Aidan

The Realms

Firstday, 2nd week of the 12th month, Age of the Chosen 1

Sunset

Caer Macht, Ceallach Macht, Mistvale Highlands

"Ailis, this isn't the way to either Brighid's forge or our chambers," Aidan said. A boulder settled into the pit of his stomach. "Where are we going?"

"She is not... Brighid..." hot tears splashed against Aidan's chest. "I will take you to her," Ailis repeated her earlier declaration. Her pace was slow, even plodding, as if each step took supreme physical and mental effort. "Did... you win?" she asked, perhaps as a distraction.

Aidan allowed it. He needed something to keep his mind from hyper-focusing on the worst possibilities. "We killed Karsarrym, yes. The cost was high. Fifteen marines died, a dozen more heavily wounded." He gestured at his missing legs. "I lost my legs, Karsarrym bit off Ysbail's left arm, and one of the gargoyles got pretty well shattered. Alkelda, Enys, and Conor," damn him to Hell, "are dead. So is... have the Kanitti arrived yet?"

"The who?"

"I guess not," Aidan said with a chuckle. "We met a group of travelers, rabbit and hare-folk, from a distant corner of the Highlands. They had a grudge against Karsarrym and were led to us by a prophet of some sort. Two of them, women named Ritva and Aija, joined us. I sent the rest here with a few of the Snow-Water Rider mercenaries guarding them. They should arrive within a week or so."

Aidan shook his head and continued. "Anyway, Ritva didn't make it, either. She died saving Eldrid and me from Karsarrym's final attack. Aija's been inconsolable ever since. I don't know what was between them, but she hasn't spent five minutes away from the wagon carrying the dead the whole trip back."

"And, of course," Ailis said with weariness weighing down her voice, "you blame yourself for losing so many. No, I understand, my King." She let out a long sigh. "We will speak more... later. We are here."

'Here' was a nondescript room along Caer Macht's outer ring. To Aidan's knowledge, it hadn't been in use when the expedition left. He remembered it as a bare chamber with a series of stone slabs and recesses along the walls, like a lab or... a morgue.

Cai opened the door since Ailis's hands were full carrying Aidan. Magelight illuminated the room, revealing everything the same as when Aidan last saw it, with one single exception.

Laid out on her side on the centermost slab, Brighid looked to be sleeping from the entrance. Her fur gleamed like brushed copper, as pristine as Aidan ever saw it. A green silk blouse embraced her upper body, clinging tight to her breasts and loose around her waist. Aoife's control bracelet encircled her right wrist. His eyes went to Brighid's neck, but it was hidden in a cascade of crimson hair.

"Take me closer," Aidan said in a voice even he could hardly hear. Ailis stepped forward, each leg moving individually, each clack of hoof on stone sounding to Aidan like the mournful tolling of a bell. As they approached, he took in the extra details and context he'd missed on the first pass.

Brighid's hair and coat were both brushed, cleaned, and shining. She never did those sorts of things before bed as it was, in her words, wasted effort. Someone trimmed her fingernails so that they were all even, another thing Brighid did not usually bother with. Her work in the forge caused too many broken nails for her to care about keeping them neat. Most telling, she wasn't moving, not even the slight rise and fall in her upper or lower chests indicating breathing.

Dread crept up from the pit in Aidan's stomach. Its serrated claws tore at his heart and soul, freeing the dying ember inside him to rage once more. His breath shortened and quickened until it came in brief, pained pants. Aidan's eyes locked onto Brighid's neck as Ailis rounded the side of the slab. There was a sapphire blue scarf wrapped around her neck and shoulders. Brighid didn't own any scarves and never, ever hid her choker from view.

With a trembling hand, Aidan reached out. He swept Brighid's hair back with the gentlest touch he'd ever used on her. Then he fumbled at the scarf, peeling it away, revealing the bronzed skin beneath. What was left of it.

Four slashes crossed Brighid's throat parallel to her shoulders. Each cut went deep, well into her trachea and jugular veins. No blood spilled forth. Aidan's stomach heaved and lurched, filling his mouth with bile. He swallowed hard. Without conscious thought, he started to chant.

