Chapter Text
He stayed with Caleb for as long as Caleb had. He watched his love fade into old age and greet death as a friend. Caleb had tried to let him go when he felt his age creeping up on him but Essek had made his choice all those years ago and he knew his place was always going to be at Caleb’s side. They had talked once, about spells that would keep them together, let them age together, but neither had felt that was the right answer. Essek wasn’t keen on the idea of tempting fate any more than he already had, and Caleb was tired. His years were enough for him and though he had lived a beautiful, full life, he knew he would be ready to rest when his time was up.
For a while, Essek could still seek comfort in some of the others with long lives and open hearts, but they faded too, until even Caduceus lay in his beloved Blooming Grove. He wandered then. Farther and wider than he had ever wanted to go before. Even now, the eyes of the Dynasty followed him. The Consecuted had long memories and he was not eager to fall into their grasp even centuries later.
In his wanderings far across the continents, he stumbled across the tale of a band of druids, high in the mountains, who rode the air and spoke to few outside of themselves. He heard tale of their headmaster, who’s heart still belonged to a man long passed into legend, who told impossible stories of gods and dragons, and who’s years stretched nearly as long as his own.
It wasn’t easy to find them. The journey took him months, bordering on years, and while he still had plenty of time ahead of him, he very clearly wasn’t as young as he had been while fighting his way through Eiselcross and the Astral Sea. When he finally did reach the summit of the mountain, deep within the Cliffkeep Range, he found himself welcome among the Ashari people. They weren’t nearly as isolated as he had been lead to believe, although he was told that that had been their way not all that long ago.
He found a place in their schools. His way of spell casting might have been foreign to many of the druids, but they recognized the strength and intelligence that it took to learn. He loved working at the school. It was a place for the curious and the questioning. It was a place for lively debates and new ideas that challenged the way things were done. It was everything he had ever wanted while living in the Dynasty but most of all, it reminded him of his professor. Caleb had been the teacher, the one to find his home in a lecture hall, but here, Essek could walk halls Caleb had never even seen and still feel like it was a place Caleb would have called home. Sometimes he even thought he caught a glimpse of a pale red-head at the far end of the hallways.
It took him a long time to feel comfortable around the Ashari, a people so drastically different from his own. But they were patient with him, as was their way, and eventually, he let his illusions drop and for the first time in a very long time, he showed people the face that Caleb had once known.
Many, many months in to his time with the Ashari, he found himself wandering the mountainside at dusk, enjoying the dim light that cooled his skin and the breeze that gently brushed his hair from his cheek like the tender touch of a friend. Ahead of him sat a woman in a mantle. He knew her in passing as Keyleth, the Voice of the Tempest, Headmaster of the Air Ashari, and the woman he had so longed to meet. Rarely had he found her alone, but tonight, she sat beneath a cherry blossom tree with only the company of a large Raven. He wasn’t sure he wanted to disturb her, but he also knew that this was why he had come here in the first place.
There were no footsteps to alert her of his approach as he still floated most of the time, but the eyes of the raven tracked his movements and when he stopped several feet away, it fluttered over to him, causing Keyleth to turn. When she saw him standing there he caught the subtle changes in her posture. Her back straightened, her shoulders tensed, and though she smiled, her eyes were weary. He bowed slightly, knowing that this was not their custom, but feeling the need to show her some respect in the best way he knew how.
“I don’t wish to intrude, Voice of the Tempest, but I wondered if I might ask a moment of your time.”
Keyleth stood and turned toward him, gesturing for him to approach. She seemed to resign herself to her duty as the Headmaster and Essek felt a twinge of remorse for disturbing what had so clearly been a private moment.
“What can I do for you, Essek? We haven’t talked much since you arrived, I hope you’re happy here?”
“I am. And I am very grateful to be here. But I didn’t come here to teach.”
“Oh? And what did you come here for?”
“To find you.” Essek watched her stiffen at this declaration. Eyes bright, and fist tight on her staff, Keyleth was not one to be caught off guard and not even decades of peace had dulled her instincts. While her hands were still, he had no doubt that if he didn’t play his cards exactly right in the next few minutes, spells would dance from her fingertips with a speed and ferocity he would hardly be able to match. He hurried on, “I heard once that we had much in common, and I hoped to find someone who could understand. I do not wish for anything but a conversation with someone who might also know the consequences of a very long life.”
