Will be absent for a time. Uncertain when I will be back. Leaving word in case you return before I do. Walk in the Lightâs blessings, Brother. I pray for your safety.
The note was left pinned to the alchemy table, held in place by a phial too heavy to be overturned by Pamâs nonsense. The home was locked; Kargain was bribed with a heavy bottle of whiskey and an armclasp. There was nothing left to be done but to leave.
If you walk away now, youâll be safe.
That was what Lilim had said, or something to that effect; in one damned moment, she had made her choice. Ludovick would understand, she felt â if sheâd been able to tell him, anyway. In one damned moment, sheâd turned away from a life uncomplicated by Ereleth Tremaine and the pocketwatch and the Light-damned demon. One choice, and sheâd cast aside any hope she might have had for normalcy, a life where she might have kept watch over the chickens in Ludovickâs absence, might have searched for some sort of⊠peace.
She could have had simplicity.
Knowing that Ereleth was still alive, that things were still in motion, she could have walked away and contended only with those dangers she chose for herself, could have dealt with only what any paladin might have felt was their duty. To serve the Light, to act as the Lightâs vessel, to join the war or retired to train up new knights for the front, to search for the dead, to light candles for them every night as she prayed.
And yet, sheâd followed Lilim, only hesitating for a moment before tossing it all aside. For what?
Like a damned fool, like an idiot, she had bowed her head and stepped forward, because if she didnât, who would? Lilim was familiar in a way that was entirely too uncomfortable. She recognized the womanâs wariness as a twin of her own, and it struck a discordant note within her, to see that damage done to someone else. Whatever might happen, Lilim would no longer be left to contend with it alone, she decided.
Sheâd given up, once. Sheâd failed them all, too many times to count, and sheâd given up after a time, unable to move forward.
Years. Sheâd spent years regretting her failures.
Now, at long last, she had a chance to make it right.
Ludovick would have understood if sheâd been able to tell him. But she couldnât. And he didnât need to know. It didnât matter, what anyone else would have thought of it; they were dead or gone, and she was alone, now. It was to her to make the choice, and sheâd made it.
⊠it would be a long ride to Lightâs Hope.
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