Chapter Twenty-Two: An Explanation

Raimie

Disoriented, I woke up with a snort. What on earth had happened? I’d only meant to lay here for a little while, not fall asleep.

And why the hell was my hand already on a weapon’s hilt? Had the last weeks’ dangers so thoroughly influenced me that my first instinct on waking up was to reach for my sword?

It… made sense, if they had. How many times had I almost died since finding Shadowsteal? Alouin, what if someone had come to attack me again while I was sleeping? I knew I had Dath watching my back but… that didn’t completely stop a sudden wash of fear from falling over me.

“You’re safe.”

I released a held breath like someone had just punched me. That voice… it had only been a few weeks, and I already felt a sense of safety when I heard it.

“Rhylix,” I sighed. “Thank Alouin you’re here.”

I had so many things I wanted to discuss with my friend, so many, and one of them had appeared at my side. Bright was hugging its elbows, chewing on its lip, while Dim was on all fours beside me. When the splinter saw me focusing on it, it let out a shaky breath, sitting back on its heels.

I reached out to reassure them that I was ok before remembering myself. Freezing, I craned my neck, trying to check my surroundings, but someone’s hand on my knee stopped me.

“We’re alone,” Rhylix said. “I sent Dath to get some rest.”

Ah. In that case.

I brushed my fingers along the edge of my splinters’ forms, which had Bright crouching to meet me.

“Everything’s ok,” I said. “I’m… glad you’re still with me.”

And surprised as hell to mean it.

“You didn’t show up in Alouin’s world. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, especially when you weren’t hovering after I woke up.”

“We didn’t want to distract you,” Dim said.

“And we thought that our presence might detract from your reunion with your father,” Bright added.

“But!” Dim interjected before I could reply. “We’re glad that you’re alive, ya idiot. Or I am. I’m not so sure about Ind. Prim here.”

It threw a thumb over its shoulder at Bright, who glared back.

“You’re only happy because you’ll have more chances to spread your mayhem,” it stiffly said before turning to me, “but I’m also glad to see you awake and breathing. More than I can say.”

Their relief hit me like a fist to the face, leaving me speechless. I’d known they were fond of me on some level, considering our past interactions, but this felt reminiscent of how my father had welcomed me back to the living, which made me a little uncomfortable. Could I return their affection equally, especially when they’d made such a significant change in my life?

“You don’t have to respond, you twat,” Dim said, rolling its eyes. “By me, you overthink everything. Relax.”

“And speak with the whole’s… with your friend,” Bright said. “I’m sure you have things to clear up with him.”

“But…”

I sat up, concerned when doing so took more effort than before. Shouldn’t sleep have dulled my weakness?

Shaking my head, I asked, “What I mean is, will you stick around? I’d like it if you did. Your presences could be useful, but I don’t want to discomfit anyone. Wouldn’t being here make you uncomfortable, Dim?”

The splinter blinked at me before snickering, although its attempt at derision seemed forced.

“I’ll be fine unless you make me manifest more fully on the physical plane. That… person,” it spat, “repulses me a hundred times worse than this strait-laced partner you’ve stuck me with, but it’s not so bad when a few layers of reality lay between us.”

Deadpan, I said, “You realize I understood about half of what you said, right? I thought you were more eloquent than that.”

“I-” Dim said, getting flustered. “How else am I supposed to explain it? You-”

It broke off when a smirk spread across my face, and Bright muffled a laugh with its hand.

“I don’t have to understand,” I said. “I only care if you’ll be comfortable.”

As it glowered, Dim’s eye twitched, and it folded its arms across its chest.

“Just when I forget why you attracted me, you remind me,” it grumbled. “You might want to be careful who you start a prank and tease battle with, insolent brat.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a straight face.

I turned my back on Dim’s pleased sputtering, facing Rhylix.

“Sorry,” I said. “I thought it best to calm them down before getting started with you.”

“That’s understandable,” Rhylix quietly said.

I paused at the look on his face. He was holding his body loosely with a bland expression pasted in place, but something unreadable lurked in those gray eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Raising an eyebrow, Rhylix grinned at me.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t do that,” I snapped. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Trying to hide it after I’ve noticed is just insulting.”

Sliding his eyes closed, Rhylix heaved a sigh.

