Chapter Forty-Nine: The Final Act
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"No, no, no. By the end, I meant, uh...a heroic, uplifting way. See, I'm still optimistic. You're just thrown off a little by this gritty-looking eye-patch."
- Xander Harris, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "End of Days"
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Nearly four months pass after 777. Mujir's Resistance fight many battles. The Kavishka observes many trials of the principle members of Pucijir's Order. There is no shortage of executions; many of them are enforced by the Kavishka.
Nearly four months pass. A young girl writes an account of Prophecy. The daughter of the first Kavishka survives her destruction. Sanar's lover and sister grieve, and wait. Prophecy is quiet, even as Vengeance rages; Prophecy waits, too.
Four months pass, and then Prophecy needs wait no longer.
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Blood splattered across the floor. A body hit the ground; the corpse thudded once to the ground, and awkwardly rolled a few feet. The executioner wiped his weapon clean of blood on a nearby cloth.
Prophecy ended some time between Kyp's next two breaths, but he couldn't have said when he knew. Vengeance began to fade from its six year presence in his mind, though he wasn't sure if it disappeared suddenly with this last act of Vengeance, or if it had been slowly seeping away since Rafintair's death, and he just hadn't noticed. However and whenever it happened, it was finally ending—and quickly now.
"That's the last one," he told the woman beside him. Dejah had become a frequent companion and helpmate over these past months. Niha had, at least, chosen rightly there.
"Do you know where Jaina is?" he asked as he sheathed the Sildar.
Dejah gestured for two waiting soldiers to take the corpse. "Jaina Solo is spending the afternoon with Élin."
"Niha will be awfully disappointed when Jaina leaves, won't she?" Kyp enjoyed seeing the Mirese priestess uncomfortable. She had been far too calm about Sanar's sacrifice.
Dejah shook her head. "I think Élin may miss her a little more. The girl is only just becoming used to your friend's strange ways. Is Jaina going to leave soon?"
"Once I and Sanar are gone, I think she will have to return to her own life. She has certainly put it off long enough."
"You? But—"
"Let Jaina finish her discussion with Élin," Kyp interrupted. "But if you could get a message to her, please, to meet me in Sanar's room right after?"
Dejah nodded slowly. "I will tell her myself."
"Don't worry her, or mention anything I've said, Dejah," he warned her.
"No, of course not." Dejah hesitated. "What did you mean about Sanar and yourself?"
Kyp looked at her steadily. "You've been a good friend these past months, Dejah, but I would like you to go tell Jaina now."
The fighter frowned but nodded. "She shouldn't be more than an hour, I think."
"I will be with Sanar."
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These are the facts:
Approximately a year before 777, Devnos Klis and Lerasina Verili made a plan to save Sanar Klis. On 777, Lerasina Verili suffered something her doctors referred to as a psychotic episode. Some offered different explanations, chief among the dissenters being Nichyn Whilem and the patient herself. Lerasina's own psychologist came to agree with her patient that forces other than overwhelming emotional or psychological strain had caused the breakdown. Lerasina's mental state reflected more grief, confusion, and some elements of post-traumatic stress disorder than any kind of mental imbalance. This idea, despite the Verili parents' concern, gained support as no further episodes occurred.
On the other side of the galaxy, Sanar Klis too suffered a psychological blow, but one of staggering strength. For Sanar, there was no recovery. Kyp Durron continued as the Kavishka, now joined by Zekk and Jaina Solo, and with slow—and not entirely welcome—help from the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances.
These are the facts. They are well established, as facts may be.
Of course, there are always Mysteries, and there are always secrets to flesh out the facts.
There is always a final act, always some truth behind the facts.
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As it was:
"My sister," Devnos Klis told Lerasina, "will be forced to sacrifice herself. I would not risk you if her sacrifice led only to death. Instead, while saving our planet from Pucijir's Order, she will lose her soul. She will be offered no quarter, no mercy; she will share hell with those she fights. With the very worst of mortal beings."
