12. Sarilian

twelve

Sarilian

Frustration sat heavy in Sarilian's gut as he hurried through the pristine gilded halls toward Daybreak's main dawnbeam waypoint. The last few days had been a cavalcade of delays and minor annoyances seemingly designed to test the limits of his patience.

First, his rotation on the frontline ran over when the voidspawn emerging from a gate chose to scatter rather than engage the Celestial forces directly. That happened sometimes, though no one knew why. As with most things related to the Void, there might not be a purpose beyond sowing chaos. Regardless, it meant extra shifts hunting them down until their numbers had been culled enough to safely leave the remainder to scouts.

Then, mere hours after returning to Daybreak, Darius requisitioned his aid with some of their latest recruits. Though the Aspect passed it off as mentoring, Sarilian suspected their earlier run-in at the waypoint might have something to do with it. Perhaps Darius figured such duties would remind Sarilian of his own purpose here in the Dawnlands. Or maybe he simply wished to ensure Sarilian was too busy for other pursuits.

Either way, the end result left him several days late escaping to his usual meeting spot with Malorg. He wasn't certain what he expected to find when he got there—a message, perhaps, or else a way to leave one of his own to apologize.

Instead, he found Malorg himself hunched beneath the dark trees. Even in the dimness, the Infernal looked like he hadn't had a moment's rest since they'd last parted. His eyes were wild, his conjured clothes misshapen and frayed. When he saw Sarilian, he lunged at him, clinging to him like a drowning man and clutching him close.

"Thank the Dark, you're alive! Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Sarilian said. He squirmed in Malorg's iron grip until the Infernal let him go with a sheepish expression. "Just tired. My field assignment ran late, and then Darius wanted my help around Daybreak."

Malorg hastily applied the usual darkvision and disguise enchantments, and Sarilian made a show of studying Malorg, arching an eyebrow. "Not as tired as you look, though. When did you last return to Twilight to rest?"

"Not since we were supposed to meet. I waited for you, hoping you were running late. And when days passed and you didn't show up, I…"

Malorg swallowed, his throat working. Sarilian pressed a hand to the Infernal's cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. Like I said, I was busy. This was the soonest I could sneak away. I'm sorry if I made you worry."

A scowl pursed Malorg's lips as he stepped back in a momentary blur of shadows. Sarilian immediately missed his cool touch. "Made me worry? I wasn't just worried—I was terrified!"

Merciful Light, Sarilian had expected to owe Malorg an apology for missing their past meet-up, but he hadn't anticipated such a visceral reaction. He tried to keep his tone light as he slowly twirled, holding out his arms. "Well, there's no need. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

"This time." The Infernal's muscles tensed. "But what about the next? Or the next? Every battle you wage is another chance a voidspawn eviscerates you!"

Remembering how that flying void lord had ripped Hilana apart during his first combat months ago, Sarilian suppressed a shiver. "I know the risks. But we've been over this, Mal—that is the price we all must pay to uphold our duty to Allaria."

"Dark take our duty!" Malorg stepped in close, crowding Sarilian until he found himself pressed against a gnarled tree. Its gray bark bristled beneath his fingers. "Duty is the lie mortals and Immortals alike tell themselves to justify meaningless deaths fought for a meaningless cause! The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be."

Anger seared through Sarilian, and he shoved Malorg's chest. The blow didn't do any real harm to the Infernal, of course, but it still sent him stumbling a surprised step back, which gave Sarilian space to step away from the tree.

"Just because you've given up doesn't mean that I have!" Sarilian shook his head, frustration stiffening his shoulders. "I'm not an idiot. I heard what Pelorak said in your apartment. I know you blame yourself for whatever happened to end your talks with the Celestials, and I can understand why you've lost your will to fight. But how can you care so little about the Covenant—about everyone and everything else?"

"Because the Covenant took everything from me!" Malorg's wretched scream reverberated through the trees, lodging itself in Sarilian's soul. He watched in shocked silence as a single tear slid down Malorg's cheek—the first he'd ever seen the Infernal shed.

Swiping angrily at his cheek, Malorg bowed his head and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. When he spoke, his voice sounded as jagged as shards of glass.

"His name was Uryqh. He arrived in the Immortal Realm about the same time Pelorak and I did. The three of us were friends. We trained together, fought together—at least, until Pelorak's schemes took him off the battlefield and into Twilight's back halls. Like you, we swore to make a difference. To do our duty and defeat the Void. Pelorak and I both had our eyes on Dusk Council seats, but Uryqh preferred to live in the moment—to find joy even where no one else would have. With Pelorak occupied, the two of us became… close."

Malorg gave a shuddering breath. Though faint jealousy flickered through Sarilian at the thought of the Infernal with someone else, he easily muffled it beneath his overwhelming sympathy. He longed to comfort Malorg but remained rooted to the spot, worried any interruption might bring Malorg's tale to a premature end. Eventually, Malorg continued.