“All right,” he said before meeting my gaze. “You have to be more careful. No one besides myself and Chela knows this, healers as we are, but it’s a godsdamn miracle you’re alive. Once Ferin and her friends pulled you out of sinking mud, she started chest compressions early enough to get sludge out of your lungs, and I gave you the antidote for the poison as soon as I reached you but… by the time Ferin and I got you back here, you were dead in all but name.”

Rhylix bit his lip, looking away.

“I need you alive, Raimie, because you’re essential to freeing my homeland, sure. But you’re also the first real friend I’ve had in a while. Ferin and I… that relationship comes close, but this here-”

Waving between us, he firmly met my eyes once more.

“You cannot get hurt as badly as you were two days ago. You just can’t.”

Hell, Rhylix had gone from placid to intense far more quickly than I’d thought possible. He’d always seemed steady and implacable, but unnerving as it was to see raw emotion in my friend, I also found it gratifying. It was proof that he cared.

“I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt,” I said. “Apparently, a lot of people want me dead, meaning something like this is bound to happen again.”

And wasn’t that strange? From a nobody to someone a powerful mage was hunting down while also facing a conspiracy. It was almost as great of a disconnect as the idea that people might expect me to lead a kingdom.

But I wasn’t touching that topic right now.

“You’re helping me learn how to defend myself, a skill that seems more important with every day,” I continued, “and I was hoping…”

I swallowed. Alouin, even having resolved to take this course of action, the request for it kept getting stuck in my throat.

“I was hoping you’d extend your instruction to magic use.”

Rhylix’s revealed hard edges softened.

“You want to become a primeancer?” he asked.

With a sharp laugh, I said, “Not particularly. But I already am one. I might as well accept it and learn what I can do. Leaving such a useful tool to rust seems unwise.”

Shaking his head, Rhylix let his lips curl.

“That was fast, not that I’m complaining. It will be nice to have a comrade in arms,” he said. “And of course I’ll help. I’d love to teach you what I know.”

“Great!” I said, scooching closer to my friend. “Because I was hoping we could start with a preliminary lesson now.”

Rhylix burst into laughter.

“Gods, aren’t we eager?” he said. “Fine, then. A first lesson shouldn’t stress you too badly, although you’ll have to forgive me if I go over your head. You know very little about primeancy, and it’s been a while since I touched the basics.”

A while? What was that supposed to mean? Rhylix couldn’t be more than thirty years of age. If he couldn’t remember the simplest parts of his magic, how young had he been when he’d gained it? A toddler?

Then again, Rhylix was from Auden, a fact that I’d carefully trod around. I didn’t want to upset him or learn about that land in greater detail.

If even a fraction of the tales from Audish refugees was true, however, every day in that kingdom was a fight for survival. In circumstances like that, having the basics of a skill fade from one’s mind was understandable.

“Makes sense,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I get confused.”

Rhylix’s pinched eyes relaxed.

“Good. In that case, we’ll talk about the foundation that your primeancy is built upon before moving on to a more practical lesson,” he said. “Sound good?”

“It sounds excellent,” I said.

With a smile, Rhylix said, “When last we spoke, you mentioned that primeancy is rooted in two forces of nature, and this is true. The people of this world call them Ele and Daevetch. We’re not sure if they have a true name, although splinters—a subject I’ll get to in a minute—usually don’t like us giving these forces a name.”

Clicking its tongue, Bright said, “Can you blame us? You lot giving names to… what you’re discussing is comparable to if an ant defined you with a word like Ambivalent or Giant.”

I, having raised a finger toward Rhylix, opened the eye that I’d closed, glancing at the splinters behind me.

“I could see how that might offend you, and I’m sorry you have to deal with it,” I said, “but could you two move somewhere I can see you? Also, can you wait to speak until Rhy pauses in his explanations, which yes, Dim. I know that doing the opposite would be so much more fun, but if you interrupt, it’ll make learning harder for me. You do want me to learn about primeancy, right?”

“Damn you for knowing how to stop my antics already,” Dim huffed.

But the splinter joined Bright in circling into view. Meanwhile, I grimaced.

“Sorry, Rhy. Bright started talking over you,” I said. “The last thing I heard was about how splinters don’t like us giving Daevetch and Ele names.”

