Chapter 672: Have You Ever Been

Chapter 672: Have You Ever Been

Anneliese watched the rise and fall of Argrave’s chest to remind herself that he still breathed. She could see a stunning lack of presence with her [Truesight]—and elsewhere in the obsidian chamber, saw Argrave’s golden soul brimming with vitality far removed from where it should be. She couldn’t fully describe the implement that Raven had used, but she was near certain that he had once used the same thing to clash together Garm’s and Durran’s souls.

“What will he actually be experiencing?” Lorena questioned as she stared down at the motionless body of Argrave.

A new face appeared on the side of Raven’s body, and it asked her, “You don’t know?”

“I didn’t know if it would work, even if my theories were sound,” the dragon said honestly, and Anneliese looked up at her in surprise. “My whole life, I’ve acted with confidence even when I haven’t had it. I suppose the two are indistinguishable from one another.”

“I’ve anchored his soul to his body, but displaced it.” Raven pointed elsewhere in the room—particularly, where Argrave’s soul lingered. “His objective is merely to find his way home to repossess his body. After, we’ll move onto more advanced doings—heading to a separate location, and then returning to his body. As for ‘what,’ well...” Raven paused, searching for words—something that was very infrequent for him. “There is nothing in this world like experiencing life through soul alone. The possibilities feel limitless, yet are nonetheless tightly constrained by the world itself.”

Lorena raised a brow. “You make it sound almost... fun.”

“As fun as any drug. It’s a thrill-seeker’s paradise.” Raven shook his head. “I cannot recommend it because of that.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Still, how long do you think it’ll take for Argrave?” Lorena pressed.

“Getting impatient?” He asked her.

“No.” Lorena shook her head distantly. “Gerechtigkeit’s not the only one who’s used to waiting for a single chance—a single opportunity, presenting itself after millennia of nothing.” Her bright eyes flared brilliantly, and Anneliese studied her face intensely. Lorena quickly added, “After all, my people mate very infrequently, and live very long lives.”

Lorena and Anneliese’s eyes met, only for the young queen’s gaze to break away and look back to Argrave uncertainly. She cast continued glances in the direction of the dragon, feeling some vague nugget of hope yet not daring to voice it lest it be a ruse. Her words about opportunity... could they mean Lorena need no convincing to betray? Or could she working for the Heralds even still, attempting to lure them out by implying her resolve was weak? Whatever the case, Anneliese could not confide the plan.

“On the matter of your people, how do you watch us?” Raven inquired of Lorena as they all waited for Argrave.

“The moon is our conduit,” Lorena explained. “We tap into it to scry. The pact that I’ve formed with it allows as much. It becomes, metaphorically speaking, a gigantic eye that we use to peer upon this planet. It doesn’t see as we understand, but it does ‘see.’ I know that doesn’t make much sense. It takes a long while to learn how to use its sight, but once you do...” She looked up at Raven. “We can know everything, everywhere.”

Raven looked back at her. “I dislike that.”

Lorena laughed heartily. “Why? You mislike having some secret research of yours out in the public?”

“If you’ve seen all, you know my personal failings.” Raven clenched his fist. “Argrave and his coterie being vaguely privy was already far too many for my liking. But now, a whole people know.”

“Of course we know—and we sympathize, Raven. You were a child playing with something you don’t understand,” she said, then shook her head. “You can’t be blamed for what damage you did.”

“How could you even guess what I did and didn’t understand?” Raven asked, a touch of anger in his icy voice.

“Because my kind had been dealing with your problem for generations before I was even born. You call subsuming the flesh of another ‘potentiation.’ We have a similar word for it in our tongue. Much of our childhood is spent learning and adapting to it. You lost yourself to it because you had no one to teach you.” Lorena touched his arm. “Despite that, you did as best you could. You overcame it. With some help, granted, but you did.”

Anneliese’s gaze jumped between Raven and Lorena. She could see the disbelief etched in the typically-unreadable Raven as he asked, “Your people are like me?”

“We’re not even a tenth as moody.” She pinched his arm, and he pulled it away in surprise. “But in the most important ways, sure.”

Before Raven could press further, Argrave sat up, inhaling deeply. He clutched his head and felt his body frantically, then laid back down.

