e followed the ring's direction in silence for the better — or worse, depending on how you looked at it — part of the day.
We fought the final guardian; the biggest balor of the three. And, whilst it was an enemy we were becoming increasingly familiar with, it didn't make the fight any easier.
Valen had seemed particularly off his game.
His attacks came a little slower, the hits a little softer — and I had to wonder if it was the removal of his demonic taint that had brought about this change, or if it was the bone-deep weariness that had overcome us all.
We were tired and we were all on edge. But we were all in one piece and ready to be done with Cania. None more so than me.
Since revealing my true history to Aribeth and Valen, Deekin had taken up questioning me about my world afresh. It was a game I had enjoyed on our trek from Hilltop across the desert with Xanos and Dorna, but now it just left me feeling homesick and sick-sick.
Aribeth had been silently seething; her movements sharp and jerky, her words curt and rare.
And Valen?
Valen had seemed to take my revelation in stride. The sting of my betrayal softened infinitely by my removal of his demonic blood's influence. But, despite his apparent ability to put it behind us, it still felt like there were words unsaid, more than ever before and our almost kiss played on my mind everytime I caught him glancing my way.
Stomping through the snow, the balor and his minion's corpses dotting the icy landscape, our quartet worked silently. We had fanned out to cover more ground in search of the Knower of Names, eyes on the ground.
"Hey, Boss!" Deekin called.
He was on the other side of the flat field of ice, butt in the air and face pressed hard against the surface in an attempt to make out the creature's trapped beneath.
I perked up at his voice, raising a hand to my eyes to shield them from the glare.
"Yeah?" I called back.
He pushed himself back to his feet, rubbing his cold hands against his pants and cocking his head at me.
"Hows you spell 'excruciating'?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow ridge. "As in 'in their search for the Knower, the heroes battled their worst enemy yet; excruciating boredom'?"
I rolled my eyes.
"You'd rather just bash every prison open and fight more of these arseholes?" I called back, motioning around us.
"At this rate…" I only just made out the first part of Valen's retort, the wind cutting off the rest.
I smiled flatly, pulling my scarf tighter around my face and squinting into another cloudy pocket of the frozen ground.
I rubbed at the ice with my forearm, melting away the freshly fallen snow and squinting into the foggy depths. Sometimes, we'd be rewarded with a big blurry shape — but all that told us was where not to break the ice, not where the Knower was frozen. This was one of those times. I frowned at the big blurry form. Just another long forgotten creature that had found themselves in Mephistopheles' bad books. I shuddered; thankful that this hadn't been my fate.
Pushing back to my feet with a sigh, I shoved the ring on again, squinting through the fuzzy red glow that appeared all around us and pointedly ignoring how it seemed to leech into Valen's skin. I pulled the ring off with a huff.
"PIece-of-shit powered-by-hope bullshit." I hissed, stuffing it back into my pocket.
"Cursing now?" Aribeth huffed.
She was veering towards me in her search across the ice. She held a hand out before her, splayed open, attempting to sense the presence of the devil's and demons below.
"She does it when she's frustrated," Valen replied with a cocked brow.
"No fuckin' shit," I retorted, dragging my eyes away from his curving lips.
It wasn't much later that I finally gave up.
"There's no way we're gonna find her at this rate!"
Any longer out here and we'd freeze to death. And, if we merely started guessing at where to shoot the catapult, we were either going to run out of the measly supply of ammunition, or we were going to be killed by one of the trapped creatures.
Choices, choices, choices. Enserric tutted oh-so-helpfully.
I sniffed, rubbing my running nose against the back of my glove with a grimace.
…And then it hit me.
Smiling, I reached for the enchantments on the Sleeping Man's amulet, imagining my favourite of the three forms.
With growing ease, I shifted into the wolf, immediately stretching and relishing in the form's superior senses.
Everything was whiter. Louder. And yes, taller. But the smells? The smells were everywhere.
The wolf's nose opened up a whole new world to me.
