11: Of Pathos

“Who are you?” Ahn brandished his staff, aethermagic flaring in the near darkness.

“Stop it.” The chill, flat voice of the young woman standing between him and his guardian and the atrium’s exit echoed into the unnatural silence. “Magic will only call the darkness. Listen to me, or we will all perish. Put out the magelamp, too.”

She dropped her hand, making no further move to stop him.

“Why should I trust you?” Ahn spat.

Moya rushed to his side, taking up a defensive stance next to him, drawing the dagger she kept at her right side.

“No magic, eh?” Moya said. “My blade isn’t mage-treated, so I won’t hesitate to cut you to ribbons if you try anything funny.”

“You think ahead in bringing a non-mage-tempered weapon. Good,” the young woman said, looking at Moya’s dagger approvingly. At least Ahn assumed it was approval since her face was difficult to read.

“Follow me, please,” she said. “I’m here for the good of Ahra, and I won’t let you impede what I must do to stop this evil.”

“Stop this evil?” Ahn echoed.

“What are you talking about?” Moya’s eyes widened in confusion.

“We are not safe here,” Seshka said. “Will you follow, or must I resort to drastic measures to secure your cooperation?”

Ahn looked at the girl, feeling the weight of her words, the unflinching purpose in her tone. This Seshka meant every word she said. Though her expression might be blank, he realized that there was no deception in her ancient-young eyes.

“We will follow for now,” Ahn said, glancing at Moya, who lifted her chin in acknowledgement.

“Good,” the girl said, nodding in more obvious approval. “This way.”

Seshka led them through the temple atrium and out a service door into a narrow hallway. She stooped to pick up a stub of a candle that waited, flickering in its brass holder, and illuminated their steps as they walked down a narrow, sloping corridor.

“In here.” She opened a door with a wheezing creak of disused hinges. Stale air wafted outward from the room’s gaping maw, the smell of dust and wood-rot carried with the cold.

“I’m not going in there,” Moya said, voice hard.

“Then stay out here and meet your death.” Seshka directed a sharp frown over her shoulder.

“Come, Moya,” Ahn said, taking her by the hand.

She did not pull away; her calloused hand—the hand of a career soldier—curled tightly over his. They followed Seshka through a narrow entry into what looked like a dungeon, the door creaking as it closed behind them. Moya startled at the noise of the lock clicking into place, and Ahn shuddered.

“You may light your candles,” Seshka commanded. The sound of struck flints sounded all around them. Ahn gasped in surprise. They were not alone.

“What the—” Moya started. Seated in rickety chairs or on supply crates, a small crowd of youths—Xereth, Sylvan, and Empyrean elves; a pair of Sionnach who looked like siblings with matching gray fur, two humans, and a solitary Merrow girl, her yellow eyes huge and glassy in the light—sat, looking expectantly at them.

“Why?” Ahn asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re all so young. Are you hurt? Are you alone here?” His voice cracked on the words.

“They’re all like you, Seshka, aren’t they?” Moya asked softly. Her hand slipped from Ahn’s and she moved forward, pity melting away her fear.

“You see it, then,” Seshka said, her girlish voice disproportionately heavy. “We won’t hurt you, not unless we have to, but we need you. We need you more than anyone in Ahra, Ahndras Frost. By the Source’s will or otherwise, you are now the only one who can help us.”

Ahn took a quick look around at all those youthful but hollow faces, eyes dark and haunted beyond the children’s years. Every doubt he had slipped away at that moment. He turned to Seshka, resolute.

“You have my attention. Tell us what this is all about.”

“We came here from the Dominion. We are orphans who were brought into the ‘care’ of the Thaumaturgy Laboratory’s chief aethermage, Madame Felsin, who experimented on us. Who tore our souls from our bodies and wrecked our memories. But we had help. A woman came to us—she was like St. Eskala herself, bringing money and instructions and a charged portal focus she’d gotten from someone in the Dominion military.”

“But why travel here?” Moya cut in during the girl’s pause.

“We had no choice. We activated the focus as instructed, directed toward Reshk in Canrish. But something happened. This horrible green light, the smell of rot.”

“Kraah magic,” Moya muttered.

“I suspect it to be the case, yes. Somehow, we all ended up here, standing in the middle of your temple garden. There was something wrong here. Something evil.”

“The corruption that has been spreading even into Duskmere,” Ahn said, frowning. “But I did not sense corruption. The entire temple was neutral when we arrived. It should not be possible.”

Seshka’s lips thinned in what looked like disgust. “One of the side effects of whatever Felsin did to me is that some of my spells are more powerful than ever. I’m an aethermage with a gift for illusion. What you saw was what I needed people to see because I think we are being followed. I’ve felt it since we arrived. There is a presence…”

“A presence?” Ahn moved closer, eyes intense.

“We have all seen it,” Seshka whispered, turning for a moment toward the silent circle of children. “A woman. Cruel, bloodthirsty, and everywhere she steps, winter follows.”

“Not you, too. How?” Moya stared at the girl in horror.

“Larkwing,” Ahn hissed. “She is the one who did this to us. Somehow, she’s here…”

“But she’s dead. She died, right, Ahn?” Moya stuttered, grasping his shoulder.

