She had a noted interest in Jaeden’s words. “I could spare coin for my own pony, I suppose. That is, if we could manage to find one that wouldn’t kick me to death.” And then, “Or else you would have to have me on your back.” She said to Fortunado, and afterwards she was slowly bothered why she had started talking to animals. Jaeden did it, but they were his pets. Could they even understand what she said? That question was marked in her face. She requested Jaeden to get a horse that was “not too high” in fear of falling off. Otherwise, she remarked that she was open to suggestions.
“I find it very generous of you to not charge me anything.” He said something about a long story? Well, she had her own long story, and she wanted to tell it to him now, before her mind bursts from thinking about events that happened to her. He could tell his long story after her. Jaeden was in for a long unbelievable story. But, unbeknownst to Jilitse, Jaeden had his own dark fairytale to tell. “Are your friends,” she meant his Kelvic bondmates, “coming along?” She didn’t mind them knowing her tale, of course, but she wanted to prepare herself if she’ll be having company. Three’s a crowd, after all.
She waited for Jaeden to prepare for their journey. Unlike her, Jaeden needed his own supplies – pulsers needed conveniences of their own. Jilitse, as a Nuit, just needed to make sure that she came back in one piece. No unnecessary trivialities such as needing food and water. She waited for his riding lesson, memorizing the words he would say. Jaeden gave the best advice when it comes to things related about wilderness. He was a mentor of sorts, she thought, comparing him to her own masters in Sahova. But of course, considering herself as an apprentice of Jaeden would be wrong, and she isn’t really a customer if he didn’t want her to pay. Maybe a friend? Jilitse wondered.
And when it was time to ride the horse, she requested Jaeden to assist her to climb. If Jaeden ever managed to touch her cold skin, his Ranuri gnosis would envelop him with uncanny thoughts. A Nuit was very different from a human, not really caring for any immediate need. Jilitse was purposeful; her thoughts filled with loyalty to some undead archwizard far away in Sahova, alternating with the want to be favored more and more by Priskil. But her most pressing concern was to unload burdens of her mind. She wanted to talk, she wanted Jaeden to listen. Nobody else would.
As they readied, she started to say, “Have you any news about the Orphanage burning down?” She continued, “I was there when it happened.” Her voice, as Jaeden suspected, carried more emotion that the time that they had first met. It was almost as if she was apologizing that the fire occurred. “I went to Priskil’s Pond last season,” Jil murmured, voice returning to the flat monotone he was more familiar of, “you know that much about me. But the reason I went there is more than just providing a simple prayer to the goddess. To Priskil,” she corrected herself, remembering that Priskil didn’t really like being called or treated like a Goddess, “But that’s just part of the story, and I want to tell you the rest of it. Please keep it a secret.”
She would pay attention to any other preparation that they may need, do her own obligation, but she will continue telling him what happened, and why things happened. “I lived before the Valterrian,” she said nonchalantly, “And I was part of a project that was meant to give Alahea the advantage over Suvan. It was called Project ARMED, the predecessor of what will be Sahova. Our kingdom,” she said, as if Jaeden was part of it, “decided to utilize all the magic that we could in order to crush the Suvan empire. But I should not bore you with a five hundred year old tale, most of it is inconsequential anyway. Many have forgotten the war, even the mages in Sahova had stopped caring.” She was one of those who did, deciding to find a different meaning to life. “The Valterrian was history. But is it really? War never changes, and it perpetuates itself through time. Perhaps with a different face, a different name. But it’s as if the world hang upon a balance,” she joined her two forefingers in a tent, “one side pushing against the other.”
Jilitse didn’t know if Jaeden already knew Aquiras’ story, but she told him anyway, with the twists this time around. “With the Valterrian the gods themselves entered the battlefield. There was no neutral side, you had to either pick one or be forced to pick one.” Her voice deepened, her face developing into a frown. “It was that bad,” Jilitse tried to allow Jaeden to think about the repercussions of the war. “And then there were those who took advantage of the chaos, those who benefitted from it.” Jilitse stepped back on her tale a bit, “Many do not know the tale of Sagallius, but he played a big part in Alahea’s history. He was one of the brightest wizards that ever lived. Intelligent, cunning. Not many remember, but he was a celebrated savior before he went mad. He was the strongest wizard in all the land and he saved the last queen of Alahea, but then it went downhill from there. I suppose you are familiar with magic? You may have even come across people who have overused magic. They are addicted to it, consumed by sweet whispers, eventually destroyed if they overgive too much.” Jilitse’s magic, Animation, wasn’t the kind that could push her to the limits of overgiving, but she knew what it could do, even to the best of wizards. She knew people who suffered from sweet whispers, and some of them ended up killing themselves than to succumb to the power of magic. “Sagallius was such a victim. He fell to overgiving, went crazy after that. The next thing you know he’s stealing somebody else’s heart.” The story should be familiar to Jaeden. He was in The Game, after all. “That heart belongs to Aquiras, then gods of doors and travel. I could say that I’m working towards the restoration of Aquiras. I could say that I owe my life to Priskil so I’m waging war against the god who stole her lover’s heart. I could say a great many things to circumvent the truth.”
“But my story began more than a year ago, in the Archwizard’s office in Sahova. There I made a promise to free him from a Grand Oath, to stop the cycle of his undeath. There I promised to destroy Drainira, the million miza golem. There, I ended my life as a slave to project Sahova.” Jilitse’s voice did not falter, but Jaeden could tell that she was very, very serious about things. There was no room for small talk, for appreciating nature. Suddenly the forest was just a silent listener. “When I left, I took a few things with me, one of them was Marie Suzanne. She was no ordinary book.” A laugh rippled in her throat. “The book was written by the Archwizard’s daughter. But it was a book that was alive. Drainira called it her sister.” She never understood the book’s construct, never really figured out if it was a product of animation, so if Jaeden tried to ask her more about it, she would just end up retelling the undecipherable tales she had read before.
“Drainira wanted the book. I didn’t know why.” Jilitse shook her head lightly, “But I didn’t allow Drainira to get it. Althought it was not like she couldn’t… she did in the end.” Hopefully, Jaeden got the point. “They came through a portal, from another world. It was very late at night, and we were caught defenseless.” She did not say it, but Jaeden could figure out for his own that “we” meant the people inside the Orphanage. A blind man named Stitch, and the kids. “I didn’t want to surrender. Do you know the reason why the Welcome Home burned? It’s because I was there.”
My fault, my fault, my most grievous fault.