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The trip to the capital of Hyland and the closest human settlement went, for the most part, uneventfully. Boringly, almost: there were no strong enemies left in Rayfalke Spiritcrest after the dragon that turned the summit into his nest was subdued and returned to his original form. If anything, the trip was mostly defined by the battle fatigue and, in Eizen’s case, the awkwardness of an uncharacteristically quiet Edna walking by his side. When someone nudged her playfully about it, Edna just rolled her eyes and told him to be quiet. The boy—Mikleo, was it?—seemed taken aback by her mild response, as if he’d expected more of a reaction.
As the party walked down the mountain and made their way through Falkewin Hillside, questions about Eizen’s life and how the world used to be came at him, with Zaveid occasionally adding commentary to the answers. For the most part, however, Eizen stayed silent, watching his sister from the corner of his eye and trying to come up with small talk to break the ice. Everything Eizen thought of, however, felt too out of place. The weather? Obviously good, now that the huge source of malevolence that disturbed it was gone. How did Edna feel? Eizen’s worst fears had come true, trapping Edna under his draconic shadow for centuries. There was no way that, after that, his sister would be “fine”.
The sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon by the time the party arrived at Ladylake. Upon entering, Eizen’s face softened, a faint smile appearing on his face. His last visit coincided with the Death Age, so he did not miss the purer air and lack of oppressive malevolence. The famous city of water had been completely tainted by the ooze of malevolence back then, tightening Eizen’s chest and burning the little skin that he left uncovered by his clothes. It gladdened Eizen to see Ladylake this clean again, to hear that there was a new Lord of the Land holding strong and keeping malevolence at bay, despite Maotelus’ daemonization.
Sorey and Rose decided to book two rooms at Shaorune Inn, one with two individual beds and the other with a single bed. Though Eizen could dwell inside Sorey like the rest of the malakhim, as the perfect solution to his lack of a pure vessel, Eizen had ultimately declined the offer. He preferred small items that he could carry with himself, like his now lost kharlan coin. They were always far more convenient vessels than living beings.
Eizen’s refusal wasn’t just a matter of freedom of movement, but explaining why it felt like a transgression, like giving up the wheel of his ship, meant having to broach topics from a now ancient age that he preferred not to. And though Eizen understood that Sorey was different from the Abbey exorcists, who pushed the whole over the individual and treated malakhim as mere tools that could be discarded after breaking, who would have never wasted time on dragon purification, that didn’t change his feelings.
It really wasn’t personal. Truth be told, Sorey was strikingly unique, and not just because of his excellent resonance or ability to pact with several malakhim. Eizen had just met him, but the kid was pure of heart and radiated a certain warmth that drew you to him. Though often naïve, Sorey was also so genuine that it made anyone want to support him. Eizen could see why Edna and Zaveid joined him, and why they trusted him.
Eizen’s refusal had, of course, stirred quite a commotion within the group. Edna wasn’t fazed, and neither was Zaveid, understanding shining in his eyes, but it blindsided everyone else, especially the other two malakhim and Sorey. Eizen understood Lailah’s warning, understood that he could be less lucky next time, that smaller daemons were small fry when it came to purification in comparison to fully materialized dragons. But this wasn’t only the best choice for him, it was also for everyone: making a pact with a Reaper only led to ruin.
And besides, pact or no pact, Reaper’s curse or not, Eizen thought of himself as a pirate—or former pirate—before he did as a malak. Even if he was worried about Maotelus and would like to help him if possible, Eizen was sure that his way of life didn’t align with a Shepherd’s. They were meant to bump heads if Eizen stayed, in the same manner that he had clashed with countless people before, such as Zaveid.
Bidding the others goodnight and entering his own room, a gush of warm air welcomed Eizen. He threw a glance around, examining the room. It was on the modest side, fair for its price, with only three lamps and a few paintings of Ladylake to cover the walls.
