. . .
Ardent Belief
. . .
When Thaos glances at her, she immediately looks down. Her blush is barely visible in the candlelight. Thaos turns away and smiles when he feels her eyes on him again.
Contrary to what many people think, he believes in love. Oh, yes, he does. Love is a very useful tool, he learned that long ago from Woedica herself. He has used it many times since then, because it often yielded better results than fiery speeches or the elation he could inspire in other worshippers' souls when they prayed together. Woedica was not jealous. The only thing she wanted was power, and as long as Thaos did all he could to achieve that, she was not interested in his methods.
And right now he has to use every trick he can if he is to obliterate Iovara and her heresies, as he calls them among his followers. Iovara is not wrong, but neither is she right. True, the Engwithans created the gods, who used to be mortals and have not lost all the vices from their mortal lives. But they became more powerful than any other being. And if that did not make them gods, years of prayers and faith did. Thaos does not worship them, and he respects Woedica because she used to be his queen, but he never underestimated the power of mind, will and soul. The only real disparity between him and Iovara is that they use different words to describe the same facts.
. . .
"Grandmaster." The acolyte bows her head respectfully.
Her soul burns brightly like Magran's fires. Thaos has many devoted followers, but in none has he seen such zeal and ardour as in that girl who can work miracles with the sheer power of her mind. The world as it is now has no good names for her talent; the Engwithans would have called her a soulmistress.
"No one else could have done what you did," Thaos praises.
Almost amused, he watches the girl's soul turn into a trembling orb of light as his words sink in. Gently but steadily, he touches her soul, letting the girl see her reflection in his mind, letting her see it as she wishes to. Letting her know that he is pleased with what she did, how she used her gift. That she did something no one else could accomplish, and that she won his favour.
And the girl believes it because she wants to, because she wishes to believe so very much. Minds, Thaos thinks, so complicated, and yet so simple.
"You did well," he adds.
"I did what I had to do," she replies in a whisper.
He can see her soul: compassion for Iovara, shame that she had to lie... And determination, firm belief that there was no other way, that in the end that will be best for all. And underneath all that doubt, which Thaos has to erase.
"Yes," he agrees solemnly. "You did what you had to. You're not the only one who regrets what happened; I, too, regret it came to that." He is not lying. He regrets having to waste so much time and effort to fight Iovara's heresies, time and effort that could have been used much better, had he not had to deal with that problem. "But you did what was necessary, and returned from you trial victorious."
"You honour me, Grandmaster," the acolyte replies quietly.
That is all she says, but Thaos knows her thoughts. She is trying to hide them, but that is of no use; how could it be, when he can read her soul? But she tries, Thaos has to give her that. She tries not to disturb his important work with her insignificant, naive love. If Thaos knew it was but an infatuation, he would not bother. And yet despite what the girl is trying to convince herself of, her feelings, though naive, are strong. Constant. And because she has a great gift, Thaos decides to take care of her talent. Personally.
"There is one more question you want to ask," he prompts.
Her eyes go wide with amazement and fear, fear that she has been exposed, that she did not manage to hide her feelings well enough.
"I dare not," she whispers, casting her eyes down once more.
Thaos smiles at her.
"Should you dare," he says in a lower voice, one he has never used with her before, "come to my chambers in the evening. I'll be waiting with an answer," he coaxes gently.
The girl's soul flares up with a flame so bright it is almost blinding. Quite a pretty sight, Thaos decides. Like a burning pyre.
. . .
"Sit down," Thaos encourages as he pours wine into two silver goblets.
The girl perches at the edge of a chair just beside the fireplace, the red and golden reflections turning her hair into flames. She is trying to bridle her curiosity, but eventually gives in and looks around the chamber. When Thaos hands her one of the goblets, her slender fingers tighten around the silver as she lowers her head.
Her face is pretty, though not beautiful. And her pale eyes glow with the fires burning in her soul.
"Is there anything else you wish to ask? In Creitum..."
