Planning their next move was not going to be a swift process and though Erebus and Natalya had been all for hashing out the details next to their friend’s grave as the cold wind cut through them, those from less melodramatic magical backgrounds had, with surprising force, put their foot down.
Fortunately Valda did have a tavern, The Melodious Duck who’s name’s origin had died with its owner but though the tavernkeeper was dead the food was still fresh and the beer passable, in the circumstances people were quite happy to serve themselves.
It was one of those silver linings that tarnished the closer it was examined, with its new population Valda had enough food to last it a long, long time.
Despite that the tavern was all but empty, or at least had become so once the mages had filed in, for all that they’d saved the town they’d saved so little of it that feelings weren’t exactly warm towards them.
Only three people remaining at a corner table, apparently engrossed in a game of cards an ebony-skinned elderly gentleman with a beard almost down to his waist, a young farm girl in a black cloak, not the rich black of a necromancer but simple cheap cloth, her tool of trade, a simple hand-scythe, on the table next to her and the third of indeterminate gender with their back to the mages acting as the dealer for whatever game they’d chosen, shuffling the cards with practiced ease.
Erebus waited for everyone to at least have a bowl of stew in front of them as well as a full tankard of surprisingly good beer, though Alec’s tankard was a fair bit smaller than everyone else’s to his considerable protest.
That done he called the meeting to order, “The big question, as I see it, is what to target first. The archmages at Seruatis gave me a list of chains to either destroy or reinforce, as well as various wounds in the world they thought it possible to heal and forgotten artifacts they’d traced through the Seruatis library. Now these are all tempting but I think we need to focus on freeing up Susan and Amara, which means getting the Umbral Temple off our backs and figuring out who’s got the capability to even organise an assassination in the heart of Vulcanus. Any suggestions?”
“There’s nothing to be done on my end I’m afraid, the Umbral Temple will hound anyone who knows I exist to the ends of Reath and beyond.” Susan told him with a barely perceptible shrug.
“’mara?” Erebus prompted the vampire, the dark-skinned woman startling out of her contemplation.
“It’s a hard one. The most senior of the killers was a master teaching at Vulcanus, but the cult he was part of lacks the resources to even hire one Nightblade, let alone two.” She supplied reluctantly, “The Nightblade I interrogated knew the order came from one of the cults but didn’t know which one.”
“Cult?” Alec asked more than slightly alarmed, cults were not, at least in paladin lands, a good thing, stories abounding of blood sacrifices and brainwashing.
“It’s what the pyromancer sects call themselves. Each one is founded around a fire elemental, sometimes more than one.” Erebus told him once Amara failed to prove forthcoming. “With the exception of the Academy Vulcanus which famously lacks for an elemental, and less famously has the most powerful elemental not currently in deep slumber. The cults act as guardians for their elemental as well as executors of its will, well those that have a will anyway.”
At this Amara finally felt able to comment without risk of compromising her people’s secrets, “Most fire elementals just want to burn things, they don’t much care what, give them enough wood and they’re happy as can be. Of course pyromancers can just cheat by channeling mana into it.”
“Weak cult or not, he’s probably our best lead. What sort of pressure would it take to get a master pyromancer to turn on a colleague?” Natalya asked, deferring to Amara’s judgement on internal pyromancer politics.
“Well there’s the obvious, payment, but Brother Malfior wasn’t the type and he didn’t have any family to threaten either.” The vampire replied, “So either blackmail, threats to his person or orders from above.”
“How senior was he in his cult?” Alice asked, trying to contribute what little she could. The shapeshifter wasn’t much for cloak and dagger work, possibly even less so than Amara. People didn’t call upon a warshifter for their subtlety.
“Second only to the Custodian.” Amara replied swiftly, “I’ve met Illia, total sweetheart. Takes after their elemental, Hearthsong.”
“Huh. I think I’ve actually heard of that one. The tavern elemental right?” Natalya asked with genuine interest.
“That’s the one. Chattiest elemental you’ll ever meet,” Amara smiled, noting the interested gazes, especially from Alec and Holly. “About a hundred years ago, Illia’s fireplace sparked an elemental. It’s rare, especially for fire elementals, few fires have the longevity. The entire cult’s still being run out of the tavern.”
“So fairly safe to say the only fire elemental that genuinely likes people didn’t put a hit out on you.” Erebus putting to voice what most of them were thinking. “What about the other assailants, could you identify them?”
