The Zombie Knight

Nibas clutched his head again, squinting hard as the unwelcome thoughts returned, setting his vision aflame and burning the inside of his skull. Confusion was trying to grip him again. He could feel it. Powerful and tempting. Ancient and inviting.

But he had anger on his side. He would not bend. He still remembered. He still had his walls. Still had himself.

“Morgunov,” came that familiar double-voice on his left. “Don’t forget. Use me as your anchor. The sound of my voice. Hold onto it. Don’t forget.”

Nibas was getting annoyed with him, too. “Stop reminding me. I remember just fine.”

“No, you don’t. You have to trust me, right now.”

“Why should I? You’re not even real! You’re just an illusion, like all the others!”

“Yes, but I’m not your illusion. I’m my own. And I’ve come to help you. Remember? You were in a bad spot until I bailed you out.”

“I was having fun!”

“You were being killed.”

The voice sighed.

Nibas was still having trouble placing it. So familiar. Agh. “What’s your name?”

“Gohvis. Remember.”

“Ah! Gohvis! You came to help me?! No wonder I think you’re an illusion! The real Gohvis would never do that!”

“You of all people should know that there is no such thing as ‘never.’”

“Oho! True enough, I suppose!”

“Circumstances are too complicated, at the moment. Just keep listening to my voice. Trust that I am your ally here. You can still make it through this.”

Nibas shook his head. Yes. Strangely enough, he knew the voice spoke true. They’d had this conversation before, hadn’t they?

How troubling.

Where was he again? A large cave, quite clearly. He strained to recall further details.

Ah, yes. Not just any cave. It was one of his caves. A labyrinthine network that he’d carved out decades ago. No. Centuries? Yes, centuries.

Ehehe. Finally getting to use it, eh? Nice, nice.

Now where had he been going?

‘Technically, there’s been some variation there, thanks to all the different languages that have arisen over the years, but by and large, yes, the two big names have remained the same. And that’s because of us reapers, I think. We’re not ones to let well-known names go to waste, especially when we see an opportunity to gain power and followers from them.’

“Still. You’d think some would try to branch off and establish their own groups, without all the baggage that comes with the old names, right?”

‘Oh, of course. That’s happened many times, too. And sometimes, those groups grow to be even larger than the Vanguard or Abolish for a while. We’re just in a period of history right now where that is not currently the case. At the moment, the old names are the strongest again.’

“I see...”

‘In any case, we’ve been here for a while now. We should probably head back to Warrenhold before the world explodes again.’

“You didn’t hear my phone going off while I was out, did you?”

‘No. Everything should still be fine.’

Hector took a small breath. “That’s good, at least. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want to do while we’re here? What about the that mirror?”

‘Well, if you’ve changed your mind about breaking it, then I say we should take a chunk of it back with us. Otherwise, I don’t see what else there is to accomplish here, right now. Unless, perhaps, you discovered some way to activate the Gate’s teleportation capabilities while you were out and have neglected to mention it thus far.’

At that, Hector opened his mouth and hesitated. “Uh... a-actually...”

‘No. Hector, there’s no shot you learned something that important and forgot to tell me.’

“Hey, man, I was confused. And it’s not like I figured everything out. I just saw Rathmore using a Kag to activate the Gate. That’s all.”

‘Ooh. A Kag, eh? Interesting. Those are quite difficult to come by, in this day and age. And if there’s only one Kag in the entire world that fits the Gate, then finding it sounds... rather impossible.’

“Hmm. Yeah.”

‘But perhaps we could ask Abbas to make a new one for us.’

“Oh! You really think he could do that?”

‘Dunno. Worth asking, though. My understanding of Kags is admittedly a bit limited, but to my knowledge, they have quite a bit of variance to them, just like modern keys do.’

“Maybe even more so,” said Hector, thinking back on what he’d seen Rathmore do with it.

‘He joined Abolish,’ said Garovel.

Hector’s brow rose.

‘Went on to do many horrific things after that, though the world seems to have forgotten much of it, just because he did some great things when he was younger. Really bothers me, that.’

Hector was almost afraid to ask, but he had to. “What, exactly... did he do that was so bad?”

