Chapter Text
Safiya
In so many ways the academy is as I left it. It almost seems wrong, with how much has happened in the time since. The bloodstains, at least, are new. The people are not.
Old Master Djafi, who knows me too well, immediately detects the thread of ambiguous tension between myself and Hazel and plucks on it.
"I could tell you embarrassing stories about her," he offers to Hazel.
"You could," I manage to grind out. "But then I'd have to kill you. Both of you. With acid. And leeches."
Hazel's eyes flick to me, and from that half-second glance I already know it's too late to protest.
"Embarrassing stories!"
"Hazel, Master Djafi...this really isn't the time for—"
"Oh, don't worry about it so much, Safiya. My stories about you aren't anything to be ashamed of. Why, when this one was a little girl..."
The fondness in Hazel's eyes as she listens to Djafi tell her about my first tattoo almost makes the indignity worth it. Almost. Then I see the sparkle in her big green eyes and I forget that I was annoyed with her at all.
"I think a homunculus is a great choice. I'd have liked to see what that version would look like on you."
She doesn't know that I do have that design inked upon my skin, though it is hidden beneath my robes. Heat rises in me at the thought of showing it to her.
"Yes. Well. Thank you. Nothing says you're climbing the mountain of individuality and self-expression like a tattoo of a dragon."
To distract from the red flush I can feel rising up the sides of my neck, I ask her what kind of tattoo she would choose for herself.
"A wolverine. Okku says they're too dumb to know when a fight's too big for them to win."
She replies without hesitation or embellishment, her beaming smile coming right from the core of her being. It’s a window into who she truly is, distilled and refined, and though she was only answering a silly question, I feel like I have been given a gift.
A discontented rumble emits from the ancient bear spirit. "Those were not my exact words."
"Small and fearless," I say. "Yes...it suits you."
And now it is her turn to blush and look away.
Gann lets out a mockingly exaggerated, dreamy sigh. “I did not realise I had stumbled into a production of Springtime for Dreaming Maidens. Will you next exchange bracelets of red cord entwined? I do love that part. Or will it be breathless vows of—”
Kaelyn swats him with her wing, a quiet admonishment of “Do not be so indelicate,” spoken under her breath, but the moment is broken.
Which is for the best, really.
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “If you’re all quite finished. Hazel, Djafi—we came here for a reason.”
It certainly wasn’t to gush over each other like a couple of moony initiates...even if does make a welcome reprieve from the ache that comes with my return to this place.
In short order we find the other, less-welcome familiar face of Master Inarus.
The way his eyes move over each of us in turn: Hazel, Kaelyn, myself—is as unpleasant as it is routine. His gaze leaves a greasy, crawling sensation down the back of my neck as it passes. Though by Thayan standards he is as reliable as rain on Midsummer’s day, I still do not look forward our interactions.
"Safiya!" he exclaims. "It is always such a deep pleasure to have you in my classroom."
As he speaks I notice, from the corner of my eye, the way Hazel's hand tightens on the grip of her sword. The motion is so brief I could have almost imagined it. Likewise, the hint of tension at the corner of her otherwise neutral expression—faint, invisible if I wasn’t paying close attention.
But I see it.
It is odd for Hazel to be here, in this place that was my home. The past and present woven together. A vision of another life. I watch as she navigates the macabre archive that is the soul repository and I wonder what it might have been like to know her sooner.
I idly toy with different scenarios, possible timelines; each one a way that Hazel might have found a place in academy life—in my life.
I imagine her a fellow initiate, the friction of our rivalry providing a spark, a wholly different kind of heat. I could see her as a guard, stoic and protective, but when away from our typical roles she would show a hidden, softer side, only for me. Or she might have been a servant—I would order her to draw a bath for me, but once I disrobe I would catch her staring, unable to look away—and then I would suggest that she join me...
These flirtations with fantasy stir a playful, giddy hunger that is so out of place with the life I have lived until now. It does not fit what I had come to expect for myself. It makes little sense that in the midst of all this pain and hardship that I would feel this pull, this spark of attraction. Despite the danger, the warmth and safety I feel now, with Hazel, makes a stark contrast to the previous years spent in a solitary pursuit of knowledge.
