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[>>Now replaying: Log 3.16.6 - One more Dance]

Date: Error

Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head // Zephyro’s Domain

//Regardless grown,//

//It is common for addicts to relapse. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just have to try again.//

//Hatred, like time, is cyclical. It takes effort to break out of both.//

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

E3 %Not again! You said you’d tell me a story, but all you do is fight!%

“Can't you make them hurry up?” I blurted out as my anger finally returned and bludgeoned the damn fear back into its hole. As I watched the people slowly funnel into the palace, I started thumbing my Torch on and off. It made for a satisfying rhythm.

Click… whoosh… Click… silence… Click… whoosh…

“I doubt it, Sultana,” the vizier replied. He, too was looking at the crowd. Worry lined the set of his shoulders, and he was thumbing the pommel of his blade.

“I have given my most trusted lieutenants all the authority they need. All we can do now is cover them, while they shepherd my people to safety.”

At that moment, watching him watch his people, it took all I had to ignore the voice in my head. It urged me to take control. To tell him to shove his sympathy and just do as he was told.

There are a few things that can never be unsaid, and by some fortune, I recognized this was one of them. Saying those words would change me, not just in Zephyro’s eyes, but my own. It would make me into a person that did not care about costs.

I wasn’t like that. I was…

I didn’t want to be like this.

> Ah!

…said a goddamn memory.

> …So that’s the Sam you were hiding under all that anger…

>

> Nice to know you Sam, I’m Patti…

I turned away, breath shuddering. A bit of smoke must have gotten into my eyes because they stung like hell.

As I rapidly blinked to clear them, my eyes traveled up the massive gate, over intricate carvings and ornate wood. They rested briefly on the braziers, towering above me in silent, fiery judgment, but ultimately broke free, to lose themselves in the tiny speck of uncorrupted night shrinking directly above us.

Tears blurred my eyes, but even without seeing the stars clearly, I knew the darkness was almost done devouring them, just like it would swallow us all. It would wash over the city, and then it would—

“Sultana?” Zephyro said.

“Huh?” I muttered, rubbing my sleeves over my eyes.

“As your most humble servant, I would never presume to…” he sighed. For a moment, he was tense, but then he shook his head as if shedding all the pomp and pretense.

“Are you alright?” He asked. No honorific. Like a friend. Too close. Far too close!

“Oh, so that’s how I get you to talk to me like a person?! By crying? Do you think you need to protect me again? Do you think I’m some weakling? I can—“

I paused, gritted my teeth. That wasn’t fair, and I knew it. A tide of shame battered against what precious little rage I had left. But still, I exhaled, venting my unjust frustration.

“I’m so sorry, Zephyro, I just…”

“It is alright, Sultana. The tree that does not bend before the storm, breaks.”

It was the tone of his voice that nearly broke me. That small moment of understanding, wrapped comfortingly in but a few, quiet words of what would be a platitude, if I hadn’t come to know the Vizier as I did.

With but a handful of syllables, Zephyro had given me something I craved, but like all addicts, this tiniest hint of getting what I wanted almost made me scream.

The relief, baleful, was like blood rushing back into a limb you had long thought dead, painful beyond all soothing measure, and threatening to smother me in its comfort.

I rubbed my sleeve over my eyes again.

The tears wouldn’t stop coming.

My anger flickered in their flood.

Zephyro reached out hesitantly as if to hold me, but I shrank back.

My chest heaved.

I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t be weak. I’d just lose everything again.

The last couple of hours returned to memory unbidden, replaying in my mind’s eye over and over as my thoughts spiraled deeper into a past I could never forget.

Zephyro standing over me, beating back the Ferals.

The fear in the eyes of the citizens as ravenous monsters tore into them.

That wild expression on that boy’s face, quietly pleading for my help before he came undone, spattering his Logic, his essence across the street. All over me. Seeping into my eyes, my ears, my mouth, making me see, hear, and taste the truth.

Advance’s pinnacle, wreathed in flame as the artillery magic broke the shield, then the steel, then the glass, then the people.

All I had worked for lay in ruins.

Stax’s eyes, dancing, Lorelye’s, laughing, Patti’s, gentle, Iruli’s, shrewd… All of them, lifeless.

All my friends were gone.

I was alone.

I couldn't.

I just… couldn't.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

> What are you going to do about it, Torchbearer?

>

> Are you going to sit down again, and cry? Are you going to leave it to others to clean up your messes? Oh wait, you have no one left. They’re all dead.

