rest of us would take necessary measures to prevent you from killing yours—”

“This isn’t about that!” Gale shouted. It was an outburst of tangled emotions, rage and fear and an overwhelming sadness, but he felt it cooling in the few seconds her shocked expression stared back at him. “Do not cast me from your side, Nox’ani,” he said, the desperation pumping in his heart bleeding into his voice. “I have had more than my fill of that in my life already.”

She stilled in front of him, momentarily stunned at his admittance. He watched her composure fall, the same fear and desperation flowing in his veins mirrored in her eyes. Then it was gone, schooled behind a mask of cold, metallic resolve. She sincerely believed she was doing him a favor. He did not know how else to convey this was anything but.

“This is hardly the same,” Nox bit back, harsh. Her arms crossed over her chest once more.

“Isn’t it?” Gale demanded, mimicking her stance and rocking back on his feet. Was it better to show his anger or his despair? He didn’t know, but he was bordering on both. “Because it certainly feels the same.”

“No! No, it isn’t at all! Don’t you dare compare me to her,” she ground out. “One was over a grandiose mistake you should have known better than to make, and one is over whether or not you deserve the right to live because of that mistake!”

“And that is ultimately my decision to make in the end,” he pointed out, voice rough from holding back tears.

“It is,” she agreed dangerously low. Her hand clutched at her staff, still stuck in the ground. “But I find it difficult to believe you are acting of your own accord.”

Gale swallowed, struck nervous by the puzzle in her words. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you truly want to die?” Nox asked quietly. “Do you truly want to sacrifice your life to save the world? Do you truly believe this is the only way? Or is it your own gods’ damned ego being stroked by a Goddess to court her own means in the end?”

He momentarily forgot how to breathe, indignation flaring in his veins to temporarily burn away everything else. “You…you think it is pride that is driving me to blow myself up to the Heavens?!” he asked, incredulous. “You believe my ego is so easily inflated I would consider killing myself over some pretty words and half-baked promises? This is Mystra! This is eternal salvation!”

“I don’t know what else it could be!” she shot back. Nox growled out a string of curses in Elvish under her breath and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Of course you are the only one who could solve this problem, right?” she demanded, glare snapping up to meet his eyes. “Only you can fix it and bring an end to the Absolute? Only you have the capabilities, never mind everyone else and what we can do. Never mind none of us want to watch you die for a threat we could handle!”

“Nox…”

Some of his anger chilled the longer she shouted at him, ironically enough. He could practically see the desperation rising in her throat, her arms flailing like a signal for him to understand what she was saying. For him to understand what she was truly saying beneath the surface. And he wanted to—he so dearly desired to—but it still didn’t change the truth sitting before them. “My Goddess asked this of me—”

“Your Goddess forsook you!” Nox reminded him with an exasperated shout. “And now she demands penance in the form of your life for a mistake she refused—still refuses—to explain! How is that right? How is that demand worthy of consideration?!”

Gale remained silent, taking a moment to truly examine her. Heavy bags rested under tired, pleading eyes while she panted with exertion and frantic appeal for him to see her version of sense. For all he probably should have, he couldn’t prevent the fondness welling in his heart at watching her argue with him for his life. It was charming, heartwarming…and very reminiscent of a life he once knew. The words were out of his mouth before he consciously thought on them, “…for someone who so often speaks of hubris, you have little self-reflection.”

She recoiled like she had been zapped. “And what, exactly, do you mean by that?”

He shouldn’t have spoken a word. “This is Mystra,” he answered softly, honestly. That was all he could do. “You are asking me to consider you and your words above the command of the Goddess of Magic.”

He intended it as a compliment. It was a compliment, in his eyes. It took some gall—it took some care and some heart for someone to demand something of that nature. It was still the wrong thing to say. Gale watched the deep wound cleave through her eyes, her jaw falling open in shock and unfettered pain. Just as quickly, she snapped her mouth shut and turned away from him. He still noticed how she tugged at the collar of her robe and how her hand remained, clenching the fabric and trembling slightly.

A grave error, indeed. “…Nox—”

“You’re right,” she said, voice chillingly quiet, “I do speak on hubris often. But do not misconstrue what I am asking here. I am no better than Mystra. I am far, far below the Goddess…on all counts, I see now, but I am still asking you to consider what I am saying. As a friend and…as one who knows hubris.”

Nox breathed deep and the mask slipped over her with her exhale, a glossy veneer as cool as the ice she wielded. Elegant, beautiful, fragile. “I speak on pride because I know what it is, Gale. I speak not on mine because I have already had it trampled.” Her hand slipped from her staff, defeated, and she rocked between her heels and the balls of her feet. “My pride was believing I could ever step into my mother’s shoes and fulfill her role after we lost her. Elturians did not believe me. My own sister did not believe me and Elturel fell. Again.”