The confused expression on Rhylix’s face smoothed out.

“Ah. That makes sense,” he said. “You have them sorted now?”

I glanced at Dim, who was flicking flecks of shadow toward Rhylix, and Bright, who was softly growling under its breath.

“For the most part,” I said.

“Then, let’s continue,” Rhylix said. “So, what you don’t know about Ele and Daevetch, the most vitally important part of them, is how necessary they are to reality. Lying beneath its surface, they underpin everything. Everything. One—Ele—encompasses everything that we mortals consider moral while Daevetch… you can guess what that force involves.”

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“But how do you know that?” I interjected, unable to stop myself from asking. “How do you know that Daevetch is evil and Ele is good?”

It was a genuine question, coming from multiple sources. For one, I’d always found people who believed in absolutes nauseating. Humans and Esela weren’t prefect. Given that, how could a member of either species believe that their viewpoint was flawless?

Secondly, I had my splinters to contend with. If one of them was associated with Daevetch, did that make me evil as well?

My question seemed to have stolen the breath from Rhylix. I’d never seen a man so thoroughly rattled as the one who sat before me now, but with a shake of his body, the Eselan gathered himself.

“I’ll let you judge Ele and Daevetch for yourself, but let me finish explaining before you do,” he said. “Each of these forces of nature, these primal forces, is comprised of many different aspects, and ‘pieces’, splintered from these aspects, are what a primeancer attracts to themselves.”

With one of my splinters shuffling in place, I raised a hand to my friend, and when I looked at it, Bright let pent-up pressure burst from it.

“Something else you should know about us. We’re only active in a select few iterations, those that are judged the most vital in our Eternal War,” it said. “For the most part, our aspects are what influence a nation or a people or a world, not us.”

“Since you’re here, I have to assume that this… iteration is one of the special ones. Why?” I asked, crinkling my brow. “Are the others so different from it?”

Giggling, Dim said, “Hardly. But unless things drastically change… unless Bright and I fail, this will be the final battleground. Eventually.”

“…Great.”

So helpful. Why the hell had Bright shared information that would only confuse me?

Returning my attention to Rhylix, I gestured for him to continue with an apologetic grin, one that my friend waved away.

“You can judge each primal force through its aspects, or that’s how I’ve always done it,” he said. “Some examples of Ele’s aspects include Growth, Purity, and-”

“Order,” I breathlessly finished.

When I pinned my eyes to Bright, the Ele splinter inclined its head to me, and after switching to Dim, the Daevetch splinter flourished a bow.

“Which makes you of Chaos,” I said. “And conversely, Purity’s match would be something like Corruption, and Growth’s Decay. I’m guessing, of course.”

“That’s it exactly,” Rhylix said. “Do you understand Ele and Daevetch’s alignments now?”

No. To me, with my limited perspective, both primal forces seemed necessary, nothing good or bad about them.

Without Decay, Growth would overwhelm the world. For example, the perpetuation of the aged would leave no room for the newly born, and without Chaos, Order would make a society too rigid, leaving no concessions for creativity.

Considering how Rhylix had responded to my earlier uncertainty, however, I wasn’t sure how fervently I could repeat my doubt. So, I lessened it as much as I could while remaining truthful.

“Not really,” I said, “but my beliefs aren’t important right now. Please, continue your lesson.”

This answer didn’t get me a better reaction than my initial question. Rhylix looked as if his world had shifted in an unpleasant way, so I cleared my throat, hoping to jar him from it. I hated having caused him discomfort.

“Yes. The lesson,” Rhylix said, shaking his head. “Well, here is where I’d help you pull Ele to yourself, but since you’ve already done that, we can move on-”

“Wait. I have?” I said. “When?”

Shouldn’t I remember having done something like that?

At least my confusion seemed to have put Rhylix back in control.

With an amused smile, he said, “Besides when you closed Allanovian’s tear? Several times. During your second trial. When you first fought Dath. That boy also intimated that you might have used Ele when fleeing the people who attacked you.”

“I was using magic when…?”

How in the void had no one noticed me doing that before?

But besides that, the idea that I could have forgotten something so life-altering had me suppressing a shiver.

“Rhy… I don’t…”

“I know. Having listed the times you’ve used Ele, I’ve realized that they were also times of extreme stress for you,” Rhylix said. “You- hell, this is an interesting concept for me, but you might have instinctually called on the primal forces’ power.”

