And then he was in the firmament again, scattered like so many times before, his mind and soul fractured. Instinctively, he fled into that place where the witness lived, where he could see the world dispassionately, without fear or despair, but it wasn’t enough. Somehow this time was different. He reached out for the scraps of his identity left adrift in the ocean of creation while other parts of himself slipped away. The harder he tried to hold on to himself, the more of his essential self drained away, until there was nothing left but the witness, detached, uncaring, accepting.
He wasn’t certain how long he simply watched the world form out of the formless, each moment created anew in a procession through time that had neither beginning nor end. In this place, he no longer cared about the outcome, wasn’t concerned for his survival, felt no fear or pain or love. He simply was.
He was the watcher.
Thoughts of Siduri came to him unbidden and unexpected, followed by a great rushing sensation as if all of creation was passing through his consciousness at once. In the next moment, he was standing on a riverbank, whole and unharmed, yet somehow different, more like a memory than a man.
A family was playing in the water at the edge of the river not far from where he stood, three boys and their parents. Siduri looked up with a start when Alexander approached, his eyes going wide for a moment as if he suddenly remembered the truth of the world … and his part in its plight.
“How did you get here?” he asked, standing to face Alexander, fear and guilt staining his complex colors.
“I’m not entirely sure. I think I might be dead.”
Siduri slowly shook his head. “You wouldn’t be here if you were dead. There’s really only one way.”
His wife and children vanished, followed a moment later by the little cabin set away from the river.
“What is this place?”
“This is where I live. It’s my home. I created it from my memories.”
“A construct,” Alexander said.
“Yes.”
“But it’s not real.”
Siduri poked him in the chest. “It’s as real as anything else.”
“No, it’s not,” Alexander said. “The real world is out there. Real people are suffering and dying in the real world and they don’t have the luxury of such a well-crafted fantasy.”
Siduri looked down at the mud along the riverbank.
“When I took the blood of the earth, you judged me,” Alexander said. “And perhaps rightfully so. But now you’re judging yourself. You can’t even look at me.”
“You don’t belong here, Alexander,” Siduri said without looking up. “Go back to your world; leave me to mine.”
“This isn’t the real world, it’s make-believe. Come back with me,” Alexander said.
“There’s nothing for me there.”
“Then why do you watch?”
Siduri looked down again.
“You watch because you know that what happens in the real world matters-it matters to countless families like the one you used to have. Help me.”
“You know what happened the last time I interfered. I won’t risk that again.”
“Yes … I know exactly what you did. You doomed the world, and only you can fix that.”
“What do you mean?” Siduri asked, horror vying with hope in his colors.
“The Taker is a creature of bargains. He brought your children back from death, but you never paid his price. Until you do, the shades will torment the world every chance they get, and one day they will win.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that your children will never be free of the Taker until you pay his price.”
Siduri shook his head in denial. “You can’t know that.”
Alexander held him with his eyes, waiting for Siduri to work through the magnitude of what he was asking.
“No, you’re wrong. My children are lost. Sacrificing myself won’t bring them back.”
“No, it won’t, but it might set them free.”
“No … you have to leave, now!” Siduri said, his fear morphing into anger. “You have no right to intrude like this.”
Alexander opened his hands helplessly. “I don’t know how to leave.”
Siduri grabbed him by the wrist and the façade of his past life vanished. They moved through the part of the firmament where Alexander had felt so detached and into the roiling, ever-changing surface where creation happened, and then Alexander was back in the cell, and the pain was back, except the collar was lying on the floor nearby, still closed.
Alexander crumpled to his knees, the agony overtaking him once again, then he rolled onto his side and moaned in renewed suffering.
“You’re back,” Chloe nearly shouted in his mind. “I thought you were dead, except you were just gone. Please don’t leave me like that. I can’t live without you. I almost went home.” She broke down crying.
“I’m right here, Little One,” he managed to think through the pain. “But I have to send my mind away again for a while, it’ll help me survive the poison they gave me.”
“You’re coming back, right?”
“Yes,” Alexander said, slipping into the firmament again, but only with his mind. The pain vanished like a cool breeze. He savored the relief of it while watching his body tremble, curled up in the fetal position on the floor. His transition into the firmament was easy, almost like second nature. He’d had so few opportunities to use his magic to its fullest since he’d arrived in Mithel Dour. It was as if resting his magic had strengthened it, like muscles given time to recover after a strenuous effort. Free of the collar, he decided to use the time to coordinate with his allies.
He thought of Isabel and the world rushed by in an instant before he found himself in an overly decorated room. Isabel was beaten and bruised, lying unconscious in bed. A severe-looking woman was sitting vigil beside her. Isabel’s colors told an even more troubling story. She was weak, beaten nearly to death and just barely holding on to life. Emotions tumbled through Alexander: fear, sympathy, love, rage.
He materialized at the foot of the bed, fixing the startled woman with a murderous glare. “Who did this to her?”
She stood up, knocking her chair over, looking at him as if he were a ghost.
“Answer my question!”
“Prince Phane,” she said, fear coursing through her colors.
“Will she survive?”
“Yes,” the woman said, nodding tightly. “Prince Phane has commanded that she must survive.”
Alexander vanished and reappeared just a step in front of her, causing her fear to spike even more. “See to it that she does, or you will answer to me as well.”
He faded from sight and slipped into Isabel’s mind, finding his way into her dreams. She was struggling against the Wraith Queen, fighting with all her strength, but losing the battle bit by bit, giving ground to avoid injury. Alexander imposed his will on the scene, but this was not a normal nightmare, it was induced by Azugorath, so he wasn’t able to dispel her so easily. Realizing the true nature of the fight Isabel was locked in, he chose to attack the construct rather than the demon, casting away the deep, dark cavern where they fought and transforming it into a bright sunny day in the meadows of Glen Morillian.
Azugorath shrieked at the sunlight, vanishing with a roar of fury and hate.
“Hi,” he said, appearing in front of Isabel.
“Is that really you?” she asked, hope and wariness in her voice.
“It’s really me,” he said, willing the scene to change, transforming the fields of Glen Morillian into the simple little altar where they were married in the Valley of the Fairy Queen.
She threw her arms around him, crying uncontrollably. He just held her, giving her as much love and strength as she could take in.