Lerasina's face was pale. "But—can't—after her death, shouldn't her soul…?"
"You are very young, so I apologize that I have to tell you any of this, let alone drag you into it. There will be no justice. There are rules, much as Sanar's fate has already been inscribed in Prophecy."
"What, exactly, is going to happen?" Lerasina asked.
He told her.
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As it is:
Jaina wished that she had felt it coming. She thought that she should have known. Instead, she felt the loss of Sanar again, and then again more keenly, when she noticed Dejah's distress. "Everything alright?" she asked the fighter. Jaina kept her voice even.
"Oh. Yes." Dejah looked wide-eyed, so very intent on hiding the truth. It was all over. "He said to—the Kavishka said to finish your discussion." She nodded to Élin, who looked remarkably placid. "There is no hurry."
"Are you certain?"
Jaina was never quite sure if Dejah found fear or reassurance in her presence, since the fighter's discovery that Jaina had been resurrected. At the moment, Jaina thought it was a little more of the fear. "I—yes, he said it can wait."
"Thank you for bringing the message yourself, Dejah." Jaina tried not to be quite so strange. Dejah, after all, did not need to know that she and Élin had just been speaking of the afterlife.
Dejah made a swift escape. Élin watched her go; the novice's expression had returned to its awkwardly blatant consideration. "She was upset. Do you think that perhaps…?"
"I'm sorry, Élin, but I think we should cut our afternoon short," Jaina said abruptly. "I will…try to visit you tomorrow.
"Oh, yes, very well." Élin looked a little bewildered. Perhaps she had not figured it out, then; Jaina forgot, sometimes, that Niha's chosen was still very inexperienced.
"Niha does not have to know about your free time," Jaina suggested, grinning.
Élin smiled back a little too blankly to have properly grasped the reason for such discretion. "Would you— May I walk you to your destination?" she asked.
Jaina rolled her eyes and snatched her cane from the floor before Élin could try anything. "I can walk," she said. "By myself, even." She stood carefully, but didn't lean even a little too much on her cane. "Really. Kyp and Zekk need to mind their own business."
Élin looked doubtful. "You are not tired? Perhaps you should finish your tea first."
"No, I'm going," Jaina groused. "I don't need to finish my tea until I have grey hair, thank you."
"Are you going to be alright?" Élin asked.
This time, something in the girl's voice suggested her concern was not due to Jaina's continued ill health. Jaina sighed. Perhaps she had not overestimated Élin again after all. "What will be, will be, Élin. If you see Zekk in the next few hours, would you…?"
"I should like to walk with you, please, sister, all the same."
Jaina finally nodded. She was tired, though it had little to do with her slow recovery. "As you will. And then—"
"And then I will find Zekk, and still have time before Mother Niha knows I am free," Élin agreed. Before Jaina could protest, the heir hooked her arm through Jaina's. "Now," she said, quite obviously trying to distract Jaina from the support, "we were discussing this place you call the River, before one has completely crossed over."
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"I want to help," Lera said. "Is there any way?"
He hesitated only a second. "There is, but it would be dangerous."
"I don't care."
"Very dangerous."
She set her chin and met his eyes. "I want to help. Tell me how."
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Sanar smiled when Kyp came to her room. "Hello, love. I did not expect you for hours yet. Is anything the matter?"
She looked exhausted; that she remained lying on the bed, instead of rising to greet him, supported his observation. Not once, in the past four months, had this version of Sanar Klis failed to ignore everything in favour of his presence. He must be tired, too; he couldn't relax at her underreaction, let alone appreciate it. He wished he could squint and imagine…
Soon enough, he chided himself.
"It's over, Sanar." He sounded old. At least, he thought with a spark of his more typical humour, he wasn't using a cane. "The Resistance is on its own now. There is nothing more the Kavishka can do here."