"As you know, I grew weary of our eternal stalemate against the Void. With Pelorak's connections as the newly appointed Aspect of Ambition, I convinced the Infernals to appeal to your people. The Celestials agreed. When it became clear the discussions were going nowhere, I proposed a joint exercise, both sides uniting to fend off an unusually large void gate about to open in the Dawnlands. I thought it would be the perfect demonstration of the potential benefits of cooperation. Uryqh accompanied me."

After the profound reaction Pelorak's casual mention of the Blistering Fields had elicited in Malorg , Sarilian could guess what happened next. He felt poised on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. Unable to hold back any longer, he stepped forward and grasped Malorg's hand. To his relief, Malorg didn't pull away. His fingers squeezed Sarilian's in a vice-like grip.

"The battle began well enough. The Celestials held the line while the Infernals targeted the stronger voidspawn or any that attempted to slip past. Then, the void god arrived." Malorg's fingers trailed to the scar bisecting the left half of his face. "Everything devolved into chaos after that. Panic gripped both sides. Even weakened duskflame daggers proved deadly to a wounded Celestial low on dawnflame, and Celestial fireballs burned voidspawn and Infernals alike in haphazard conflagrations. Uryqh and I were dueling the void god when fire meant for it engulfed us. I was spared the worst of the blast and managed to slay the void god, but Uryqh…"

Sarilian didn't know what to say. What could he say when faced with the lost look in Malorg's wide, haunted eyes? He pulled Malorg close and held him, running fingers lightly down his back. Malorg's body shook in Sarilian's arms as he silently wept.

"I used to yearn for oblivion," Malorg murmured. His voice came out rough, still choked by sorrow. Sarilian shuddered, surprised by the soft brush of Malorg's lips up his neck and along the edge of his jaw. "Until I met you, and you reminded me what it was like to live. If I have to watch you share Uryqh's fate, I'm not certain how much of me would be left."

"You won't." Sarilian gripped the back of Malorg's neck and raised his head so he could press a tender kiss to those tantalizing lips. "I promise."

They both knew it was an oath Sarilian couldn't possibly keep. Until the Covenant ended, they would always be at risk. Sarilian couldn't guarantee his own safety any more than he could guarantee Malorg's, and vice versa.

Nevertheless, Malorg didn't call him on his lie, tugging him into another desperate embrace. Then, he stepped back and offered a hand. Sarilian took it, enjoying the swooping sensation as they melted into shadows that flitted across the forest floor. He'd spent enough time in the Dusklands by now that he'd begun to feel almost comfortable there. In some ways, it was more a home to him than the Dawnlands. Here, he had Malorg.

Sarilian expected Malorg to duskwalk them to his apartment as he usually did. Instead, he deposited them in a narrow alley. Blinking as he looked around, it took Sarilian a moment to place where they were. When he did, he furrowed his brow, a tight knot of anxiety forming in his gut.

"Why did you bring us here?"

Instead of answering, Malorg pressed a hand to the nearest wall. A thin, spidery crack of ethereal blue appeared—the rift opening onto the Shroud between worlds. Only then did Malorg face him, his ash-colored eyes fervent in the rift's ghostly light.

"So long as we remain in the Immortal Realm, we live on borrowed time. Voidspawn, Pelorak, Darius—whether through death or discovery, the Covenant will tear us apart." Malorg turned toward the rift. Sarilian's breath caught as the Infernal's fingers hovered just above its shimmering surface. "The only way we get our happy ending is if we leave this Dark-cursed realm behind. Forget the Celestials and Infernals both. Let us seek out our own purpose. Together."

Together . Sarilian trembled, a heady mix of terror, longing, and regret leaving him unbalanced. "You said that passing through the Shroud would destroy us. That it would rip an Immortal's soul apart."

Doubt briefly flickered over Malorg's narrow features before hardening into resolve. "Remember our hunting trip in the Dusklands, when we ran into that nest of gliding voidspawn?" He waited for Sarilian's hesitant nod before continuing. "I've been thinking about how that infusion of duskflame I gave you temporarily bolstered your body's natural defenses. We might be able to use that same protective ward to shield us long enough to make the journey."

Even as a part of him yearned to agree, Sarilian found himself shaking his head. "And what if you're wrong? What if our conjoined magic isn't enough, and the Shroud rips our souls apart?"

"It won't—I won't let it." Bathed in soft azure light, Malorg held out a hand. A wavering smile graced his lips. "Besides, better a chance at happier-ever-after than waiting here for inevitable loss."

Light help him, Sarilian allowed himself to consider it. If they survived the trip through the Shroud, they'd return to the Mortal Realm. No more voidspawn. No more Covenant. They could be what they wanted, do what they wanted. Build a real life together instead of settling for a handful of stolen moments.

