Edge Cases - 152 - Book 3: Chapter 17: Remembrance

The sky above Mundane was a sight to remember.

It wasn’t just the fireworks, the streaks of magic that flew up into the air and shaped themselves into beautiful works of art. It wasn’t the stray sparks from the many duels happening all over the town, with elements crashing across the sky. It wasn’t even the gentle play of light across the clouds, though that sight was beautiful in and of itself.

It was the fact that those panes of reflective air were falling.

Sev was startled, at first, almost worried — but Aneryn had merely laughed. “It’s just skyfall,” he said. “You haven’t been around that long, have you?”

“Not as such,” Sev said.

The view was dizzying, with the view in each pane shifting and spinning as it fell. Every time one hit the ground it shattered like it was made of glass, though it did no damage to anything it struck. Sev eventually had to look away, feeling slightly sick, but Aneryn himself seemed enchanted by the sight.

Sev could imagine why. Follow closely enough and the phenomenon allowed you to see everything that was happening in the town of Mundane — some of the panes even showed flashes of those duels and battles in the town happening close-up. Others showed the various sights and displays that had been constructed, from a small table display where dozens of toys had been enchanted to sing and dance to a massive enchanted painting that seemed to double as a hedge maze. People would step into the painting, and the enchanter would paint the maze in as they attempted to navigate it, rapid strokes creating a dead end or a beautiful grove each time they turned a corner.

It was fascinating, and Sev resolved to find that second display later to try it for himself, but he couldn’t keep watching. The sight was making him very distinctly motion sick, and he hadn’t had a feeling like that for years.

“Having trouble?” Aneryn’s voice was a low rumble of distinct amusement, and Sev grumbled. “Newbies tend to have trouble. Haven’t had newbies for a while, though. Aren’t you a healer?”

…He was. He just hadn’t felt like this for a while, and it hadn’t occurred to him that he could just… heal it away.

Magic was convenient. He wondered how he would’ve dealt with this, once upon a time.

A gentle glow of divine magic later, and he went back to watching what Aneryn had called the skyfall.

“Sky will be clear once this is all said and done,” Aneryn said. “Wish I could be around to see it. They usually last for a day or two, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Sev said, because there didn’t seem to be anything better to say. He hadn’t trained in this.

Aneryn snorted. “Ain’t your fault,” he said. “Lets me see more of the festival. Pretty well-timed, if anything.”

“I suppose,” Sev said. “You’ve been to one of these before?”

“A long time ago.” Aneryn cleared his throat, and Sev glanced over at him — he noticed the way the elemental’s hands appeared to be fading, sinking into the shadow of the tree they were sitting under, and he felt his heart sink a little with it. “Suppose that might be a good place to start, even, if you want to know what I was all about.”

“What were you all about?”

“Magic,” Aneryn said, but he injected the word with a certain amount of flair and pomp; he even tried to gesticulate, though his arms just sort of failed him. He glared at his limb like it was offending him, but didn’t try again. “Destruction magic in particular. Not for the sake of killin’ or the like, but understanding it was my passion. Still is, really.”

“I’d bring my friend here if I could,” Sev said wryly. “He’s better at talking about this kind of stuff than I am. I don’t think I really get magic, even after all this time.”

“Nothing much to get, really,” Aneryn shrugged. “Magic’s a whole load of concepts wrapped together, and glyphs tap into that conceptual sphere. Skilled mages know how to navigate it, and lesser ones just pluck out surface concepts.”

“Huh.” Sev paused. “That’s a lot simpler than I imagined.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s the base of it.” Aneryn shifted, then grunted uncomfortably. “Mind helping me sit up a bit?”

Sev reached over to help prop him up, not commenting on the fact that Aneryn looked a little frailer than he had a moment ago; his body blended in more with the shadows they sat in. He wondered if it was a good idea to create a source of light, so the harsher shadows would help him stay together…

…Probably not. If it were that simple to fix, Aneryn would have done it long ago.

“Loved duels,” Aneryn said. The words came out like they were a sigh. “Haven’t had a good duel in a damn long time. Pretty much everyone refused after what happened to me.”

