Studying Renn and Trek, I felt oddly at ease.

The two were sitting on a small bench, on a small outcropping on the roof of the Cathedral. We weren’t far from the mansio, and other Society areas, but we were alone and away from everyone. It allowed the two to talk quietly, without being bothered or interrupted, while also allowing Trek to watch the oncoming sunrise peacefully.

It’d be his last sunrise. And somehow Renn seemed to be doing a perfect job of being there for him through it, yet quietly distant enough to not bother him while doing so.

How did she do it? She had a smile. A warm gaze. She had shed a few tears during their conversation so far, but nothing too bad. Nothing too wild, like the full on sobbing and weeping she did occasionally.

It made me jealous somehow. And made me wonder why I had been apprehensive about this these last few days.

I hadn’t needed to worry after all. Somehow that made me very proud.

Trek was an odd man. One with a human appearance but with a mind more akin to Nann and Nasba. The type of mind that was little more wild and uncontained than a human’s would be. He was quiet, and simple, but had strange wisdom all the same. One beyond a human’s capability. Not because a human couldn’t be wise, but instead because a human simply couldn’t be what they weren’t.

They barely lived long enough to be themselves sometimes, after all.

“And then there’s us…” I whispered as I thought of the man sitting behind me.

I shifted enough to see the reflection in the window. To see the priest sitting not far behind me. He was still sitting calmly on the bench near the wall, hands clasped on his lap, and looking as much at peace with himself as Trek did.

Randle’s ability to sit for long periods without issue annoyed me. Because it reminded me of myself.

I knew what it was like to sit still for long periods. I knew it well. And I knew how no matter how still or serene one looked, the mind within could be a raging storm unlike no other.

Usually I’d say the priest’s mind was as serene as he looked… but I suspected right now it was far from it. Randle has begun to, unwillingly, step outside of his comfortable box he called his life… and was doing it in odd ways, with odd concerns as he did.

Sometimes our kind simply grew so smart and wise that they became stupid. As if going in a full circle, or something.

Well… I suppose I shouldn’t outright call the man stupid.

His methods were fitting, honestly. For a man such as himself.

His request of Renn had been simple… but momentous.

He had a letter. For Lilly. A woman he had once tried to banish and kill.

A letter to beg for help.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” Randle said lightly, likely because he had noticed my look.

“Hm. Renn’s grabbed his hand, to hold it as they watch the sunrise. She’s a gentle woman,” I said, agreeing with him.

“And what does that make you, O’ Protector?” Randle asked.

I’d have narrowed my eyes, since usually such a statement was accompanied with a snarky tone… but this time it hadn’t been.

Turning, I shifted just enough to face Randle but remain able to see out the window. I’d have to turn my head a little to accomplish it, but I wanted to keep an eye on Renn and Trek until the end. Just in case.

Last thing I needed was for Renn to try and take the man’s life herself. I didn’t think she’d try, or that Trek would ask her to, but you never knew anymore.

“I’ve always tried to be gentle with our members,” I said honestly.

Randle didn’t even blink as he held my gaze. “Just our members?” he asked.

“Well… no. I was raised to be gentle to the whole world. A price of being blessed with my strength. It was a mercy forcefully instilled within me. However, that mercy does diminish and even disappear when our members are weighed against the world,” I told him.

“Some would praise that,” he said quietly.

“Only some?” I asked with a smirk.

Randle finally broke his serene peaceful look as he glared at me. “What would you have me say, Vim? My faith gives me one law. The Society another. I break a law no matter which side I take,” he said.

“I wasn’t telling you to. Nor do I expect anyone to. Even though everyone seems to think otherwise, or have simply forgotten, one of my agreements with Celine was to bear that burden for them. To do what they, what you all, cannot,” I reminded him.

Randle blinked and sighed. “So true. To be honest I too have pondered that. Most of our members don’t even know of your agreements with Saint Celine. Or only know portions of them. I used to think it was fine, since as long as you followed them dutifully it mattered not… but maybe their lack of knowing, or caring to, is partly to blame for their recent antics,” Randle said.

“See? Too wise. Too wise for your own good,” I said.