Nefris’ study is empty and ransacked. I take it in, the absence of her presence acute. My stomach lurches as if I had taken a step onto a missing stair, and am now tipping into the void.
With each passing minute as we search through the scattered remnants of her notes for clues, I know with greater certainty that this place isn’t home anymore.
Hazel nudges my hip with her shoulder in a now-familiar gesture of reassurance, asking a question with her eyes.
My heart aches.
When this is over and she is free of the curse, I think...I want to see more of the world. I don’t know where, exactly. Toril, the planes—maybe beyond. I only know I’m not ready for our time together to be over.
Hazel
I press the soul stone into Ammon Jerro's chest and watch as the colour returns to his features.
It's almost funny. For so long I hated him—would have liked nothing better than to see him laid out, cold and lifeless. Even at the end, when I better understood what kind of man he was—knew why he chose to do what he did—I wouldn't have described him as anything more than a begrudging ally. And yet, I didn't hesitate to barter two souls away to a devil in exchange for his. I guess the relief at knowing that at least some of my old companions might have made it out was enough to momentarily forgive our history.
His eyes open, I see them come to focus as he reorients himself to the living world.
"Hazel..." he says. "Where?"
Thay, I tell him. An infirmary for the soulless.
"Why are you here?"
Terse as ever. I shrug. "I'm cursed."
Beneath the dim glow of the infirmary mage-light the lines of his face run especially deep.
"Then...I failed."
With a stone in the pit of my stomach, I ask the question I've been dreading since the moment I first woke up in the barrow alone.
I learn what I need. What I always knew. He sinks back into the straw mattress, an old man surrounded by hollow shells. There's nothing left for me here.
I leave.
One of the components that will open Nefris’ inner sanctum involves a mechanism that is triggered by a series of lights and mirrors. I walk the hallways in a light-headed daze, not feeling much beyond a distant and driving need to simply get it done.
A familiar hand lights on my shoulder; the pressure of her long, elegant olive-toned fingers piercing through the fog. When I look up Safiya's smile is one of understanding.
“That man—you knew him from...before.”
I nod. I hear the question in her voice. An offer of support, without the pressure to respond. Her grace is appreciated, more so than I can express.
"We...we were enemies, once. What feels like...a long time ago, now. We fought at the centre of his lair—it was a brutal battle. And even after, when he lost and was deprived of the core of his power, and we were forced to work together...he was still a formidable force. I—"
My throat hurts. I can't—I have to swallow to loosen the tension enough to speak.
"...heh. For your mother to have so completely overpowered him—well. I can see it. If she was anything like you, she must have been brilliant."
Safiya raises a brow. "I'll tell you the same thing I tell my students: naked flattery will not get you a better grade."
“Such a stern instructor. Then what will get me your approval?”
She looks at me for a moment, and I wonder if she’ll press past my obvious deflection—but then she looks away, turning to the mirror I’m lining up.
“Solving this puzzle so we can finally get some answers would be an excellent first step.”
Once the mirrors have been aligned (and I've taken some of my frustration out on a bookshelf foolish enough to bar our progress) the activation of the mechanism is simple enough. Safiya stands on the platform and Kaelyn triggers the device with the smallest pulse of magical energy through the trigger. A beam of rainbow light flashes from the platform, to the mirror, and down the hall, out of sight. There's nothing left to do but follow and see if we have what we need.
"And let this be the last of it," Okku grumbles. "I tire of these wizard's tricks."
Waiting at the other end of the beam, standing on the platform, is a flickering image—a person. I blink as it comes into focus. Is that...Safiya? Or is it the woman in red from my visions?
I am all that remains of a memory of a love thought lost, she had said to me.
Safiya steps up to the platform—
“Mother...?”
The image gutters and vanishes. Left in its’ place is a glass sphere, its surface swirling like a pearl of grey silt. I pick it up, placing it in my pack. When I look back to Safiya I see the shadows beneath her eyes, see the toll of the last few weeks.
I make a decision.
“It’s been a long day. Gann? You’re running low on spells, right?”
