The Weight of Legacy

For the last time, perfect glimmers of sea-tinged light—long since distorted by the depths they had to traverse to reach even a location at Pikkōnheim’s elevation—crossed the threshold of Apollonia Lange’s window.

Her wrinkled right hand made lazy waves under it, her lips twisting into a faint smile as she took in the beauty of it all, the reflections on her palm. Apollonia was old and privileged enough to have witnessed the splendor of towns that rose above the waves, before hubris called the executioner’s blade on them all, ripped away all of humankind’s boons too.

She was also old enough to know none of it mattered in the end.

The world had its charm before the waves took their due, but the world still had its charm now—merely another cog on the wheel of transformation, uncaring for the lives that unfurled within it. It reminded her too much of what was to come.

That charm had been there before Apollonia was born, and it would remain when she was gone.

As she tore her gaze from the light, Apollonia turned to the door from beneath her smooth blankets. It did little to hide Niemat’s conversation from her, at best muffling it enough that it took her more effort to tune in.

Foolish man.

In that moment, Apollonia saw the future unravel before her, a premonition born not of divination but the natural way of things. She knew him as well as she knew herself.

They might find a new treasure or elixir to give her another couple years of life—they might even find a new artifact to help her overcome the hurdles presented by her faltering body.

A part of her trembled. Even if she went today, she knew it would not be for long. Niemat would manage it—he had before. He would, as many times as it took, until they somehow came across a miracle that let her live forever, let her surpass limits she was never meant to.

Nothing would stand in his way.

For a moment, Apollonia allowed herself to dream of it.

Of eternity next to the man she had loved for almost half a millennium, with whom she had traveled the world.

Then she dragged herself back to reality.

Nothing would stand in his way, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d never succeed.

Apollonia was mortal, forever shunned by all Sources under the waves.

She knew there was no hope. They had already tried for so long.

And her heart broke at the knowledge that her love would tear the world apart for something he would never find.

That sort of path would see him dead.

And there was no one in the world who could bear the billionfold burden of bringing someone like him back.

Yet he would let go.

If she asked.

Life would go on without her.

He knew it, too. She merely had to put her decision to words.

The door opened, its soft metallic clank echoing.

Niemat walked in with a smile, carrying a tray almost as silvery as his hair, with two cups of visibly steaming tea. “Morning, gorgeous.”

Apollonia rolled her eyes, ignoring the pang that shot through her heart. “We need to talk.”

“After tea, surely. Hans’s chamomile blend is too exquisite to miss out on,” Niemat said. He handed her the tea over her bed’s guardrail, smiling still. “Lucille never did tell me what you’ve been up to. Care to share?”

“Plotting, obviously,” Apollonia nodded, sweetness warming her tongue with each sip. “We will be going after your trees.”

Niemat feigned a look of horror, eyes widening. “Not my trees!”

Apollonia’s giggles were cut short by a fit of coughs, and she handed him the empty cup back. “I was serious, dear. We do need to talk.”

“Of course.”

He set the tray with the empty cups aside, hands on his lap. His legs were crossed as his gray eyes locked with hers, not a hint of guile in them.

I hate this.

“Don’t bring me back.”

“A—What?”

“Niemat,” Apollonia straightened as best as she could in her bed. For all she’d rehearsed the words, they still caught in her throat. “I have prospered, and I am content. I have walked this world for far longer than I imagined I would. To have made it this far has, by itself, been a miracle to me, beyond that which I ever knew possible.”

“Apollonia, I—”

“I know. I love you. But I don’t need forever. This, this has been enough”—not even remotely close to enough—“and I no longer wish to continue this hopeless pursuit, Niemat. If—when—it ends, then so be it.”

“An alternative has to exist. Pola…” His gaze shook, hands already reaching for her. “I’m all too aware I have failed to uncover it, but—”

“Niemat. I know, I know. There is nothing in this world I would cherish more than for you to be correct, for there to indeed be a way,” Apollonia gulped, barely keeping the waterworks at bay. “But you and I both know, well deep within our hearts, that such a thing cannot be.”

