[50 years earlier]

--Layer I--

--Caer Akris--

Revok

“Who knew the First Layer would be this beautiful?”

He hadn’t even said anything as he shuffled onto Caer Akris’ topmost balcony where Jael was currently perched. He was doing what he usually did: watching, philosophizing, and wondering – his eyes sweeping over the whole layer as twilight crept over the fading day, seeing more than any of them ever could.

Revok emitted his hoarse, coarse laugh.

“If I could see it, I might share your wonder.”

Jael turned to him then and beamed his childish smile. Revok was overcome as usual by the sheer feeling of his eyes on him. He always knew when Jael’s gaze was upon him. He’d known ever since the day he found him, dying in the sands of Minthros, and reached out his pale hand towards his own frail, ashen wing.

“You see in your own way,” Jael replied. “You saw how we could get those NPCs on our side, how this old dungeon could be used as a base, and how we could be as Gods to these people.”

Revok bowed. “I am blessed with the foresight of my people, my Lord, but it is you who have the vision to guide us through the depths.”

He felt Jael’s gaze linger on him before he turned away again to scan the desert horizon – watching where the arcs of purple lightning hit the fading sun as the artificial light of day began to dim.

“Come, Revok,” he said. “Perhaps you cannot see the sights. But you can bask in the glow.”

He did as his Lord bid him, keeping his claws at his side and strolling towards the edge of the balcony.

The wind gently brushed the feathers that framed his blind old eyes, but he barely felt it.

“How’s our boy coming along?” Jael asked abruptly.

“He’s a natural,” Revok responded. “Young Knox will be in full command of his Glance within a tenday. The Gnolls of the Sands believe themselves to be the only capable Windcallers in the First Layer. Knox has more than proven himself their equal. And, as a mortal, he exhibits the key independence of thought that shall lead to his eventual superiority over them.”

He felt Jael shift as he spoke, bending down by the balcony edge and leaning on his sword hand while the other dangled aimlessly over the side.

“You see his whole future in front of him, don’t you?”

Revok shifted now, too. “His path is not a challenging one to follow, my Lord.”

Jael smiled at that. But his reply was tinged, Revok sensed, with a hint of melancholy.

“Always weaving plans within plans,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at the withered bird. “Always one step ahead of the rest. The blind Argent with the gift of foresight. The Blackbird who knows his enemy’s movements as though they were telegraphed into his mind.”

Revok allowed himself a sad smile.

“And a Jilae I’ve been proud to call my compatriot.”

Here it comes, he thought.

Though it was pointless - though he knew it would serve no purpose at all but to betray his childish desire for some kind of preemptive retribution - he decided to say the words he knew were coming himself.

“You’re leaving us.”

Jael considered him before he answered, in a very different voice: “Yes.”

Revok felt his claws clench. He’d known. Of course he had. He’d seen this outcome on his path a thousand times, replayed over and over in his restless dreams. Like a Jilae that couldn’t control his own meditation.

He fought his anger. It would not serve him.

“Why?”

“Ah,” Jael sighed. “Therein lies the curse of the Jilae – always seeing glimpses of future events but being forced to grasp at their meaning. Motivations. Emotions. Chaos. It is a burden I would not wish upon even the most accursed Voidspawn.”

“You can relieve it,” Revok growled through clenched teeth. “By explaining why you seek to move on without us.”

When he said nothing, Revok couldn’t help himself:

“We have fought beside you to claim this place,” he said. Then again: ‘We fought beside you. We believe in you. You built a place to belong here, for us. We, the arse-end of Averix, vowed to follow you into the very depths of this abyss, and now you cast us aside like dirt.”

Jael did not move. Did not blink. He had no response at all.

Revok’s rage did not abate.

“We deserve to know why!” he railed. “We have been nothing but your loyal servants. You think Nils will take this sitting down? You think young Knox will? You – can’t forge these bonds between us and then just cast us out. You’re taking that damned pious lizard with you, and that demon-woman, so why not us?”

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Now he whirled on his Lord, his dark beak mere inches from his face, his hands itching for the sickles in their sheaths at his back.

“We know why you’re going down there,” he said, forgetting himself. “It’s because he’s down there, isn’t it? That’s why you need us with you! Even you won’t make it on your own!”