The girl shakes her head.
"No," she replies quietly. "Not any longer." For a moment, she goes silent. "Not yet."
Interesting, Thaos thinks. He can sense what she is not aware of yet, the echo, the embers in her soul – memories of a past life. One day, her soul might awaken.
"Do you regret?" he asks gently.
"Yes." She looks up at him, her eyes burning with the inner flame and guilt, equally scorching. "But I would do it again if I had to."
Thaos smiles with all the compassion he does not feel and the satisfaction he does not have to feign. She does not fully understand how much has she done for them... And Thaos, though harsh and sometimes ruthless, can be kind to those who serve him faithfully.
"Very few carry such fire and passion within their souls as you do," he praises.
For a while they sip their wine in silence. He senses doubt still lingering in the girl's soul, but she is not ready to ask more questions. Except for one.
Thaos smiles briefly, amused.
"I cannot give you an answer for a question you won't ask," he says, breaking the silence.
The girl blushes. She lowers her head and let her hair fall over her face like a curtain, trying to hide it, but Thaos can see right into her soul.
"Would you... Could I..."
"When we're alone, you can call me by my name."
That is a privilege he does not grant often, and only to those most distinguished in service, like her. Sometimes also to those who are yet to do their great deeds, and who get their reward – paid in respect or fame – posthumously.
The girl plucks up her courage and lifts her head. Up close, her grey eyes are the colour of dawn.
"Could I ever win your favour?"
Thaos reaches out and touches her cheek.
"You have won my favour already."
He takes the goblet out of her hands and puts it on the table. Then he gets up, reaching for her hand, and gently pulls her with him. His thumb moves across her lips as he leans in, closer, slowly... The girl's eyes are bright with adoration. When he finally kisses her, her slender hands, trembling slightly, seek purchase on his shoulders.
Thaos undoes the clasp at his neck and lets his cloak fall to the floor. Slender, slightly trembling hands shyly reach towards the buttons of his robe.
His hands are calm and steady. One ribbon, another, she is not the first acolyte in his life and he knows their robes as well as his own.
Dark fabric slides down her shoulders with a soft rustle, revealing smooth skin, fair like the finest wax. In the firelight, with her hair gleaming gold and copper, the girl looks like a candle, and the embers in her soul glow more brightly.
Thaos takes her in his arms and reaches out to her with his thoughts. The embers of her soul burst into flames.
. . .
Her quiet cry is what wakes him. She is sitting beside him, wrapped in a sheet, her hair tangled, her breaths ragged. And then, instead of casting her eyes down and profusely apologising for disrupting his sleep, she looks into his eyes.
"I know you," she says. "We've met before."
Thaos watches her closely, with interest. She has seen a former life, that much is certain. He wonders what exactly has she seen, and from which life. And whether he should kill her now.
"I..." She glances around as if she could see through the walls of his chamber. "I've been here. I've seen..." She puts a hand to her forehead. "A pillar of adra and... I don't remember..." She is looking at him with wide, not quite clear eyes. "I asked you something and... You said it had to be done and... I don't remember..."
Thaos does not remember either, he has told similar things to many. He reaches out and touches the girl's cheek, trying to calm her down.
"Maybe that's for the best." He is trying to make his voice sound gentle.
For a moment, he can glimpse hesitation on her face. But when he starts stroking her hair, she relaxes and closes her eyes.
"You probably have a reason to think so," she says quietly.
"I have many reasons."
"And I don't want to know them..." But she guesses, she must; after all, she witnessed what fate has befallen Iovara so far.
What she does not know is that Iovara is but a drop in the ocean.
"You don't," he confirms.
He does not even have to deceive her, because she would rather not know at all. Perhaps that is for the best. Sincerity, when applied in moderate doses, can be surprisingly refreshing.
"Come." He lies down and pulls her close, putting his arm around her, and lets her cling to him.
