Ethan came awake, his throat dry and his lips moving of their own accord. “The Throne…The Throne…” he whispered mechanically as his mind scrambled to make sense of something he’d given up hoping for: he was out of the dark.

  He was lying in a clean bed in a brightly lit room. It was…cozy. The furniture seemed older, but well cared for. There were bookshelves and a well-used desk. Candle holders instead of glow stones, but a wide open window, the afternoon sun shining through. Through it he could see the city stretching out, and in the distance…the light.

  “The Throne…” he heard himself muttering as he sat up in bed. He’d been cleaned, and his face and head were shaved. It was odd not to be in pain everywhere, although his scars still burned distantly, and his eyes…his eyes were on fire. He looked around, trying to blink away the pain as he noticed countless runes newly drawn on the ceiling. When he rubbed his face he felt the rough scar tissue where his healing rune had been.

  He let his hands drop, a bit of himself coming back to him as he stared at the ruined flesh on his right hand. “The Throne…the Throne…” he whispered, the power and madness of Potentia trying to pull him back into that terrible cycle of hunger, violence, growth, and death.

  “You must fight it,” a voice whispered, and Ethan swung his head around to see Tomo sitting on the bed with him. His small, spectral form looked as ragged as Ethan felt. The ever-present hat and kimono were missing, and the demon was revealed, looking oddly familiar after being trapped in visions of that terrible world for too long.

  “You were there too,” Ethan managed to say.

  Tomo nodded. “I am always with you, but never more closely than when we commune. I admit, some of my reticence to allow you in was knowing I’d need to return as well. It has been centuries since I saw Potentia, and then I was with my former master.

  “The Thro–” Ethan forced himself to swallow the word. “How long were we in there? I remember asking you, then–”

  “Weeks,” Tomo said. “We could not escape. We were both caught up in the cycle. I, as much as you. I thought I’d put that part of myself behind me…but it remains my true nature.”

  Ethan forced his eyes shut, still seeing the Light in the distance. “I fought, grew, and died. Over and over again…chasing the Light. I don’t understand what I saw.”

  “That is life on my world. We are born with the singular desire to grow, fighting and allying as we may, so long as it brings us closer to the Throne. The light guides us, drawing us ever toward more power. Then we die, and it begins anew.”

  Ethan let those words wash over him, finding the rational explanation was distancing him from the experience slightly, no matter how incredible that explanation may be. “I saw the Throne once,” he said finally, realizing he was frightened to even speak the words of his own volition.

  Tomo nodded, his black eyes closing and his draconic head falling forward. “Yes, we did.”

  “It was so close. I was so powerful. But that thing I fought, it was larger than a mountain…it tore me apart.”

  “That is the one who sat on the Throne when last I was on Potentia,” Tomo whispered. “By now, it may have been displaced. I hope never to know.”

  Ethan let out a long breath, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry I made you go back there.”

  Tomo looked at him. “I am sorry you saw it,” the demon replied. “But you were right, your mind was breaking, and you needed purpose, something to fight for. There is no greater purpose, no deadlier battle than to seek the Throne.”

  “Tomo…I still see the light,” Ethan said in a quiet voice.

  Tomo looked at him, pity appearing strange on the demonic creature’s face. “It…may fade. Or you may follow it. So long as it does not lead back to Potentia, so long as you do not lose yourself, then it is merely a tool.”

  Ethan heard footsteps approaching, and he turned to the door with curiosity. A moment later it opened, and Valanor walked in. He looked as he always did, though Ethan thought he could see a lingering pain in the man’s eyes. He turned away, understanding that pain, and his role in causing it.

  “You’re awake,” the knight said, bringing in a tray of food. “I heard speaking from downstairs, and it wasn’t just ‘the throne, the throne,’ over and over.” He placed the food on the desk, then went to look out the window. “You aren’t the first to lose himself in the Deep Cell, nor the first to fixate on the royal family. Perhaps in your position it is natural to blame them, but it didn’t make securing your release any easier.”

  He thinks I was talking about the throne of Viridus. That’s for the best. Ethan made a face when he realized the full extent of what Valanor had said. “Wait, you secured my release?”

  The shield knight didn’t turn, and it was a while before he spoke. “It took me some time to come to terms with the situation. I’ve known Glenn and Maggie for many years–since they were children, really. But they would have died Hunting Flagras, like so many others did that day. You dragged them to safety, a stranger with no reason to. Then you…helped them, the only way you knew how.”

  He cleared his throat, turning away from the window. When he spoke again, it was with his typical commanding tone, and it sounded oddly rehearsed. “The Goddess accepts the boons of the other worlds. You merely utilized your own, for selfless ends. You are no charlatan, no trickster, just someone with the power to help, and you helped. You didn’t understand your blasphemy.”

  He began fidgeting slightly, looking extremely uncomfortable before he continued. “Later, when you understood the…forbidden nature of your skill, you used it at great risk, to help a friend. You’ve now been cleansed of that ability, and the danger is passed. We can move on.”