And when no response came even from that, Revok dropped his head, half-frustrated, half-ashamed.

“Why are you abandoning your people?” he asked in all but a whisper.

“Revok,” Jael finally replied. “When I pulled your childish form from the ruins of Minthros, and sequestered you in my quarters unbeknownst to Lady Amarata, do you remember what you told me?”

The old bird hesitated.

“I remember,” Jael continued. “You said: ‘I saw this. I saw the fire. I saw the soldiers coming. I saw mummy and daddy and brother and sister and friend and king and guards all burn up. I saw red-haired lady crash through the big walls and stamp on all Jilae heads. I saw her use her sword to burn our wings.’”

Jael stopped, seeing Revok wince at the memory. His claws clenched now not on the handles of his signature weapons, but on his loose, charred feathers.

But Jael did not relent: “Why did you not attempt to escape when the time came?”

And Revok sighed, his anger focused now inward.

“Because it was my home.”

“And in the innocence of your duty to your home, you stayed, even when you believed it would all fall to pieces,” Jael said. “That same duty is why you must remain here, with your brethren on the First Layer.”

Before he could argue, Jael went on. Though Revok did not feel that he was addressing him directly, this time. Once again he was looking out at the fading sun on the horizon, feeling the wind begin to die, and the cold, creeping dark of night take hold.

“Revok,” he said. “Those of us journeying on have accepted our deaths. We have made our oaths. We have made peace with our guilts, our hopes, and our dreams. We know the Everloft marks the end of our paths. That is why we are here.”

Revok could scarcely believe it, even though he heard nothing but absolute conviction in his Lord’s voice. It was inconceivable that this was the same conviction with which Jael had led them into battle whether in the darkened alleys of Averix’s cities or on the open, snow-capped plains of the realm’s frigid North.

Here he was, with his same steely determination, telling him he was going to die.

“If you go to your death,” Revok said. “It is only fitting we go with you.”

But Jael stared back at his blind eyes with a will that could not be opposed.

“Search within your sight, Revok, and you will not see yourself die down there, in the depths of this vile pit. You are destined to remain here, even if you hate me for it. Yours is not the right to die.” Then he added, with an almost childlike grin. “Not yet.”

“What…” Revok began, unsteady. “What am I supposed to do, here? We’ve cleared the dungeons. The people are ours. Our victory over the Gnolls is almost certain. What else must I do?”

“What only a Jilae like you can do,” Jael replied simply. “Rule.”

Revok double blinked.

“My Lord,” he stuttered. “You jest…”

“I think not,” he said. “Tomorrow I plan to make the announcement: I and the Dauntless shall venture below, and you shall reign in my stead.”

Another series of blinks.

“’Don Revok’,” Jael said with a chuckle. “It has an air of gravitas to it, does it not?”

Before Revok could scarcely take a breath, he felt Jael’s gauntleted hands on his shoulders.

“I give you it all, Revok,” he said. “A position fit for your abilities. A golden castle. Wine. Women. Bards to sing of your glory. An army of loyal followers. And the love and respect of the people we have liberated here, such as they are.”

He paused, seeing the shock slowly smear over Revok’s face.

“Not bad for a little blind bird, eh?” Jael winked. “You shall be the reminder that the Jilae are still a proud race, who, though forgotten by the world above, shall remain in the memory of the residents of the Everloft for all posterity. In this, I am giving you a gift more vital than any material good – a chance to remove the stain of guilt that lingers within your feathered black breast. Your people did not die in vain, Revok. They gave us you. And you shall do their memory proud.”

What could he say? Often, he’d thought back to this moment. He’d taken pains to note what he could have said that could have convinced his Lord otherwise. But every argument he could form had seemed like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum when it had the whole world thrown at its feet and demanded more.

So, he said nothing. He merely bowed, and suppressed the sigh that was rising in his black throat.

“Look at you, Revok,” Jael said. “You, the Jilae who always knows the right path to walk without exception, and yet whose feet drag on the precipice of your destiny. You hesitate. Perhaps rightfully. But, no matter. I am removing your hesitation for you.”

He leaned in closer, so that Revok could feel the touch of his breath itself.