She tilted her head to the side. He had a feeling that meant she was Listening Very Carefully. He missed her boredom.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I am—" She paused, and then opted for honesty. "I am feeling a little unwell," she admitted.
He sighed. "Yeah. Sanar—" He stopped. "May I sit next to you? I'm not feeling so great myself."
She looked instantly more alert. "I can—"
"No, no." He smiled, one side of his mouth curling more than the other. "I'm just tired."
Her smile was just a little too sad. She moved over the left side of the bed, and patted the vacated area. "Take a load off."
Kyp stretched out next to her. He noticed her slip—they happened occasionally. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. "You know that I always loved you," he said. "Right? Never minding Prophecy?"
Sanar's placid expression faltered. "I know."
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"This isn't dangerous like crossing a busy street, where you get hurt if you aren't careful and you end up with a broken arm." Devnos' voice brooked no mercy. "There is a very small chance that it will work, and even if it does, you will have to pay a price for being a part of it."
"Devnos Klis, if you are real, I demand that you tell me so that I can decide for myself."
A moment passed. "This goes against Prophecy—"
"Tell me."
"I will, if you let me," he snapped. "Even this conversation could be dangerous, so I can…whatever you decide, you won't remember this conversation once you've decided. Once you choose, you won't know how to back out."
She took a shaky breath. "Tell me."
So he did.
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Three days after her release from the hospital, Lera was spending the day at the Ryms' house. She had spent the first half of it Being Fine. That night, Shanya and Timmis were still slow to start making dinner. Lera excused herself to the living room before they could entreat her to join them. Nichyn shadowed her; Arelyk ran to find some 'vids. Apparently, she would spend her first week of freedom relaxing.
"They mean well," Nichyn offered.
She wasn't quite able to stifle her snort. "They do mean it," she agreed. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take a few minutes to regroup." She took a datapad out of her pocket, and waved it at a hoverchair.
Nichyn looked torn between fear and relief. "You're writing again?"
She shrugged, turning the datapad over in her hands. "I'm trying." She gave him a fleeting smile. "With my right hand, don't worry."
"Do you want me to…? I can help Arelyk, if you would rather."
She took his hand and pulled him to the couch. "Look, you're just going to worry if you leave, so you may as well stay." She sprawled across half of the sofa. "Take a load off."
He sat. Lera wrote, slowly, with her right hand.
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Lera agreed. And then she forgot. For quite some time, she forgot even that there had been anything to lose. She remembered a plan, you see. Devnos performed again—explained some other, safer plan to help Sanar. Not remembering the truth, she agreed again. She recalled only a letter that needed to be transcribed over the course of many months. When the letter was finished, she believed her part to have ended with it.
Facts are the bones; secrets are the flesh.
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Jaina threw the door open, causing Kyp to startle awake. "You're late," he grumbled. "No, wait." He thought. "I told Dejah to make you wait. You're early."
The Jedi waved goodbye to Élin, and then made her still-too-slow way into the room. Despite her cane and slow recuperation, her voice was crisp. "Kyp, I didn't listen to you when you were my master; I'm not going to listen when you're being an idiot." She hovered at the foot of the bed. "How is Sanar?" she asked nervously.
He sighed and sat up. "Jaina, sit down, please. The last thing we need is you collapsing. It'd really ruin the epic ending. And Sanar is…" He looked to where Sanar lay. Her eyelashes had fluttered, just a little, when the door had hit the wall. Otherwise, there was no sign of consciousness. "She's pretty tired."
"Aren't we all, these days," Jaina grumbled. "Look at us, my parents are more spry some days."
"Speak for yourself." Kyp aimed for a grin. One side of his mouth worked better than the other. "I don't use a cane."
She made a face. "I'm not the one in bed in the middle of the day. With grey hair." Jaina looked as if she would continue when she suddenly froze. "Kyp, why are you bed? Were you—you were asleep?"
"I'm pretty tired, too," he said. "What time is it?"
