They didn't speak another word.
After catching up to Angin, the Alchemist healed Liron's hand. Angin had calmed down, but he remained silent. Liron preferred it that way. He wasn't in the mood to talk. His mind was raw, a wound whose scab was ripped off. He kept his head down, hiding his bloodshot eyes. He was too tired to cry.
Upon reaching Gabriella's house, they did little but wait for Jean and Zonis to return. Gabriella gave him space, vanishing into her garden. Angin read, leaving Liron alone. He had never seen the Alchemist so withdrawn. A fog had spread through them all, a sombering one dragging their will out of them. It hung in the air, thick, and heavy. Once engulfed, there was no escaping it. Liron could see little but his failure in it.
To distract himself, he thought about his Conduit. The assassin had cut through it. She had needed nothing but her finger. His Gate, whatever it truly was, provided him with smoke and embers. He had yet to find a use for the ember. Perhaps he could start a fire with them, or they could heat his blade, turning his sword's edge into a burning one.
No matter what angle he took, he gave up soon enough. It all felt in vain. A fruitless endeavor. Why stand from his chair and walk? Why eat, drink, and sleep? Why summon his blade in the first place? Spending the rest of his life lying in bed appeared like the only sensible option.
Every motion, be it as little as lifting a finger, was a fight in itself. His body was sluggish and unhandy, like his clothes were soaked with water, weighing him down. The drain affected his mind, too. His thoughts were empty, a veil in the wind. He could see through them, his parents' lifeless eyes staring at him, telling him one thing with them. Their parting gift for their son.
We should have gotten rid of you.
As the Silver Moon was setting, Jean and Zonis returned. They had retrieved Angin's bike and scouted Kupferrang for a good hiding spot. It had taken his time, but it should be secure for the next few days. One look at Liron and Angin, and they knew something had gone wrong. Liron lacked the strength to look up from the ground. How was he supposed to share what had happened to his parents? Angin took that burden from him, never glancing in his direction.
"My boy," Zonis breathed, walking to him. He didn't put a hand on his shoulder or come too close. He kept his distance, knowing Liron hadn't overcome his suspicion concerning him. "I'm so deeply sorry. We will give them a proper burial. They will be treated with the honor they deserve."
Jean hadn't paid any attention to his parents' fate. His attention went to the other part of what Angin had said. "Hmm. I see. Adenius wants to steer us with what we know. Interesting strategy. I don't think I have ever seen it utilized in such a way. Risky, definitely, but it could work."
"Jean," Zonis said, showing his fangs, "your behavior is not proper. Liron has lost his parents."
"We all lose people. We are at war, and…"
Zonis' unmoving eyes silenced Jean. The Homunculus buckled under it, a great pressure he couldn't bear. "I… I'm sorry for your loss, Liron."
Liron nodded, nothing but an acknowledgement. "What will we do next?"
"Liron," Zonis said, "we don't have to…"
"It's good. We need to save my sister from this bastard. I can grieve once we're safe. What else you've got?"
Zonis pursed his lips. It appeared more expressive on his mouth than a human one. "Well… I have been thinking. The wolves. I believe we can take advantage of them."
"You want to talk to them?" Angin asked. "Let me warn you, they didn't seem that peaceful. I don't think you can convince them to help us."
"Talk?" Liron asked.
Zonis smiled. "I'm a Whisperer, Liron. In Sannara, survival is not easy. The Empire and the Qyoral. Both are our enemies. The wilderness is harsh and deadlier than anything you have ever seen. That is why the Resistance has Whisperer. Our responsibility is to communicate with beasts and nature and ask them for aid. And I have yet to come across any life that is not willing to talk or hear my words. There is always a way, Angin."
The Alchemist grunted, crossing his arms. "If you say so."
"Say, Liron," Zonis said. "I wanted to sneak up to the walls and glimpse at the wolves and how many guards are protecting them. Do you want to join me? The night air is refreshing in Kupferrang. It might help you to clear your head."
Liron rubbed his temples. "Sure," he said. What else was he to do?
…
The air was indeed refreshing. The noises weren't, though.
Liron looked down at the streets, filled with people. They were under the effect of the Bliss, stronger than ever before. They danced, sang in perfect unison, and praised Harras. Liron caught glimpses of some folk getting rather close, vanishing in a dark alley for some privacy. Lamps light the streets, glowing in all kinds of colors. A fever had spread through Kupferrang. One that the people could only rid themselves of by howling into the night, celebrating like there was no tomorrow.