“I knew three of them by face, only one of those name, but it’s the same story, minor cult with no real resources.”
“Well that cuts down heavily on our leads and motives.” Natalya noted sourly.
“Because you’re thinking too small.” Erebus concluded, the set of his jaw and the sudden exhaustion in his eyes told them he didn’t like the thoughts running through his head. “Do you want to know what I’d do if I wanted a bunch of random master pyromancers to do my bidding? I’d target their elementals.”
Amara stared at him aghast, pretty much every practitioner of the big four elemental magics would have given him a similar look of total horror. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
“Of course I do. It’s the easiest and most heavy handed method on offer, saves on the infrastructure and paper trail of a spy network or blackmail.” The necromancer informed her, “All you need is the power to murder an elemental in cold blood in its place of power.”
“That narrows the suspect pool at least.” Natalya observed, “Veil’s mercy, we’re probably on first name terms with most of them.”
Erebus couldn’t agree more, “It’s easily the thing I hate most about this job, harder to kill someone once you’ve been around their house for dinner.”
“Let’s say we use that as our working assumption.” Alice growled, “What does it get us?”
“It gets us a methodology.” Natalya replied smoothly, smile widening as she scented blood in the water, “And the problem with threats is that you have to actually follow through on them when someone says no. Does anyone know when was the last time an elemental was killed?”
“…that was me actually. The Maltz incident.” Erebus admitted, “but before that was… anyone?”
“The Cult of the Slumbering Forge.” Amara said, “An artificery with two elementals, one fire and one ice. The place detonated one night, everyone assumed the two had had a falling out and it got out of hand.”
“There would still have been an investigation, from the Council and Vulcanus.” Susan pointed out, “Nat, are you on the run right now or just fled as a precaution?”
“Precaution, and I see what you’re getting at, my credentials are intact. I’ll file a request for the reports, if I don’t return in two days assume I’m dead.” The necromancer stood up, smoothing her robe as she prepared to part the veil between worlds with her hands (and magic naturally).
“You’re just going to go now?” Holly asked confused.
“If I don’t know it, it can’t be tortured out of me.” Natalya told her primly, to a surprised but approving nod from Lana. Then she parted the veil of shadows and was gone.
It took a little while for anyone to find words after the abrupt exit. The absent necromancer was a highly skilled and powerful mage, and, if people were being honest, a reasonable voice that had thus far done a good job of balancing out the reckless crazy of their leader.
Such as right now, Erebus waiting until he was sure Natalya was gone before he said, “So here’s how we’re going to steal the records from Vulcanus…”
*
It was a day later and Elinore Arcwright, Archmagus of Flames, stared in disbelief at the hole in the roof of her beloved academy. “And you’re telling me no one tried to stop him?”
The recipient of the question quailed, “We were caught off-guard archmage, by the time we even knew an attack was underway he was already gone.”
“Which files did he take?” Elinore asked as she peered down the hole, well holes really, each a perfect circle just big enough to admit a human being, descending through the floors of Vulcanus to the attacker’s target.
“All of them archmage.” The head of the Vulcanus Guard, Isaac, just Isaac, answered wretchedly.
“All of them?!” She didn’t bother keeping the heat from her voice, she was a pyromancer afterall and the red hot rage in her voice was enough to singe Isaac’s eyebrows.
“Every file in the archives, the only ones they missed are the ones that were in use at the time of the attack.”
“You’re trying to tell me we lost every record? Every contract? Every deployment?” She hissed, steam escaping out of her mouth.
“Right now we’re having to conduct payroll on the honour system, the Council has a lot of the really old stuff and interdiscipline agreements backed up so we can retrieve those at least.”
Elinore scowled, “And the rest scattered to atoms. What was he thinking, trying to teleport from inside Vulcanus? Surely he had to know the building is warded?”
“That’s the thing archmage, whoever he was he got out clean. I don’t know what sort of mage he used but he stripped the wards from the archives before he ‘ported out. Scrubbed the signature afterwards too.”
If anyone had had the guts to ask her, Elinore would not have been able to tell them if that was better or worse.
*
The heist had been, in Erebus’ personal if biased opinion, a work of art and had gone as smoothly as any in his long career. It had also, as a matter of personal delight, been entirely bloodless. The victim unharmed but for their pride.
Entry had been the hardest part, the Academy Vulcanus was, as well as being a veritable fortress, a literal one as well. Built as the cap of a dormant (for a given and rather small value of dormant) supervolcano, the black stoned edifice had never once been conquered by force.