“And is that to stop us?”

Oh, how I miss those days.

Back when we truly believed we would never die.

For all the good that did us.

“It already has,” Apollonia gave a practiced smile. “We may not have left a mark upon the world, we may not have sundered the sea above. But to have lived this long and this well, it has brought me joy beyond words. If it ends, so be it—I am gratified enough.”

“Truly?”

“…No,” in this, Apollonia would not lie. “But I am unfortunately aware of how the wind blows. Our actions have had no impact so far, and that reality will not change merely because we wish it were not so. This is the end of the line for me. Whether we like it or not. I need you to promise me you will accept that.”

Niemat wasn’t meeting her gaze.

“Please, dear,” Apollonia reached to pull his delicate hands into hers. He made no effort to resist. “We have been infinitely lucky in our lives, Niemat. I will never apologize for the heights I reached, nor the joy I found along the way. But sometimes we have no choice but to abide by that which must be. To accept that it is over.”

“I…I can accept that.”

“I know, dear.”

“It isn’t as though I have to wallow forever,” Niemat let out a chuckle, a bitter thing. “Knowing my luck, the moment I don’t have you to tell me I’m making a mistake, I’ll get myself killed out of my own idiocy.”

“No. No. Not even as a joke, Niemat, do not say such things,” Apollonia let go of him and gripped the guardrail with such ferocity that the entire bed shook. “I absolutely forbid you from doing anything that would put your life at risk. Do you understand how foolish that would be? If I’m gone, and you die, what was it all for, Niemat? Who will remember me then?”

Niemat flinched, finally meeting her gaze again. He lurched back into the chair, almost limp. Their gazes met in silence for a timeless second, and then he nodded, at least having the decency to look chastised. “Pola. I love you.”

“I know. You foolish man. I love you. I also now require two promises.”

He frowned. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Apollonia wrinkled her nose as she motioned for him to get closer. “Of course, I can’t possibly be at peace without some assurances that you aren’t going to do anything idiotic. You will stay safe. For me. And you’ll accept the way things must be, for my sake. Do you recall the crystal cave, right here in Pikkōnheim, where we renewed our fourth century vows?”

“Of course, Pola.”

“Good. I want you to go there, beneath where crystal meets sea, and let the waves take my obit. That is my final wish, Niemat.”

Hissing in a breath, her love stiffened within her grip, mirroring the ache in Apollonia’s own heart.

He might still do something dumb once she was gone.

But to go against her wishes?

Never.

“I understand.”

Apollonia smiled.

“Life will go on, Niemat. Life itself doesn’t end when mine does. The world will go on without me, and so must you. Do not stop on my behalf. Find happiness again, in any way you can. Promise me you will at least try. Promise me you will cherish the life we had, even if I remain not. It would do me no dishonor for you to go on, or simply choose to slow down. All I ask is that you live on. For you and me both. There doesn’t even have to be a reason, beyond enjoying life for life’s sake.”

With a tug, Apollonia pulled Niemat closer, eyes narrowing as she smirked. “Now, come. I need to tell you all about how exactly we’re coming for your trees…”

On Pikkōnheim’s highest mountain peak, there stood a path, one made from flawlessly cut stones, surviving times immemorial. That path lead to a cave system, one of the many within the sizable city. The most notable of its chambers was one none could reach without sustainable attributes, as isolated as it was dangerous from proximity to the sea alone.

The waters were not violent for most of the year, its cycles as well-known as they were absolute. They could still bring harm if given reason to, being wardens to all life sentenced to eternity under the waves, but they could also serve a purpose, within reason, so long as it aligned with their nature.

Niemat Khödan flew.

Getting this far without attracting the eye of spelunkers had not been without struggle.

There was an eerie spell to the way up, an almost unnatural silence that followed him as he made his way through the crevasse. Sharp rocks gleamed with moisture, all from a light source that was nowhere to be found. Nothing in this place could ever truly be dark.