You, her expression seemed to say, are so not getting out of talking. She glanced at her chrono. "Fifteen hundred, more or less. Pretty late for beauty sleep, however much you need it. Are you doing something stupid, Durron?"
He gave her his most disarming smirk. "Always, Solo."
"Right, stupid question."
"Prophecy ends today," he murmured.
Jaina nodded. "Yeah, I—I thought so, considering Dejah's message. She didn't say anything," Jaina added at his frown. "But she was even more nervous than usual, and the timing is about what you said. I figured it out."
"And let me guess: you wouldn't mind taking a nap, either."
Jaina's dark eyes dominated her pale face. "Maybe my bond with Sanar wasn't as completely severed as we thought."
"I was worried about that."
"Me, too." She smiled strangely at him. "We could have worried together."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I suppose I should have told you. I've made certain that only two of us will die today. Someone has to make sure the holovid is at least half real."
"Did you do something stupid, Durron?"
"Always." When she didn't smile, he did. "Relax, Solo. This was less stupid than usual." She looked unconvinced. "I had some leftover bargaining power from Miko. What Prophecy wouldn't do for Sanar, I intend to make It do for my friends."
"Then why are you talking like you're going to die, too?"
"That was the deal, Jay," he said. "From the very beginning. Prophecy brought back the Kavishka. This isn't even my real body—it could never last. Prophecy is over, and so am I."
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The message Lera scribed was real. Lera knew she had agreed to help, of course, so her consciousness required some kind of distraction. But the letter was real, despite its necessary part in trickery.
It did not, however, offer any way for Sanar Klis to survive her role in Prophecy.
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At half past three, Kyp disappeared. Sanar, who had passed in her sleep a few minutes before Kyp, was left on the bed with only the Sildar.
Jaina stared at the sword for several long minutes. Someone knocked on the door; she ignored them. She had locked the crowd out, but they were getting impatient. Finally, she walked to the side of the bed. (She left her cane leaning against the wall.) She didn't touch Sanar. Her hand hovered over where Kyp had lain—she could still feel the faintest trace of him, like a phantom limb—before it dropped to the Sildar.
Someone—Zekk—threw the door open. It hit the wall, and bounced back. "Jaina."
Her fingers slipped around the sword: one set on the grip, one on the blade. She held it before her. "They're gone," she said. She almost didn't recognize her own voice. "It's just a sword now. See?" She flicked her thumb across the edge, and then held her hand out so that he could see the small cut. "Nothing."
"You're still here," he breathed.
She looked up at him. "Y-yes." Her voice was thick. "I am, aren't I?"
All the breath left Zekk's lungs. "Thank the Force. I thought…"
"Yeah. Me, too." She had thought—and she didn't want to die, but…. "Can you…can you tell the others? Please? I just—I need—"
Zekk swallowed. "Yeah, of course. Right away." He started to turn, then paused. "Are you alright?"
No. "I will be. Zekk, please?"
He lingered another moment before leaving. He shut the door behind him.
Jaina waited until three minutes had passed. When she was certain that no one would interrupt, Jaina cried.
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Kyp was barely in the River before he was on Death's shore. He looked, looked to the ignorance of everything and everyone else around him, but he couldn't see Sanar.
Kyp couldn't see Sanar anywhere.
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On 777, Devnos and Lera's plan went into effect:
Lera inhaled, and then—
(and then the burn was there and she remembered the plan but the pain threatened to tear the truth from her mind all over again)
—ohohohohohForce.
(She remembered, though, she—)
Lera only ever wanted to do the right thing.
(She didn't run from the pain. Devnos hadn't been entirely truthful, of course: she could have backed out. The decision lay before her, again, plain as the eye could see. She just had to turn her head, and the agony would have disappeared. She would forget, and be safe. She could have changed her mind.)
She tried to exhale, but that didn't work quite right, and then she stopped thinking.
(Lera had made her choice.)