And yet…

Sarilian bowed his head. "You're asking me to betray an oath I made during my mortal life—to forsake my sworn duty and my people."

"They are the ones who forsake us." Footfalls echoed off the shifting gray street, and Sarilian glanced up sharply, meeting Malorg's stormy eyes as he clutched Sarilian's hand. "Don't you see? This entire realm is nothing but an enormous prison, our supposed purpose a lie to trick us into throwing our lives away without complaint!"

"That's what sacrifice is : to give oneself up for the benefit of others. My life as payment for those of millions of mortals sounds like a fair bargain to me."

Malorg's grip on his hand tightened. "No amount of lives is worth yours! And even if they were, your so-called sacrifice won't save them. It can't—not while we're trapped in this endless cycle against an enemy we cannot hope to defeat. Any suffering we endure will be in vain."

"Then, we break the cycle!" Sarilian tore his hand free. Too restless to remain still, he paced before the beckoning rift. "We try again to change things, just as you did once before. Your friend Pelorak sits on the Dusk Council. If you can convince him to listen—"

A bitter chuckle ripped from Malorg's throat. "Pelorak is not my friend. He made that clear when he cared more about the hit to his reputation than Uryqh's death. He won't do anything unless he believes it's in his own best interest."

"Then, convince him it is!" Sarilian jerked to a halt, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Helpless frustration threatened to crush him. "Or better yet, seek a council seat yourself. That's what you intended centuries ago, right? Once both of us are Aspects, we'd have the power to change things from the inside—to rewrite the Covenant as we saw fit. Instead of using our combined magic to flee, we could spread it to all Immortals and unite them against the Void."

Malorg instantly shook his head. "They won't listen. The mistrust between our peoples runs too deep." An unreadable emotion flickered across his face. "Besides, who knows how long that would take? Council seats rarely switch hands, and even when they do, they go to the schemers like Pelorak, not to insignificant Immortals like you or me."

"Well, we have to do something!" Sarilian took a deep, calming breath to rein in his growing frustration. "When we first met, I told you we'd find a way to accomplish the impossible." He stepped toward Malorg as his words grew pleading. "I'm asking you to trust me again now. Don't give up on us—on our duty."

Malorg stiffened, his expression turning stony in an instant. "That's all that matters to you, isn't it? Duty." He spat the word like a curse. "As if you have some moral obligation to throw your life away in defense of mortals you've never even met."

"You said before that you admired my dedication—that you wanted me to prove your despondency misplaced."

"I did—I do." Malorg turned toward the Shroud, his body taut with pent-up emotion. "But that doesn't mean I'm willing to watch you make the same mistakes Uryqh and Pelorak did. I lost one of them to misguided faith and the other to blind ambition. If you truly wish to walk a similar path, perhaps you're better off walking it alone."

A tremor racked Sarilian, full of sorrow laced with panic and something horribly close to resignation. "That's not fair, Mal. You can't ask me to choose between you and my people. Between the Covenant and our love."

Malorg jerked as if struck, and Sarilian bit his lip. It was the first time either of them had said the world aloud, and though he hadn't meant for it to slip out, now that it had he prayed it would be enough to keep Malorg from pushing him away. His faint tendrils of hope withered when he saw the broken expression on Malorg's face—his dull eyes and slumped shoulders.

"I'm not," Malorg said, his gruff voice surprisingly gentle. "But we both know you already have. Dragging things out any longer will only hold you back."

Duskflame seethed around the Infernal as he prepared to sink into the shadows. And yet, despite the finality of his words, he hesitated.

He wants me to stop him , Sarilian realized. To renew his hope .

It would be so easy. Sarilian could rush to him, reassure him that even if he wouldn't abandon his people to brave the rift, that didn't mean everything else they had needed to end. He could still attempt to balance his devotion to the Covenant with the future he and Malorg sought to build.

Sarilian's foot took a shaky step toward Malorg as if of its own volition. Then, he thought of Darius. Of his own dream to someday sit upon the Dawn Council where he could enact the most good. Of the Covenant that bound his soul to this realm and the duty he felt obligated to fulfill as a result.

You are the shield that will keep them safe—the blade that shall strike down their foes!

Darius' pre-battle words resonated throughout his core. The people of Allaria depended on Immortals like him to protect them from the horrors that dwelled within the Void. That Sarilian had even been tempted to run away proved Malorg's admonitions—the Infernal was a distraction Sarilian could no longer afford. Not if he wanted to live up to his potential.

Sarilian bowed his head, clenching and unclenching his fists in a vain attempt to soothe the riot of emotions drowning him. "Until we meet again," he whispered as Malorg sank into the shadows and faded away like so much smoke, taking a piece of Sarilian's heart with him.