Eizen hung his coat on a nearby chair and deposited his gloves and bracelet on the table right beside it, before he kicked off his boots and threw himself on the single bed against the back wall of the room. Worn out from both age and severe use, the mattress sank considerably under his weight, but Eizen was far too used to sleeping on solid hard ground and against ruined walls not to find having an actual bed a luxury, regardless of its state.
Eizen turned to the ceiling, following with his eyes the patterns of golden-brown flowers and leaves drawn on it. He felt adrift, as if someone woke him up on a rudderless ship surrounded by a foggy sea and no way to control the course. The day felt too long and too short at the same time. Now, left alone with nothing else but his own thoughts, Eizen needed to confront the question that he once thought would never need an answer: “Now what?”
Eizen slid his arms under his head and let out a long sigh. He hadn’t felt like this since he left Rayfalke Spiritcrest and Edna to wander around the continents in search of a way to lift the Reaper’s curse. Becoming a dragon was the ultimate risk for any malak who decided to associate with humans and their malevolence, the end of their presumably immortal life, and that was something that Eizen had accepted long before most of his saviors had been alive.
Zaveid had called this his second chance to live, told him that he needed to make the most of it, but the world Eizen had been brought back to had long left him behind. This Glenwood was one that had lost all knowledge of sea navigation, a Glenwood that had forgotten everything about pirates and the Van Eltia. Even his former captain, Eizen had learned, had become a distorted memory: all that remained of Aifread was a road along a cliff that overlooked the sea named after him, everything else nothing but crazy fables completely removed from reality.
Which meant that, incidentally, the only substantial ties that remained of Eizen’s former life were his enemy-turned-friend—or however he was supposed to describe Zaveid—and his connection to his sister.
Zaveid hadn’t made up on his promise on time, but Eizen knew that he couldn’t blame him: if you weren’t careful, trying to kill a dragon would get you killed instead or, worse, turned into a dragon too. Likewise, Phoenix had ultimately left Edna entrusted to a Shepherd who fought against dragons and even the Lord of Calamity himself, but Eizen couldn’t blame him either: protecting Edna was always supposed to be a simple petition, not an order.
Yet, even if Eizen knew all of this, understanding the logical order of events didn’t change how he felt about his plans blowing up in the worst ways possible.
Eizen closed his eyes, running a hand through his face in frustration. Edna wasn’t supposed to learn about his doomed fate, at least not until he no longer posed a threat to her—until he was six feet under. Eizen stayed away to protect her, and Edna definitely wasn’t supposed to stay after his return as a dragon just to protect him. Just thinking about it, imagining her by his side much like Zaveid had with Theodora, filled Eizen with both shame and dread.
Eizen turned on his side, watching the crackling of a well-maintained fire lit on the stone chimney. There was an idea lurking in Eizen’s mind ever since he set foot in Ladylake, just because he had agreed to go to Ladylake with them, but he never agreed to stay. Once the group fell asleep, the silence of the night would offer Eizen the chance to leave, to slip into the shadows and disappear without anyone noticing his absence. By the time morning came, Eizen would be far away enough from Ladylake not to be followed easily.
Edna would be angry once she discovered what Eizen had done, but doing this would keep her safe, would keep her alive, and that was the only thing that mattered to Eizen. No matter how many times Edna had made her desire to be with him regardless of the danger more than apparent, that wasn’t a wish that Eizen could grant her in good conscience. And, as much as he was used to them as a long-lived malak, he was never that good with farewells either.
After all his failures, physically removing himself from Edna as soon as possible was the least that he could do.
Eizen didn’t miss how, even though she said nothing, Edna’s knuckles around the handle of her umbrella went white after Eizen turned Sorey down. Eizen knew that taking the risk of turning into a dragon again was a selfish choice, but that was just how he was. He hoped Edna would one day understand his choice, or at least tolerate it. The centuries before Edna was born blended together, monotonous and repetitive, in Eizen’s mind. Eizen wondered if, for Edna, the centuries after he left her were the same. How many years would Edna refuse to dignify his letters with an answer this time, just to make her disapproval known?