Garovel looked up at the sky. ‘He poisoned three countries. Contaminated their water. Created an awful disease and the worst acid rain I’ve ever witnessed. Killed millions in the span of a year or two.’

“Holy fuck...”

‘Yeah.’ The reaper paused. ‘But I suppose, in fairness, I should mention that there is some contention over whether or not he was the one responsible for it. Part of the reason his crimes have been largely forgotten, I suspect, is because there was a lack of proof of culpability.’

“But you believe he did it?”

‘I'd love to be proven wrong, but yes. I think I do.’

“How come?”

‘Because I talked to him, near the end. And while he didn’t explicitly confirm it, he was just... so pleased about the situation. And so insane. He talked about people who’d been dead for half a century as if they were right there next to him. Anicca, in particular. Her death... broke him, I think.’

Hector didn’t know what to say. The pain in the reaper’s voice was not something he’d heard many times before.

Garovel wasn’t saying anything, either, and a heavy silence drew out.

After a while, Hector exhaled slowly and decided to change the subject, if only slightly. “...It’s still crazy to me that Abolish has been around for that long,” he said. “I mean, you’re talking about, like, two thousand years ago, right?”

‘Thereabouts.’

“And they’ve really been at war with the Vanguard the entire time?”

‘More or less. There have been periods of peace between the two, here and there. And there have also been periods when one side seemed to achieve true victory over the other, only for the loser to reemerge years later and continue the fight.’

“Man...”

‘The problem, I think, is that the two sides are more ideologically driven than anything. And ideas are very hard to kill. If not impossible. Even if you manage to wipe out everyone who thinks a certain way, someone brand new could be born who eventually arrives at those same ideas all on their own.’

“Hmm. But both sides kept the name the whole time? Like, every iteration of the Vanguard has always referred to itself as such? And Abolish, too? That seems a little weird.”

“That tracks with what I saw of him,” said Hector. “The way he talked to Rathmore was like...” And he paused, suddenly realizing what words were about to come out of his mouth and thinking twice about it.

‘Hmm? Like what?’

Hector remained quiet for a few moments longer as he thought back.

As he relived something that he didn’t want to.

“...The way Nykeir was acting reminded me of Geoffrey Rofal,” he finally said.

Garovel said nothing, perhaps expecting Hector to elaborate.

Hector decided to do so, realizing something else as well. “I guess... you weren’t actually there for that part, were you?”

‘What part?’

“At the end. My final encounter with him. He was different than before.”

‘You told me about it. I remember.’

Hmm? Oh, Garovel was talking about his father. How Geoffrey had stolen the man’s body. Taunted him while wearing his father’s face. Hector had of course told Garovel about that.

But that wasn’t what he was talking about here. “No, it wasn’t just... that. There was something else different.”

‘What do you mean?’

“Geoffrey's behavior. It was like... he wasn’t just crazy, anymore. He was obsessed. With me. And the way Nykeir was talking to Rathmore... felt very similar.”

‘Ah. I see.’ The reaper paused, hovering nearer the Gate. ‘I know exactly what you’re talking about. I may not have been present for either of the situations you’re describing, but I’ve seen it many times before. That type of... truly malevolent, psychopathic obsession. And as a matter of fact, that’s what happened to Rathmore in the end, too.’

Hector blinked. “He...? He turned out like Nykeir?”

‘Well, without having actually witnessed what you did, I can’t say for sure that they were the same, but from the sound of it, ah... yes.’

“But Rathmore seemed pretty reasonable in the memories. I mean... mostly.”

‘Oh yeah. For a while there, he was a great man. Noble of mind and heart. Level-headed and intelligent. Someone to look up to.’

“So what changed?”

‘Lots of things. It was a slow process over many years, as it often is. But... it was terrible to watch unfold. And terrible to remember, still.’ The reaper shook his skull solemnly. ‘Not being as experienced in these things back then, I was in denial about it for much longer than I should have been. And his reaper--she was even worse than I was. Absolutely refused to see the truth of things, long after it should have been obvious.’

“...What finally convinced you that he was too far gone?”

“Huh,” said Hector, feeling abruptly like he might need to elaborate. “But, uh... Nykeir seemed kinda amused by the giant tentacle. Like more amused than worried. He just... sort of stood there and took it. Then it gooped him up and yoinked him away.”

