“I am not afraid of you,” Frauk said. “Harm me, and not even your friends will protect you from House Cannith’s retribution.”
“I do not wish to harm you,” Omax said, removing his hand and folding his arms across his chest. “I pity you. You envy me and my kind because we represent change. You see us as a symbol of everything you have failed to become. You must reduce us to nothing because you think so very little of yourself. It is your own hatred that drives so many of my brothers to take up arms against their creators. You are fortunate that I have risen above that.” Omax backed away from Gavus once more.
Gavus glared at the warforged. “Master Xain, I believe my obligation to Dalan d’Cannith is fulfilled,” he said. “Take your weapon and leave my workshop now.”
“Right away, Master Frauk,” Tristam said. He slung his satchel of tools over one shoulder. The homunculus scurried up his leg and climbed into the bag.
“And take this,” the golemwright said. He drew a folded envelope from his pocket and offered it to Tristam.
“What is it?” Tristam asked.
“A speaker post from Norra Cais,” Gavus said. “The bit I could read instructed me to give it to you if you passed through Korth. The rest was encoded.”
“Thank you,” Tristam said, taking the letter.
“Whatever,” Gavus said. “Get out.” He shooed Tristam and Omax away with a dismissive gesture.
Tristam and Omax walked out, quietly closing the door behind them and making their way through the halls of the Cannith estate.
“I apologize for losing my temper, Tristam,” Omax said.
“Why?” Tristam asked. “He provoked you.”
“You seemed upset,” the warforged said. “You reacted as if you believed I would harm him.”
“No,” Tristam said, grinning. “I was sure you wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for him. Knowing you, I figured he might learn something.”
Omax chuckled.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Omax?” Tristam asked. “You seem different.”
“I feel different,” he said. “It is the pain.”
“You’re in pain?” Tristam asked, worried. He immediately reached into his satchel.
“I am not,” Omax said. “For the first time in decades, I am not.”
“What do you mean?” Tristam said, surprised.
“When you found me beneath that Breland monastery, I was barely alive,” Omax said. “You repaired me sufficiently to walk and speak, but your skills and resources were, at the time, insufficient to repair me fully.”
“I remember,” Tristam said. “Ashrem completed your repairs when we returned to Zil’argo.”
“Some of them,” Omax said. “There was a great deal of deep internal damage that I requested he leave intact. Ashrem honored my wishes, fixing only what I needed to survive.”
Tristam looked at Omax in surprise. “For all these years?” he asked. “Why?”
“I felt a deep sense of shame that I survived when so many others perished,” Omax said. “When I emerged into the light, I blamed myself for the deaths of my friends, my enemies, and the innocents who stood in our way. I wanted to remember their sacrifices. I begged Ashrem to repair me just enough so that I would survive. That was why you found me so difficult to repair, Tristam. It wasn’t merely the fact that I took so much damage in so short a time in our battles against Marth, but that my new injuries exacerbated wounds I have borne for decades.” Omax lifted his arms, examining his new limbs. “I think that is why I feel so strange. The pain had become a part of me. And now it is gone.”
“I’m sorry, Omax,” Tristam said.
Omax looked at his distressed friend. “Do not be ridiculous, Tristam,” the warforged said. “It was foolish of me to torment myself. My mind is clearer than it has ever been. I feel as strong as the day I was built.”
“Stronger,” Tristam said.
Omax looked at Tristam sharply.
“Theoretically, in any case,” Tristam said. “Once I got to work, the repairs went more smoothly than I expected. I made a few improvements, reinforcing your design. It only proved what I suspected since my vision in Zul’nadn.”
“What is that?” Omax said.
“The Legacy destroys magic by drawing upon the elemental power that Ashrem drew from the Dragon’s Eye,” Tristam said, “but that isn’t the Eye’s true purpose. It’s a force of creation-not destruction. When I infused your body with Karia Naille’s magic, that power didn’t just sustain your life. It made my repairs easier as well.”
“For a time, aboard the ship, I felt the presence of a force greater than myself,” Omax said. “I felt a great sense of peace. I thought perhaps it was my proximity to death, but the feeling faded almost immediately after I was removed from the ship. I was, briefly, one with something ancient and boundless.”
“The Eye is alive?” Tristam said, surprised.
“I cannot say,” Omax said. “I have spent much of my own existence wondering if I am truly alive. I am not the best person to judge another being’s sentience.”
Tristam scratched his chin as he struggled with his thoughts. Ahead of them lay the gardens at the center of the Cannith estate. Dalan, Ijaac, Seren, and Gerith sat around a stone table near a bubbling fountain. Dalan was deeply engrossed in a book while the others occupied themselves with a game of cards.
“Tristam!” Ijaac said, looking up eagerly. “About time you came back. If I lose another round I’ll have to sell my pants to pay this girl.”
“I’ll pay your debt before I let you roam my ship naked, dwarf,” Dalan said. “How go the repairs?”
Seren dropped her cards, staring past Tristam. The warforged had remained in the hall, shadowed by the doorway. “Omax?” she said, rising from her seat. “Is that Omax?”
The warforged stepped fully into the light, allowing his friends to see him. His metal skin sparkled in the morning sun. He stood taller. The scars that riddled his body were gone, but his eyes shone with the same familiar light. Dalan’s book closed with a snap.
Seren ran to the warforged, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek against his chest. Omax glanced down in surprise. He clasped her in one arm, his massive hand covering her entire shoulder. Her eyes glistened with sudden tears when she looked up at him.
“You’re alive,” were the only words she could manage.
“It is as you promised, Seren,” he said fondly, looking to each of them. “You brought me home.”
Seren stepped away from him and wrapped her arm around Tristam, kissing him softly on the cheek. He held her close, blushing fiercely at the public display of affection.
“Hope you’ll settle for a handshake from me,” Ijaac said, smiling broadly up at the warforged.
Omax nodded silently and shook the dwarf’s hand.
“Good to have you back,” Ijaac said. “I was afraid they’d start making me do all the heavy lifting.”
“Extraordinary,” Dalan said, staring at Omax in awe. “How did you accomplish this, Tristam?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Tristam said. “I have some theories, but I want to study Karia Naille’s core a bit more before I’ll be certain.”
“Omax,” Gerith said, looking up at the warforged.
Omax gazed down at his halfling friend.
The little scout patted his colorful jacket and leggings frantically, emitted a small yelp, and fled the courtyard.
“What was that about?” Ijaac asked.
“I hope we never know,” Dalan replied blandly, tucking his book into his pocket. He faced Tristam again. “Did Master Frauk give you any trouble for using his workshop?”
“He was his usual self, but at least he didn’t try to kill us this time,” Tristam said. “He did give me a post from Norra …” Tristam took the envelope from his pocket and studied its contents. A softly whispered word caused Norra’s code to reform into legible characters under Tristam’s scrutiny.