Chapter Text
Valisa had died hundreds of deaths, and of those only two were of any consequence. The first was lost to her, the one that ended her exile and put her into the same unknowable void as the rest of the Tarnished until they were beckoned back to the Lands Between; the second was the one she wished was permanent.
Kalé did not ask any questions when she showed up at the Church of Elleh, delirious with hunger and bone-tired. Valisa had run down a long list of deaths in the last several weeks: throwing herself off of various cliffs (revived as soon as she drowned or smashed on rocks), being eaten by monsters (revived even after being painfully digested), pulverized by giants (reconstituted almost immediately), and as a last resort, just lying there in an empty evergaol until thirst finally took her.
(That one was likely the most foolish attempt, as she woke up thirsty and died several more times on her way to the nearest river, in which she passed out and drowned almost immediately. And then, naturally, revived.)
The merchant cooked up dinner for two without asking too many questions, watched her descend on the stewed rabbit he’d offered her without comment, and when she burst into sudden and uncontrollable sobs, merely offered her a handkerchief.
Eating set Valisa’s mind right — or as right as it would get — and let her breathe for the first time in weeks. Grieving as someone who found themself at least temporarily immortal was a dangerous art, as she could actually do all of the things grief-struck people threatened to do in order to join their loved ones without much consequence. All of her death-wounds didn’t even leave any scars, as the moment they crossed the line from injury to killing blow, the power of Grace wiped them from her slate and brought her back to life without a mark.
For that reason she knew, and was grateful, that her back was not permanently etched where Blaidd’s claws had slowly ripped her open while he lay dying in her arms.
Once he was done eating, Kalé pulled his scarf back over his mouth and leaned back against the church pillar. “Rare to see you around these parts, nowadays,” he said nonchalantly. “Avoiding your peoples’ calling once again?”
“Something like that. I was hoping you had some work for me.”
“There is always work to be done, but little pay to offer for it.”
“Meals will be payment enough.”
“I never thought I’d see a Tarnished compelled toward industry more so than becoming Lord, though I suppose if any would find an excuse to avoid that quest it would be you.” Kalé scratched at his jaw, and then relented. “I could use the help gathering wares.”
Valisa nodded. “Just don’t ask me to follow any more howling, please.”
In the morning, he put her to work. A merchant needed wares, after all, and Valisa was well-traveled enough at this point to know where to source them. The sneering noble she’d encountered in the woods had still not been able to fully reclaim Fort Haight but she remembered how to get to the kitchen to rummage for spices, and even risked the rooms upstairs to look for Talismans. From Raya Lucaria and its associated tower, there were plenty of Carian trinkets that Sellen would otherwise toss away, and the outskirts of Leyendell were riddled with useable arrows.
The few non-hostile Tarnished she encountered on her stock trips mentioned that several Lord-aspirants had thrown themselves at the feet of Morgott, but failed, and many wondered aloud where the immortal wizard who felled the rest of the demigods had disappeared to without ever realizing the humble traveler before them was indeed that wizard. When asked her opinion, she merely shrugged and said she never heard of such a person.
On the afternoon of Valisa’s return, the road leading back to the Church of Elleh smelled of cinnamon-roasted chestnuts. Not many travelers bought spices, though Valisa came across them in wrecked kitchens fairly often, so Kalé learned to use them for their meals instead. Normally this was a welcome reprieve from her usual rations of dried meat and whatever leafy thing she could scavenge, but this particular smell was nostalgic in a way that hurt.
It smelled like the night they felled Radahn, and that had been the start of the end of her.