Nose to the cold ice, I trailed after the only smell — other than my companions — which didn't immediately set my hackles on edge. All around me was the scent of the devils and demons; like week old socks, rotten eggs, rancid old cheese. It was like nothing I'd ever smelt or hoped to never smell again. It was stomach-churning, vomit-inducing, and brain-numbingly foul.
The others were quick to convene to me, following as I sniffed at the air, tongue lolling in an attempt to cleanse my palate of the horrible smells that threatened to make me gag. The smell I was after was weak, alien.
Mixing with it was Valen. His scent was intoxicating, mixing with the Knower's. I could smell the hells on him, the smell that was so similar yet oh-so-different from the balors below our feet. And — whilst they set my stomach roiling — the fiery smokiness to him almost made me lose sight of my prey altogether.
As if sensing my difficulty, the trio hung back and waited, as I honed in on her.
When we did eventually find the Knower, I was all too ready to shift back into my true form, the wolf beginning to overpower my own sense of self.
A final shift into the earth elemental's hulking mass and I negated the need for the catapult, flinging the ammunition into the area around where I'd sensed the Knower's presence. What the balls of iron couldn't accomplish, I did with fists of stone and sheer bloody will. And — when that was no longer enough — Aribeth melted the last of the ice with a combination of our final few velox berries and a pillar of fire summoned straight from the heavens.
If overkill looked like something, it was this group digging a hole in the ice.
Once the water settled, we saw her.
Unlike the Knower of Places, she resembled an angel more than a butterfly; her features no less striking.
Looking at her, I couldn't help but consider the logistics involved in her and Mephistopheles being lovers; the devil being more than double her size. I shook the thought aside, reaching forward with Valen to help her out of the pool of icy cold water.
She was groggy, and immediately wary, but she allowed me and the tiefling to help her from her prison; white feathered wings flapping sluggishly to assist when the edge of the pool became too slick.
She wore all white; white dress, white wings, white hair and eyes. Bereft of colour, she seemed to fade into the very ice around us.
She was silent at first, observing us all with wary, wide eyes. And then, shaking herself, her attention snapped to me, pale lips pursed. She didn't look impressed.
"I guess thanks are in order," she offered me a deep nod, eyes never leaving my own. "Long have I waited to speak your name; Murdus the Wild. Judge of Cania." She smiled flatly.
I felt a sudden weight on my shoulders and a pressure like a vice on my heart. The name, whilst unfamiliar, was intimately mine, and I staggered back a step under the sheer force of it.
Aribeth's eyes darted to me in surprise as Deekin pressed up against my side. His hand cautiously reached for my own slack one and I absently felt him squeeze tight. By the time I glanced at Valen, he'd carefully schooled his features, but for the small crease of concern on his forehead.
They know my Name! She told them my Name…
I glanced again at Aribeth's considering expression. My heart thundered in my ears, so loud it seemed to outmatch the howling wind. Could I trust her with it?
I searched my mind desperately for any memory of them hearing my name in the game. Of them using it. I thought she was supposed to whisper it to me…
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, forcing down the anger and panic.
"Why?" I asked the Knower, voice breaking.
I was suddenly struck by how old she was, despite her youthful appearance. Her eyes held all the knowledge in the world, hard and sharp and focused entirely on me.
"I owe you a debt, Murdus," she said.
My Name seemed to pull at my very being; like hooks in my soul.
I wilted under her scrutiny, realising that I didn't know if she meant for saving her, or for what I was about to demand of her. Because, looking into her impossibly old eyes, I realised that she knew. The same way she knew it would be me who had saved her, she also knew that I would be her and her lover's undoing.
"Jane," I corrected her through gritted teeth. It suddenly didn't sound right; like a word that had been said so many times that it loses all meaning, my name had instead lost all meaning after a year of disuse.
"You have many names," she conceded after a moment of consideration. "But, if that is the one you wish to be referred to as… very well." She nodded. "Now ask what you will."