Which wasn’t terrifying in the slightest.

“But that means I’ll need to teach how to intentionally access Ele,” Rhylix said. “Do you remember anything from the instances I mentioned?”

Coughing a bit, I said, “Just- just what I already told you.”

“So, you feel them at least. That’s good,” Rhylix said. “Although… huh. You might be the first person this question applies to, but is there a distinction between the energies you feel?”

That was a good question. For the most part, I’d ignored the sensation of untapped power, just out of reach, but with my attention drawn to them, I did notice a difference.

“One’s a roiling storm of angry energy. Wild. Alluring,” I said.

Falling silent, I let this foreign, imparted feeling wash over me before shaking myself.

“The other is… peace. Perfect contentment with who I am for the first time in-”

Cutting off, I bit my tongue. I’d talked for far longer than I’d meant to, almost revealing one of my deeper insecurities, but Rhylix hadn’t noticed. With distance in his eyes, he drummed his fingers on his knees.

“That is an… interesting take on Ele. Not wrong, of course, merely different from mine. I’m glad that you experience such tranquility when accessing it,” he said with a smile. “As for the other, it sounds about right for Daevetch: uncontrolled and unparalleled power.”

“Wow! No insult?” Dim sarcastically muttered. “I thought for sure-”

“It matches the temperaments of its asshole primeancers,” Rhylix continued, talking to himself.

“And there it is,” Dim sighed.

“He’s right, though,” Bright said. “Your humans tend to be… not the best of people.”

Dim took a step toward its counterpart, opening its mouth, and wincing, I rubbed my temples.

“Please, don’t start arguing,” I said. “Hell, you’re making this process difficult.”

Clicking its teeth together, Dim returned to its spot.

“Whoops,” it said.

Meanwhile, Bright drew itself upright.

“Unless it’s relevant, you will not hear from us again,” it said.

Nodding acknowledgment, I dropped my fingers into my lap. Maybe the splinters would stop adding to my burgeoning headache.

“What does that have to do with using these energies, Rhy?” I asked.

“Well,” Rhylix drawled, “we wouldn’t want you drawing on the wrong one right now. Not only have I only used Ele in my lifetime, making me a useless teacher for Daevetch applications, but you saw how I reacted when it was pulled to the physical plane before.”

I remembered how my friend’s face had turned green in the moonlight. Alouin, he’d tried so hard to hide the tremble in his hands!

“I don’t want a repeat of that,” I said, “but if you can only teach me about Ele, how will I learn about Daevetch?”

As if weighing his words, Rhylix said, “You could not use it.”

The growl that Dim unleashed on the world almost rumbled from me, but I held it in check. Arguing about this would serve no purpose, not when more important matters called for my attention. For now, I’d have to content myself with unraveling Daevetch’s intricacies on my own.

“Perhaps,” I replied to Rhylix, flexing my hand at Dim.

Surprisingly, the splinter fell quiet, looking almost self-satisfied, and a little mystified, I shook my head at its strange behavior.

“But we should focus on what I can learn,” I said. “So, how do I use Ele?”

Rhylix looked like he wanted to further argue the point, but he relented instead.

“The peace that you feel,” he said. “It’s centered somewhere, yes?”

“…Yeah, now that you mention it.”

It most strongly emanated from a point hosted in Bright, and the splinter indulgently smiled at me.

“That’s your source. Later, we’ll talk about what that is,” Rhylix said. “For now, though, focus on that point of peace. Reach through it to the energy beyond, and tease a thread to you.”

He made it sound so simple. I was sure that more would be required of me, but like my time beside the tear, I tentatively reached for my source, and from nowhere, understanding slammed into me.

As if it was nothing, I gathered white light in my hands, cupping them like Rhylix had done, days ago. My friend’s hum of perplexity was lost in my stare at the energy pooled in my palms, and after who knew how long, I dragged my gaze to Rhylix.

“What can I do with this?” I asked in monotone.

What need was there for intonation or inflexion? My words carried my meaning, so why ripple the smooth pond of my voice with expression?

At that, Rhylix half-smiled.

“First, you can release the Ele that you’re holding,” he said.

