Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave drifted.

All of the things that had kept him confined to a state of existence had ceased to hold him any longer. Time had ceased to flow. Space had ceased to act. He had been consumed by that abyss of his own design—perhaps this was the expected result. Then again, perhaps deep in his head, he thought he’d appear back with the fused suns, overlooking the realm he’d come to call home before eventually being called back to join it.

Griffin had claimed that having power and losing it was far more agonizing than having failed to achieve it. Having inherited his power of destruction, and having made it self-destruct, Argrave could safely say the guy was full of it. What hurt far more was coming to terms with what he might miss.

Anneliese, even if freed of her stasis, going on without him. The family they’d promised to build together, dead in infancy. Their time together living on only as memory. For neither to hear the other’s voice, feel the other’s touch ever again… Argrave felt the hurt, even like this. Would she move on? He didn’t want her to, selfish as it was. And if there was something after this, he didn’t think he could.

Elenore, left to shoulder the burden of rulership alone. He knew she would be strong, would be loved… but Argrave didn’t want her to endure a frigid wasteland without warmth. She had Durran, and Argrave knew he could trust him, yet still felt she deserved far more. He wished to show her as many years of happiness as she had endured in misery. He didn’t want to be a shadow over her head—a brother she’d sent to death.

Orion, left to contend with his issues alone. If Argrave knew his brother, he would never cease blaming himself for what had happened. No matter how irrational, he would view it as his own failure. The man was just beginning to come into his own—with people, with family, and with life. Argrave didn’t want to be a setback.

Galamon, isolated after his disillusionment with his own people. His family would keep him going, but Argrave wished he could’ve helped him find a place for himself outside of being a Veidimen, outside of his crusade for his people.

Durran, carving a path for his people on his lonesome. Perhaps those of the kingdom of Vasquer and the Burnt Desert would come to accept one another… but Argrave felt certain he could make it happen, assisting his friend.

Raven, his purpose finished after the end of the cycle of judgment. There would always be a place for him, a use for him. But could he ever be truly happy? Argrave had intended to try.

And Sophia. So many promises broken. That he’d always be there. That he’d never make her sad. That he’d watch her grow up until she didn’t need him anymore, and then interfere in her love life with spurious concerns just like any father ought to. He didn’t want her to cry, not even for him. He didn’t want her grief.

Others might mourn, but not as deeply as those. There was so much he wanted to see, things he wished to do. What the hell were they going to do after what had happened? Would Dario and Melanie stop tiptoeing about and get together? Would Nikoletta and her cat have a happy ending? How would House Parbon fare? Would the southron elves have a resurgence? What would happen to the dwarves, the gods, the dragons, the magic in the world? What had happened in the Great Chu?

There was so much he wanted to see. There was history to become a part of. There were buildings still yet to build, roads still yet to pave, a continent still yet to be restored. There were aggrieved to bring justice to, fractured peoples to bring with unity, and a war-ravaged world to heal.

There was still a life that Argrave had yet to live. A full, honest life, with all of its complicated problems and simple joys.

First, he’d been torn from Earth at the point where his life begins. Denied the opportunity to make something of himself there, he’d been thrust into this place. Despite that, despite everything, he’d done the best job he could. He didn’t falter, didn’t break. He made it to the end.

And now, at the end of that long road, just when things might trend upward, he was being torn away again?

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He didn’t care if there was a heaven on the other side, a world of bliss and total peace. He didn’t care if a hell, bleak and lonesome as his life had ever been, awaited him. The world was overdue to grant him some damned compensation.

Argrave wanted to live.

Argrave didn’t want to die.

In response to his primal, soulful desires, Argrave felt a spark running through him. The firmament of his being craned with the intensity of that desire, fighting against this homogeneous mire it’d been subsumed into. The next moment, it consumed all of him. He raged against his fate, his thrashing will battering against the dictates of the universe.

Then, he felt a subtle touch tracing his form. A warm touch. He showed it his existence as best he could, driving toward that warmth with every last drop of his being… until, finally, it sought him out on its own. He felt a hand grasp his, pulling, prying, with urgent and forceful intensity. In that warm grasp, Argrave went limp. He knew it would be strong enough to pull him all on its own.

The next moments were a jarring blur. Time came back into being, and shortly after, space. He could feel who he was being pried from some horrible darkness by a force that stubbornly refused to surrender him. He could feel entire universes shifting to hold him down, keep him steady—not by malice, but by force of reality.

As Argrave was pried backward, scattered fragments of himself were drawn back in to himself as though he were a magnet. All of the broken pieces of himself began to reform, reshape, precisely as they had been. All of it converged, compelled by forces with the strength to deny and defy reality.

In time, Argrave passed by what felt like a barrier. He felt an alarmingly familiar force peering into this barrier—the Heralds, ever-watching, ever-prying. But as he passed, this barrier slammed shut, leaving only the echoes of their still-anguished howls. And when the last bit of their despair faded from his hearing…

Argrave felt a familiar force in his body, moving constantly. It compelled him to open his eyes.

Staring back at Argrave were tender amber eyes, half-hidden by messy white hair. He studied Anneliese, whose face still bore drowsiness. Between them were their left hands, tightly entwined. Before he could even ask the question, her eyes blinked and her hand gripped tighter, demonstrating that stasis claimed her no longer.

“Welcome back,” said Anneliese.

For a long moment of reflection, silence was the only thing Argrave felt. He grappled with that terror, that sheer force of being. It had left an indelible mark on his mind, seeing things he ought not be privy to. He was as dead as anyone could be. He was gone from this world. But…

“You pulled me from the brink,” Argrave said with conviction, a fact which Anneliese confirmed with a nod. “How? That place… I was more than dead. I was lost. I might as well have been back in Earth, I was so damned far. Finding me, let alone bringing me back…”

“It was simple. I only searched for an eternity,” she said with a smile. “A mere eternity was a small price to pay for us to enjoy our own together.”

As Argrave realized death was not his fate, tears dripped down his face unbidden. He was embarrassed, but became markedly less so when Anneliese joined him, her face twisted by a sob. He pulled her in, relishing in her warmth, her kind touch, their very existence together. They cried of relief, of happiness, of anticipation of all the days left to them. And they cried of sadness, anguish, and fear, remembering all that they’d lost and seen in their effort to end the cycle of judgment.

It was only after many minutes did Argrave remember the fact that there was a world beyond Anneliese. When he looked around, he realized they were in a tent. Magic still persisted, despite his expectations—its steady hum resounded within his body. He couldn’t hear anything, which was unnerving. They wore clothes—unfamiliar clothes, the both of them. Simple white gowns.

“What’s happened?” Argrave asked her. “I feel our artifacts, our connection. There’s magic, too. We… we didn’t… Gerechtigkeit is gone, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know.” Anneliese fixed her messy hair. “My [Truesight] is gone. The Spark of Eternity, as well. I think… I think I felt Sophia doing something with it, but…” She rose to her feet, then staggered and fell atop Argrave.

“Feeling weak?” When she nodded, Argrave stood, bringing her up with him. He did feel a little heavy, lethargic, but he’d felt the same way after being revived last time. He set her down, helping to get her bearings.

“I want to figure out what happened,” Anneliese said, leaning on his arm. “Can we go?”NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“I’m slightly intrigued on that point myself.” Together, they slowly walked toward the tent’s flap. “Shall we?”

When Anneliese nodded, he pushed at the tent’s exit, feeling both eagerness and tremendous apprehension at what had become of the world.

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