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Lera's fingers lost all feeling. Her datapad clattered to the floor. Nichyn was already worried, and now starting to panic, but she didn't see or hear him.
Quite suddenly, her memory was being glued back together, filling gaps she hadn't known were there and—for a second, her head hurt so kriffing much and then she—
And then Lera remembered everything.
When she burst into tears, it occurred to her that this wouldn't reassure the Ryms.
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Kyp had almost given up all hope when he turned around. Only then, instead of a very long eternity, he saw a blur before his eyes were full of Sanar Klis.
"'Bout time you got here," she said when she had pulled back. "Gods. How long does it take to chop a few heads, Kavishka?"
He didn't give her a chance to say much more—for the moment, anyway, he had missed her. But he really had to kiss her, and even Sanar Klis found it difficult to throw insults and kiss at the same time. Usually. (This time.)
When he withdrew, he was gratified to see her dazed expression. He couldn't stop smiling. "So," he said, "what's next?"
She shook her head, and then grinned. Her expression looked distinctly evil. He wanted to kiss her again. "Well, you could say hello to my father."
The kissing, he thought, might have to wait until a little bit further into eternity.
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Devnos was there, and his pain—
(he had told her: we have to take the share, Lera, you and I)
Just like her own. Oh…
(three people to hold the Sildar, through such plots and plans)
Lera wasn't aware of anything—not her friends' panic, or Shanya's desperation, or Nichyn's grim terror.
(gods she hoped this worked)
Lera only—
(Sanar took the brunt, Lera knew that, Sanar took the brunt and then Devnos tried to make up for it, but still she felt)
(shh quiet
(this was what dying felt like)
no just—but shh
(Lera made her choice)
surrender just
(gods, gods, gods, godsgodsgodsgodsForce it had to work but)
quiet
(gods it hurt)
surrender)
(The Sildar reached into Sanar, and into Devnos, and into a teenage girl, and Sanar Klis did not die. The Sildar's criteria would be met—in time.)
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"Don't," Lera told Nichyn, seconds before he was going to yell for Shanya. "I'm fine. Really." She smiled, incandescent through the tears.
Nichyn hesitated, obviously remembering the adults' reactions to his previous silence. "Lera…"
"No," she said. "It's—I just remembered, Nichyn. We won." She laughed, unable to help it. "We won. Everything went exactly as planned."
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Devnos' message:
Sanar,
By now, I hope, you have figured out what Vengeance demands of the Kavishka. The hidden-but-not-secret clause to the Sildar's use, if you will. If the Na'Lein woman he loves does not return his affection, the Sildar will reject him and Prophecy will fall apart. I have never been an optimist, and I fear that Prophecy will find a way to manipulate even you.
Whatever you may feel for the replacement Kavishka is not the problem, sister. What will be, will be, and I expect you to be as foolish, stubborn, and self-destructive in love as you have been in all else. That part is all on you. In any case, it is an inescapable fact of the Sildar's requirements, and perhaps of the Klis legacy.
The reason I am risking my soul and the safety of this letter's scribe is to do with a far more secret aspect of Vengeance's deal with Prophecy. My hope in writing to you is that, caught in the storm's eye as you are, this message will remain unseen and unstopped by Prophecy. I cannot say much more than I have, however, because then I know my chance would be lost forever. I caution you, therefore, only to practice all caution and to do nothing contrary to what you believe is absolutely right. As for myself, I will continue and act as I can to protect you. I have many years to make up for, as I'm sure you would remind me.
Choose your own fate, Sanar.
Love,
Your brother.
.
The fate of the Sildar has always been the same: damnation, forever and aye. But few people know Prophecy and Vengeance's workings as well as Devnos Klis did.
This is whatever you make it.
(Devnos Klis made it hope.)
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Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;
But think that we
Are but turned aside to sleep;
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
- "Song" by John Donne
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This is the last chapter of In the Morning. There will be one more update for the trilogy's epilogue. Thanks for reading!