>

> Except for me…

>

> Oh, and I guess the little slut that abandoned you, but… Don’t worry, Samantha… I know how much thinking about them hurts, so I won’t mention—

Chris!

Beep?

My loneliness was a comforting lie I told myself. I wasn’t alone. Chris was still there, and I needed to be there for them.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and then I straightened as best as I could. I wiped away my tears with the sleeves of my coat, and this time, my eyes stayed dry.

As much as I hated Olre for what he’d done, sometimes he was right, in his own twisted way. This was not the time to give up.

Not that he’d meant to give me a pep talk back in Novus Apex, what with my blood dripping from his goddamn knife.

But that didn’t matter now. Only the future.

Thanks, Chris. Thanks for getting me out of it.

Beep!

I gave Zephyro a polite nod of thanks, and even though he seemed to know that I couldn’t possibly be fine again, he nodded in return and returned to his vigil.

I would get through this, just like I’d gotten through all the rest. There were still people to save, and a city to protect.

Then I needed to find out what happened to me, get out of this computer, and bury the goddamn Mage Lords in the remains of their palaces.

Yeah, I needed to push.

I needed to fight.

I needed a fight.

Click, whoosh, Click, silence, Click, whoosh…

“Sultana, are you sure you don’t want to—“

There it was again. That tone of voice. I was sure I’d fold. But what to do about it? Ignore him? Yell at him? Give in? The last option was terrifying, and the first two… I didn’t want to be a person who repaid kindness with anger, but it was so tempting. Anything to avoid breaking that dam.

When I saw movement in the shadowy alleys and several Ferals emerged from it, the rush of my relief came so out of left field, it was like a punch to the gut.

As the looming threat of compassion vanished and a soothing rage blanketed my mind, one last click stopped the rhythm of fire and silence. Pharus roared, and illuminated by crackling teal flames, I faced the enemy.

“We have incoming, Zephyro,” I said. “I'm counting at least six cybernetic rats and one hyena that's made out of some sort of fog. Looks sickly green, so perhaps it’s poisonous or corrosive, or both.”

I felt Zephyro shift behind me, ready to jump into action. “I promise that no matter their form, they will be as harvest before the fall, inshallah.”

He unsheathed his sword with a satisfying hiss, and tense seconds crept by. The Ferals stayed where they were, eying us and making weird, threatening noises.

“Are they coming, Sultana?”

“No… It looks like they’re talking?”

“They are preparing, that is not good. If I might be so bold as to offer my humble advice at your feet: We should strategize as well.”

“I thought the strategy we had so far worked out well? I mark them, you kill them?”

“This is true, Sultana, but you see: while the ungodly beasts have been feasting on my people, they growing fat and slow. However, they also grew increasingly powerful. What we are seeing now is but a vanguard. The quickest ones to arrive, but also the weakest. And yet, they are already capable of strategic thinking that goes beyond mere pack mentality. Usually, you don’t see this sort of behavior in the Ferals this far down The Path. If there are more coming, and I believe there will, they will pose an increasingly significant challenge after gorging themselves on your Blessing.”

“What do you want me to do about it? Get better weapons?”

“Armor, Sultana! You need to be able to survive attacks, should I not be fast enough to defend you.”

I tilted my head in reluctant acknowledgment. He was right. I didn’t really need a better weapon with Zephyro by my side. He turned every marking strike I managed to land with Pharus, no matter how light, into a massive assault almost guaranteeing complete obliteration.

But perhaps… Killing the rats myself had been so much more efficient. So much more satisfying. That thrill of battle had been so exhilarating, and for once I didn’t have to think about the past or the future.

Just out of curiosity… How much would it cost me to upgrade Pharus?

{[Pharus, Wrath of the Torchbearer] v.06 - Electronic Warfare Suite: REQUIRES 60 LB}

And how much for Arx?

{[Arx, Saint’s Embrace] v. 0.3.5 - Network Security System}: REQUIRES 30 LB}

That wasn't so bad. I could easily afford them both.

But still… I shouldn’t be wasting a resource as important as my Wish. Ardor had cost 300 LB to advance, and with Chris still building that turret control software, it might be a good idea to keep as much Logic as possible on hand, to implement new tech in case of an emergency. And speaking of emergencies, if I needed to heal myself in a pinch, having a good buffer of Logic was important as well.

Yeah, I should probably save it.

I just had to keep cool.

