Thonis Stroud. Merday, Pisces 13^th, 12:13 AM. 2354 AA. Arroyo Athenaeum (Archives).

The feral magic possessing Sevardin wore his face with a wicked smile, his eyes ablaze with exus.

Thonis kept his distance, despite his bold challenge. An exus-enriched amagia—especially one as skilled as Sevardin Harker—was an incomparable engine of destruction. As unchecked conduits for magic, exus-possessed amagia commanded superhuman strength—heedless to the harm it might cause their bodies—as well as an increased affinity for sorcery and contract magic. Even though Sevardin was out of anima, he might still be able to perform contracts by naturally subduing ambient magic. Not that he needed it to destroy that egregore.

As Thonis considered his options, Sevardin attacked. He closed the distance between them in a blink and threw a jab and a right hook. Thonis barely managed to buffer the blows with his wyrd, and the punches still had enough force to bruise him. The follow up kick to his ribs smashed the air out of his lungs and knocked him sprawling to the floor.

I can’t do anything! Another strike, or a moderately powerful spell, would have been enough to finish him off then and there. But the thing inside him is enjoying this. He’s taking his time.

Thonis hastily negotiated a contract as he pushed himself to his feet, and when he had finished, his body appeared to split into a crowd of eight duplicates. Exus makes you powerful, but it lowers your inhibitions and judgment to a fault. I need to distract him and give myself every advantage I possibly can.

Sevardin raised his right fist, and a long red blade extended from his knuckles as Thonis’ clones circled him. In the space of a breath, Sevardin snapped forward and dispelled two illusions with a single stroke as they tried to lead him astray. Damn. I thought making them incorporeal might have made them more resilient! I’m being too defensive. If I wait, the magic will burn him up from the inside!

Thonis lured Sevardin away with an evasive clone, then stepped forward and launched a powerful punch into Sevardin’s stomach. Thonis’ unassisted bench press record was just over seven hundred pounds. And when assisted by sorcery, he could nearly double that output. He had hoped to wind Sevardin or knock him out cold. Instead the blow merely put him on his back foot, while Thonis’ hand felt an incandescent surge of pain.

He danced away, obscuring himself within his crowd of doubles, and launched another powerful blow at Sevardin’s jaw. Again, it was like boxing a brick wall covered with barbed wire. The punch simply bought Thonis enough time to retreat again, and Sevardin was able to dispel three more illusions with a flurry of slashes and jabs.

Sevardin conjured weapons from thin air the second he needed them—clubs in his palms, blades along his arms, or spikes extending from the tips of his knuckles—and dismissed them the instant he finished his attacks to keep his body free and unencumbered. Apart from his gifts with inherences, Sevardin is an arch generalist. But the magic possessing him has bolstered his gifts with kinetic force.

My worst match up.

People who met Thonis naturally assumed his hulking form was a reflection of his urdic talents. Even amagia often concluded that he would be gifted with kinetic magic, or explosive elemental power, despite the old adage against judging books by their covers. In truth, Thonis was exceptional at abstract magic. Non-kinetic sympathy. Divination. Creating illusions and cutting through the same.

Thonis started working on a more elaborate metaphysical contract as Sevardin cut down the rest of his doubles. And he finished just in time. Thonis’s perception of time seemed to skip a beat, almost like a record scratched in his head, and then he could see ghostly previews of the world around him. It was a solid cast, giving him nearly a full second of foresight. Time magic was a bastard, because the further into the future you looked, the less reliable the readings became. But if I can see him coming, I may have a fighting chance.

Sevardin advanced on Thonis, using sorcerous currents of force to try and catch him with a lethal blow. Each one of his blows smashed divots or gouged deep tracks into the Archive’s tile floor. He’s not playing anymore. I need to fight back, damn it!

Thonis’ divination contract gave him just enough room to outpace Sev, allowing him to launch two quick jabs. Sev’s head rocked back with each blow—sharply enough that Thonis worried he might snap Sev’s neck—but Sev slashed at him again with a three-foot long claw of energy. There wasn’t enough time for Thonis to evade, even with the foresight contract, so he shielded himself with a broad dome of sorcery.