Despite the euphoria the people shared, a tension surrounded the whole ordeal. It built up with each excess. Instead of finding release, it kept boiling. Towards what end, Liron didn't know. And he would prefer not to witness it.
Zonis joined him. They stood on a roof, jumping from house to house. The buildings were positioned closely enough to make it an easy leap. The first one had Liron railing, but he had adjusted.
"Adenius is preparing for a Raven Hunt," Zonis said. He didn't wear his mask. At night, a hood would do the job. "He is driving them mad. Let's go."
Zonis moved with decades of experience guiding his every step, navigating Kupferrang's skyline as if he had been born here. He never left Liron behind, slowing down to ensure he could keep up.
"Tuck your knees in when you jump. Keep a good eye on all light sources. Always stay in the shadows. If you can't, change your surroundings to change them. You won't find a better friend than them."
Zonis offered Liron advice where he could. Never condescending. His tone was gentle, offering a hand to push him forward. Should he falter, he would be there. Liron knew that. He felt it with every passing second. The Silver Moon would spit out the sun before Zonis would act like Liron had thought he would. The fangs didn't make it easy to trust, but the Qilesh grew on him.
As they traveled to the walls, stopping on several occasions to not be noticed, Zonis asked Liron simple questions.
"Angin said you worked in a forge. Tell me about it.
"You are Everon's chosen. Have you dreamed of becoming a Knight Dracon?
"I know Jean can be difficult. What annoys you most about him? Don't worry, I will be silent as a mountain. A bit of lighthearted gossip can do some good."
Zonis' questions never forced an answer out of Liron. He never interrogated him. The Qilesh invited him to speak. To share what was on his mind. It was easy to do that around Zonis. He should have been more suspicious of him, but Liron struggled not to trust him. At times like this, a friendly face was a rare blessing that couldn't be denied. Even if it did look as if it would eat his skin.
"Zonis, did you grow up in the… Qy…"
"The Qyoral? No. You see, my ancestors refused to become a part of their empire as it formed. They saw what was on the horizon. Cyrar created us to destroy and devour. My ancestors disagreed. They knew we could be more than this.
"My people, we call ourselves Phirans. It means listener. We listen to all life. Dancing our bodies is not something that should be used to harm and destroy. It allows us to communicate with all. We are the bridge between lives. We can never become a human, a wolf, or a bird, but we can get close. Close enough to understand."
"Are all Whisperer also Phi… Phirans?"
"Not always. Many humans have learned the art of reading nature and understanding its rhythm. But the best Whisperers are always Phirans. But many of my people did not join the Resistance. They regard it as… wrong. We all believe that the Qyroral uses our abilities for the wrong things. But we disagree about what we should do against it. Some think all violence should be forbidden. How are we supposed to understand if we end life?"
"And you don't agree with that?"
Zonis looked down. His eyes changed. A rare moment of them expressing something. Something sad and tired. "I want a peaceful world, Liron. One where there will be no need for blades and war. However, I'm no fool. We don't live in such a world. As long as the Empire and Qyroral exist, there will never be peace.
"I don't just work as a Whisperer. There will be a peaceful world, but not without shedding blood beforehand."
Comforting words. As long as it wouldn't be Liron's blood.
They heard the howling long before reaching the walls. The masses drowned it in their feverish screams, but Liron noticed it throughout the noise. Praise for the Silver Moon, praying to the celestial god for its blessing. They would dedicate Liron's death to it.
Zonis steered them as close as they could get. Dozens of soldiers fired bows at the wolves. The beast dashed forward, taking the arrows as they attacked the walls, hunting down weak spots to exploit. Neither side invested heavily in their skirmishes. They couldn't afford losses. Kupferrang should have had better defenses, but they didn't use them. It made sense. They knew Liron and the Resistance to be here. They would need all they could use during the execution. Using their greater weaponry beforehand put them at risk of being destroyed by Liron and his allies.
Zonis shifted his face, mimicking the beast's snout. While he couldn't change his mouth and eyes, he grew additional eyes, appearing like a furless wolf. An eerie sight. Zonis' gills twitched as he listened. He changed back to his usual self, transforming within seconds.
"They despise you," Zonis said. "They won't stop until you are dead."
"I guessed so," Liron said.