“The time has come to take the right path, not the easy one.”

“Yes…” Revok murmured. “My Lord…”

“Yet,” Jael added, his tone now growing more severe, commanding complete attention. “With this wish, I also issue you one final duty: none may follow us. None shall ever venture to the portal chamber below. You will keep it guarded, you will either induct new arrivals into your ranks or cast them out to fester in the wastes. But you shall guard the exit to the First Layer with your life. Do this thing, and all the riches of this world will be yours.”

He felt his Lord lick his lips.

‘Fail,” he said, then gave a little shrug. “Well – why worry about something that isn’t going to happen?”

Again, he could only nod at this. His mind was too preoccupied to think of the implications of his Lord’s final orders. All he knew was this: he was being abandoned. They all were. No matter what Jael said, that was the truth of it.

And yet he was giving him everything he’d ever wanted, right? He couldn’t refuse. He was getting everything – material and immaterial – that he’d wished for since he’d felt the soft winds of Averix caress his blind face and known worlds that were more than the searing hot reality of his ruined home.

So, he bowed again, and whispered a hoarse reply:

“Thank you, my Lord,” he said. “For everything.”

“Do not thank me, Revok,” came the charismatic reply. “Without you, none of this would have been possible. I am giving you this gift as my thanks to you. You owe me nothing now. I wish only that the remainder of your path is lined with gold, and good fortune.”

And he bade his Lord goodnight as the latter left to make preparations for his ‘coronation’ in the morning. Evidently Jael wanted to head below sooner rather than later. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of Jael’s party were already waiting at the exit portal for him.

He felt the last stutter of wind caress his face as day died away to night.

And he cursed himself for his idiotic ‘thank you.’

“Yes,” he whispered to the night sky. “Thank you for your ‘gift’, Jael.”

The clouds of the Sands closed in, and the deep dark of death draped itself over the land.

“A golden house to die in,” Revok said. “And slaves to bury me…”

----------------------------------------

[Present Day]

He was roused from his slumber by a knock at his bedroom chamber.

The handmaiden he’d screwed last night was still passed out at the foot of his bed, and he did nothing but step over her naked body and open the door with little fanfare.

Knox stood before him. He could sense the seething malevolence in the form standing there and could feel the hidden hate behind the silence.

“Come in, Knox,” he said.

The little man did so, and Revok closed the door, almost tripped over the wounded woman, and proceeded to mix a small drink by the balcony.

“Care for a broth?” he asked, as Knox seated himself in a wicker chair by the balcony window.

The Windcaller shook his head.

“You never were one for the simple pleasures of alcohol,” Revok chuckled as he downed his drink with a single gulp. “I believe it to be one of humanity’s greatest achievements.”

Knox, as usual, said nothing to this. But Revok knew why he was here.

“It’s ready, isn’t it?”

Silence. Then: a nod.

“And the servants,” Revok pressed. “They are gathered?”

Another nod. This time, more confident. Almost excitable.

Revok smiled at that, and walked over to stand at the balcony’s edge, remembering only now the lucid meditation that had dominated his dreaming mind.

“You know,” he said, more to the sands outside than he did to Knox. “I think the worst thing about him was that he could look you in the eye and lie right to your face.”

Knox didn’t nod. But Revok could tell, as only he could, that he understood.

“I always knew Nils would be the first to go,” Revok then continued, tossing his glass from the balcony and hearing it smash somewhere below. “Make no mistake, Knox: he won’t stop them. The faint chance of revenge is the gift I gave him. But no. They’ll clear Bhashera and they’ll come here with their little army, intent on going below.”

Again, a tremor of acknowledgement. That was enough.

“We should’ve all died a long time ago, dear friend,” Revok said slowly, sadly. “That is why I must end it, here and now. In the end, we’ll be with him. That’s all that matters.”

He threw his head back, collected his sickles from his bedside, and donned his battlecloak.

“Are you ready?” he asked the silent man.

And he couldn’t be sure if he nodded or not, this time. For some reason, that was perfect. It was exactly how they should be meeting their fate: blind.

“Stay with me, dear friend,” he said, placing a firm wing on Knox’s shoulder as the latter moved his hand to grab it. “Let’s go.”