“I—” He glances between myself and Safiya. “Yes, of course. These long hours of academic tedium are a drain on my beauty and vitality. Perhaps a rest is in order?”
“Perhaps. Safiya?”
She blinks. Looks to me. “Yes?”
“Is there somewhere we can stay for the night?”
Mounds of raw materials and discarded prototypes pile up in the corners. Sheaths of loose paper, covered in scrawled notes and dense theorems, form drifts that cover the surface of a desk and spill down onto the floor around it like autumn leaves. I sit on the edge of Safiya's bed and take in the details of her life before today.
Safiya moves around the edges of the space, examining the door and window frames. She occasionally mutters incantations that spark and pop in the air just outside the edge of hearing.
"There," she says, finally, straightening up. "I'm confident that the wards I placed remain intact and are free from outside tampering."
"Then we're safe?"
"As safe as one can possibly be...at the heart of a Thayan academy in the midst of a hostile takeover."
She brushes her fingertips along the side of her neck, glancing back to the door.
"This place was was peaceful retreat when my fellow instructors grew...too much." She grimaces. "Which was often. The wards have remained secure for many years. They should hold another night."
"...Good."
The word leaves with most of the air in my lungs, as well as the tension that was keeping me upright. It's been so long since I haven't had to worry about setting watch. I feel the siren call of the soft blanket beneath me, and all I want to do is lie down and surrender to it.
"Hazel." Safiya twists and untwists her fingers, then stops, threading them together. "How are you...holding up?"
Her eyes lower to my chest, and the scar there throbs in memory of a distant pain.
"I'm all right. The curse is satiated. I'm just...tired."
I should move—this is Safiya's bed, after all. Gann’s in the bathing chamber, and from the one corner free of debris comes Okku’s rumbling snores.
"Sorry. I'll move in a moment, I promise." Maybe I’ll set up my bedroll in the study with Kaelyn?
"No, it's--"
She shifts her weight from one foot the other. Then she takes a hesitant step closer. Slowly, she sits beside me. As if it were her intruding into my space, and not the other way around.
As she settles, the dip in the mattress tips me to the side and my head comes to rest against her arm. Her skin is smooth beneath my cheek; the contact is like a bowl of warm soup on a cold night, like coming home. It's all I could want.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to move away, to flinch, to show any sign of discomfort at the contact. Instead she lets out a quiet sigh that slips beneath my ribs and makes a home there.
“I’m...so very sorry about your friends, Hazel. I know you were hoping for better news. This must be...I can't imagine."
I nod. "Yeah."
Ammon told me everything that he saw before he dove through the shadow portal after me.
About Elanee. Casavir. Grobnar. Qara.
Amie.
Shandra.
The pain of their loss is corrosive; with each name, it eats away at my insides. I'm so much less of myself now than I was before I walked into this room, before Ammon's sanctum, before the attack on West Harbor. There is no replacing a person. A friend. How much more can I lose before I become like the curse inside me—more nothing than something? A void that can never be filled.
Guilt presses upon me. Part of me feels like it should be me comforting her right now. But...she was the one to take the first step. I just have to trust that...she really does want to be there for me, as much as I want to be there for her.
I’ve told Safiya much of my time before arriving in Rasheman, but she's far too sharp not to have noticed the absences in those stories, missing pieces where a person should be.
It hurts to speak of them. It hurts to hold back. I tried, earlier...but, like a coward, I pulled away from her unspoken question; deflected with a humour, like usual.
I...want her to know me. I want to be able to share these burdens of pain. I may not be the brightest candle in the cathedral, but I'd like to think I can learn from my mistakes.
I don't have to do this alone.
It takes me a moment to find the words. “We all knew what we were getting into. Or—I think so. Gods, I hope so. Grobnar’s grasp on reality was always a little—anyway. It was like nothing else, our fight against the King of Shadows. I was there, and I still can't really comprehend it. But we won! We...we won. And when it was over—”
When I close my eyes I remember the way the stone of the walls and ceilings cracked, the sour animal fear in my stomach as it all came down around us. There are some things no-one can fight.
