Page 3437 -- CCLXXXVIII.

Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Eight: ‘The Knife in the snow...’
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Ugh. What a splitting headache. How long had it been since he’d felt one this bad? He thought he’d overcome this problem long ago, but now, here it was again. Old and familiar pain. The kind that brought back memories along with it.

That made it the very worst kind of pain, as far as Jercash was concerned.

He rolled over, only then realizing that he was on the ground. And cold.

Damn cold. It took a minute for his vision to clear. Where the hell was he? The mountains?

What had happened? He tried to recall.

The last thing he remembered...

Ah.

The battle. Right.

Well, shit. That fight had taken place in Kandra, the capital city of Kavia. So if he’d ended up all the way out here, then it must not have gone very well.

Hmm. He remembered a volcano. Specifically, a volcanic eruption, blanketing the horizon. And he remembered--ah.

Gohvis, that wild bastard. Where’d he go? Showing up out of the blue like that and suddenly pitching in with the battle? It had been so out-of-character that it had actually, somehow, made Jercash more concerned about his situation, not less.

Yeah. That was it. The real last thing he remembered. Thinking that if Gohvis was deciding to pitch in, then things must’ve been even worse than he’d thought.

And he’d thought they were pretty bad.

This entire warfront had been left in Jercash’s hands. And at first, it had been quite the endeavor. Jercash hadn’t felt such unquestioned authority at his fingertips in quite some time--hell, maybe ever. With the benefit of hindsight, perhaps that feeling had gotten a bit intoxicating and made him a tad... overzealous.

Especially after he and his boys managed to slay one of the Vanguardian marshals.

Carson. What a self-righteous prick that guy had been.

The celebration after that victory had been the stuff of legends. A party in the capital city, quite literally dancing on the bastard’s corpse, then parading it around the streets for all to see. The Kandran governor-general had not looked too pleased at the sight of Carson’s smote body lying there, but Jercash and his men had made sure to correct that attitude of his.

No frowning allowed during a celebration. That was the Abolish way.

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Hmm.

Interesting.

Despite the apparent peril of this situation, dangling above an eternal pit of non-existence, Hector remained calm. Unmoved.

The emotions were not going to win. He would not allow it. In this place, they were separate from himself. Unruly creations spawning haphazardly out of his mind, trying to wrest control away from him. Ferocious and demanding.

But they still belonged to him. And he still had to acknowledge them, too. Accept them. As part of himself. Pleasant or not, they were all part of him.

So in order to bring them back under control, Hector didn’t want to “command” them--though he did feel that he could. He knew that he could, in fact. But that would be the wrong approach, he felt. Not true to himself--to both who he was and who he hoped to be.

The right move here... was to bring them closer. To let them in.

As much as they seemed to be scratching and gnawing at him--behaving not entirely unlike monsters born of chaos--Hector knew that they were still his. And that he was still in control. And that ultimately, they couldn’t hurt him, despite all appearances to the contrary.

In some sense, it was like giving every turbulent emotion a big, warm, welcoming hug. Until they found their proper place within his mind again. Until they realized that they were where they were supposed to be.

It took a long time. Forever, seemingly. He had to allow himself to feel each emotion more deeply than perhaps ever before. He had to give them all the attention they deserved, like children.

But it also got gradually easier, too. With each one being brought home, being integrated, he felt... invigorated. Even more in control.

Heh.

This endless darkness. It wasn’t so scary. But it also wasn’t where he needed to be, right now.

Before he knew it, the rope from which he dangled was no longer binding him. Instead, he had it in his hands. And with a firm grip, hand over hand, he was climbing his way back out, toward that distant glimmer of light above.

It felt like moving at a snail’s pace, at first. Like the light was not getting closer. Like it never would.

And he felt like he was being watched now, too. Watched and judged. From a million angles at once. A dark, invisible crowd all around him, rooting both for and against him.

But he didn’t balk. And soon, the progress was clear. That light was growing nearer.

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This descent. This dark allure. Tempting him downward. Just keep going, it told him. See what you find. After all, if there truly was no bottom, then that also meant that this was an infinite space. Which meant it held infinite possibilities, too.

Infinite potential.

That was what this place was.

Potential.

An endless expanse. Limited, perhaps, only by one’s ability to perceive and comprehend it.

Right. In that respect, maybe everything he could ever want could be found here. If he just kept descending long enough, he could find it. Eventually.

Hence the temptation.

Hector understood. In part, at least.

The Void.

That thing he’d been hearing so much about. Learning so much about. The Candle knew of it, too. Intimately. And there were so many historical examples of men and women searching for it. Of them discovering it, even.

And then going mad.

Seduced by this very same allure.

But there was so much more to it than just that. Of course there was. This was the paradoxical infinity of non-existence. Imagination, distilled. Nothing about it was simple.

Because the allure wasn’t just some deception, some trick to capture the unprepared or unintelligent. No. If anything, those things might’ve made the problem worse.

Much, much worse.

Because the allure had merit. Hector knew that much.

This place was powerful. And knowledgeable. It really was... everything. And nothing. All at once.

He could grow stronger here. He didn’t yet know how, but he knew that he could. It was all but telling him so. And the truth, he could all but hold it in his hands. Or--maybe he could even do that, too.

Wow.

So many emotions were trying to seize hold of him now. Some more powerful than others. Fear. Ambition. Anger. Greed. Pity. Curiosity. Sadness. Wonder. Hatred.

Pain.

So compelling. So convincing. So legitimate.

But Hector was still. He remained. Still.

Seeing them all at once like this was... something else. A unique experience. Something to be... felt. But not indulged.

He took a step. Up.

It was time to head back, he decided.

But the stairs. They were no longer. His foot found nothing to push against, and abruptly, he was dangling. From a rope.

Well.

This was a problem.

The vast hole below him was now more prominent than ever. He could feel it even more ferociously than before. It had desires, too. It wanted to pull him in.

Or perhaps... that was just... every emotion manifesting itself against him at once. Their collective will rebelling against his own.