The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3) - Page 104

“Myrin?”

“Partially. Maybe even a large part. But then there’s Morgan. And you.”

“Me? Why me?”

He shook his head. “Surely you don’t even have to ask that after everything you’ve shown me in your Grimoire, Sam of Wilds. You know why. I must admit I did not expect to read what you have written here. I—you’re more than what you show. I don’t know why I fail to see that.”

“That sounded dangerously close to a compliment.”

“The bird.”

“What about it?”

“You said that you took life to give it life.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it was the same, after?”

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He was strangely patient. “The bird had died. Either it moved on to wherever birds go after they die, or if you’d rather believe, it was snuffed out like a candle in the dark, leaving behind only a wisp of its former self. In this case, a body. But then you took life to give it life. Was the bird the same?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t either, Sam. I am learning that even after all these centuries, I don’t know many, many things. And most of them have to do with you.”

“Oops?” I said, chuckling weakly. “My bad.”

“I loved him.”

I fell silent.

Randall looked toward the fire. “Myrin. I loved him. Maybe more than I’d ever loved anything in this world, before and after. He was… this light. This beautiful light that I thought I could be consumed by. That’s what he felt like anyway. Maybe it’s the old romantic in me that still thinks so. I’m sure anyone in love for the very first time feels the same way. Before him, I hadn’t time for something as trivial as love. I was young—well, younger—and on a set path to become the greatest wizard the world had ever known. Nothing was going to stop me. I took my time. I thought it would be better if I did. That way I could take a look at everything there was to see. I was an architect, and my magic would be my greatest work. And when I was ready, when I was ready to build, I would find my cornerstone and the world would be in awe of me.

“I sowed my oats, sure. Men and women. It was easier to lie next to a stranger than to form attachments. I didn’t need more of those. I had my mentor. I had my studies. Those were all I needed.”

His smile took on a melancholic curve. “I wasn’t ready when I met him. But it didn’t matter. He rolled in like a storm, and nothing I could have done would have stopped everything that followed. I didn’t want to stop him. He was devilishly handsome. He could charm anyone out of anything. He had this… this laugh that when you heard it, you would just stop and listen to it. It was loud and boisterous and oh-so contagious. Do you know what the first thing he ever said to me was?”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“He said, ‘Well, well, well. What do we have here?’” Randall’s hands were trembling. “And I was just so perplexed as to why he was speaking to me at all in the first place. Everyone knew to leave me alone, but here he was, forcing his way in, brash and kinetic, and I just… let him.

“If I could have you know one thing, Sam, it would be this: there was a time when he was good. There was good in him. I will always believe that. I saw it. For a long time, for many, many days, I saw it. He was good. But sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes good can give way to the darkness in all of us until it blocks out all of the light.”

He looked back to me. “To answer your question, yes. We did what we did in hopes that one day we would find a way to bring him back to the light. To banish the darkness that had consumed him. Maybe it was naïve, but when you love someone so completely, you tell yourself that you would do anything for them. That you would do what it took to keep them safe. And if they were lost to you, well. That you would find some way to bring them back home.”

I saw where this was headed. “You called death a cleansing.”

He waited for me to continue.

“You think… that if he were to die, I could bring him back. And he would be… cleansed?”

“Yes,” he said, voice cracking. “But I am wrong about that, Sam. We were wrong. To keep him trapped in the shadow realm, to not have ended this when we had the chance.”

“You knew,” I said quietly. “About the bird. You already knew. And… what? You were going to use me?”

Randall looked far older than I’d ever seen him. “The briefest of thoughts. But yes, Sam. It did cross my mind. Then I remembered the truth of all things. Myrin has chosen his path, and he will continue upon it, no matter what we do. And I realized that death is final. Death is the end. It is the cleansing of life, the breaking of the shackles. It is an ending. You cannot course-correct that ending, even though your heart is aching.”

Tags: T.J. Klune Tales From Verania Fantasy
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