The bed creaked behind Eizen just as something grabbed his waist. Eizen felt the air leaving his lungs, the realization that this room had no windows sinking onto him. The door remained shut tight, but he was invisible to most humans.
He wasn’t invisible to daemons, though.
Eizen twisted his body around in a flash, cursing himself for getting distracted and letting his guard down, but what he found behind him was neither human nor daemon, nor was it attacking him.
“Edna?”
Edna was sleeping inside Sorey in the other room. Or, at least, she was supposed to be. Instead of that, she had left her vessel to materialize herself right on her brother’s bed.
The fire brightened Edna’s silhouette, accentuating the colors of her dress, though her face remained hidden against Eizen’s body. Had she realized that Eizen intended to leave? That was how it always worked between them: they knew each other too well, for better and for worse.
Despite the anger that was surely simmering beneath the surface at Eizen’s actions, at least Edna’s breathing was calm. Breathing. Eizen blinked. Edna had picked up human habits, much like he had. Surprising, considering how much she hated them, but she had been living among them for long enough that it made sense.
Eizen called out her name again, but Edna didn’t answer him. It finally dawned on Eizen that Edna wasn’t actually awake.
Good grief… Eizen had guessed that Edna had grown out of her sleepwalking habits during his absence, but it turned out that his guess was wrong.
Eizen considered gently waking her up and sending her back with Sorey, but he didn’t fail to notice that, if he did that, then this moment would become the very first time that they were alone and face to face in ages. Eizen wasn’t prepared for the conversation that he knew he owed her.
“Wait, I thought Edna said that Eizen and she lived together?”
Eizen didn’t blame Edna for obfuscating the truth behind his endless travels, or for hiding that his presence did nothing but hurt her. For omitting that they had spent longer apart than they ever lived together, or that Eizen only visited her once after he left her.
Consciously, at least. Eizen knew that he would not forget anytime soon waking up very confused on the peak of Rayfalke and the quick, horrified realization that followed: he had returned home after turning into a dragon. The home Edna still lived in.
“We used to, but not anymore. Edna and I live apart for... various reasons.” Zaveid had thrown him a look at that.
The curse wasn’t the only reason for Eizen to stay away, but if Edna actually knew of his other reasons, then she never gave any indication of it. Eizen just hoped that she didn’t, that he could keep a secret from her for once.
Eizen reached out to fix the usual loose strap of Edna’s dress. The gesture, painfully familiar, stirred something deep inside his chest that he refused to acknowledge. He couldn’t afford sentimentality, not when he still needed to leave.
He tried to ignore the quickened pulse that was giving him away, betraying him in ways he would never admit aloud, and tried to move away. Edna’s grip didn’t loosen.
Having no vessel to return to, Eizen couldn’t pull the trick that Edna had to enter his room to slip away. Eizen considered removing Edna, but he risked accidentally hurting her in his attempt to separate them. That, and waking her up. If Edna was tired enough to sleep through the night, at least Eizen could use the excuse that they needed to reunite with the others when morning came to avoid further conversation.
Eizen turned back to the fire lit on the chimney. He really, really wanted to leave that conversation for the format limitations of letters. He could even pretend that it got lost, instead. Not that Edna waking up by his side wouldn’t also be awkward in itself, all things considered.
With a sigh, Eizen resigned himself to his fate for the time being, aware that his domain was large enough that a wall between Edna and him or not ultimately made no difference. His new plan to leave her would have to wait until the morning.
Granted, Edna had spent the past centuries by his side, hadn’t she? He just wasn’t conscious to tell. A night more or a night less made little difference.
Eizen tried to ignore the feeling of Edna’s arms wrapped around him. When was the last time that they slept together in the same bed? If he ever expected to get some sleep tonight, that plan was now foiled as well.
Good thing that malakhim don’t actually need to sleep, Eizen figured, now that actual rest was out of the question. This night was going to be really, really long.