Over

The door of Magister Runeheart's office burst open quite loudly.

He raised his gaze from the stacks in front of him with great tension. Avarel thought he even saw his hand rise, as if the man was about to cast a spell. Upon seeing the arcanist though, Syldan lowered his hand. The intruder shut the door behind him and proceeded towards the desk with an air of urgency in spite of his weakness. He knew that the Magister would be found here, in spite of the late hour. He had been working overtime for two days now, returning at his estate at the early morning hours if at all.

Before Runeheart could react, Avarel was at his desk, leaning forward. His disheveled tufts of brown threatened to dance in front of his eyes. "I know who the spy is."

Syldan's eyes grew wide. He began to stand. "Avarel."

The arcanist ignored him. "It is Alendis." he spat, striking his fist against the desk. It was a wrong call; the wood hurt him more than he hurt it, but the pain only empowered him. He was seething. "Can you believe it? That snake. All this time, right under our noses-"

"Avarel." Syldan was now standing, carefully circling around the desk to approach his friend, but he was ignored.

"He killed Xoriana. And by the Sun, none of us knew-"

"Avarel." the Magister tried again to no avail.

"We have to find him, we have to-"

"Kelieren Alendis is dead."

The statement stunned him. Trueflight turned to look at his superior, only now being granted enough clarity to study him. His expression. His body language. There was not the slightest hint of surprise, but perhaps regret. The arcanist stepped back, losing his footing without falling.

Syldan tried to approach him, closing the newly created distance with a step of his own. "He has been taken care of. As far as the public is concerned, it was a tragic accident."

Avarel did not reply. He would not find the words, nor power to do so. Suddenly, his throat felt uncomfortably dry.

"His associates are being hunted and discarded as we speak and I will be leaving at dawn to see to that myself. There is nowhere for them to-"

"You knew." he eventually managed to utter.

Now it was Runeheart's turn to remain silent. Avarel looked up at him with furious eyes, meeting the oddly contained features of his old friend. The advice of the High Priestess regarding stress and strenuous activity was whispered in his mind, but not loudly enough.

"You knew!" he hissed, unable to hold back.

"Avarel, I-"

The arcanist's fist flew into the face of his Magister in a manner most unprofessional, not befitting the ancient race of the Sin'dorei. None of that mattered at the moment. Everything was as good as a blur. Suddenly, pain claimed Trueflight's chest. He stumbled back and raised his hand, coughing into it. No clots of blood escaped his lips this time.

Having been struck, Syldan reached to his cheek, rubbing it. His diadem was now on the floor, shaken by the impact. He did not react for it, but instead turned to the furious man. "Contain yourself. Your health-"

"My health!" Trueflight exclaimed furiously. "Did you know that this eel was poisoning me? Did you? For how long," he demanded. "how long have you known, Syldan? For how long have you let this snake by my side while knowing he was working for Ravenfall?"

"Do you think I wanted that?" the Magister eventually burst. It was his turn to strike the desk, his rings scratching the surface. "Do you think I wanted to lose another to this, you of all? But what was I supposed to do?" Regret washed over his tone as he yelled. "Suddenly remove him from the post where I assigned him for no reason at all? Let him be alarmed and run to cause further headaches for us to deal with? Kill more? I had to hold out till the day this petty insect would perish at all costs. For the good of this Spire. Of this Kingdom. This is the way and you know it."

Avarel collapsed on his knees, feeling numb. Syldan was right. It was indeed the Spire's way to weave webs of secrecy when so much was at stake. He set his head against the desk, fingers rushing through his chestnut mane. "I... Forgive me." was all he managed to utter.

Syldan lowered himself beside his old friend, setting a hand on his shoulder. "I am the one who should seek forgiveness." he spoke calmly, managing to contain himself for once more. "Yet we know all of his associates. They are being chased as we speak." As if sensing that it was not enough, he added. "It is over, Avarel."

Over. So why was the sense of finality absent? Why was relief so minute? "No." he whispered. "It is not over. Not until we bring the girl back."

"That is not up to us, my friend." the Magister replied. "Those who can help her are already seeing to it."

At that moment, Avarel did not realise exactly what had been said in order to pry further. He simply shook his head. "We can beyond the binding. Amnesty."

"I have already pushed for-"

"And expanding our reach."

Syldan furrowed his black eyebrows. "What do you have in mind?"

"I have been approached by High Priestess Dawncaster." he replied. "She vouches for the girl and wishes to be present in the interrogation along with her associate." The arcanist hesitated for a moment, then added. "We should include them in the assembly as well."

Runeheart sighed softly. "The others will not appreciate this."

"I care not if they will." Avarel stated dryly, raising his chin. "This is our case. Yours, mine, Xoriana's and Morrowsun's. Even he will not dare oppose a High Priestess, nor can I imagine him eager to do so. The rest do not matter. They simply listen and nod."

"By the Sun..." the Magister mumbled.

"Grant her and her associate authorization for everything. Bar no path."

"Avarel-"

"She saved my life, Syldan." the arcanist spoke. "I owe her this. And we owe Emberdale."

Their eyes met. Locked, green against green, the two engaged in a battle of wills. They were not superior and inferior at that moment, but two old friends. Two Sin'dorei who trusted each other.

"I will do what I can. High Priestess Dawncaster." he repeated, committing the name to memory. "And the associate's?"

"An Eraevin Blackwood."

Syldan winced at the sound of the name and averted his gaze. A cough escaped his lips as he eventually rose, offering his hand to the arcanist. "And what then, Avarel?" he asked as the other accepted the aid and rose with him. "Once the girl is saved, once we have done right by Emberdale, will you eventually forgive yourself?"

The question stunned Trueflight; he had no answer to it. A chilling cold enveloped him, one caused by no shadow other than that of his sin. He looked at Syldan, only to think of another elf in his place. His hand reached into his robe, to the bulging insignia treasured close to his chest as the Magister's voice was heard again.

"Will you finally be free?"