Chapter 62: Sympathy

"I am not your enemy."

Music

There's no light in the field, and no indication of either woman. Their camp appears to have been put away. The moon is black.

I have to do something with everything that Beltoro taught me.

You hold out the Relic of Mercy. Its gentle radiance casts a faint glow before you, illuminating only a few feet of the field.

​

I will honor her passing.

You walk for some time past the doors of hundreds of demons. You had not explored the abyss for all of your time here, but you are searching now. Every door that you pass by is concealed by nothing but soil and grain. You imagine that the archdemon had spent many ages attending to them all, yet she only asked you to see to three of her children.

She was compassionate.

There are no corpses. There is no revelry. There is no life.

There's no telling how much damage I've done.

There's no sense of time, this deep in the darkness, but you don't particularly care.

I'll make the time. I'll make amends.

You've made time. You'll take the time for your allies, for your friends, for your companions, and for yourself. Your steps are methodical, and grow stronger by the moment as you hold out the Relic. The pain has subsided. The familiar warmth in your hands is comforting, and draws nothing from yourself. It takes only from the item you hold aloft.

It is such a strange contrast to the drain that the Gods usually take on you that it makes you question everything.

I will pray. I will gauge the damage. I will implore each and every God to ensure that I know the extent of our ability.

You have no idea what the item is that you hold, what power is within you, or what connection you still have to the Gods— but you know that there is a border to the abyss. Stretching up towards the ruins is a steep slope of stone. At its base are two women. They're pale and so tense that they both jump the moment you approach them.

"Father—"

"Richard—!"

Celegwen has been methodically conjuring a staircase up towards Ostedholm. The steps sprawl beyond your reach, to staggering heights above you all, but there is no end in sight to this domain.

Ofelia is obviously so exhausted that she can barely stand upright, and leans against the wall of Idonea's domain. She looks to you with so much fear that you hardly recognize her.

The sorceress spins around, staff in hand, as she realizes what you're holding.

Both women stare at you with so much disbelief that you think they may faint.

Ofelia takes a step back. She has a dagger in her hands. It's so slick with poison that you can see it from a distance.

The light of Mercy does not reach her. Fear of the Gods is in her.

The trembling blade is pointed at you, as it drips with lethality and broken promises. "Stay back. Stay back. Drop it. Stay back."

Mercy, no. I know they are afraid.

"I sincerely wish I could drop it. I wish I could just let you go with the Relic. Seeing my face is obviously the last thing you want right now." You take a step forward. "But I can't do that."

Ofelia is so tense that you know without question that if you don't calm her down she will try to kill you.

Celegwen is utterly silent, but stands behind the halfling with her staff at the ready. You are too unfamiliar with Magic to know if she is bracing to attack or is merely so distraught that she seems hostile.

"What's happened to both of you? Not just in my absence— but beforehand— I don't— I want to understand. I need to know what you've been through. I never wanted for you to get hurt."

The rogue lowers her dagger very slowly. So slowly that you don't catch the motion at first. It's as if she's trying to not provoke an attack from you.

She starts crying hysterically, and drops the dagger to the floor. Celegwen makes no motion to comfort her. She's staring at you so intently that her eyes might as well be daggers.

Ofelia puts her face in her hands, and sobs through the break in her composure. "Why haven't you asked sooner?! What's wrong with you?! What did they do to you?!"

You hold your ground, and you tell them everything.

It takes a while.

Both women are utterly silent through your retelling. As soft-spoken as you are, there is no timidness in your voice. This is as important to you as the Gods. You omit nothing.

Ofelia will not stop crying, but you press on. Your recount of Beltoro's domain almost has to be shouted, as she's crying so hard that she can hardly hear you.

By the end of it, she has to sit down, and is slumped against the far wall.

Celegwen remains utterly neutral through the entire tale.

Your conviction is absolute. Neither of them stop you. There is not a single interruption. "...my mistakes caused this to happen. My weakness. My sin. But I— but I will atone. I intend to change and I will do so now. I will make things right. I have always cared for both of you. I have always wanted to do what is best. Whatever fear you have for me— whatever hate you hold— I— I want to know. I want to feel, to understand, to grow. I am the Father of the Church of Mercy. I will ensure that we all escape this place, this abyss, and all of these ruins."

You place a hand to your chest, holding your gift as closely as you can.

"I will be fit to wield this Relic." The sage of your eyes catches on the gold. You look to your companions so earnestly that Ofelia stops crying, if only for a moment. "The fear you have is misplaced, Ofelia. I know you are afraid. Please— help me understand why. I want nothing more than uphold my promises to you both. To aid you, to help you, to heal. Please. Help me make amends. I— I want to listen. I want to learn. I am tired of my ignorance and my inadequacy. Permit me to live up to my title. I am the leader of the Church of Mercy. I am not your enemy."

