4. Sarilian #2
“Sacrifice might not be a Dusk Virtue, but this war is all of ours.” Sarilian thought of Faeris’ casual insult and the others’ laughter, determination straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “Celestial, Infernal, it doesn’t matter. It is everyone’s duty to fight.”
“Why?”
The question gave Sarilian pause. “To protect the Mortal Realm,” he said at last.
Malorg gave another bitter chuckle that set Sarilian’s teeth on edge. “Sure, that’s what we’re told—uphold the Covenant by fending off the Void. But why? Tell me, Celestial, what has the Mortal Realm ever done to deserve my protection?”
“My name is Sarilian.” Malorg shrugged as though it didn’t matter, and Sarilian forced a deep breath before continuing. “And it’s not a question of who deserves what. We chose this life when we pledged our mortal souls to the Covenant.”
Malorg’s amused face stood in sharp contrast to the anguish in his eyes. “Did we?”
Sarilian frowned. The abrupt shift in topic left him reeling, feeling like he stood on uncertain footing. “Of course, we did. That’s why our souls came to the Immortal Realm instead of passing on to the Great Beyond like everyone else’s.”
“There are myriad ways a soul can end up here.” A shadowy dagger appeared in Malorg’s grip. With practiced ease, he made it dance between his fingers. “Perhaps I once believed in the Covenant enough to pledge my soul. Perhaps I was even eager to serve.”
In a sudden flurry of motion, he hurled the dagger at the nearest tree.
It careened into the trunk and hung there, embedded deep in the shifting gray bark.
“Or perhaps I desired power and cared little at the cost. Perhaps I struck a bargain with an Infernal soul collector, trading my servitude for a boon. Perhaps a warlock ripped my soul from my flesh against my will. Or perhaps I simply made a mistake—one I could never take back.”
With each new possibility, Malorg conjured and loosed another blade until a half-dozen bristled in the tree trunk.
He spun toward Sarilian, his face contorted in a grimace.
“With our mortal memories stripped from us, there’s no way to know for certain.
But the harsher truth is that it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter why I’m here—what reason, noble or misguided, led me on this path—because either way, I’m trapped, same as you.
And since the Void can never be beaten, our only choices are to die now or die later. ”
Malorg bowed his head, his voice becoming a barely audible whisper. “Perhaps it is for the best if the Void wins and consumes us all. At least then, this endless cycle will be broken.”
Merciful Light. Sarilian struggled to sort through his conflicted emotions at the deluge Malorg had unleashed on him. While he was glad to have breached the Infernal’s walls, what he’d found underneath was no less distressing.
He’s lost hope, he thought, watching Malorg recompose himself. And without it, he sees no path forward. There had to be a way to help, like Malorg had aided him against those voidspawn. Malorg deserved better than to waste away beneath centuries of regret.
An idea flickered at the corners of Sarilian’s mind, impossibly bold. “There’s another way to break the cycle,” he said, watching closely for Malorg’s reaction. “We win.”
Triumph gripped Sarilian when Malorg looked up sharply, his wide eyes boring into Sarilian’s like he wanted desperately to believe. Then, his lips narrowed to a thin line.
“Impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “The Void is eternal. No matter what we do, it will always return. Even that void god I killed is still out there, reconstituting itself to invade again. We can’t defeat it.”
“Maybe not.” Sarilian held out his hand. “But we shouldn’t have been able to combine our magics the way we did, either. Perhaps together, we’ll find a way to do the impossible.”
Malorg stared at Sarilian’s hand like it was a voidspawn poised to attack.
Sarilian held his breath, praying he hadn’t miscalculated.
Relief warmed his skin when Malorg gripped his proffered hand even as the physical contact sent a chill racing through him.
Whether anything came of his brash promise was irrelevant.
The important thing was that he’d given Malorg something new to hold onto.
They locked gazes, Sarilian caught in the eddies of Malorg’s tempestuous eyes. I could drown in those stormy depths, he thought dazedly. And remain content even as I sank beneath the waves.
Malorg looked away first, dropping Sarilian’s hand and shuffling back. For the first time since Sarilian had met him, he appeared uncertain. “So, what now?”
Sarilian glanced toward the border. With Malorg’s darkvision enchantment, he had to squint against the bright light. His respect for what Malorg had endured coming to his aid ratcheted up another notch. “My companions will be looking for me soon, if they aren’t already.”
He gave Malorg a smile laced with regret, feeling like there was so much more he wished to say but didn’t have the words for. At least, he’d managed to satisfy some of his curiosity…and with any luck, restored some of Malorg’s hope in the process. That alone would have made this trip worth it.
“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” Malorg said.
Neither of them moved. Sarilian chuckled breathlessly to release some of the awkward tension buzzing between them.
“Well, it was good to see you again, Malorg.” He made one final survey of the Dusklands, doing his best to memorize the entrancing play of overlapping patterns.
“Thank you for opening my eyes. I hope that I—”
“Do you want to see more?” Malorg blurted.
Sarilian paused, raising a brow as his pulse quickened. “What, uh, what do you mean?”
Malorg shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “If you return, I can show you more of the Dusklands…if you want.”
Excitement buzzed through Sarilian at the thought of exploring more of this strange realm…
and the equally strange Infernal that had drawn him here.
“Yes!” He cleared his throat, grateful his bronzed Celestial skin couldn’t blush.
“I mean, that sounds lovely. I have to finish my current patrol, and then I have a scheduled gate incursion, but I could meet you here in two days?”
Malorg shrugged again, though Sarilian didn’t miss the subtle curl of his lips along the edges.
Sarilian returned the smile uncertainly.
“All right, then. Until we…” He trailed off as Malorg dispersed into a bundle of shadows that flitted across the ground, almost too swift for his gaze to track.
In the blink of an eye, the Infernal was gone, vanishing deeper into the forest. “…meet again,” he finished, shaking his head.
He turned toward the border. As he crossed into the Dawnlands, however, all he could think of was Malorg’s reluctant smile and the icy press of his palm. Sarilian might be an Immortal, but two days suddenly seemed like an eternity.