199 — Book 4, Chapter 43 — Past, Present, Future, Pt 1

It was strange, being able to speak to Vital again.

It had been strange the first time, of course, but now there was an added layer of melancholy to it. The knowledge that this would be the last time they could speak like this to one another hung over them.

Cale knew that Vital had only clung to life for this long in the hopes of seeing him again. He knew also that if he asked, Vital would most likely agree to hold on for longer. To be his refuge when he needed someone who truly understood what he had been through.

He couldn't ask that of him, though. Vital had waited for long enough, and the Grand Magus proved that as long as this remnant of the Source of Vitality remained, he would always be at risk. There would be other mages who wanted to bind his power, and though mages with the knowledge to do so were few and far between, they would all be drawn to him eventually.

And with the truebridge stabilizing the Abyss, theoretically allowing inter-realm travel once more... well, it was only a matter of time before more mages like Alexius Kevonan were drawn here.

The others had all retreated to give Cale and Vital the space they needed to speak. Cale intended to introduce his apprentices properly and to tell his old friend of all they'd accomplished together, but for now, he wanted to be selfish—to have a moment alone with Vital, who had waited for him for longer than he had ever known. What sense did it make, to cling to life for thousands of years, all in the vain hope of seeing someone who had no control where they went?

But then, Vital had always been fond of gestures like these. Cale supposed he knew why, now. He'd been stubborn about acknowledging what was brewing between the two of them, a long time ago. He'd told himself it was a physical relationship, that the Source of Vitality liked him only because he himself represented unending, eternal, and changing life.

It had become something more than that, somewhere along the way, and he had never acknowledged it. He'd never been fond of commitment.

And the Source of Vitality, fool that he was, had said nothing of his feelings. Had simply waited, slowly distancing himself from the more hedonistic aspects of his life. At the time, Cale had told himself it was nothing more than a change of preference and taste. Nothing unusual, for a Monolith.

He had been lying to himself, of course. He was rather good at that. Cale Cadwell Cobbs had quite a lot of practice in lying, especially to himself. The truth was that he had known, on some level, that Vital had fallen in love; he simply refused to acknowledge that he was the subject of that love, or that he returned those feelings.

He sighed, then finished his modifications to the ritual circle the Grand Magus had constructed and stepped into its boundary.

Sourcefire modulation active. Compensating for mana draw...

Cale blinked as the Gift's message flashed to life in front of him, a faint crease appearing in his brows. He hadn't expected that. The modified ritual should have been perfectly capable of drawing from him without immediately exploding. It would still explode, but it would take a couple of minutes, at least.

When he felt the magic draining his power, though, he raised his brows. It was surprisingly smooth and stable, drawing on only a fraction of his mana in a way that would keep the boundary stable. The Gift hadn't been capable of that before, had it?

Though he supposed now wasn't the time to think about such things. Cale had modified the ritual to perform a limited version of the same binding. Rather than binding Vital's power to him, it would simply bind their souls together for as long as he remained in the circle. That would give them the chance to speak in the privacy of their souls, without having to worry about who would be watching or what they would be learning.

The domain of their souls enveloped them as the ritual activated. Cale blinked once, then found himself in the midst of a dense, vibrant forest, full of blooms of every color imaginable. It did not escape his notice that the flowers had been arranged so they looked rather like his mana did—they formed in glowing clusters of prismatic petals, dangling from vines and hidden amidst the bushes.

Cale recognized the place, if not the arrangement of the flowers. This was the Whistling Grove, whose trees were carved so that they would whistle a song whenever the wind blew through them. Vital had taken him here once, showed it to him as an example of one of the places in the Great Realms where his power was most concentrated.

It was sentimental of him, to remake his own soul in its image, but then that was exactly what Cale expected of his old friend.

Speaking of which—

The Source of Vitality stood in front of him, wearing the smaller, more delicate form he often used to interact with the realmborn within the Realms. Even then, he towered a full head above Cale, his armored limbs flickering with emerald flame. This version of him had the segmented body of an oversized, broad-shouldered ant; he retained the wicked-looking carapace he had adopted during the Planar War, all sharp lines and jagged edges in the shape of an insectoid beast mimicking a man.