Every single brick was enchanted with every protective rune the Council of Mages could devise, and a rare few they hadn’t. A permanent barrier spell, much like Seruatis’, was in effect, designed to stop dead any spell and the vast majority of physical munitions, with a single but notable exception.
It didn’t keep out the living. A school that students couldn’t physically enter to attend would be a poor school indeed, though a number of teachers had lobbied for the change over the centuries to little avail.
Either way it had provided a weakness that Erebus could abuse. The necromancer had teleported high above the ancestral home of fire and earth magics, and though Vulcanus had a host of air defences they had taken far too long to acquire him as a target, designed to stop a full scale assault rather than a single man falling at terminal velocity.
What few shots that were taken missed entirely as he had passed through the shield bubble. A quick glance down told him he was still on target, a small mercy given the spellwork to come, while not complicated, would have to be fast. Adding another spell to mix would have been a trial if not an insurmountable one.
First entropy spells, the archenemy of runic magic and physical objects in general, four of them as fast as he could form them targeted directly beneath, carving a path for him through the building to the archive, at least according to the plans Amara had generously provided.
Then a spell sphere, accelerated and guided by telekinesis down through the entrance he’d just created.
Now came the genuinely dangerous bit, if one of a distressingly large number of factors went wrong he would die, it really was that simple.
If he didn’t bleed enough velocity when he entered the hole he would end up as an impressionist painting on the floor. If he bled too much too fast then the artillery spells currently failing to track him would turn him into a particularly gory firework.
If the spell sphere malfunctioned or was unable to maintain the panacea they’d all spent most a day charging it with for long enough, he would bleed out on the floor. If he missed the hole in the wall he wouldn’t be close enough to the sphere when he hit and he’d bleed out anyway. If he took too long to heal he’d have to fight half the academy and it was unlikely they’d be in a playful mood. And finally, if Amara’s information on how the archives were warded was wrong he’d find his atoms scattered over roughly a hundred miles.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
As he approached the hole he’d made Erebus was sure to keep his arms tight to his sides and his legs straight, it made the spell he was about to cast harder but it beat being sent into a fatal pinwheel.
He could have made this a lot safer but he couldn’t wipe the traces of magic he used while falling at this speed and he doubted he’d be given a chance to circle back so using chronomancy to make easy the spells to slow him were out of the question, even a hint he’d been dabbling in time magic would have turned him from ‘dangerous escaped criminal’ to ‘existential threat to Reath’.
The Council of Mages and the Holy Paladin Order he could outrun and outsmart, the few devils that had homes on Reath he could at least fight to a standstill, but if he got classified as the kind of threat that Immortals were dispatched for… well that wouldn’t be so bad. He was friends with most of them and they’d probably try and take him alive.
But there were other beings that would take notice, the ancient dragons would be stirred from slumber, a quorum of liches might be sent, one of the great wraiths might be freed. All threats even he was ill-prepared to fight.
Better to risk being pancaked.
As he passed through the entrance he released the spell he’d prepared, unseen force slowing and cushioning him. Sadly, with less than half a second to work it achieved little, his legs broke on impact and he was barely able to protect his head with his arms as he slammed hard into the rocky if dusty floor of Vulcanus’ archives.
He lived. It was hard to be grateful about it but he’d survived the initial impact and he could feel the panacea mending his limbs, though he’d had to wrench his leg around with a scream to stop his knee ending up facing the wrong way. The spell was usually damn good about that sort of thing but… well it was working on a lot right now and mistakes happened, especially with an unguided spell.
After close to two minutes he was at least able to stand up, which was fortunate given the panacea was running out. The necromancer wouldn’t have long to work, Vulcanus’ security may have been caught off-guard by the brazen assault but they’d be scrambling into action by now.
The next part was delicate. Entropomancy was the perfect tool for destroying ward and it would not be exaggeration to say that Erebus was the greatest practitioner of entropy based magic on Reath, but all that meant in this particular scenario was that he was especially qualified to rant at length about how indiscriminate it tended to be, that and how little being the ‘greatest entropomancer’ meant when there were less than ten of them alive.
The hard part was making sure it just affected the wards, introducing enough chaos into the system that they crumbled and failed, without also destroying the very documents he’d come to procure. The even harder part was ensuring it only affected the wards preventing teleportation. He had no grudge against Vulcanus and crippling their defences, even in this era of relative peace, was a terrible idea.
