Faces, Webs, and Headings

[Benreeder]

Jack sat at his workbench, the lantern keeping the darkness at bay while he scribbled in his journal during the simmering process for his latest potion. The whir-whir-click of his new mechanical timer was a comforting sound as he basked in the warmth of the wagon’s small stove and the return of his mental faculties. Remembering almost everything from the past year was a good feeling, even if there were some blank spaces. And, of course, new friends were always good.

It helped to fight back the chill he still felt at the sight of Sha’rin on the list of worlds the Void had on its to-destroy list. Foiling the Guardian’s plans had become that much more personal then, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only person who felt that way. He’d come to love Astrel over the past two years or so, and traveling through the Ancuram lands had only deepened his affection for his new home. He glanced over at the mask he’d painted at the Faces ritual, and gave himself a moment to remember the sound of Callista’s voice through it. How it had taken her visage perfectly, and spoken to him as if she was truly there, not some figment of his maddened ravings. He’d told her farewell that last night it had spoken to him, when he felt his grip on the Real tightening, and it had given him a sense of peace, like she knew he still loved her, but was moving on because he had to, not because he wanted to.

The moon-cycle he’d spent in near madness had also made him kinder, such that when he faced the Sage Edd, he never once thought of how it might profit him or his friends to help the Sage. All he saw was a being who suffered, and his first desire was to help, just as it had been long ago. It had helped cement his growing friendship with Mu’kon, and had made his conversation with Verrin take an unexpected turn. He thought of Tyr, then, and hoped that they would stay on. The big warrior had some distinctly Ilyani traits, and the conversations had been easy.

He turned his attention back to his ledger and the rituals and recipes he’d acquired while they had stopped at the border. Trading with the Ancuram, bartering goods for goods without the hindrance of coin, had been a refreshing change, and he felt that he’d made his best bargains that day. He took a drink from his bottle of dark ale and returned his focus to his work. Things were getting more serious, and he would need every resource at his disposal to help Meadowmere save Astrel and several other worlds from the Guardian’s twisted designs. His pen fell to the page once more, ink weaving trails of knowledge across the page.

• This topic was modified 4 months, 2 weeks ago by Benreeder.

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