  Ethan blinked at the man. It sounded so reasonable, and it was ripe with compromise. Valanor could be described in many ways, but given to compromise and half-measures certainly wasn’t one of them. “Are those your words, or Princess Ellevaro’s?” he asked. “Did she force you to do this?”

  Valanor’s face reddened. “You have no concept of what it means to me to speak these words. Never mind saying them in front of the king, the High Priestess, and the representatives sent from the Holy City!” Ethan’s eyes widened, he hadn’t realized how big the situation had gotten while he rotted in his cell.

  Valanor took a menacing step forward. “I was raised by the Church, Ethan! They represent the only family I’ve known, and I lived by their tenants for nearly three of your lifetimes! No one can compel me to say those words, least of all for some political game!”

  Ethan had to dig deeper, to try to remember the man he’d been before entering the cell in order to find the tact and understanding that the situation deserved. His imprisonment had taken so much from him, and courtesy was the least of it. “I’m…sorry, Valanor. You’re right that I don’t understand the gravity of your words.”

  The knight’s jaw clenched, and he stormed back to the window. It almost seemed like he’d wanted Ethan to argue, to tell him his faith was wrong. “You’re my charge, and my charge alone, now,” he said after a time. “Your life, and your conduct are my responsibility, and I ask only one thing. Do not speak to me of this again. Do not try to make me doubt my faith.”

  Ethan felt the man’s pain and confusion, and figured it was a small concession. “If that’s what you want, then I won’t,” he said.

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  Valanor nodded, striding across the room. “Eat, gather your wits, then put some damned clothes on. When you’re ready, join me downstairs. We have much to discuss.” Ethan nodded, looking at the food hungrily.

  Valanor moved to leave, but stopped halfway through the door. He spoke in a whisper, barely audible. “The High Priestess said she could feel the taint on their souls. She said she could sense what you had done to them…how you’d damned them, and marked them forever.”

  Ethan didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t believe that, but he’d just said he wouldn’t speak of it again. Then Valanor turned to look at him, his eyes haunted. “That day in the tunnels, when Flagras attacked…I was sure I felt my bones break as the rocks collapsed on top of me. Yet when I woke up, I was perfectly fine.”

  They shared a look, but neither spoke. Valanor was through the door a moment later.

  ***

  Ethan ate in silence, considering what he’d just learned. His runes were unblocked, although the seals on his Bond runes were the exception. They’d clearly been weakened to allow mana to flow through him once more, but his abilities were beyond his reach. He looked out the window, wondering what the future held for him now. He was no longer a doctor. His memories of medicine were as damaged as the burnt remnants of his skill rune.

  And Valanor knew.

  Ethan couldn’t imagine what the man was going through, having never experienced a crisis of faith, let alone one of this magnitude. But the knight had stepped up, choosing to do what he saw as right, despite what it meant for his beliefs. Ethan resolved not to underestimate the man again

  He put on some clothes from his inventory. His gear was folded beside the bed, but he wasn’t ready to dress as a Hunter again. They’d taken his identity as a healer, and no matter how precarious his hold on that version of himself had been, having it torn away entirely was a different thing altogether. For the moment, he just wanted to feel as much like Ethan Bishop as he could.

  He left the room and went downstairs shortly after, having already realized he was in Valanor’s home. He found the knight in the kitchen, sitting at a round wooden table. The room was…quaint. It had that odd, lived in quality that grandparent’s homes tended to have, likely because the man had lived here for decades by the look of things.

  Valanor was drinking tea, a second cup already waiting. Ethan joined him, and they both sat quietly for a few minutes, just sipping their drinks, and getting used to one another’s company again. Finally Ethan turned to the knight. “What happened while I was…away?”

  “Much. Too much,” the knight said with a shake of his head. “As you might expect, the Church was completely determined to see you dead. This king, however, still sees you as his son’s best hope of survival. In any other matter his word would be law, but High Priestess Abigail brought representatives from the Holy City. Threats were made. Terrible threats.”

  “I’m surprised Princess Ellevaro couldn’t manage to plot her way around that.”

  “She did, thanks to you,” he said. “Among the intelligence you gathered from the Arinaens was proof of strange deaths in neighboring kingdoms. When she looked into it further, she found out another Chosen had been killed as well.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow at that, remembering Lathander’s words, though they felt like a lifetime ago. “What did that mean for me?”

  “The Chosen are also called ‘the Chosen of the Goddess’. It’s a…vaguely defined relationship, but something the Church has aligned themselves with over the centuries. They don’t tend to interact directly, but it’s clear they have a vested interest in their survival.”

  “So the number of Chosen dropping concerns them…enough to keep a heretic alive?”

  “No,” Valanor said definitively. “But it was enough to leave them open to a…suggested path. They were willing to consider it, provided you were bound to the Church.”

  Ethan’s voice grew cold. “Bound to the Church? You can’t be serious.”