The girl sighs quietly, timidly setting her hand over his chest where she can feel his heartbeat. Her love is naive and foolish, yes, but she has a very useful talent. She is also young and pretty, and a bit of admiration is a nice thing, from time to time.
And this is, Thaos thinks, a perfect moment for some admiration. A few months, until he grows bored with her. Or a little more, as long as he will be able to make use of her gift. And it never hurts to have someone so devoted...
"Tomorrow, we'll take care of your memories." He strokes her hair again; it's soft, silky, pleasant to the touch. "But for now, my little soulmistress, try to get some rest."
"Soulmistress?" she asks sleepily.
"That's how people with talents similar to yours were called a long time ago. Soulmasters."
"A beautiful name," the girl mutters. "Even though it is completely at odds with reality."
Maybe now it is, Thaos thinks. Back then, it was an apt description.
The girl puts her head on his shoulder, and he allows it. He can be generous, and she will certainly appreciate thats.
He has almost forgotten how it feels to be with a woman in love. Not one fascinated or besotted, not, there is plenty of those and he meets them often. No; a woman who loves truly and deeply. That gives him a sense of power, heady like the scent of adra incense.
There is no lack of power in his life, but he never uses it for himself. That power was given to him by Woedica, and he would never use it for any personal gain. Not because he fears the wrath of the gods, something ominous, but vague; Thaos knows very well what the Queen does to those who steal her glory. He might have power over the souls of her worshippers, but he owes that power to Woedica, he rules those souls in her name – and he would never use that power for anything but furthering their grand cause.
But this – pure admiration in the eyes of a woman – is a different kind of power, power over one soul and mind, but it is absolute, intimate. He owes that power to no one but himself, and he can use it however he wishes. Which is precisely what he is going to do.
Why not, Thaos muses. She is young, pretty, she is not imposing herself on him, she asks for nothing. She is devoted, dedicated, she does what is necessary – the fact that the Inquisition now has Iovara securely locked in a dungeon is the best evidence of that. And the girl has a useful gift – she can touch a soul, put her thoughts into someone else's mind, she has a talent that can be honed into a powerful weapon.
Why not, Thaos thinks. He has always found it fascinating how excellent people of all races are at deceiving themselves. But perhaps that is what makes it possible for the world to keep turning.
. . .
Ever since that night, the girl is a frequent guest in his chamber. Thaos does not even have to say anything – just a moment of concentration as he sends a thought, and she hears it. And later in the evening there is a glass of wine, the smell of incense on the sheets, her cool smooth skin and the heat of her soul.
Sometimes she asks about things, and Thaos usually answers. He tells her of history, of the soulmasters of old, tells her everything he is allowed to. He helps her train and get better at soul reading, and it gives him real satisfaction to watch her perfect her skills. He is her mentor, her lover, but not her friend, even though they talk much and often. Sometimes he even brings her gifts, like old books and ancient writings on the magic of mind and soul.
When he chances upon an old – antique – hairpin made of adra and copper, he puts it into the girl's fiery hair the very same day. Adra and copper were often used by the Engwithans, and Thaos is certain the hairpin belonged to a soulmistress once, because he has seen it before. In another life, the first he remembers.
Adra beads gleam on thin copper branches, dark against the girl's flame-red hair, like drops of infinity. He can see time reflected in her eyes.
"I know you," she says in a clear voice, her and not hers. "From the beginning."
Thaos frowns. "The beginning of what?" he asks sharply.
"Everything," she answers mildly. "Adra burns, quern-stones grind the souls..." Her eyes, unseeing, are looking far across the ages. "A burden so heavy it would crush any body, but a soul can endure more... Men, women, even children... So many souls... He will carry them on his shoulders until the end of time, and even though he didn't take them for himself, that burden will bend and twist his spirit..."
Thaos finds that very interesting. It seems the girl can see more than he expected. And definitely more than she can comprehend. For example, she does not know souls are weightless. If they had mass, he would feel it, but he feels nothing, therefore they have no weight. Though perhaps they should have.