"[Scarlet plumes stir the ashes—]"

"Stop him! Quickly!" Aidan heard Ailis's panicked voice, felt her setting him down on Brighid, but nothing registered. There was only the sight of his Soulmate's lifeless corpse before him.

"[—golden flames bloom in their wake—]"

A rapid clatter of hooves on stone, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, not even his life, not if there was even the slimmest chance of bringing her back. He had a spare; she didn't.

"[—Kindle the soul, consume the mind, ignite the flesh. I give mine life to light—]"

A sharp, hard slap snapped Aidan's head back on his shoulders. He tasted blood in his mouth, a consequence of biting his tongue. His chanting stumbled to a halt and his eyes focused on Ailis and Cai. Ailis's face was red and blotchy and soaking with tears. Cai's was pale and tight.

"You cannot!" Ailis's voice started strident, then turned into a wail as she continued, "she is dead. My baby is dead, and you cannot bring her back. Do not leave me too." She swallowed, then said in a whisper, "Not you too. Please, Aidan, she is lost to us. It has been too long. Her soul is gone."

Aidan knew she spoke the truth. He felt Brighid go, oh, so many hours ago. He felt her soul tear free from his to pass beyond Death's door. His eyes drifted to the slashes in his Soulmate's neck. No manufactured weapon made those cuts. His gaze shifted to the golden bracelet.

"Where is Aoife?" Aidan asked, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

Aoife

The tiny kernel of thought constituting Aoife's true self worked at a fever pace. She left control of her body and mind to her corrupted Masque. There wasn't much harm it could do as she dangled from ceiling-mounted manacles. She knew Aidan would come for her, sooner or later. She had one chance to get a message to him without interference, but it would take every ounce of preparation and willpower.

The orders given to her by the true master of the collar around her neck were absolute. Its magic forced her to obey to the point that it overwhelmed and seized control of Aoife's mind. Only her Masquerade Trait allowed her any glimmer of freedom. The partition it granted her between her current Masque and her true self seemed inviolable. And, when she created a new Masque, it started out free from outside influence, a copy of her genuine thoughts and memories filtered through the Masque's custom-tailored skills, memories, and personality.

It wouldn't last, however. Even within her mental sanctum, Aoife could feel the waves of compulsion surging through the ninja Masque. Her tyrant's commands would not release her until she killed Aidan or started a war between the tribes. She would only get a handful of seconds with her fresh persona before it, too, succumbed.

When making a new Masque, Aoife's usual process involved plentiful, painstaking preparation. She crafted each persona's history and personality with hours of internal roleplay, then matched skills, affinities, and attributes to the results. She had no time for any of that now. The only thing it needed to do was convince Aidan to kill her.

Instead, Aoife poured everything into Charisma and Persuasion to get the most from her limited time and Willpower to give her that time. She spared not a single thought to background or personality. None of it would matter.

The cell door creaked open. Aoife peered out through her body's eyes as Cai entered, followed by Ailis carrying Aidan cradled in her arms. Why wasn't he walking himself? Her Masque trailed her gaze down his body, then focused on where his legs should be.

"Oh, look at you," it said. "Now, you are as much of a man as I always knew you were." In other circumstances, Aoife would've been fascinated by the different reactions each of her visitors showed to the acidic, sneering words emerging from her mouth.

"Why?" Aidan asked, his face a stoic mask to match Aoife's best. "Why did you do it?" There was no emotion in his voice. Inside her sanctum, Aoife felt a wave of sorrow. He was teetering on the edge, and the next few seconds would push him over. If she could see any other way out, she'd take it, but she couldn't let the tyrant win. Even if she had to break every egg to escape her fate, she'd do it. She could always make an omelet later.

"It was a job like any other," Aoife's Masque lied.

"I don't believe that for a second. There was too much time and effort involved for it to be so simple. Who is your true master?"

As if the Masque would give that up. "Oh, Aidan," it responded with Aoife's voice, "were your brains in your knees? I thought they were at least a little higher than that. Can you not guess who holds my leash?"