Sevardin’s attack cut through his defenses and left a deep gash in Thonis’ bicep. The pain threw off his rhythm, threatening to end him. Broad domes of force won’t be powerful enough to protect me. I have to sense the vectors of his slashes and channel my wyrd to counter the incoming blows specifically!

Fortunately, Thonis’ prescience allowed him to sense incoming swells of magic as well as movements, and he was able to create focused barriers that specifically targeted incoming attacks. He would have fileted me if I hadn’t specifically hardened my wyrd to counter his sorcerous blades.

Sevardin brought down a vertical slash with the force of a giant’s sword, too quick and far reaching for Thonis to move out of the way. His wyrd nearly buckled beneath the pressure of the blow. It sent a paroxysm from the tips of his fingers to the base of his spine. Damn! I can keep up, but I can’t compete with his output!

Sevardin’s next slash broke through Thonis’s defenses entirely, claiming three fingers on his right hand with one stroke. The immediate sensation—a blasphemous cold at the end of his hand and the paradoxically persistent sensation of absent flesh—was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

But there was no time for horror. Thonis managed to dodge the next slash by pushing himself with sorcery to drop to the floor faster than gravity alone would allow. He rolled to the side and plucked himself back on his feet with more sorcery, dancing on the edge of the fire. A chorus of sirens and devils whispered in his ear, urging him to join them. You are more than this. And if you continue to restrain yourself, you will die.

Sevardin went in for the kill with a thrust. By the grace of his foresight, Thonis managed to sidestep being impaled. He snatched Sevardin’s wrist with his left hand, and threw him to the ground. Before Sevardin could counter, Thonis followed him to the ground, planting his ruined right hand on Sevardin’s face. Only Thonis’ thumb and index finger were there to claim purchase, and the pain from his blooded stumps was nearly enough to make him pass out.

He channeled that pain, and the remaining strength in his wyrd, to cast a sedative contract with his last remaining animus.

If this isn’t enough, we both die.

If I go into exus, we both die.

So this must work.

To empower the animus, Thonis offered up the remains of his right hand and funneled all of his power into his palm.

“You are Sevardin Harker!!” Thonis bellowed. “You are not a puppet or tool! Fight it, Sevardin! I need your help, or we both die!”

A tidal flow of energy coursed through Thonis’ palm. If Sevardin wasn’t bolstered by exus, the spell would have killed him twice over. But as it was, the sedative surge was just powerful enough to knock him out. As the contract snapped to completion, Thonis’ hand abruptly desiccated, losing all color and sensation. It became rigid and hopelessly brittle around Sevardin’s face. And as Thonis reflexively tried to pull his hand away, he watched it crack and crumble into ashes. Mercifully, the disintegration stopped at his wrist joint and left only a cauterized stump.

Well, at least I won’t bleed out.

Thonis started laughing deliriously. He looked from his stump to Sevardin, probing his wyrd. It was faint, but stable. His friend was still alive. We are both still alive. A hand is a trifle in the face of such triumph. He continued quaking with laughter until he began to hyperventilate.

Finally, he rolled off of Harker’s body and onto his back, staring up at the top of the spire. Smoke continued to plume from the volumes. There is work yet to be done… But Thonis succumbed to exhaustion.

— Sevardin Harker. Jovday, Pisces 15^th, 12:48 PM. Arroyo (Remington Memorial Hospital) —

“Easy, tiger. You awake? You with me?”

A young Hispanic woman in the white robes of a medisoph knelt over Sevardin. He nodded at her question, and realized his family stood at the foot of his hospital bed. His mother and father, Aminima and Svon Harker, held each other, while his sister Galnea clasped her hands to her chest.

“Do you remember your name?” The soph prodded.

“Sevardin Harker,” he said.

“Do you know what day it is? Or what year?”

“It’s 2354. As for day…”

He tried to think back. The fire. The Archives. Jecia. Juel. Stroud. It came back in a rush. The soph sensed the change in his energies, the yawning terror on his expression. She deftly slid a sedative contract into his wyrd.

