Book 6 Chapter 17

“You, uhhh, you can fix it though, can’t you?” Joan asked.

“No idea,” the fate said. “You do know you aren’t supposed to do that, right? If you were anyone else, you’d simply have ceased to exist unless someone managed to fix you.”

“I uhhh, was hoping that was a loophole,” Joan said softly. “There’s not exactly a book on this. Or, if there is, I don’t know which one of them it was and I don’t think I could stay awake long enough to figure it out.”

“There isn’t one you could comprehend, don’t worry,” the fate said. “I have to admit, you have been quite amusing to watch. I really was unsure of how you’d do and, frankly, you’ve made so much extra work for us.”

“You’re, uhhhh, a bit more lively than I remember,” Joan said softly.

“Interpretation,” the Three Sisters said. “After all, as the Hero you saw everything as so fancy, so uptight. Ritual and all of that stuff. Not as much as some people, mind. But it was always so much mystery and ceremony with you. That’s the most annoying thing with mortals. You always hear and see what you want, not what’s really there.”

“Wait, like the fae?” Joan asked. “Are you a fae?”

“No,” the Three Sisters said. “But is that really what you want to ask? Time is running out, Joan. You’ve created quite the little loop hole, I’ll grant you that. But it won’t last forever. Soon… you’ll either cease to exist or you’ll be where you were. As far as you know, your plan a success.”

Joan felt a knot forming in her stomach again. “I can ask anything? I uhhh… I mean… I think there’s one thing I want to ask.”

The fate gave a soft sigh. “No and yes. We can’t fix this, Joan. Even if we could, we wouldn’t. It’d destroy everything that makes your world exist. Destroy you even more than the Inferno God. Frankly, though, you’ve already made us expend more energy than we ever should have. The things we can alter are limited. You may be, how did she put it? ‘Fate’s favorite child’? Well, grandchild I suppose, but there is only so much we can do. We can’t change choices. We can only change chances.”

“Grandchild?” Joan asked. “Wait, does that--”

“Focus,” the Three Sisters said. “And no, it doesn’t.”

“Can I save them?” Joan asked.

“Probably not, it’s impossible,” the Three Sisters said before shaking her head. “But even if it is, you’ll still try, won’t you?”

Joan didn’t answer, her eyes lowering.

“Then perhaps,” the Three Sisters said. “I don’t know if you can. None of us can. By the time we know, it’s too late for us to change it. But there is, somehow, a small chance.”

“I’m going to break a lot, aren’t I?” Joan asked.

“Probably,” the Three Sisters said. “But who knows? You’ve already gone in so many directions other than the ones we chose for you. You’re just going to make this worse for yourself, you know. But who knows? Perhaps this will make it possible.”

Joan gave a small nod. “There’s one more question, something I’ve been wondering about. How Penthe found me and killed me when I was the Hero, but not this time. Did she…?”

“Yes, she did,” the fate said.

“Then this time, you’re hiding me. Aren’t you?” Joan asked.

She was greeted by silence this time for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the fate spoke up. “We are.”

Joan took a slow, deep breath. “Can you stop? If this works, I won’t need it.”

“Done,” the Three Sisters said. “Good luck. You’ll need more of it than we can provide.”

“I’ve got a plan,” Joan said sheepishly.

“Oh, I know,” the Three Sisters said. “It’s a really stupid plan.”

“Do I have any other kind?” Joan asked with a smile.

“Most mortal plans are stupid,” the Three Sisters said. “Yours is no exception. But that’s what makes you fun. Oh, hey, look. One of them worked. Please stop trying to find loopholes, though. That’s supposed to be our job.”

------

Joan stared down at her string for a moment. Well… she was hoping there’d be a bit more to it. A moment of blinding pain and then nothing. It was cut and she still existed. That was a good sign. She hoped.

“I guess that worked. I’m still here, right?” Joan asked the spider lich.

“You appear to be. Why did you even do that?”

“Because I had to try. Right. Moving onto the next point. Are there any beds here?” Joan asked.

“Why would there be beds here?” the spider lich asked.

“Because… right. Right. I guess you’re probably the only thing that could sleep here. Do you sleep?”

“No.”

“What’s it like to be dead?” Joan asked. “I mean, and still moving? I asked a vampire once and she tried to show me.”

“It is strange,” the spider lich said.

“Okay, then,” Joan said before taking a deep breath. “Next question. Do you have a name?”

“…”

“… Well?”

“No.”

“Really? You don’t?” Joan asked. “Nobody named you?”

