Chapter Text
Once this whole ordeal was over, Beau swore to Ioun that the Happy Fun Ball would be sealed away in Cobalt Soul's most secure vault. Deep underground, locked in an enchanted lead box where no sound, light, or a wizard thirsty for knowledge could ever reach it again.
She expected bad news as soon as she heard Essek's panicked voice echo through her mind. Caleb told her a few days prior that the pair of them were going to go on an excursion of some kind, but he gave her no further details. That wasn't anything new; he rarely disclosed to her what he and Essek were up to — probably some freaky shit — so she waved it off with the usual spiel to keep his sending stone close by so they could stay in contact. She even planned to call him later that night to interrupt any 'private study time' the pair might be having. But Essek contacting her could only mean that Caleb was unable to, and that meant something went tits up. She remembered sitting up straighter as the message came through, the work in front of her discarded to give her rapt attention to Essek's words. But when he finished explaining everything (which took multiple Sendings to do), she could only reply with one thing.
'What. The. Fuck.'
Now, reunited once again and having bested a labyrinth of nightmares cooked up for them by their resident wizard, the Mighty Nein found themselves in a massive dome. In a paradoxical sort of way, it felt both like an homage and an antithesis of the dome that they have so often camped under. While sharing the original's amber colouration, the whole thing was made of hard, polished metal. The walls were lined with intricate machinations and clockwork, always moving, shifting. Beau couldn't look at one spot for too long, or all the movement would start to make her feel dizzy. The floor, meanwhile, was perfectly smooth. Not a single speck or bump anywhere. If the dome was a representation of a homely chaos, this was bitter perfection condensed into a room. And, in the middle of it all, stood Caleb Widogast. Eyes empty and eyebrows drawn together, he stretched out his hand, ready for battle.
When they were making their way through the Happy Fun Ball, Essek recounted what had happened during his and Caleb's visit. In between all the arcane jargon that he was throwing around, Beau gleamed that Caleb looked at some runes, they embedded themselves in his memory, and proceeded to scramble his whole sense of self to think he was the maze master and anyone else was an intruder. So it wasn't a possession in the sense of it being someone else residing in his body, nor a charm like those damn succubuses from Asarius. And because the spell was literally embedded in his brain, they were running the risk of causing irrevocable damage to his mind. Fantastic. Beau really loved their fucking odds right now.
She supposed she should count her blessings, as sparse as they might be. At least this happened just as the Balleater was docked in Nicodronas and Caduceus had some spare time on his hands. The maze was already no breeze, but without their clerics, they would not have been able to survive the shit that Caleb had cooked up for them for this final battle.
For all that it did fuck up, the charm wasn't gracious enough to scramble Caleb's memories of his friends' fighting styles. He was swift and efficient, using the knowledge of each of their weaknesses to his fullest advantage. Beau briefly wondered if this was her getting to experience what Caleb was like back when he was a Volstrucker — days which she had so meticulously documented years prior — before banishing that thought in favour of dodging being fried to a crisp by a fireball. The initial plan was to tire him out enough so that she could stun him, for then either Essek or Jester to modify his memories and erase the sigil. The problem was, Caleb wasn't letting up, barraging them with wave after wave of arcane prowess. Did the sigil amplify his power, or was Caleb always capable of feats like this but never did so from fear of losing control?
It wasn't just Caleb that they had to worry about, either. If the narrative being woven was that Caleb was a ruler of this ball, and they were invaders trying to take over, then the chamber they were in was his fortress. And why wouldn't he take time to design it to give him the edge over any scuffle that might ensue? Every few seconds, the elements on the wall would arrange themselves in some sort of formation, resulting in a burst of magical energy washing over the arena. Sometimes, the effect would be a hazardous one — a cloud of poison, a reversal of gravity, or just a plain old explosion — while other times, it would be something restorative to Caleb. Beau didn't know which was worse.
Most damning of all was the fact that there was no way to turn it off. Having gotten intimately familiar with the walls from being slammed into them so many times, Beau just couldn't find a crack to jam a metaphorical pebble into. With no backdoor for them to storm the fortress through, it meant the only way to the ruler was brute forcing the entrance. They were all giving it their all, using whatever tools they had at their disposal to clear a path for her to Caleb. Jester and Fjord with their teleportation, Yasha with her wings, and Beau with her speed. But it seemed that, above all else, Caleb was dead set on making sure Beau didn't get within striking distance. Sometimes he got creative, increasing the room's gravity, redirecting teleportation to a different target, or leaving some sort of illusory copy in his place. But most of the time, he resorted to just blowing her away with a torrent of wind.
