The Tears of Kas̆dael

When they got out to the stables, Ihra had to help him up onto Dapplegrim. The little horse whinnied in delight when he approached, nudging her head into him in a search for sugar cubes.

Jasper laughed and gently pushed her head aside. “Sorry, Dapple, I don’t have any on me right now.” He tousled her maned. “Next time, okay?” He could swear he saw the pony nod her head as he dragged himself into the saddle.

The ride to the elven enclave was almost two hours long, and Jasper soon realized he had overestimated his strength. They had to take several long breaks for him to recuperate before they finally arrived at Aphora’s residence. The city streets were still mostly deserted, but, here and there, a few brave souls were beginning to venture out from their homes. When they rode through the main marketplace, a handful of merchants and hot-food vendors had even set up shop. The signs of life were reassuring; the city had weathered the storm.

When they finally reached the enclave, the walls opened up as soon as they dismounted from their horses. The elven man that had taken Aphora when she was injured was there to greet them, inclined his head to the left in the traditional gesture of respect. “Guilders Jasper and Ihra - thank you for coming. Follow me.”

The elf turned and strode down the hall with a quick and steady stride, but he soon turned back, with more than a hint of impatience, as Jasper struggled to keep up. But when the elf saw Jasper leaning against the wall, his breath coming fast and heavy, his annoyance quickly faded away, replaced by concern. “You should have told me you were suffering from resurrection sickness." He gestured at Jasper's red skin. "Normally, those with resurrection sickness are, well, a bit paler, so I didn't notice the signs. Here, let me help.”

Jasper started to wave away the elf's apologies "No need-" His speech turned into a garbled shout as he suddenly found himself swept up in the elf’s arms and carted off down the hall, princess-style. He blushed in embarrassment, which turned to mortification when he saw the laughter in Ihra’s eyes. Damn it. He struggled, albeit futilely, in the elf's grasp. “I really don’t need to be carried. Just put me down, and I'll make it down the hall.” Eventually.

“Nonsense. There’s no need to push yourself unnecessarily after death. Ideally, you’d rest for at least a week before going back out into the field, although, with the current situation, that may not be possible. But for now, you can let me help you.”

The man looked down at Jasper, whose already red cheeks had blushed an even deeper scarlet. “Believe me, I've been where you were. Dying is humiliating and scary, and then you come back and your body's weak and helpless. I know you don't want help, but it is foolish to refuse it."

"Besides, it could be worse. I died on an expedition a century ago, and when I came back, Aphora insisted on carrying me around for the next month, before I finally convinced her that I was okay. It took another two months before she would allow me to leave the enclave on my own. Now that was embarrassing - Torin the Undying getting carried around by the princess when I was fully recovered. But you are clearly freshly returned. There’s no shame in accepting help.”

The elf turned down another corridor and stopped in front of a door. He gently set Jasper down. Jasper swayed on his feet a little, but quickly steadied himself, holding himself rigid with pride. He knew Torin was probably right, but his pride was still wounded, and Ihra's obvious amusement really was the salt in that wound. Torin knocked on the door, and, not waiting for a response, let them in.

It was not the reception hall from their first trip. Instead, as Jasper’s eyes swept across the room, he realized they were probably in Aphora’s suite. She sat at a desk near them, her eyes trained on a window that looked out over the mystical lake. She seemed startled when they walked in, an unreadable expression flickering through her eyes, but quickly smoothed her face. “Thank you, Torin. You can stay, if you want.” The tall elf nodded and took a seat.

She turned to Ihra and Jasper. “I’m glad to see you both survived.” Her eyes lingered on the scar on his neck, and she frowned. “I see you met my mother."

He winced. "Well, she met me anyways. Can't say I actually saw her myself." He frowned. "But we're not here for pleasantries, I assume. What do you want?"

Aphora sighed. “I know things in Als̆arratu went….poorly. I see now that I was wrong. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I hope you can forgive me someday.”

“But to the point at hand - based on the scouting reports from my people, it seems that my mother is marching against Hargish, not Ikkarim. I know the guild wants to march after her, but the lord of the city is pressuring them to stay. I can’t exactly blame him. Gis̆-Izum is isolated from the rest of Sapiya, and if the guild forces attack the queen and lose, Gis̆-Izum will be left extremely vulnerable. But Hargish is going to be destroyed.”

Her eyes met Jasper’s. “I plan to gather as many of my elves as I can, and go after her. I don’t know if I can stop her, but I have to try. Will you two come with me?”

The room fell silent as Jasper pondered the question. He could see Ihra sneaking furtive glances at him, but she stayed silent, unwilling to speak for him. He knew that the guild at Hargish was not strong enough to repel the invaders - not that the guild deserved saving. His blood still boiled at the thought of their treatment there. But did the whole city deserve to die for the sins of a few?

More importantly, though, he remembered Kas̆dael’s parting words. She had ordered him to assist in stopping the queen and, unfortunately, it didn’t look like the guild in Gis̆-Izum was going to help. Damn it.

Choking back his frustration, he slowly nodded his head. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

Aphora lapsed into silence for a moment, then held up her hand. “I swear by the dying light of the Lady of Morning, by the webs of the Spectral Spiders, by the halls of the Victorious Dead, I mean you no harm. My only goal is to stop my mother from harming more people.”

The room lit up as her hand glowed, and the voice of a woman filled the room, a voice brimming with the power of unwept tears and endless tides. “Your vow has been acknowledged.”

The light receded from her hand, and the elven maiden slumped back in her chair, her face creased with exhaustion. Jasper turned to Ihra. He knew what she wanted, and despite his lack of faith in Aphora, he also knew what Kas̆dael would want. He rubbed his forehead, heaving an exasperated sigh. “I guess, for the time being, our path lies with you.”

