“What?”
“How many times have you explained all this to me?”
“I don’t know what you’re asking.” The lie was so obvious Vi had to bite back bitter laughter.
“Yes you do. I know you too well, Taavin; I see behind any mask you try to wear.” She swallowed, her throat drier than the Waste. “This isn’t the first time I’ve asked, is it?” Taavin pursed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. “How many times, Taavin?” she reiterated. And then, just to twist the dagger, added, “How many times have you died by my hand? Has the world been rebuilt? How many times have we tried and failed to stop Raspian? How manyother Visfailed?”
She didn’t know why she was asking. She’d already figured out the answer.
“Ninety-three.”
Somehow, hearing it from his lips was worse than she expected.
Vi’s fingers slowly uncurled from the man’s garb. She smoothed out the wrinkles thoughtfully, almost gently. The motion was a stark contrast to the torrent of anger brewing within her. Abruptly, she went to the narrow window. It was her only source of fresh air and she desperately needed to take a breath.
“Ninety-three times,” she finally repeated quietly. The world had been destroyed, rebuilt, destroyed again, over and over, ninety-three times. It was incomprehensible to her.
Mortal minds weren’t made for this.
Vi stared at the stone wall outside of the window, willing the wind to blow, to feel some movement in the air. But everything was stagnant, making a hot day only hotter.
“What makes you think we can do this now?” Vi asked without looking at him.
“Nothing.” That drew her eyes back. Taavin elaborated without further prompting. “I don’t know if we will be successful this time, or the next, or the time after. But I have faith eventually we will. I have to, otherwise we are trapped in this torturous vortex forever, always spinning, down and down.”
They were cursed. She’d known it on Meru. He’d confirmed it now.
“How long have you known this was our fate?”
“Only when you used the wordthrumsana. It unlocked the stored memories from my past selves in the watch, returning them to me. Then, I knew what must be done to finish the turn and start anew.”
Vi narrowed her eyes slightly. She vividly remembered the power that had been unleashed when she used that word. Just as vividly, she remembered learning not long before that Taavin had betrayed Vi and her father to the Swords of Light. That wound had yet to be mended, and now Vi wondered if they’d ever have the chance. Did she have any right to still be angry with him for a father that no longer existed?
The thought made her throat close up.
He had betrayed her. She had killed him. Perhaps it was better to destroy the hurt of those transgressions with the world she’d known.
Mother above, her head ached.
“What do we do now?” Vi forced herself to ask.
“We need to be careful going forward.” Taavin crossed to her side. “Very careful, for a number of years. Until you ensure Vhalla receives the watch, the birth of a new Vi—a new Champion—isn’t guaranteed. Which means if you die… it ends for good.”
“Itwillend for good.”Ninety-three times. That was ninety-two too many. “We will end it, this time.” Vi turned to him.
Taavin placed his hand at the small of her back, staring down with worried eyes. He wasn’t as warm, she realized. Little things kept adding up that made his presence here torture. He wasn’t really with her any longer.Not really.
“I told you once: I look back, you look forward. This is the curse you always felt, but never fully knew. You’re forced to see the end of the world encroaching, and you feel an obligation to try, futilely thus far, to prevent it. Whereas I…” He swallowed hard. “I remember the past. I exist to watch and be a living record of your every action. To serve as your aide in finding what will succeed by ensuring you don’t repeat what failed. I remember every time you’ve fallen and every hurt you’ve endured. And the only thing that enables me to carry on is the knowledge that someday, I will see you again.”
Or some version of me, Vi wanted to say, but couldn’t. The truth, even though they both knew it, was too cruel to speak aloud. If what he was saying was true, every Vi was a unique person that lived, fought, and ultimately perished underneath the wheel of time.
“So you must be careful, until Vhalla Solaris gives birth to a Vi Solaris in this age.” Vi gave a small nod. She was too tired to fight. Taavin must’ve sensed as much. “You should get some rest. Norin will fall soon, and you’ll want to be nimble to try to get close to Fiera and the sword when it does.”
Vi grabbed his bicep before he could pull away. Her grip tightened, trying to press through the thin barrier of magic that kept him from her. “I want you to stay,” she whispered. Pain flashed across his face.
“I wish I could. But you know how this works.” He leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now, rest.”
With that, he vanished; the glyphs above her watch dimmed and faded, and the room seemed darker and lonelier than ever before.
