Vigor Mortis - Chapter 183: Absolution

“Are you sure you weirdos don’t want to just let me do the talking?” Cassia asks.

I hold back a scowl, supremely uninterested in having this conversation permanently ingrained in my memory for the third time in a row. Surprise surprise, Princess and the High Templar aren’t exactly getting along. Although for once, I think this is more the fault of Cassia’s belligerence than Vita’s. I guess because Vita hasn’t been the one talking ever since we left the town.

“I’m sure,” Malrosa insists. “The problem, Cassia, is that anyone you speak to is just going to assume you’re an animancy victim.”

“I mean, that’s true, isn’t it?”

“Well… yes, but you’re not a victim of us, and that’s what they’re going to think. Obviously you should speak to some degree, don’t act like a subordinate.”

“You couldn’t make me, bug girl.”

Oh, here we go. I hunch down and grab my ears with two of my hands, smooshing them down to try and drown things out. It doesn’t work, of course, but maybe one of them will actually notice how uncomfortable I am and stop arguing with each other.

“Yes I could?” Malrosa insists with a touch of confusion. “I’m an extremely powerful animancer with explicit training in making subordinate souls.”

Watcher below, why would you say that? This is the Princess that’s supposedly good at negotiating!

“…But we aren’t going to do that, so act naturally but let me do most of the talking until we get your status cleared,” Malrosa finishes, sounding chagrined. “I’m sorry, um… Lark. What am I doing wrong, exactly?”

“What?” I ask, looking up and letting my ears flick upright the way they want to be. I’m way too anxious to have my ears down.

“Well, um, I could tell that you were a little frustrated with how I’m speaking, and… I don’t understand. I feel like I’ve been explaining things calmly and clearly?”

I stare at her, trying to get my muddled thoughts together. The three of us flew most of the way to Skyhope, but we’ve since touched down on the forest floor to walk the rest of the way, as I pointed out that it would likely make us seem less aggressive to approach a bit more leisurely. And to my surprise, Cassia and Malrosa actually agreed.

Now I’m getting asked about more things. Which is… weird. I don’t normally offer my opinion on stuff like this, let alone get asked for it. Maybe it’s just extra noticeable to Princess that I have something to say because of her stupid soul-reading thing. But having something to say and wanting to say it are two different things. Honestly, I just don’t want to get involved, but she did ask, so…

“…If someone says ‘you can’t make me,’ your response should never be ‘actually, yes, I can violate your agency at will.'”

“I mean, that’s not exactly how I phrased it,” Malrosa seems to pout. “And besides, it’s true!”

“Yeah well it’s true that my body is so insistent on your status as food that my mouth starts generating saliva just for standing next to you, but it’s not exactly polite to bring attention to it!” I snap back at her. “Like, how do you not notice that humans get uncomfortable about that kind of thing? You’re literally an empath!”

Malrosa glances away, rubbing her hands together nervously.

“I just… I mean, I’m not usually paying attention, I suppose. Isn’t basically everyone aware that I’m an animancer anyway?”

I almost snap something rude at her again, but I stop myself. Something about this is… off. Familiar. Oh, wait a minute. That’s right. She’s… not human. She doesn’t get this stuff.

She’s like me. Or at least she’s like how I used to be.

“…Humans can be pretty strange,” I tell her, picking my words carefully. “No offense, Cassia. It’s just… the context in which you bring attention to something changes how that thing is interpreted, I guess? And in most situations, reminding people that you’re capable of subverting their souls at will kind of sounds like a threat.”

“…Oh,” Malrosa mutters. “That’s rather odd.”

“Humans are not exactly bastions of logic, Malrosa, but neither are you and I. All three of us have problematic instincts to struggle with. But you can get an inside look on everyone else’s to help work around them, and the fact that you apparently just aren’t bothering to most of the time is kind of annoying, if I’m being honest. I had to learn this stuff the hard way.”

