Jesstin surprised himself by laughing too. “Fortunately for all of you, it was convenient to my main objective.” He gave Elloven a squeeze. “You know, I’ve had some time to think, sitting here.”
“Excuse me while I go warn the others.”
Jesstin ignored his sarcasm. “I was thinking... What happens when someone else decides to curse this place and closes the door again?”
“Because of you, now we know it can be reopened. There will be more like you.” Mon leaned against the rock and watched the sky with Jesstin. “I’d only ever heard the warnings about this place. Never imagined I’d be standing inside the spiral.”
“When I see signs telling me to keep out, it only makes me want to go in more.”
Mon grinned. “What will you do next?”
“Save her.” Jesstin nodded at Elloven.
“I pray you do. But after?”
Jesstin shrugged. “Not given it too much thought.”
“Your life won’t be as you left it.”
“What a revelation, Edmond.”
“Don’t you see this means you can begin anew, choose whatever life you fancy? Why, you could be a baker... or a farmer!”
Jesstin chortled. “Anyone foolish enough to eat anything I’ve grown or cooked deserves their fate.”
Mon sighed. “At least they’ll be able to move on when they die.”
Jesstin rolled his head to look at Mon. “Why are you still here?”
“Am I so offensive?”
“I’d already be on the other side, lapping at the afterlife like a feral dog.”
“Now that’s an image,” Mon said. “I came to thank you and offer one last piece of wisdom, if you’ll hear it.”
“I’ll hear it. Can’t promise to heed it.”
“The fate of all wisdom.” Mon kneaded his palms over his bent knees. “Don’t wait for everyone to leave. It’ll take longer than you think, and you can’t know how time has passed for you in your world. Every moment you sit here is a moment wasted. You’ve upheld your promise. There’s nothing left to do. Go home.”
“Ryquin,” Jesstin said. “I walk out my door, he can walk in. I’ll make sure he finds the place empty when he does.”
“He cannot close our door. As long as you leave it open?—”
“It wasn’t me, Mon. It was this.” Jesstin tugged at the cursed stolen flame, still hanging around his neck. “The Conductor. Architect. Overseer. I don’t know what you call the fucking soulless fiend, but it was its magic that opened your door. Not mine.”
Mon leaned in and frowned at the amulet. “No, I think you’re wrong. It was both.” He looked up with a stunned expression. “You figured that out.”
“Got dropkicked into it is more like,” Jesstin murmured.
“You are ill-practiced at receiving gratitude,” Mon said in a snooty tone. “This means if you leave this place, with the flame, you take with you the two things that opened the door. Without both, the door cannot close. Ryquin can do nothing about it.”
Jesstin tilted his head back and sighed.
“I offered my piece. You’ll do as you will.” Mon patted Jesstin’s leg. “Be kind to yourself, Jesstin Skylark.” He held out his hand, and Jesstin halfheartedly shook it. “We are all comprised of sin but also promise. Dare I say hope? Whatever you’ve done, whatever you will do, no one else in all the worlds can say they offered the dead freedom from purgatory.”
There didn’t seem to be an appropriate response, so Jesstin said nothing.
“I’ll be getting on then.” Mon stood and clapped his hands twice. “I don’t know what Ryquin put in your ear about resurrecting this girl, and I don’t know if you can, but even with all you’ve done here, your necromancy is still mostly untapped. People spend their lives training in magics not half as complicated, and you’ve never given yours more than a passing thought. I believe you’ll get one chance to get this right. If you try to save more, you’ll risk saving none. Make your peace with that before you go through the door and don’t spare a worry for the rest of us. I’d rather be going through my door than yours.” He tipped a nod. “Until we meet again in a better place.”