Pushing herself off the wall after one such attack, hissing as the cogs dug into the wounds on her back, Beau took in the view of the battlefield. The Nein were all spread out, catching as much precious air as they could in a fleeting moment of respite. To her right, Beau saw Jester's expression crumple, tears flowing down her cheeks as she muttered an incantation to summon another serrated lollypop. Across the field, Yasha was listing on Skingorger, defeat shadowing her face. Each and every one of her companions was starting to succumb to the same heart-wrenching realisation. Up until now, they have all remained on the defensive. Despite Caleb aiming to kill, the thought of hurting a friend did not sit right with them; even Beau, who promised to keep him in check, couldn't see herself bringing him down if it came down to it. But no amount of desperate pleading or appealing to his real self was doing anything. They were all approaching their limits, and if they didn't end this fight soon, they'd start dropping like flies. So with no sign of a breakthrough from Caleb, it seemed there was no choice but for them to go all out on the offensive.
Except, there was something. A few blink-and-you-miss-it moments, scattered through the battle, where Caleb wavered. The first time it happened, Beau thought it was just a coincidence. The second time, a delusion. But after the third time, as cynical a person as she was, she felt hope. Hope that they could end this without any casualties after all.
And the key to it all was Essek.
None of them were spared from being targeted for attacks, but Essek was hit with notably weaker spells than the rest of them. Areas of effect spells were predominantly cast away from him, too. But most damning of all was the moment when Essek somehow managed to get within an arm's length of Caleb. The other whipped around to react with a spell, but when he registered who was in front of him, he hesitated. Essek's presence clearly did something to Caleb, and if they could just capitalise on that, they could win this.
The man in question was only fifteen or so feet from her. His pristine hairdo fell apart, strands of his white hair now singed at the edges. His robes were tattered and ripped, adorned with bloody roses blooming from his wounds. He was clutching his shoulder, the skin still smouldering from the bolt of fire that just scorched it. Despite taking the least amount of hits, he looked the worst of them all, and Beau was near certain a gust of wind would be enough to make him keel over.
He stumbled closer to her, and despite how ragtag he looked, Beau was relieved to find that his eyes were still sharp.
"I think I can get through to him. I just need a chance to talk with him." He stammered out in between his breaths, "I need you to get close enough to stun him."
Beau spat out some blood. "Dude, what do you think I've been trying to fucking do this entire time?! He's doing everything he can to not let me do that!!" She instinctively shielded her head as a roar of a fireball echoed through the room. Looking over Essek's shoulder, she was relieved to find that Yasha, Veth and Jester all avoided being in its epicentre. "Me, Jester, and Yasha all tried and failed, so if you have any ideas, I'm all ears."
"There is… a spell. It allows a caster to stop the flow of time around them for a few seconds. Caleb and I have been working on trying to extend the reach of this spell to include one other creature, and we managed to create a prototype. It is less potent than what we were hoping for, but all the trials we carried out with it so far have been successful. We weren't able to test it with a humanoid yet, and so I wanted to hold out on it for as long as possible, but I fear we don't have much of a choice at this stage."
"Well then, what are you waiting for? Just cast it already!"
"It is not so simple, Beauregard. The spell involves manipulating time, and the more variability is present, the higher the likelihood that something will go wrong. I'd prefer to wait a moment longer to see if we can get as few moving elements as possible."
"I hate to break it to you, dude, but we're in the middle of a battlefield! The chances of everything just suddenly stopping are about as big as Trent Ikifuck's dick."
An audible click cut through their discussion. The clockwork on the walls stopped moving; a sign that the room was about to release another wave of magic. A sense of dread settled at the bottom of Beau's stomach. What was it going to be this time?
In a snap, the room went pitch black. Beau reached for her googles, but despite feeling their weight on her head, she couldn't pull them over her eyes. Then, a speck of light appeared in the distance. Then another. And another. Soon, the space around her was dotted with them. The colours also began to shift, blues and greens and purples breaking through and mixing with the darkness. It brought back the memories of looking into the beacon, of catching that glimpse of the universe of endless possibilities that a mere mortal wouldn't be able to comprehend. Beau whipped her head around, trying to find her friends or some way out of this. But anywhere she looked, it was just the endless expanse suffocating her with its scale.