“And I’m responsible for the near-extinction of my people, and their present miserable state.” She poked her head back into his vision, reptilian eyes gleaming like stars. “I suppose you were absent when I told those two about it. Well... forget it. I’m not retelling the tale. Suffice to say, I speak from personal experience when I say that making a monster of yourself in the eyes of all who look doesn’t help you repent. More importantly, it doesn’t do anything for the people who you hope to impart a lesson upon.”

Raven’s lip curled as he said, “Are you suggesting I become more like you—carefree, relaxed, obnoxious?”

Lorena only laughed at what was his obvious deprecation of her character. “No, never that. It’s far more spiriting, though, to be a symbol of hope in the wake of failure, or to be a promise of redemption in the face of disgrace.”

Raven shook his head decisively. “I cannot be that which I am not.”

Lorena clicked her tongue. “For someone whose form is so dynamic, you strangely believe that personalities are static. People can change—even you.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. “Whatever. You’ll understand when you’re older,” she teased.

Raven looked disgruntled, unable to deny for the first time in a long time that someone was far older than he was. It was hard to accept, frankly, because he found her somewhat immature, constantly flicking and pinching people as she did. He detested being pinched. It was hard to stay dignified, doubly so when her fingers had the strength of a vice.

“So—when do you think he’ll be ready for more than practice?” She focused back on Argrave.

“He’s too valuable to risk without full preparation.” Raven leaned over Argrave, glad to speak of business again. “Before I consent to allowing him to journey to the stars, he has to beat me.”

“Beat you how?” Lorena asked curiously.

“In a clash of souls.” Raven straightened his back. “Gerechtigkeit will throw souls of all stripes up against Argrave. I have little doubt he will personally commandeer them. I consider my soul among the strongest in the world. If he can overcome me, he can overcome any pathetic lich’s soul.”

“That could seriously hurt either of you,” Lorena noted.

“I won’t fight—only defend. The risk will be to me alone.” He looked at her. “It’s rather like a grown adult teaching a child how to fight. Even if they do land a punch, it won’t truly injure me.”

“This child seems like to hide a knife and stab you when you least suspect,” she mused as she looked upon Argrave. “Oh, but you’ll be fine, I’m sure. Surely.”

#####

The days of practice were incredibly intense for Argrave. Whenever Raven lowered his soul-rending implement to Argrave’s chest, there was a terrifying boundary that greeted him that could easily be likened to the feeling of death. Argrave had never died so far as he knew, but he was so certain that it was death that he could make no other comparisons. It was like teetering on the edge of the event horizon, where that all-consuming black hole threatened to swallow his universe. Every time, it felt he barely dodged it.

But after bypassing death, Argrave entered life of another kind—existence as a soul. He hadn’t known it, but he had already gained some experience in the field in the past—specifically, he’d gained it in the Shadowlands, when he’d fought back the hounds of hunger that the Hopeful sent forth to devour his memories. He had been fighting, then, with his very soul.

To exist in the soul was to dream. Argrave didn’t know what implications that had for dreams themselves, but to exist as a soul could be compared to a never-ending struggle against the perception of the fact that one was dreaming. Lucidity, clarity, self-awareness—these were the weapons that Argrave had to brandish against the pull of ignorance, oddity, and comfort. So long as he knew what he was doing, he was winning—but if the distractions the dream threw at him proved too much, that black hole of death might suck him away.

No psychedelics could compare to the pure oddity of being a soul. His own imagination conspired to lull him into the long sleep, while fighting against it was his ego. At first, focusing on objectives had been incredibly difficult. As was his nature, though, he found a solution—gamifying everything. It gave him tangible things to work with, but was a double-edged sword. If he found himself too immersed in the game, he might lose it all.

Argrave couldn’t quite say that he was able to float about in the mortal world as a little quaint golden sprite, but so long as he knew what needed to be done before he left his body, he could get it done. It felt like he lived eighty lifetimes in eight hours. It was intoxicating, almost addicting, but intensely terrifying at the same time. The fear was part of the appeal—the genuine risk to the fantastic oddities made them all the more tantalizing to experience.

He wouldn’t say so aloud lest he sound insane, but he immensely enjoyed every practice session. Until, that is, they came to the last exercise.

The fight against Raven.