  Valanor rolled his eyes. “I am that bond, Ethan. They were only willing to allow this if you were in the care of the Church. Lucky for you, I qualify.”

  Ethan considered. “I suppose that’s a reasonable compromise. I guess Savilar might have worked as well.”

  Valanor’s face fell. “Savilar has had his own challenges,” he said sadly.

  “What? Is he alright?” Ethan asked.

  “Yes and no. His team–the Brightsouls–was attacked. The Holy City representatives provided context. We now believe it was the same group responsible for numerous attacks around the world, targeting Rift Hunters specifically.”

  “And Savilar?”

  “He survived, though his three team members did not. He was the only Dusk rank, and even managed to put down two of their attackers, forcing the others to retreat. He’s taking it about as well as you could expect. He’s been with that team for over a decade.”

  “Damn. I should see him, I–Oh, should I see him? I don’t know how he feels about my…you know.”

  Valanor squirmed a bit. “He knows. But Sav is…practical in his faith. If you’d gained that power here in defiance in the Goddess I doubt he’d have been quite so forgiving. But yes, I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing you, when you’re ready.”

  Ethan nodded, and Valanor let out a frustrated groan. “Damn it all. I don’t want to talk about what happened with Glenn and Maggie, but I can’t tiptoe around who you are if we’re to be fighting side by side.”

  “Okay…what can I do?” Ethan asked.

  “Tell me…tell me about who you were in your world. I probably should have asked long ago, but at least now you can be honest.”

  Ethan gave a weak smile. “Fair. Well, I told you as much as I could, though obviously I had to skirt a lot of the larger parts. I mentioned my brothers?”

  “Warriors with a warrior’s heritage,” Valanor said.

  “Also regular big brothers, with all the good and bad that comes with that. But yes, they’re all warriors of one kind or another. But I took a different path.”

  “You mentioned something like that once, but not what that path was.”

  “For reasons that should now be obvious,” Ethan answered. “We lost our father early, to illness. Dean, my oldest brother stepped up. He tried to be a role model, mostly using what he learned in the forces–the warriors of my world. I looked up to him and…then he died too.”

  Valanor’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Ethan continued. “I was still young, and angry, and couldn’t do anything to change things. So I did something to change myself. I wanted to believe I was taking the opposite path–of basically every other Bishop. So I became a doctor.”

  “Doctor,” Valanor repeated, as if tasting the word.

  “It’s a profession in my world. No healing church there, no magic of any kind, so we’re left to take care of ourselves, and each other. I studied for years to become Doctor Ethan Bishop. I loved the challenge of it, the work, the discipline. Then I spent a year actually doing it.”

  Ethan drifted off, remembering the insanity of that time. The lack of sleep, the intensity and competition, the endless patients. “It wasn’t right for me, though I couldn’t admit it then. Without the defiance, the rebellion, I was just left wondering if I was a true Bishop after all.”

  “You’ve proven that now,” Valanor said, speaking at last. “Do you miss your family? Your world?”

  “My family, yes. My world? Parts of it. Both our homes are pretty damned flawed.” The bitterness in Ethan’s tone was hard to miss, and Valanor watched him for a long moment.

  “Ethan, I don’t understand everything you’ve been through, but I recognize we haven’t given you the best impression of this world. There are wonders, and glory, and joy, but you’ve been struggling for survival since you arrived.”

  He paused again, as Ethan looked back at him. “I fought to get you out of that cell…can you fight to stay out of it? I know you were thrown into this, and the role you’ve been given is thankless. Do you still have the will to do as you promised?”

  “I’ll do what must be done,” Ethan said without hesitation. “I won’t lie to you, Valanor, I won’t pretend I’m not furious. I won’t pretend that my time here has enamored me with Viridus, but keeping Thavin from killing Prince Calevaro is something I’m not conflicted about.”

  Valanor nodded. “That is more than we have any right to ask for, and I’ll ask no more. Still, we should discuss what that means. What do you need to prepare, and what you will do after you succeed.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in my success, but maybe we can pick this up later? I’d like a bit of time to consider what comes next. Then I want to unseal my Familiars, and get some fresh air. Get a lot of fresh air.”

  Valanor stood up immediately. “Good idea, we should see Selina. She’s been worried. Then we need to start talking about the plan. The arena match is coming, and you’ve…missed a lot of time we needed to get you prepared. Take the time you need, and I’ll meet you outside.”

  Ethan nodded and returned to his room. It was clear how hard the knight was trying, but Ethan’s mind was elsewhere. He closed the door behind him, then pulled something from his inventory. He looked down at the knowledge stone in his hand.

  “First Shield Valanor is correct,” Tomo said, appearing beside him, back in his usual attire. “We need a plan.”

  “I have a plan,” Ethan said woodenly, and he absorbed the Knowledge Stone. The techniques left behind by the demon’s former master, how to kill humans flowed into Ethan’s mind.

  “I’m going to bring down the Church.”