A wide-eyed look of terror stares back at me from the two victims I’ve webbed to the bed. The people I’m about to eat. Something about their fear makes me pause, makes me wonder for a moment if I’m really doing the right thing… but the memory of Sharif’s complaints, the way they hold him back from spending more time with me, remind me of why I’m doing this. For my friend’s sake, I will eat his—

“Lark!” Malrosa barks, startling me out of the memory. “You okay?”

Inhale, exhale. Look forward, focus on the now.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” she nods. “Thank you for explaining. I’ll… try to pay more attention to that, I guess.”

“Okay.”

There are, thankfully, no more arguments as we finally approach the edge of the forest, though Cassia has that thoughtful look humans get when they’re interested in a conversation about something in particular but have absolutely no idea how to breach the subject. Normally I’d prompt her, but I’m not sure I can handle it right now. I’m too stressed, too frustrated. It’s been getting worse lately, partially because I haven’t been eating as much as I should and partially—at least according to Lady Vesuvius’ theory—because of puberty. I very much hate the idea that my body is going through even more changes which give me more problematic mental compulsions to worry about, but I guess being irritable all the time is incredibly tame compared to what I’m normally repressing so it’s not as huge of a deal as it could be. Of course, privately I’m a bit suspicious about my irritability being the result of chemical changes in my brain or whatever. I feel like it’s just as easily explained by my continuous proximity to Princess.

Stepping out past the perimeter of trees has us quickly spotted and approached by guards. Props to Skyhope for installing more of them in our town’s direction, I suppose. Of course, several enslaved farm workers are much closer to us than the people employed to protect them, so they all take the rather reasonable action of immediately dropping what they’re doing and sprinting away. My legs twitch only the slightest bit, my instinct to chase them only briefly attacking my mind before I smash it back down.

“Vrothizo!!!” one of the workers screams, which I find kind of rude. Immediately after, I’m startled by the realization that I find that kind of rude. Sure, I’m dressed and not attacking anybody and obviously civilized and walking around with a Watcher-darn High Templar standing next to me, but running from a vrothizo is still a pretty reasonable response. I’ve just… gotten really used to people being able to see past what I look like, I guess. It’s uncomfortable to once again in a place where that doesn’t happen. Looking back, it’s kind of awful to realize I’d been living with that discomfort like it was normal.

I have done terrible things. Unforgivable things. But I’ve done good things, too. I’ve helped people. I keep a whole town of people safe, and I’ve never hurt anyone there. So why wouldn’t they like me? It’s okay for them to like me.

I’m… allowed to be liked.

It sounds stupid in my head. It’s something I’ve heard from my friends before, especially Xena and Jelisa. Of course I’m allowed to be liked, nothing that could or would restrict such privileges even exists. It should be self-evident. And yet, for the first time since hearing the words, I think I might actually agree with them. Realizing that… it kind of aches. It aches, and it makes me want to grin like an idiot.

I don’t grin, though, because I’m not an idiot and there’s no good reason to show my teeth to a bunch of people that are already afraid of me.

“Halt! Halt, all of you!”

A pair of pike-wielding guards have finally approached us, weapons pointed our way in a defensive posture. I have to admit, the authoritative tone of the man barking at us shows impressive courage. Courage that is entirely unwarranted, since he barely smells worth a meal. …Not that I’m going to eat him or anything.

“What unit are you clowns in?” Cassia snorts, crossing her arms to indicate that she’s even less impressed than I am.

“I said stay where you are! This is Valka territory, and—”

“Um, if I may?” Malrosa says, her voice cutting through theirs with what may very well be magical precision. “By any chance did you two serve during the last Hiverock night?”

The two men spare each other a passing glance.

“You did!” Malrosa exclaims despite their lack of answer, joyfully clapping her hands exactly once. “So then you probably saw my descent. And you saw multiple High Templars attempt—and fail—to accost me. One of whom you may recognize as the woman standing beside me.”

I can’t see it behind their armor, but with my ears pointed their way I can hear them both swallow nervously, the scent of their sweat growing delectable with fear.

“…My point is, gentlemen, perhaps you should consider moving this particular problem up the ladder, hmm? I do, after all, intend to walk into Skyhope today. Wouldn’t we all prefer if I did so peacefully?”