The girl blinks, shakes her head.
"What... I... What's just happened?"
"You've seen another life," he explains. "Your soul is waking." He puts a finger beneath the girl's chin and looks into her eyes, but finds only trust there. "You're extraordinary, my little soulmistress. Yours is a great gift."
"Because I can sometimes glimpse a past life?"
"Because one day you could see more." Thaos knows that a soul once awakened can awaken again more easily. And each awakening is knowledge, awareness, power.
He pulls her to him absent-mindedly, lost in thoughts. When he starts stroking her silky hair and smooth skin, the girl melts against him, pliant like wax.
"Do you remember what you saw?" he asks softly; even a quiet clang of an adra dagger can be a pleasant sound.
The girl concentrates for a moment, trying to make some sense out of the incomplete, shattered images dancing beneath her eyelids. Finally her bright eyes look up at him.
"You," she says slowly. "I felt the burden you carry," she adds with slight hesitation.
Thaos smiles inwardly. Manipulation is so much easier when a false picture can be put together from grains of truth.
. . .
There are days when he feels tired. He remembers his every life, but the memory of mortals was never meant to handle that much. Though it can, if necessary. Thaos values that particular ability, because each piece of the past is knowledge. But knowledge, unlike souls, has weight.
He did not call her this evening, but the girl is waiting in his chambers anyway. She should not have come. She has learned his moods well enough to know when it is better not to disturb his solitude.
And yet she came.
"You're tired," she says, her tone apologising, her eyes shining with compassion.
Thaos suppresses the urge to laugh. He needs none of that, neither compassion nor pity... But perhaps it is for the best that she came. Her visits usually let him sleep well later.
"Your concern is touching," he says, trying to keep the mockery out of his voice. "But you needn't worry."
When he sits down and reaches for a glass of wine, her cool fingers gently touch his temples. He feels her touch physically, but also in his mind, his souls. Like a balm. The exhaustion is gone, dispelled, and all that is left is a chamber warm with fire and the slender hands of a fiery-haired girl. He lets his eyes close.
"You're a wonder," he says. There is no lie in that; she's a wonderful cure, nothing more.
Soft lips touch his hair. Soft, warm, burning... Thaos turns and kisses her deeply. Yes, her visits let him sleep well later...
He gets up and reaches out for her hand.
"Come here, my little soulmistress."
As usually, he does not call her by her given name. He knows it, of course, but never uses it. After all, tools have no names. True, he keeps calling her his soulmistress – but most people give tend to name their favourite weapons.
. . .
At first, he does not even notice her. Yes, he is ever alert, even when he enters the inner sanctum of Breith Eaman, where no one else can set foot. And yet she came. Maybe that is why he did not sense her – he is wary of dangers, and she could never turn against him. This has nothing to do with trust; he can see her soul, so he simply knows.
"You shouldn't have come here," he says quietly, subtle threat lacing his voice.
"I know. But..." The girl shakes her head. "I had to. I need to know."
"Ah." His brow furrows. "You've talked to Iovara."
"She said the gods are not real..."
"Oh, they are real. Quite so." They are real, they do exist. No one knows that better than him.
"They exist, I know. Iovara... She said it hadn't always been so. That the gods were created by the Engwithans. That..." There is doubt on her face, plain as day.
"They are real. And so is their power."
Her eyes are ablaze. "Answer me, Thaos. I need to know."
Never, except for their more intimate encounters, does she call him by name. And yet she just did. Thaos can see doubt in her soul, like cracks on glass.
"Yes, what she told you is true."
"So she was right..."
"She told the truth," Thaos says with emphasis. "It does not mean she was right." He looks into the girl's eyes and soul. "Yes, they were created. It does not diminish their power."
For a long time, she is silent.
"Why?" she asks at last.
"We chose order instead of a world ruled by chaos," he answers calmly.
"Order? Chaos? It's not that simple..."
"No," Thaos interrupts quietly, but there are steel echoes in his voice. "It's not simple."