And yet his eyes were gentle still. That was what had drawn Cale to him first, all those centuries ago. No matter how much Vital changed his form or how hard he fought, he could not hide his love for all of Life, which shone through him even at his worst.

Those eyes landed on him now, gentle as ever.

"Hello," Vital said to him, some of the resonance and power disappearing from his voice. This was the voice that Cale now recognized was reserved only for him—stripped of the sheer force and dominance that was normally associated with the Law of Life. The pretense and game they had played in front of Alexius Kevonan was gone.

"Hey." Cale offered Vital a small smile. "Sorry I was late."

Vital chuckled. "Don't try to pretend you've ever been on time," he teased, reaching up to brush an armored finger along Cale's jaw. "But I'm glad you came. So glad I'm not even going to make the obvious joke! You took less time than I expected, you know?"

"How long were you expecting me to take?"

"Oh, a little over a year. Maybe two." Vital smirked at him.

Cale groaned. "I'm not that bad," he grumbled, though they both knew it was a lie. In the time Vital had known him, he'd had a tendency to run away from his problems, and that...

Well, that hadn't changed very much, in all the years that had passed since. Cale preferred problems he could solve to the emotional problems that came with interpersonal relationships.

"So! You were pretty angry about something when you showed up. What was that about?" Vital asked, choosing not to fight him on the matter. Instead, he led Cale over to the nearby log—the same one they had sat on all that time ago, Cale noted absently—and sat him down on it, then took the spot next to him.

The last time he had done this, he had deliberately used his weight to tip the log and force Cale to slide into him. This time, the log didn't move, and Cale grinned at Vital's look of confusion.

"Sorry, old friend," he said. "I never let the same thing work on me twice, remember?"

This was their soul-domain, after all, and while he was happy to let Vital shape it as he wanted, he could exert his own influence on the realm. It was easy enough to tweak things so that the log tipped in his direction, instead. Vital slid toward him with a startled yelp, and Cale laughed as he caught him by the waist and pulled the larger man against him.

"I was angry," Cale admitted freely. It felt strange to just say the words—on principle, he never admitted when he was acting out of anger. But Vital deserved to know him fully.

He deepened the bond between their souls for a moment, letting his memories filter through. The Source of Vitality watched through his eyes as he and his allies broke through the Red Hunters.

Vital blinked. "Huh. Been a while since I've seen you fight like that," he said, something in his voice catching as he said the words. "Without... bantering or mocking your opponents."

Cale shrugged. "It would've wasted time."

A ghost of a smile. For Vital, it was a strange thing, since his features now were more insect than flesh, but Cale remembered the characteristics of this form well. Whenever he smiled, he would tilt his head slightly, his antennae twitching, and his mandibles would spread just enough to soften his features.

Cale had been put off by that, once, but now he found he'd missed it.

"To think after all this time, you finally get the chance to rush to my rescue," Vital mused. "Think it was usually me saving your ass back in the day, wasn't it?"

"Okay, first of all, you're not supposed to interfere with realmborn affairs," Cale protested. "I don't think I can be blamed if a Monolith decides to descend from the sky just because someone tied me up or something. I could've figured things out on my own!"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Vital squinted at him. "What about the time you got eaten by that dimensional fish?"

"I could've gotten out of most of those situations on my own," Cale amended. That dimensional fish had been a bit of a nightmare, and admittedly there were a few situations where he would probably have been sacrificed to a dark god or two if not for Vital's intervention. That kind of sacrificial ritual wasn't necessarily a problem for Cale himself, but when he was used as fuel for a ritual the results were often devastating for the realm... which was a convenient excuse for Vital to interfere, now that he thought about it.

"Well, maybe some of them." Vital grinned at him. "But then I would've had to spend decades looking for your next reincarnation. It's not easy for me, you know, and it's such a waste of time."

Cale snorted at that, and Vital once more gave him that faint smile he had missed. The two sat in silence for a while, listening to the song as the wind whistled through the trees. The tune was old and nostalgic, and Cale found himself humming along under his breath, barely noticing the way Vital watched him while he did it.