“I have forgotten,” the spider lich said.

“How do you forget your name?” Joan asked. “Wait, no, don’t answer that. I actually know the answer to that. Do you have anything you want to call me?”

“I care not what you call me, fated one,” the spider lich said.

“Gotcha. Gonna call you Boney. That okay? Kind of cute and… maybe it’ll make you less scary,” Joan said.

“Unlikely,” Boney said.

“Yeah,” Joan said before glancing down at the bracer on her arm. “Thanks, by the way. Before, for knocking me off the threads. I might have died there.”

“It is my duty,” Boney said. “It is why I am here.”

“Of course,” Joan said before looking around. So much ash. Destruction. “Sorry about my tantrum. I uhhh…”

“I care not for the destruction of the dead,” Boney said. “There are many worse fates.”

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“Good, good,” Joan said sheepishly. “I’m going to go lay down and, if I’m lucky, I’ll not wake up outside.”

“You will,” Boney said.

“Probably,” Joan said before glancing towards the tapestry. “But if I’m not? I kind of don’t exist. That means I can do things.”

“…”

“Promise not to like… bother me while I sleep?” Joan asked.

“Should you sleep, I will not come near you,” Boney said.

“Good, good,” Joan said before nervously reaching out to rub the bracer. It did sting a bit, but it was useful. It let her talk with Boney, she wondered what else it would allow her to do. First she needed to see if she could find a chair or something that hadn’t been covered in body. Or ash. She’d need to deal with the rest of the bodies eventually, she supposed. So long as she didn’t have to touch any of them.

Well, if her plan worked. Joan really hoped the Fates didn’t mind her trying this. But hey, if she was going to push her luck it was better to do it all at once rather than spreading it out over the next few months, right?

------

Joan couldn’t help feeling that, today, at least, really was her lucky day. If time was really stopped, was it really still ‘today’ though?

Either way, while she hadn’t been able to find much, she did manage to locate some storage from the elves. As well as another doorway. She tried to ignore the fact that the supplies were likely brought in by the very elves who were now nothing more than ash and had spent their last moments dying from a horrible plague that the Hero of that time had only barely managed to stop in time.

Though, even with her small nest and as tired as he was, she still struggled to go to sleep. From what she could gleam from the elf’s last note, this realm did have rules. There was always a force pulling them out. Once they lost consciousness, they were outside again. The world tugging them back where they existed.

Once she fell asleep, she might be tossed outside.

Then she might die.

The same mind thing that had affected her had affected the elves. The spell that stopped her from remembering. It lay at the heart of everything. Considering the things she now knew, it might kill her when she left here if she wasn’t able to reduce the damage.

Joan could at least take some solace in knowing that her frustration was matched by the frustration of those who came before her. As apparently only the undead were spared those losses of memories. Some of those who had left this realm had come back, only to have no memory of where they’d been. Entire tomes of information lost as they were just wiped clean by the spell.

Penthe’s sword had to be made from the same power. If that was what she used as a weapon, she could only imagine what that meant for her armor. How did you break a spell over the world if you forgot about it the moment you entered that world?

But she, fortunately, already knew about it. Even before she’d come here. More importantly, so did the Chosen. It was more important than she’d imagined. If she could break it, she’d be able to remember everything she’d learned.

Joan curled up tighter in her little nest. There were a lot of things she’d learned. Things Penthe needed to know. Things the Demon Lord, no, Arta needed to know. Things the Chosen needed to know.

Was it wishful thinking? Did she really think that she’d somehow be able to fix all this by herself? Did she really think she could just force it to be better?

She stared up at the ceiling. There was no tapestry here. No darkness. But…

What if it was all for naught? Would she die when she fell asleep?

It made it so hard to sleep, considering that. She thought about her life. Her choices. Everything.

Joan had been so stupid. She glanced at the bracer before, finally, tugging on it. It stopped biting her and fell off with a light clang on the ground. Her arms now had imprints of its teeth and legs.

“Who made this?” Joan asked softly before picking it up. “Why make it like this?”

She glanced back towards where all the bodies, the ash, the tapestries lay. Not that she could see them now. She then dropped the bracer back onto the floor and curled up into as small a ball as she could.

“I want to fix everything,” Joan said softly. “I don’t know if I can. Gods, if you can hear me? If you’re listening? Please. Help me. I don’t know how much you can do. I don’t know what you are willing to do. But please help me.”

