RE: Monarch

I grabbed wads of my clothes and stuffed them into my rucksack, as well as the small box of gold I had left over

Just leave.

I could just go. That was who I was. Cairn the coward. Ran away from his own coronation and abandoned his sisters. Or at least would have, if the evil sadist from hell hadn’t gotten in the way.

None of this was my fucking problem, I hadn’t asked for any of it, I hadn’t signed up for any of this. I’d tried to do a good thing, and then I got my nose cut off, and my teeth broken, and my eye gouged. But I kept going, and watched people that I had put over a year into my life into saving circle the drain, over and over. They were on their way out, anyway. Me being here made no difference.

The world had reminded me what I was made of, and now it was time to throw up the white flag.

And then I was out the door, sprinting down the main road towards the entrance portal, head down, mouth open, gasping for every breath.

Any moment, someone would stop me. Cut me down where I stood. A demon leaping from a rooftop. Kastramoth, biting down on my arm from behind a tree. Barion, thrusting a rapier through my chest. Surely they wouldn’t just let me leave. That thought hounded at me as the voices behind me growing more distant and fading until finally I pushed through the portal, the membrane pulling tight over my face, one last barrier.

And then I was through.

The air felt fresher, lighter.

The sun had just fallen to its nadir, speckling orange rays of light through the dusk as twilight was born through the blades of browning grass.

I walked through the field of endless grass, approaching the rippling mirage of the sun. The grass swirled and rounded me like a golden ocean.

It was beautiful.

I knew exactly where I was.

But even in the darkest night in the Everwood, I had never felt so lost.

I wandered for a mile or two. My vision clouded. The flickering orange lights coalesced in a sparkling Gaussian blur.

I wiped my eyes.

When I put my hand down, something was blocking out a portion of the sun, casting a silhouette the size a small person. A child. It was the little girl from the alley—only she looked different now. Human instead of elven. Her once shaved head was laden with dirty blonde curls. Only her familiar eyes were the same.

The hallucinations hadn’t finished with me yet.

She stood there and watched me. She had the face of someone who wanted to help, but didn’t know how.

The words poured out before I even realized I was talking. “I remember thinking, a long time ago, that the gods picked the wrong person. But I had no idea how right I was. No idea at all.”

The little girl cocked her head. “Why?”

“Because I’m a coward. I’m not particularly strong. Nothing comes easy for me… and at the end of the day, I’ll always choose myself over anyone else.”

She tapped my forehead.

Maya’s face flashed into my head briefly. The image of me standing in front of her in the Everwood, flaming sword held in my hand.

I looked…

Had I really looked like that?

Another image. This time from when I fought tusk at the crossroads, drove my sword breaker into his gut, knowing it would likely get me killed, some part of me hoping it would.

I looked so determined. So strong.

Where was that strength, now?

Another image, this time unprompted. I stood before a throng of people and casted my crown into the raging green fire.

I wish to live, freely and forever!

The sound of my own voice echoed in my head. I closed my eyes and confessed the truth.

“I wanted it to be true.”

“Wanted what to be true?” The girl asked. Her voice had a strange, musical quality, like fingers walking up a harp.

“I didn’t care about the wish.” I admitted. That night was so vivid in my mind even still, burning brightly with the rancid emotion that filled me like bile. “I just wanted it to be true… so I could claim it. Deprive them of it. I wanted them to feel loss, real loss. To—“

Suffer. As I have suffered

There was a meaty thump as someone flicked my forehead. I fell back into the grass. For a hallucination, it felt strangely real.

“Wishes aren’t real.” She pointed at me sternly. “You should know this by now.” She turned and faced the horizon. The sun had disappeared beneath a distant hilltop, and the first few stars shimmered dimly in the sky. She held one arm behind the other. “I make wishes all the time. I wish that the sun would never rise. That the night would last forever, the stars shining ever so brightly.”

“Why?” I asked.

She looked over her shoulder at me. “Because of all the nights in the universe, and all the you’s, this is the you that I like the most. You talk to me. Sometimes you even listen.”

“But why does the night have to last forever?” I asked.

“Because you won’t be the same tomorrow.”

“Sure I will.”

“No. You won’t.” She said it with sadness that held a great, unknowable weight. “No matter what you decide. Everything will change.”

My mind tracked back to the idea that came to me when I woke in the surface caves. The idea that had prompted me to flee, turned my entire state of being into a question of fight or flight.

The girl shook her head. “I can’t tell you the right answer. But I can leave you with a warning for later—“ She bent down and looked at me seriously. “When the moon alights with silver flame, don’t cross the threshold. It will only lead to heartache.”