“Do you, um, realize that sounds like a threat, Malrosa?” I ask quietly.

“What?” she tilts her head. “Oh. No, that wasn’t my intention. I don’t really get the idea of verbal threats, if I’m being honest. I prefer the clarity of ultimatums.”

“That… also kind of sounds like a threat, honestly,” I mutter. “And you realize ultimatums are a kind of threat, right?”

She groans softly.

“Look, if the two of you could just take us to someone actually qualified to have a conversation with a foreign dignitary, I’d appreciate that. If not, I can just find someone without your help.”

“You are very bad at not threatening people,” I sigh.

“No, that one was actually on purpose.”

“You should just listen to her,” Cassia insists, backing Malrosa up. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can just point your sharp sticks at.”

“I, um… Cassia, ma’am, there’s… we’ve been instructed to assume you as hostile,” one of the guards stutters.

“…And you think that means you should be blocking my way instead of running like your ass is on fire?”

“Someone is piggybacking the animancy enchantment,” Malrosa announces. “Installed themselves as a voice of authority that the Ars plague recognizes. These two aren’t acting rationally about their orders because they can’t.”

“You still haven’t sold me on the existence of this plague,” Cassia grunts.

“Oh, right,” Malrosa says absentmindedly. “Hey, you two. I’m starting to think that Ars guy maybe wasn’t so bad. Animancy could do a lot of good in the world, don’t you think?”

“Um, I mean, I suppose there’s a lot of potential for societal benefit,” one of the guards agrees hesitantly. Malrosa just gestures at him and stares expectantly in Cassia’s direction.

“…Yeah, okay, they’re infected,” she agrees. “Let’s try not to hurt them too much?”

“Eh, I doubt they’re dumb enough to attack us,” Malrosa shrugs. “They’re irrational, not suicidal. Let’s just keep heading towards the gates.”

Sure enough, the Princess and High Templar step forward and the guards decide that this is a problem above their pay grade. They step back as the three of us walk calmly forwards, though I do make the effort to whisper an apology at them as we pass. They don’t really seem to appreciate it, but I didn’t want to be rude.

“Ooh, Braum’s not infected, that’s good news!” Malrosa announces as we get closer. “Hi Braum!”

There’s a pause.

“…Huh, I guess he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Malrosa pouts.

“Who would?” Cassia drawls. “But you said the plague infects people upon skin-to-skin contact, right? It makes sense that the big dork wouldn’t be affected.”

“Not very touchy, huh?” Malrosa muses. “I can relate. Though I guess I’m a lot better on that front than I used to be.”

“Same,” I add quietly. “On both accounts.”

“Really?” Malrosa asks. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Physical contact with people makes me think about eating people,” I admit. “I used to be afraid that I’d attack someone for getting that close. But Jelisa and my friends have helped me a lot with getting more comfortable, I guess.”

“Hugs with people you trust are really nice,” Malrosa nods sagely.

“…Yeah,” I agree. “They are.”

The looming wall of Skyhope in front of us is exactly as I remember it, at least. The terrifyingly rapid general decay of Baldone that happened once they stopped doing general maintenance to better focus on Ars doesn’t seem to be happening here. Patrols on our side of the wall are more numerous—and growing in response to our approach—but I’m not seeing evidence that things have fallen apart. If there is someone pulling the strings with Ars’ plague, they’re at least a better administrator than he was.

“Hmm. About two thirds of the city is infected. Less than I would have expected,” Malrosa says. “On the upside, it seems we’re going to meet the person in charge soon.”

Oh? I sniff for power, and sure enough there’s someone on Cassia’s level walking towards us, maybe a bit above her. A High Templar I don’t recognize? That’s kind of odd, but my guess turns out to be spot-on: someone in a High Templar uniform exits the gates closest to us and waits by the guards, arms crossed impatiently.

“Friend of yours?” Malrosa asks as we approach them.

“Emphatically no,” Cassia grunts.

“She’s a splice,” Malrosa comments.

“I’m aware,” Cassia agrees.

“Well, everyone stay close to me. Looks like we’re getting the usual greeting.”