She turned away from him, her feet dragging her into a slow, circular pace around her staff as she contemplated it. Gale wanted her to stop then. He knew where this was going, she had already recounted her history to him. She hadn’t said it, but he knew there was a lot to regret in it.

“My pride was believing I would ever be able to recreate the lost art of chronomancy where my mother failed. Now I am chained to a past I cannot escape and haunted by a future I do not know how to prevent,” Nox continued, words rising in volume and speed. “My pride was believing I could ever act like my sister and step into a leadership role with respect. It is something I have here only because of her, I know this—”

That was blatantly untrue.

“And my pride was in hoping I could still use that regardless. My pride was in hoping I could talk to a talented, stubborn, good wizard as a peer and a friend and have him consider my words!” she said, motioning towards him in exasperation. Or as an example. A few tears started spilling from her eyes. “And my hubris was falling for that stubborn man—who tasted power and divinity beyond what I could ever comprehend or compare to—and believing I ever stood a chance!”

They both froze. Gale stared at her, Nox stared back, eyes wide enough that she appeared as though she were just caught in the midst of a crime. It was the appearance of someone who instantly regretted saying way too much in a fit of madness. Her tears fell faster, slipping from glittering eyes that she squeezed shut before violently turning on her heel from him.

His mind screamed at him to step forward. To respond. To pull her back before she inevitably left. He didn’t—couldn’t—move.

In one of the back corners of the Last Light Inn, a glass of wine three-quarters gone at her side, Nox sat alone with her nose buried in the first book she picked up off of the old bookshelf behind her. Though, she could hardly claim that she was actually reading the thing. She hadn’t turned more than a singular page in the past hour, the words in front of her hardly registering in her mind even as her eyes aimlessly scanned over them repeatedly. Instead, her thoughts were millions of miles away, stuck in an endless loop of an event that happened hours ago only a couple hundred paces from where she now sat.

This…this wasn’t how she intended on ending the night. Admittedly, she had no idea how she had intended to end the night, but she knew it wasn’t like this: alone and near despondent. She presumed she would have at least been in better company, if not in better spirits. Her plans for the evening were supposed to be about simple fun, after all, and not…well, not what they became.

You’re in love with him.

The thought echoed ceaselessly in the caverns of her mind, as it had been since her feet landed back on the snowy bank of the Chionthar. It had only grown louder with time, transitioning from the dull whispers that had lurked in the back of her mind for far longer than she cared to admit to into a near symphony that now resounded in her skull.

It should have been beautiful. It should have been a wonderful, brilliant melody playing with ease in her mind, but as the words sang louder and louder in her head, it was anything but. The lyrical declaration grew into such a frenzy that the words pressed against her eyes and slowly blotted out the written letters on the pages in front of her, only to rewrite themselves over and over and over again. It should have been beautiful, but it was far more akin to a Hell she had yet been granted the pleasure of experiencing.

With a resigned sigh, Nox exchanged the book in her hands for the glass on the table and downed the last of the wine she had. With that out of the way, she let out a pitiful groan and buried her head in her hands, finally relenting when even the quick, warm hum of the wine sliding down her throat didn’t stop her repetitive, treacherous thoughts. Slowly, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, hoping that with enough applied pressure she could push the thoughts back far enough to banish them and return them to lurking in the recesses of her mind. It only resulted in stars exploding on the backs of her eyelids.

Nox loved him. She was in love with someone for the first time and that should have been wonderful but it was with Gale, so it was…complicated. Messy. But she was in love with Gale. It was a fact she hadn’t acknowledged, but one that had been true for quite some time. It was a truth she never planned on acknowledging and was instead allowing to play out however it pleased. There were several options, numerous ways for the cards to finally lay, and she still, somehow, hadn’t been prepared for this.

Even still, to be in love…it should have been wonderful and why wasn’t it wonderful?

Nox bit back a groan and relieved the pressure on her eyes. It was because they were dying. It wasn’t wonderful because he was ordered to die and she didn’t know what to do…though even that felt like a weak excuse. She wouldn’t know what to do even without all of the extra complications. She didn’t know the song that played in her own head. She didn’t know the rhythm, nor the melody, and though the words were on a torturous cycle in her mind, her heart wasn’t sure of the lyrics despite it.

What was she supposed to do with this?

It was the same question she kept coming back to, and despite ruminating for hours, she still didn’t have a satisfactory answer. Before she could spiral further on it though, the sound of footsteps briefly cut through the rest of the noise in her mind. Nox stilled, recognizing the heavy, lilted gait and instantly recognized they were making a beeline towards her. Intertwined senses of both dread and relief washed over her simultaneously, but she couldn’t find it in herself to raise her head from her hands and greet her new visitor.

Nox should have expected this, though. It was only natural her sister would seek her out after the rest of the night’s events drew to a close. Lux would want to know what happened, even if she wanted to talk about anything else, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. As much as she dreaded it, Nox also acknowledged talking it out was potentially what she needed.