Licking my lips, I asked for the most important one. "I seek the Reaper's Name."
"The knowledge of the gods has its price," the Knower of Names warned, "And they demand a different fee for the Reaper's True Name… There are two items that have aided you in your quest: a ring and an amulet. You must surrender them."
Begrudgingly, I removed the ring and amulet. The Knower of Names took them with delicate fingers.
"A small price for our freedom," Valen said, as if sensing my reservations.
As she placed them in a small satchel at her hip, I fished my notebook out.
"The one you know as the Reaper of Cania is called Hecugoth the Abandoned in the gods' tongue."
As the name left her lips I recognised it immediately, writing it with shaking hands.
"The other names you wish to learn?" she pressed.
I paused; my original plan thrown out the window since the revelation of my Name to my companions. It was a change that I couldn't afford not to remedy.
Suddenly, I remembered the Sleeping Man, who still waited by the gates of Cania. I remembered the power he exuded. The way his eyes had lingered in both suspicion and desire when they had landed on Aribeth.
Can I kill two birds with one stone?
"Who is the Sleeping Man's True Love?" I asked.
Once the Knower of Names had received the gods' payment — in gold this time — she nodded. "The Sleeping Man's one true love is called Va'ardalia the Twinsouled in the gods' tongue." I smiled. The Knower shifted her gaze to the elf. "You know her as the Lady Aribeth."
Valen and Deekin both turned to Aribeth. She had straightened at he name, and now her lips were pursed.
I filed her name away for later, to write below Valen's and the Reaper's.
She narrowed her eyes in my direction, "I guess I should be thankful?"
She sounded bitter. And — whilst I knew she would not be pleased at my meddling — I did not think she would be quite so… angry. My already small smile faded.
"Try not to look so pleased," she snapped.
I swallowed. "I'm happy for you, Aribeth. I think you would be good for eachother—"
"Do not be so flippant," she snapped. "It is yet another thing the god's — you — have decided for me… I suspect you wish him to help defeat Mephistopheles?"
I opened my mouth to object, but I couldn't find the words fast enough.
"Gods,'' she sighed, eyes dropping to her feet. And then, almost to herself, she muttered; "He's been waiting for so long…"
I saw the fight go out of her as suddenly as it had appeared, shoulders dropping. She fell silent, contemplating the new twist in her destiny, face a careful impasse.
Twinsouled indeed, Enserric hummed to me. Watch her, he warned.
Leaving Aribeth alone with her thoughts, I briefly considered Valen, both with uncertainty and a certain amount of shame. But as much as I might want answers for myself, we needed to focus on getting out of here…
I needed two more Names; the price of any others I might want both too steep and our supply of gold so very quickly dwindling.
We would not need the Sleeping Man's; because, angry as she was, Aribeth was right — his true love was reason enough to sway him to our cause.
And, sweet little Deekin, him I knew would follow me to certain death. Death and then some.
He looked up at me, trust in his little yellow eyes, and I felt myself almost smiling in reply to his own.
No, we would not need his. Even if money hadn't been an issue.
We needed Mephistopheles'. And to get that we needed only one more…
"Is there another name you wish to know?" the Knower pressed coldly.
"Yours."
She didn't even feint surprise, voice flat as she told me; "I am Phyresi the Knower."
I wrote Aribeth's and her Name is quick succession.
"And Mephistopheles'?"
Valen and Deekin exchanged a quick glance, the silence thick. The woman's countenance hardened in evidence of her refusal to answer, and I saw more of the rage from earlier seeping through. Seeing it, I knew then how she and the devil had been matched by the gods themselves; in love and Name.
"The one thing that could have unravelled my love's duplicity during the False Rebellion would have been the realization that he and Baron Molikroth were one and the same," she stated. "He took steps to ensure that the truth would never come to light, and he forbade me to ever speak his name."
She was going to make me do it.
"And even if he had not, I would not."