She blinked. And she came face to face with herself.
It wasn't a reflection. The hair was longer and held in a messy bun, she wore a long, dirt-green coat, and she was missing all her scars and piercings. It was her from the days of working at the winery. In the corner of her eye, she saw another shape manifest. Another visage of her, this time her hair cut short, wearing the bright blue robes of a Cobalt Soul acolyte. Her back from the first days at the Soul. And then another. Fur-lined deep blue coat, hair having grown out of the top knot and cascading down her neck. The freshly cooked Expositor.
One by one, more versions of her began surrounding her. Some of them were her at different points in her life, while the others she figured were versions of her from alternate realities. Yet they all shared that empty, lifeless stare. Beau briefly wondered how the fuck Caleb was able to tap into magic like that. But there was no time for pondering these things; she had to get out. She tried to take a step forward, but some sort of force was pushing back against her. She began thrashing, screaming, and cursing, hoping that, if it couldn't reach her friends, it would at least illicit some sort of response from all of these copies of her.
For a while, they just continued to stare. Waiting her out, letting her tire herself out in this oppressive, silent hell-scape. But once Beau stopped to catch her breath, they began shifting. No longer were they surrounding her, but now stood opposite her, like an army ready to face an opponent. A figure emerged to lead the front. It was her replica, but sharing the dead stare of the rest of her copies.
They all opened their mouths, ready to speak…
… and a hand landed on her shoulder.
In a blink, Beau found herself back on the battlefield. She whipped her head around, taking in everything to reorient herself. The rest of her friends were still where she last saw them, only now they were all frozen in place, their eyes clouded over. A distance away, Caleb was looking straight at her, his head tilted like that of a predator who did not expect to see their prey still alive after a pounce. At her side, Essek was clutching her shoulder, his frame relaxing as their eyes met.
"Essek, what just happened?" she asked.
"It seems that Caleb was able to use the Folding Halls as a vessel to both amplify and alter the properties of creating echoes." Essek said, "From what I managed to glean from unravelling the effect on you, each of our friends has been trapped somewhere in between consciousness and dream, and is being forced to face fragments of themselves from across possibilities. The effect seems to have been designed to last for a long time, and I have neither the understanding nor the resources to dispel it."
"So, unless we get Caleb to dismiss the spell, they'll stay frozen like this?"
"Or the time it's designed to last runs out. But waiting that long could have disastrous consequences."
Beau shook her head to expel the mental image of Ikithon's smug mug from her brain. It seemed like even after they killed him, that bastard would continue to find ways to haunt them.
"This enough of an opportunity for ya?"
"Get ready to run. The spell already has an element of volatility to it, so with me stretching its potency even further, you might not get more than 6 seconds to get to him."
"That's all I need."
"You managed to revert my enchantment. Impressive." The pair turned their heads to look at Caleb. "When you set out mouse traps, it is inevitable that one or two rodents will get through. No matter. I've just got to deal with you myself."
He raised his hand, but Essek was faster. Bringing his hands together, a ball of purplish energy began pulsing between his palms. The force of each pulse threatened escape, but Essek was able to keep it at bay for the time being (though the beads of sweat running down his face told Beau it wouldn't stay that way for long). Caleb's speaking slowed, each word more drawn out than the last, until he quietened completely. That was her cue. Like a bullet, Beau shot out from her spot, channelling her Ki to propel her to go even faster. She cut straight through the arena, vaulting over the debris compounded through their fight. Every jump risked slowing her down, but time was of the essence, and she needed to save as many precious seconds as she could — especially when she heard Essek kneel to the ground, barely holding onto what she assumed was a fragment of time itself. Who doesn't risk it doesn't eat potatoes, or some shit like that.
In this case, her risk had paid off. Clearing each obstacle flawlessly, Beau found herself in front of their resident wizard in a flash. Using the momentum from her dash, she leapt and jammed her knee straight into his kidney. The orb in Essek's hands shattered just as she pummelled her Ki towards Caleb's pressure point. With time restored, she watched in real time as Caleb's muscles locked up in an oh-so familiar way. The stun was successful. Beau really didn't want to think about what would have happened if it wasn't.