“I knew the odds of getting out weren't good, for anyone. If Bishop, who'd had a head start before the battle even started hadn't managed to escape the temple's collapse, then what hope was there for those who stayed 'til the end? But even still...we’d all been through so many close calls to get to that point. I’d thought—if anyone could've made it out of there, it would be that bunch of crazies.”
I feel Safiya shift beside me, and then her arm is around me, draped over my back, gently clasping me by the shoulder. She exerts a gentle pressure, pulling me deeper into her, and I don't fight it.
"You saved everyone, Hazel. You, and your companions. If the magics that were at work in that thing were not stopped, it would have been...an unimaginable tragedy. I'm sure your friends knew those stakes. They knew what they were getting into, you said as much..."
"Yeah."
"Do...you blame yourself?"
“Of course.”
“Why? Explain to me.”
It seems obvious—but I’ve learned from our magic lessons together that Safiya uses this tone when she wants me to take my time and explain what I’m thinking.
"I was the one leading them. But...it feels wrong, that it was me. I...I'm not that kind of leader. I'm the one who—because of a big cosmic joke I'll never understand—ended up with a piece of a sword inside me. My friends are followed me into battle with the ghost of a dead empire. They were looking to me to know what to do. But I don't know things, I just fight well. I fought well enough not to die, and then did it again, and again, and then the lord of Neverwinter is giving me a castle and the lives of a thousand people to govern...but without the shard of a silver sword inside me, what am I? A knee-high nobody peasant girl with big ears and a bigger mouth. I'm not special. I'm just the sap who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I can't help but think that if someone else had been the one to be there, that my friends would still be alive. That..."
A gentle squeeze across my shoulders breaks me from my spiral.
“That doesn’t seem fair, Hazel. If another had taken your place, they might have done much worse. We could all be dead. Our lives can take...unexpected directions. I’m certain you did what you thought was best.”
Did I? I thought so at the time, but…
“That doesn’t mean my best can’t make someone’s life worse—or get them killed.”
Safiya hesitates. I nudge her arm with my head.
“You can say what you’re thinking.”
“I know, but I—” She closes her eyes. “Do you truly think that your companions would blame you?”
I think of Qara, and cough out a damp chuckle. “Some of them, maybe.”
But even then, she’d been the most eager to be there. Elanee and Casavir too—they believed in what we were doing.
“Maybe it isn’t about blame. That man I spoke to in the infirmary—his grandaughter...her name was...Shandra. She was the one I…”
My throat closes up. I shake my head, willing the tears away. I need to be able to speak. “The town I grew up in—it’s gone. Burned, in the war. My best friend from childhood, Amie...killed in the first attack.”
I feel Safiya’s thumb, brushing over my cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks.
"I just...I miss them. It hurts."
It's surprising to me how unnerving it is for me to admit that I'm in pain. After a lifetime of smiling and soldiering through it, this feels oddly vulnerable. Intimate.
"Hazel...you're shivering."
I didn't realise. "I'm...afraid."
Safiya gives an encouraging hmm.
"I’m afraid, because...it could happen again. I could lose someone—lose you—but I’m not brave enough to do this alone.”
“Hazel," She tuts. "You know you can trust that we know well enough where we want to be, yes? We know the danger, and we choose to be here with you, regardless. Unless you mean to imply that I am unable to make my own assessment of the situation, and come to a conclusion.”
I laugh. “Not...deliberately.”
"I am here because I want to be. I choose to be here, with you."
“There’s...there’s no arguing with you when you use your teacher voice.”
Safiya chuckles. “I'm glad you've learned that much.” And then, softer: “And...I’m sorry for your pain.”
Maybe that’s all I need. I sink into her side, and she envelopes me with her other arm. We stay that way for a while.
But the fear remains. I pull myself from her embrace, pushing myself up, and she lets out a quiet murmur of protest. I stand—we're at eye level now—and take her face in my hands.
"Safiya...you have to stay safe. Promise me. I've lost too many I...care for."
"I...don't know if I can promise that."
"Please."
"Only if you can promise me the same."
I want to protest, to argue that it would be worth it to die if it means she would be safe, but then she sighs, her eyes dropping to the side. "You aren't the only one who knows what it's like to lose someone important."