That aside, when it came to Lux, it wasn’t as though she had much of a choice.

“So…?”

An excited, sing-song voice asked beside her. Nox’s head finally rose, and she watched as Lux walked around the side of her chair, nudging her shoulder lightly in the process and grinning like a fool. “How’d it go?”

She flinched, the words containing far more force than her sister intended, and glanced away, though not before noticing Lux’s smile fall. How did it go? It went great…it was absolutely perfect and accomplished everything she had hoped when she first had the glimmer of the idea. How he smiled at the snow—at her—the way he trusted her and allowed himself to finally take a break and have fun, the way he held onto her hand and was reluctant to let go…all of it had left her as elated and as warm as the wine in her belly. It was everything she could have wanted and, somehow, more still.

Until it wasn’t.

“It went fine,” Nox answered, tone as non-committal as the weak shrug she gave. She didn’t want to rave about an evening that would have—should have—been one of her fondest memories of the blossoming romance between her and the man she loved—her first love—when it ended as it did. The larger shadow looming over them had marred everything in the end, she was a fool to ever even hope for anything more.

Lux let out a heavy sigh and fell into the chair across from her. Nox could feel her steady gaze slowly traveling over her, and though she hardly wanted her sister’s thorough examination and inevitable prying, she couldn’t bring herself to change anything about her countenance to dissuade or fool Lux from asking.

“That’s hardly the face of someone who is ‘fine,’” Lux pointed out with another sigh, “It’s also not the barely contained excitement and glee you had a few hours ago.” She gave a small, sympathetic smile when Nox finally forced herself to meet her eye. “What happened?”

What happened? She was in love. For the first time. She was in love with someone and it should have been wonderful…it was wonderful. She couldn’t deny how badly her heart wanted to soar at the mere memory of him beside her, awkwardly brushing hands and exchanging nervous smiles. Yet, as readily as it made her heart want to start racing through the sky, it instead smashed into the ground.

She was in love for the first time, and she didn’t know what to do with it at all.

Nox was half-tempted to stick to her silence and partial answers. As much as Lux would try to coax anything out of her, Nox knew she could remain stubbornly opposed. Lux would take the hint eventually, and while she would not be pleased with it, she would let the topic drop. It was just a matter of how much Nox wanted to endure before finally being allowed to return to her brooding.

Instead, Nox’s gaze flickered around the near empty inn, cataloguing who else was around. A few Harpers milled about, but that was the extent of it. The rest of their group were settled in for the night, either outside in the small camp they pitched in the back or strewn about the rooms of the inn.

“I’m in love with him, Lux.”

The Elvish words fell softly from her mouth, as gentle an admission as one would expect regarding such a thing, but the remnants felt thick on her tongue. The Elvish itself wasn’t necessary, anyone she would have worried about overhearing this conversation was well out of earshot and likely wouldn’t be looking for either of them for hours still to come. But it felt easier than giving them life in Common…than admitting them in a tongue that everyone around them knew and understood.

Silence settled over them for a few moments as her sister soaked in the weight of her words. It stretched for what felt like ages, but Nox knew was only seconds, before it was broken by Lux’s quiet chuckle. Nox glanced up from her hands in surprise only to be met with a larger, sympathetic smile.

“Well, I’m glad that head of yours finally caught up with your heart,” Lux answered, taking the hint and switching to Elvish as well. “We’ve all been waiting for that to happen. But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“No.” Something tore in her chest with how quickly, how emphatically the answer escaped her. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Nox sighed and looked back down, watching her hands as they came up to fidget with the pocket watch hanging around her neck. “….yes?” she asked after a moment.

Another beat, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Her hands returned to her side, the pocket watch falling back to rest against her chest. "I...I don’t know,” Nox admitted. She wrung her hands in her lap as she glanced around the inn again, this time taken with the shadows cast by the torches still burning inside.

It should have been simple. Not that she had any misconceptions that romantic entanglements were ever easy, but between the tadpoles and Gale being…well, Gale…she never could have prepared for this level of complexity. Yet, even with the complexity, even with the rational and logical screaming at her to walk away from what was in front of her, even with the knowledge any pursuit of it would likely end in tragedy, she still couldn’t deny the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Every time she thought about what almost transpired on the river and just how desperately she wished it happened, it felt as though she could barely contain them from rising up her throat and escaping.

It made her nauseous.

Slowly, her eyes traveled back to Lux, who was watching her quietly and with far more patience than she probably deserved. Contemplation churned in her blue eyes as she waited, and that was enough to compel Nox to at least try and explain where her thoughts were. Lux always listened, after all.