Aidan's lips tightened a fraction of an inch. "I've heard enough," he said. His head turned toward Cai.

Aoife was out of time. Her new Masque wasn't complete yet, but it would have to do. She switched it in. "Aidan, please," her voice rang out with her best pleading tone. Already, Aoife could feel the collar tightening around her neck as its magic stormed through her mind. "You have to kill me. It's the only way—" Her defenses crumbled.

"—you'll redeem any fragment of masculinity you once had," the now-corrupted Masque finished.

Aidan stared at her for a few long seconds. Aoife could see the wheels turning in his head even as her Masque spit out a stream of invectives. At the very least, she'd planted a seed of doubt. Even if he didn't free her, maybe she'd still accomplish—

Aidan

The light behind Aoife's eyes dulled and faded as Aidan's Blade of Burning Wrath pierced up through her chin and out the top of her head. As she died, two notifications burst into sight.

Oathbreaker!

Know that you broke a solemn Oath before the Gods and Powers to never strike Aoife with intent to cause harm except in defense of yourself or another of your household.

All parties to this Oath know of your treachery. You now bear the epithet 'the Forsworn' and have penalties to experience and skill growth until all parties agree to grant you absolution.

Know this: You have fulfilled your Oath to Aoife to free her from slavery.

Though your methods were unconventional and the results fatal, you fulfilled Aoife's second most fervent desire and granted her freedom. Your relationship with her will greatly improve if you ever see her again.

Aidan closed his eyes as his heart, mind, and soul burned to ashes inside him. Yet more innocent blood on his hands, and this time it was someone he loved. Where would it end? When? He couldn't even kill himself. It wouldn't stick, and Ailis would surely act to prevent him from repeating the process.

And Aoife was innocent. Aidan was sure of it. Whoever controlled the collar around her neck was his true enemy, and that list of possibilities only had one name right now. One person had the cunning and patience to maneuver all the pieces. One individual who used all those around him to further his own goals, who was a friend one day and an enemy the next, who planted poisonous seeds and asked others to clean them up.

"Searlas," Aidan said, his voice dropping into a rumbling growl, "if this is your doing, I swear what I did to Ailill mac Mara will seem like mercy. I will not kill you quickly. I will grind you to dust beneath my feet and burn your legacy to ash until no one dares to remember your name. This I swear by Brigantia's cleansing flame."

A notification appeared beside the others, but Aidan paid it no heed. He hadn't spoken with idle intent.

"Aidan—" Ailis started to speak, but he cut her off.

"No, Ailis. I know what I'm doing. Take me back to my chambers." A thought occurred to him, and his eyes widened. "Wait! What about Sunnild? Is she...?"

"Alive and well," Ailis answered. "She happened to be staying with Wulfryn last night. Aoife," her eyes flicked to the corpse dangling on the far wall, "killed the guards at your chamber but made too much noise doing it. Your elementals and the other guards caught her on her way to my quarters."

Aidan let out a relieved sigh. "I'll need the guards' names, but it can wait. There are other things we have to handle first. Preparing for a big state funeral first, then magic training."

"Magic?" Cai asked, sounding perplexed at the apparent non sequitur.

"Magic," Aidan confirmed. "Ailis, am I correct in thinking the spell you've been working on for me will work just as well without my legs as with them?"

"Oh," Ailis said, then, "oh," in a sadder tone. The spell Aidan referred to was intended to allow him and Brighid to have children by turning Aidan into a true centaur, genetics and all. It wouldn't fulfill that purpose now, not until Aidan could make use of a certain spellbook hidden in his spatial bag. "Yes," she said, "you are correct. Its effects do not depend on your initial state. It only matters that you are a human male. There are other, less drastic, solutions, though."

"None as quick, however," he responded. "I'm very close to hitting Journeyman in Beast Magic. Once we have the funeral prepared, I want you to help get me the rest of the way there. We'll have a couple of days before the rest of the caravan gets here, and I want the Kanitti present as well. Ritva and Aija deserve no less."

Ailis took a deep breath and squared her slim shoulders. "Of course, my Lord."