I swallow my arguments. "Then...I promise."
"Good." She closes her eyes relaxes, her face sinking into my hands. The feeling of rightness that fills me is like the closing of an old wound.
She chuckles, and then winces, groaning.
"These last few weeks...I've never walked so far. My feet are killing me."
I laugh. "You poor thing. Here."
I pull her face toward me until she comes to rest against my chest. "There's a lot of world to cover outside of these academy walls. You've done well."
I feel her smile into my shoulder. "Is this the famed discipline of the Knight-Captain of Neverwinter?"
"Even the harshest Thayan instructor needs a place she can rest, right?"
Her pleasant hmmmm vibrates into my chest. All at once I'm aware that this amazing, gorgeous woman has her face tucked into the crook of my shoulder, feeling her breath on my neck. My nipples harden, pressing against the fabric of my tunic, and I feel my chest turning red.
Can she feel my body's reaction to her? Gods, I hope not. I should be focused on comforting her—but I can't un-notice where we are. The scent of her skin. The way every part of me yearns for her to pull me closer, to say: 'I feel it too.'
I need a distraction. I clear my throat and swallow, trying to get some moisture into my suddenly dry mouth.
"Y-your tattoo," I say, latching onto the first thing my eyes land on. "I've never seen it so close. Or from this angle."
"Yes. I can see how looking down on another would be a...rare occurrence for you."
"Wow. A crack about my height. And here I thought you'd be above such things." She groans, and I giggle. "Typical human."
"Is that such a bad thing?" She leans back from me. Her smile is sleepy and soft, and it takes my breath away. "You seem awfully fond of us humans."
"S'pose some of you are alright."
She hums, dissatisfied. “I wonder...”
I duck my head and press my lips to her forehead. A tremor runs through her, and I realise what I'm doing.
"Sorry, I—"
I go to pull away but a hand at my back stops my retreat.
"Hazel..."
She pulls back, just enough that we're once again at eye level. The shadows beneath her eyes contrast the rosy tinge that covers her golden skin. She opens her mouth, halting, then closing it.
"I—Should I leave?" I whisper. My heart is thudding like a horse's hooves, the thought that I've overstepped, ruined this—us—is more terrifying than any dragon. I let my hand slip from her face.
She catches it, holds it tightly. Looks from my hand to my face and back. Closes her eyes.
"No. Don’t."
She brings my hand to her cheek, presses into it. When she opens her eyes they are dark, the colour of her iris intensified; I'm held in place, can’t look away. She leans in, closer, closer; I close my eyes, I feel her breath on my lips. And then—
—her lips are on mine. It's the softest, gentlest of contact. I am suffused with light. She slows, not enough to break contact, and I follow, taking her bottom lip between mine and then releasing it.
We move apart, but not too far. I'm burning up—must be pink all over. Her smile is equal parts pleased, and shy. She leans backward, falling into the bed. She reaches up, running her thumb over my bottom lip, and then tracing the circles under my eyes.
"Stay."
I nod. Take her hand.
Yes. Yes.
Still clothed, we crawl under the covers. She curls around me, I fit into the hollow of her chest, her chin rests on the crown of my head. I feel her breathing. I close my eyes.
And for the first time in months, I sleep undisturbed by dreams.
Safiya
One might think that after conversing with the bones of a dead god, floating amidst the star clouds of the astral sea, that nothing would be able to surprise me—but if so, one would be wrong.
I’ve never been here, and yet I know this place. Beneath a century’s worth of dust and mould I recognise the stonework of the academy. A lifetime’s worth of rumours that I had dismissed as mere ghost stories traded between frivolous initiates have proven to be true: there is a maze beneath the academy, and here, still living at its’ heart, is its’ Founder.
Araman, the interloper, bars the way to the inner sanctum. A true understanding of his motives still eludes me. I know that he was driven by more than the typical Thayvian power-play, and that he has a connection to Hazel—though now I suspect his connection is to the man who became the spirit-eater. It’s like the puzzles I would put together as a child with Master Djafi—the outer edges have been assembled, but the true image remains an unsorted mess of disparate pieces.