Keyleth didn’t relax much, at least not that he could see, but she also didn’t tense any more than she already had. She tilted her head just slightly, and he could feel her gaze take him in. He gave her a moment and just when he was about to speak again, her voice reached him. Quieter than he expected and almost difficult to hear over the rushing wind, a question.
“I understand that all elves live long lives. Your own people must understand. Why come looking for me?”
“I am not welcome among my people and I never will be again. I found a group of people for a while, who loved me, and taught me what it meant to love them, but they’re gone now. My people might live long lives, but they do so with others of their kind, and with souls that never die. Even if I could return to them, they have never had to mourn. They have never had to feel what it is to love someone who is gone. You, Headmaster, might understand. After all, how many years have you spent visiting this raven?”
She didn’t answer him, but after a brief pause, she leaned her staff against the tree and gestured for him to sit beside her. The raven slowly found it’s way into her lap and she stroked the dark inky feathers in the first hints of moonlight. Essek made his way over, and sat what he hoped was a respectable distance away, not comfortable with this level of informality but also not willing to disobey the Headmaster. The silence stretched between them, Keyleth’s attention on the raven and Essek unsure of what to say next.
Finally, he broke the silence. “I beg your pardon, Headmaster, I -”
“Please call me Keyleth. Even after all this time, I just can’t get used to the titles.”
“Keyleth then, if you insist.”
“I do. Especially tonight.”
“Can I ask what makes tonight special?”
Keyleth paused for a long moment. “Depending on where this conversation goes, maybe I’ll end up telling you.”
“I don’t wish to burden you. We can always talk another day.”
“No,” she still hadn’t met his gaze, but her voice was steady and kind. “I usually spend this night alone, but it seems someone wants me to have company. Tell me your story Essek. Tell me why I was the one you thought might understand.”
And so he told his tale. He held back very little and it was the most he had told anyone in centuries. Normal so careful about every detail he shared, it came pouring out as though he had simply been waiting for someone to ask. He told her of the prodigy, shakled too early with responsibility. He told her of the Shadowhand and of the fatal flaws, the mistakes he’d made and the regrets that still weighed heavy. He told her of the adventurers who had shaped him and changed the course of his life. He told her of a man he was scared to love, and yet had loved until the end of his days and beyond. He told her of his friends, his chosen family, and the impossible things they had done together. And he told her of the graves. The oldest grown over with moss, stone weathered, but well cared for. And the newest, still fresh in his mind although it had been at least two decades since he had seen it last.
The moon rose high over their heads as he talked and Keyleth only listened, drinking in the tale he wove into the space below the stars. When he finished, she reached out for his hand, and he hesitated only briefly before placing his fingers in hers. They sat together in the cool of the night, the drow, the half-elf, and the raven, watching the stars and the moon, and just letting time flow. It wasn’t necessarily a comfortable silence, at least not for Essek, but something told him to be patient. That maybe this was something that she needed and so he waited for her.
“I spend this night alone because it is the anniversary of the first one I had to spend without Vax’ildan. I didn’t get to love him as long as you did Caleb, but I still remember him. I’m the only one left who actually knew him. I suppose his half-sister, or even his father could still be around, but they only knew him in passing, really. When you’ve lived this long, you have so many people to mourn, and at least my people understand that much, but they’ve never really been able to grasp who he was to me and what it feels like to miss him still even though my heart has healed in so many ways. I think you might understand that.”
Essek squeezed her hand lightly, and watched as the corner of her mouth lifted.
“You know, we have more in common than I think you even realized when came looking for me. One of these days, when this mantle doesn’t feel quite so heavy, we should talk again. I’ll tell you the bits of my story you haven’t heard. I think you’ll enjoy them very much.”
She stood then, smiling at Essek and lifted her arm, letting the raven swoop into the night.
“You’re always welcome to join me on my evenings under this tree, Essek. I’d very much like to get to know you better.”
She turned, before he could answer, and leaning on her staff, made her way into the night. Past the cherry blossom tree and into the familiar darkness of the Ashari camp. He watched until she faded out of sight amongst the buildings.
Essek sat for a while longer beneath the cherry blossoms, basking in comfortable darkness, strangely unworried by everything he had shared that night. There was something about a mildly anxious red-head who could see past his deceptions and didn’t judge that made him feel right at home. He had a feeling Caleb and Keyleth would have made wonderful friends.