Sev almost asked him what happened, but stopped himself. “What makes you like them?”

“S’like a dance.” Aneryn’s eyes brightened a little, even in the state he was in. “A story you tell, but in the form of a fight. A swordfight is fun, but limited; there are only so many physical possibilities. But with magic…”

The shadow elemental lifted up a palm, though not without difficulty; a faint image of a glyph floated above it, spinning gently. “This is the glyph for Entropy,” Aneryn said. “I know of at least five hundred combinations with other glyphs. For every one of them, the way you cast matters. Intent, interpretation, state of mind. In a duel you learn not just new magics, but how your opponent thinks — how they feel — the way they look at the world.”

“It’s how you communicate,” Sev said.

“Yes,” Aneryn said emphatically. He let his hand flop back against the ground and the image of the glyph fade from existence, then looked up towards the sky, sighing. “Talking doesn’t come as easily to me as fighting.”

“I don’t think talking comes easily to anyone,” Sev said with a chuckle. “Some people are better at it than others, but… it’s communication, right? You can be good at entertaining a crowd, you can be good at making people laugh or smile, but that doesn’t mean you’re good at communicating.”

“Too many nuances.” Aneryn grunted in agreement. “Can’t know what someone’s experiences are. Can’t know who they know, how they use words, if the slang they use means somethin’ else.”

“But you bypass that when you see people cast.”

“Glad you get it.” Aneryn sighed. “Came back to bite me, though. One of the spells I developed did me in like this. Didn’t consider the backlash.”

“Are your spells usually so…” Sev gestured, searching for the word. “Lethal?”

“It’s reversible, usually,” Aneryn said. “But Entropy’s a beast of a glyph. Ain’t so easy to reverse. Was trying to fix the problem.”

“Ah.” Sev didn’t know what to say, but Aneryn seemed happy to continue; he just wanted someone to talk to.

“Honestly would’ve preferred going out in a duel,” Aneryn said. “But… Didn’t want to put anyone through that. Friends’re good people. They don’t need this on their conscience.”

“I’d offer,” Sev said. “But I don’t think I can fight on the level you’re looking for.”

“You’d die,” Aneryn snorted. He didn’t even question the possibility — Sev was almost offended.

“You don’t know that. I’m a damn good healer.”

“You’d lose, anyway,” Aneryn said, this time with a slight grin and a bite of fire in his voice. Sev grinned back, drawn in by the charisma.

“…I can see how you got people to duel with you,” he said. Aneryn smirked.

“Too weak to duel properly now, anyway,” he said. “Nice enough to have someone around. Didn’t… wanna die alone. But didn’t wanna make my friends watch. Which is a problem, ’cause I think I’m starting to consider you a friend.”

Sev chuckled, letting the friend comment pass him by. He liked Aneryn, and what was coming weighed on him; he was doing his best to take his mind off it, and simply provide companionship. “You don’t think they might have wanted to?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Aneryn said. “S’too late now. Made my choice.”

“I could get them.”

“Don’t want them to see me like this,” Aneryn said. “Bit selfish, I know. Want them to remember me as a lean, mean, fightin’ machine. And… Might be gone by the time you get back.”

Sev hummed. “Well,” he said. “I’ll try to remember you as a fighting machine.”

“Could get a painter to paint a portrait of me.” Aneryn grinned. “Make it all badass. Have me stopping time or some shit. That’s what the spell was supposed to do.”

“I might just do that,” Sev said, smiling a faint smile. “I’ve got a mage friend that’s pretty good with that kind of thing. Even if he keeps making himself look a lot more badass than he is. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

Aneryn laughed. “He one of those that try to look tough and mostly come off cute?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that,” Sev joked, and Aneryn snickered again.

“Got one of those as well,” he said. “She’s… like a daughter to me. I regret her not being here the most, I guess. I’m gonna miss her.”