Randle tilted his head at me, which told me he hadn’t understood my meaning. But it was fine.

Looking away from him, I stared out the window at Renn and Trek. The sun was rising, albeit slowly.

“Think he’ll still ask for death?” Randle whispered. Dared to.

“Yes. Renn would not be crying otherwise,” I said. Her face was glistening. She was weeping as we spoke.

“A pity.”

I nodded. It was.

“And so too is it a pity she has such a bleeding heart, Vim. I am glad for it, of course… but… honestly it may have been better for us all for your wife to have been colder of heart than you,” Randle said gently.

“So that she could do what I can’t? Or to force me to do what I won’t?” I asked him.

“Both.”

Hmph.

Watching Renn as she heaved and breathed, trying to contain her weeping, I wondered if I should hold her while we slept tonight. Or well, this morning. The sun was just rising, but we’d not been to bed yet. Not since the other night. Maybe an early nap, or outright slumber, would do her good after this. She’d likely appreciate it.

“You seem to vastly cherish her,” Randle then said, as if he could hear my thoughts.

“I’d not trade her for the world,” I said.

“How about for the Society?”

The window cracked.

A giant crack, starting at the bottom left corner, shot upward and outward through the pane. It branched, and I half expected it to shatter as the crack reached the other side of the panel.

Once the small room quieted, and the window stopped breaking, I shifted ever so slightly… as to make sure I didn’t just fall through the floor. Some of the stones I stood on had shifted. The bricks, though heavy and numerous, had barely withstood me. I’ll need to check this area of the building later, to make sure it didn’t collapse and kill a bunch of people.

“I… My apologies, Vim. That had been mighty rude of me,” Randle apologized, and sounded not only genuine as he did so… but calm too.

Glancing at the man, I glared at him. “I hate that you aren’t scared of me,” I said truthfully.

Randle finally smirked. “Really? Is that why you’ve always been curt with me?”

“No. But it’s a thing all the same,” I said.

He sighed at me, but his smile remained. “Funny. I wonder why? Are you really that prideful? I had not thought you the type,” he said.

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m not that kind of prideful to be offended by someone braving my sight. Rather it just tells me how strong your faith is. It means you don’t fear death at all, because your faith is greater than even things you can’t comprehend. In all my life I’ve only met a few men with such strong convictions, and never once have I ever been able to break them in any way. Rather than hate you, it makes me respect you, and that’s what I hate,” I told him.

Randle sat up a little straighter, and for a small moment I studied his shocked expression… but I looked away to check on Renn and the duck, just in case.

For a few long moments, I watched the two in the distance as they watched the sun rise. The two had gone quiet. They weren’t talking anymore… and were just basking in the moment.

With the way they were holding hands, and the way Renn was crying, you’d almost think they were related. Or lovers. Husband and wife maybe. It made me jealous.

“Thank you Vim.”

I blinked and turned to look at Randle. He had lifted a hand to wipe at his face. I frowned as I watched him wipe a tear away.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever received such a handsome compliment before,” he said softly.

I shifted, for a different reason, and was glad the window didn’t shatter this time. The stones beneath me did shift a tad, but not enough to dislodge and break the window again.

“Hm…” I nodded, and said nothing more… because I wasn’t sure what else to say.

I had been of course serious in my remark… but I hadn’t meant to make the man actually shed a tear over it.

Maybe he was just emotional. From not just all the stuff happening, like with the Chronicler, but also the scene before him. Trek and Renn.

Had… had I ever seen him cry before?

Surely, right?

I mean… he was a very religious man… those types, those like him, they were usually sentimental… right?

For some reason it bothered me that I couldn’t remember him ever crying before. In all these long years, full of strife and sorrow… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him shed a tear.

“Why have you and I not talked before? Why did it take this long? Have we wasted these years?” Randle then asked, though it sounded almost as if he was asking himself… or maybe his gods, instead of me.

“Now, now, Randle. Don’t go becoming friends with me, that’s no fun,” I said as I watched Renn’s ears droop a little.

Trek had just said something. That had had made Renn lower her head and close her eyes.

Had he just asked her to come get me…?