The girl is quiet. She calms down slowly, as if the fire in her died down a little. She looks up at the high adra pillar. For a moment it seems that her mind is somewhere else, in another place, another time... Another life. And then she blinks and turns to him.
"Go back to your chambers," he says gently, but firmly. "Or to mine. Rest. Think it over. And then I will answer your questions." He raises his hand in warning. "But don't come back here."
She nods slowly. Her fingers are toying with the adra hairpin that slipped off her hair.
"You're the only one who can enter the inner sanctum?" she asks.
"Everyone can enter." Thaos smiles briefly, but his eyes remains cold. "But I'm the only one who can leave."
. . .
She is lost in thoughts, an air of some deep sorrow around her. The kind of sorrow that would have moved anyone else, but not Thaos.
"I remember," the girl says, lowering her head, and her hair falls over her face like a curtain of flames.
"What do you remember?" Thaos asks, his voice soft like a dim light reflected on a blade of a knife.
"Everything." Her tired eyes look up at him. "You know. You were there."
"I don't remember you," Thaos says carefully. He is speaking the truth; he does not recall ever seeing her in the more distant past.
The girl smiles sadly. "Because you didn't see me."
He searches through her soul and finds a memory. A man in dark robes, tall and so thin his face looks like a skull; his fingers, brittle like bones, are touching adra. Next to him there is a young woman – a girl – with hair fair like sunlight and eyes like the sky after a storm. Something gleams at her temple – a hairpin of adra and copper. A single drop of sweat glistens on her forehead. The man's soul, guided by her thoughts, leaves his body and sinks into the adra pillar, to join many other souls. There is another man standing nearby, watching the whole scene through Thaos' eyes.
Yes, he did not notice her back then. His attention was on the process itself, not the soulmasters overseeing it.
She was there... And now she is still here. When Iovara discovered the past, she left. But this girl – when she discovered the past, she sought him out. And it does not look like she is going to leave anytime soon.
"And yet you're still here," Thaos notes. "Why?"
"I have to." She lowers her head again, hair veiling her face. "Because there is no other way."
"Ah, so you understand."
"Me? Yes, I do. I do." She looks up at him, eyes gleaming. "I want to forget," she says quietly, almost pleading.
"I can't make you forget."
The fire he has only seen in her soul so far now flashes up in her eyes. "Yes, you can. There is a way." They both know what she is talking about. "I've never asked anything of you. Now I ask."
"Just a little bit more," Thaos says softly. "Hold on for just a bit more." He still needs her, still has use for her talent, and losing her now would be too great a waste.
"You'll use that, too, won't you?"
"Does that surprise you?"
Her lips curve into a mirthless smile. "No. Why should it? I remember." She gets up, brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "I'll wait." She hesitates for a moment. "But you'll be the one to do it. No one else."
"I will," Thaos promises emotionlessly. Perhaps just a little perplexed that she is looking into his eyes, while usually she turns her face away, unable to meet his gaze for long.
She starts walking towards the door, but Thaos stops her.
"Stay," he says in a quiet, low voice he uses for special occasions.
He cannot allow her to waste her potential before they use it to the fullest. She is going to do that anyway, because she could serve the cause for much longer, but this way at least her death will not be in vain; Thaos will see to it. But for that, she must die in the right moment and carefully arranged circumstances. Until then, he will keep watch over her and make sure she will not do anything foolish.
The girl is silent.
"You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asks, with a hint of mockery.
Her shoulders fall a bit. Thaos can feel the tension leave her body, and she slowly relaxes under the touch of his hands.
"No. Though perhaps I should."
"Perhaps." Thaos narrows his eyes a little. "Why now? Because of what you've recalled?"
As she turns, soft candlelight highlights her profile. Thaos would have appreciated the sight, had he not lost all ability to notice beauty many lives earlier.
"Because of what I had to do. Iovara... Memories are just a drop in the ocean." She shakes her head, light dancing on her fiery locks. "I understand why." She looks up straight at him. "But I'd rather not know. I wish I could still believe."