“Easy. Easy,” she said. “You went deep into exus while you were in the Archives.”

“I remember,” Sev tried to say, though his lips were sluggish. “What—what happened to my partners?”

The soph nodded and emanated understanding, gesturing for him to bear with her:

“I promise your family will talk you through everything. But first I need to make sure you’re doing okay, alright? How’s your pain? One to ten?”

“I’m fine,” Sev said reflexively.

In truth, he was sore all over. His ribs in particular. But more disconcerting was the sensation of misalignment between his body and mind. It was both less responsive than it should be and lighter than he was used to. Everything was faint. He felt like he was only half there.

“One to ten,” the soph urged, insistent.

“Three,” Sev said. “My body feels strange. Not fuzzy but—”

“Disconnected?” the soph prodded.

He nodded.

“That’s common after deep possession. Exus especially. The good news is, it should get better very quickly. If you can still move everything and remember everything, you’ll probably make a full recovery.”

Sev’s mother exhaled and said in Swedish:

“Thank Christ.”

The soph stood up and turned to address his parents.

“We need to keep him under observation for two more days. Standard procedure after exus possession. But provided there are no incidents, he should be good to go home on Solday.”

“Thank you, soph,” Svon said.

“Of course. Let me give you something to help recover your coordination, and then I’ll be out of your hair.

The soph injected something else into Sev’s IV. He forced an appreciative smile, but his mind throbbed in a constant refrain. What happened to Jecia and Juel? What happened to Thonis? Finally, she packed up her cart and rolled it out of the room, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, everybody started talking to him in a mix of Swedish and English. Something about the scene made him laugh. It reminded him of boisterous nights around the family dinner table in Östermalm.

Eventually, his father managed to speak above the others.

“He just woke up. Give him a chance to speak.”

“Thanks, dad,” Sevardin said in Swedish, then continued in English: “Can somebody please tell me what happened to my partners. Where’s Jecia?”

Another curtain of silence. Bad news then. Sev’s heart seized up.

“Jecia has been pronounced missing in action,” Galnea said at last. “They haven’t found her body or any of her equipment.”

Sevardin swallowed. The inside of his throat felt like leather.

But she’s alive. At the very least she’s alive. There’s no way she could disappear.

His brain immediately objected to his heart’s conclusion. A person caught amongst dozens of exploding grimoires could have been disintegrated, transformed into something unrecognizable, or suffered any number of other equally lethal fates. But not Jecia. She would have protected herself the worst of it. Maybe one of the books banished her to the Faed, but she wouldn’t die this easily. She’s even more stubborn than I am.

Then he remembered Juel. The phage’s claw clipping his head, slashing off part of his skull. His exposed brain. Please, God. Gods. Any higher power with a sense of mercy…Please. After a pause, he managed to ask:

“And Juel?”

His mother took a deep breath before speaking:

“Juel is alive. But he has been in a coma since Merday. We don’t know his exact diagnosis, but Ajola and Elamni told us part of his skull was cut off, and his brain suffered considerable trauma. We don’t know whether… we don’t know if he’s going to wake up.”

Sev clenched his bedsheets. In that moment, he realized that apart from the post-possession fuzziness, he felt fine. Bruised here and there with a sore wyrd. But I have no excuse to sit in this bed a second longer.

“I need to see him,” Sev said.

“Absolutely,” Aminima agreed. “Once the sophs say you’re ready.”

Sev snickered. His mother was an asfalis attorney. Always did things precisely by the book.

“What can we do to help?” Galnea asked. “Has anybody notified Jecia’s family yet?”

Sev gestured thanks at Galnea but shook his head.

“We are Jecia’s family. Her father passed last year. She has a handful of cousins. An aunt and uncle in India. But nobody nearby. And the news should come from me.”

Galnea nodded.

Another moment of silence followed by more inquiries about his feelings, and state of mind. He could tell they all wanted to know how this could happen, but they didn’t want to broach the topic of painful memories just yet, so they asked the same ‘harmless’ questions instead on repeat. They did the same thing when his legs were shattered.

