Epilogue: A Coda in Black

Now

One week later

It seemed much less imposing as it receded from view. Kythra stood straight, hands resting atop the edge of the passenger ship as it sailed away from Riftmere. She stayed on the island for a few days as the last of the fires died down, but it was clear that the ruined place had nothing further to offer her.

With the major power bases crumbled, the remaining residents of the island were either struggling to rebuild, or resorting to petty crime to survive, fighting over whatever scraps they could find. As for Kythra herself, she had enough of dealing with mobs; it was time to seek new prospects.

She was so taken with thoughts of the future, that she almost didn't realize someone was standing behind her until they had already removed the sword hanging loosely on her belt. Whirling, fists raised, she went to her back foot, anticipating a strike from her opponent.

The man standing before her also stepped back quickly, lowering the blade and raising an interposing palm. "Calm, there is no quarrel here," he said. "I just needed my sword back."

Kythra recognized him as the assailant who captured Dace in the tunnel below the well. Her eyes fell to the holy symbol hanging from his neck. "You're the knight. You came here seeking to arrest Dace?" Her legs tensed up, ready to move in case he attacked her.

"No, I came seeking to slay him. But even if that were still my desire, it seems that is no longer an option."

"So why didn't you? I know you had the chance back there." She cocked her head toward the island, never taking her eyes off the paladin.

He grimaced in response and shook his head. "Doesn't matter now." Returning his sword to its proper scabbard at his side, he started to back away. "I'll keep out of your way until we make landfall. I've had enough of that island and criminals like you."

The paladin turned to leave, then paused a moment and looked back at her. "But if you truly need an answer, then this will have to suffice." From within his vest he removed a cylindrical metal case, which he held up for a moment before tossing it to her. "I won't need it now. I learned enough today to put it all together. Rarely does knowledge bring solace."

Kythra watched warily as the man walked away across the deck, uneasy with the prospect of a paladin on the same vessel.

After he disappeared amid the crowd of other passengers on the deck, she examined the metal case and gave it a little shake. Satisfied that it didn't seem to be a trap, she unscrewed the cap on the metal tube and carefully removed its contents. There were two parchments, both yellowed and worn. But despite the obvious wear, she could still make out the words and the sketches upon the sheets. A pair of wanted posters, each one bearing a different name and face.

The one in her right hand simply named its target as 'Dace', but she didn't recognize the image of the man on this wanted notice. Whoever it was, he had a threatening look about him, but didn't appear too different from any number of other street toughs she had seen before.

Looking at the poster in her left hand, the sketched portrait was that of a lean young man. It was probably drawn decades ago, but even so, she could tell by his eyes and hawkish features that it was the same blackheart she had been travelling with not long ago. Her eyes drifted lower on the page and she read the name printed directly below the picture. Despite what the paladin had said, this didn't provide her with any answer, just more questions.

"Who in the hells is 'Loynis'?"

Before

The journey back to town seemed to pass in a blur. He could barely even remember what happened after seeing Dace plummet to his death. Loynis had a vague recollection of bandaging his wounds and setting a pile of stones as a makeshift grave cairn for his sister, but it seemed so disconnected that he felt like he had been watching someone else carry out those actions.

Loynis pulled his dirty cloak tightly around his body as his tired horse slowly trudged through the outskirts of the region, back toward the inn he was staying at.

As his mount passed a large bulletin board, marking the outer limit of the township, he suddenly reared the steed to a stop. Posted on the board, amid dozens of other papers and notices, was Dace's face.

After glancing around to ensure nobody else was nearby, Loynis dismounted and approached the board, eyes locked on his former friend. It was a bounty poster, offering a meagre reward for Dace's arrest... dead or alive, for that matter. It was partly obscured by several other later bounty notices; evidently there was no shortage of criminals and killers in the region.

The sketch seemed to sneer back at him, mocking him over everything that had transpired. Reaching up, Loynis grabbed the top corner of the poster and tore it down. The flimsy parchment's top half ripped away, leaving part of the poster with the name "Dace" in large black capitals, still stuck to the wood.