“If the circumstances were different, it would be easy. I wouldn’t hesitate on an answer…quite frankly, if the circumstances weren’t what they are, I’d be with him right now instead of down here…like this,” she muttered, motioning to herself and the glass of wine at her side. “I’d rather be with him right now. I’d rather be discussing new theory with him or swapping stories with each other or exploring another tome together…”

Or continuing where they left off at the river. Or exploring each other. Or whispering all the things she wished she had the courage to say to him, all the things to convince him he was worth far more than he believed. To convince him dying wasn’t his only solution. Or, or, or…

“But…” Nox sighed, and her eyes turned blankly towards the wall. “The circumstances are what they are, and I don’t…” She swallowed roughly and shook her head, forcing away a few tears before they had the opportunity to fully form. “I do not believe some fates are meant to be changed.”

Absently, her hand reached up and fiddled with the chain around her neck again. It was a bitter recognition. The potential for time itself rested firmly against her chest, and still all she could do with it was stand idly by as it slipped evermore through her fingers. It wasn’t fair.

“Nox…” Lux’s voice pulled her from her lament, and she returned her attention to her sister’s comforting, worried gaze. Understanding lurked in her blue eyes as well, the picture likely becoming clearer in her mind. “What happened tonight?”

“Nothing…or…everything?” Nox hesitated, frowning. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Perhaps it would be best to just explain the events first, instead of trying to unravel what happened at the river. “I was honest about my initial intentions, you know. I only wanted him to have fun tonight. And I was correct about my suspicions: he hasn’t simply had fun in a long while. So, that’s what we did…that’s what I endeavored to keep it to, at least,” she said.

Lux clicked her tongue. “It obviously didn’t stay only to that.”

Nox sighed and shook her head. No, it certainly hadn’t. “We talked about a lot. It was light at first, he teased me for even trying to get him onto the ice. It was easy and it was fun. But then we kept talking, and it…devolved. Or maybe…evolved?” she shrugged one shoulder. “Really, I kept talking, and maybe that’s the problem…but I really, really wanted to impart on him what it meant to me. Why I was doing it. So…I told him about my version of the night we shared the Weave together…and that led to speaking about Elturel. I told him a little about Kal, a little about Mom…”

She hesitated, glancing at Lux and swallowing the reemerging recognition that it led to her voicing thoughts to Gale that she had never said aloud to anyone, even her own twin. Things she couldn’t—wouldn’t in her right mind tell Lux, but that came so easily when talking to him. He made everything about herself and what she’d endured feel so…simple wasn’t the word. Necessary, perhaps. Bearable.

“And he…he listened,” Nox continued, clearing her throat. “But suddenly it wasn’t just about what the snow meant to me or why I was doing it. It was about what he meant to me and why I was doing it for him. And he still assuaged all of those fears with the ease of muttering a cantrip. He…”

Nox looked away again, suddenly warm and her heart beating a touch faster. If asked, she’d claim it was facilitated by the wine, but she knew the memories of this night were going to have a hold on her for a long while. “He called me Archmage,” she admitted quietly. “He called me the promise of a better tomorrow. We almost kissed…”

“Oh!” Not quite a gasp, not quite a laugh, the noise that Lux emitted was downright giddy, and Nox barely contained a grimace. She wished she could feel the same. “That sounds like it is straight out of a dream!” Lux grinned.

She responded with a weak smile. It was, it truly was. “And…then the Orb flared,” Nox said softly, deflating. “One of my magic lights got a little too close and…that was it. Reality came crashing back down around us.”

“Oh…” Lux muttered, slumping back in her seat. “That sounds…very much less so. I’m sorry…”

Nox shook her head, as much a signal that she didn’t want sympathy as it was to buy a moment to get her emotions back under control. “It was my own fault in the end.” Literally and figuratively. “But it was already too late. How was I supposed to realize anything else? Anything less? After that…there was only one conclusion I could draw, and it’s not like I can just forget I realized it.”

She drew in a large breath and held it for a moment before releasing it, preparing herself to say what she realized but couldn’t voice on the Chionthar. “I’m in love with him,” Nox repeated and released a humorless laugh. “I’m in love with a dead man.”

“Noxy…” Lux took a large breath of her own before leaning forward and reaching out, grabbing her fidgeting hands. When Nox conceded and looked back at her, she found a subdued warmth she always expected to find in Lux, and a surprising amount of understanding. A near staggering amount of empathy…and seeing that caused Nox’s heart to only sink further into her stomach.

Right. Right.

“Nothing is ever set in stone,” Lux said gently. She tilted her head slightly and a small, sad smirk graced her lips. “And given the look you’re giving me right now, you realize that’s what you have been reminding me of quite often, lately.”

“Lux, I…” Nox cut herself off before she said something she didn’t mean. At the same time, there was no gentle way of putting the situation they both found themselves in. “I know I have, but…as you’ve probably surmised, I’ve been about as successful with him as you have been with her.” She gave another, withering sigh before adding, “It feels like a losing battle.”

“Maybe it is,” Lux agreed and squeezed her hands, urging her attention back. “But it’s a battle I’m still fighting. It’s a battle you encouraged me to keep fighting, and one you shouldn’t give up quite so easily yourself.”