Now rooted in his spot, Caleb started twisting left and right. He tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was slurred gargles. Seeing that fail, he stripped away his high wizard persona and reverted to primal instincts. He knew anything he'd try to do would be in vain — he had seen her in combat enough times to know how her stuns worked — but like a caged animal, he wasn't going to just sit there without putting up a struggle. When she walked around to face him, he bared his teeth at her.
Ah, so that's how they were going to play?
"Not so nice being trapped somewhere without means of escape, is it?" She grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at her while also making it hurt juuuust a little bit. "I know you're somewhere in there, so just fucking listen to what he has to say. Maybe that will clear your mind again."
She backed away, letting Essek take her place as she circled back to her original spot. As he floated over, she noticed the streak of blood running down from his nostril. If he wasn't doing well before, then by now, Beau suspected he was being kept up by his sheer willpower alone. Fists in the air, she readied herself in case she needed to extend the stun.
In comparison to Beau's earlier rough grab, Essek was gentle, cupping Caleb's face in both of his hands. "Caleb… I know your mind is telling you that your place is within these cold, desolate walls. That your role is nothing more than a composer who creates music for wandering puppets to dance to. That you are destined to live a life of solitude and desertion. Maybe these thoughts are not unfamiliar to you, the spell simply reshaping them to fit a different context. But Ussta'chev, seeing you fight today makes it clear to me that, in your heart, you know this is not your home."
In that moment, Beau saw Caleb's muscles relax again. The stun had worn off. But Caleb made no move to indicate aggression. His eyes were entirely transfixed on Essek, balancing on the cusp of melting into the touch as the other man ran a thumb across his cheek. Making the briefest eye contact with the drow, Beau raised her fists in a silent question. He broke their gaze, looking back to Caleb. After a brief moment, his head made a minute shake. With how he continued to stroke Caleb's cheek, one wouldn't think much of the gesture unless they were specifically looking for it. Beau was a bit sceptical, but Essek held the reins here, so she lowered her fists and continued to observe.
"Your home is a modest cottage on the outskirts of Rexxentrum, full of cats, books, and trinkets amassed from far and wide to remind you of those you love. Your home is amidst your friends, your family, who cherish you and who you cherish in turn. And your home is at my side, two souls intertwined in their attempts to learn and grow and trip and fall, all to try to make up for the sins of their past. Over the years, you have bought me back from the brink of downfall on so many occasions, and it is an honour to be at your side to return this favour. So please, Caleb, come back... to us… to me."
With that, Beau could see the tension in Caleb's posture dissipate. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut loose, he hunched forward, and Beau felt a weight fall off her shoulders.
"Essek…" Caleb whispered. His hand shook as he lifted it towards Essek's cheek, almost as if he didn't believe the man in front of him was real.
With a welcoming smile, Essek raised his hand to meet Caleb's.
"I'm here, Ussta'chev. Let us go home."
Their fingers intertwined, Essek began muttering another incantation. Modify Memory, Beau assumed; a moment of breakthrough or not, it was still a good idea to erase any trace of that glyph from Caleb's memory.
Caleb's posture tensed up again.
"Shit." Readying herself, Beau struck a pressure point in his spine, channelling her Ki in an attempt at another stun. However, this time, Caleb managed to resist it. He began to chant an incantation, and though she couldn't see much behind his back, she did see him raise his hand at a heartbroken Essek.
One of the things that defined Beauregard Lionett was her instinct. It was what got her recognised by Dairon and later Cobalt Soul, and it saved her ass on many occasions. As she had grown older, she had learned the value of patience and letting her impulses be tempered by rational thought. 'Instinct is an impulse polished by knowledge'; she learnt that one from Dairon. Though her friends were focused solely on snapping Caleb out, Beau thought about what lay further beyond. About the guilt and self-loathing Caleb was going to sink back into once this got resolved. She analysed which scenarios would cause him to spiral more than others. The conclusion she reached was that they'd be able to bring him back from all but one scenario.
From all but Essek's death.
In a flash, Beau side-stepped around Caleb, shoving Essek out of the way. At that moment, Caleb's hand landed on her arm. Ghastly pain rocked through her whole body, and she bit on her tongue to the point of blood just to not scream. But she'd endure it, the clerics would get her up, and then they'd—.
