Archive of Our Own

Dying wasn’t a sensation that you really ever got used to, Serena mused.

Well, it wasn’t so much the dying as the coming back to life part. No matter how many times she’d been stabbed, shocked, or burnt alive, she could never get used to the gasping feeling of breath coming back into her lungs. The shock of it was almost like hitting the ground after a very, very long fall. Or, at least what she pictured that feeling to be.

Except that it was rather the opposite, really. But it didn’t make any sense when she tried to think about it that way.

Her first real experience with death (not her own, no, that came much later), was when she was an apprentice under Brother Cinna. She'd begun lessons with him as a healer when she was, oh, eight or so, once they'd seen where her aptitudes lay.

Arboria was generally a safe place, as long as you didn't exit the town proper, so the only injuries that typically came to the clinic were accidents: burns from the stove, twisted ankles, and the like. So, they usually weren't busy.

Brother Cinna had spent the time making sure Serena knew the ins and outs of healing, both mundane and magical. She spent months memorizing the properties of the plants used in the poultices and salves he made before she was ever allowed to make one on her own, and even longer learning the details of the human body before she could use her magic.

When she’d complained about the memorization, he’d turned to her with a serious look on his face. “Serena,” he said, “A poorly trained healer can do more harm than someone who knows nothing of the healing arts at all. Take a broken bone, for example. Someone with healing magic but no training could heal the bone, but without knowledge of how it works, they may end up setting it incorrectly, causing greater pain in the future. A healer has a responsibility, and right now, yours is to learn.”

Feeling properly chastened, she’d diligently memorized everything he’d given her.

One day, a few years after she'd started working under Brother Cinna, she was preparing a poultice under his watchful eye in the storeroom, when a great commotion arose in the front of the clinic. When they'd gone to see what had happened, she'd seen Calpurnia, one of the temple guards, being carried over Decius’ shoulder, her tunic bloody and torn.

The two of them had gone into the First Forest to retrieve an item for one of the ceremonies, but had been beset by far stronger monsters than they had been expecting. They’d fought their way almost back to the entrance when a jowler had gotten Calpurnia from behind, Decius explained as he lay her corpse on the clinic’s cot.

Serena watched in fascination as Brother Cinna nodded and knelt by the corpse. She’d known of Zing, of course, but this was the first time she’d seen the spell in action. He bent his head in prayer as glowing runes appeared around both himself and Calpurnia’s body. For a moment, it seemed to Serena as if the whole world was holding its breath, leaning into the clinic’s small room as an invisible pressure built. After a few short moments that felt like an eternity, the body was lifted up like a puppet on strings, and the glow brightened until Serena couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

When she could see again, Calpurnia was sitting upright on the bed. Decius had begun to fuss over her, and Brother Cinna took her to the back to give the friends time alone.

That day, she hadn’t been brave enough to ask what dying had felt like. She’d gone about her work quietly and seen no more of what happened that afternoon.

She’d never really thought that someday she would be the one casting Zing to bring the cooling corpses of her friends back to life. In all honesty, she’d never really believed she would leave Arboria. And she would be lying if she said there weren’t any days where the thought of what she was doing scared her to bits.

But the healer’s duty was to life, and her duty was to the Luminary. So, she kneeled down and raised her hands to the heavens, reviving him once again.

Serena casts Zing...

Erik remembered the first time he’d died all too well. He’d been young, just a few years after the Vikings had taken him and Mia in, but old enough to be taken out on a raid. Mia had been left behind, still too young to hold even a dagger properly and too small to do much more than get in the way aboard ship.

The seas had been rough, he remembered, and the wind bitterly cold.

He remembered the way the boat rocked under his feet, and the feel of the salt spray from the waves hitting his cheeks.

They were on their way back from the raid, having plundered a Valorian merchant ship for its cargo, when the boat shook.

They were no stranger to monster attacks—they couldn’t be, given they regularly went out to sea at night—but the monsters in the northern seas were strong. This looked to be the biggest monster Erik had ever seen, blue tentacles clutching the bow and eyes searching about for its next victim. With the men tired from a raid, this wouldn’t be an easy fight.

Erik’s job was largely to stay out of the way and help the men carry things, so he stood back, clutching the dagger he’d been given, and watched the fight. But as the boat rocked, he nearly lost his footing. His focus on staying upright meant that he missed the stray tentacle coming for him until it was too late.

The last thing he heard was a sickening crack, and then he knew no more.

He gasped for breath, reaching for his dagger, when he saw Mia staring down at him. She punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?”