Nox recoiled, staggered. With the way her chest suddenly ached, it would have been kinder if Lux had punched her. “I am not giving up on him!” she ground out. Gods, was that how she came across? No, no she would never…she could never…

Lux sat back and lifted her hands in appeasement. Nox stilled and forced out a breath to calm herself before those thoughts spiraled further—before the hurt at the mere suggestion she was surrendering consumed her. It clearly wasn’t what Lux meant.

It also wasn’t as far from the mark as she would have liked. “I’m not giving up on him,” Nox repeated, calmer. But if she wasn’t giving up on him, then what was she doing? Why did she feel so helpless? “But…there is a difference between giving up and acknowledging that in the end, it isn’t my choice to make.”

She sighed and rubbed her hands, uncertainty coiling in her gut as she picked at the thread of the thought. She wasn’t giving up on him—she wasn’t—but…she had to acknowledge all possible outcomes. She had to acknowledge that all of her efforts, no matter what she did, might not work in the end.

“I can say my piece—and I have,” Nox muttered, “I can repeat my beliefs until his ears fall off. I can ask him not to—Hells, I can plead with him not to do it…but none of that changes the fact that I cannot make this decision for him.”

It was the uncertainty of it all that left her stomach churning. It was the uncertainty and her inability to solidify anything that was slowly ripping her heart to shreds. Nox stared down at her hands, watching as they wrung and twisted around each other in her lap. “I…I cannot ask him to forgo the repentance and salvation he has been seeking,” she admitted finally. “I cannot ask him to eschew the chance to end his suffering—a pain he’s endured for a year—even if I believe the cost is too high. Even if I believe it’s unfair…and it is. It is so, so gods damned unfair…”

Nox growled out her frustration and clamped her hands down into her lap. She shook her head again, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Even if I believe it unfair to him…it’s not as if I don’t understand the appeal,” she said softly, gaze stealing away to the far wall at her side. “I cannot determine what it is worth to him. I cannot make that decision for him, and I will not ask it of him. It’s far too selfish to even consider…”

Silence fell over them once again, interrupted only by a floorboard occasionally creaking under the footsteps of the Harpers on duty. That Lux didn’t have an immediate answer to her wasn’t a surprise, these were thoughts Nox hadn’t entertained at all before tonight, but she was uncertain of what to make of the prolonged quiet. Lux wasn’t one to mince or chew on her words for long, especially not with her. The silent consideration either meant that she had finally stumped her sister, or that she was right.

Nox didn’t have the heart to look up and try to determine which it was.

“Nox?” Lux finally broke the silence. The unmistakable sound of leather squeaking under someone’s weight indicated she was shifting in her seat. “May I ask you something?”

She continued staring at the wall. “Sure?”

“Do you consider me selfish for doing exactly that?” she asked.

“What?” Nox’s head whipped towards her, shock momentarily forcing her out of her distraught stupor. It wasn’t the question she was expecting to be asked, but…perhaps she should have known. It took her a moment to process the words, but seeing Lux’s wry expression, she understood the point.

“No. No, of course not,” she answered quickly, and then frowned, “But you and Karlach are…different. Karlach would ultimately be dying at the hands of the Archdevil who took her—even if indirectly. She deserves better, she can have better with you. She deserves to spite everyone who did this to her and live.”

Her attention returned to the floor and she chewed on her lip, considering. “And it’s not as if I believe Gale doesn’t deserve the same…but what better does he have to Mystra’s offer? What would he possibly lose out on here that could compare to eternal paradise and returning to the Goddess of Magic’s favor?”

Nox felt Lux’s gaze on her intensify but didn’t dare look up. She already knew what her sister’s answer would be. She already knew it was wrong.

“You?” Lux offered softly.

Nox only scoffed in response.

“I’m serious, Nox,” Lux pressed, earnest. “After everything we’ve learned about him—and I’m sure you know more still—do you honestly believe that his situation and his past with Mystra is any less complex than Karlach with Zariel?”

Her head stayed down, eyes staring at nothing on the floor below her feet. No, in a lot of ways, it wasn’t. In a lot of ways, perhaps it was more similar than either one of them realized. And after hearing about all Mystra had done to him and what she now demanded of him, it certainly wasn’t the fate she wished for him. But…she still understood the appeal—the promise of redemption and return that he had been seeking for over a year. A final way to pay penance for a guilty heart that weighed far heavier on him than it should. A way to put an end to it all and still remain a hero.

She didn’t agree with it, but she understood it. And she knew that not everyone had the same views on the gods as she did, Gale included. Compared to the measly price he would pay to have such a boon, she knew she couldn’t put that on him. She knew she couldn’t ask for that…not when the return was so small in comparison. She felt too much for him to deny him that.