“What’s the usual greeting?” I ask, and then Princess’ mana blooms all around us, just in time to prevent a series of sickly purple cracks in the air from ripping us apart.

“What the fuck do you think the usual greeting is, Lark?” she answers flatly.

A horrible screeching sound rips through our ears and then everything seems to explode all at once, the cracks in reality all breaking in horrible ways that give me a headache to look at—or even think about, as my perfect memory seems to indicate. Then, with a whip-like crack, the rumble of a shockwave, and a flash of light, everything is back to normal. The shimmering blue bubble around us barely seems affected.

“You must be Interitus, then,” Vita drawls.

“I am High Templar Interitus the Fractured,” the woman corrects.

“Sure. Cool.” Vita steps forwards, her wings spreading out behind Cassia and I as subtle encouragement to keep pace with her. “Any particular reason you’ve attacked me on sight?”

“It seems appropriate to discipline a child that betrayed her father.”

“My father is busy tutoring children on literacy, and as far as I’m aware he’s quite proud of me,” Vita scoffs. “So if you’re talking about Ars, let’s set the record straight: I didn’t betray him. I killed him. Permanently.”

And what a world it is that Vita has to clarify that particular point. Interitus flinches at the claim, but in lieu of responding she just causes another brain-melting explosion around us… which Vita continues to ignore.

“This doesn’t even feel strange to you, does it?” Vita asks her. “The loyalty. It’s like finding something you used to love in the trash and picking up again. It’s honestly kind of a shame that I’m not here to kill you.”

“Just fucking die, you blasphemous thing!” Interitus hisses, causing the world to erupt in purple once again. The ground around us is torn to shreds, the road obliterated in barely a second. Debris from the blast bounces harmlessly away from us.

“You must be used to being able to kill anything, with a talent like that,” Vita chuckles. “Chaos magic on your level would just rip through spell resistance in a blink, along with basically anything else. Shame you’re limited to line-of-sight when casting it. You can’t just light up the whole sky when we approach from the ground. You have to come to us. Your mistake.”

“Watcher below, we are terrible diplomats,” I grumble, feeling Vita’s tendrils lash out all around us and bury themselves into the High Templar ahead, along with everyone else around her. They cry out in shock, some people collapsing to their knees, others seeming to wet themselves if the smell is anything to go by, but barely ten seconds later it’s over. Interitus is one of the few people who remained standing, though she’s clutching her helmet like she has a splitting headache.

“…Fuck,” she hisses.

“Yep,” Vita agrees.

“How long have I… have we…?”

“I have no idea,” Vita shrugs. “But you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Like I said, Ars is dead-dead. Also, Braum, I know you’re watching. You wanna weigh in, here?”

One of Braum’s usual illusions pops into existence nearby at that, seeming to stare at us.

“…I’m a little busy right now,” Braum says. “Protecting the uncorrupted members of the inquisition we have remaining is becoming increasingly difficult.”

“Ah… I’ll call the people after you off,” Interitus says. “No, wait. My motivations are universally suspect. The Lich got me, I should be removed from command immediately.”

“Agreed on that front,” Braum nods.

“Oh for fuck’s—” Vita starts to swear, but I grab her shoulder and she shuts up.

“Diplomacy,” I remind her.

“…Right,” she mutters. “Right. Sorry, I’m… Malrosa’s in the back right now.”

“Can you get her out?” I ask.

“Maybe?” she hedges. “It doesn’t really work like that, but she’s… I don’t know. Give me a second.”

“Sure,” I agree, and turn to nod at Braum.

“High Templar,” I greet him, taking point so the attention can stay on me. “I’m really sorry about all this trouble. It sounds like you’re aware of the self-replicating animancy talent that’s been infecting people?”

“Lark. It’s good to see you,” he nods. “And yes, we did our best to quarantine it but it reached critical mass before we figured out how it spread. Hence the current crisis.”

“I know it’s likely difficult to believe, but we have a cure and the primary purpose of our visit is to distribute it. It is in no one’s best interest that Ars be revered, posthumously or otherwise.”