Finally, his father spoke up again:

“I can tell that staying in that bed is killing you,” Svon turned to Aminima. “Let’s speak with the soph. See if we can get him permission to visit Juel.”

Sevardin gestured and emanated intense gratitude.

“I’ll wait here while you find out,” Galnea said.

Oh boy. I feel a lecture coming on. His sister always shot straight with him, and always found something to disapprove of. It’s like nobody told her she’s the little sister. Once they were alone, Galnea crossed her arms and took a deep breath. Sevardin raised an eyebrow at her.

“I know you’re going to wait for official word on Jecia. And monitor Juel too, of course. But when life is back to normal, you should go home.”

“Arroyo is my home, Gal,” Sev said patiently. “Same as New Orleans is for you.”

“Then take a trip to spend some time with mom and dad. Or visit me, Dreyvon and the kids. We fly out to Stockholm every Christmas. You and Jecia have only been once.”

“Where is this coming from?” he asked, still gentle.

Galnea paused again. The funny thing about her little lectures was that she felt duty-bound to give them even though she didn’t know what her argument would be ahead of time. The points she tried to make seemed to change from moment to moment.

“You should consider what else life has to offer. We’re all extremely proud of what you’ve done here, but there’s a bigger world out there Sev. Haven’t you ever considered what else you and Jecia could accomplish with your gift? Have you even considered starting a family together?”

Sev snickered, which immediately made Galnea’s nostrils flare. Sev gestured for peace.

“We’ve talked about it. But that’s your life, Gal. Mine is here.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s like this place is trying to kill you, and you’re just… satisfied with that!”

Sevardin opened his mouth but weighed his words carefully before continuing:

“There’s something special about this city. And my venture is a part of it. The mortal breath doesn’t just… bless people without reason. It appears in twins by chance, but when two strangers develop it… that’s not a coincidence. It’s part of a pattern. What happened in the Archives is another link in that chain.”

“What are you talking about?” Galnea demanded.

“You remember the Samhain massacre at the beginning of my career? The business with Dregori. The Black Lotus. These are all once-in-a-lifetime incidents, but they keep coming. Arroyo has… some kind of magical gravity to it. On our downtime, Jecia, Juel, and I were looking into the city’s history, trying to come up with an explanation. And we won’t rest until we find out what it is.”

Galnea snickered and shook her head.

“You’ve always wanted to be a storybook hero. And now that you’ve found your soulmate, I know there’s no reasoning with you. But you don’t owe this place your life, Sev.”

“That’s up for me to decide, Gal.”

Galnea took another deep breath and crossed her arms again.

“What will you do if Jecia doesn’t come back?”

Sevardin narrowed his eyes, daring her to continue. She obliged:

“I know you, Sev. I know you would die waiting for her as long as there is a chance—”

“You’re goddamn right.”

“And what happens if they find her licenses? If they find her body?”

That’s my sister. She just keeps asking questions until she finds one sharp enough to hurt.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” Sev said, no longer patient.

But he already knew his answer. Jecia and Juel wouldn’t want me to give up on our case. The Amagium has dispatched more CIC agents to Arroyo over the course of the last two decades than any other city in the Pacific States. Maybe more than any other city on the Erician continent. Our strange cases are just the tip of the iceberg, and over the past ten years, they’ve been accelerating. The Amagium itself knows something, and they are toying with our memories to keep it quiet. I won’t turn my back on that.

Sev’s mother walked back in the room and instantly took stock of the mood. She fixed her gaze on Galnea and frowned.

“Not sure what I’m interrupting, but I’m glad to interrupt it. Galnea, your brother needs rest, not an interrogation.”

“He needs Jesus and a smack upside the head,” Galnea grunted.

Aminima folded her arms, the same way Galnea had during her lectures. Galnea threw her hands up and strode outside the room. When she was gone, Sev snickered and shook his head at his mother. She gave him a sympathetic smile and said:

“You know it’s her way of trying to help.”