Perpetually cooled and scentless, the crystal cave above was a popular destination for activities, to those who could both afford it and lacked the caution to be wary about getting that close to the waters.

He’d have agreed the sights alone were worth a measure of risk, once.

No longer did he have the heart to.

At last, Niemat reached the end, the chamber opening up before his eyes. Crystals—a myriad of colors—covered the walls and all but the center of stalactites. At the middle, all parted to allow an unfettered view into the sea itself.

Aquamarine waves ebbed from above, unyielding to the forces any other body of water would have been bound to.

This was the sea itself.

Niemat touched down, even knowing he didn’t have to, and faced the waves as he looked up.

His reticence to do this, his anger at himself for it having come to this, the endless cacophony of emotion and regret alike that swirled through his being, it all blurred together.

And for a moment, it overrode every logical thought.

He could still…just not. That hesitation tore at his very soul.

Her seven deaths would take the cost to even more ridiculous heights than the sixth had, but it was still possible.

And yet.

Let the waves take my obit.

That is my final wish.

He’d thought his tears had run dry—he’d clearly been wrong.

Gingerly, he rose through the air. The emerald obit formed within his palm without conscious thought, and Niemat’s hand rose with it.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed it up, shaking involuntarily as it began to sink while still within his grip. By instinct and rationality alike, Niemat knew to pull away.

He still tried to pull it back, out, a fist swinging out as counterbalance against the otherwise unpierceable surface. So little yet so much. A defeatist calm flooded him the instant he realized what he had just done—the waves took people for actions holding far less weight than that.

The scent of brine overwhelmed his all, cheek stinging, abruptly enough that he only noticed the dripping tendrils until they were yanking him back, the obit slipping from his fingers. He slammed against the rocky ground below, knocking the breath out of him.

The tendrils moved and tightened, so much that Niemat distantly wondered if it meant to break his wrists—it wouldn't take much effort from such a force.. A similar scene played around his waist and ankles, the waters drilling into the bedrock as they spun, until it became resoundingly clear he wouldn't be reaching back up.

Niemat found he couldn’t move at all, not even to blink away from the sight of the obit being broken down into shards of glass within the sea above, an unobstructed view he was treated to until the shards collapsed into sand, taken forever by the waves.

Dissolving into puddles, the waters that pinned him down fled all at once, rejoining the sea above, and Niemat gasped, blinking itchy eyes.

For an instant, the entire chamber became illuminated with emerald light, powerful enough to daze even someone with the Resilience he had, and he would never know if time had passed between the dimming of the light and the next time he opened his eyes.

What could only be described as a reluctant warmth coursed through him.

Shaking his head, Niemat faltered at the sight of his limbs, sore but otherwise unblemished from the unwise scuffle. He could fathom not why the sea had seen fit to leave him not only alive but seemingly unharmed, when he’d seen it kill or brand people for far less.

Still, he fell back, again gazing upon the sea—this time, out of sheer exhaustion. Though relinquishing the obit to the sea should have been effortless, its touch had drained him.

The fruits of his own idiocy, he supposed.

He hadn’t the intention to dwell upon it, nor the energy to find it amusing.

One didn’t make it this long without being familiar with loss, yet every aspect of his being felt overcome with the numbness of sorrowful resignation.

Even if a part of him had known to prepare for goodbye near centuries ago.

Niemat allowed himself to go limp on the cave floor. He might as well recover here—it wasn’t as though he had anywhere else to be.

“Should we call someone? Buddy, you okay over there?”

Niemat’s eyes opened slowly. He reoriented himself within an instant, still splayed out under the insurmountable sea. “I am well enough, stranger.”

“…Okay. You sure?”

He suppressed the urge to scoff. He hadn’t the faintest intention to get up anytime soon. The ache of what he was now quite nonplussed to realize had been a slap was about done ebbing away. He tried not to think of the similarly fading warmth, so faint now that he might as well have been imagining it.

