Odin appeared worn when they showed up in my dreams. I still wasn't entirely sure what power let them show up in my soulspace, or how they determined their appearance, but to my eyes they seemed... ragged. Their proud shoulders were weighed down, their Redlander's robes were wrinkled, their eyes red with lack of sleep.

I took in a deep breath at the flood of conflicting emotions that surged through me. Rifts, some part of me wanted to comfort them, and that was after they'd stranded me on another plane and abandoned me. I wouldn't ask. I wouldn't ask why they'd yanked me around like a puppet on a string. Whatever their reason was, it would never be enough.

Instead, I just went to business.

"Iola is coming," I said, "and he's going to kill us when we try to save Jiaola."

Odin nodded. "I know," they simply said.

"You made an offer to Lucet to kill him. But you don't make offers, do you. No, you just do whatever the fuck you want, and pretend that that's what your victims wanted after the fact. What was best for them," I snarled.

"I acknowledge that I hurt you," Odin began. "I am very, very busy as of now. My culpability in beginning the process of emotional healing and then leaving it halfway through is undeniable, and I came here partly to apologize—"

"I don't want to hear it," I snapped. "If you want to apologize, then you can do so by sending a riftmaw or three out to kill Iola. I don't care how freakishly powerful Iola's regeneration is; nothing survives getting a riftmaw to the face."

"Iola's superiors did," Odin said absently.

I froze.

"While you've been fighting battles," Odin gently explained, "I have been fighting a war. Iola is powerful, but he is a juvenile of his kind. The Silent Peaks have made deals with entities that they should not have, and everyone is paying the price."

I wanted to shoot back something about how this could all have been avoided if they simply hadn't attacked the Silent Academy, but... I'd read too many souls to truly believe that. The Silent Peaks were an authoritarian, brainwashing horror-fest, and if Odin didn't take them down, the Peaks would become a nightmare from which nobody would ever wake. "I understand that you have larger problems to deal with. But... you made an offer. And you never back down once the offer has been made."

"I do not," Odin agreed. "Iola is an abuser, a monster, and has lost sight of what it means to be mortal. He needs to die, and it shall be my actions that cause it. But I have a war to win first. I cannot aid you now."

"I'm willing to make it worth your while," I said. I met Odin's eyes. "I'm willing to promise you my soul upon my death."

Odin let out a deep, remorseful sigh. "I'm very sorry," Odin mused, "but that's not the bargaining chip you think it is. Aim higher."

I blinked. "Selling you my soul isn't enough of a bargaining chip?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Odin tilted their head. "Your soul will fall into my domain eventually. Hastening that eventuality by a scant few decades is... not nothing, but certainly not worth the price that you ask."

A chill ran down my spine. "What... what do you mean, my soul will fall into your domain?"

The Demon of Empathy gave me a kindly, sorrowful, empathetic smile. "You've lived much of your life—especially certain key moments—experiencing too much empathy for others. Not all of your soul will fall into the Plane of Empathy upon your death, but enough will. Enough that... I'm afraid that salvation for the one you ask is not a fair trade."

I scowled. "Since when do you care about fairness?"

"Since humanity did," Odin simply said. They folded their thick, muscular arms across their chest. The soulspace surrounding us was featureless and empty, so Odin manifested a chair to sit on. "I know that you want to save your uncle. Believe me, I feel your soul as if it were my own."

"Gee, thanks. That's an awfully reassuring thing to hear from a fucking demon," I muttered.

"Would you like me to reassure you?" Odin leaned in. "I am very reassuring, when I want to be."

"No," I snapped. "Get to the part where you name my price. Do you want the secrets of attunment? Is that what you—"

"No," Odin simply said. "That is not something you would give. Please don't waste my time by pretending otherwise."

I closed my eyes, clenching my fists, but he was right. "...Please. Jiaola... my uncle... he was there for me, when I needed him. When I hated myself so much that my soul was overgrown with thorns. If you really are a Demon of Empathy... help me."

"I cannot," the Demon of Empathy murmured, and rifts help me, but they sounded genuinely regretful.

I fell silent.

Then I whispered, "Help me, or I will consign my soul to oblivion."

By the stunned silence that followed, even Odin didn't expect that. "Excuse me?"

My eyes shot open, and I glared at the Demon of Empathy. "You think you've won because my soul will fall into your domain upon death? Well, fuck you. If Jiaola dies here, I'm finding the nastiest soul-eating monster on the continent and jumping straight into its maw. And you don't get anything. No soul fragments, no memories, nothing. Only an eternity knowing that you could have saved an innocent man from a horrible fate and refused. Because I know you care about me. You're a Demon of fucking Empathy—you're made of the stuff. If nothing I can offer will entice you to help me, I will damn well make sure you hurt if you don't save Jiaola."

"You wouldn't dare destroy your—" Odin grimaced. Because yes, the Demon of Empathy understood me. Yes, the Demon of Empathy had a read on my very soul.

And because of that, they knew all too well that I was more than willing to carry out my threat.

"You throw a tantrum and flip the board because you are losing," Odinfinally said. "This helps nobody."

"This helps him," I shot back. "Give me something. Anything."

Odin took in a deep, frustrated breath.

Then, incongruously, they faintly smiled.

"...You play a dangerous game, Cienne. If I had the time, I would coax you back from the cliff you stand on. But if I must give you hope with nothing but words, then let me speak." Odin leaned in, eyes twinkling, and said, "The research took months, but your hints were more than I had found in centuries. And so I will tell you this: I refused you because I already know the secrets of attunement. To give, to take, to feel, to lose. The four connections that make a complete circuit, from soulspace to thoughtspace to realspace and back." I flinched. "And because I already know... you are free to share those secrets with your fellow warriors, without fear of prying ears."

"Wait," I blurted out. "Attunements aren't enough. Surely you have something else. A secret technique, a weapon, anything—"

"I have given you all that I can give," Odin said, shaking their head. "Farewell, Cienne. The next time we meet, either you or Iola will be dead."

And I woke up panting, eyes wide, surrounded by my friends.

"What happened?" Lucet asked. Sansen did a double-take, staring into the future.

"Did they give you anything?" Meloai asked, wringing her hands.

I closed my eyes. Opened them again.

Then, hoarsely, I confessed, "I know the secrets of attunement."