“I agree, but you have to understand that it’s impossible to trust any animancy applied by someone with countless reasons to hold a grudge,” Braum answers. “Even less so someone that has expressed an interest in conquering us.”

“I understand, sir,” I nod. “The Princess here is certainly… a lot of things, but she isn’t duplicitous. If you have a superior method of combating this problem, I wouldn’t mind leaving you to it, but you have the practice universally banned. Don’t you need help?”

“I’m sorry, but our lack of options doesn’t make her any more trustworthy,” Braum answers, shaking his head.

“I can help,” Cassia speaks up. “I can prove I’m not mind controlled.”

“Without an animancer to confirm—” Braum begins, but he stops talking when Cassia whips around and punches Vita square in the face.

“OW!” Vita yelps, staggering back a bit. “What the actual—”

“Fuck you, bug girl!” Cassia shouts, shooting up into the air and making rude gestures with both hands. “Go suck a chitinous dick!”

She then flies off, shooting over Skyhope’s walls like an arrow. Vita makes a bunch of furious noises that sound like swears in a foreign language and lifts off the ground to follow her, forcing me to grab her ankle and remind her, again, that we are here to do diplomacy.

“…That really shouldn’t have been a convincing argument,” Braum muses.

“But it is?” I ask hopefully.

“It’s… certainly very true to her character,” Braum answers fondly, his head turning to Princess as she grumpily touches back onto the ground. “Perhaps with… significant oversight, we can work out a method of cooperation that satisfies both parties?”

“I mean that’s how compromise is supposed to fucking work, yeah,” Vita grumbles. I elbow her in the breathing vents, eliciting a funny choked noise. “I-I mean, yes, High Templar. I’d be pleased to work with you.”

“Then follow me, and keep your tentacles to yourself for the time being.”

“…Alright.”

I allow myself a sigh. I’m not sure how, but we seem to have managed the first step. With Braum and Interitus both beside us, we enter the gates of Skyhope, countless familiar sights and smells assaulting my senses. Almost immediately, I feel my ears flatten against the top of my head, an instinct to hunch down and seem smaller warring with my growing instinct to burst forth and sink my teeth into someone as dozens of faces turn to stare at us. It’s sort of a no-brainer on which one I let win.

“Hey,” Vita—or maybe Malrosa—whispers at me. “Thanks for the assist. I have a tip for you, though: hold your head high. When people look at a ruler, they want to see a woman with pride.”

“I’m not a ruler,” I grumble. “I don’t ever want to be one.”

“A foreign dignitary, then,” Malrosa acquiesces. “I know we don’t have a name for our little town—which is kind of weird, honestly—but we’re basically a new nation. Look strong, because you represent us.”

I scowl slightly, forcing myself to stand up straight, ears and all. Don’t pay attention to the stares or the hushed voices. Don’t think about the delectable smells or the gnawing need in my belly. Eyes forwards, back straight, quills down, shoulders squared. I am in control. It’s okay for me to be here. I’m not the clueless little murderer that I used to be.

“So where are we being taken, exactly?” Malrosa inquires, turning her attention back to Braum. “Do I finally get to meet my good friends at Templar command?”

“…That’s the sort of conversation we should have a bit more privately,” Braum answers slowly.

The familiar quiet of a silence bubble springs into being around us.

“There you go,” Malrosa says. “Do continue, please.”

“The entirety of Templar command is compromised,” Braum says, not wasting any time. “Worse, we don’t know how long they’ve been compromised, and on top of that we have an information lockout regarding the second Ars crisis. If affected people become aware that they’re affected and able to spread that to others through contact, they start putting a lot more effort into doing so. And we can’t establish a proper quarantine because the people with the authority to do that are themselves affected. I’ve been working with what little is left of the Inquisition to protect those of us still free, but it has been slow going.”

“I only became aware of the… the problem recently,” Interitus adds. “But when I became aware, I had already been compromised, and as such I immediately joined the efforts to spread it, my status as a splice affording me abnormal levels of authority among the victims. As-is, I… do not know what to feel or think. My soul has very obviously been modified twice now, so I’m the very definition of mentally compromised.”