“I was stupid. I had chances. I had options. But I was so convinced I had to do it on my own. I was so convinced I had to be the one who saved everyone. I thought… I thought I had to suffer. I was so convinced that my suffering somehow made it better. That if I hurt enough, that if I gave up enough, that if I just lost enough, I’d pay some imaginary price and everything would be better.”

“I can’t do this alone. But they need me. They are all hurting. There’s been so much. I don’t care if it’s not possible, I don’t care if I haven’t… if we haven’t earned it. Just… please. Help us. I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep fighting. I won’t give in until I die, until my soul shatters, until everything I am breaks if I have to. Just… please.”

“Help me save them all,” Joan said softly before closing her eyes once more, drifting off into a light, frightful sleep.

------

Joan’s eyes opened and she stared up at the ceiling of the Realm of the Gods. She reached up and touched her arm. She had a pulse and didn’t seem to be dead. Well. Maybe her plan had worked, after all. Maybe the gods were listening now. She couldn’t get much closer than this, now could she?

Grudgingly, she pulled the bracer on. She let out a pained yelp when it bit into her arm. “Oh, I really don’t like that at all,” she said softly. Joan slowly got to her feet and shook her head. “HEY! Boney! Are you there? I need some help! There’s got to be some food around here, right?”

“You’re still here,” Boney said once she finally returned to the tapestry.

“Yeah, I’m hard to get rid of like that. Looks like it worked. I don’t exist, so I don’t get shoved out. Food, does this place have it?” Joan asked.

“Do you still require it?” Boney asked.

“I… think I do,” Joan said before glancing towards the tapestry. She hoped she did. Time was such a strange thing when it didn’t work right. “I’m hungry, so I’m going to say yes. Also, are you able to come off the tapestry?”

“If I must,” Boney said. “Why?”

“Good,” Joan said. “You know, I’m happy you’re here, Boney. Even if you do freak me out a little bit. Nobody else can come with me, you know. It would have made this next part pretty rough. No, it’s still going to be pretty rough. Isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand,” Boney said.

“There’s a world that needs saving, an ancient god of cruelty to finish off and a lot of people waiting for the Hero to save them.”

“And?” Boney asked.

“I certainly can’t do it like this,” Joan said. “And there’s a good chance I won’t survive if I just leave. Not now. But I have everything I need to know in my head already. I just need to get my body able to use it.”

“What?” Boney asked.

Joan gave a soft sigh and rolled her eyes. How did you even explain this to a lich? “Bad things are coming and I need to be strong enough to not die. That means I need to grow up a bit. So… keep me company? Also, I’ll probably need a training partner at times.”

“…”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Joan said before glancing towards the tapestry. The threads of the Chosen. “Wait for me,” Joan said before she turned and walked away. “Right, first thing’s first. Food. There’s got to be something, right?”

“Of course,” Boney said.

“Then let’s get this done! The sooner I finish, the sooner I can get out of here.”

------

Joan stood in the door to the realm, staring out from it.

Her heart pounded so loud she swore she could hear it. Searle was out there, of course he was. For him, only a second would have passed.

She’d promised she’d do her best. She hoped this would count. She wondered how long it had been for her. It felt like decades, though she found that unlikely. Probably only a few years. She’d given up trying to keep count of the days once she realized there was no real way to know how long she was gone. But she was ready.

Joan was faster, stronger, more capable than she’d ever been. She could even do Swanfall now, without hurting herself. She couldn’t match the power of the Chosen, no. But she’d be enough. All she needed to do was step out through the room and hope her preparations were enough.

She’d need Neia. She glanced back down the tunnel. Between Bauteut and Korgron, she’d be fine. She’d been so careful to not learn more than she could afford to lose.

Joan just hoped she was correct.

Joan stepped out through the doorway.

“Joan! You’re-- whoa.”

“I don’t have long,” Joan said quickly. No pain yet, yes. Maybe she was lucky and severing her thread meant the spell would miss her entirely. “Get Bauteut and Korgron. Get me to Neia. The real Neia. The Chosen of the Bow.”

“What?” Searle asked.

“SEARLE! Do it!” Pain shot through Joan’s head and she stumbled forward. There it was. She struggled to force her barriers up, to protect herself as best she could even as she felt memories being viciously torn away.

Searle caught her. “Joan? What… what happened? Why are you--”

“Searle, please,” Joan said before cringing. “No questions. I need you to… do this…” The pain flowing through her head made her give out another soft whine. She could feel her spells breaking under the pressure. “I know you can.”

“What—”

“Be my hero,” Joan said softly before the world seemed to be enveloped in darkness once more.