He managed it, more or less, there had been some collateral damage, at least one bookshelf had collapsed but given it was dedicated to millennia old tax records it provoked no particular pangs of conscience. Whether it provoked joy or not was something he would likely lie about under oath.
With escape now possible he removed the second spell and third spell spheres from his robe pockets, each just large enough to fill his palm. Carefully he dropped one and as it hit the floor it activated. One moment invading mage and library of records, the next a bare room with a couple of aged tax forms floating down to the floor.
There was one final addendum, the third sphere, seconds later blinked back into existence, it’s flash of omnidirectional entropy turning to chaos the intricate spellwork that had been deployed as well as turning to dust the pages that had escaped transfer.
*
Back in Valda, Erebus dusted himself down while carefully making sure all of him had survived the teleport. Accidents happened and, for everyone other than Sato, teleports were far more art than science. Fortunately Natalya had at least been able to keep his landing area free of insects. That was an especially unpleasant way to die but the necromancer had kept a crackling static charge in the air that had fried any interloping fliers before they could get close.
In truth even Erebus would have preferred other methods of transport but with the Umbral Temple searching for him the Realm of Shadow was closed to him, recent journeys had rendered Avalon a touch inclement and he’d long been unable to even look in a mirror without a doppleganger springing forth to try and choke the life from him.
The Hells were technically an option, especially with Lana at his side. Few would stop the servant of an imperator going about their business no matter how strange the company they kept, but for all the Hells did not map one-to-one to Reath, making transport faster, it was also imprecise, where locations lined up changed almost daily with few fixed nexi of travel maintained at great expense by both sides.
Besides, time was a resource they did not have in abundance, what it lost in mana requirements and safety teleports more than made up for in speed.
With the broad smile of someone who knows they’ve gotten away with something they really shouldn’t have, Erebus walked towards his companions, “My friends, I give you the archives of Vulcanus.”
Natalya gave him an unamused glare, the necromancy looked positively grey from fatigue, “Stop showboating and get to work.”
He opened his mouth to quip but closed it as he saw Amara’s expression, the vampire looked similarly ashen and was silently drawing a finger across her throat. The two mages had had to provide most of the magic for the spells, given he’d needed his in case anything had gone wrong, and were running on absolute empty.
It was noticeable, the lifelessness in the air where all the mana had been used and would take time to resaturate. Everything just felt sad and depressing.
It was one of the very defences that Seruatis used, that had all but crippled Janiah as she tried to cross it, sucking all the mana from an area made it inimical to both the living and undead, the very air trying to leech from them their magicka and vitae. Not much, but enough to make the experience unpleasant.
“I will but first you two get some food inside you.” The necromancer ordered, “You look like someone left a zombie in a desert for two years.”
They didn’t argue, leaving Erebus alone with the section of books… almost alone anyway.
“What don’t you want them to see?” Susan asked, rising slowly from his shadow as Erebus turned to example the spoils of his heist.
He laughed, the chuckle dark and bitter even for him, “Is my reputation really that bad? Nothing. I just thought they’d appreciate not feeling like they’re being wrung dry by the air. Now where do you think we should start?”
“I have no idea.” The shadow admitted, “This isn’t my organisation, things I might consider obvious pyromancers might regard as totally unintuitive.”
“True but your organisation as you put it knows an awful lot about hiding things, especially in plain sight.”
“Accounts and payments. For all you’re probably right about there being massacres hidden somewhere in these files, it’s always hardest to hide things in the money just because at the end of the day they need to know how much money they actually have, even if it’s hidden or coded there will be patterns. Things that don’t make sense.”
“Got any examples?” He asked as he selected a ledger at random and began to pore through it, although with his level of competency when it came to financial crimes perhaps paw through it was more accurate.
“Small places receiving rather more equipment and funding than makes sense. Regular large payments marked as ‘consultancy’ or something similarly vague. Just anything that makes you look at it twice.” The shadow explained, reading over his shoulder where she was unable to touch the books personally. Paper was still organic.
Erebus continued reading. By the time Amara and Natalya returned their skin had resumed it’s regular ebony (albeit with a slight glow from magically restrained ignition) and normal unnatural pallor respectively. That Natalya qualified as having a natural and unnatural unnatural pallor was something best left uncommented upon. Erebus was fairly sure it was an affection, his former boss playing into the necromancer stereotype, that or it was a serious undisclosed health condition.