“Apologies for the rough treatment,” Malrosa nods at her. “Had you not been attacking me, I would have had time to find a better solution.”

“Yes,” Interitus gripes. “I understand, ‘Princess’ Vita.”

There’s a pause. I’m surprised when Malrosa doesn’t correct her on the name; am I wrong about who Princess currently is, or is she just letting it slide?

“…Actually,” Interitus continues, “while I have an easy excuse for the inquiry, I admit my curiosity: is it true that Altrix is with you? Alive and well?”

Malrosa seems surprised, but she nods.

“Yes, she’s part of our community.”

“I see,” Interitus mutters. “If you can, please tell her that I’m sorry.”

Malrosa stares at the other woman for a moment, the hexes of her eyes narrowing in focus.

“…I will pass along the message,” she eventually responds.

Interitus grunts an acknowledgement.

“Anyway, I’ll be taking you to coordinate with the remaining Inquisitors, Princess Vita,” Braum says, and I’m impressed when I don’t hear a twinge of sarcasm in the title. “If they clear your methods, I’ll trust their expertise. If none of them can clear you, I’ll acknowledge we have no other options and a relative risk is still better than an inevitable subsumption by Ars’ curse.”

“That seems reasonable enough to me,” Malrosa agrees, and she drops the silence spell, allowing me to hear something that I never thought I’d ever have to hear again.

Singing. And not just any singing.

“…Claretta,” I whisper, my eyes going wide. That’s her. That’s her voice. I’d known that she was alive, that she was in Skyhope, but I’d never gone outside the barracks enough to run into her. My first victim, my first mother, the woman who gave me my language and my knowledge and my face and my skin and my limbs and—

“Why do you plant all these flowers around me, Lark?”

I look up at the Claretta, my left ear twitching as I stop digging a hole with my lower arms. My upper pair of arms carefully cradles a pretty orange flower. The Claretta says that colors have names like ‘orange’ and ‘purple’ and I believe her because they are fun to say.

“I like flowers,” I tell her. “And I like you.”

She stares at me silently as I stare back, which is an activity I enjoy. Though her face and neck have a few odd colors that won’t go away until next time I eat her (those are bruises, I didn’t know they went away because of her healing spells) I still like it. Her hair isn’t as soft as it was when I first got her (I would drag her by it through dirt and mud. I didn’t care that it hurt her.) and her body keeps getting thinner and less tasty (She was starving. She was in constant pain.) I still like the Claretta just as much as before. The cracked lips on her face (oh Watcher she didn’t even have enough water. We lived by a lake!) quirk upwards, which is something she does that always makes me happy for some reason. She is good at making me happy. This is why I keep her alive. (I should have died. I wish she would have killed me.)

“I like you too, Lark,” she says, and a giggle bubbles up from my chest. (She lied, of course. But the lies kept her alive.)

I look back at the ground, the soil freshly wet with Claretta’s blood. I’m not sure, but I think the flowers might like it as much as—

“Hey,” Malrosa says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Someone you know?”

I jolt back to the present, my eyes wide with terror and disgust. My breathing is rapid, my body tense. Claretta is here. It’s Claretta. The beautiful one. She’s here. She’s close. I can’t speak. I can’t move.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay, you’re in the now,” Malrosa assures me. “You need a ration?”

I open my mouth to respond, but I have to snap it shut before any words come out, suddenly afraid of my own teeth. Everyone has stopped walking, Braum and Interitus and Princess are all staring at me, and that singing is still—

…It goes silent. Princess has put the bubble back up. I breathe a bit slower. Vita stares at me silently, her alien eyes not revealing a single emotion.

“Do you want to avoid her,” she asks, “or talk to her?”

Avoid. Avoid. Run away and never come back. She should never have to see me again. Never have to think about me. I love her so much. I… I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t.

“Okay,” Princess nods. “That’s up to you. But I’m pretty sure she already knows you’re here.”

I can’t. I shouldn’t. I want to go. I hate that I want to go. I hate myself.

“What’s the matter?” Braum asks.