‘“Gooped him up and yoinked him away.” Once again, your word choice continues to impress.’

“Look, I don’t how else to describe it. It was really fucking weird-looking, man.”

‘No, no, I wasn’t saying I didn’t understand. If anything, I’d say you’ve painted quite the picture for me. I’m imagining it very clearly.’

“Oh. Well, good. But anyway, my point was that maybe the Yigorosk wasn’t actually that powerful. Y’know? Considering how unbothered he seemed when it happened? Maybe he survived. In... another dimension or something.”

‘Given everything else we’ve seen lately, I suppose that’s possible. But it’s also been well over two millennia since his disappearance. If he really did live through that, then he probably got killed some other way, else he would’ve almost certainly returned by now.’

“You sound confident about that. Did you... know him personally?”

Garovel allowed that question to breathe. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, I did.’

“Why’d you never mention that you knew an ancient emperor?”

‘Why should I have? He’s far from the only one I’ve ever encountered.’

“Really? How many past emperors have you met?”

‘Oh, I don’t know. A lot. You have to understand: things weren’t always like the stalemate that we have with our current four emperors. There’ve been many times throughout history when the term “emperor” barely even applied, because they were popping up like weeds and dropping like flies. And many, despite how fleeting their time was, still managed to leave quite an impact on the world. In fact, I suspect that was all some of them cared about. Going out with a bang.’

Hector thought a moment. “You’ve really known lots of emperors-class servants?”

‘Okay, first off, you’re making it sound a bit more grandiose than it really was. And secondly, it’s not like I was intimately familiar with them all during the height of their power. Most of them, I met when they were younger. Once they got all high-and-mighty, they were usually out of my reach.’

“Usually? But not always.”

‘...No, not always.’

“So you have known some at their strongest.”

‘Yes. And Nykeir, I’d say... hmm. I knew him when he was quite powerful but not at his strongest, probably.’

“And he didn’t leave a favorable impression, from the sound of it.”

‘He did not.’

‘You did, huh?’ said Garovel. ‘Well, uh, that’s neat ‘n all, but still not technically anything new. I’ve already seen Rathmore.’

Hector cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t really what I was--”

‘I’m just sayin’. I asked for a new thing, and you gave me an old thing. A been-there-done-that thing. Kinda disappointed in your weird new memory powers, honestly.’

“Garovel, there was more to it than just that.”

‘That’s good. Because I don’t see how just seeing Rathmore’s face would prove helpful at all.’

“...I actually didn’t see his face.”

‘Say what?’

“The memory was, er... I mean, for some reason, people in the memories were all blurry. Faces included.”

‘Wow, so after all that, you still don’t even know what he looks like?’

“Ah--yeah...”

‘Hah! Your new memory power sucks!’

“What the--?”

‘Garovel’s still on top, baby!’

Hector’s face went flat.

‘Go on, ask me something! See how well I can remember stuff!’

In spite of himself, Hector couldn’t help snickering. “You done?”

‘Not really. Feel like I could gloat for another ten minutes, if I needed to.’

“Can we skip that part? I did actually learn some useful things, I think.”

‘Oh, alright. Out with it, then. Astonish me.’

“Agh--don’t build it up like that. I don’t know if it’s that good!”

‘Okay, okay. My expectations are lowering with each passing second. As usual.’

“As usu--?! Fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

Eventually, they managed to actually discuss the subject in question.

‘Hmm,’ mused Garovel for a long moment. ‘So you saw Anicca and even Nykeir here, too. Interesting.’

“And the giant tentacle monster. Don’t forget that. Turns out that thing really existed, after all.”

‘Yeah, I know. I told you that when I first brought it up. What, you didn’t believe me?’

“I mean... not really, no.”

‘Wow. I’m hurt, Hector. Blindly believing everything I say is part of your sacred duty as a servant, you know.’

“Uh-huh...”

‘Gotta say, though. I wasn’t expecting to learn the truth about Nykeir’s sudden disappearance this way. So in the end, he got devoured by a Yigorosk... And a pretty gnarly one, from the sound of it.’

“Gnarly? Were they not all that powerful?”