Her voice is raw, devastated and utterly unlike anything you've heard her say before. Her sass and desire to prove herself to you are gone. Utterly terrified, her red eyes fix on the divinity you hold over your chest. "Richard— Father— I don't even know what the fuck to say anymore—!" She has to stop a moment to sob harder. Celegwen finally moves to place a hand on the halfling's shoulder, but she shrugs it off instantly. "Don't fuckin' touch me! You're both crazy. Everyone here is crazy—! I was crazy to think that I could come here and not go crazy, too—!"

You don't waver. You've been called far worse things. "Ofelia, I'm not insane. Neither are you. Please— talk to me. Tell me what you need to say. I have been dealing with demons, but what have you suffered through? What can I ever say— what can I— what could I possibly do to make this right for you?"

Her eyes are so irritated from sleep deprivation, strain and tears that you can scarcely see the blue. They bore into you, your flesh, your Relic, and your conviction. There's hope. There's fear. "I DIDN'T WANT TO HEAR IT, RICHARD. I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO FUCKIN' TELL ME ANYMORE. I didn't want to know— I didn't need to know! You've got yer Gods and yer demons and I've only got myself—! I'm hungry, I'm tired, I want to go home— you fuckin' know why! If you can help me get out of here, I'll go! I'm done. I can't take this anymore! THIS IS TOO MUCH. You're too much."

There's a measure of viciousness that gradually softens and turns into more tears still. "I don't need to worry about someone readin' my mind or bein' surrounded by people who aren't afraid to die. I don't want to know about demons who would push you this far just for a fuckin' church. I never wanted to see you break, I never needed to know any of this shit! I'M DONE. You can keep yer Relic. I don't know if I want yer help anymore, Richard. I'm scared."

She draws into herself further, crying hard. "I don't want you or anythin' from these demons near my Pa. I don't even want to know what it does. Not after all of this."

Celegwen remains completely silent.

You give her some space. A moment to cry, to have some respect shown to her, and to give her something you are rapidly realizing you've scarcely shown to your friends before.

Mercy.

They've both been through more than anyone rightfully deserves. I should have expected this. It's a miracle they hadn't left sooner— but I can't make this right without their honesty. I can't hope to deal with this when there's so much weighing on them.

I'll set things right as soon as I possibly can. As soon as I know we can safely leave this place.

Celegwen's absolute silence eventually is eclipsed by the absence of Ofelia's sobs. The halfling gathers herself, her strength, and looks to you for something.

You give her the respect she deserves. "Will you permit me to get you both to safety?"

"Y-yeah." Her blonde hair is flat and matted against her hood as she pulls it up over her eyes— hiding how raw and red they must still be. "...yeah." She sniffs, still looking up to you. It's obvious that she still wants to hear what you have to say, despite her outbursts.

"Would you allow me to get you some untainted food, water, and rest? I— we don't have to talk. I want to see to it that you're taken care of."

"...well, shit. Yeah, Richard. If you can."

"It's— it's the least I can do. Especially given how much you both have looked after me."

There is an unspoken discomfort between the three of you, as you walk them away from the wall, the doors, the darkness, and the edge of the abyss. You all are accustomed to traveling together— under pressure, unable to speak, guarded and fearful of making a sound— but you're rapidly realizing that their lack of discourse may have been voluntary all along.

The women hang back as you reconvene with the demons, your dog, and explain the situation as best as you're able.

Yech's disgust is immediate and so intense that he nearly begins to curse in front of the girls. "She— they— Richard I'm going to hold my tongue just this once. Get over here—"

Yech immediately sets you aside from the minor demons, leading you to the far end of the abyss, and away from Idonea's resting site. They appear to have made a small enclosure of flowers for the archdemon, and you both have no desire to disturb their efforts.

You keep ahead of the women— who reluctantly trail behind you, the demon lord, and Ray.

The moment you suspect you're all out of earshot of the girls and your companions, Yech tears into the situation. The puff of his sleeves and his audacious hat bounce slightly with how quickly he's walking. He's obviously eager to put as much distance between himself and the minor demons as possible while you speak to one another.

"This is fucking ridiculous. You don't deserve this shit. They sure fucking don't. It's horse shit, Richard. We should be getting you some fucking wine and champagne— don't give me that fucking face! I don't care how bad Rem's taste is— we're taking care of you—"

"They just need some rest, Yech. We all do."

"Bullshit! You're lucky I'm so fucking great, Richard, I swear— Ray was fine, by the way—"

"I noticed. Thank you." Casting a glance back to the funeral site, you're only greeted by a faint glow carrying over the tallest stalks of grain. "...and the girls?"

"They'll be alright. Thanks for the service and everything. You didn't have to do that shit. Not after everything we put you through—"

"I did, Yech. I really did. There's a lot of things I need to start doing."

