Ghost Ascension, Episode 26a

You try to fling the Bloodcrystal away

And you can’t.

You can’t make yourself let go of it.

The roar of a million heartbeats fills your ears. The green flame erupting from the Bloodcrystal grows brighter, the imprecations of the voices in your head more strident, more pleading. You can’t stop yourself, in the way that a man dying of thirst cannot stop himself from drinking seawater. The Bloodcrystal will kill everyone in Malarae, and you cannot stop it. And would that be so bad? The voices whisper how you can use the power to burn the old world to ashes and rebuild it anew…

Your resistance starts give way.

You stagger, collapsing against the broken railing. Strange. It’s only been a few heartbeats since Sophia threw the Bloodcrystal at you, yet it feels like a thousand years. You see her corpse at your feet, see Lucan stepping towards you, face grim with alarm and fear…

Lucan.

He’s real. What you have with him is real. The Bloodcrystal’s promises are only fantasies built upon the deaths of countless innocents.

You can’t make yourself let go of the Bloodcrystal. But you can still move your free hand. You reach out, seize the wrist of Lucan’s sword hand, and yank him towards you.

Smashing the ghostsilver sword against the Bloodcrystal in your other hand.

The voices howl in rage.

The Ascendant Bloodcrystal shivers in your hand, and then shatters. An explosion of green flame fills the world, and everything goes black.

Some time later you wake up.

Your head aches terribly, and your stomach writhes and clenches. Just as well you haven’t had time to eat anything today.

But the inside of your head is mercifully silent. The voices are gone.

Your look down at your left hand. All that remains of the Ascendant Bloodcrystal is a handful of gritty black ash, and even as you look, the wind scatters it across the marble flooring.

Lucan helps you sit up.

“You’re alive,” he says.

“I…think so,” you say. “The voices are gone.”

“They are?”

You nod. “They had nothing to do with Korthion. It was the Bloodcrystal. It…wanted me to use it. And I don’t think…I don’t think I could have stopped myself.” You let out a long breath. “I’m very glad you stayed.”

Lucan’s fingers close about yours as he helps you to stand. “So am I.”

#

ARK returned to work at the foundry, and to his secret work with the Ghosts. Caina dreaded calling upon him – someday she would get him killed, leave his wife a widow and his children orphans.

But when she needed him, she would call upon him anyway.

KORTHION’S (second) death embarrassed the Magisterium greatly. It was bad enough that one magus had practiced the forbidden arcane science of necromancy (or at least had gotten caught) but that he had returned and threatened to run amok? Unacceptable.

Finally, the Magisterium issued a proclamation praising SCARPIAN’S valor, describing how he had laid down his life to defend the innocent people of the Empire from Korthion’s threat. This was proof, the high magi argued, that perhaps the Magisterium should take a greater role in the governance of the Empire.

ANACEPHEON felt the destruction of the Ascendant Bloodcrystal. His life force, so long linked to his greatest creation and greatest mistake, started to drain away at once.

He sobbed in relief.  At last, at long last, his endless torment was over.

Preoccupied with the Bloodcrystal, neither Caina nor Lucan noticed the dark form, like a hooded shadow, rise from SOPHIA’S corpse and flee to the south.

A few years later, rumors filled the city of Istarinmul. Nikaedes had returned from the north, they said, bearing his blade of hellish bronze, and slaying neither for pride nor for money but the love of some demented art.

But so long as Caina Amalas lived, Nikaedes never dared return to Malarae or the Empire of Nighmar.

#

Four days later, you open the door to Lucan Maraeus’s rooms at the Black Cuirass Inn.

“Caina,” he says, looking up from the book in his hand. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You nod. “I was busy. There were things that needed handling, after the mess that Scarpian made.”

“I know,” says Lucan, getting to his feet. “But…I thought you might not want to be found.”

You say nothing.

“The last time you were here,” says Lucan, “you didn’t remember anything that happened. And after…I thought, well, we were both about to die, and perhaps you’ve changed your mind.”

You stare at him. There are so many things you could tell him. How sooner or later one of your many enemies will catch up to you. How associating with the Ghosts, with you, puts him in danger. How his father Lord Corbould will never, ever approve of you. How you are unable to bear children. Any number of excellent reasons why you should leave without another word, and he should go home to Marsis and let his father find him another wife.

But, then…he knows all that already, doesn’t he? And yet he’s still here.

“Lucan,” you say at last, “I love you, and I…want to remember it, this time.”

And this time, you do.

THE END

(But bonus material to follow!)