…It just didn’t make any sense, though. Was she feeling the very same kind of love Lux spoke of so often? Was this the same kind of love that drove her sister to fight for everything? Because all it was doing was making Nox wilt, and she hated it. She hated feeling small, she hated feeling helpless, and she hated that she couldn’t simply state the most obvious and logical choice because something she barely comprehended prevented her from doing so.

Then again, it was highly probable the love was not the issue. She looked back up at Lux with a wry smile and said, “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not you.”

“Well, no. That’s true,” Lux agreed. “I’m me, and you are you. And thank the gods for that,” she added with a small smile, missing the point.

“No, no I mean…” Nox sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “I just…I don’t understand how you can do it,” she said. “I want to. I so desperately want to…but I just can’t understand it.”

Lux frowned, brows knitting with confusion. “Understand how I do what, exactly?”

“How you love her like you do,” Nox whispered. She held Lux’s gaze for a moment before swallowing roughly, looking away with something akin to shame. “Karlach’s life is no more assured than Gale’s is but that hardly seems to concern you. You love her unabashedly. You hope for her. You have plans for a future you know is less than likely to happen, and I just don’t understand how.”

Lux drew in a long breath and held it for several moments. “Well…” she finally said on the exhale. “I learned the hard way that there is never enough time granted to you in these matters,” she answered honestly. Nox grimaced, fearing that answer. “So, I decided there was no reason to waste what little time I did have with doubts.”

A lack of time. It was always about a lack of time…

“That makes some sense,” Nox sighed, a hand moving to rub at her forehead, creased and cramping as it was with doubts and worries. “And for what it’s worth, I…I didn’t mean for that to come across badly, I apologize if it did,” she added and stole a glance at her sister. “What you and Karlach have is something amazing. It’s been nothing short of wonderful watching you light up again around her, I hope you know that.”

“Not that I need your blessing, but I’m glad you approve,” Lux chuckled, her expression morphing into something much smoother…much fonder. “Karlach is pretty spectacular. Her kindness knows no bounds. Her zest for life, her attitude towards everything…gods, she could be so bitter—it’s more than deserved at this point—but she’s not, you know?”

Nox smiled and gave a short nod, ignoring the pang resounding in her chest. She understood that sentiment all too well.

“And she’s rekindled a lot of feelings I hadn’t…” Lux sighed, “…Well, ones that I hadn’t necessarily lost or forgotten, but ones that I had to put aside after…everything.”

Her smile slipped and Nox immediately reached out to grab her hand, giving a reassuring squeeze to her fingers. “Asta would be happy for you,” she said softly, “I don’t doubt that.”

Lux met her gaze and nodded. “I don’t either. Karlach is everything Asta hoped for me to have after her time had come and gone,” she agreed, “And she came at a time when I needed her most.”

Nox nodded again in agreement, though she could feel uncertainty squirming in her gut. She didn’t want to repeat the question that started this bit of conversation—she didn’t want to take this happiness from her sister, but she wanted to know the answer. She desperately needed to know how Lux was dealing with it, to determine if that was something she could handle for herself as well.

“And it doesn’t bother you?” she asked in a strained half-whisper. When her sister just tilted her head in question, she sighed and clarified, “That it could all come to an end far too soon? Again?”

It was Lux’s turn to sigh, her shoulders heaving and slumping with her breath as her gaze dropped to their hands. “It’ll hurt if it comes to pass, I know that,” she answered after some silent deliberation. Her blue eyes pulled back up to Nox’s as she continued, “But as I said, I learned there’s no reason to waste what little time we have with worries and doubts. Whatever will come to pass will happen regardless. I want to enjoy the present and what time I do have, no matter how meager.”

Nox held her gaze, searching for any hint of doubt or something more lurking in the corners of her mind. Not that she expected to find any, and true, she did not. Lux sincerely meant it. “The enjoyment…the love you have for another, and that they have for you, it’s worth it to you in the end,” she muttered.

Lux nodded. “It is. Entirely.”

It made sense, to some degree. Love was a powerful, driving force if she were to believe what she’d read and seen of it in others. It was a powerful force in her own experience now. And yet she still doubted, because she knew the pain of loss was equally as powerful.

“I guess I…” Nox sighed, picking at the words. “I guess I don’t really know if I agree with that,” she admitted, “Though, I don’t really have the means to understand…”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Lux cut her off. Nox blinked up at her, and she chuckled softly. “Tell me, do you regret not kissing him on the river tonight?”

“I…” Nox hesitated, biting her lip. There was no sense in even attempting to deny it. “…I do. I very much so do.”

“And do you think that regret will lessen when he is gone?” Lux pressed.

Nox grimaced, the point well taken as it stabbed at her heart. “No. I know it won’t,” she agreed, resignation coloring her voice. “But…will that pain hurt more than having kissed him—knowing what it’s like, and then missing it for a lifetime?”

“I…don’t rightly know,” Lux admitted haltingly and shrugged. “I decided I never wanted to find out though, so I took what matters I could into my own hands.”