She turned away. “You… you weren't moving and they had to take you to the statue and there was so much blood and—” She was trying to hide it, but her voice was shaking. It really must have been bad to upset her like this.

“Hey,” he said, cutting her off, “I’m okay now. I mean, my ribs still hurt, but—oof!” He'd been tackled with a hug. “What’d I just say? Careful with the ribs!”

The chief had said that he was lucky that they'd bothered to revive him, and that he may not be that lucky next time. He'd gotten half rations for the next week, as punishment for his “carelessness”.

That night, he had pulled Mia close, hoping desperately that she wouldn't have to see something like that happen again. He knew it wasn't likely, though, not with the life they led.

After he’d left, too, he learned quickly that no one would bring you back to life unless they thought they could get something out of you for it. So, when he woke up to find the boy who called himself the Luminary forking over gold to a goddess statue to bring him back to life, he braced himself for a price. But the boy went straight to checking on his wounds, and apologizing for letting Erik down.

As Erik sat by the campfire that night, unable to sleep, he looked at the sleeping face of his companion. The firelight played across his face, highlighting his scattered freckles and the roundness of his cheeks. Maybe the boy really was as pure as he looked, a true Luminary to the core.

He knew it then. He'd take a hundred hits and die a thousand times for that boy and what he represented. How could he not? For once in a very long time, Erik had hope. Hope that he could save Mia, hope for forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, hope that the whole world wasn't quite as rotten as it seemed.

Erik returns to life!

The Salty Stallion’s galley was filled with the sound of Erik and Veronica’s good-natured arguing. Sylvando smiled at this; they couldn’t be too worse for wear from their encounter with Jasper if they still had the energy to bicker.

And as for Jasper…

Well, he’d never met the man personally, at least until now, but he’d heard plenty of stories. Some were pleasant, stories of friendship and childhood mischief, while others were… less so. He counted them lucky to have made it out of there with nothing that couldn’t be fixed up with a Heal or three. That dark magic Jasper had been using was nasty business.

These kids were so strong. And they really were barely more than children, even if technically they may have had their majority. What had Erdrea come to, that children like these were sent on quests to save it?

You were younger than that when you left home, something in the back of his head reminded him. Alright, true enough, but he had been trained, for one, and second, he hadn’t been going on any heroic mission to fight the Dark One.

He shook his head. The lack of sleep was getting to him; he was positively morose.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden thud as something hit the ship. There was no shore to run aground on where they were—not that that would ever happen with Dave at the helm—so it must be monsters. Honestly, couldn’t there ever be smooth sailing for once?

Sylvando took off running as another crash came from above, with the others following close behind.

Upon reaching the deck, he sighed as he readied his whip. Of course it had to be mermen. Not only were their claws deadly to get too close to, but their ice magic made ranged fighting tricky. And none of them had had a proper chance to rest since the previous day, before they’d even arrived in Gondolia. This wouldn’t be an easy fight.

He was right.

Volleys of ice magic flew across the deck, and wind whipped up by Serena’s spells made the sails flap violently. The rocking of the ship made footing uncertain. More than once, it threatened to send them skidding directly into the mermen’s claws.

Somewhere along the way, he’d acquired a nasty gash in his leg that was dripping blood steadily. It throbbed as he moved to avoid the claws of a merman that had gotten too close and he grimaced in pain. There was no time for his own healing spells to work on it, and Serena was on the other side of the deck.

He heard a cry as Erik’s knives took out one of the mermen, and that momentary distraction was a moment just long enough for a merman to send another blast of ice magic his way. His leg failed him as he tried to dodge it, sending him sprawling to the ground as the ice hit him square in the chest. So much for—

When he came to from the nothingness of death, he saw Serena standing over him, looking worried. It seemed they’d moved him to the bed in his cabin, and judging from what he could see through the window, it was either dusk or early morning. He’d been out for a while, then.

“I’m so sorry Sylvando, I didn’t have enough magic to revive you at first, and then monsters kept attacking and we were out of magic waters, so now’s the first chance I’ve had to heal you. I’ve never revived anyone quite, well… quite so long dead before, so please let me know if you need any more healing.” She hesitated, clearly unsure of what to do.

He pushed himself up, with surprisingly little pain. Serena was a far better healer than she gave herself credit for. “Don’t worry about me sweetie, I’m fine. I’ve had much worse.” That time he broke his neck practicing that highwire stunt being the most embarrassing of his many deaths by far. “Although,” he looked down. “I think I’ll be needing a new tunic.” There was a large hole in the front of it, not to mention the blood staining the black and white fabric.