 “I know.”

“I spoke with the soph. She said that you can visit Juel when you feel up to it. But you have another visitor who’s been waiting for you to wake up since before we got here.”

Sev gave her a questioning look.

“Senior Archivist Stroud. He was the one to break the news to us. The sophs say he’s been by your bedside since he got out of surgery himself.”

Sev’s heart plunged.

“Surgery?”

His mother nodded. Fragmented memories flash through in Sev’s head, sharp as broken glass. He remembered the rush of exus. Killing the egregore with the most excessive violent magic possible. And then… then I turned on Thonis. Oh god. He tried to remember what happened next, but the specifics were lost to a bloody haze. He was deep in exus by that point.

“He’s completely stable,” his mother assured him. “But you owe him a conversation. And we owe you two some space. We came straight here, so we’re going to check into our hotel and get settled. Do you want us to come back after dinner, or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is good,” Sev said, gesturing thanks.

His mother leaned to give him a hug and a kiss. Sev reciprocated.

“Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I…”

His mother cut him off with one sharp gesture.

“You couldn’t keep us away.” She smiled at him like he was still her little boy, then stood and walked to the door, where she turned back. “Call us if you need anything.”

“I will, mom.”

She emanated an affectionate goodbye and left.

Less than a minute later, Thonis Stroud ducked through the door to his room. The first thing he noticed was the sling and the cast. Stroud’s right arm was wrapped in thick plaster coating… but the end of the cast was wrong. Too small. He realized, with horror, that there was a stump where his hand used to be. No. Oh god. Was that me?

In answer, he remembered the gleeful cackling that flooded his mind as they fought. Thonis parrying Sevardin’s explosive, euphoric power with his own wyrd. And then he remembered cutting through Thonis’ barrier, slashing off three of his fingers. No!

Tears filled Sev’s eyes.

“Thonis,” Sevardin began, but he had no idea what to say next.

Thonis smiled and said:

“It’s good to see you awake, old friend.”

“Oh god. What have I done?”

“You saved us from the egregore,” Thonis said firmly. “Without your magic, Juel, you, and I would all certainly be dead. And the gods only know how many others.”

Sevardin shook his head, trying to reject the scene in front of him. Another memory. Thonis planting his bloody right palm on his face, followed by an intense surge of magic.

“I took your hand,” Sev said, nearly choking on the words.

“You took three of my fingers. I gave the rest—gladly—in exchange for a contract to subdue you. A small price to pay for any life, much less a precious comrade.”

Tears flooded Sevardin’s eyes. Thonis gave him an anguished smile.

“Sevardin, my only regret is that I couldn’t stop that thing sooner. You could give me the same choice from now until perdition, and my decision would be the same.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sevardin wept.

It wasn’t just Thonis’ hand, but seeing the stump made it all real. Everything hit him at once. Juel’s head, grazed by the egregore’s claw. Jecia whispering something he couldn’t hear, just before she was lost beneath an explosion of burning grimoires. Thonis seemed to tear up as well:

“I didn’t come to bring you pain, Sevardin. The medithurges have already installed an artifice port on my wrist. By next week, I will have a new hand for every occasion.”

Sev tried to laugh, but the breath just turned into more tears. Thonis approached his bed, and put his left hand on Sev’s shoulder. Sevardin answered by hugging Thonis around his waist, clinging like he would drown if he let go. He wasn’t sure how long he cried, but it was all he could do. Guilt stole every breath.

“Does it hurt?” Sev asked, as soon as he could speak.

Asinine question. Artificed prostheses required synthetic nerves to grow throughthe patient’s flesh, connecting to their organic nervous system. It was frequently cited as the most painful treatment a person could be subjected to, likened to torture. But Thonis merely shrugged.

“The good sophs gave me some truly potent narcotics,” Thonis said. “I’m practically half here.”

This time Sev did laugh, but his lungs relapsed into sobs, as if it was all they knew how to do.

“I took the liberty of calling your family,” Thonis said. “Hopefully they were able to provide you with some measure of comfort.”