The young man stared. Immediately behind Dace's bounty notice was a second wanted poster for Loynis himself. A sketch of his own face was there, peeking out over the remaining portion of the other parchment. He pulled away the remainder of Dace's poster, and quickly read the notice behind it.

It was a similarly small reward as Dace's bounty, at least compared to the bounties they had been pursuing over the past months. The posting about Loynis went on to say that he was to be brought in alive, on "suspicions" of various crimes.

Grimacing at his own face, Loynis quickly ripped it down as well, then crumpled the papers together into a ball and threw it into the woods in disgust. He climbed back on his horse and continued on, raising his hood and keeping his head low.

With his spirits somehow even worse than before, Loynis returned to the inn and made his way back to the room he had rented. With every step, he avoided eye contact with the innkeeper, even though the older man was too engrossed with the bottle in his hand to even look up.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Loynis made a beeline for the basin of stagnant water that had been sitting untouched atop the nightstand. He quickly splashed his face, removing what sweat and grime he could. He leaned forward, both hands propping him up over the bowl.

For a brief moment as he stared down at his own reflection, the man didn't recognize the face that stared back. After everything that happened, he couldn't bring himself to return home to face the rest of his family. He didn't even know who he was any more.

He also couldn't remain in this area any longer. After taking a brief time to rest and redress his wounds, Loynis gathered up his belongings and returned to the foyer of the inn, which was thankfully still empty, save for the proprietor.

The elderly innkeeper yawned and gave him a bored look, seeming annoyed at having to put his bottle down for the moment. "Ah, checking out now, mister..." He glanced down at the guestbook, which was open to a page with a single name on it. "... Mister Dace, was it?"

Loynis parted his lips to correct the man, but then paused. His mind flashed back through many of the things Dace had said to him. Predator or prey. I'll take whatever I want, including your name. It is far too simple a matter for a wanted man to assume a new name and identity when he walks away from his old life.

Meeting the innkeeper's gaze, Loynis merely nodded. It was time to be something else. "Yes, that is who I am."

Now

A cool sea breeze blew against his side as Dace stood alone on the top deck, watching the stars from his usual spot near the back of the ship. They would be making landfall soon, and then he would finally be done with this business.

There was a low humming noise that suddenly sounded from a pocket on his leather jerkin. Reaching beneath his cloak, he removed the narrow shard of violet crystal he'd been carrying for the past several weeks. The mineral started to glow as a voice echoed in his head.

"A task well completed, Mister Dace. As I expected. My thanks for your service."

Dace frowned. "And I expect that you will honour your side of the arrangement."

"Of course, Mister Dace," said 'Shard'. "You will find a chest beneath the cot in your cabin, containing the agreed-upon sum of gold."

Although he couldn't see the speaker or hear any emotion in the voice that echoed in his head, Dace couldn't shake the feeling that this Shard person was being smug about the whole situation.

"I searched my cabin as soon as I came aboard. There was nothing there."

"Only because I did not wish for you to see it until we had this chat. You will find it there now."

Dace rapped his fingers against the wooden railing. "And the second condition?"

"As agreed, I will not reveal your true identity to those looking for you. Why you fear your own family so much, I find perplexing."

"Not fear. And not your concern," said Dace, irritation growing in his tone. "The three power bases on the island have all been disrupted. Why you would care so much for that dung heap of a city is beyond me."

Shard continued on, "No need to be upset, Mister Dace. You have done effective work, and I may have further need of your services in the future. Perhaps you would-"

"No," Dace said abruptly, gripping the crystal harshly. "You threatened to expose information about me, so I agreed to your mission. You will obey those terms of silence, and that will be the extent of our dealings." Glaring daggers at the luminescent shard, Dace added, "Make any further attempt to contact me, and I will end your life."

The purple crystal seemed to hesitate for a beat, then made a wet, raspy sound in Dace's head, as if the voice was trying to approximate a chuckle. "And how would you even find me?"