I looked down at my page of Names. Breathing through the ball of guilt, I told myself that, without his Name, there was no way I would survive the coming battle.
"Phyresi the Knower, tell me Mephistopheles' True Name."
The winged creature looked between my companions, one by one, expression seeking. I didn't have the heart to see what they themselves thought of my bending of her will. Eventually, she bowed her head in defeat.
"Very well, though the gods must still have their price. For one such as him, it will always be high… Are you willing to sacrifice five hundred thousand gold to learn Mephistopheles' True Name?"
It was more money than most would see in a lifetime in this world. More than my house back home… But then, you couldn't put a price on your life.
…Or so I thought.
Without hesitation, I emptied nearly all of our combined gold into the Knower's bag of offerings.
"The one you know as the devil Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eighth Hell, is called Thra'axfyl the Ambitious in the gods' tongue…" she closed her eyes, as if in pain. "Damn you, Hellwalker."
"Thank you." I whispered as his Name joined the others.
She lifted her lip in a barely suppressed snear of distaste, chin held high.
"Any others?" She asked curtly.
"No…" I paused, eyes swinging to Valen again in uncertainty.
It was a fleeting moment of weakness. I'd never intended to ask for the True Name of my true love. I knew it. I'd found love; the kind that left you feeling like you could never live without them. Before then wondering just how you would when they were gone. I knew. But, here and now, I knew a moment's hesitation.
And that was telling enough.
It was a single moment of 'what if's?' A moment of wondering if you could have more than one true love. The notion of a true anything preposterous, before I'd become a part of this world of magic.
If it was my husband, would I be doomed to be alone forever? Never to fill the hollow space he'd left behind?
But, If it was Valen, I'd be dooming us to a world apart.
Either way, I didn't want to know.
I bit my lip, realising just what it was I'd taken from Aribeth in telling her what was to come. In telling her what was right and expected for her.
Knowing would change nothing.
And yet, it would change everything.
I swallowed. "No, no others." And, before I could change my mind; "We need to return to the City. Can you… send us there?"
"I can," the Knower declared tersely.
"The tavern." I found myself adding hastily.
Mid-command, and without any goodbye, she swept us through a portal, back to the City of Lost Souls.
When we materialised in front of the tavern's door, my mind was ringing with the True Names I had learned. Thinking, as ever, ahead to the next step. I barely waited for the vertigo to pass before pushing open the door, notebook and Names clasped tight in hand.
I didn't look to see if the others would follow. It didn't occur to me that they might not. We were so close to our goal that it didn't even occur to me that it wasn't everyone's goal.
As I was shouldering the door open, Valen reached out a hand, fingers closing around my shoulder. I felt the heat of him, even through my cloak and leathers. I felt the uncertainty in his grip.
I turned, the question on my lips, before suddenly realising just why he had stopped me.
Aribeth had no intention of following us into the tavern's bowels. She was walking away; in the direction of the Sleeping Man.
Reaching out a hand, I took a tentative step towards her.
"Aribeth?" I asked, surprise in my voice.
She paused, looking over her shoulder at me.
And, as words failed me, I realised I hadn't expected her to stop. I hadn't planned any further.
I swallowed.
"Where are you going?" I asked carefully.
She considered me, eyes narrowed and face pinched in frustration. But then, she let it all wash over her, the pain and anger leaching away in the wake of acceptance.
"To the temple," she said simply. There was no hint of her earlier resentment.
The notebook with her Name weighed heavy in my hands as I considered her words.
"We'll come," I said after a moment's hesitation.
Valen's grip tightened on my shoulder; giving me pause.
"I don't need you for this," she said. And then, softer; "I'd rather be alone."
I blinked at her in surprise.
And then, I forced a small smile, nodding once. "I'll see you at the Gates tomorrow morning."
She nodded to each of us in turn, before turning away.
"Good luck," I said meekly, before Valen's warm grip dropped away and we retreated into the tavern, her Name clasped close to my chest.