“What does that… mean.” I trailed off, alone in the field once more. The girl was gone.

I thought, long and hard, about who I was. Who I wanted to be. Then, slowly, I walked back towards the portal and descended into the dark.

----

The next morning, I began the long process of making my peace.

The timing of this would not allow for a second try.

There were a number of things I wanted to do.

I stopped by Ralakos’s first, and asked for the use of one of his halls for the evening. He obliged, asking what the occasion was.

There was no reason to lie. I told him the truth. I wanted to celebrate.

I took a slow walk around the Enclave. First, I came to Casikas’s shop. I watched the man work through the window, before entering. His glasses slipped down over his nose and he squinted, pushing them up again. The bell chimed as I entered, just as it had so many times before.

Casikas waved to me and asked if I was working today. I shook my head no, and traded him the garrote caps at a hefty discount. He was thrilled, but didn’t have enough gold on hand and gave me a note for the bank.

I followed the path through the market, through midtown. I peered in a raucous tavern and caught sight of a few soldiers I knew on sight. Urish, the female water-magician, was passed out at a nearby table. Theros and Relyre were well and drunk, despite it being early afternoon. The big infernal had his arm over the smaller one and was singing a bawdy tune about a blushing crab.

They hadn’t met me, but that didn’t matter. I approached the barkeep and slid him a silver bar. The barkeep’s eyebrow shot up. But I was already leaving.

“Keep my friends over there in drink, would you?”

His gaze traveled to the soldiers and he sighed long sufferingly. “As you please.”

I threaded my way through the busy streets until I came to the temple district. There I found Bellarex, and suffered dozens of questions on the topic of demon-fire and being human, and befriended her just as easily as I always had.

“You know,” I told her, “My friend Jorra and I have been looking for a third for the Sanctum. We spar in the practice caves on the outskirts pretty regularly. You should swing by sometime.”

Bellarex kept her face neutral, but I watched in amusement as her tail began to swing from side to side excitedly. “I’ll uh. Maybe. Uh. I’ll think about it.”

I hoped she did, even if I wasn’t there to see it. It would give Jorra someone to bond with. To mitigate the loss.

Enough of that.

I turned to leave.

“Thanks for coming by!” Bell almost squeaked.

“Goodbye Bell.” I waved.

The streets became narrower as I entered the wealthier residential district. Guemon opened the door. His momentary surprise lapsed into a scowl.

“The hells do you want?”

I held my hands up peacefully, then handed him a basket of assorted confections I picked up from the local bakery. The man was as sour as a winter lemon but he’d grown on me. He wasn’t the strongest magician, but never once had he shied from death, protecting Ralakos until the end every time.

He looked at the basket suspiciously. “I feel like this is a very diplomatic way of calling me fat.”

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“Fine.”

I walked him through a vague outline of the particulars. I intended to do something dangerous, something I might not come back from. As I spoke, his expression grew more and more befuddled. What I’d given him were a series of letters, dated and stamped to be sent from various locations pathing away from the Enclave.

I couldn’t be sure my father would buy it, but it was the best I could do.

“And you’re giving these to me.” Guemon stared at me as if I was daft.

“Yes.” I said.

“After everything I said at the trial.”

“Yes.”

He looked between the letters and me half a dozen times. “Okay, no. I have to ask. Why the fuck would you give me these? Is this bait? Some kind of mind game?”

I smiled. “No. You’re the security expert. I trust you to do what’s best for the Enclave.”

Guemon leafed through the letters, muttering the names of towns along the routes I had chosen. He eventually came to the last three, sent at the end of the line. “What are these?”

I scratched my neck awkwardly. “Letters. To my mother and sisters. I’ve… been afraid to write to them. I don’t know why.”

The truth was, I was afraid. As soon as I wrote to them, it meant I had accepted the reality that they were no longer dead. That they were alive and waiting for me in Whitefall. That they might write back. And that when they did, my resolve would weaken, and I would give up and go home, all for the chance of seeing them again.

Guemon’s face softened, though only slightly. He rubbed his forehead. “I feel like I missed something.”

“Nothing important. Enjoy basket.”

“I will.” He said absentmindedly, then sharply looked up. “Wait, no, I won’t—“

The door shut behind me—though not fast enough to muffle Guemon’s shouted obscenities.

If I failed, and the infernals somehow survived the attack, the last thing I wanted was my father swinging through to sunder the pieces. Guemon would see to that, at least.

I walked through the Thulian district. It was much less inviting during the day, the buildings washed out and awkward in the auric sun, as if the establishments were as hung over as the people who drunkenly shuffled out of them.

Feet sore from walking, I arrived at my final destination, the Glistening Gate, and asked for Persephone.

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