"So. You were angry," Vital repeated after enough time had passed, and this time Cale caught the unspoken question in the words.

He had been angry. But that anger expressed itself differently than it usually did. The ire of the Mad Mage came in the form of destruction, and the rage held by Torment's Shadow was accompanied by a sort of cold mercilessness. The anger he'd felt at the Grand Magus and his Hunters, on the other hand...

It had been the anger of Cale Cadwell Cobbs. The anger of a man who wanted nothing more than to make sure someone he loved was safe. That anger had vanished the instant he saw that the Source of Vitality had not yet been bound—that he would not be bound for days yet, in fact, for the ritual the Grand Magus was performing was complex.

Cale had changed. In all the time Vital had known him, once his wrath was invoked, it was a terrible thing. A storm that could not be averted. This, perhaps, was the one and only time he had been able to let go of his anger as easily as he had grasped it.

"What, you're not used to me having a healthy way to deal with my emotions?" Cale grinned, and Vital barked out a surprised laugh. "Blame my apprentices. They've been surprisingly good for me."

"Tell me about them," Vital said. He let Cale draw him closer on the log they shared. "Actually, just tell me about everything. It looks like a lot has changed in the Great Realms, and we've got a bit of time. What kind of adventures have you been having without me? Met any especially clever men or particularly strong women?"

"Are you sure you want to know everything?" Cale asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not the jealous type," Vital joked, and Cale rolled his eyes. He certainly remembered that.

"I suppose it's only fair," he said. "I could use your thoughts on some of this, actually. You wouldn't believe everything I've found out about the Great Realms and humanity and the Dark..."

He spoke, telling the last remnant of the Source of Vitality everything he had missed.

Once, Cale had believed this impossible. He had believed Vital to be dead, lost to the depths of the Abyss, and even if he one day found the Law of Life's grave, he had long ago lost his chance to say goodbye.

When Vital's remnant turned out to still be there, waiting for him... Cale had experienced a conflicting storm of emotions. Chief amongst them was dread, for he knew that when he came to speak to Vital again, it would be for the very last time. He would have the goodbye he wanted, and it was terrifying. He had never been good at goodbyes.

Yet as they spoke—as he told his story, and Vital laughed and smiled and told his jokes—he wondered what he had been so afraid of. It was easy enough to fall into their old rhythm, to forget what this was supposed to be.

Easy enough to forget it was a goodbye at all.

Damien had not known what to expect when he finally met the Source of Vitality.

He understood, at this point, that the Monoliths were in many ways like the realmborn. The problem was that the scale of their existence made it near-impossible for them to relate to the daily lives and struggles of those within the Realms. He had learned from Flia that the Leviathan, for example, yearned to understand but was barred from it, and there were undoubtedly other Monoliths who were the same.

The Source of Vitality was not. When he looked down at Damien, it was with warm, fatherly eyes.

"You must be Damien," he said. "Cale has told me much about you."

"Um," Damien said, then clamped his mouth shut. This was the worst time for him to start hesitating again. He was meeting the literal pillar of life in the Great Realms! Who was dead, which was sort of confusing, but he had inherited his Legacy, which was also sort of confusing—

Vital laughed, apparently seeing the conflict in his eyes. "You do not need to be anxious," he said. "I lack the power to harm you, even if I wished to do so. And I could never harm one who has done so much for Cale."

"I mean, I haven't done that much," Damien said immediately, then cursed himself for contradicting the Monolith without thinking. He needed to get a handle on his reluctance to receive praise of any sort. "But, um, I'm glad I could help?"

"Indeed." Vital's eyes glimmered with amusement. "Come, sit. Speak to me of my Legacy. How can I help you understand it?"

Damien hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about anything else?" he asked. "I mean, you've been trapped here... I could tell you more about Utelia. And, um, the books I've been reading? I read a lot of books. They're mostly romance books, though, so—actually, maybe forget about the books."

"Cale has told me of your books," Vital said, and Damien groaned in embarrassment.

