Golden hour sunlight sliced across the top of the bluffs and obscured my vision as I pulled myself up and over the summit. Scaling it had given me time to think, to come to terms with the worst that could happen. What was likely to happen.

I was always too late. Despite every effort to the contrary, every painstaking effort to get ahead of things before they happened, and a lifetime of chronic overthinking, that’s how it felt. I could manage a small or mid-sized crisis, but the big ones had a way of sneaking up on you in a manner too rapid and devastating to account for, and then suddenly, instead of acting, you’re reacting, dumping smoldering ashes into a cinerary urn. Pivoting and moving on become default states of being, simply because it feels better than dwelling, and reveling, and assigning fault.

I guess, in the most literal sense, surviving is coping.

Which is why, as my eyes adjusted to the light, that sense of acceptance disappeared. Because for once, I wasn’t too late.

Keith stood at the edge of the bluffs looking out over the ocean. Shivers radiated through his shoulders, his legs, and his core.

Someone who resembled Nick stood behind him. I say resembled, because considering that I’d known him for years, he was almost unrecognizable. A blood-red aura—reminiscent of the golden aura I’d seen him use frequently—occluded him in a red fog you had to squint to see through. His shield was still on his back, and the double-bladed sword in his hands pointed downward, sharpened tip grazing carelessly across the rocky ground.

“It’s like you don’t care.” Nick said to Keith. His voice was monotone, utterly devoid of fluctuation.

Keith shook his head, refusing to look back. Nick couldn’t see Keith’s expression. From my angle, beneath the terror and the confusion, he had the practiced tiredness of someone who was used to being routinely disheartened.

“Your life's on the line!” Nick shouted, emotion filtering in. “But you won’t fucking fight. Won’t lift a goddamn finger. And you don’t even want to know why?”

There was a sheer physicality to Nick that gave me pause. He dwarfed Keith by comparison, but at six-and-a-half feet he was taller than most of the population. It was more than that. Before, with the grimelings, there was a timidity to him. A built-in flinch that stopped him from being the absolute wrecking ball I knew he could be.

That was all but gone now.

If it came to blows, I wasn’t sure I could take him.

Need to work quickly.

I circled around them counter-clockwise, putting my back to the drop and placing myself out of reach and firmly in Nick’s peripheral.

“Maybe he’s not answering you because he’s scared shitless.” My voice was scathing. “But I’d love to know what led to this look-at-the-flowers moment. Wanna break it down for me, Nick?”

Nick didn’t start, a testament to how deep in this he was. Instead, the eyes that slowly panned to me were cold, calculating. He was sizing me up in a way he hadn’t, before. “Thought you were supposed to be in the ripple.”

I blew air out through my mouth. “And you left out summary execution on the docket today. Guess neither of us have been entirely forthcoming.”

“I have to do this.” Nick said, ignoring the prod. It sounded familiar, like he’d recited the words a thousand times before speaking them out loud.

“Really? This seems like the sort of thing you really don’t have to do.” I played up the abrasiveness of my voice, trying to shock him out of whatever state he was in. “And I’m not seeing how this factors into your goal. Was the line you fed me about wanting a better world a lie? Or are you just partially full of shit?”

He shook his head slowly. “Aaron mentioned you might be a problem. And that I could deal with you, if necessary.”

“Sure.” I nodded in mock understanding. “So, first you kill the kid—who despite his inexperience—rushed into an unbalanced pocket realm to save your goddamn life. Then you kill the witness who, not to toot my horn, actually saved your life. Then maybe Halima puts two and two together. You gonna kill her too?”

“I—”

“Admit it. Whatever this is, you’re not cut out for this shit. And you’re only considering it because someone put a metaphorical gun to your head.” I was trying to pull him back from whatever hypothetical Hastur had floated him, bring him back down to earth and ground him in reality.

But from the way Nick’s expression hardened, and he wheeled on me, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. “This is none of your fucking business. Turn around, climb back down the bluffs, and keep your mouth shut about what you saw here.”

I made a show of contemplating that blandly, as my mind raced, looking for a way to stall. “Hm. No.”

“That’s a direct order.” Nick tried again.

“Oh, is it? Didn’t realize. Unfortunately, still a no.”

His brow furrowed. “I’ve seen your mark. You’re bound by the geas, same as me. You can’t refuse a direct order.”

I shrugged, ignoring the insight. “It’s easy to imagine how you’re feeling. Trapped. Hemmed in. The cards are on the table and now that everyone’s seen them, you’ve let yourself believe that the only way out is through. But you’re wrong. There’s another option. All of this can go away.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but hesitated. His hand tightened on the hilt of the sword. “That so?”

Playing along. Not completely closed off. I have a chance here.

I held out a hand, palm up. “I’ll explain the rest in private. Just put the sword down and walk away.”

“I-I-I won’t tell anyone.” Keith mumbled, terror in his voice.

Nick studied the ground at his feet, his expression obscured in shadow and aura. When he looked up again, the tight smile on his lips set off a chorus of alarm bells. Despite the smile, Nick gripped his sword tightly, point rising slightly off the ground. “Okay.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had to not shift into a combat stance. His reaction registered as inauthentic immediately. And for good reason. It was the same damn tactic I used. Giving the appearance of coming to agreement or alliance, only to immediately—and violently—snap back on it, gaining an element of surprise.

The sunset behind Nick grew increasingly golden by the second and the red of his aura was more vibrant, less washed out than before. I had mana. Not a lot, but enough to do something. Especially if I used the artifact.

I could… command him to stand down.

This was purpose. He was lower level than me, or at the very least, within the target range. Hell, Nick himself wouldn’t even realize what happened. It would intrinsically plant the decision to spare Keith in his mind, assimilated as if that was a decision he’d made for himself. Using it was the most reasonable option. Anything else would lead to a fight I wasn’t sure I could win, and a fallout I wasn’t sure I could survive. And as a result, it would preserve the person I knew. The touch stone I needed.

Would it really, If you made the choice for him? Would you even be able to trust him? Or would that just slowly eat away at any concept of a rekindled friendship?

Just as I predicted, Nick suddenly spun, raising his sword, fully prepared to bring the blade down on Keith’s neck.