"Knowledge and faith are not mutually exclusive," Thaos replies.
"But it won't be as it used to." The girl smiles sadly. "It will never be as it used to."
She cannot do anything foolish, Thaos thinks coldly. Not yet, at least. And she has a talent that intrigues him. So he has to make certain that her gift can be used for as long as possible.
"It can be," he says softly, extending his hand. "Come here, my little soulmistress."
Her palm is slim and cool, as always. But there is something different in her eyes. Indeed, she does understand. She understood that the only thing that matters to him is his great cause, and her little love is – and always has been – meaningless. And yet she still reaches out to him, because in spite of everything, she still wants to believe.
. . .
The girl spends every night in his chambers now, and Thaos tries to see to her comfort. But despite that, it seems she is fading away. She accepted the truth, she has not left, she remains at his side, serving the cause. She remains, but apparently she cannot live like this.
That is why, although he has already asked her about it, he repeats his question. Perhaps this time the answer will change her mind about what she asked of him.
"You discovered what Iovara did. But you did not follow in her footsteps. Why?"
"Because I had to." Eyes bright as dawn gleam from beneath a veil of fiery hair. "Because there was no other way. I've told you."
Softly, almost tenderly, Thaos brushes a strand of hair off her cheek.
"But you haven't told me everything, my little soulmistress. And I'm very curious about your thoughts."
"I..." She glances away. "You made that decision for the kith. Iovara did the same." For a moment, she looks into his eyes. "I think there is very little difference between you two. There was," she corrects herself quietly, her voice heavy with shame and guilt. "I think that maybe not every goal justifies the means, that not all means can be justified, that..." she breaks off, frightened by her own boldness.
Thaos nods in understanding. Yes, he did terrible things. He does not regret.
"I think that maybe it was a mistake..." The girl's soul flickers like a flame of a candle in the wind. "But I also think people need something to believe in. Because sometimes it's difficult to believe in others, and not everyone can believe in themselves. And perhaps it was a mistake... But I'm not sure if what Iovara did wasn't another." She shakes her head. "I don't know. That's an answer I won't find. I must believe."
Thaos watches her closely. "And that belief lets you sleep at night?"
"Me? No." There is a crooked, mirthless smile on her lips. "But perhaps others can."
Her soul is far more interesting that he expected. Pity he learned that so late. But there is still enough time to draw from that fire burning in her.
He reaches out and takes a half-emptied wine goblet out of her hand.
"Tonight you will sleep, too, my little soulmistress." Fragile girl with a blazing soul that could set the world aflame, Thaos thinks, but you will be the only one that will burn.
His fingers tangle into her fiery hair. As he pulls her close, her slender hands seek purchase on his shoulders. But tonight her kiss tastes of ash.
. . .
The small chamber is bright – flickering flames of candles, the fire in the hearth. Good; it would not be proper if she passed away in the dark.
The girl wipes the sleep out of her eyes, then recognises him. There is something about her smile that reminds him of a ray of sunlight on broken glass.
"You came."
"I told you I will be the one to do it."
Thaos comes closer and sits beside her on the bed. He is expecting questions, but she does not ask, just looks up and reads all the answers in his eyes.
"Do it quickly."
A knife made of white adra gleams in his hand. Some tribes of Eir Glanfath used similar blades in their offerings, which has a peculiar kind of symbolism to it.
"It won't hurt," he promises.
He is ruthless, but he can be kind to those who serve him well. And hardly anyone has served him with such devotion as she has. That is why he reaches out to her soul, makes the memory of the pain vanish instantly, it is almost as if she never felt it.
"That much, at least..." the girl sighs with some bitter satisfaction. "You came," she adds, noticing his questioning gaze, her voice both sad and almost mocking. "At least I was an important matter."
Her eyes close, she exhales one last time. Her burning soul turns to smoke and flies away.
