Chapter Text
Elias could not remember sleeping in solitude. Yes, he had his own room as a child, but memories from before hosting his three spectators are… spotty. Ever since that night, the shadow stalked him endlessly. Eleven years, and the only reason he hadn't been consumed was because his parents were there, too. Their souls, intangibly tied to his, shielding him from the darkness he'd accidentally unleashed.
Stupid.
It was, after all, his fault. He'd messed up. He'd cost his parents their lives after all.
Elias lifts his gaze. The spiritual tools he'd thrown lay scattered across the floor. His own ability to connect to those long since past seems to have disappeared with the loss of his parents. He's even more powerless than he already was. Weak, weak, weak.
He numbly drags himself to his knees. Eleven years already… when else will he get such a chance? If resurrection proves to become more difficult beyond ten, then waiting will only worsen his chances. Al'henna herself said her control of such magic is waning slowly over the years, and if he waits much longer then perhaps she will no longer be capable of it. Even if one day on his own he might be able to perform the ritual… by then… surely he'd be older than his parents. How much time would he have left to spend with them?
Tens of thousands of gold. A soul would pay for a soul. Labor and coin could pay for the other.
If not true resurrection, she could instead bind their souls to an object, but… no. No. They've been trapped in incorporeality for too long with no one to talk to but each other, the shadow, and himself. No ability to sleep or to enjoy food or explore untethered for him.
No. It has to be all or nothing, and between her and a devil, he'd certainly pick her.
His fingers rest over his chest.
Alonso'd said to never barter with such a thing, but he owes it to them, doesn't he? He'd been brought into the world because of them. He'd only survived because of them. Both body and soul, he's sure, would have been lost to the shadow if not for them.
Never make a deal with a non mortal, kid.
He grips at the dark cloth. It's the only thing he has of value that could secure full payment for one of his parents. And it wouldn't matter until he died. He could grow old with his parents and have decades together to make memories. Give them the lives they deserve to have, full of joy and love, of warmth and delicious meals, of friends and connection, of all the things he'd taken from them. And only after they'd lived to the fullest together, they'd die again… he'd die too… and rather than make it to Drineal's domain, he'd be with Al'henna.
It's not a bad price. His parents deserve all that and more. So what if he doesn't pass to the same place as them after? All it costs is a soul… and some years of work. He's taken enough advantage of Alonso's- his- his o'su's resources… it's time he finally does things on his own. He can work, and he can die at the end, and it'll be okay.
The angel will own his soul, but Elias doesn't remember ever having his as his own, anyway. Eleven years and neither his body nor soul were really his. It can't be that different to pass it onto her. For all intents and purposes it should be an improvement.
Touching the amulet had been a mistake. He hadn't chosen to unleash that creature, and he hadn't chosen for his parents to sacrifice themselves. All of that had just- happened. Happened while he could do nothing but accept it. Like the confinement, the exorcism, too. Hapless in the face of other forces directing his life.
But now he can choose to bring them back.
His Scorned family would hate this. His dead parents themselves have said not to do this. But he can imagine them. Full of life, smiling, laughing. All of them, together in the warmth of his home. Hands gesturing, eyes crinkling, faces full of comfortable joy.
Calmness and surety settle inside his chest. Here in this empty and unfamiliar place, bereft of his parents, that image alone is worth everything and more. That he can pay with just a soul and some time is a blessing at all.
It's an easy choice, in the end, and it's his to make.