“Do you want me to pass on a message?” Sev asked. “I can try to find her…”

“Nah,” Aneryn shook his head. “Ain’t gonna be that easy to find her, and I left her a message of my own. Though if you do get that painting commissioned, you should send her a copy. The look on her face…”

The small amount of mirth in Aneryn’s voice suddenly fell away, leaving behind an awkward silence. Sev didn’t say anything, but he felt the air turn heavy, and glanced towards Aneryn.

The shadow elemental’s eyes were clouded with their version of tears. Sev cast his gaze away as a quiet sob suddenly wracked the elemental’s frame, the burst of emotion sudden but powerful. He didn’t need Aneryn to speak to know the thought that was going through his mind — that he’d never get to see the look on her face when she saw that painting. That he’d never see their smiles again, hear their laughs again; that he wouldn’t be around to see how they grew and changed.

It was almost strange how sure he was about Aneryn’s exact frame of mind. A flicker of familiarity ran through him, like Aneryn was someone he knew. Should have known?

What—

Sev was pulled from his thoughts, rather abruptly, by a vehement curse.

“Shit.”

Aneryn nearly snarled out the word, and a patch of grass by the elemental’s wrist caught aflame. It was a vehement, sudden turn in emotion, and Sev winced just slightly, though he didn’t say anything. “Forget you saw that.”

“It’s forgotten,” Sev said quietly.

A partial lie. He couldn’t get the sudden familiarity out of his mind, but that familiarity did help him forget; he saw, in his mind’s eye, a perfect image of someone that looked very much like Aneryn, fighting off a creature that looked not unlike the Mana Abomination they’d fought at the very beginning of this journey, when the dungeon had formed wrong.

Before he could say anything about it, Aneryn started talking.

He didn’t speak with any purpose in particular. Sev sensed that there was a part of the elemental that regretted not having his friends around, or that simply wanted his friends around, despite his desire for them to remember him as he was. He just talked about who he was and what he’d done.

In the span of an hour, Sev learned that Aneryn loved spider-meat spiced with fireseed, a combination that made every one of his other friends turn green whenever he ate it; he had a fascination for pottery, though he was terrible at it himself, and had broken nearly every pot he’d ever made, except for a particularly deformed one he kept on a pedestal in his home; he loved his friends and took them out often to ‘adventure’, exploring newly opened regions as the mana restored them.

He learned that Aneryn hated fish — was terrified of them, really. They were wet, slimy, and disgusting creatures that wiggled around far too much, and they were no better in food. He learned that when he wasn’t fighting, Aneryn was clumsy, and needed his friends to stop him from tripping over his own two feet.

He learned all the ins and outs of Aneryn as a person.

Sev contributed his own stories, of course, whenever the elemental wanted to hear them — and he did want to hear them from time to time. He talked about how he was scared of heights, at which point Aneryn had laughed and told him about the mana-region that was just clouds and nothing else, an infinite expanse of sky. He shared his love for tea, which he hadn’t even thought about for months — tea was relatively rare, and while he kept a few magically preserved satchels of his favorites, he didn’t let himself enjoy them all that often.

Aneryn had laughed at him for liking leaf water. Sev had responded by brewing a cup right then and there, asking only for his help with fire magic and small conjurations to hold the liquid, which the elemental had gladly provided.

And then they’d had tea, and Aneryn had grudgingly admitted that it was good.

Even if he’d needed a small mountain of sugar poured into his tea.

Yet that entire time, the context of what was soon to happen hung over them — and eventually, Aneryn drifted into silence, out of conversation and out of energy.

“…Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. Tired. Sev knew without looking that the elemental’s time was soon, and a part of him cried out for him to save him — to use his magic and heal him, to fix this.

Sev could have said so many things. He could have asked Aneryn if he wanted that heal, even at the cost to himself. He could have asked Aneryn if it was okay if he didn’t heal him, because he — this version of him, his mind, his ideas, his values — would die in the process.

But he knew what Aneryn would say. He would refuse, and his last moments would be used to reassure someone else.

Sev swallowed back those words, and said the words that hurt to say. “It was nice meeting you.”

Aneryn smiled. He was nearly entirely faded, now, but the smile was genuine.

“If I’d met you sooner,” he said. “I think we could’ve been great friends.”