That also tracked. Lux had always been headstrong and sure of her decisions. When she committed, she committed for life. Of course she loved just the same no matter the outcome. She didn’t need to think about the outcome, or any other number of variables, when she already knew that was what she wanted and when she already knew that whatever came, she would be strong enough to weather it.

…Nox had never been that person. She had always been the one to account for every variable she could, probably a side effect of the wizardly upbringing.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that.”

But at the end of the day, that was really the heart of the problem. It was her own uncertainty, her own indecision and cowardice that was holding her back. “I…I don’t think I can gamble with something so unassured, even when I’m fairly certain it would be worth it,” Nox admitted quietly.

Her sister snorted, the noise shocking her from her continuing the thought. “Nox, you’re a wizard,” Lux pointed out, “You do that all the time.”

In a way, that was true, yet it was hardly applicable here. The consequences of a failed experiment or the machinations of a spell not working were nowhere close to being the same as the consequences of this. She would know, she’d suffered the consequences of failed spells and experiments hundreds of times over and never once did she feel as much trepidation towards repeating them as she did now.

Besides, her penchant for ignoring consequences was not necessarily one of her finer qualities, she knew that.

“And look at how many times it’s burned me in the end,” Nox reminded, rolling her eyes and tapping at the pocket watch. “Besides, and perhaps it’s unfair of me to say to you—” It was unfair. Lux had suffered just as much as she had, if not more. But she wasn’t Lux, she didn’t have the emotional fortitude her sister had. “—But I don’t know how many more heartbreaks I can withstand.”

Lux let out a mirthless chuckle. “I don’t think either one of us has a choice in that matter,” she responded with a sad, knowing smile. "Longevity will do that. That’s the Elvish curse, especially for us moon elves.”

Nox heaved a sigh and looked away to hide her frown. That…was also an inescapable truth she hadn’t considered. Lux had—of course she had—but Nox had only considered it in the vaguer sense. How many times had their parents prepared them for losing friends? How many generations of families had they already watched come and go? How many more times would they witness it and experience it in the five-hundred years they had left?

Perhaps…perhaps it wasn’t worth it, in the end. But even entertaining that notion made her heart lurch and then start the whole consideration over again. It was a vicious cycle, trying to determine if the positives or negatives outweighed each other, and one she knew—even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it—would never end.

She just had to make a decision.

“I can see those gears turning,” Lux said after some time. “You know, at the end of the day, this is a decision you and only you can make for yourself, right?”

Leave it to Lux to already know where her thoughts were stuck. “I…know,” Nox agreed reluctantly. It was her decision, and it was not one she wanted to make out of cowardice, despite it currently holding her heart hostage. She hated it…loathed it, but did not know how to free herself from it.

“And there’s nothing I—or anyone else—can say or do to sway you one way or another,” Lux added and smirked, “I know you well enough to know that.”

Nox rolled her eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile graced her lips despite herself. “Your opinion does matter to me,” she corrected gently. “I wouldn’t seek you out if it didn’t.”

“As I recall it, I sought you out tonight,” Lux pointed out.

Her faint smile turned wry as she answered, “My brooding time wasn’t completed yet. I would’ve found you eventually.”

“Naturally,” Lux snorted. After a moment, she sighed and gave Nox a once over. “Should I let you return to brooding? Or do you still need to talk more of your thoughts out?”

Nox paused, chewing on her bottom lip as she considered. It was a rather obvious answer though, Lux had already said it herself. There was nothing anyone else could say or do to sway her answer, she just had to actually arrive at a decision. What point was there in wasting more of her sister’s time?

“Brooding, I suppose,” she answered. “There’s…there’s a lot to untangle up here,” Nox said and tapped at her forehead, “But I do thank you for your assistance.”

“What else am I for?” Lux asked with a smile.

Another beat passed, and then her sister stood from her chair, giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go. Nox watched her sister’s feet as she left, making it all the way to the threshold of the room before Lux paused and turned around. “Nox?”

“Hm?” she asked, glancing up to meet Lux’s gaze.

“I know I said there’s nothing I can say or do to sway your opinion, but for what it’s worth, I think you should take the chance,” Lux said. “I see how you light up around him too. I get what you mean now, seeing how wonderful it is to watch your sister fall in love.”

Nox gave a tight smile, at a loss for how to possibly respond to that, and nodded. Lux returned the smile before turning back around and heading off to wherever it was that she was going.

Nox watched after her for a while, long after Lux disappeared from sight around one of the corners of the inn. It wasn’t until the distinct sound of Lux’s footsteps could no longer be heard that Nox finally heaved a sigh. Her mind was still spinning, and she glanced at the empty glass on the table next to her, debating for a moment before deciding against getting another glass. It wouldn’t help, even if drowning out the endless thoughts was a tempting choice.

Instead, she dug her elbows into her knees and buried her head in her hands. “I think you should take the chance.”