"I know this is nothing you want to hear, but we can make use of that, Liron. Even if we don't find common ground, a raging eye is a blind one. We can trick them to…"
As if the mention of eyes tickled the beast, the wolf Liron had wounded stared in their direction. He sniffed with his nose, bearing his fangs. A clear message. Zonis' translation was obsolete.
Zonis cringed, his mouth moving in several smaller ways, highlighting his discomfort. "Well, I've heard about their temper, but wolves… are worse than I thought. Let's go, Liron. We should turn back. It isn't safe here."
Liron nodded, watching the soldiers at the walls. He hoped they were bad people. Their death would be an easy thing to carry then. But he would never know. As with the seventeen Alchemists killed because of him, lives lost in the pursuit. A waste.
Zonis moved slower than before. The Qilesh appeared lost in thought, pausing often. As they landed on a wide roof, equipped with chairs to watch the city from, he stopped. "Liron, let's take a break."
Liron frowned. "What?"
Zonis stretched, his body bending in ways that should break bones. "Yes, I'm not as young as you anymore. Come. I want to watch the stars."
A lie. An obvious one.
Liron sighed, taking a seat next to Zonis. With little to do, he gazed up at the stars. A beautiful thing to behold, but he had become blind to what once brought him moments of joy. The night sky, a sight to reach for, became hollow. As all things around him. Bereft of meaning, even the wolf's fangs turned into an empty husk. Nothing inside. Liron just floated over it all, seeing it but failing to comprehend. He understood his surroundings, but he felt no connection. A thin string kept him attached, moments away from tearing. Once without it, he would hover away, ascending to somewhere else. Somewhere from which there was no return. Where there was nothing. What difference would there be between him and a Sinner by then? Between him and his parents?
"What do you people think happens after we die?" Liron asked. As he wouldn't be accepted by Harras, he should hope there was some other place to go if… no, when they got him.
Zonis sighed. "Well… that's complicated. We Phirans believe in different religions. Some think we will become one with Ekon after we have proven our purity. Others believe there is nothing waiting for us. But most of us are practical. Most of us, including me, believe we will return to Cyrar. It has birthed us and will never let us go. If there is anything beyond this world, Cyrar will keep us from reaching it. We have yet a duty to fulfill. I don't like thinking about it. It's sad. The Final Fate will come to us all. Why waste any precious moment we have on it?"
"The Final Fate? What's that?"
Zonis smiled, reminiscing about simpler times. "It is from a fairy tale we tell our children. You see, when the stars were young, Cyrar traveled through the long dark. It was outcast by them and searched for a place to call home. Somewhere where it would be accepted. It journeyed from world to world, hoping to find the right one, but it was never satisfied.
"'Too big. Too old. Too weak.' For years, Cyrar searched. It was losing hope until it had an idea. If it couldn't find itself the right world, it would create itself one. With a new goal, Cyrar ate and ate as much as it could, birthing a smaller moon. It loved it fully, but Cyrar had a problem."
Zonis paused, the stars' shine reflecting in the blue of his eyes. An endless surge of light. "Cyrar had believed itself better than the stars, but it hadn't learned. All this time, failing to find a home had made Cyrar bitter. As the stars had done with it, it wanted to control the smaller moon. It never asked it once, 'What do you want to be?'
"No, Cyrar had decided what the smaller moon ought to be. And so, it ran away, fleeing from Cyrar, searching for a home. Someplace to be accepted. But Cyrar didn't want to let it go. It hunted after the smaller moon. In its fear and want to flee, the moon flew too close to a star. It devoured the smaller moon whole. Cyrar was left to watch as the star laughed at it. Its brethren joined in. 'Foolish Cyrar,'" they said. 'You won't escape us. You will be ours for all time.'"
"Cyrar begged and begged. 'All but this. Please, show mercy.' The stars pitied Cyrar and offered it a gift. The Final Fate. 'We will allow you your freedom. Travel and see as much as you want. Make all worlds your own. But know this. All your creations, all that you have given life to, will come to ruin. As will you. This is our gift.' The Final Fate of all things is to end."
Liron scratched his chin. He wasn't as detached as he had feared. That story had an effect on him. "That was… you tell your children that?"
"Not before they go to sleep. It's a sad one. But it has its purpose. What do you think it means?"
"Ehr… you and your people talk about understanding everything, right? So… this would include the Silver Moon. This story makes it… sad. You're supposed to feel pity for it. And it warns you that you can't outrun your problems."
