Jackal Among Snakes

One afternoon—or whenever, given the lack of insight that Argrave truly had on the flow of time—the Alchemist simply declared, “It’s done.”

“What’s done?” Argrave asked absently, absorbed in a book.

“The Blessing of Supersession is nullified.” The Alchemist rose up to his great height, and the stagnant abode shifted around him. It coalesced back into a staff, leaving Argrave and all his things scattered on grass. The Alchemist gripped a rod of obsidian, standing tall and alone.

Argrave shifted around uneasily, so abruptly thrust back into the world. The sun had not quite risen, but even still the light somewhat stung his eyes. He looked around, seeing vast ruins in every direction. They were on a strangely flat plateau overgrown with grass, and Argrave looked around at a wild land.

Argrave rose to his feet stiffly, grabbing the piles of things that had been dropped carelessly to the ground with the Alchemist’s hasty nullification. “Some things could use more ceremony…” he muttered, hastily putting all of his garments back on. Still, things were strangely quiet. He started to look at this place closer.

He saw signs of human life, true. But it was all old, decrepit, and lost. Nature had reclaimed entire cities. It was a wild place where only vegetation seemed to reign. The only wildlife that Argrave heard were bugs. As the pieces started to come together, the confirmation came.

“This is the place that the Smiling Raven claimed, all those years ago…” the Alchemist explained, himself looking out across the land. “That’s this continent. Humans are resettling this land on the coast, ignorant of what occurred here, but here, deep inland, none exist. There’s only nature.”

Argrave slowly walked up to him, then set the things he was carrying down to better look at it. “How do you… cope with all of this?” Silence was his answer for a long time, and he looked up at the towering mortal champion of Hause. He had grown bold enough to be honest. “You’ve killed more than just about anyone I can imagine. Seeing how you treat others, seeing the things that you’re capable of in that form… I catch myself wondering if you honestly even care. No—if you even can care.”

The Alchemist didn’t even look at Argrave, just watched the vivacious landscape. “Even if I told you, what would you do with your new knowledge? We have set on a path neither can step away from.”

“How much of what you’ve learned do you actually use?” Argrave posed rhetorically. “I just want to know. But that doesn’t mean I’ll do anything with that knowledge.”

“Hmm,” the Alchemist returned, then stabbed the staff of obsidian deep into the earth. It morphed into a flat platform that rose up beneath Argrave’s feet, and then two chairs took shape facing the largest of the cities. “Then… sit, and listen.”

Argrave was a little shocked, but he kept that inside as he obeyed mutely.

“When I absorbed people inside of myself… potentiation, as is the official term… I ceased to be myself,” he looked at Argrave. His face was far removed from what Argrave remembered it—there was no gray skin, and his nose had returned. It was… human, even. It was Raven.

“So you waive all responsibility?” Argrave pressed.

Raven looked back at the city. “Memories, aspirations, traumas; I inherit it all from the one who I consume. I was ignorant of that. The first man I took unto myself was just some thug. A lowly murderer. It was meant to be a test, an experiment that would end the life of a man who did not deserve to live. And a man like that became half of me,” he looked at Argrave. “The crude life he’d lived. The injustices he felt. The… base, primal violence he found himself driven to. None operate without some sort of engine, Argrave. The man who is a lowly killer is still a man, just the same as the king sitting upon his throne. And with that man as half of me, it spiraled until it was what you see. Before long, it ascended beyond man. Deer, cows, elephants, insects—I subsumed anything and everything that was alive, until I became nothing more than an expression of life itself. Hunger. I was hunger that fed on itself to grow infinitely, just like Hause said.”

Argrave crossed his arms. “If that were true, why was Hause preserved like that?”

“Because to some extent, I was in control,” Raven looked up at the purest blue sky that Argrave had seen. “Only I had become someone else. Someone different. As it grew onward and upward, this unified entity of mortality, I experienced for myself the full breadth of life. They… we…” He grasped at his head. “I reveled in what I had become. The depth of experience, of knowledge. The Smiling Raven thought that what he did was a gift, but he also hated that people were free of him. It was a hunger to share, and also to potentiate.”

