Chapter Nineteen: Out of Time

She watched him as he railed against his god.

It was sometimes amusing, really, the way these tiny creatures still reached toward the divine, even when they claimed not to have faith. Confronted with their own weakness, they reached for whatever fantasies made them feel better. The gods couldn't help them—wouldn't help them, sealed as they were voluntarily behind the gate of their own making. The mortals had been on their own for centuries, their faith sustained by the tiny scraps of magic the gods used to string them along.

Perhaps if they'd seen her kind coming, the gods wouldn't have locked themselves away so hastily.

She'd had a moment of searing fury when, despite the impotence of the gods, this young mortal had awakened from his poisoned sleep rather than dying like he was supposed to. His friends, this Vox Machina, had proven more resourceful than she'd anticipated. For a fiery, fleeting instant, she had wanted to descend into the cultists' lair and shatter it as punishment for their incompetence. She had wanted to shed her guise as the cleric Deora, return to her true and glorious form, and tear this temple to the ground.

But such impulses had been short-lived. Fury was for the young and the weak of will, and she was neither. This was but a minor setback, a wrinkle in her plan. She would find a way to turn it to her advantage.

Hidden in a corner and invisible, she watched him storm out of the nave and back into the hospital wing, a smile spreading across her face. It amused her how these creatures clung so tightly to their concepts of family and love. It made them weak. It made them vulnerable. She almost laughed aloud—this one seemed more wounded by his sister's condition than by his own suffering. If she had known it would be this easy to tear him apart, she might not have bothered sending the cult after him.

No, he still needed to die. These insects that called themselves Vox Machina, tiny though they were, still had a remarkable bite. They'd taken down Brimscythe, after all, and had only grown stronger since then. Any chance to weaken them, any edge she could find, had to be taken. And the city of Whitestone would fall further into chaos, becoming a much softer target.

Of course, she had no doubt that the combined might of her nascent Conclave could crush them utterly. But why tempt fate?

Tharivol took a few moments to meditate and pray, to quiet his mind and heart and release the anger that burned within. It was well known that Lord Percival ran with a dangerous crowd, and though Vox Machina were generally hailed as heroes with very good reason, it was also well known that high emotion made people act irrationally. The Dawnfather would want him to treat them with mercy.

They had acted out of love. A bruised skull and slighted ego could be forgiven.

When he'd gathered and centered himself once more, he returned to Lady Cassandra's room. For all his embittered diatribes to young Pike, he could not help but hold his breath. There was little he could do for her now but pray, and that in itself was an act of the hope he'd so staunchly denied. But the moment his eyes fell upon her still, pale form, he knew.

Footfalls behind him, and the sense of a spirit in turmoil, caught his attention. He turned to face Lord Percival, and as their eyes met, he saw the same understanding shatter him like glass.

Put yourself in my place, Vax'ildan. What if it was you or Vex? Who would you want us to save?

Vax scowled as he slowly led the way through the predawn streets of Whitestone. He knew the answer to that question, of course—he would give his life for Vex'ahlia in an instant, without question or hesitation. Her life, her safety, her happiness, always came before his own in his mind. But he would be damned if he'd let Percival use that to make him feel guilty for saving him.

He understood survivor's guilt. Knew it all too well, in fact. Even after more than a decade, hardly a night went by that his dreams weren't haunted by the sight he'd been greeted with on his return to Byroden: the town razed to the ground and only half rebuilt, his mother and nearly everyone he'd ever known there dead. It had stolen the air from his lungs, threatened to stop his heart. The ground had seemed to drop out from under him. And that feeling of being suddenly untethered, set adrift, with no anchor to put down and no port to call home… he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Percival least of all.

But he couldn't just stand by and watch him die, damn it.

It had been an emotional decision, yes, made unilaterally and on instinct. And had it been the wrong one, he trusted his friends to stop him. He found it telling that they hadn't.

They all seemed to be questioning it now, though, hanging back as they walked and whispering among themselves. When Vex caught up a few minutes later, even she joined them. Finally, he heard her say, "Percy just needs some time," and the whispers fell silent. Vax thought he could feel their eyes boring into his back. Judging.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the mountains as they returned to their hideout at the Lady's Chamber. Vax snagged a chair, spun it around, and sat in it backwards, straddling it and folding his arms across the top of the frame. His right knee bounced restlessly as he watched the others settle in.