“Well, um, you’re both like… privy to Lark’s whole situation, right?” Princess asks. “We’re walking near someone that she has a lot of history with. Like, uh, before she was a Templar.”

Braum and Interitus glance at each other.

“After the… altercation during her training days, there was a biomancer who made multiple requests to meet with Lark,” Interitus says. “I denied them, of course. I think her name started with a ‘C?'”

“Claretta,” I whisper. She wanted to see me. She wanted to see me! Why would she ever want to see me!?

“Yeah, I think she’s not doing super hot, I’m sorry about this,” Princess hedges and she’s right, I’m freaking out and ruining everything and making it all worse like I always do and—

“Lark, no!” Princess snaps. “Come on, it’s okay. No one’s mad at you, it’s fine. I think you might need to eat? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t want to feed a monster,” I whisper. The person who made us takes everything. Grows stronger. I hate her. I hate her so much. I hate her because she made me.

“You’re not a… oh. Oh, Lark, I promise Nawra doesn’t care. She’s… she’s got a million different sources of food intake, please don’t use her as an excuse to not take care of yourself, okay? Look, I’ve got some food for you here…”

I think that, when I look back at this memory, I’ll be able to tell how much time has passed, what exactly went down, how much of an embarrassment I made of myself… but in the moment, it all just feels like a blur. Everything in my body is more tense than it would be if I were fighting the most dangerous monster in the forest, my heart rate spiking and my muscles twitching. At some point, Vita manages to coax some anima-infused meat ration into my mouth, and the blooming ecstasy of her possibly-divine soul takes over my conscious and unconscious mind for a blissful moment. Things are a little easier after swallowing, if only just.

“You back with us, Lark?” Princess asks.

“Y-yes,” I say. “I think so. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Do you want to go talk to her?”

I swallow nothing, a nervous reflex I’ve picked up from humans. I want to see her and I don’t want to see her. I’m eager and I’m terrified. I deserve this pain, but she doesn’t. Yet… apparently she wants to see me. She’s singing because she knows I’m here. It’s not up to me to decide then, is it? If that’s what she wants…

“I’ll go talk to her,” I say.

“You sure?” Princess asks.

“Yes.”

She nods at me, then turns to the High Templars.

“Braum, could you escort her for me?”

“…I suppose so,” he acquiesces, suspicion obvious in his tone. Yet a second Braum appears and motions to me, so I step away from Vita and follow him. The moment I step outside the range of Vita’s silence bubble, the singing returns. I shudder, squishing my ears down against my head. Does she really want to see me? What if they’re lying to me? Claretta taught me that people can lie. I didn’t know before. I didn’t know when she was lying to me.

I follow the sound at first, but soon enough I can follow the smell. I’d know her soul anywhere, even as broken and jagged as I would always leave it. It’s Claretta. I know it’s Claretta. My heart leaps up in my chest and the pace of my walk increases. Soon, I turn a corner and she’s there, right in front of me. Her dark, mop-like hair falls over her heavily tanned face, lifting up a small, wet shirt to hang on a drying line. Behind her is a large, two-story wooden building with an abnormally large amount of fenced-in space between it and every other building nearby, space which a number of children are using to loudly and gleefully play. She spots me the moment she hangs up the shirt, and her song stops.

Her eyes go wide. Her breath catches. She grabs her own thigh, as if to remind herself that it’s there. But a moment later, she seems to master herself. She stills her trembling body, stares me in the eyes, and motions me towards her. I approach like someone possessed. The very concept of denying her doesn’t feel like something I can process right now.

With each step, her scent gets stronger. The memories claw harder in the back of my mind, taunting me, reminding me of each and every sin. The taste of her flesh, the sound of her sobs. Every last little torment and pain. All my fault. The evil I was born with will always be a part of me.

I stop when I reach the fence. It’s only waist-high. She steps forward, stopping on the other side. I feel like a child again in all the worst ways.

“It’s been a long two years,” Claretta says, her voice as beautiful as always. “Hasn’t it, Lark?”

“Y-yes,” I agree. “The longest two years of my life.”