Thaos wants to laugh. So she understood in the end. He did not think it would ever happen, did not think it was possible. Too bad he underestimated her.
His lips tighten into a thin line. What a loss, what a waste. But had he not killed her, she would have given her soul anyway. At least now he can use her death to deal with the heretics.
He looks at the girl's calm, pale face, at the emptiness in dawn-coloured eyes. He reaches out and gently pulls the adra hairpin out of her hair. Pity, he thinks briefly. But, sooner or later, they will meet again. Though Thaos doubts he will notice her.
. . .
He meets her many lives later, in the city now called Defiance Bay, on the grand stairs in the Duke's Palace. Her silhouette and face are different, her eyes are like dusk, not dawn, and her eyes are not fiery red but white – grey – threaded with single dark strands, they look like white adra. But Thaos can see her soul, he has briefly seen it once before already, so he recognises her instantly. He always knew they would meet again one day.
The girl is staring at him, trying to recall something more, trying to find some sense in the snatches of thoughts and memories; Thaos knows, because he can see in her soul how lost she feels. He can see the silent question in her eyes and knows that somehow she recognises him, that she senses something. It does not surprise him; she has been a soulmistress in many former lives, perhaps she is one in this life, too. People with such talents now call themselves ciphers; as if there was any secret to it, Thaos thinks in disdain.
She recalls scenes from the past, but that is nothing extraordinary; his soul is awakened, too. No, not awakened; his soul has never fallen asleep. But her soul is waking, and not for the first time either.
But this time he can see something more in her. It is not a simple awakening. She can see her past lives, but also other souls, and not in the way ciphers usually do. Ah, so now she is a Watcher. The Engwithans used to call people like her the soulmasters of the ages.
. . .
Their paths cross again – not for the first time, and perhaps not for the last – in the depths of Breith Eaman. It all began here, Thaos thinks, so that is where it should end.
He can still see much of that girl in her. She is ardent, full of compassion, she would like to save the world, even from itself. But she is very different from that girl, too. Thaos remembers that in their past lives she used to lower her gaze or turn away, and now she is looking into his eyes without hesitation, without doubt, without fear. Just with sorrow. Here is, Thaos thinks, love that transcended death. But still it did not conquer anything.
"How naive I was," the girl says, more to herself than to him.
"You were," Thaos confirms mercilessly.
"You probably know that best." She is trying to read something from his eyes, to look into his mind, because she is a soulmistress in this life, again.
She is also something more. She is a Watcher. She knows how many times they have met, even if she does not remember everything. For a moment Thaos feels a burning desire to remind her of those meetings. In detail. To see if her soul would tremble, if he would be able to throw her off balance. Those who lose confidence make mistakes.
As do those who are overconfident and forgo caution.
She is no longer a naive girl. She is a woman, still very young but with eyes aged by all her former lives. And Thaos, wounded, defeated, is kneeling on the stone floor at her feet. It is so absurd he almost laughs out loud.
"If only you had listened," the girl with the eyes of an old woman and hair white as adra says softly. "You always knew how to listen."
Yes, it is true, he always listened, remembering every word and gesture, every piece of information that could be useful later. Sometimes he just drew wrong conclusions. He briefly wonders how the world would look like if she took the place of the Queen That Was. For a heartbeat he can almost see her in a white-adra crown, can see the light radiating off her, the flame in her heart, the fire she would like to warm the world with, unaware that she could burn it.
"What will you do now?" he asks calmly.
He did what he thought was right, he did what he had to, he served for as long as he could. He is not afraid. Just disappointed that he failed at the very end of such a long path.
The girl with the fiery soul smiles with such sorrow that for a moment even he is moved by it.
"What I have to," she says softly.
Thaos looks into her eyes, eyes which seem to reach into his mind and soul for the first time. And there he finds his answer.
The last thing he sees before death is a slim silhouette outlined against a tall adra pillar. For a heartbeat, before Thaos closes his eyes, the girl's white hair gleams like a crown.