Page 61 of The Truth

“Believe me, Alvira. Just believe me!”

“Eltoar, that will not stand up to the council.”

“Fuck the gods damned council!” The rage jolted into Eltoar like a bolt of lightning, his fists tensing, his blood thrashing in his ears, Helios roaring in his mind. He latched his hand onto the back of his head, trying to calm the anger within him. “Can you not see that the council is the problem?”

“What do you want from me, Eltoar? I am the Archon of the Draleid. My purpose is to serve the people of Epheria, and part of that is listening to the council, listening to the voices of those same people that we are to protect. Again, and again, and again, year after year we have had this same argument, and again the answer remains – we cannot just force our will on the world. We must listen as well as act. I cannot just accuse the council of treachery because you say so, because of letters from a century ago when all but one member of that council are either dead or no longer upon it. Letters which we cannot verify as truth. Eltoar, I cannot burn everything to the ground on so little.” She clenched her jaw, cupping her face in her hands. “We sit on this wheel, and we spin, and we spin, and nothing ever changes.” She turned away from him, her head shaking. “You told Farda that we knew of Orinhale before it happened – why did you do that? He hasn’t spoken to me since that day.”

“Because we did!”

“We didn’t know Hana and Valyianne were there, Eltoar. We didn’t know.”

“Can you not see that doesn’t matter?” Eltoar narrowed his gaze, searching Alvira’s eyes.

“But what good did it do, Eltoar? What solace did it bring anyone but yourself to tell Farda we knew? You didn’t tell him for his sake, you told him to free yourself of the weight of it. I would have told him of the council and Orinhale when he had returned… but then Hana and Valyianne…” Alvira twisted that ring she had taken to wearing, turning it like a screw around her finger. “Perhaps I was wrong to still hold it. But it would have brought him nothing but more darkness.”

“Maybe so,” Eltoar admitted. “And maybe I did tell him because my soul was weary from holding the knowledge. But the fact remains that we let those people burn. They died, Alvira. Forty thousand souls. We could have saved them, and we chose not to. It was the very same at Vastillion, but the Alvira I knew then refused to listen to her Archon, refused to listen to me. You were fire incarnate. There was nothing in this world that would have stopped you from mounting Vyldrar and doing everything you could to save the city. What happened to that Alvira? To the Alvira who pushed and challenged and stood when everything around her bid her kneel? Where is that Alvira?”

To Eltoar’s surprise, Alvira didn’t rage against him. A tear welled in her eye as she spoke. “She was too naive for this world. She is buried with Maquil.” Alvira shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what you said to the council. I killed Maquil that day. My actions. My recklessness… I took him from you, and I am sorry. That version of me was selfish and idiotic. My head was filled with songs of heroes. I didn’t listen to you then, and Maquil paid the price.”

“Then listen to me now.”

“I am listening. If Thalumas was involved in Vastillion, he will be tried. He will be brought to justice along with every damn member of the council. I swear it. But I need something. Please. All Fane wants is chaos. We can fix what is broken, we can heal the wounds. If we do nothing, nothing changes. But we must do it the right way or else everything falls apart. We must bring undisputable evidence to our brothers and sisters, so that nothing can be turned upon us.”

“And what of the council as it is now, Alvira? How will they answer for their crimes? It was not just Loik Hass and the others so long ago… The Lyonin War was a war for gold and for power. And we just… we bent our knees, and we obeyed.”

“We can change it, Eltoar.” Alvira clasped Eltoar’s forearms. “Everything is a balance. But together, we can make this right. We can ensure that things like Lyona do not happen again. I… I have not been strong enough with the council. I will be stronger. We will be stronger.”

“It’s too late, Alvira.”

She looked up at him, those eyes peering into his soul. “It’s never too late. I am sorry for Maquil, and for everything. We can make it right. It will take time, but we can make it right.”

Alvira wrapped her arms around him and he around her. And for a brief moment Eltoar could lie to himself. He could believe Alvira was right, that they could fix things.

But in his heart as he stood there, he finally realised that Fane’s understanding of things was the truth. Alvira would never see the other side. She would never see that the rot had gone too deep, that the council would not yield their power.

And even if she did, she could never do what needed to be done. She would not sacrifice her honour for the sake of the world. She would die for it, refusing to see the world for what it was. And while she did, more innocent souls would burn because she was too afraid to do what was needed. She was too afraid to make a mistake. There would be more Orinhales, more Vastillions, more Lyonas. Eltoar could not let that happen.

He would not lie to himself as she did. He would see the truth for what it was. For anything that was desired in life, a cost need always be paid. And there were only ever two choices: will you pay the cost yourself or will you allow another to pay it for you?

Eltoar was done letting others pay the cost.

I will be your sacrifice. I will stand for the dead.

Fane found Eltoar precisely where he thought he would: standing before the statue of Varahír once more. Though thankfully this time not in the middle of a storm.

Helios lay behind him, his enormous black head resting on the earth, those crimson eyes open and watching.

Fane stepped up beside his friend, looking over the gargantuan statue. He didn’t speak. There was no point. Eltoar would tell him what had happened with Alvira, and it was better to let him do so in his own time.

The elf drew in a long breath of autumn air. “You were right. Alvira…” He let a short sigh out from his nostrils. “Even with the letters before her, even though I truly think that she believed me… even then, she still clung to the idea that everything can simply be fixed by time and perseverance. But time will not breathe life back into Maquil’s lungs. Time will not let Orinhale rise from the ashes. And while we wait, while we sit on our hands, more people will suffer. It has all gone too far. Epheria needs change, or the innocent will continue to die while thanking the gods for what little they have. And the gods will answer no prayers because they do not listen…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “They do not listen.”

“I’m sorry, my friend. I know what it would have meant for you to have her at your side.” Fane meant what he said. In his heart, he had hoped that in some strange twist of events, Eltoar would prove him wrong. That Alvira might see the truth in front of her. Everything to come would have been easier if that were the case. Eltoar was right, perhaps it could have avoided bloodshed all together. Though, that would have been unlikely. Alas, that was not the path. And once more, what Amatkai had shown him held true. There was no avoiding what was to come. “Where is your heart now?”

“I am ready. I do not want it, I do not take pleasure in it, but I will do what must be done. Just promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“We must spare as many lives as possible, must bring as many to our side as we can. I…” Eltoar’s mouth hung open. “We… Those who fight for the council are still my kin. They are still Draleid, they still want for the best of things.”