Ravena gently stirred the tea in her cup and took a sip, letting Jon just stand there and decide what to do on his own.
She continued to watch the oncoming waves: the little white squiggly lines they were, cresting and crashing at the foot of the cliff far below, far beyond what any mortal could see. It’s wonderful that waves just did what they did, not even the slightest bit aware that they were chipping away at the base of the cliff, carving alcoves and teeth into an otherwise-smooth stone wall.
Soon enough, a familiar suit took his seat in the corner of her eye. Even then, she didn’t bat an eye, and they sat in silence for a minute.
What did she want? “Where are we?” Jon asked.
Ravena chuckled. “Still not going to ask whether you’re dead or not? That’s just like you,” she said, placing her empty cup back on its coaster. “So? Did you enjoy your stint at employment?”
What did that mean? Was he supposed to enjoy the same job he wanted to get away from? “Maybe not the job,” he said.
“Maybe not the job, he says?” Ravena poured herself some tea. “Is it this?”
With the wave of a hand, she showed him a moving image — of Amani keeping vigil over Jon’s body. She was kneeling beside him, two hands on his chest and head bowed down. Her lips were moving, muttering something that might be a prayer. Long locks of her hair had already turned gray. It irked him to see it.
“As of now,” Ravena continued, “her heart is beating once every five seconds. Same as yours. You understand what she’s doing, don’t you?”
“What” she’s doing, maybe, but “why” ? He’d long known that he was a man who didn’t understand much of anything, but now — and only now — did he have an itch to actually seek an answer to that damned question: why. Why choose to attach herself to a man like him? Attachment is weakness. If he dies, she will be left lost and wandering; didn’t she realize that?
His willingness to assist her, on the other hand, wasn’t some special thing, he thought. She was just the nearest person he could help. In terms of attachment, there was no way he could be attached: he barely understood her or her motives, let alone the things she felt and how she saw the world.
Or maybe he was just too narrow to understand something so basic. He didn’t know. It irked him not to know.
“You want to know?” Ravena hid her smile. It was a little amusing watching to him go around in circles in his head. Didn’t he realize he could just switch out a few nouns here and there, and he’d get exactly the same thoughts as he did in the First World?
The man hasn’t changed — but he was about to. “You won’t find the answer here,” she continued.
She slowly stood — and leaned over the table, her dress ruffling as she rested her cheeks on her palms like a girl listening to stories on her first sleepover. “Rather, Mr. Fuze,” she whispered, “I have a rather pressing question, and you simply must answer before you leave.”
Jon glanced down at the face of this ain’t-right-in-the-head goddess.
“Do you still want to go on” — she cracked a coy smile — “on this road of 10,000 Kills?”
Jon looked away, preferring to hear the crashing of thousands of waves, preferring to drown himself in deep, absent thought.
“If he dies, she will be left lost and wandering; didn’t she realize that?”
They were familiar words. Who’d said it? When?
— Himself. Ten years ago.
“She was just the nearest person he could help.”
That’s — that shouldn’t be right. That — he wished he hadn’t thought those words … remembered such memories to prove him wrong.
He’d once upon a time thought the same about his wife — two months before she’d dropped a whole montage of proving him wrong right on top of his head.
Obviously, attachment was weakness — just as much as one’s most fragile vitals were weaknesses, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? The things someone needed to live were all weaknesses by their very definition. If someone were to discard their arteries “because they were weaknesses,” they would die a fool’s death.
He was the biggest fool of them all.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Attachment wasn’t weakness.
Attachment was blood.
He eyed the image of Amani, an image almost frozen still were it not for the wind that blew her hair. It was so obvious now why she was so desperate.
“I guess I made a friend,” he muttered. Hearing his own words bounce back into his ears inflated his chest with alien air as he realized that he could feel things as appreciation, ardor, and compassion.
Clarity was a fiery thing. Ravena relished in it, smiling upon seeing Jon terrified by it, for he was a man of focus and commitment; things like wondering if there was a better path, he regarded as a distraction, but here he was being led right to it, his original strength becoming a weakness as he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the road he had always walked.
Clarity was … his wife’s name.
Even if he brought her back, wouldn’t she scorn him for throwing away everything she’d ever taught him? He didn’t want that.
Bringing her back just to say he was sorry … he couldn’t be proud of that.
He wanted to show her that the life she’d lived with him was for something. Being content with killing 10,000 people just for the sake of bringing her back? That was for fools, and he was — had been the biggest fool.
Things had to change.