With an order given, I obeyed. I leeched white light into the world, and once it was gone, I gasped, throwing a hand to my chest. What had that been?

“As you may have noticed, holding primal energy affects your emotions. Sorry, I should have warned you,” Rhylix said, “but don’t worry. With practice, that will quickly fade.”

Rubbing my arms, I said, “It had better. That was awful.”

“Mm,” Rhylix said with his half-smile now holding a secret. “But you asked about uses for Ele?”

I worked my jaw as I nodded. Why had that sense of perfect harmony been so disquieting?

“Considering how many there are, I’ll only focus on three, basic skills,” Rhylix said. “First and foremost, Ele makes you fast, so much so any the norms around you—those without magic—will look like they’re moving in slow motion.”

Humming, I said, “I bet that makes us hard to hit.”

“Exactly. Your speed has drawbacks, of course, but we’ll discuss those later,” Rhylix said. “Second, if you release Ele in a burst instead of leaking it from you like you did just now, it will generate a burst of force.”

Stopping, he looked at me expectantly, and I realized that my friend expected another example of a real-world application from me.

“Um.”

Scrambling, I searched for an answer in my surroundings, nearly bursting into laughter on catching Dim’s yawn, but a glimpse of Bright’s long-weathering sigh kept it inside.

“You did it during your second trial? Before that one took hold of you,” it said, jerking its head at its counterpart.

At the memory of a caved-in face, my gorge rose, and I took a few moments to control it before answering Rhylix’s unspoken question.

“Propelling enemies from you,” I hoarsely said.

Softening, Rhylix radiated concern, but he didn’t comment on my distress, to my relief.

“Yes, you can do that, although there are other applications as well,” he said. “I always thought it was curious how the primal force that encompasses protection lets its primeancers harm others with it. It seems contradictory.”

And indeed, Bright appeared mighty uncomfortable with this paradox, shuffling in place. When Dim cupped a cheek to leer at its counterpart, the Ele splinter started sputtering, and I returned to ignoring them.

“It’s interesting, yes, but I won’t question it,” I said, “not when it might save my life someday.”

Blinking, Rhylix said, “That’s a good point. But in any case, there’s only one other Ele use we should discuss today. Considering how consistently you’ve gotten injured since I met you, it might be the most important one as well.”

I spread my arms.

“Lay it on me.”

This set a twinkle in Rhylix’s eyes with an unshared joke held behind them.

“Healing,” he said, “or a version of it at least.”

Oh. Of course.

“Was it you, then?” I asked. “You brought me back from the brink of death.”

Rhylix stiffened.

“What makes you think that?” he asked with his tone bordering on harsh. “If Ele’s version of healing worked the way you suggested, if I could fix a person’s injuries without any consequences to me or them, do you think I’d be in Ada’ir alone right now? No. I’d have family. I’d have-”

He sucked in a breath, but after a few tries, he found his voice.

“I couldn’t have saved my parents. I know this, but my baby sister? She should have lived. You didn’t see what happened after Ren and I fled home. We ran for what seemed like hours and miles, but it- it was neither, not by a long shot. We’d almost made it to the closest tree line when Ren tripped. Her foot had gotten stuck in a hole and her ankle… fuck, it was a bad break.”

Folding to rest his elbows in his lap, Rhylix scrubbed his face, but I didn’t use this pause to offer useless sympathy. I knew what this sudden outpouring was: a confession, and I wouldn’t interrupt it, no matter how uncomfortable it was making me.

“She screamed. Gods, I still hear it,” Rhylix said. “I could see the Kiraak coming. Their whoops and hollers mixed with the shriek, swirling around me, as usual. Gods, every time!”

With a strangled sob, Rhylix straightened.

“Ren was magnificent,” he said. “She heard them coming, and swallowing her pain, my sister begged me to leave her there. And hell, I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay, to fight, to protect, but something took hold of me. I fled, and my sister died.”

Breathing hard, Rhylix held my gaze, but I refused to show him the condemnation he was looking for. Who was I to judge him for this when I’d gotten my mother killed?

“So, yes,” Rhylix eventually said. “If Ele’s healing worked the way you suggest, Ren would be alive. I’d have fixed her ankle, and we would have escaped Auden together.