Glancing away from them and to the distant sky… I wondered if that half-risen sun was enough for Trek. Or… maybe he wanted the end to come during the sunrise, not after.

Looking back at the pair, I realized I had not mistaken it. Renn was about to stand up from the bench.

“It’s time,” I said as I stepped away from the window.

I didn’t hurry, but I felt like I was rushing all the same as I went for the door. Opening the door to the balcony area, I stepped out into the chilly morning world right as Renn stood from the bench.

She noticed me quickly, and her face scrunched up at the sight of me. I tried not to smile too largely as I approached, since I knew she’d likely grow upset with me if I grinned too largely during the current moment of sorrow and pain.

Yet I couldn’t help it. Her face was a wreck of tears, snot, and grief… but the source of it all was beautiful. She was beautiful, her heart was beautiful.

How many could weep so strongly for a man they had only met a few times? Who they had only spoken to for a few hours?

Such pure emotions and the strength to feel and face them was what I felt drawn to. Because I wanted to share in them.

To share my own with her.

“Vim…” Renn mumbled my name quietly as I stepped up to the bench, and I glanced down at her hand.

It was still holding Trek’s. She wasn’t letting his hand go.

Hopefully she wasn’t squeezing too hard. Trek wasn’t as weak as some ducks, but he wasn’t strong either.

“Thank you, Rennalee. For sitting with me,” Trek said to her.

She turned, her face scrunching up again as she let out a tiny whine of discomfort. She visibly struggled for a few moments, and then took a deep breath.

“Yes… thank you too,” she finally got some words out, and then she sniffed and nodded.

“Mhm… Goodbye Rennalee. I hope every pond you land in is calm and warm, and all your eggs sing noisily,” Trek bid her farewell as their hands separated.

“Mhm…!” Renn made a heart wrenching sound as she nodded, and then she stepped backward. She almost bumped into me, so I reached out to pat her back. To let her know it was okay, and to be careful.

She turned, glanced at me just long enough to break, and then hurried away.

She ran strangely slowly, for her, and she wobbled as she did. I worried for her as she nearly fell over right before the door, and then disappeared beyond it.

Hopefully Randle would be kind enough to sit with her as she wept.

“Such a kind woman. I almost wish to live just because of how bad it feels to hurt her so,” Trek said.

“Almost?” I asked as I glanced at him.

Trek wore a kind smile. “Almost.”

I nodded, and sighed as I sat down next to the duck.

He shifted a little, but not because he himself had done so. I had sat a little too harshly, and the bench had moved because of it.

“I know, Trek. I do. But I have to ask all the same. It’s part of the process. Are you sure?” I asked, hoping he didn’t take offense.

“Hm. I had wondered if you would ask one last time. I’m not offended. Yes. I’m sure,” he answered.

He hadn’t looked away from the sunrise once since Renn had left.

“Okay.”

Reaching over, I grabbed the duck by the back of the neck. I did so tenderly. Gently. Without any twitching, or shifting. I rested my hand, cupped against the back of neck, with the same easiness as I would hold a newborn baby.

He’d feel my hand, but no pressure. No strain. And no hesitation.

“Thank you Vim,” Trek whispered.

“Goodbye Trek. May you soar on your next journey too,” I said.

He smiled again… and right after he took a deep breath, I squeezed and turned my hand.

The action had been instant. Like turning the handle on a door. One moment Trek was sitting up straight, with a smile, the next his head was turned at an impossible angle.

His neck had broken cleanly. A little quietly, strangely. Only his hands had twitched, and only for a single moment, and only once.

His heart had gone still. His deep breath had slowly released itself, and his lungs had not tried to inhale another. He didn’t tremble after, or twitch. His eyes didn’t move.

It had been a smooth death.

I had worried over it. He had wanted me to end him this way, so that he could watch the sunrise as it happened… so that even if he survived for a few minutes after the deed, the sight of the sunrise would remain and stay with him through it all.

Yet it seemed it hadn’t been needed. He had perished instantly.

“Goodbye,” I whispered as I held his head and neck, to make sure he didn’t fall over just yet. His head was limp in my grip. Lifeless. If I let his neck go he’d slump over and maybe even forward, off the bench.