“Oh!” She blushed. “Ah, yes, I’ll leave you to it.” She left the room hurriedly, closing the door behind her.

As he sorted through his closet, he smiled. These kids would be just fine.

Sylvando returns to life!

Rab had gotten more practice casting Zing in the past sixteen years than he’d ever wanted to have.

He’d learned it as part of his training in Angri-La, but in the years before Dundrasil’s fall, the spell had been regarded as largely a novelty. No one actually needed to learn it, because the world was safe now, wasn’t it? Oh, the priests still knew it, of course, but that was more out of tradition than anything else, and was only ever needed in the case of household accidents. Even after Zwaardsrust, no one really thought something like that would happen again.

After Dundrasil, though, it was plain the world would never be the same. In his travels with Jade, he’d watched as monsters grew fiercer by the month and as kingdoms and towns put up higher and higher walls. Knowing how to revive the dead was an essential skill for anyone looking to brave the world outside city walls, and if you didn’t personally know it, then you hired someone who did. The two of them had been able to make good money from merchants by offering themselves as bodyguard and healer for that very reason.

He’d wished to spare Jade a life on the road, at first trying to convince her to stay and train at Angri-La, but she adamantly refused to leave him to search for answers on his own. To tell the truth, he wasn’t that sad, for although the prospect of keeping her safe worried him, it meant the journey would be far less lonely. A selfish thought it may have been, but to have her by his side reminded him what he was fighting for. He would find what broke the world, and help to build it anew.

Knowing there was scant chance they would never be killed on the journey didn’t make it any easier when Jade died the first time. They had been travelling to Gondolia, rushing to stay ahead of the setting sun. In his haste, Rab had missed the weartiger that had gotten behind Jade somehow.

The first warning they’d had was a cry from the beast that knocked them both off their feet.

Before they could act, it had clawed a gash through Jade’s side, and even as Rab took out his staff to heal her, she fell to the ground, dead.

The rest of the fight was a blur, but the image of Jade’s blood staining the wooden platforms was impossible to forget. She looked so small, lying there on the ground. She carried herself with such maturity that it was easy to forget exactly how young she was some days. Just like so many of the other children of Erdrea who had grown up too soon.

He’d gotten plenty more practice with Zing since then, on Jade and others. He’d fallen plenty of times himself, but the deaths that hurt him most were the ones he couldn’t heal. His wife (disease, one thing that magic couldn’t fix), Eleanor, Irwin (he’d never found their bodies), and his grandson, all lost to him forever. Or, so he had thought.

He’d missed out on so much of his grandson’s life, but seeing him alive and well made up for it, every day. With him, and the friends he had made along the path of his journey, it no longer seemed like they had such a daunting task ahead.

There was no end to evil, it seemed sometimes. They'd found the monster Mordegon masquerading himself as his old friend Carnelian. The source of so much darkness, hiding in plain sight. He'd known that Carnelian had changed, but he never thought this would be why.

And even after they'd defeated him, the one who had caused so many deaths, razed kingdoms to the ground, and torn families apart, there was still the Erdwin’s Lantern hanging in the sky. It seemed that there would be no rest for them yet, he thought as they set out to find the last of Yggdrasil’s seedlings. But soon they would take on Calasmos, and finally, finally root out the evil that had tormented Erdrea. Come hell or high water, he would do all in his power to fix the world, for the sake of those who would be living in it.

Rab casts Kazing!

Nothing in Jade’s twenty-four years of life had ever left her quite as dumbfounded as she had been that afternoon in Octagonia, when she’d looked across the arena to see the Luminary’s mark on her opponent’s hand. The mark that had been on the hand of the boy she once would have called her brother. The boy who had died in the river, sixteen years and two months ago.

Who hadn't died at all, if she believed what was in front of her.

She hadn't fully believed it until she was diving off a cliff with him in her arms: not quite sure that he wasn't a vision, that the whole thing wasn't some dream to be lost when morning broke. But the heartbeat pounding in her ears was real, and the cold shock of the rushing water assured her that this was no fleeting dream.

Her arms cramped as she dragged him out of the river, slinging him over her shoulder so she could get him to the cabin she knew was nearby. But she paid it no heed; he was alive! He was alive, and she would never let him go again.

Her memories of exactly what had happened after she’d lost him were foggy at best, and all too clear at worst.