“Like, sure-sure?”

Flummoxed enough by the insistence to raise his back on unfirm arms, Niemat glared in the direction of the voice. He caught sight of three people with clearly enchanted safety hats, though the identity of the speaker remained uncertain.

All three of them flinched, and the winds told him that was likely related to the [Identify]-type abilities they’d all fired off when he rose.

“Erm, sorry to disturb you, m-my Lord, we’ll see ourselves out.”

He wasn’t the type to correct people on their honorifics when it went in a positive direction, but he drew the line at keeping people away from natural treasures. Some measure of his usual self must have been swimming to the surface, slowly. “Don’t. I was just leaving myself.”

Niemat promptly got up and gave them a nod before stepping off the crevasse without bothering to enable his flight. He heard shouts behind him, but didn’t bother to parse them.

As he neared his destination, he slowed his descent, though it still sent some random man’s papers flying as Niemat landed. The man yelped, and Niemat bowed his head before moving to help recover the papers. “My apologies.”

The man stood frozen as he took the papers back.

Niemat shrugged and headed for the exit.

“E-Excuse me, my Lord?”

He turned back with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I apologize for the intrusion, my Lord, but would you happen to know anything about someone in need of help in the crystal chamber? You see, we received a r-report,” the man stuttered. It took Niemat a moment to connect the dots.

It looked exceptionally bad for someone at his level to be all but fleeing a location where they thought there was a wounded individual.

The man continued after a few gulps. “We heard someone was in need of aid up there, and well, I was wondering if you could shed some light into the situation?”

“Oh. I was in need of a nap. I take full responsibility for the inconvenience. Is there any recompense you require?”

Niemat wasn’t unfamiliar with making amends for troubles he unknowingly caused, after all. After a certain point, it just…sort of happened.

“What? Oh! My apologies, my Lord! I’m sure you must have had your reasons, it was us who misread the situation! I apologize for troubling you!”

For a moment, he debated continuing the apology olympics, but it would net him nothing. Niemat simply nodded and proceeded with his initial plan to walk off the cliff as quickly as possible.

Did I really…?

Niemat shivered. He’d almost done something incredibly final.

It wasn’t lost to him that the sea might have slapped some sense into him, after all.

He didn’t want to dwell upon the implications of its reaction—the entire matter of the sea and its judgment was too fickle to consider. That didn’t change the fact that it was known for its eagerness to smite most who crossed it, didn’t change Niemat’s intrinsic discomfort of having been let go.

Even if he was extremely glad for it.

As he approached the wall, Niemat masked his level into the stock Level ?? option—not doing it for the cave brought him awkwardness enough for a day. This district was about average, barren compared to the terraces their old apartment had hung from, but he could use a bit of normalcy now. He paid the entry fee and everything.

Days went by, spent on some nameless inn quiet enough for him to sulk day and night in his rented room. He only left to explore the district after the innkeeper herself had shown up to inquire about his well being. Apparently, people normally at least ordered food when in seclusion, so there had been concerns.

Though Niemat had been certain he could walk through the district without attracting attention, all illusions of normalcy might have been hindered by how long he spent looking at the guild tavern. It was…quaint. Definitely. He’d half a mind to hold his breath while he conducted his business—he was fairly certain he could manage it.

It was a half-formed idea still, but it solidified by the second.

Niemat simply didn’t see himself staying in Pikkōnheim, not even in a lower district like this. There was truly no reason left, and he only saw lingering as a threat to his tentative stability.

What he needed were distance and time.

He all but tip-toed his way to the jobs board, and his hopes sank soon enough. Far too many of the postings were requests for materials or the slaying of beasts. That was…well, it would not be polite to think it beneath him, but none of it were tasks he would perform if he could avoid it.

There was also a frankly bizarre amount of postings for reverse lighthouse keepers within the outskirts of Pikkōnheim. How many of those could people possibly need to tell them to stay away from the sea? The waters alone were obnoxiously bright as it was.