That Araman now stands between us and answers is least of the reasons that I will not hesitate to scour his pustule-like form from the face of Toril.
“Ah,” he says, as Hazel steps forward. “Though the face has changed, I would know that expression anywhere. My brother is still undoubtedly within you.”
Hazel, her hand on the hilt of her blade, glances back at me before turning back to Araman. “You walked away once before. Not what I would have expected from a murderer.”
“Faith and family are the strongest forces in the universe. Stronger than friendship...purer than love. But I must choose, now, and my god has spoken. Forgive me, for what I must do here...but there is no other way, and Akachi’s sin must be washed clean. My fight was never with you—only the red woman.”
Then what of Nefris? Of Lienna? I feel as though I am on the edge solving a riddle, an equation—the pieces are almost all in place.
“You...are the brother who laughs. And the woman in red, the one I’ve seen in my dreams...she has a connection to Safiya...doesn’t she?”
Though Hazel speaks with uncertainty, her conclusion half-formed, I feel a sensation of tilting inside me, the world shifting off-balance. The voices in my mind buzz like ants.
“No, I say. “Don’t go there, Hazel. It’s a mistake. Nothing...nothing good can come of it.”
Araman’s eyes widen and he looks at me. It’s as if he is truly seeing me for the first time. “The daughter...? I had thought there were only two, but then that would mean…”
He almost smiles, and the image of a ruddy-faced child, so shy and familiar, flickers in my memory.
“Clever girl.”
And then the smile is gone, and his mouth is the grim line of a drawn blade. “She has made a pawn of you, brother, and I cannot allow you to once again walk the path she has prepared. I will send the red woman back to the wall, or I will die, and go to my judgement with a clear heart.”
There is a spark of steel. A bolt singes the air. The storm breaks, and when the body that was Araman crumples to the stones, I know my mother has been avenged.
As I stand over him, Hazel comes to stand by my side. She nudges my hip with her shoulder. I think I manage a brief smile. Even though he is dead, I know this is not yet over.
I hold my breath as we pass through the door to the inner sanctum. I blink at the image before me; one both familiar and forgotten. The soul repositories from my dreams. Homunculi servants whose designs I thought only existed in my notes. At the heart of it all waits a woman in red robes.
Her face is familiar, but so much older than the one I know. There are subtle distinctions in how she holds herself, in the way her eyes flick to me, to the others, and to Hazel.
"At last," she says, approaching with halting, but sure steps. "Here you are."
"Mother?"
It can’t be her. But who else could she be?
An image of Nefris helping me with my studies flashes over this woman, so like her, and so not.“Come, Safiya, you have the answer. Tell me what you know, and then we shall piece together what it means.”
"I thought you were dead, so how—” I shake my head. “You look so much like her, and yet you're—"
"Aged beyond measure? A decrepit old husk? No...I am not the woman you remember as your mother—nor am I your mother in the way you have believed me to be."
I hear what she says, and what she does not.
True scepticism is not a reflexive denial of any theory that does not fit the world as one sees it. It is found through lifelong interrogation of the facts. Why does this thing exist as it does? What does this new information mean to truths previously thought immutable? There will always exist the possibility that one day, when the proof is all there, you will simply have to accept that something you previously thought utterly ludicrous is not only possible...but undeniably true.
It begins in a series of trickles—recollected fragments, old questions with incomplete answers, the soul repository, snippets of over-heard experiments.
My lifelong feeling of being less than a complete whole.
The mirror image of Nefris, Master Djafi had said.
I remember Hazel telling me of her vision Nefris, and Lienna—so similar as to be twins—and another woman in red that shares my face.
What a shattered thing you have become, Mrykul had said.
I taste sugar crumbs on my lips. You seem sorta...familiar. Like I’ve known you for a long time.
I thought there were only two…
They build upon one another, coalescing, cascading, picking up force until nothing can stop it and the dam bursts.
As the answer forms within my mind the woman in red nods, as if we share a certainty borne of truth: that here, face to face, we are so close that the barriers between us have become porous, and traversable. Our thoughts are shared. One.
"The voices...I understand it now. You, and I, and my mother...we're all apart of the same person—the same soul."