“What Ele can do, however, is sustain you for a time. Say you get stabbed. Ele will keep you from bleeding out or let you walk on a disabled leg. But this effect only lasts for a little while, and when Ele leaves, the injury will return with interest.

“Now. With only a single suggestion of the possibility, why on earth would you think that I healed you?”

The question didn’t penetrate my mind at first. I was still grappling with Rhylix’s story, but when he pointedly cleared his throat, I slapped my cheeks.

“I don’t know. Because you were the last one near me when I was floating outside of my body?” I said. “You sent the other healer away before sitting at my side. Then, you said… what was it? ‘You bastard. Don’t die on me.’ And light ripped me back here.”

Wordlessly, Rhylix stared at me until I shifted in place.

Then, he said, “You experienced something after your essence left your body.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.

“Tell me everything,” Rhylix said.

So, I did, everything about Alouin and the space between realities, and when I was done, Rhylix had closed off. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t read him.

“Interesting,” he eventually said. “There could be some truth to what you saw, although I’m not sure how much. The mind does strange things when under extreme stress. I’ve never heard of someone going through something as lucid as what you did, though.”

He was quiet for a moment, leaving me anxiously watching him, before slapping his knees.

“That’s enough of a lesson for today, don’t you think? We can continue with them once we resume our travels,” he said. “You should rest, and I need to figure out who tried to kill you. I might consult with Chela about your adventures outside your body too. If that’s ok with you?”

“I suppose,” I said. “Only if you think it will help, though.”

“It should.”

With a bright smile, Rhylix stood.

“Rest well, Raimie. I’ll send Dath in here soon.”

He strode for the tent’s flap, and almost, he escaped before my thoughts caught up with what was happening.

“Rhy?” I called.

Pausing at the tent flap, Rhylix glanced back at me.

“Yes?”

Squirming, I picked at my bedroll’s blanket with the weight of my friend’s gaze dragging my eyes down.

“What I saw and all the things that Alouin said,” I said. “Should I be worried about it?”

Taking a chance, I glanced up at my friend, only to find him indulgently eyeing me.

With a chuckle, he said, “Doubtful.”

And he was gone. Alone for the first time since waking up, I chewed on the inside of my lip. For most of the day, things had progressed as close to normal as I’d expected but toward the end there…

Something had been off.

“He lied.”

Crouching beside me, Dim dangled its hands over its knees, fixing its gaze on the tent’s flap.

“Who? Rhy?” I asked.

When Dim nodded, Bright clicked its tongue, tapping a finger on its crossed arms.

“I don’t think it was a lie,” it said.

When Dim rose with a snarl, Bright lifted a calming hand.

“I’m not denying that something was wrong,” it said, “just that it wasn’t as severe as a lie.”

Settling on its haunches again, Dim said, “A misdirection, maybe? A half-truth?”

“That sounds more in line with what I felt,” Bright said.

“And what I smelled,” Dim said. “Gah! What’s gone so wrong that I’m agreeing with a prissy, stuck-up like you?”

“At least it still bothers you,” Bright said.

Rolling my eyes, I interjected, “So, Rhy’s keeping something from me?”

Dim and Bright exchanged a glance.

“You’re asking us?” Bright asked. “The ones who, and I quote, ‘want something from you’?”

As I scowled at Bright, Dim almost collapsed from its perch with laughter rocking it, but eventually, it transferred its gaze my way.

“Come on, kid,” it huffed. “By now, shouldn’t you expect that everyone is keeping secrets, especially from you, oh most significant of humans?”

I play-swatted at the splinter, but I knew it was right. Limply resting my hands on my shins, I buried my stare in their palms, considering what to do. I’d almost died because I placed my trust in Dath, someone who’d been an enemy not long ago. Given that and what my splinters had said, I had to wonder.

“Can I trust Rhylix?”

Transfixed by my hands, the silent conversation taking place between my splinters nearly passed beneath my notice, but at the end of it, Dim sighed in defeat.

“What do you think, kid?” it asked.

I thought… I thought…

“Rhy is my friend,” I said.

And friends trusted one another. I had to believe that Rhylix’s secret wouldn’t hurt me.

I could easily do that, though. Trust? Loyalty? I didn’t know how I knew this, but I was good at these things.

I’d be a true friend to Rhylix, no matter what it might cost me.