It was among those job postings that he found something…noticeable.

Forester needed in the outskirts of: [Sarah, add the location here before we post it, please]. Area described as a mana-zapping mangrove swamp with little to no animal life. Hazard pay detailed below. Lodging and additional living stipend included.

Niemat’s eyebrows went up.

It was…silly. Forestry? In a mangrove swamp? And deemed dangerous work on account of rumors of fey beings living in the swamp. Fey beings, of all things! What sort of superstitious quill-driver set this job up?

Niemat had half a mind to just take the job to have some effortless downtime. It seemed to fit his needs well enough. A place to stay, to think…

He’d grabbed the parchment and started his stride to the desk before he knew it.

“Greetings,” Niemat dipped his head before the clerk. “I am interested in this job. Might I inquire as to its location?”

The clerk nodded, taking the parchment from him before flinching. Gritting his teeth, he turned to the back and spoke in a tone he must have assumed would go unheard. “Sarah! Sarah! What’s the location for this one?”

Niemat guessed it would be best for him to remain unresponsive.

A blond woman exited the office and looked at the clerk, wide-eyed. “What do you mean?” she tore the parchment from his hands with enough force that it ripped. “You weren’t supposed to put that one out! I didn’t put the location in because we still haven’t found it! We’re waiting for a response from the township itself!”

“Oh, it’s some cave town near Beuzaheim!” a third, muscular man exited from a completely different door behind the desk. “Doesn’t have a name, that’s why you can’t find it. Guildmaster was complaining about the same thing.”

Sarah appeared unconvinced. “And you learned of this because…?”

“I only know that because the guildmaster was having a fit when he got the missive, you know.”

“The missive? Which missive? Johann, do you have any idea how many missives we get on the daily?”

“Apparently, the Champion of {Lightning} of all things was meant to be there! Would you imagine that? The Champion of a tangible Source!” cheered the man who Niemat could sense didn’t have any Affinities at all himself. “But the farmers he was staying with say it just exploded and they haven’t managed to find the guy. The {Lightning} Saint’s been livid, saying he’s showing up as dead but hasn’t resurrected yet.”

That was interesting indeed.

“That’s quite the specific rumor,” Niemat ventured, seeing as intruding into conversations seemed fairly acceptable in present company. “So the forestry job is near Beuzaheim?”

“Between you and me,” the clerk coughed, “I believe the job may be reposted at a higher rate later if what Johann here says is true. Something out there that kills Heroes? The coin can only go up, so it might be best for you to wait up. If you’re still willing to take it knowing all that, of course.”

Niemat considered it. “I appreciate the heads-up. I would still prefer to take it today, however.”

The clerk simply gave him a nod. “Alright. We’ll get right to it, then. Just some questions for the registration of who’s taking the job. Posting’s public so you’ll get to skip some fees. Name?”

“Veit.”

“Noted. Are you above Level 50?”

“…Yes.”

“I saw some hesitation,” Johann ‘helpfully’ supplied.

For a moment, Niemat almost regretted differentiating Presence into Stealth. “Let us say I am considerably closer to triple digits than I am to Level 50.”

“Noted. Any dependants you’ll need to account for?”

“No.”

“Noted. That will be all.”

The clerk finished stamping something onto a card, then handed it to Niemat. The card included the name he gave, the same details of the posting, and confirmation from this guild that he had accepted the job through them.

Sarah reached over the clerk and handed him a map to Beuzaheim, complete with a highlighted route deemed ‘Safe for Level <100’. “Good luck!”

Niemat wasn’t about to complain about that last part, but he did have to make an effort to keep his expression neutral, merely thanking the both of them. After a moment’s hesitation, he also thanked Johann. It would be petty not to.

Having placed some distance between himself and the guild tavern, Niemat took a deep breath. He didn’t know whether this would bring him the peace he knew he needed.

He just hoped it would.