There’s no place like home.
And this damned geometry won’t let you forget it. You trek, a line extruding from the ragged square that is the Bastion. Raindrop and Nio’s lateness might have put you at ease – splintering that sacred schedule – but instead you feel even more keenly the misalignment with that invisible grid over which you stutter.
For a moment, you can pretend it’s an escape. Pretend that this rabbit path leads all the way out of the forest, all the way to the coast, all the way to… someplace you can catch a singular breath without someone else’s down your neck. That this stream, if you just shadowed it long enough, might lead you to the world as it should be.
A sharp exhale from Raindrop interrupts that solitude. You pause for a rest, your susurrous retellings going largely ignored. That pair – Raindrop and Nio – seem more flustered than a mere late arrival should incite. They do not meet each other’s eyes. Devo, the final corner of this diamond, registers a flicker of concern. There are no words beyond your soft shell of stories.
The Stranger, the Cobbler, the Barber. And you.
Completing the trifecta.
Your borrowed words, from Eirsace and Bausana, falter as you move off again. The trees grow denser, greener and for a moment you can imagine you’re in Jotama.
But that life is gone.
It never seems to last for long.
The Bastion will fall too, the same way everything else fell – from the inside. It’s already beginning – a hole in the fence, a conspiracy of glances.
The air is still, here. You keep moving, that artificial breeze warding away the dreadful static. Even here, you cannot escape it, the imposition of seconds reinvigorated as Devo checks his watch. In the quiet you can hear it tick. Boxing away each passing moment as just another notch, freezing the instants into stale numbers.
And the edge of a whisper… just out of reach. The Rochaithe seems warm. It pulses imperceptibly under your fingers.
You’re not sure what draws your attention, but suddenly you become keenly aware of the gun in Devo’s hand. A sensible precaution, of course. It strikes you quite suddenly that the other three are far better trained. If they wanted to leave you behind…
It happens in a flash. So quick you’re not sure what happened first. Devo, rushing forward; Raindrop moving to block it; a gunshot; a cry from the woods.
Devo sprints away, Raindrop and Nio close behind. You follow, the noises clarifying into words: “please”, “save me”, “ash,” “light”.
Once you arrive, all is quiet. You see Devo, standing over a prostrate woman. Gun pointed straight at her.
A moment.
Her eyes glimmer with tears, holding a steady gaze. They're eyes you know–Verity Lowell's, matching Ulric's disturbed gaze. Are these the people you so easily trust, who are so eager to slaughter?
The gun lowers. And once again it seems the Bastion has no escape.
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