‘Of course not. Nykeir was probably the strongest servant alive at that time. A normal Yigorosk shouldn’t have been able to touch him. Frankly, while I do find that son of bitch’s death hilarious and well-deserved, I also find this information rather terrifying. A Yigorosk that strong is, uh... not a pleasant thought, given everything else I know about them.’

In fact, given the relatively close proximity to Warrenhold, Hector began to further wonder if his castle might have some tangential relation to these monuments. Voreese might know more, given that she was Stasya Orlov’s reaper, but from the way that Voreese had talked about her before, Hector had a feeling that the reaper wouldn’t be able to provide many new details. It seemed like, even now, Stasya was still something of a mystery to Voreese.

And as he recalled, Stasya was herself a descendant of the Nykeirian people.

Which was a crazy thing to think about. This fucking prick that had been making Rathmore’s life hell had been such an important historical figure? It felt hard to acknowledge that as even possible, let alone true.

According to Voreese, though, Stasya had not actually been born until after the collapse of the Nykeirian Empire. She’d been “a product of the Mohssian culture,” as the reaper had put it.

Whew. He was feeling a little woozy, all of a sudden. Perhaps he needed a break from this weird-ass memory-diving. And so much the better, since it seemed like he’d reached the end of this memory, anyway.

He opened his eyes again, felt breath in his lungs again, felt his whole body again.

And felt even more woozy, actually, enough to make him stumble backward and fall on his ass.

‘Hector!’ came Garovel’s voice.

Hector had to shake his head a few times before the ground beneath him finally stopped spinning. “Hey, Garovel...”

The reaper gave a silent sigh. ‘Geez. You were gone for quite a while there, buddy. Startin’ to make me worry you’d slipped into another soul coma. I was getting ready to just sit here like an asshole for two weeks, watching you.’

“Ah. Uh. Yeah, sorry about that...” He took his time climbing back to his feet, still feeling a bit drained, like he’d just gotten done with a full body workout. “How long was I out?”

‘A few hours, I think.’

He straightened. “Hours?!”

‘Yeah. Didn’t feel like that for you, I take it?’

“No!”

‘Hmm. Did it feel shorter or longer?’

“I mean, uh--” He had to think about that for a second. “Shit. I only looked at, like, two memories...”

‘So shorter, then.’

“Ugh. I guess I should be more careful about doing that again in the future. I didn’t intend to spend so much time on this.”

‘Well, did you at least learn something new?’

Hector looked at the reaper. “I saw Rathmore.”

The scene went dead quiet after that, to the point that Hector wondered if that was the end. Everything in sight was silent and still, including Rathmore, who merely stood there, staring at the Gate through which Nykeir had just vanished.

Wait a minute. Had this guy just yelled “Yigorosk?” Hector hadn’t forgotten that name. He still, unfortunately, remembered researching it. A yigorosk was supposed to be mythical creature, infamous for its ooze and tentacles, among other things.

But then... this memory would mean...

Ugh. Hector did not appreciate this kind of confirmation.

At length, Rathmore moved again. He tossed something up into the air and caught it again, then let out a small laugh.

Hector froze the memory there, wanting to get a better look at the object in his hand. Had he had it on him the whole time? Or had he pulled it out of the rubble earlier? Nykeir had seemed quite confident nothing could have survived the forge’s destruction, so what could possibly have--

Ah. Hector recognized the object instantly. A small black pyramid with protrusions on some of its sides.

A Kag. A type of ancient key. He’d seen one just like it back in Himmekel.

Come to think of it, that Kag had been what brought them to the treasure they’d been seeking--and to Malast.

Huh.

Wow. Suddenly, this seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. Like he should have been looking for a Kag all along.

But hold on here. It wasn’t that simple, was it? The Kag in Himmekel had actually been used like a proper key. Diego Redwater had slotted it into a monument--one not unlike the Gate here. But Rathmore, from what Hector had just seen, had not slotted this Kag into anything. Instead, the guy seemed to have just magically activated it in his hand.

That was quite a difference. Hmm.

He rewound the memory in order to check more closely on what Rathmore had been up to when he’d been digging. The man’s blurry hands didn’t make it easy, but eventually, Hector spotted it. A moment where Rathmore did indeed appear to pull something out of the debris.