She’d been three-quarters of the way to death and all of the way unconscious when Rab fished her out of that river, waking up only as he picked her up. He’d carried her in his arms as he’d run to the boats that were carrying the few survivors of the massacre. She had screamed her voice hoarse, begging him to go back, to let her look for him, please, please, please!

Rab had only held her tight, and when she’d run out of breath to cry, said, “I won’t lose you too.” The look on his face was full of so much pain and sorrow that she’d lost all the anger she held in that moment.

The two of them cried together on that boat, cried over the loved ones they’d lost, cried over the lives that would no longer be, cried over the shattering of their worlds.

Later, once they’d seen what her father had become, she’d dried the last of her tears and promised that she would make this right. She would be strong, strong enough that she wouldn’t have to let anyone die again.

The next sixteen years had been spent in a desperate search for answers, spanning the continents, from Hotto to Phnom Nohn and from Sniflheim to the ruins of Zwaardsrust. Throughout it all, she’d kept the memory of the almost-brother that she’d lost alive in her mind, fueling her drive onwards.

She never would have thought that she’d find him again, much less find him fighting in Octagonia on a search of his own. She’d long since given up on that hope. And then to fight alongside him, against Hendrik, of all people… Well, it would have seemed impossible, if she hadn’t just done it.

She set him down gently in the cabin’s bed, marveling at how much he looked like Lady Eleanor. The eyes, the hair… He was her spitting image, at least from what she remembered. She'd thought this boy long gone, far beyond her reach, but somehow, beyond all odds, here he was again.

As she looked at his sleeping face, she found the memories of the past stronger than ever. A warmth filled her chest, and she felt newly determined to fight to take down the evil that had caused so much pain for so long.

She sneezed. Right, she was still soaked through with river water. If she didn’t want them to fall to hypothermia, she’d better get an actual fire started.

Jade returns to life!

Something about the form of the monster they were to confront nagged at the back of Hendrik’s mind.

As had happened when they’d gone through the prior trials, Drustan’s spirit awaited them in that ominous hall. He’d greeted them, and, as every time previous, asked them if they were prepared for the fight ahead. When the Luminary had nodded, he’d summoned a beast which, while smaller than some they had fought here, was no less fearsome.

The thing was unsettlingly human, Hendrik noted as he took his stance. Everything about it struck him as familiar, but he was certain he’d never seen it before. Its face… Were it not for the shadow obscuring its features, Hendrik was sure he would have known it. But from where?

From a dream? Perhaps. He wouldn’t have put it past Drustran’s ghost to have the power to pluck monsters from nightmares.

His dreams had been odd of late. Full of strange images and even stranger foes. Fighting endless hordes of monsters under a darkened sky with their red eyes piercing the gloom, the sight of which woke him in the dead of night. But, what haunted him most was the vision of the World Tree falling as he watched, knowing that it was his actions that had led to Her death.

The images of a Heliodor razed, its walls reduced to rubble and the castle in ruins, were no easier to bear, some nights. It reminded him far too much of the other ruined kingdoms he’d seen.

Sometimes, it felt as thought he was fated as to always be at the site of such massacres. Death had dogged at his heels since he was a boy, a looming specter over his life.

The memories of his boyhood in Zwaardsrust were few and far between, most lost to the passage of time. He remembered the sound of his mother’s lullaby, the excitement when he'd gone to the market with his father, and the taste of the fresh-baked bread, even if he no longer knew what his mother looked like, or where that market had been.

He remembered his father hiding him in the root cellar, but he couldn't remember his final words.

Dundrasil, too. Another once-great kingdom brought low by the forces of evil while he was powerless to stop it. He'd failed to even see the changes in his king and his dearest friend after that fateful night. His actions had come so close to dooming the world, and would have, had the boy he so derided as “Darkspawn” not been able to push against it.

And perhaps that was what his dreams were showing him. His fears of a world where the confrontation on Yggdrasil’s boughs had gone ever so slightly different, and what that would have done.

He shook his head. He needed to pay attention, or the battle here would be lost.

The beast, Overweening Pride, as Drustan had named it, was fierce indeed. Its dark lance and silver sparks brought him and his companions to their knees again and again, but they struggled on.

But, as the battle raged, the winged creature got the upper hand.

Before the party could even act, the monster clawed savagely, knocking him to the ground. He watched as first Serena fell to the beast’s dark magic, then Erik. In the heat of battle there was no time to call Rab in to revive them, and as he watched, the Luminary fell too before he could even move to take the blow in his place.