Stay back, dart forward, flare Pharus…

All I needed to do beyond that was to avoid putting too much energy into my strikes. Against enemies like the wolf from earlier, even fully powered attacks would hardly do anything besides overheating my core.

No, it was important for Arx to remain online. It would keep me safe while Zephyro did the heavy lifting.

Simple, really.

But I had learned that reality was never simple. With the exception of duel fencing (and Stax would probably have debated even that) fights were never a pretty, organized choreography.

When emotions ran high, people did stupid stuff. And raw as I was from the last couple of months, I was almost defenseless against my inner demons.

But that wouldn’t matter once I was finally fighting again.

I looked at the Ferals gathering on the edge of the Plaza, still conversing in warped voices that were barely audible due to the distance.

I just itched to bring the fight to them. To secure the kill.

I was walking forward before I caught myself, and stopped.

What was I doing? Hadn’t I just said I wanted to stay back?

A sliver of ice sank into my spine.

It was at this moment, with my foot already in mid-step, that I realized that despite my best intentions, my anger would get the better of me yet again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I had lost the battle the second I let it back in, laced it into my willpower. I was sure that if I took a moment to pause and check that fraying rope in my mind, I’d find it burned to ash around that single, searing-hot thread.

Now the rage was all that held me together, and when I dared to fight it, it simply vanished, leaving me wide open.

For a brief, crystalline moment of panic-inducing clarity, memories I had ignored by sheer force of will shifted from blissful haze into terrible transparency.

> “You are a good fighter, Sam.”

>

> “Pfff! No, I am not, and you know it.”

>

> “Hahaha! True! But you could be! You just have to use your anger instead of letting it use you. Ah, Sam… then you would be unstoppable…”

>

> “I’ll show you unstoppable.”

>

> “Is that a promise, Lady Samantha?”

>

> Blue eyes dancing, a ballroom, graceful feet moving in rhythm. A trail of red silk, out the door, into the garden, where no one can see us.

>

> —

>

> Flashes of fire and the hiss of steel against steel. My pulse throbbing in my fingertips, my jaw clenched so hard it hurts... Another volley. Arrows and fireballs splash impotently against my back, but a few sneak past, sink deep into that stupidly fragile body I am trying to shield with mine. There’s a pained grunt. He doesn’t have enough life left to scream anymore. More arrows. Two quick grunts. I sink closer, try to protect him better. All for nothing. I lower my head in shame, and hear a whisper—

>

> …who is the wielder, and who is the tool, Sam?

There was that feeling again, filling my lungs like winter rain.

My breath came in short gasps.

In the rushing glacier water that was my fear, my denial broke like a wet origami flower.

I could no longer rely on my judgment.

I had fooled myself into thinking I was in control yet again.

Yes, the anger would keep me going, but it would never stop, would keep pushing me, going past what I would usually accept as reasonable, past what anyone would consider safe or sane.

And then it would demand I give in, or leave me starved.

> Go ahead, Sam. Get angry, see where it gets you. I’m out.

I remembered Chris leaving. They had come back, of course, but that look on their face when they spat those words still shook me to the core.

> Oh here we go again, Sam… Come on, you can’t keep making the same mistakes over and over! You’re better than this, fighty-girl...

I knew I’d disappointed Lorelye the most… I hadn’t been strong enough for her.

> Who do you want to be, Sam?

I didn’t want to be weak again. If I didn’t push myself, if I stopped, I would fall into the darkness of my mind again, leave everyone leaderless when they needed me the most, and then they would die.

They all died, and I was responsible.

Because I hadn’t been good enough.

The thought woke more images, memories of burning cities and contemptuous looks, dragging me deeper and deeper into a maelstrom of terror and guilt.

But then, when everything seemed lost, the rage returned in all its cruel glory and soothed my fear. It was here for me. I just needed to give in.

I hadn’t wanted any of those things, and so I couldn’t be made responsible for it. Chris, Lorelye, Stax, Patti, especially Olre, they’d all made their own choices, made their own mistakes. How could they all put this on me? It was their… I hadn’t… I didn’t… it was so goddamn unfair!

Warmth spread through my arms and legs, and my breath quickened. I wouldn’t fail again. I would do what needed to be done. I just needed to make sure I was prepared for that inevitable moment.

> Who do you want to be, Sam?

I needed to be in control, needed to lead, needed to be at the tip of the spear, so no one would have to suffer from my mistakes…

I inhaled sharply.

“No, Sultana, wait!”

I screamed a rage-fueled Wish, and the Logic obliged.