Sev nodded emphatically, unable to speak again.

“Have they told you about Juel and Jecia?”

Again, Sev nodded. Thonis smiled at him and said:

“Good. Then you know there is still hope.”

“Yes,” Sev said. “There’s still hope.”

— 2:37 PM —

Sev and Thonis spoke for an hour. Thonis filled him in. All told, four keepers and three archivists had perished in the process of reclaiming the pin. Seven others, including Juel, Thonis, and Sevardin were injured. Jecia was the only amagia who was MIA.

The precise cause of the fire was still unclear, and due to the magical nature of the consumed artifacts, it would likely remain a mystery. The archivists were still struggling to take a comprehensive inventory of what was lost in the blaze.

At two o’clock, Thonis excused himself to inject anti-rejection medication into his arm. Sev couldn’t bear to look at his stump, and when Thonis left, it took him another fifteen minutes to regain his composure. As awful as Thonis’ dismemberment was, he knew facing Elamni would be harder.

But I have a duty. And I’ve sulked long enough.

He hit the buzzer on his bed to call his soph and asked to see Juel when she arrived. He was prepared to tell her that he would be going to see him with or without her permission but fortunately she acquiesced easily. She hung his IV on one of those mobile poles that resembled a coatrack, and she escorted him to Juel’s room.

“You need to go back to bed in thirty minutes to give your body the best chances of completely healing, alright?”

Sev nodded.

“Thank you, soph.”

She patted him on the shoulder and left him to knock on the door to his partner’s room. He froze for a moment, unsure of what he would do or say. How can I face Elamni? How can I face Ethano? He was a good kid. Already wise beyond his years. Smart enough to grasp what was happening, but far too young to be able to deal with it.

Be strong. Give them hope. If they see you despairing, you’ll do more harm than good. You owe them all of your courage. All of your strength. So give it to them.

Sevardin took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

A few seconds later, Elamni Flores opened the door. She was red-eyed and her posture was soaked with grief. She looked a decade older than the last time they spoke. She hugged him before he could lose his composure, and he hugged her back.

“I’m so sorry, Elamni,” he whispered.

“We’re so glad you’re alright,” she answered, though her voice was hoarse. Then she turned to look behind her, where Ethano stood near his father’s bed.

“Ethano! It’s Tio Sev!”

Ethano turned around and ran forward.

“How are you feeling, Tio?” Ethano asked.

Sevardin laughed, already tearing up. Be a man, goddammit.

“I’m a lot better, now that you’re both here.”

Ethano nodded seriously, wearing a skeptical expression:

“You’re still hurt though.”

“No. I’m fine buddy.

But Ethano was right. It hurts to be alive. I should be the one who can’t wake up.

“I’m fine thanks to your dad.” Sev said, nodding at Juel’s prone figure on the bed.

His face was obscured by bandages. Various pieces of monitoring equipment were connected to him, including that damn heart monitor that seemed to be beeping his life away. Sev steeled himself.

“Without him, the monster would have won. Juel fought so hard and…” Sev wasn’t sure where he was going. “And he’s not done fighting yet. Not by a long shot. I know how much your dad loves you. And I know he won’t give up until he sees you again.”

“And Tia?” Ethano asked.

The question broke his composure immediately. He always calls Jecia ‘Tia.’ Aunty. He choked and swallowed before he could weep, then forced himself to smile.

Elamni put a hand on Ethano’s shoulder and spoke with gentle admonishment:

“Thano…”

“No. It’s alright,” Sev assured her. “We can’t find Tia yet, Ethano. But that tells me she’s out there somewhere. She’s still fighting too. And she’s going to come home. I know it.”

Ethano tried to smile and nodded. Elamni squeezed his shoulder and said:

“Thano, I need to speak to Tio alone for a minute, okay? We’re gonna go outside for just a couple minutes. Can you keep reading dad your book?”

Ethano looked up at his mother and nodded solemnly, then walked over to the chair in the corner and opened up his paperback. He’s already reading novels. It broke Sev’s heart all over again. God damn. Kid’s so smart, just like his dad. And so well-behaved.

