CHAPTER 765: THE NATURE OF GRIEF

Jesse turned toward the sunset, hands clasped behind her back. Her lips rose in a small, musing smile.

"Roseburn, huh? It’s a start. If we ever make it to the Southern Continent, I’ll have to pay their estate a visit."

"Wait," I said, looking up. She raised an eyebrow, and I quickly looked away.

"Are you...a...an inquisitor?"

She blinked, absently touching her hair. "I’m an apostle."

"But I...sorry."

"Don’t worry about things like that, it won’t get you anywhere. All you need to know is that I’m currently looking for some people, and you gave me a few tips. I’ll remember that."

Without another glance, she melted into shadow, disappearing from view. I was still against Fable, panting lightly, staring at the scroll on the ground, left where she’d been standing. It took me almost five minutes to realize she never shared what she knew about the state of the Divine Realms.

After a few more minutes of silence, I tentatively took it, holding it up to the starlight with a trembling hand. The words were cracked and faded, the parchment brittle. I read silently, mouthing the words.

Esteemed King of Brithlite, and Lord of the Circle. I apologize for the late reply. It took some preparation to secure the records. The inquisitors had them under file, at the Pope’s orders. The following is what I was able to find.

The slave in question was acquired on the Fasstine Road, in transit to the primary facility. The employee in question noted a flash of golden light and a powerful magic circle. The slave then appeared, clothed in a fine gown of unknown fabric and a spatial ring. She was seized while still unconscious, stripped of all possessions, and caged. She was awake a week later when she was transferred to the facility where she was held.

The files had nothing for almost four months, until the day she was purchased by the sun hero. A buyer had come to inspect goods for a monthly auction and was engaged by the slave. She was promptly punished, resulting in a mortal injury. Lady Kaitlyn, unknowingly acting for the good of the world, took it upon herself to use her as an example for the others. Unfortunately, the Sun Hero and his retinue came upon this scene. It’s uncertain whether he recognized her or if it was pure misfortune that drove him to claim her. Whatever the case, the rest is as recorded in the inquisitor’s report filed upon her judgment and sentencing during the Sun Festival some six months ago.

Six months after the festival? That would have put it close to the time I escaped into Heartland, perhaps when Vithrass first discovered me.

Consider your favor repaid, King of Brithlite. I was forced to draw upon some rather unsavory connections to retrieve this information, and still wasn’t able to find what happened to the ring or her dress. Sold, I assume. But Inquisitors are never easy to deal with, especially when they have every dirty secret in your house. Sometimes, I think trading one daughter wasn’t enough. I should have given them my son, too. Perhaps, when this war settles down, I’ll send him to you. He could stand to learn how to be a master of his own house.

–Lord Cosin, fourth link of the Southern Circle

I let the letter fall from my hands into my lap, leaning my head back against Fable. A few tears continued to trickle down my cheeks.

Someone had written over the letter with red ink, circling the house crest of Roseburn at the bottom several times. The line was dark and agitated, tearing the parchment in places, with a question mark next to it. Jessia’s handwriting?

My stomach twisted as I reread the report. Why had Alverin requested an account of my time in the warehouse? Was he just that interested, or was there some deeper significance I couldn’t see? Did he just want more fuel in the fire? Another memory to dredge up and break me with?

There was an even more pressing question: Why did Jessia have a report that would have been squarely in Alverin’s possession? Did it have a connection to her goal in Brithlite?

I groaned, rubbing my horn. Maybe I was overthinking it all. We had seen the same vision, and yet had two totally separate experiences. The only common factor between us was the Roseburns. She seemed interested in them, and from her notes on the crest, it seemed she didn’t know who they were. Now, she did. Was that connection purely coincidental?

The tent flap opened, and R’lissea stepped out. She gasped softly, dropping to her knees at my side. She took my hand, squeezing it gently.

"Are you alright? Did Jessia come?"

"I’m fine. Just..." I paused, looking up at her. "When you were summoned, did you have a spatial ring?"