"Yes, Safiya. My sweet daughter. You were all that was best in me. Everything that Akachi loved, that he sacrificed himself to save—it lives on in you."
Her sigh is wistful, even as her tone becomes grim. "Of all the things I have done, the harm I have caused in my quest to save him, you are blameless, child. Innocent. You began as part of me, true, but now you are so much more. You have become your own woman. To see it...has been one of the great joys of my life."
“Then, the woman I knew as my mother, Nefris...was you? Or rather, us? All along?”
I see it now, in the way she tilts her head, her gaze equal parts appraising and fond—how Nefris used to look at me.
"I will tell you all you wish to know. But first, let me just greet..."
"Of course. All in good time." I gesture to Hazel, who moves to my side. “This is...”
I feel an odd shyness as The Founder looks over my beloved halfling. If I am right, then there is a part of Hazel that had a connection with this woman, my other self. And, simultaneously, this is likely the closest I could get to bringing someone...special back to meet my parents.
“Ah,” The Founder says. “My Akachi. Look at the two of us. Me, hundreds of years old, more like a hag than the woman you would remember. And you...you wear the skin of a lady.”
She laughs, bitter and sad and sweet, and I feel her loss against the jagged edges of my soul.
“What a pair we are, my love.”
Her hand moves, as if to reach for Hazel before halting, returning to her side.
“I must be hideous to you...to him. So many years. If anything remained of my beloved beyond his present form he would turn away from me in disgust.”
Hazel approaches The Founder, holds out her hand. I cannot see her face from this angle, but I know that subtle tilt of her head, know that her smile is kind, and gentle, and warm. She takes the older woman’s hand and briefly squeezes it before letting go.
“I don’t know if that’s true. I think...I think he’d just be happy to see you again.” Hazel glances back at me. “I know I would, in his position.”
“You are kind so say so, but...my Akachi is truly gone. Reduced to a seething hunger...and the fault is mine. I was the one he went to war against the gods to save, to tear from the wall. It was for my sake that Myrkul punished him, dissolving all that he was until all that was left was an all-devouring curse.”
Hazel’s brow furrow, considering. I wish I could ask what she’s thinking, but The Founder keeps going.
“If he was here I would tell him...I have never rested since that day. This Academy—all you’ve seen here—all this was for him. I cannot bring him back. But I can end the curse, end his punishment. You have given me that chance.”
Hazel flinches away from the steel in The Founder’s voice. “Then...the reason I have the curse to begin with...you.”
“Yes.”
A hollow pit opens in my stomach. Hazel’s face turns pale.
“You used me—manipulated me! Turned me into a—”
“I did place you in that barrow, yes. Tore the shard of the Githyanki sword from your chest, and let the monster that was my beloved take its’ place. Am I proud of what I have done? No. But it was necessary.”
“Was it?” Hazel voice is taught, the skin around her eyes pinched. “Why did you do this to me? What could possibly justify any of this?”
“I think I understand.” An uncanny clarity settles over me. One after the other, questions are met with answers. A lifetime’s worth of mysteries toppling like domino tiles.
“The soul research...the equation my mother—the one I knew as my mother—was trying to solve for all those years...this is what it was about. A way to recombine a broken soul. A way to heal Akachi.”
The Founder’s stare is equal parts sharp, and proud.
“Correct. I believe the dead god spoke to you of the punishment he inflicted upon Akachi? Your soul, now, has taken his place within the Wall of the Faithless. The conclusion of our research was that there will never be a way for Akachi’s soul to exist as it once did, before. There isn’t enough left of him after his time in the Wall. But if you, stranger, were to reclaim your own soul, take it back into yourself—”
“…it would allow him to finally disperse, peacefully.”
“A life for a life.” Hazel shakes her head. “My life.”
“I chose you because of your connection to the silver sword. It made you Akachi’s true successor, more than any of the other hosts before you. It has tied you to him, made you better at controlling the curse...but if you had failed, then I would find another, and another. I would sacrifice a thousand like you, if that’s what it takes to save him. I would face the wall itself, once I knew he was freed—but not before.”
A chill creeps over me. This person, who speaks so coldly about the harm she is willing to inflict, is a part of me. We share a soul.
