Chapter 68: 67. Higher Calling

Aletheia watched Corvo for the day that followed. Eris spent most of her time outside, with Dorian, in the gardens—with the scroll of Mass Recall. It would have taken Aletheia weeks or months to master such a powerful spell from a slip of paper, if she ever could; but Eris returned to the compound after a handful of hours.

“It is done,” she said. “I have managed to teleport Dorian from one end of the compound to another with it, and he has not yet turned to sludge. I am content with this progress.”

“And the soul imbuement spell?” Aletheia asked.

Eris shook her head. “It is no scroll at all. The words have no power, but describe a ritual. Neiaz was right that it will take a great expenditure of mana. I believe I will be able to do it, but I will not know until we are atop the Obelisk.”

Aletheia nodded. “Okay. Then let’s get ready.”

They gathered their things. Corvo and Pherenike said goodbye. Eris said nothing further to Neiaz, and he said nothing further to her. She stepped into the gardens wordlessly. She had never been one for sentimentality.

Aletheia lingered. She waited until the others were gone, and she found Neiaz and Trito while they were together in the library.

The elves turned their heads her way. Whatever quiet conversation had carried between them ended abruptly.

“I will be along presently,” Trito said. “I have one matter left to discuss with Neiaz.”

She didn’t know what to say. Speech could not capture her thoughts. So she stared at the elves, like giants in their seats, and took a seat herself.

“I—have something I wanted to ask you. Both of you, I mean. Together.”

“Are all humans this way in Katharos?” Neiaz asked Trito.

“Forthright?” Trito said.

“Impudent and demanding.”

“Yes. But they are worth listening to anyway.”

Neiaz quieted. A human might have sighed, but he didn’t. Instead, after a long pause, he said, “Speak.”

Aletheia did sigh. She thought hard and quickly about how to phrase what was on her mind.

This came to nothing. She had to speak without preparation.

She told them, clumsily, the story of her resurrection, as quickly as she could. She told them of her stray memories inherited from Astera, and of the offer given to her by Deror.

“They thought I could become an elf,” she said. “That I—that I was halfway there already. They thought I would find some way to do it in the City, if I found the palace.”

“And what did you tell them?” Trito asked.

“No. That I wasn’t interested, I mean.”

“You made the correct decision,” Neiaz said.

“But I still have Astera in me. I haven’t been able to hear her since I came to the tower, and it’s reminded me of what it used to be like. When I was just Aletheia. And I’m certain now. I want that back. I want to get rid of her, forever. And I thought, maybe, that you would know how.”

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The elves sat in total silence. Trito looked once to Neiaz, who did not look back, and then to Aletheia. Yet still neither said anything.

“If it means giving up my magic,” she said, “then I’ll do it. Anything. Please.”

“You are right that this is an evil of magic,” Neiaz said at last. “And one we should wish to rectify. But there is much out of order in the world. You are… but one aberration.”

“We have helped you a great deal already,” Trito said.

“I’ll swear to serve the Lioness,” Aletheia said suddenly. She surprised herself with the words, but kept on regardless, “Trito told me about his vision. And how I fit into it. And I’ve been thinking about it for days—or, hours, or however you count time here. Tides. I want that, too. I want to help you.”

Trito smiled. Neiaz smirked.

“A human magician who serves Leaina,” Neiaz said. “Now there would be perversion. A paradox. Have you ever heard of such nonsense, Prince Trito?”

“No,” Trito said. But his smile didn’t fade. “It is a paradox she would find amusing. I believe she would approve.”

“I’ve spent the last nine years without any purpose,” she said. “I haven’t known what to do. Or where to go. Everywhere I looked I couldn’t find anything. I thought—it would be better if I just gave up and died. Like I wasn’t supposed to be alive anyway, and I was a ghost withering away in someone else’s body, waiting until it finally ended again. Forever, this time. I didn’t think I had anything to do in life except look after Corvo. But… if your vision was real… and I’ve come all this way to find you, then—maybe I was wrong.”

“You would want to join the Mortalists,” Trito said.

“Yes.”

Neiaz scoffed. “A mortal cannot be a Mortalist.”

“Yet she is already,” Trito said, “for she is a rare mortal who was offered immortality and rejected it.” Then he raised his eyebrows. “There are few of us left, Master Neiaz. We must take recruits where they appear.”

Neiaz was quiet again. Then he said, “You would stay in Seneria?”

“Wherever you want me to go,” Aletheia said.

“You would relinquish your magic?”

“If that’s what—you think is best. Yes.”

“You ask for no power in return?”

“Only that you get rid of Astera. Like I said.”

“Yet how should we test her devotion, for she has no power without her magic?” Neiaz said. “She will do us little good as a mundane human girl. She will die of old age before we have decided on a plan.”

Trito stood. “There are many answers to that question. But none are a reason to turn her away, if this is what she wants.” He came to her, looming over her. “Is this, truly? What you want? You may never see Corvo again, nor your homelands. We go where Leaina wishes us to; you would serve her, and never yourself, again. Nor your friends.”

Aletheia swallowed. Her breath picked up. She didn’t want to leave Eris. She wanted to watch Corvo grow up. She wanted to keep the both of them safe.

But she wanted a purpose more. A purpose for her entire life. One that wouldn’t disappear when Corvo came of age—one that was for something greater than just herself or her family.

And she hated magic. She hated elves. She hated demons and the Aether. She wished she had never been manaseared. She was on the Mortalists’ side already.

So she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

Aletheia and Trito stepped into the gardens together. Dorian packed his things and strapped on his sword, while Eris and Corvo checked that they had not left anything within the tower.

Eris looked to Aletheia.

“There you are,” she said. “We must go at once. I wish to tarry no longer.”

“We are agreed, then,” Trito said.

“You will come with us?” she asked him.

“Did you think I would linger in the compound?” he said. “No. I have come this far. I will see it through.”

“I am prepared to use Mass Recall once the Shadow Man is dead,” Eris said. “Will you—follow after us then?”

Trito quickly glanced to Aletheia, and he shook his head. “No. I do not travel by magic. I will stay here.”

Eris lifted Corvo’s pack onto his shoulders and nodded, turning to them one final time.

“You are a very curious creature, Prince Trito,” she said. “I believe, in my youth, I should have hated you. And perhaps I still do. Yet—my son owes you his life. And you have my thanks.”

“We are opposites in many ways,” he said. “But such things were not always so. Know that I was once more like you than you would care to know. And I believe that, one day, you will become more like me than you care to now imagine.”

She rolled her eyes. “I very much doubt that. But you may flatter yourself how you wish.”

“The demons are gone,” called Dorian. He stood atop the wall, looking westward toward the Regizar’s palace and the Obelisk of Serapion. “We should move now, before they come back.”

“Indeed,” Eris said. “This is the final stretch now. There is no reason to withhold our powers, for we must move quickly.”

“That is your decision to make,” Trito said. He stepped up to the compound’s gate. “I would offer to lead the way. Yet you can see the Obelisk as well as I can.”

“I do not intend to follow you any farther anyway, after what you led us into last time,” Eris said. “Thus I will take the lead this time, I think. So follow me.”