I feel like a complete fool the moment the words leave my mouth. A joke? Really? At this moment, with this woman? Claretta has a blank look on her face for a moment, but then she jolts slightly, a hesitant mix of surprise and amusement appearing on her face.

“Ah, yes, I… suppose it would be,” she replies awkwardly. “You’re much bigger than you were before. Much stronger. I heard you fought on Hiverock night, a few months ago.”

“I… yes,” I confirm. “I did.”

She nods, an awkward silence stretching between us. She’s right about me being bigger. She’s shorter than I am now. Not that I’m unused to looking down on her.

“…I’m sorry,” Claretta says, and I think they’re the two most painful words I’ve ever heard in my life. Worse even than when she told me she hated me, all that time ago. I gape at her, utterly uncomprehending. She’s sorry? She’s sorry?

“Wh… but… why!?” I blurt. “Why would you ever… What could you possibly ever have to be sorry about!? I tortured you, I tortured your friends, I killed your friends, I ruined your whole life! For months, I… how could you…?”

“You were a child,” Claretta answers, looking away. “I couldn’t see that. I was too busy being selfish.”

“You are allowed to be selfish in that situation!” I all but shriek at her, water starting to pool in my eyes and fall down my cheeks. “You should have killed me!”

“Oh, I would have if I could have,” she says, giving me a sad smile. “But look at you now. A big hero, walking around with High Templars, saving more lives than I ever could. It’s hard to argue that things didn’t work out in the—”

“Stop that!” I yell at her. “Stop trivializing what I did, stop acting like you don’t matter! No one should ever go through what I did to you! I loved you, and I… I…!”

Contact. Warmth. Hunger. Claretta’s hand is on my cheek. She wipes a tear away. I look up at her, up into the exhausted, tense face of a woman I hurt as badly as you can hurt anyone. There’s no love on her face, no affection. She said she hated me when we parted ways, and she still hates me to this day.

“I forgive you,” she says.

“No,” I sob. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Are you the one that gets to decide that sort of thing?” she asks. “Or am I?”

My jaw trembles, the tears flowing full-force and preventing me from forming an answer.

“You broke me, Lark,” Claretta says, pulling her hand away. “You killed the woman I could have become and left me a hollow shell. But what do you expect me to do about it? Hold a grudge against a month-old child?”

She glances back at the kids playing behind her, the barest start to a soft smile brushing her face before it vanishes. She turns back to me.

“I’m nobody. I’ll matter to these kids and no one else. But you? You turned yourself around. You fought your demons, and best I can tell you won. You were better than me from the start. Stronger in every way that matters.”

She places a finger below my chin, urging my head up to make me look her in the eyes. I let her. Her face has a terrible expression. Bitter, frustrated, pained, and oh so exhausted.

“You’re my legacy whether I like it or not,” she tells me. “You’re the ghost that will outlive me. And by all accounts, you deserve to be. So I give up. I’m tired of hating you. I forgive you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one to turn you into the wonderful young woman you are today. Whoever they are, thank them for me.”

“I… I can’t,” I blubber. “He’s dead. I k-killed him.”

She smiles at that, the closest I’ve seen to a positive emotion since I arrived.

“Yes,” she says. “Of course you did. Goodbye, Lark. And good luck. If you hear me singing again, it’s not for you. Don’t come looking for me.”

“Okay,” nod. “But I-I need to say it too. I’m sorry, Claretta. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I don’t care,” she tells me, but I’ve seen her lie in my memories so many times I know exactly what it looks like. Something about that makes me smile just a little, and she looks away.

“…But I know you are, Lark,” she continues quietly. “I know you’re sorry.”

She turns and walks away, which I take as my cue to do the same. Tears and snot still waterfall down my face, and Braum respectfully says nothing as he leads me back to the others… or really wherever he pleases, since I’m not paying the slightest bit of attention to where he’s taking me. It doesn’t matter right now. I walk through the streets of Skyhope, blubbering and sobbing next to a High Templar, as the conversation replays in perfect clarity over and over in my mind.

“I forgive you.”