"I don't know why I even mentioned them," he said. "I'm just saying, I don't—this is supposed to be—it's a goodbye, isn't it? I don't want it to be one, but it is. If Cale figured out a way to save you he wouldn't be sulking over there—don't tell him I said that."

"I will not," Vital said with a chuckle, his words warm, and he beckoned for Damien to sit beside him. "You are as compassionate as he said. Perhaps a little more, in fact, which I did not think was possible. Do you often think so much of the needs of others?"

"Maybe a little too much, according to my friends," Damien muttered, taking a seat. "They keep telling me I should think about myself more."

"It is a difficult balance to keep," the Source of Vitality mused. "The needs of others and the needs of the self. You must understand that to serve yourself is to serve others—that to keep yourself hearty and hale will keep your compassion burning bright.

"Think of it like this." A well of Verdant Flame sprung up in front of them, resolving into the shape of a campfire, though its emerald light was colder than a campfire would have been. A conjured scattering of wood beneath held the flame within a ring of stone, and beneath that wood was a golden, glimmering substance. "You have a fire within you, a fire that feeds on the substance of your soul. When your soul is full, it will merely eat at the edges, and you will be aglow with its power.

"Neglect it, however..." The flame ate away at the wood until there was nothing left, revealing the golden fuel beneath. Damien didn't know what it was, but the sight of it was mesmerizing—yet the more the flame fed upon it, the more it disappeared, evaporating into the air. "And your fire begins to eat away at the depths of your soul."

The fire vanished, the last ounce of that golden substance gone. "Soon you will find yourself without that fire. And once that ember is allowed to go out, it is difficult to relight." Vital's eyes were kind. "Give yourself the grace you need to protect your flame, Damien. It is rare that I see a mage such as you, even through all my years of life."

Damien wasn't sure what it was about Vital's demonstration that touched him. It was nothing he hadn't known already, and yet the way he had said it—something about the fire and the golden substance beneath—it felt personal, like Vital was telling a story of his own rather than simply giving him advice. "I... I'll try," he promised, though the words felt awkward and clumsy, compared to Vital's way with them.

Vital merely smiled at him. "The same is true of my Legacy," he said. "The Verdant Flame is a pillar aspect, and it must be cultivated. When you call upon it, you draw from a source, and that source must be replenished."

Damien felt a wave of panic. "I haven't—I haven't been refilling anything," he said worriedly. "What am I supposed to be filling it with? Is there, like, a magic oil?"

The Source of Vitality laughed. "There is not a 'magic oil', no," he said, and Damien flushed with embarrassment. "But think about it. The Verdant Flame represents the cycle of life. It is the conjunction of fire and decay and that which allows new life into existence. When you call upon it, you use its flame to channel life, and so it must be fed with?"

"Decay," Damien whispered. "But... I don't... I don't like the fact that I'm a dreadshade. I don't want to kill anything for power. I won't. If it means I'll be weaker, that's okay, but I want to heal. I can't be the one to hurt things."

Vital watched him for a moment. "I would not ask something so cruel of you," he said. "But you should not hate what you are, Damien."

"How can I not?" Damien asked quietly. "I represent death. You're the source of all life. I can't... I'm not even worthy of your Legacy."

Maybe that was why he was having trouble pushing the Verdant Flame a step further. Damien had always kept his doubts within himself, but something about Vital made him feel warm and safe, and before he knew it, he was spilling his worst fears to a pillar of the Realms.

"Do not say such things," Vital said sternly, though his gaze softened after a moment. "Your father. He did not tell you...?"

"I don't know where he is," Damien admitted, blinking away tears at the memory. "He left and sealed my memories of him, and I don't even know why."

"Then I will tell you," Vital said. Flame licked briefly at his cheeks, just light enough to dry his tears without burning him. "For though you are composed of decay, without you, life as you know it would not exist. Did you know, Damien, that every Realm has exactly two dreadshades? One parent and one child, at all times?"

"I... what?" Damien blinked, looking up at Vital. "I knew we were rare, but not... two in each realm? Why?"

"There is a story," Vital said. "A tale of decay and entropy, and of the end of all Realms. A tale of sacrifices made for life to endure. Listen closely, and I will tell you of the origin of the Verdant Flame."