 Christ, it should be me. Why isn’t it me?

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Elamni said, sniffling.

Sev had managed to hold his composure for Juel’s boy, but now that he was looking at Elamni—his best friend’s wife, one of his own best friends—and the guilt overcame him.

“It should have been me,” Sev said. “If I could trade places—”

“You can’t, Sev,” Elamni said firmly. “Like you said, they’re both fighting for us. Fighting to come home. So you can’t stop fighting either, alright?”

“I failed them, Lami. I failed you.”

“I don’t believe that. I know you, Sev. Whatever happened in the Archives… I know you did the right thing. Because you don’t know how to do anything else. And if he doesn’t wake up…” Elamni hiccupped. “If he doesn’t wake up, I need you to be there for Ethano. He needs somebody like you in his life.”

“I promise. Threefold Elmani, I promise I will always be there for you and Thano.”

— 6:07 PM —

Sev slept like the dead after speaking with Elamni and Ethano. It was one of the hardest, heaviest things he had ever done. When the medisoph woke him at five with a tray of dinner, he wolfed it down, despite its blandness.

He watched the news as he ate, not really absorbing any of the stories. After he finished, he was prepared to doze off again, when the soph came back:

“How are we feeling, Mr. Harker?”

Guilty. Awful. Scared. But he settled for:

“I’m just a bit tired.”

“Pain okay?”

“I’m good,” he assured her.

“Do you have the energy for one more visitor?” she asked.

Sev was surprised. It was common for officers to check on other wounded officers, but apart from venturemates, Keepers usually waited a day for family and close friends before expressing their condolences and well wishes. He nodded. The soph bowed her head and walked into the hall. Sev heard her say something to the effect of “He needs his rest. Only ten minutes, okay?” Sev recognized the voice that replied in the affirmative, but he couldn’t place it until the person stepped inside.

Ridger McCormick, his old master, long-retired from his duties at the Athenaeum, appeared in the door way. He wore his full dress uniform, and leaned on a cane for support. His scarred skin was now patched with liver spots; it had faded to a pale shadow of its former dark shade.

“Hello, Sevardin.”

“Master McCormick,” Sev replied evenly, though after so long, the words were strange in his mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

Sevardin nearly laughed. What the fuck are you doing here?

The question must have been plain on his face—or maybe he accidently emanated the sentiment—but Ridger gave a gruff laugh and bowed his head.

“I know you probably aren’t happy to see me. But when I heard what happened to you and yours…” He shook his head. “I want you to know that I’m ashamed of the way I treated you, Harker. But I am proud of the Keeper you’ve become anyway. I don’t expect forgiveness, and I know it’s more for my peace of mind than yours. But I needed to tell you something.”

“Well. You’ve told me,” Sev said. “Feel better?”

It was petty. The man was being vulnerable with him for the first time in his life, and his only reaction was to jab the exposure. But Sev was too tired to be the bigger person. Too sore to indulge the old bastard in selfish closure.

“No,” McCormick chuckled. “I’m going to the grave feeling like a fool. But that’s not what I needed to say. I know that apart from magic, I never taught you anything useful. So please believe me when I say this is the most important advice I can offer in recompense.”

Sev pointedly stared, waiting for the old man to spit it out.

“Surviving isn’t a sin,” McCormick said at last. “It can be a curse, but it’s never a sin. Even when the price paid seems unforgiveable. Even though you want to atone, or trade places with the fallen, surviving is the hardest, bravest thing you can do.”

Sev eyed McCormick. That’s it? Eleven years of indifference, another decade of silence, and now you come to me with some empty platitude? You think your sage wisdom will save me? I don’t care if you’ve been here before. I don’t care what you’ve lost or how you lost it. Your approval means nothing to me, and your advice even less.

McCormick had enough sense to read his expression. The man gestured surrender and bowed his head.

“I’ll take my leave,” McCormick said. “But you did the right thing, Harker. Keep fighting. Keep surviving.”