1 Ravalor  I

16.12.2023

In the depth of the cave the darkness was thick and oppressive. It pressed in on all sides, eager to claim any who dared to enter this forgotten place. The air was heavy and damp with the scent of age and decay, speaking of centuries of isolation and the unforgiving neglect of nature.

Within this endless darkness stood thousands upon thousands of stalagmites, fed endlessly by their counterparts that lined the ceiling. Silent sentinels, twisted and gnarled by the passing of aeons, only making themselves known by the low and constant dripping from the tips of the stalactites. Each drop echoing through the cave, an never-ending and unpredictable symphony of desolation. The water that dripped down had carved its own path through the rocky terrain, etching out channels and crevices that grew deeper and deeper with each passing century.

It was a place that spoke of no future, where even the smallest glimmer of light died long before it could have reached the Stargazer.

How long had he been here? It didn’t really matter, nothing did anymore. It couldn’t have been too long … but his exhausted mind failed to remember. In the beginning, he had still tried counting the seconds, minutes, hours, then days — now he just tried not to think about anything. He found comfort in it.

A cold drop of water dripped on his shoulder. Another on his neck. The cave wall was still cold against his back. There was still the pinning pain radiating from his legs — at least where they still existed. It was the only thing that still felt real. At least sometimes.

He was already drenched to the bones, had been for a long time, his body unmoving and freezing cold, his legs were radiating pain into his awareness whenever he didn’t ignore it, only his immortal heart was still beating slow and warm inside of him, keeping him stoically alive till time itself would end if it had to.

At times he had forgotten where he was. At times he had forgotten that he was.

In rare moments like these, he became aware again, felt his existence, heard the silence within him and the aching of his weakened body.

Ravalor, the whole wizard he used to be, had never been in much need of company. He had always thought to be most comfortable alone.

But he had been wrong. Terribly wrong.

Even at his most secluded, he had never been truly alone.

The song of dripping water echoed hollowly in the cave.

The Stargazer shuddered, not by the cold, but the strangling feeling gripping his heart and mind. In moments like these, he wished he could find solace in the catharsis humans found in crying. But he couldn’t. He was just here, drowning in desolation, yearning for someone, anyone to talk to. He was lonely. And the drops of water that ran down his chin were just the water dripping from above.

He missed himself like he wouldn’t have believed possible. Not after all he had done.

And he wondered if the others felt it, too. If his absence was as much a burden to them as it was for him. And he was sorry, so terribly sorry.

He had turned his back on them, shut them out to leave and never turn back anymore. Just to find out that he could run, but he would never be able to leave himself behind. He was as much part of who Ravalor was as the others had been. Just because they weren’t here now, didn’t make it less true or painful.

A wizard could take a multitude of forms throughout their existence, but each of them was carefully considered. Till the scholar — the one they had called the Hermit when last he had been with them — had died the first time, he hadn’t really understood why. When first then he had learned that each expansion of their minds was a path with no way back. His absence had been grating on his nerves, missing that part of him to make him whole again.

He felt that now again. And he had chosen to do so. He had put this burden on himself. On all of him.

That terrible shudder went over his skin again.

He just wanted to go home.

But he couldn’t. Not after what he had done.

His heart burned, his lungs were tight, strangling him at the base of his throat.

There was only the low dripping of water around him.

Then suddenly something more.

And his heart almost stopped.

Distant a low echo found a way through the caverns. Not the sound of seismic shifting nor that of rocks yielding to time and erosion. It was a regular tap, multiplied a hundred times though distant and quiet. A low crunching sound of rocks under heels.

Ravalor stared in the absolute darkness surrounding him. The sound became so loud to his ears which had turned sensitive by an eternity of silence. A panic rose in his chest, the urge to raise, to create a portal and flee before whoever approached could find him. Before anyone could find him. And bring him back. Back to where he desperately wanted to go.

But he didn’t move at all. Couldn’t. His legs were no longer working, and even if he could have moved, he had no energy left for a portal….

At first, the faint shine was almost invisible to him, as if the image of absolute darkness had burned itself into his vision. But it was there and grew stronger as did the sound accompanying it.