Yes.

While the forge and everything else in the area had been annihilated, the Gate was not actually the lone survivor. The Kag had endured, too.

Damn. Did that mean these things were made out of the same stuff as the rest of Rathmore’s Materials? Hell, they kinda looked like nightrock, now that Hector was thinking about it, which made him wonder if that was a coincidence.

Rathmore breathed deeply and took a step closer. “Lucky am I that you have become such an arrogant, careless fool. Never could I have accomplished this when you were younger.”

Nykeir straightened. “Accomplished what?”

“Curious, are you?” said Rathmore, raising one hand slowly, palm upwards. “Or merely frightened?”

The other man gave an audible sniff. “Go on, Seer. Stupefy me, then. Show me what your Heavenly Sight has seen.”

“I can grant you but a glimpse. ‘Twill be up to you to see anything beyond.”

“Hmph.”

Rathmore’s hand tensed suddenly. “Now, Behold!”

Light gathered into his hand, then burst forth, shooting toward Nykeir and enveloping him.

It clashed against a wall of yellow flame, with Nykeir remaining comfortably in the center, apparently unbothered about being entirely consumed by fire.

“Tell me this is not all,” said Nykeir, his voice distorting from behind the inferno, sounding lower and almost monstrous, as if the flames themselves might be speaking for him.

But indeed, that was not all. Because the light still enveloped the flames, and then bounded backward to the Gate, first touching the smaller rock, then connecting to the larger one. The beam stayed there, bright and strong, linking Rathmore to Nykeir, and Nykeir to the stones.

“Yigorosk!” said Rathmore.

And Hector blinked, in complete disbelief of what he was seeing.

A gargantuan tentacle shot out of the Gate, appearing from the shimmering line of light between two rocks and arcing over Rathmore’s head to slam down on top of Nykeir.

The ground exploded from the impact, filling the area with a cloud of dirt and debris, and Hector had to wait for it to clear. When it did, he saw Nykeir still there, standing within the fire and light, a massive hole burned into the tentacle where it fell upon him.

From his body language, he seemed a bit confused but not terribly concerned. Then he started laughing. “What in the world is this?!” he said happily.

Rather than answering, the light from Rathmore’s hand shone even more intensely, and the burned tentacle shivered and melted into a bluish ooze, which splashed over Nykeir, coating him entirely. The yellow flame and even the light surrounding it were both smothered.

And the tentacle reformed, yanking itself back through the Gate, whereupon it winked out of existence, taking all remaining traces of the light beam with it.

“Have I?” said Rathmore, sounding mildly curious, though more haggard than anything. “So after all is said and done, you do value my opinion.”

“Hah. Of course. I should think that obvious by now.”

“The only obvious thing is that you take great joy in belittling me and my work.”

“Oh? Perhaps so. But what should that matter, if you are the genius that everyone says you are? A truly great man would not be bothered by any of my playful jabs, surely.”

Rathmore stepped toward the Gate. “When the most powerful man in the world makes it his life’s mission to ruin my own, what is there to be done? Tell me, O, Nykeir the Great. In what ways have I erred in my dealings with you? What other paths might I have taken and when? Please, be quite specific.”

“You are sounding rather bitter, my friend.”

“And you are sounding rather predictable.”

“Am I? What shall I say next, then?”

“Something either self-congratulatory or derisive of me, I’m sure.”

Nykeir chortled. “I shall have to mix things up, then. I do so hate being predictable.”

Rathmore placed his hand against the Gate, saying nothing.

“Here, allow me to administer a well-earned compliment. Of the two reasons I brought you to this place, one of them was to have you tell me what you know of these monoliths.”

“In what capacity does that qualify as a compliment?”

“You do not see? Because I am wondering if you may know something that I do not! The most flattering of notions, no?”

“You sicken me, madman.”

Nykeir scoffed. “Biting words--and wholly undeserved. Please, my friend. You must have learned something of these things during your time with them. Else you would not have been able to alter them as you have.”

Rathmore turned to look at him again. “Yes,” he said, suddenly confident. “I did learn of them. Many things, in truth. And that is knowledge you shall never possess.”

“Oh, do not be so quick to say so. If you tell me, I shall let you live.”