His talents did not lie especially in the healing arts, but once, he'd asked Serena and she’d taught him some magic for precisely this situation. What good was his strength if not to protect those he held dear?

He steeled himself for the pain and cast the runes before all went black and a cold gripped his heart.

The next thing he knew, Drustan was speaking. “I salute thee. Thou didst fight valiantly. But...” He didn't even hear the rest of the dead monarch's speech, such was his relief at their victory, however hardwon.

He would fight to the last to save this world, even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.

Hendrik casts Kerplunk!

Veronica watched the blast approach, knowing she’d done all she could. Now, it was up to them.

Somehow, it wasn’t entirely a surprise, she thought. She had felt something like this coming ever since the moment they'd stepped back into Arboria. There had been this feeling, this certain knowledge that she wouldn't be seeing that place again.

It didn't mean she wanted to be right, though.

Months ago now, she'd had a dream. Her and Serena, and a boy that, in that way of dream logic, she had just known was the Luminary, facing into an endless abyss. When she woke, she had simply known that they needed to leave. As the reincarnations of Serenica, they had a duty to help the Luminary on his quest. At least, that's how she'd put it to the priests.

It had taken so much convincing for her and Serena to be allowed to leave on this quest. She'd spent weeks preparing arguments for exactly why they should be allowed to go, why they needed to go. They'd all still been so concerned about their safety, and what if they were needed here? Honestly. This was so much bigger than mere safety. Couldn’t they see that?

At one point, when Veronica was certain her arguments had failed, Father Benedictus had stood up. In a voice that echoed through the chamber, he said, “I have seen the days ahead, and they will not be easy. This is a quest that they need to go on, that we need them to go on. The Luminary is out there, and he will need the skills of the twins to protect him from the machinations of the Dark One!”

No one else had anything to say after that.

There had still been at least a week or two’s worth of preparations for the journey ahead of them. A journey where they didn't even know where they were going. Her dreams and Serena's senses had given them the vague direction of south, but nothing beyond that. They would have to hope that Yggdrasil would provide them with guidance as they went. They were on a sacred mission after all. Surely She would help them out a little.

The night before they left, her mother had pulled her aside in the hall, before she could go to bed. “Veronica,” she’d said, “Protect your sister. There's a long road ahead of you, and you'll need to rely on each other. Promise me that you'll be careful?”

She'd promised, of course. But she hadn't known quite how right her mother had been, until now.

The journey hadn’t been easy by any means. More than once she’d wondered how they were going to get out of a fight alive, and more than once she’d ended up flat on her back from exhaustion after the fight was over. But it had been the best time of her life, too. The people she’d met, the places she’d seen… Well, she wouldn’t give them up for anything.

It was her duty to protect them.

Veronica watched as death stared her in the face, and she smiled. She had seen her friends face down the most terrifying of monsters and come out on top. She had seen them wounded and dying and still fighting on. Mordegon wouldn't be able to take them down.

It's up to you now, everyone.

The sinister light of the Dark One’s magic filled her vision. She had a few seconds left, maybe less. But she didn’t regret a thing.

Goodbye.

Then, the world ended.

But Veronica doesn't come back to life!

A boy stepped out into the rolling foothills of Heliodor, leading his horse by the reins. He was young, freshly sixteen, and this was his first time going out into the wide world. His eyes were bright and clear, and he gripped his sword tightly, aware of the dangers that would lie ahead of him. Well. Some of the dangers.

There would be things to come that he could never foresee, some good, some bad, and some that were a mix of the two. He would meet strangers who would become fast friends, and he would make deadly enemies. He would grow strong, learn magic not seen in centuries, and his skill with a sword would be unparalleled.

He stumbled over a tree root as he walked.

Across Erdrea, there were people whose very lives and destinies he would change. He would come to be heralded as a savior, a hero, a warrior of light. He would stop to help people in every village, town, and city, and for that he would be beloved. He was Yggdrasil's chosen, and he would shine with the brilliance of stars.

He sneezed as his horse kicked up a cloud of dust.

It would be difficult, but the journey would bring so much happiness in the end. He would feel anguish beyond measure and joy beyond counting, and through it all he would rise to every challenge that he faced, but not just by himself. He would have friends and allies that loved him like a family behind him, and that was a type of magic on its own. He would bleed for them, and they for him.

He smiled as a butterfly flew by.

But he didn't know any of that yet. For now, he was just a boy from Cobblestone who had gone to seek his destiny. And what a destiny it would be.

The Luminary casts Zing…