A shudder tingled up his skin. For the first time in a long time, he heavily raised his arms, barely noticing it, nor the aching of his stiff body as he wiped the water off his face, mesmerised by the growing light.

The shadow that appeared in its shine was that of a man.

Ravalor felt his own breath, flat and staggering, his thoughts were nothing but an incoherent mess. The figure approached slowly. Looking against the light, his delirious mind could not make out the face. But he didn’t have to. Subconsciously he shook his head ever so slightly, not believing his eyes as the pain in his heart grew a thousandfold. Because for a moment he was afraid. He tried to say something — but his voice failed him. His vision flickered before his eyes as his exhausted mind and body tried to react but had no energy left to do so.

He heard his name spoken. In alarm and worry.

In his flickering vision he saw hands, covered in elegant but sturdy dark gloves, there was some form of embroidery on it but he couldn’t make out what it was.

The hands touched his leg, he twitched helplessly back, trying to get away from the touch, but at the same time, in the cold magical light it was like Ravalor for the first time saw the real extent of the damages the explosion of the spire and rift space had inflicted upon his own body. Scorched up to his tights, his right leg was still a burned dark mess, the left one was almost completely gone below the knee, leaving only the sturdy skeletal support structure where artificial flash and magic had been ripped away.

His head slightly rolled as he barely managed to keep it upright, and so he leaned it back against the cold wall. Water dripped on his forehead.

In the flickering images of his vision he looked into black eyes, heard words spoken. Then a touch on his head, his neck, stabilising him.

Something touched his lips, then the faint taste of silver flooded his mind, setting his mind aflame as his body rejoiced at the mere taste of it.

The mana was warmer than his own body had become and he felt it spread into his body.

“You’re going to be alright.“

Doubtful.

His eyelids fluttered. And then the light vanished, and everything turned into void.

*

The Stargazer opened his eyes to the aching of his body. But it was a different kind of pain. A healing kind.

He noticed the lack of water dripping onto his body. The cold magical light had settled on the ground, its shine had turned warmer and softer.

And in its light, sat another wizard with him, watching him wake up quietly.

“You’re alive…” the Stargazer whispered, or maybe he did, he barely heard himself, his voice was no more than a raspy gasp in the back of his throat. He hadn’t spoken for too long.

“I think you knew that,” Zenozarax said, almost sighing. Sitting in front of Ravalor now, looking at him, a sense of pity in the black eyes. Besides them the magical light rested calmly on the ground, painting the cold cave into a diffuse warm shine.

“I guess I did.”

By that answer a slim smile appeared on the wizard’s face. But Ravalor couldn’t remember to have seen him ever looking this sad.

“I know what happened,” Zenozarax said calmly. “I expected you to return to Mezchinhar. But when you didn’t… I knew I had to find you.“

“Why? Do you think because I left them, I will join you?”

The smile of the old wizard didn’t falter for even a second, but the sadness in it that only grew. “I don’t think that would be particularly wise of me, even when my heart wants it to be true. You have turned bitter. You’re suffering, I know you are, now more so than ever. And as your former teacher - and arguably the cause for most of your sorrows, I felt a certain responsibility to at least find you.” There was a stiffness to his words. A sense of uncertainty. But what else could there be after all that had happened.

“Responsibility,” Ravalor scoffed, trying to straighten up a bit. Now with the mana doing the lords’ work within his body, he actually found the strength for it. Moving against the cold of the wall now felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable. “After all you did, I doubt that.”

Zenozarax for the first time, even if only briefly, averted his eyes. For a moment his expression was unreadable to Ravalor — before he realised it was guilt.

What happened to you? … to us?  The question lay on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

When Zenozarax spoke again his words were surprisingly bitter. “Do you really find it so hard to believe that I still care for your well being?“

Ravalor slightly shook his head, but said, “How did you even find me?” his throat hurt, speaking was painful, and yet he feared should he fall silent now, Zenozarax would just leave. While he didn’t want the chaos wizard to be here, while he was terrified by the fact that he had found him, he feared the loneliness more now that he found a brief moment of rest from it.

Zenozarax frowned slightly, thoughtfully. “I think you wanted someone to find you. But nobody but me will.”