“You will let me live, regardless.”

“Hmm-hmm, you believe so?”

“Yes. Because of the other reason you brought me here. I have realized what it is.”

“Heh. Speak it, then.”

“You want to watch me suffer. You brought me so that I would see my work undone. My time and energy, wasted. And at your hands, naturally.”

Nykeir was silent for a few moments. Then somehow, Hector felt like he could see a smile appear on that blurry face of his. “I shan’t deny it.”

When the fire finally died all the way back down, it was as expected. Aside from the Gate itself, only mounds of ash remained, which were already beginning to blow away in the wind.

Disappointed, Hector thought this might already be the end of the memory. No new information to be gleaned.

Then two figures stepped into view, one of whom was stumbling forward, as if having been pushed.

They were both blurry, just as before, but he did not have long to wait in order to begin learning their identities.

“Rathmore, Rathmore, Rathmore,” said the more composed one, sounding almost pitying. “See what has become of all your tireless work.”

Rathmore had fallen to his hands and knees and was struggling to stand.

“The worst is to know that this could have been avoided,” said the composed man, stepping closer. “If you had but listened. Accepted my terms. But no. You were in love, I suppose. And for that, I am possessed of a morsel of sympathy.” He broke for a laugh. “Never have I known a fortress more impenetrable to the sieges of reason.”

Finally on his feet again, Rathmore still wasn’t answering. Instead, he’d begun sifting through the smoldering heap of dust, leaving fleeting clouds in his wake.

“Looking for something? I left nothing to find. Apart from that lone monolith. Quite the irritants, these Materials of yours. Or was it Tools? Which name was it again?”

Rathmore ignored him and just kept digging.

“You are wasting your time, my friend. I promise you that I was quite thorough. Ah, but perhaps you wonder how I am so certain. It is because I have already visited several of these other sites. This may be the first time you are present for it, but it is not my first time doing this. Hah. For a man heralded as a genius, these constructs of yours were all surprisingly similar in how primitive they were. Hardly even worth calling forges, in my view. I made sure to burn the heart and roots out of each and every one.”

Rathmore’s hands stopped moving, and he slumped down onto his knees again. “Why bring me here?”

“Aha. Glad am I that you have asked. Two reasons, truth be told. But they are... conflicting, now that I am thinking on it. Hmm.” The man scratched his head. “Alas, perhaps you have made me somewhat unreasonable, myself.”

“You would ask me to forget what Nykeir has done to my family? That man deserves a slow, sunless death without mercy or hope.”

“Aye, that he does. But you do not deserve to waste your life in the miserable pursuit of him.”

At that, she turned away and made no response.

“At this point, ‘tis a matter of mere pragmatism. You must realize this, my dear. On some level, you must. You have acquired much of the influence that you might have once inherited, but Nykeir’s kingdom is no longer the fledgling power that it was when he conquered your home. He is among the most powerful men on the continent. Perhaps the world, even. There is no victory for you against him. And even if there was, there is no kingdom to reclaim. Better to focus on defending what you now have, rather than risking it all to take back what once was.”

After that, the memory fragmented--but it didn’t quite break down entirely. Hector could see that the conversation between the two was continuing. He just couldn’t make out what they were saying. It felt like there was more here. He thought he could sense it, somehow. But then everything seemed to speed up and fade away, disappearing into a fog.

Damn. He supposed that was still pretty informative, but he’d really felt like--

Wait a minute. No. There was something more here. Another memory. Linked to that one. How? By time? By the people?

He found it.

The scene that appeared before him one of utter devastation. Pillars of flame shot up into the air, roaring with such intensity that he could almost feel them. Red and orange filled his view, blanketing the Gate in its entirety.

So it was as he’d thought, then. He was convinced. That giant thing had indeed been a Fusion Forge, and this memory here was its destruction.

How had it happened, though? Why was the memory starting off like this? Shouldn’t it have begun earlier? With a bit of context or something? He tried rewinding, but it didn’t work. Whether that was because the memory itself was incomplete or because he simply wasn’t doing it right, Hector couldn’t quite tell.