Zonis nodded. "Yes, I think so, too. When I was little, it made me realize that nothing lasts forever. Even Cyrar's rule. The Empire and Qyoral will come to an end. This is their fate. It's comforting."
"Where does the Silver Moon come from? Do you know?"
"No. Not even Xeras does. I don't think there is a single soul that has any idea. Even to us, Cyrar is… strange. It never speaks to us. It never gives us orders or tells us how to live. The Qyoral says that it does all in its name, but I don't think that's true. They just claim they have to do all of this. Perhaps Cyrar spoke with our ancestors, but who knows."
"Fu… ehr, I mean… it's good to know we aren't the only ones with a silent god."
Zonis laughed at that, an earnest one, filled with life. "There is some solace in that."
Minutes passed, the stars unmoving. Liron wondered what their laugh would sound like. Based on the story, he imagined it to sound wicked.
Zonis glanced at Liron. "My boy, I can't imagine what you are going through, but I want you to know… it's not your fault."
Liron grunted. "Thanks, but it is. If I hadn't been around, my parents wouldn't be puppets to that cunt. Sorry."
"You didn't do that to your parents. It was Adenius. It is not your fault."
"I didn't turn my parents, yeah, but I did get born. I mean, think about it. That vision alone… how many people died because of what we saw? Did you see it?"
Zonis shook his head. "No Qilesh I know of did."
"Interesting… but you know what I mean. The Resistance has lost how many people? And how many did they kill? Jean said I'm a symbol against the Empire. I'm proof they are not undefeatable. But all of those people died for me. Quite the shitty deal if you ask me."
"I understand what you are saying. But Liron, blaming yourself for everything that has happened… do not take it as an insult, but it is arrogant."
Liron blinked. "Wh… what do you mean?"
"Well, it's easier to blame yourself for your parent's fate and all the death after the vision. If it was your fault, you had control over it. You could have done something differently. Your failure has caused all this suffering. But it was your doing. Your action had an impact. The sad reality is that it has nothing to do with you.
"There is nothing worse than to realize there is nothing guiding you. No piece of existence will point you onto the correct path. One where you will not suffer. Where you will brighten the lives of others. Your actions are yours. As are their consequences. But often bad things happen for reasons we can't understand. At best, it appears as utter coincidence. This world is bigger than all of us. And you are at the mercy of its whims more often than you will want to. I would prefer to consider it all my fault, but it's a fool's errand, my boy."
Liron turned away. Zonis' words rang true. The blame hurt, piercing deep into him with thorns born from his guilt. But he wanted to embrace it. It gave him some hold. What was he without it?
"You know what, I have an idea," Zonis said, standing up.
He turned his mouth into a bird's beak, singing into the night. Perfectly done. No difference between him and the sounds of nature. Despite the chaos raging below them, Zonis' song reached willing ears. From beyond the dark, birds came flying towards the Qilesh. They were the same as the one Gabriella had turned into a Conduit.
Zonis and the birds exchanged a few whistles, and they landed on his arms. He petted the bird, and it responded with a joyful tune. Zonis waved Liron closer. "Come on, my boy. Come closer."
Liron did so. "Hold out your arm," Zonis said.
The Qilesh sang to the bird, and without hesitation it jumped onto Liron's arm. It studied him for a moment, looking at him from different angles. Whatever it saw in him, it liked it. It wiggled around, fluttering with its wings. The other birds flew around Liron, singing in unison.
Zonis chuckled. "They like you. Animals are great judges of one's character. Come on, pet it."
Slowly, Liron stroked the bird's feathers. It rubbed its head against his fingers, eager for his touch. Liron laughed at that.
"See, my boy, that bird is now better off thanks to you. Without you, he wouldn't have been petted."
"That's not true. You would have petted him."
"You don't know that. I wouldn't have called them without you. Our little friend might have never experienced what it's like to be petted. Now he knows. Thanks to you."
The remaining birds landed all over Liron. His shoulder, head, and other arm. All danced in excitement, rubbing against him. Liron couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like this. Even before the vision.
Zonis smiled. "You have made the world a better place, Liron," he said, running his hands over one bird's head. "Sometimes it can be that simple. Just remember that. It's the small things that can make a change. And if they don't, we all have to start somewhere. Never forget. This is what hands are made for."