“I—” Ravalor stared at him, he felt like finally really realising that it was Zenozarax sitting truly before him now and yet he still couldn’t believe it. Nor his words. “What do you mean?“

“After what happened on that earth, after what you and Pelagius did, you, this part of you, is not hidden from me. His curse saw you too, you are connected to me now more than ever before. But you are free. I don’t have the Knife and even if, you’d be in no danger from me.” Zenozarax leaned forward and carefully took Ravalor’s hand who first violently flinched back. Like too many wizards he knew of the dangers another wizard’s touch could bear, and especially when that other wizard was a chaos wizard. As it was one of the few very effective ways to end a wizard’s existence by a simple touch filled with an overcharge of magic. But as Zenozarax reached out and took his hands a second time, Ravalor just let him. A calm acceptance that if Zenozarax would mean his death now, he wouldn’t fight it. Maybe it would be a welcome end to his suffering. Something he couldn’t bring himself to do.

To just… forget.

Zenozarax’ hands, even through the gloves, were warm around his freezing skin.

“You’re hurting Ravalor. I know. What the circle has done to you, what I have done to you, and now what you have done to yourself — you wanted to be found. You want someone to make this all go away. You know I know what you feel. The betrayal, the pain and the loneliness. I had been alone for a long time, too.“

Ravalor just listened to his former friend and for the first time he did realise that indeed, Zenozarax’ decision to not have his Warrior rebuild after he had lost him at Funnix suddenly seemed even more puzzling than before. Or maybe not really.

“You were afraid of what you had done…“

“I was afraid of a lot of things after Funnix,” Zenozarax just slightly tilted his head, not taking his eyes from their hands. “But I know I felt his absence every hour of every day. And let me tell you Ravalor, it won’t become easier. You will never forget them.”

The terrible truth hung in the cold silence, a fact Ravalor knew was no lie, because he felt it. And the wizard he could blame all of this on, right in front of him.

“Why did you even return? Why didn’t you stay away? They thought you were dead!” his voice cracked, finally granted the chance again to hurl his desperation at the wizard he once would have died for. For whom, or maybe, because of whom he had died. “You were free of it all…”

“I thought I was. But it was never true,” Zenozarax said downright grim. “A lot has happened since we have parted. A lot that I regret, too. I fought for our freedom, and failed. But one day I’ll make it true, and Mezchinhar will fall silent forever. First then, I’ll be free. We all will be.“

For a while there was only the constant dripping of water. Then Ravalor said quietly, “You truly believe that?“

“I do.“

“Why must all pay for what a few did?“

“Because it’s the entire Order, I’d want to burn the lords themselves if only they hadn’t left us already to our own devices. I have lived on both sides now and it’s all rotten and wrong. Nothing of all of this should ever have happened.” And for the first time since he had arrived, the hate and anger that had only grown over centuries seeped plainly through his words, the sheer disgust and need to purge this vile wrongness from the multiverse. A dangerous gleam fueled Zenozarax’ eyes as he now looked at him and Ravalor became worryingly aware again that his hand was still held by the chaos wizard. Aware that these could be the last seconds of his existence. But the words Zenozarax said next were more painful than death.

“You know I’m right. It’s the reason you’re here now isn’t it? You couldn’t stand it any longer. Are you aware, Ravalor, that you have killed more lives in the last two years than I have in the last two thousand? By quite a margin. Isn’t it so?“

Ravalor couldn’t answer.

“Did you even hesitate once? I don’t think you did. Because you’re a good wizard. You’d never let collateral damage keep you from their goal. Because that’s what Mezchinhar expects from you. From all of us.“

“It had to be done…” he said weakly. He had tried to believe it.

“I know. I forced your hand. And yet you keep impressing me with that cold blooded efficiency of yours.”

“Stop...” Ravalor lowered his eyes, his heart was ripped apart by guilt and shame. “Please.“

He felt the light squeeze on his hand as Zenozarax said, “I know that isn’t who you are. You know that too.”

He didn’t believe it. Not anymore. But he couldn’t tell Zenozarax how wrong he was about him. Zenozarax didn’t need him to say it and only shook his head ever so slightly.