"I know you have designs on that island, for whatever reason. So I know where to track you down. And I am capable of returning and ruining the city a second time." Tightening his grip on the shard, Dace stretched his arm back. "Pray that we never meet in person."

He hurled the crystal as hard as he could out across the sea. The violet glow arced through the night's sky before disappearing below the distant waves. Dace lingered there for a moment longer under the stars, before finally pushing away from the railing. Exhaling, he walked back toward his cabin, passing from the dim moonlight into the shadows below the deck.

In a damp cavern deep below the surface of Riftmere, Shard heard Dace's final threat, followed by a splashing sound shortly after. Then, he heard naught but silence coming from the illuminated violet crystal mounted on the craggy wall before him. Apparently the mercenary had finally disposed of the crystal's counterpart.

A pity. But Shard was even more confident now, knowing that the blackheart would be a useful resource in his future endeavours. He extended a pale, spindly arm and traced his long, clammy fingers over the shard, focusing deeply on the object. The purple glow waned and went dark, before the crystal shard suddenly cracked and shattered into tiny jagged fragments, which fell from the wall mount and drifted to the ground, glittering like broken stained glass.

Had he a humanoid mouth, he might have sighed. Instead, he slowly stepped back, and gazed upon the dozens of other similar crystal shards, all mounted upon sconces across the cavern wall in a geometric grid. Some shone brighter than others, some flickered periodically. A few sconces stood empty, each awaiting the addition of a new focus crystal. Collectively, they cast a pulsating cacophony of violet lights across the otherwise dimly-lit cavern.

The mercenary had done his part in the city above, clearing the board for Shard to make his move. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

After

1399 Dale Reckoning, Year of Fallen Friends

Twenty years later

"Uncle."

"Niece," replied the old man. A lone glass of water sat on the table before him.

Even though the tavern was empty, the young blonde woman didn't take the seat across from him. She had her arms crossed as she stood there, with an arched eyebrow on her face as she met his gaze. "Those dangerous highwaymen who have been hitting our caravan shipments." She left the incomplete sentence there, like it was an accusation.

"What of them?"

Her foot tapped the floor in annoyance. "We found their camp on the outskirts of the city last night. They were already dead when we arrived. Signs of a violent struggle some time earlier. Coincidentally, I find it strange that you were nowhere to be found all of yesterday. What do you say of that?"

The elderly man slowly raised the glass, took a long sip, then waited until it was back down before responding. "I would say the bandits could hardly be called 'dangerous' if they all fell so suddenly."

As suspicious as she was, they both knew she would never get him to admit to anything. After a moment of awkward silence, she threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "I am supposed to be the head of the family business. That means I need to know everything that goes on around me. One of these days, I'm going to figure out what secrets you have been keeping from me."

Receiving no further reply from her uncle, the young woman merely sighed loudly and made her way to the tavern exit. Pausing at the door, she glanced back and called out, "Whatever you have been doing all this time, you cannot expect to keep at it forever. Eventually, you are going to face something or someone that you will not overcome."

The old man merely took another sip of his water and gave her a polite wave, then waited as his niece left the building.

After enough time had passed, he said aloud, "I know you are there. You may as well have a seat."

Stepping silently, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the room. They locked eyes as she crossed the floor and sat in the chair across from him.

There was a streak of grey in her hair now, and a long scar running diagonally from her cheek down across her lips. By now, he estimated that she was in her mid-forties.

"Kythra."

"Dace. Or Loynis. Or whatever the hells you call yourself now."

He placed both hands flat on the table in front of him. "It took you long enough to track me down. Were our roles reversed, I could have done so long ago."

Moving in a blur, there was a flash of metal as she swiftly removed an ornate dagger from her belt and slammed it blade-first into the centre of the table. The blue-tinged steel tip dug deep into the wooden surface. Kythra then let go of the dagger, leaving it standing in the middle of the table, and placed her hands down on her side of the table, mirroring his position.

"The fight isn't over, old man."

"...It never is." And then he made his move for the weapon.

Fin