If Aphora was happy with his words, she carefully hid it, just nodding solemnly. “Thank you.”

But Jasper still had another concern. “They just come back to life when we kill them, don’t they? Can we even stop the queen, in the long run?”

Aphora stared pensively at her lap, before slowly nodding her head. “I believe we can. Those of us who survived the first ritual without turning into monsters didn’t go unchanged.” Her eyes fell on the small nubs rising from Ihra’s head. “We kept our minds and bodies intact, but we became undying, just like them. But something changed when the city fell from the void the second time. I felt the difference immediately. I believe that connection that tied us to the void was severed.” Her eyes burned with the light of hope. “So, yes, I believe that if we can kill her, she will truly die.”

She drew something out of her desk and tossed it at him. Startled, he snatched the object out of the air. A thin gold chain dangled between his fingers. Suspended at the end, a large ruby twinkled in the light. “Put the necklace on. Given the vitality of your soul, your resurrection sickness will pass faster than most, but this should dramatically ease your side effects.”

His fingers fumbled to latch the necklace behind his neck, finally managing to secure the small clasp. As the ruby landed on his chest, he felt a thin but constant stream of essence seep into his body. In a manner of minutes, he began to feel, while not exactly good, at least human again. Begrudgingly, he thanked Aphora, but she waved his thanks away. "It is a Djinn bauble that is of little use to me; I'm glad it works on you."

“Now, I’ve already sent a summons to my elves. Most live in the forests and mountains to the west of the city, so we will meet them further down the road, near Khiryat.” She looked up. “I believe Torin promised you a reward for bringing me back after my mother…” she trailed off with a visible shudder. Composing herself, she continued. “We’ve already arranged a few gifts. Hopefully, you’ll find them pleasing. I’ll have Torin take you to them in a moment, but first, Torin, Jasper, do you mind stepping outside for a moment? I need to talk to Ihra alone.”

Ihra shrunk back in her chair as the two men left the room. She jumped when the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them with a bang. Aphora eyed her silently for a moment while Ihra squirmed. At last, Aphora spoke. “So, the horns.”

Ihra finally found her voice. “What about them?”

Aphora, in a shockingly unelflike fashion, rolled her eyes. “I admit, I was rather focused on Jasper during the expedition, but I'm fairly certain I don't recall you having horns. As far as I could tell, your elven heritage was not particularly strong. Did your parents have horns?”

“No…” Ihra reluctantly ground out.

Her heartbeat quickened as Aphora rose from her chair and, moving almost faster than sight, appeared before her. Her eyes were dragged, unwillingly, into the orbit of Aphora’s eyes, which glowed with a soft lunar light. She shuddered, feeling utterly exposed, beneath the cold gaze of the moon. And then the light faded from her eyes, and Aphora shrunk back.

“I’m sorry, child, but I had to be sure the madness didn’t have a grip on you. Fortunately, your mind seems clear. Less fortunately, it seems you were changed in the same way I was changed.” Aphora sunk back into her chair, a perplexed frown on her face. “Judging by the growing horns on your head, your elven heritage must have been enhanced in some way, strengthened. Assuming you’re affected the same as us, you’re effectively immortal.”

Ihra leaned forward, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Immortal? That doesn’t sound too terrible.”

Aphora grimaced. “Unfortunately, the reality is more complicated than that. Your body is still as mortal as any other, but when you die, you will not go where the others go - you will find yourself in the void that consumed Als̆arratu, albeit not within the city. Your soul will be in no danger of destruction from the Sea of Oblivion there, and you won’t need to bargain with any gods to be resurrected but” she paused, her voice dropping to barely more than a whisper, “the void is a very unpleasant place.”

“I’ve been there a few times - most of us have - over the years. There is no life there, no place to lay your head, no food to fill your belly. The skies above are filled with madness, an unending lunacy that threatens to overwhelm your soul if you look too deeply into its depths. Time flows strangely there and you will feel like you have spent months alone in the endless darkness. You may be immortal, but I assure you, you don’t want to die.” She stared out the window, a haunted look on her face. “Many of my kin have come back a shell of who they once were, the madness eating away at their mind.”

Goose bumps covered Ihra’s skin, as she remembered the skies above Als̆arratu, a sick feeling creeping into her stomach. Just one night had been disturbing; she couldn’t even imagine spending months there. “What should I do?” she croaked out, her mouth suddenly dry as a desert.

Aphora didn’t respond, her gaze still fixed on the placid lake outside the window.

“Aphora, what should I do?” Ihra persisted.

The elf shook her head. “That is a question you’ll have to answer for yourself. It is both a gift and a curse, but you need to ask yourself what you want. If you continue adventuring with Jasper, sooner or later you will die. Jasper’s goddess has a heavy hand on him, and he will not have a safe life. You will die and you will have to face the eldritch void, but you’re also guaranteed to come back.”

“Or, you can retire and live a fairly safe existence in a town, never risking your life. Of course, with the war in the east and the rising threats in the west, there is no guarantee that you’ll be able to escape danger indefinitely. You might find yourself facing a threat you’re too weak to resist. But ultimately, Ihra, the choice is yours.”

Aphora sighed. “I’m sorry, Ihra, but I’m feeling rather shaken up at the moment. The void is one of those memories you lock away in your mind, and try not to think about it. I need a few minutes to compose myself. Why don’t you join Torin for now, and see your gifts?”

Ihra stood up, feeling rather numb inside. As she exited the room, Aphora’s words rang in her ears. What do you want? Despite the fear clutching at her heart, she already knew the answer. She’d rather face the void than go back to being alone again.