Darkness — an adept hunter and the greediest gorger, stuck in an eternal hunt to appease the hunger that can never be satiated. It's swift and efficient, enclosing its target from all sides until it has them isolated from everything. The prey can only watch as the world, light, and life around them dissolve into nothing. Before they know it, they are in the mouth of the beast, a dimension not bound by space, time, or direction. All they can do now is give themselves into the whims of it, hoping it is merciful enough to spit them back out into the light.
In any other scenario, awakening in the maw of darkness, where a day could pass by in a blink and a second could stretch for infinity, would be bad news. But this time, it was a luxury. Because awareness was a sensation, and a sensation meant inklings of consciousness. And that meant a chance of escaping back into the light. Darkness was stubborn, not letting its prey go so easily, but soon enough, other sensations began penetrating its veil.
Hushed whispers.
A soft mattress.
A gentle breeze blowing in.
A kiss on the forehead.
The comforting weight of another hand.
Like the morning dawn banished the night away, so did these help the sun of presence rise on the dawning consciousness.
At first, not much had changed; it was still dark as far as the eye could see. But the darkness was no longer oppressive. It was lighter, mixed with shades of blues and purples, and wrapped around different objects, showcasing the depth of the space around. Most importantly, to the left, there was a window. The sky was coloured in a shade of lilac, with shy oranges and yellows peeking from over the horizon. A twilight, it seemed. After a moment that could have lasted hours, the sun rose from its slumber, its rays a soft blanket over the surroundings. One tricksy glimmer made its way through the blinds, washing the world in a blinding white.
A spell. A scream. Cold, hard ground. Darkness.
Blinking rapidly to rid the tears away, the sunrise revealed the details of what the night had obstructed. One shape stood out amongst the others; a hunched-over figure, sleeping by the bed, her fingers resting along the pulse line. A guardian, finally giving in to her exhaustion, but even in her sleep, not relishing her duty to keep watch. How long has she been here? At that moment, the door to the room creaked slightly. A familiar blue tiefling slipped in, her steps careful, likely in an attempt to not disturb anyone else in the house. But as they locked eyes, that intent flew away like a leaf on the wind. In an instant, Jester's expression morphed into a mixture of surprise and relief.
"Caleb! You're awake!!" She rushed over, her hands hovering anxiously, stuck between wanting to pull him into a hug and not wanting to overwhelm him. She settled on the middle ground, taking his other hand in both of hers, and giving him one of those smiles that brightened up a room in an instant. "I'm so so glad!! We were so worried!"
In that moment, Veth began to stir as well. Blinking the sleep away from her eyes, he could see in real time the recognition dawn on her face. They locked eyes, and like drawing a final sigil in a spell, she bolted upright in her seat.
"Cay, you're back! How long have you been awake? Do y-you need anything like a blanket or water or something?"
"Some water would be good, ja" With Jester's help, Caleb eased himself to sit up against the headboard. With the sun now higher in the sky, letting more light into the room, he could make out more details about the room they were in. There was nothing special about its decor; a standard desk by one corner of the room, a closet in the other, and a bookshelf right by the entrance. But he had slept in this room enough times to know that the desk was filled with scribbling paper and ink, the closet had a never-ending collection of doodles and drawings on the inside, and the bookshelf was overflowing with little trinkets and knick-knacks representative of each of the Nein. They were in Beauregard's and Yasha's guest room.
"Here you go, Caleb." Veth snapped him out of his thoughts, holding a glass out towards him.
He took it with muttered thanks. The water did wonders for his dried throat, like the cracked soil getting the taste of the mid-summer rain, and he greedily gulped all of it. Without waiting for permission, Veth refilled his glass, her and Jester observing him intently. Their faces painted an image of many emotions: relief, concern, a hint of expectation, as well as something he could only describe as hopeful grief. The weight of their gazes made him want to shrivel away. Like a prisoner awaiting his punishment, he hung his head low and looked into his glass. Retreating into his mind, he tried to navigate his thoughts in order to figure out how he got here. A rush of memories flooded his brain.
Going into the happy fun ball with Essek.
Fingers intertwined in his. A spell being cast.
Stumbling upon a room — a new room — with shelves upon shelves of new books to read.
Recognition of danger, a sense of betrayal, a craving for retribution.
Opening one of the books up. A voice apparating inside his mind.
Tracing a spell sigil in the air. Releasing it towards the man who was meant to be his other half, but amassed to being nothing but a traitor.