Until he tried fast forwarding, instead. That worked like a charm. The flames raged higher and higher, seeming to reach all the way into the sky, before eventually beginning to dissipate. Hector had no concept of how long it might’ve taken. These couldn’t have been normal flames, surely, if they’d been able to destroy a forge.

Rathmore continued on, mumbling low enough that Hector couldn’t hear what he was saying.

After a short time, Anicca stepped closer to the Gate. “You are getting lost in your own musings again,” she said firmly. “Rein that wandering mind of yours in, please.”

Rathmore stopped and looked at her. Hector wished he could see the expression on the man’s blurry face. Given how wildly Rathmore’s mood had shifted, Hector wondered if he would get upset with her again or become even more timid.

Anicca left him an opening to respond, but when he didn’t, she spoke up again. “How will any of this help me to reclaim my birthright?” she said. “I’ve granted you the resources you asked for. I’ve bestowed titles and land to you. I’ve given you influence of your own within my court. And yet the years continue to draw on with no destination in sight. No path to my crown.”

“You have a crown.”

“Not the crown of my mother. Not the one that was stolen from me.”

Rathmore scoffed. “Even now, you cling to this idea of vengeance? After all we have built together?”

“What have we built? A palatable place to hide and die in? A little corner of the world to call mine, only because none else know to claim it? You speak of nothing. Empty lands and hollow words.”

“And you speak of greed and ingratitude. What you have is more than most in the world, and yet it is not enough for you. Nor will it be, ‘till you have brought ruin to it all and perhaps finally realized your own foolishness.”

“Again, you speak out of turn.”

“Because again, you push me when you should not. You do not make it easy to love you, dearheart.”

Anicca said nothing.

“You say I speak of empty lands and hollow words? That is your old crown. Nykeir has made it so. There is nothing to reclaim. It has been too long. Your people will not rejoice upon your return. They did not fight for you. They did not weep at news of your death. They do not care. And why should they? You were little more than a babe, hardly out of your swaddling clothes.”

She turned and walked over to Rathmore, right up to his face, and slapped him.

Rathmore just took it.

“Yours are craven words,” she said, sounding not just bitter but almost tearful, too. “Repeating such lies. Why? Cruelty ill suits you.”

“If you think that was cruelty, dearheart, then you truly have learned nothing of the world, even after all this time.”

At length, Hector decided that he wanted the memory to resume, but since he still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to pause it in the first place, he didn’t know how to make it continue. He floundered for a bit, searching up and down and all around him, as if he might perhaps find a hidden button somewhere that he could press.

Thankfully, though, it soon started back up on its own. Or had that been his doing, too? Yeah, it probably was, huh? He didn’t see how anyone else could’ve been responsible for something that was occurring his very own mind. Other than maybe Rasalased. But he didn’t sense the Dry God anywhere, right now.

The apparent queen was now quiet, perhaps thinking twice about saying something to further antagonize Rathmore. And Hector couldn’t help feeling rather anxious for her. Rathmore didn’t exactly seem like the nicest guy so far. He wasn’t about to kill this woman, was he?

For a time, the blurry Rathmore seemed to just be staring at her, but eventually, he took a deep breath, rubbed his face with one hand, then exhaled a heavy sigh. “...Apologies, dearheart. I seem to have... overreacted.”

“‘Tis unlike you to speak to me so.”

“Yes, I... let emotion get the rule of me. I suppose I was more frustrated with my results than I realized. Please forgive me, Anicca.”

“Hmm. I shall have to think on it.”

“Anicca, please...”

“Tell me again why this monument confounds you so. I recall you mentioning before that you believe it to be some manner of gateway, yes?”

“Ah...” Rathmore turned away from her to look at the Gate again. “Belief has no bearing on it. It is a gateway. And so much more than that, as well. In truth, calling it a mere gateway may be doing it a disservice.”

“You know this how?”

“I can see it. The full breadth of its divine form and heavenly function. No doubt, when you think of a gateway, you think of a simple threshold which marks the passage of one area into another, but this monument... it can bend those areas as it pleases. It can make them overlap. Or distort. Twist them up and down. Turn them bright and beautiful. Or dark and ugly. Or perhaps something else entirely. Perhaps a ‘bridge’ might be a more apt term for it, in some sense. Ah, no, but even that will not do, naturally... what then... hrm...?”

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