I knew sometimes that the brain could keep thinking. Even after such a total and complete cessation to a bodies functions. So just in case… just in case…

Even if his eyes had already dulled. Even if his eyelids had already half-closed. I’d hold his head steady, and let him watch the sunrise to the end.

Taking a deep breath, I sighed as I looked away from him. I instead chose to look out at his sunrise.

Hopefully it had been beautiful to him. Hopefully his last sunrise had been worth it.

It was a little cloudy. A little windy. But maybe it was perfect all the same, to him.

“All those piers. All those times we had to drain and refill that pond…” I said as I remembered the dozens of times I’d helped him do such things.

There had been times those ponds had started to empty. Drying out. It had taken a lot of effort to renew and fill them back up. It was the natural order for such ponds to come and go, just as rivers and lakes did over great lengths of time. But Trek of course had not wanted to allow that. Come hell or high water he’d keep the pond his family had grown up in clean and healthy, no matter what.

Guess I’ll never need to worry over those ponds again.

A cry drew my eyes to the nearby door. The broken window next to it was just cloudy enough I couldn’t see within it, but I didn’t need to. Renn’s weeping was noisy enough that I didn’t need to see her to know what she was doing.

I’d seen it before. Several times.

Her. On the ground. Curled up in a tiny ball, with her tail wrapped around herself.

Weeping her massive, yet fragile, heart out.

Poor girl. She had been so happy earlier. Both Oplar had left; saying goodbye with love and good things to say, and then Randle had gone and asked her a favor. One that had made Renn swell with pride.

She had been so jubilant. So happy. Even when upset that I had startled her, sneaking up on her and Randle as they talked, she had beamed a huge smile at me while grumbling and threatening me with things far too cute to be threats at all.

She had been pure bliss itself.

Then this. In less than a quarter of a day later, she had gone from one of the happiest women on this planet to one now crying her heart out.

What was I to do though?

She had wanted to be like me. To live my life. To join me on my path.

I had warned her. I had. Several times. She’s had plenty of opportunities to step away. To separate from not just me, but what I did.

“Maybe she still will,” I whispered.

I blinked as I realized that was why I had been worried. Why I had stressed over her spending Trek’s last moments with him, together.

Yes. I was worried. That this would hurt her. Deeply. Scar her for life.

What if she couldn’t endure? What if she couldn’t persevere?

She had endured Ruvindale. Lumen and all its chaos. She had endured Landi and her monarch. The plague and the boy. Miss Beak and those mercenaries, or rather more particularly that man. The brother of the one we had left at the Crypt. She’d also seen and watched me punish Tim, and execute Rollo…

By all rights she should have already endured greater heartache. Lumen’s chaos she had blamed on herself, unjustly, in part. Ruvindale had been painful because it had been so sudden. A home she had not even settled into yet had gotten destroyed and ripped asunder. And all the other events to boot, each one making tiny cracks upon her heart.

Yet… there was a different depth to the wounds made by moments like these.

A different kind. A deeper pain.

A more personal ache.

Spending the last moments with someone who was a friend, only to take their lives yourself… was harder than slaughtering a million enemies. It was harder than burying friends and loved ones, slain by nature or foes.

Most couldn’t do it. Most couldn’t do it even when they needed to.

Turning my head, I glared at the head I held in my hand. The one a little lopsided. A little tilted.

He was lucky he had been a good man. He was lucky he had been so humble in his request, and had found my wife so lovely.

I’d have torn his head off otherwise just now.

Renn’s wails grew softer, yet to my ears they grew louder all the same. I heard Randle’s soft voice amongst her weeping. He was praying. Knowing him he had knelt down next to Renn, placed his hand on her back and gone to praying for Trek.

It should be me there next to her. Holding her.

Instead I held the head of a dead man. The very one who had cut her soul so deeply.

“Please stay strong,” I begged and pleaded as I listened to the woman who had claimed my heart cry in sorrow.

Please.

For yourself.

For me.

For the Society.

Because if she broke… if I lost her over this… or any of the future cracks that would inevitably come…

I’d likely break too.

Then… who knows what I’d break afterward.

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