“Any progress?” Amara asked as she grabbed a ledger herself, sitting down on the grass to read, Natalya doing likewise, the other necromancer moving out of earshot apparently preferring quiet to read in.
“Nothing sticks out so far, we could be at this for months unless we get lucky.” Erebus admitted with a grumble. “Where’s everyone else? The extra hands wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Oh they all made their excuses.” The fire mage told him, a gleam of mischief in her undead eyes, “Want to hear them?”
“Sure. I could use the laugh.”
“Alice claims her eyesight’s too poor to be of help.” She began, giving her former pupil a what-can-you-do shrug.
Erebus considered that, “Do you believe her?”
“Not for a second.” The vampire grinned, flashing her fangs in the process, “But she’s at least filling her time by helping Alec with his swordplay.”
The necromancer frowned, confusion furrowing his brow even further, “As I recall Alice was an exceptionally poor student of the blade even at the height of her health.”
“Indeed. If you want to watch a doddering octogenarian beat up an armed teenager with their bare hands then boy have I got the show for you right now.”
Erebus stifled his laughter with a hand, fooling no one, “I see. That accounts for Alec and Alice, and in truth the boy needs to work on his brawling anyway, his previous teacher, for reasons I can’t possibly speculate too, focused on not losing your weapon or letting them inside his guard. What of our remaining wayward souls?”
“A similar story. Lana claims that she finds our keeping of written documents confusing and that we mortals would find our time better spent cracking skulls until someone talks. She’s busy trying to teach Holly how to structure spells rather than just relying on instinctive casting, something about making them less of a liability.”
“Hmm…” Erebus grumbled, lips pressed tight together, “Well it’s a completely cohesive cover story but for one small detail. Lana’s main role under her imperator was to act as her librarian, still points for the effort I suppose.”
“Always the librarians with you.” Amara muttered inaudibly.
“What was that?” Her friend asked sharply. Clearly she hadn’t been as quiet as she’d intended.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What have you found so far? In the books I mean.”
“Also absolutely nothing. Well not quite, I think I’ve found three cases of blackmail being paid and one person who’s paying a findmage because she suspects her wife’s having an affair, but nothing that screams ‘murderous conspiracy’.” Erebus sighed, “You’re probably going to have better eyes for this than me.”
“Good point. Let me see the findmage stuff, just in case.” Amara replied, more or less snatching the gossip strewn ledger from her friend’s house and noting the section he’d highlighted with magic. “Huh, I’d never have guessed, Isabella and Anne always seemed so happy together.”
Erebus’ glare was thoroughly unamused, “We’re not here to get blackmail on your colleagues.”
“You’re not here to get it. I fully intend to return home once this is all over, they can all regard this as payment for my nearly getting assassinated in my Qrilotesh blessed home.” The vampire retorted, enough heat in her voice that it spilled over into spell and she had to hurriedly put out the paper as it began to singe.
“How close were you?” Erebus asked softly, putting down his book as he moved to sit by his friend, an arm going around her shoulders as his cloak rose over them both, shielding her from the sunlight so she could drop her defensive spells for just a moment.
“To Qrilotesh or to finishing the Rite?”
“Both. Either.” His shrug was a carefree one. “It’s up to you if you want to talk about it.”
“Since when were you the caring one?” She snarked, the heat vanishing from her voice as swiftly as it had arrived. Self-control did not come easily to either vampire or pyromancer but it did double as vital for both and Amara had put the work in – which was why Erebus was so concerned.
“Since my not caring created a monster.” He admitted, “I can’t avoid making mistakes but I can at least ensure I never make the same mistake twice.”
“Lutan?” She checked, receiving a nod in return, “You never told me what happened between you.”
“What’s there to tell… I killed his father. Uncle Erebus drained the life from his father and then consumed his soul as well, that it was Anton’s choice was irrelevant to a child.”
“He was fifteen.” Amara pointed out, “and not exactly coddled.”
“Fifteen is still a child.” Erebus rebuked firmly, “I tried to explain it to him, the lives that were saved, the heroism of Anton, but he wanted nothing to do with me and like a fool I stayed away until the anger had festered into hate and it was far too late to do anything. And don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” His friend barely managing to stifle a giggle; the proverbial child caught with their hand in the jar.
“Getting me to talk about my problems so you don’t have to talk about yours.”