If she were being honest with herself, that’s what she wanted, truly. More than anything else, Nox wanted to take the chance. She wanted to stop wasting time, she wanted to be reckless in some other area of her life aside from her research pursuits, she wanted to seize the opportunity before her with both hands and never let go. Gods, she wanted so desperately to be in love.

But…Nox had never been that person. She had never been a risk taker in that regard, and she was hardly someone to go against what the odds and the variables were telling her. She wanted to throw caution to the wind, but she couldn’t escape all of the warning signs telling her not to, and maybe…

Her breath stuttered at the intensity of his brown gaze, and she was certain he felt her heart skip several beats under the breadth of his palm. No jokes, no minimization, no trying to ease what happened, he wanted to sit with it and let it rest heavy between them when all she wanted to do was forget and move on. Gale was right though, a part of her knew that. They both needed to acknowledge it, though the longer the silence stretched on, the heavier it hung around them. And the heavier the weight became, the tighter her throat constricted and the hotter her eyes burned.

“Am I…am I truly?” Nox forced out, blinking the tears back.

“Oh, my love,” Gale sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

She was still hyper-aware of every movement he made. His hand slid the rest of the way down her sternum and then around to her back, the tips of his fingers leaving hot trails in their wake and the side of his pinky lightly grazing her breast. His palm flattened across her spine, fingers splayed against her upper back before he pressed her close to him. Their bodies flush against each other, he tilted his head to capture her mouth with his own. The kiss was soft and slow but purposeful, and he delicately took her top lip between his for a moment, before moving to her bottom lip with a light graze of his teeth, and then finally covering them both with his own. His tongue slid out languidly and outlined over the curves of her lips, as much an act of idle worship as it was a request.

She parted readily for him, moaning against him as his tongue slipped over hers and started exploring her mouth. She steadied herself for a moment, both hands splayed over his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers through his hair. Without thought, one leg rose and wrapped around his hip, yanking him even closer. He responded favorably, moaning into her mouth and wrapping his arms under her to hoist her up against him. She sighed, utterly content as she wrapped her legs around his waist and sunk further into his embrace.

Any other night, and Nox knew she would have been begging him to slip inside her and exhibit how he’d drive them both to new heights of physical pleasure. After their success, it was the celebration that should have been happening tonight. Instead, the closeness that they shared—bodies pressed against one another as tightly as possible, heavy breaths mingling as they kissed each other senseless, hands caressing over hair and skin and scars—finally broke the dam, and the first few tears started spilling over from the corners of her eyes.

She needed this, the closeness. She needed to be wrapped in his arms, just as much as she needed him to be wrapped up in hers. She needed the proof they were both still alive.

Despite everything, they were still alive.

It was overwhelming, and when it became too much bursting in her chest, she pulled away. Despite being rosy and kiss-swollen, her bottom lip still trembled, and she bit down hard in an attempt to keep herself contained. Her vision grew cloudier with tears though, and her heart beat erratically in her chest, overcome with a sense of joy and a sense of grief. A sense of relief that they were both still standing here. Anger that they were both still standing here. And love.

Overwhelming, all-encompassing love. A love she almost sacrificed everything for.

Gale opened his eyes, his heated brown gaze falling intently down on her. He softened immediately upon seeing her tears though, and he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, arm braced against her back while he pressed her head back against his.

“Gods above…you are everything to me, Nox’ani,” he breathed out. “And I believed I lost everything once; I survived it, though only just barely and with the help of my dearest friend. But losing you?” He gave a rough swallow and shook his head lightly against hers. “I would not survive losing you.”

“I’m sorry,” Nox croaked, choking on her tears and left near breathless at the sentiment he was speaking. “I didn’t mean…I…I didn’t want…”

She swallowed hard, trying to clear her throat enough to speak. Instead, she swallowed her voice altogether as what little words she had left her. With speaking no longer an option, one hand untangled itself from his hair and trailed down his chest, traveling to settle over his heart. She applied a little more pressure and felt his heart beating just as erratically under her palm as her own did under his.

“I promised,” she whispered, gaze finally lifting to meet his.

Recognition flashed in his pretty eyes before they closed altogether with a sigh. He shook his head again, grimacing with a mixture of pain and understanding. “Nox…”

“I promised,” she repeated. “I promised you that you would live through this day and we’d figure out the rest together after.”

“That’s hardly a promise kept if you aren’t by my side,” Gale pointed out softly.

“I know,” she agreed. She did know, in the aftermath of the fight, she recognized the hypocrisy. “But that didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was you. What mattered was not losing you, not losing…” Her voice broke off as a small sob shook through her, her tears falling harder.

“Nox,” he mumbled. His one hand slipped forward to cup her cheek as his thumb brushed away a few tears. “I understand.”

She shook her head, silencing anything else he might have said. He did understand, she didn’t doubt that, he knew her enough by now to understand exactly her thought process leading up to her decision to jump in front of that blade. It didn’t matter, it was something she still had to say.