They were six, now. Much better than the three they'd been down to yesterday. And Percival would come around eventually. Vex was probably right—he would take a little time to gather his thoughts, and then rejoin them.

And then they wouldn't let him out of their sight again.

"Scanlan," Vax said sharply, "if we have any chance of saving Cassandra, it's time we stop fucking around and take this fight to The Righteous. Can you get us into their hideout?"

Scanlan grimaced. "No."

"Whaddaya mean, no?" Grog demanded. "You were there!"

"Yeah, but they brought me in with a Dimension Door spell. I got out the same way. All I can tell you is it's probably somewhere on the west side of the city. Possibly underground." Scanlan shook his head. "And I can guarantee you they're on high alert now. They had me made almost immediately, and they were hot on my heels when I escaped."

Vax spat a curse in Abyssal so vile it tasted of brimstone. "What's the range of Dimension Door?"

Scanlan pressed his lips into a tight line. "About a thousand feet, give or take."

"Well, fuck," Vex hissed. "That kind of radius covers half the city. Cassandra doesn't have the time it would take to search it all."

"And they know we're coming, so they have a considerable advantage," Vax added. "We have to assume they're watching us, ready to pounce if we get anywhere close." He glowered at Scanlan. "You kicked one hell of a hornet's nest, Shorthalt."

"I saw an opportunity to help our friend, and I took it!" Scanlan snapped.

"And you couldn't have been just a little bit stealthy about it? You were supposed to be our spy on the inside!"

"Excuse me for putting Percy's life ahead of—"

"Oh, will you two just shut up!"

Keyleth's uncharacteristic outburst brought the room to shocked silence, and she skewered Vax and Scanlan with a glare that somehow managed to be simultaneously furious and weary. "What's done is done," she bit out through clenched teeth. "There's nothing we can do to change it. And arguing about it isn't going to accomplish anything!"

Pike laid a hand on her arm. "Do you have any ideas, Keyleth?" she asked gently.

Keyleth sighed. "I mean, sort of. We know it's gonna be really hard to find them, right? So, what if we get The Righteous to come to us? Draw them out somehow?"

"Good thinking, Kiki," said Vax with a nod. "Of course, the whole plan would be contained in that somehow."

Scanlan folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "We might not have to do much. Now that Percy's hale and hearty again, I bet they'll come find us soon enough."

"But we need it to be on our terms," said Vex. "We have to draw them out when and where we want them. And that means we need bait."

"Hmm." Pike fingered the amulet of Sarenrae that hung around her neck. "The Righteous's whole argument is that Pelor had abandoned the de Rolos, right? What if Percy made some kind of speech, publicly thanking Him for his 'miraculous' recovery? It might help to get the people to believe the family still has the Dawnfather's favor, and The Righteous would feel compelled to come out and refute it."

"They'll still have Cassandra to point to as leverage, though," Vax pointed out. "And we all know how Percival feels about religion—that might not be the most convincing tactic. The people might not believe him."

"What if it was both of them?" asked Vex, slowly. "Have Percy and Cassandra make an appearance together."

Keyleth frowned. "How? We don't have any more of that potion!"

"I think I see where you're going with this." Reaching into his bag, Scanlan fished out his Hat of Disguise and tossed it to Vex. "Fake them out. Even if they see through it right away. Like my dear Pikey-poo said, it's less about them than it is about the people—give them hope, and we undermine the cult's position."

Vax studied the hat thoughtfully as his sister turned I over in her hands. "That thing won't change your voice, though. So unless one of you can do a really good impression of Cassandra, Percival will have to do all the talking."

"Percival will do nothing of the sort."

Vax jumped, startled by the unexpected voice, and turned toward the door to find Percy standing there, arms folded, glowering at all of them. Backlit as he was by the sunrise, Vax couldn't see his face well enough to read much, but the way his chest heaved and his hair was mussed suggested he'd run all the way here from the Zenith.

It was only when Vex ran to him, cupped his face in both hands, and brushed at his cheeks with her thumbs that Vax saw the trails of tears there.

"What's happened, darling?" Vex whispered. "Are you—is Cassandra—"

Eyes hard, jaw clenched, Percy took her wrists and pushed her hands away. "I hope you're happy," he said, his voice hoarse.

A cold hand clamped down on Vax's heart.

Pike gasped. "Oh, Percy…"

Percy gave a short, sharp nod, confirming what they all feared. His voice was cold as he announced, "Cassandra is dead."