“Is it that obvious?” Amara sighed, slumping in defeat, “Fine. I wasn’t even close to finishing the Rite. Ten years of constant meditation, constantly trying to listen for her thoughts… I was barely able to comprehend her surface thoughts. The worst part was she didn’t even get frustrated with me. At least then we’d both have been frustrated, more in sync.”
“I see. And what exactly about trying to share the mind of a living volcano did you expect to be easy?” Erebus asked, not bothering to keep the gruff chuckle from his words.
“Nothing but I thought I’d have something to show for it by now!”
The necromancer shook his head, already knowing the answer to his next question, “Is that why you did it? For power?”
“No! Of course not! The day Qrilotesh chose me was the happiest of my life. That the very soul of Vulcanus thought I was worthy of her attention!” The vampire protested vigorously.
“Yet you question her judgement?”
“Well… yes. What possible use could she have for a- a…” She gestured at herself, not quite able to say the word.
“Monster.” Erebus finished for her, enunciating the word with painstaking exactitude, “A monster like you.” The mage sighed deeply, gaze moving up to the sky his cloak of shadows was busy blocking. “You know this is the part where I’m meant to tell you you’re not a monster, but the truth is you are. Not because you’re a vampire but because you can kill without hesitation. You’ve killed enemies, you’ve killed innocents, you’ve killed friends.”
Each word was like a punch to the gut for Amara, the vampire visibly recoiling under them her eyes wide and watery with pain and betrayal.
“We’re all monsters here Mara.” The necromancer admitted, soft as velvet and gentle as a moquito’s bite. “I’m a monster. Lana’s a monster. Alice is a monster. Susan’s a monster, you’re a monster. The corpses of the slain are no less dead because we thought our cause righteous.”
“But I-“
“Do you want to know who else is a monster? Qrilotesh. For all she has willingly shackled herself to the Academy Vulcanus, she is at her heart a volcano and you could fill whole libraries with the names of her victims.”
“How dare-“
“I’m not done.” Erebus told her sharply, interrupting her again. “Now I’ve met Chosen before. Some of them are little more than elementals in a human suit, you can practically feel the magic consuming them from the inside. Qrilotesh doesn’t do that, she chooses people who are masters of the arts needed to coexist with her, what you call the Rite of Empathy a thousand elementals would call the Rite of Possession, and it’s not always the mortal being consumed.”
“It’s not the same.” The vampire blurted out.
“No. It’s not. Qrilotesh doesn’t want a puppet, she wants a friend. Someone who’s perspective can enlighten her and help her learn about the world. If you think yourself a monster I won’t gainsay you, but it’s that very perspective that she wants.”
“And how can you possibly know what an immortal being wants?” Amara retorted, getting more than little tired of the necromancer, no matter how well intentioned, trying to tell her the deep secrets of her own order.
Erebus paused, wondering what to tell her, finally settling on the truth, “I won a duel once and it was a terrible mistake. You know I was apprenticed to an imperator. She trained me in all the arts she could think of, hammered out every weakness she could find, and one of the things she taught me was how to duel with my mind.”
“Go on…”
“I don’t know if an imperator and an elemental are close in how they think but I’d imagine there’s a kinship there. That same knowledge that you’re doomed to watch everything around you fall to dust. That’s what I found in her mind, the one time I managed to slip past her guard. If I even did slip past, it’s equally as likely she let me in. That terrible loneliness. The knowledge that all connection was fleeting and all companionship doomed to become pain and emptiness.”
“And how exactly would I change that?” Amara snorted, glaring daggers at him.
“Because you too have the potential to be eternal. I suspect you may even be the answer she’s been looking for all these years, an eternal being with knowledge enough of pyromancy to survive the process. A friend she won’t have to watch wither and die.”
“Then why did she let me leave?” The vampire growled, determined to poke holes in this theory.
“Because if you start trying to control your friends then that’s no longer friendship.”
Amara was quiet for a very long time after that. Just sitting there quietly thinking.
Erebus didn’t move, content to sit next to her and letting her process their talk. On his own thoughts he kept silent, it wouldn’t have helped Amara to know that Qrilotesh’s hope, presuming he was interpreting the elemental’s intentions correctly, was a forlorn one.
Even amongst immortals one would eventually have to say goodbye to the other. Better to dally amongst humanity where one could numb themselves to loss given time.
That was what time was ultimately, the slow process of the universe grinding itself to dust.