“Hmm. I know that name,” Seshka said thoughtfully. “The procedures Felsin used in her experiments—pneuma fission, pneuma fusion—these magics allow a person to fragment souls. Felsin talked about someone named Larkwing as her mentor, I think. And yes, she mentioned that this person had died. Felsin said something about Larkwing trying to extract souls and make herself powerful, all using Kraah spells. A Dominion general helped Larkwing and Felsin, and she stole the work of a leymage who had died years before in his own experiments of the same nature.”

“This Larkwing must have been using the magic in leytemples to add to that stolen power,” Ahn said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Anyone she touched with her magic is affected. And I would bet it’s why Seshka’s portal focus did not work. Darkness called to her and the others. The corruption is so much worse than any of us realized because that monster’sbeing lives on in all of us. The Dregs, the Awakened, the town portal shutting down would all make a sick sort of sense.”

“I am sorry,” Seshka said, her tone bleak. “I did not know any of this would happen. We just wanted to be free. I came only to you because when we arrived in this place, I scouted, found the town. I heard talk of a new guardian arriving and coaxed out as many names and details as I felt it safe to do. Lucky for me, I look like a student in one of your mageguilds.”

Sorrow flickered through the girl’s eyes, her pain suddenly clear. In an instant it was gone, but it gave Moya time to decide.

“I won’t let this happen to another Ahran being as long as I have anything to say about it,” Moya said, voice stronger than before. “This has to end.”

Ahn sighed, a long, weary exhalation that caught Moya’s attention. His eyes were shadowed, lines of exhaustion even more pronounced than before. He looked defeated.

“Ahn? What is wrong?” Moya touched his shoulder lightly. Something in his demeanor worried her.

“I think I know what I have to do,” he said flatly. Ahn hesitated, then stood a little taller, laughing. The sound was strange against the quiet of the leytemple’s dank cellar rooms.

“For the first time in my life, the world depends on me doing what everyone else in the world would put me in shackles to prevent.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Moya said, voice cracking.

“You’ll absolutely hate it,” Ahn said with another of those hollow chuckles. “But I’ve always wondered if it’s something I could pull off.”

“I’m your guardian. If what you’re contemplating is this horrible, I can’t let you do it.”

“I’ll have to defy your wishes, then,” Ahn said, eyes strangely bright. “You see how those other children haven’t said a word? You know how Seshka here can’t seem to feel anything for more than a moment or two before she goes cold again? I can help them. I know how to make this right.” Ahn leaned close to Moya. “Sure, this might be forbidden magic. But all over Ahra, there are people who look the other way when they need these spells done for profit, for power. You know. The normal reason for such things to exist.”

“Ahn, you’re scaring me,” Moya said, drawing away from him. The intensity of his expression, the lightness of his voice in contrast with the words he was speaking, spiked her pulse and sent shivers of foreboding up and down her arms.

“You should be scared,” he said. “I’ll put this simply: the only way to save the children, to safeguard us, is an aether spell of reawakening. It’s what created those monsters in the milestone clearing, and it’s what summons undead. It’s the spell that gives aethermages like me such a terrible name.”

“That is dark, dangerous magic,” Moya whispered, not trusting herself to speak more.

“Not dark, not necessarily. At least not what I’d be doing. But dangerous?” He shrugged, eyes shining with emotion. “I may not survive. If I do, I may never be able to access my leymagic again.”

“Why would you risk such a thing?” Moya asked, panic rising, tightening her voice in her throat.

“Because it would be worth the cost. You see those children. And how many more are there like them? What I would do is not create monsters but reawaken the soul shards that Larkwing and her student stole from these people. I would put myself in the arms of the aether with you guarding me, and I would call out to all the lost pieces of the people she and the others Seshka talked about hurt and shatter our bonds with whatever of her remains. Because she connected with me so deeply, and because I’m an experienced aether leymage, I can do this. Don’t you see?”

“See what?” Moya hated the hurt and fear she heard in her own voice.

“I truly am the only hope for Seshka and the others. I don’t care if it seems dark or evil because it’s not. Because I’m not evil. I do not fear that I will do any harm.” Ahn hesitated, eyes downcast.

Moya moved closer, her voice gentle. “Whatever comes next, we face it together.” The quiet promise hung warmly between them.

They stood for a moment in silence, dust hanging like fairy-wisps in the candlelight. Moya risked a glance at his face, pale in the dim storeroom. His shoulders relaxed, his expression softened. He was Ahn again—so gentle, and from the little she knew of him, unflinchingly kind.

“Thank you,” he finally said, then reached for her hand.

She looked down at their entwined fingers, warm brown and pale linen skin, woven together in a gesture of comfort and shared trust. And affection, Moya thought, surprised. This was someone she realized she could come to think of as a friend… someone she could see herself caring about in the coming days far beyond her oath of duty.

“Tell us what we need to do to make this happen,” she said. “Tell me exactly what it involves. I’ll help however I can.”

“You are a wonderful guardian, Moya Anders.” Ahn smiled, his entire visage melting into gratitude and warmth that Moya felt right down to her toes. “I think I’m ready to save the world.”