'He's not your friend. No one is. You are now the master of this place. Don't let anyone else in.'
"Caleb!!" a voice cut through the current of his thoughts. Blinking back, he found Veth clutching his hand hard enough that her knuckles turned white. The concern on her face now waxed into panic, her eyes searching for any sign of recognition on his face. Jester, meanwhile, clutched the symbol of the Traveller, readying herself to cast a spell. Though her presence still felt warm, there was clearly fear in her eyes; most of it for him, but some of it of him.
"J-ja, I'm here," he said.
"Would you like me to get Caduceus?"
"Nein, I'm fine. I just… can you tell me what happened? My mind… is a bit hazy at the moment."
Jester and Veth looked at each other, the panic on their faces not letting up. Despite not saying anything, the two debated for a moment before turning back to him.
"What do you remember, Caleb?" The levity in Jester's voice was laid on too thick to be natural.
"Essek and I went into the happy fun ball for some research. We stumbled upon… some archives, and then… I opened this book. It told me that I was now the master of the ball and to attack anyone who dared enter it without my permission. It gets… hazy… after that."
Dragging a trail of dust up his arm.
The pair visibly relaxed. Whatever he said, it seemed to have been the correct answer. Their panic receded to their earlier concern, Veth now rubbing her thumb up and down his hand with a gentle smile. But now that he said those words aloud, his brain began piecing things back together. If he were here, that meant the Mighty Nein must have gone into the Happy Fun Ball to rescue him. If he believed that anyone who entered the ball was an intruder, then he certainly must have attacked them. With each realisation, a new set of memories flooded his brain, fuelling a wave of self-hatred to keep slamming through the flood gates he had worked so long on reinforcing. He hurt them. He hurt them, and yet they kept fighting for him. They got him out, took care of him, looked at him like he meant the world to them. He looked up at Jester — sweet, joyful Jester, who always saw the good in him — and his face crumpled.
"Oh no, Caleb, please don't cry; we know that it wasn't the real you back there!" Jester said. "You made, like, this whole maze for us to navigate through, and it was really tough in some places, but we got to you in the end!! We did have to fight you for a bit, but then—"
Jester's voice caught in her throat. A heavy coat of silence fell over the room. She tried to get the words out again, but nothing would come out. Her breath sped up, and Caleb — despite the chaos of emotions whirling in his brain — saw her clutch the hem of her dress in an attempt to remain composed. The room grew darker, a heavy cloud obscuring the sun. It looked like it was about to rain soon.
"E-Essek, that's right. Essek cast a spell on you that dispelled the charm." She found her voice again, though it was much more strained this time. "And then you passed out for a couple of days, but now you're awake! Oh, that reminds me, Essek told me to Send to him when you wake up. He really wanted to be here, but he's helping Caduceus with some research. I-I'll go do that n-now."
She shot up from her seat, planting a kiss on his forehead, and was out of the door before Caleb could mutter a word of protest. But on the way out, he managed to catch a glimpse of that earlier rain, its salted drops now floating down Jester's cheeks.
Caleb blinked a few times, frozen at what had just unfolded, before shifting his eyes to Veth. Her head was hanging, fiddling with the buttons on her wrist guards. The earlier chaos in his head had turned into a full armageddon. A million thoughts were running through his mind, trying to complete a jigsaw that was missing its reference image and half the pieces. What was the thing that they were so adamant about keeping from him? Did he do something to one of the others, and they were trying to spare him the pain? Why was Essek doing research with Caduceus? Was that a lie? Did something happen to one of them? And where were the others? Fjord, Yasha, Beauregard—
A flash of blue. The spell finding a mark. Dust scattering on the floor.
Glass shattering.
Screams. Shouts. A cacophony of chaos. But one cry rises above the rest. His own.
Red liquid sullying the shattered crystals in his hands.
Sharp rocks digging into his palms, his knees.
"Caleb?!" Someone holding his hand.
A hand on his forehead. A mutter.
Darkness.
"Where is Beauregard?"
"Caleb, I don't think it's the right time to talk about this, you have just woken up and—"
"Where is she?!" he grabbed Veth's wrists, a beggar looking up to her as the despair that circulated through him seeped into her wrist guards. "Veth… please…"
A pause.
"It wasn't your fault, Caleb. You were under the influence of that spell."
A roar of a firestorm did not compare to the intensity of the guttural cry he let out into the universe.