The demon lord situates you on the furthest reaches of the abyss. He conjures a few lanterns, proper beds, a small stack of food and a fountain that appears to run with clean water. "I'll be back with the champagne later, Richard. Maybe some confetti. Don't fuck up the fountain and I'll impress the shit out of you. I'm not gonna lose someone and not celebrate the shit out of everything she did. You're not going through all this trouble without some fucking respect. I'll be back."

He almost immediately turns to leave. "I'm going to go see to the girls, alright?"

"Thank you, Yech. Take care of yourself, too."

Ofelia walks straight past him, and collapses on one of the beds without another word to you both.

The demon lord makes a gesture so explicit to the halfling that you can't help but utter a small prayer.

He promptly amplifies the gesture to get a rise out of you.

You can't help but comply.

Your exchange continues for a moment without provoking any response from either woman.

The demon lord— bristling— looks between Ofelia and Celegwen, paying absolutely no mind to the fact that the rogue is already unconscious. "You're fucking welcome! I'd expect some fucking sympathy or maybe a "congratulations" to your main man over here but fuck you too. Fuck you too." He actually throws his hat to the ground, seems to regret the action, and immediately sets to conjuring a new one. "I'll see you around, Richard. Unbelievable. Fucking cunts."

He storms off.

Celegwen looks to the discarded hat— obviously bothered— but nothing remains spoken between the two of you.

You look to the elf with no small measure of apology, but you let the demon lord's actions speak for themselves.

You have your own actions to worry about. "Do you need a moment, Celegwen? Or— or anything else, for that matter—"

She shakes her head, and moves to leave.

You catch her with your words. "Then, I hope you know that you can be honest with me. Truly, as I should— as I want to—"

The elf only lingers for a moment, her gaze on the horizon. "I simply need some time to think, Father."

Something has happened to her. I don't know what, I don't know why— but she needs space. They all do.

You let the elf leave. She walks off into the grain with nowhere to go, and you reassure yourself that she'll surely return.

"...Ray? You've been waiting all this time, haven't you? You've been a very good boy. Who's a good boy?"

You permit yourself to relax slightly, kneeling down to your dog. He looks healthier and happier than you've seen him in weeks. It's evident that Yech has cleaned him up, kept him fed and ensured that he hasn't endured anything worse than all of the strain you've put him through.

Your best friend licks your face, delighted to see you. His anxiety is still evident, with his ears back and his tail down— but you know without question that he loves you.

You both spend a quiet hour in the grain, far enough away from Ofelia sleeping that your mastiff can run, play, and get the attention he so badly deserves.

By the time you lay out on the soil next to him, his demeanor has noticeably improved. You've dedicated years to training him, to ensuring that he knows how to keep you both safe, and he is eager to show you all the affection you deserve.

Looking up to the black moon overhead, you can't help but talk to him. It feels like a lifetime since you last had a minute alone together. You scratch him behind his ears, kiss him gently on his forehead, and he slumps his head down onto your chest while you lay beside each other.

"We did it, Ray. We did it. I can't believe I was so selfish— taking you down here with me like this. You don't regret it though, do you, boy?"

He looks to you, blissfully unaware of almost everything you've endured.

"Of course not. You're the best. We're going to get you a nice little place back home. All the steak you want. Maybe a girl— or are you too tough for that?"

You ruffle the fur atop his head, sitting upright and hugging your boy.

"We're going to make sure you're taken care of. I'm so sorry, Ray. I'm sorry. You never should have come down here. I've been selfish— I've been so foolish— but we're going to do better, okay? Everything is going to be alright. We're going to get you out of here."

You squeeze him a little tighter. The mastiff is more than happy to lean against you, giving you all the reassurance you need. He loves you, too.

"Thank you, Ray. I would never have made it this far without you. You took on that war chief, didn't you, boy? Orgoth wasn't so tough. Not compared to you. You saved me from Beltoro, too, didn't you, boy? Way back— and you've done so good, boy. Followed me without complaint— went hungry and still guarded me when I was at my lowest—"

With a low whine, Ray leans a little harder against you, reminding you that it's okay to be upset. Without judgement, ridicule or question.

"You're too good for this place, Ray. You're such a good boy. We're going to get you home. Come on. Good boy, Ray. Follow."

You both get up, and with a few commands you ensure that your mastiff looks safely over Ofelia while you take care of one final relationship. The one that is most important to you.

The Gods.

Finding a space absent of doors, grain and of darkness is impossible. You take a lantern from the campsite, and have to clear out a space of empty soil. Placing only a candle before you, you set aside the lantern and carefully lay Mercy's Relic beside it.

You kneel, clasp your hands, and set out for a mission that is long overdue.

A mission of atonement.