“It’s still on the table,” he finally told Ravena. “One amendment.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Keep it open-ended.”
“Oh?” Ravena got off the table, sliding back into her chair. “You don’t want to bring her back, anymore?”
Jon paused before replying, “I’m figuring out a few things.”
Well, wasn’t that nice? “Such a simple thing,” Ravena remarked. She stood up, walking to the edge of the cliff, turning around to let Jon get a good angle of her painstakingly prepared dress for the day. “Come hither.”
As Jon stood up and joined her, she raised her hand. Again, he took her hand. Again, he kissed the ring.
“It’s been such a delight working with you,” Ravena said with a smile — stepping around his side and pushing him off the cliff.
He hadn’t felt any real force behind it, and it was so surreal to be falling without feeling any sensation of falling. Nevertheless, he rapidly approached the waves, falling into something that wasn’t quite water. As he kept falling and falling, he watched the currents around him, of the clearest water he’d ever seen, dance like auroras, clashing, diverging, but all heading towards the island plateau he had been on.
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Alyssa stood on a flat plain of grass, spotting the black-clad goddess standing by the edge of the cliff. She made her way to Her at a hurried jog, stopping some distance away.
Ravena chuckled. “Like husband, like wife.”
“Is he dead?” Alyssa asked.
Ravena turned around, gesturing to the tea table. “Not quite.”
Ravena sat down, and then Alyssa, after some apprehension. “Tea?” Ravena asked.
“Is he okay?” Alyssa asked instead, her brows furrowed.
Ravena smirked. “How concerned and devoted you are. Oh, worry not, everything is business as usual, so let’s speak about things moving forward, shall we?”
She pushed a cup of tea over to Alyssa, sliding it over with just the tip of a finger. Alyssa glanced at her, and seeing Ravena’s rare game face, she obediently received the cup, taking a sip.
“It’s good,” she said, putting it back down.
“Very good.” Ravena smiled again. “Rushing does no good for anyone, dear. It pains me that you aren’t confident in me.”
Alyssa’s eyes shied away, preferring to look at the grass beside Ravena. “Sorry.”
“Regardless, we must narrow our focus now more than ever. This recent incident, I admit, was skillfully disguised, even from me.”
Alyssa locked onto her again. “From you?”
Ravena chuckled. “Remember, dear, but myself and my sister abide by certain rules. It’s not as if they’re hard and fast rules, of course — I’m the one who sets them, after all — but in the history of histories, it’s been long proven that if we sway from these rules, the world … doesn’t react in an elegant way.
“And so, it shouldn’t be hard to imagine that certain persons would devote their lives to discovering these rules, and appearing after them, persons to exploit them, no?”
Alyssa cupped her mouth, looking down at the tea on her plate. “I … never realized it was like that. I mean, I’ve heard of groups like the Liberators and the Unitarians, but I’ve always dismissed them…”
“They aren’t the most pressing problem right now, however,” Ravena continued. “Listen well, Miss Rainsworth. Jon Fuze will head east and cross the Middling Sea into the Aranai while your friend puts your body back together. You will be resuscitated in one month’s time, at which point you will cooperate with her to establish the New Order.”
“ ‘New Order’ ? With … Cecilia?”
“The current Order is deliciously rotten to the core.” Ravena proudly flaunted a grin, sending shivers down Alyssa’s spine. Destroying things, after all, was like spice for Ravena’s menial maintenance job. “They’ll be gathering forces for a crusade into the Aranai, if you recall. We wouldn’t want that for our precious Jon, would we?”
Alyssa gave it some thought. “Were they responsible for the necromancers?”
“Ah, the Death Corps? Well, I won’t spoil quite yet — but I’ll have you investigate them as well when it’s convenient. For now, they’re all dead, so don’t you worry.”
“But they were targeting Jon in particular, weren’t they? Wouldn’t there be others?”
“Of course.” Ravena leaned over. “That’s why you’ll prod the innards of the Order, twist the knife, and pull them all out, won’t you? Who else knew about Jon, do you think?” She leaned in closer. “Those of the Order, am I wrong?”
Alyssa stood up and started towards the island’s edge. “You don’t have to convince me more than I already am,” she said — then she stopped, turning around to meet Ravena in the eyes. “Will Jon really be fine?”
Ravena enjoyed her tea, sighing with satisfaction. “He made a friend.”
Alyssa closed her eyes. Those were the best words she could have ever heard — a load off her shoulders she didn’t even know was there.
She tipped over and let herself fall from the edge.
One day, they’ll meet again, and it’ll be good.
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