“I have deceived you...relied on your own self-preservation to end my lover’s curse...done evil for his sake...yes.”
I think of all those times Nefris dismissed my questions. That all this time, the person I trusted most kept me in darkness—the betrayal stings.
“You lied me, as well. You never told me the truth. Not about who I am, and not about the one you sent me to find. You merely said—”
“I said that this woman’s life was worth more to me than all the lives in all the planes. That you should treat this stranger—”
“As if she was as dear to me as you. As if...I loved her.”
I remember now, upon hearing those instructions, how implausible I found them, then. When I look at Hazel now—she meets my gaze, her eyes wide, cheeks pinking—and my heart picks up speed, I know that there is no ‘if’.
I...love her.
“I never lied to you, Safiya. You didn’t understand my words then—”
“Not then. But now…”
She simply nods, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. Maybe she does. How much of me is her, and how much of her is me?
“And you, stranger, who have suffered so much for the sake of so much for the sake of a love you never knew...you must think me a monster.”
I see the white of Hazel’s knuckles as she grips the pommel of her sword. I wonder what I will do if she draws it. We hurt her. We did it for love. I hold my breath.
Hazel sighs, and sags. Her hand slips to her side.
“What you’ve done is—it is monstrous. And yet...I don’t know if I can really blame you. I know what it feels like to lose the one you love, and I think...if our positions were reversed I would do anything, anything to see her—if nothing else...at peace.”
“Then you understand. What do good or evil matter in the face of love?”
Hazel lets out a wan chuckle, and shakes her head. “I think I’ve had this conversation before.”
She looks to me, and I think of the hills beyond Coveya Kurg'annis.
“You chose love, then. I remember.” I say. “Over gods, over oaths.”
She rubs the back of her neck. “And I...I guess I choose it now.”
“Even though she manipulated you, used you, and yet...I didn’t think anyone could forgive such an act.”
Hazel offers me a crooked smile. “This brilliant woman I know once told me that to the gods, our devotion is grist for the mill. But to another person…”
I remember. “...Love is what turns the wheel.”
I can’t resist smirking. “You do realise that this is as good as an admission that I was correct.”
“You say that now. But I have faith that one day you’ll see the light.”
The Founder’s sigh is wistful. “You really do remind me of him. I know you aren’t the same person, but...look after my Safiya.”
She walks up to me, her impish familiar flapping behind her shoulder. In so many ways it is like looking into a mirror. She takes my hand.
“Nefris is not gone, Safiya. She has returned to the whole, and is a part of me. She loved you dearly...as I do. I could not be more proud of the person you have become.”
She gestures to the portal that will lead us back to The Veil.
“Go then...carry my hopes with you. Love is stronger than any justice meted out by a mad god. Let that be Myrkul’s legacy—that in the end, his cruelty broke before a mortal’s resolve.”
We step through, into the familiar reflection of the theatre’s backstage.
“So,” Hazel looks up at me. “Only one place left to go.”
She says it so simply. The forces against us will be tremendous—and yet, for all my scoffing at faith before, I know like I know the laws of arcane transference, that I believe in her. I believe in us. I kneel, and take her hand.
“Hazel...as much as I wish you didn’t have to go through that...The Founder was right to choose you, Hazel. And I was right to trust you. I promise you will be free of this curse. Even if the gods themselves stand against us—you have my word.”
She looks at our joined hands, briefly brushing my fingers with her lips.
“I’ll never stop being grateful, Safiya, for everything about you.”
The darkness of this place is no match for the fire that lights within me as we lock eyes. I am incandescent.
But as we walk back to the portal to the material plane, a familiar operating table freezes me in place. Though the plane of shadows leeches the colour from everything within it, the blood that stains the table is unmistakable. The fear and pain that was inflicted on Hazel there by...The Founder? Nefris?
Me?
The Founder. Myself. Akachi. Hazel. The four of us braided together like a cord. Where does one begin, and the other end?
I love Hazel. With these feelings, I now understand why someone would go to war against the heavens.
But they cast a shadow that I cannot ignore: the fear that these feelings may not be my own.