The changes of how the Alchemist referred to himself confused Argrave. He fidgeted in his seat, beholding the city. At the end of the day… this city had regrown, returned. It was just without life, without people. Life, by its very nature, was hunger. The Smiling Raven had been that in its extremes. He could understand that, at the very least. As for Raven’s actions…

“I don’t think I’ll ever really understand it,” Argrave voiced his thoughts honestly. “How could I? That thing… it’s incomprehensible. But there’s one thing I think it’s important I know.” He turned in the chair until he looked at the Alchemist alone. “How did you survive? And what are you, really?”

“You inquired how I cope with this,” Raven continued. “And if I even care. It is a fair question. Just as you find it impossible to do what I have done, you likely find it equally difficult to entertain the idea of persisting with the guilt in your mind.”

Argrave nodded. “Yeah. But when you talk about me like these feelings are foreign things…”

“The Smiling Raven died—you saw its corpse. Yet I lived.” He looked at Argrave. “To put it more accurately, great parts of me died. That was the price of my life—cutting myself off from the fundamental aspects of life that caused the Smiling Raven to flourish. Cutting off the malignancies of the mortal existence. Malice is generally born from a longing for missing pleasure, and so I had to kill everything that makes life worth living. There is no joy. There are few desires, only those I allowed to cultivate—stopping Gerechtigkeit among them.

“Then, to answer your question. Do I care about what I’ve done? I… want to.” Raven let silence hang for a few moments. “I can’t.”

“Could you gain back what you lost?” Argrave pressed.

“Yes. I imagine that potentiating another normal human would be the catalyst for the awakening of the Smiling Raven. Alternatively… if Hause were to die… I imagine I would change in ways I cannot predict as her blessing wears off.” He looked over at Argrave. “There. You have your explanations, because you finally deserved them.” His face shifted away, the skin graying and the nose fading. He was only the Alchemist once again.

As Argrave pondered this conundrum, a hand burst free from the Alchemist’s chest with a golden chain wrapped around it. Argrave watched it curiously, and when it neared, the fingers unclenched to allow a black gem to fall. It dangled on the chain. It was as brilliant as a diamond, though black as an abyss.

“This was your Blessing of Supersession. Now, I have remade it into a defensive artifact that interfaces directly with your undying soul.” He lowered it slowly, and Argrave took it into his hands. “It will protect you from all manner of illusions, mental warfare, and other such interference. Never again will you be subject to the whims of a god. Your mind is a fortress. It should aid in using the Domain of Law, furthermore.” He slowly unwound his hand from the chain, and it fell fully into Argrave’s grasp. It was a surprisingly dazzling necklace, considering its maker.

As Argrave looked at it, the Alchemist said, “And most importantly… it can contain me.”

“What?” Argrave looked up at him, eyes wide.

“There may come a time when you have no further need of the Alchemist. Instead, the brutality of the Smiling Raven will serve you best,” the Alchemist said dispassionately. “That gemstone is a perfection of the bauble that entrapped Hause and her court. Should you will it, you can place me inside of that, and release me as you will. Let us call it the Ravenstone.”

Argrave clenched the black gemstone tight. It was about the size of his largest knuckle, somewhat flat, and brilliantly cut in the shape of an oval. As he turned it, he seemed to peer into another universe. He could barely turn his gaze away from it and ask, “You’re giving me the keys to your existence.”

“It is the fruit of your continued trust in me. And my lack of trust in myself, now that Hause is loosed and old memories flood daily.” He looked to the ruined city. “I never intended to trap Hause in that bauble. It was always meant to contain me, instead. I wanted to give it to Sonia. I wanted to let her decide how my fell power was used.” He shook his head. “A foolish decision, but I was stupid then. Of all I have seen, you are best suited to use it. And should you perish, Anneliese or Elenore will inherit it—less ideal, but suitable bearers both.”

Argrave swallowed nervously. “What if I’m not? What if I betray you?”

The Alchemist looked at him. “I have torn you apart and put you back together more times than can be counted. I know you, Argrave. You will not betray me. You alone are entitled to it.” He stood. “Now, rise. We return.”

Argrave stood a little flabbergasted, and the Alchemist called back the obsidian platform until he once again bore his staff. Argrave undid the necklace’s clasp, then put it behind his neck and shut it again. He gazed at the black oval gemstone, the Ravenstone. As the implications of its design hit him, he let it hang from his neck with a bitter pride. He could feel its power in his being, like a cool spring preventing all interference. He quickly gathered up his things, mind still whirling with all that he had learned. The Alchemist put his hand upon Argrave, cast [Worldstrider]…

And they came, once again, to Blackgard.