“We’re very different, you and I. You strive for order and clarity, strive for absolution in righteousness. But there will be no forgiveness you can give yourself once you lose faith.“

Ravalor flinched as he felt Zenozarax’ hand touching his face, the faint warmth tingling against the cold that had taken hold of him. The danger of this touch, even through the gloves which he could easily burn through, was dizzying, the implication intoxicating and terrifying — as Ravalor looked up and the yearning in his heart for a time long past almost took his breath away. He looked back into Zenozarax’ eyes. And for the first time since his disappearance all those centuries ago, Ravalor saw genuine regret in them. A deep seeded pain that filled his following words.

“Why couldn’t you have just come with me?”

There was a truth deep within this question, knowledge of events Ravalor couldn’t remember, the nagging question of what by the lords’ names his most trusted friend had done back then that Ravalor had refused to stay at his side.

“I wish I knew…” he whispered.

And he saw how his words tore whatever was left of Zenozarax’ resolve apart. The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

“Curse you.” No more than a whisper under his breath as Zenozarax hand pulled him forward, their foreheads touching “I’m sorry. And I know what you think; but my regret runs deeper than having lost you. Though there is not a single day that I don’t think of that day. Because I couldn’t make you forgive me. But I am sorry.“

“Zenozarax—” Ravalor felt frozen, taken by the sheer physical closeness to the other wizard. He didn’t know what to say, if he even had to, if he could say anything that would matter now. This close to finding the answer ls he had always looked for, but suddenly no longer finding the strength to ask the question.

“I know…” Zenozarax whispered. “I don’t expect you to forgive me now or ever, not even to tell me that you don’t hate me. Because I know you have every right to. But no matter how you feel — you’re still a part of me. And you always will be.”

“Don’t do this...” Ravalor begged weakly, his hand trembling in the other’s hand. “Please.” He closed his eyes, burying his head against Zenozarax’ neck, he felt his eyes would betray him now, speak what he could not say, dared not to say in fear it would make it true.

“I’m sorry,” Zenozarax whispered again, his low voice so close to his ear, sending a shudder down his spine. And in that moment the reason for why he was sorry did not matter anymore. If it was just for having lost him, so be it.

When Zenozarax pulled away from him it felt like an eternity had passed and no time at all. He opened his eyes again and saw the clear regret in Zenozarax’ eyes too.

Zenozarax leaned back as he said, “It pains me to leave you here, but I have to go. And so do you.“

“Please…. Don’t,” Ravalor said quietly, his voice taken by the all consuming fear of being left alone again.

Zenozarax, about to stand up, stopped, halted. There it was again, that gentle smile that belonged to the wizard Ravalor once knew. Who he thought he had lost forever. Zenozarax reached into his pocket.

“You know I can’t stay here with you.” Zenozarax’ voice turned softer, almost lulling him into comfort. For a last time he reached for Ravalor’s hand, briefly, and as he pulled it back there was a faint weight left in Ravalor’s palm. “And neither should you. I won’t force you to come with me because you shouldn’t. You should return to Mezchinhar. Be whole again. Heal. Leave this behind you.” He paused for a heavy moment. “But if you can’t do that … find me if you will, at the Edge of the Universe. We will be at this location for a little while. Come alone, or bring an army, I’ll welcome you accordingly.“

“Zenozarax—“

“I’ll be waiting for you.” Zenozarax finally stood up and turned away. “Nobody ever called me wise anyways.” His steps continued, the light followed.

Ravalor couldn’t think straight, so he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see him leave, could not bear the thought of seeing the light vanish with him. So he chose darkness before it. But the sound of his steps was clear enough, walking away, growing distant, then a sizzling of energy.

A mere echo.

Then he was gone.

Silence again.

Only water dripping from the ceiling.

The Stargazer was alone again.

He opened his eyes, staring into darkness, slowly the urge to run after the other grew with every breath he took as the encounter turned into memory that seemed already so distant and impossible that he barely believed it really happened. Threatening to have been just a dream after all.

He didn’t move.

His hand twitched and he was reminded of the slight weight in his palm. Quietly he stared at it.

The small device was the only proof that what happened truly had happened. And the overwhelming weight of the decision, delivered in the unsuspecting form of this harmless little waypointer, came crashing down on him.

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