She blinked, taken aback. "Uh, yeah. I think we all did. The Life God gave me a dress, too. It was kind of cute, but not really my thing. I’m guessing you didn’t?"

I shook my head. "I don’t know. I woke up in a wagon wearing rags, but I think...I think I must have. I was just, um, unlucky."

She pursed her lips. "The ring contained a lot of helpful items and information. There were a few books with spells the elves had never heard of, and instructions on the functions of my abilities. There were also more mundane items, like rations and a cloak for poor weather."

Wordlessly, I handed her the scroll.

"What’s this? A letter?" She took it and scanned the contents. Her brow furrowed the more she read. Her grip tightened, crinkling the parchment.

"Who gave this to you?" she asked quietly.

"Jessia. I think she found it in Brithlite. She wanted to know whose crest that was," I said.

Tears filled her eyes. "I didn’t know any of that! You must have been so alone. I just... I can’t imagine..."

The letter crumpled as she clenched her fists. I bit my lip, lip quivering.

"I didn’t tell you?"

"No! You haven’t told us anything. I know a little of what happened since Heartland, but nothing of High Valley or traveling with Soltair. I only know about Aurle because Luke told me. And he doesn’t even know what happened."

"Knowing what happened won’t change anything. It won’t bring her back." I whispered.

Her expression softened. "No, but grief demands a witness. And you have so, so very much to grieve."

"I can’t. I can’t forget it. I can’t forget her."

"That’s not how it works. I don’t know what’s going on behind those golden eyes of yours, but I do know you haven’t forgiven yourself yet. You’ve tried so hard to bury everything so deep you won’t have to face it, and yet you do. I can see it in your face, in your eyes, every time someone mentions a word or name that reminds you. Every time you have a dream or a vision. Can’t you see it, Xiv? You relive it all over again, experiencing the pain and loss, and yet being powerless to change what happened."

She wrapped an arm around my shoulder, drawing me against her side. I sniffed, tail curling around her waist. She smiled sadly, rubbing my shoulder.

"I can promise you something, Xiv. You won’t ever forget the atrocities of your past, no matter how much you try. And I don’t think you’re supposed to. Healing isn’t about forgetting the pain. It’s about moving on in spite of it. No matter what you choose, there will be pain. You can have the pain of carrying it, or the pain of growing through it, and letting it go."

"I’ve tried to do that," I sniffed. "But it never works. No matter how many times I decide, I’m always back where I started."

"That’s what I’m saying," she said gently. "You carry your burdens with you. Is it any surprise that when you turn around, it’s still there?"

"But I..."

She smiled, hand rising to stroke my cheek. I looked away, biting my lip hard.

"Would you tell me about it? Just something small, like what happened in the vision? What did you see that scared you so much?"

I dragged my sleeve across my eyes. The gesture was futile, as more tears. Every instinct urged me to reject her offer, to turn and bury my face in Fable’s fur. But something she said had struck me.

Grief demands a witness.

I thought back to Heartland, when I’d finally gotten the courage to tell the Glory Chasers who I was and what I’d done. Even though I’d been terrified they would reject me, it felt like a weight had been taken from my shoulders. And from then on, even until now, I haven’t felt guilt for my actions at Western University the same way. I was sad for the loss of life, but I was at least with my choice.

I wiped the tears away again and took a long, deep breath. "I-I can’t."

"You can. You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? Afraid that if you share your darkest depths, your most vulnerable self, that I’ll use them to hurt you."

I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Do you trust me, Xiv? Will you show me your scars?"

Did I trust her? My lips parted, but no answer came out. How could I trust anyone with those secrets? Every time I had, hadn’t I just been hurt?

But this was R’lissea. The one who had voluntarily been captured by demons for my sake, and spent months nursing me back to health. The one who hugged me and who brushed my hair every morning. The one who let me use her dress to dry my tears. My mind might be saying no, but my heart says yes.

I bowed my head, my voice small, "Okay."