After the first few hours, the wonder of the shattered library was starting to wear off.
Vesryn suspected it was just the pain. Astraia seemed to find it utterly remarkable, and still when she passed him by her eyes were wide with wonder, trying to take everything in while she was allowed to be here. They had been guided through an Eluvian in one of the city's public buildings, the whole group allowed to go, not just Stel and Cyrus. Zathrand had accompanied them, to help them not lose their way. It was no simple library like one might find in the material world.
It was built into the Crossroads, the world between, and had once been completely whole. Before the creation of the Veil. Saraya remembered it, though Vesryn got the sense she didn't visit a lot, especially as her responsibilities increased. She wasn't the most scholarly sort; she was a warrior, and a leader. Every leader could learn, but Saraya had to learn from experience. Still, even with the structure of Vir Dirthara shattered and floating in the void of the Crossroads, she knew her way around, at least once Zathrand gave a little help.
He looked up, to where Astraia was now appearing to stand on the ceiling of an adjacent building, flipping through the pages of a book in her hands. The entire building was upside down, he supposed. Or his was. Or neither were, and this was just the Crossroads. What mattered was that they hadn't yet found anything that could save Vesryn's life, save Saraya's, and they were running out of time. Each time Stel strengthened him with her magic he could feel it becoming less and less effective. She couldn't keep him alive indefinitely once the pain became too great. Couldn't keep his mind intact. They had to find something, and soon.
He replaced the current tome, useless chapters of history, and pulled another, making sure he translated the title correctly before he flipped it open.
Stel worked in tandem with Zathrand, discussing technical minutiae with the expertise of experienced researchers. They were what looked to be several stories above Vesryn's head, on a narrow walkway that allowed access to the upper stacks in the same part of the building's shell as he was in. Occasionally, one of them would decide something looked promising enough for closer examination, and run it back to Cyrus, who was easily the fastest reader among them.
They'd all been able to change back into their ordinary clothes, and she looked much more like herself than before, but there was also no mistaking the overt signs of fatigue: her complexion was getting waxy, and the last few days of unrested wounds were visibly catching up with her. She looked a little more strained each time she happened to pass him, but she never said anything about it, scanning books with an almost mechanical efficiency.
"Hold on." She blew out a breath, almost excited. "I think I've got something here. Cy." She looked up from the page in front of her, glancing around until she found her brother, then ran it over to him, reappearing on a section of library suspended slightly below the one Vesryn occupied now. "Can you make sure I'm not hallucinating this? Zathrand, if you can grab the next three books from next to this one, I think we've got the right spot." The elf nodded briskly, crouching to retrieve the items in question from a lower shelf.
Cyrus scanned the page in front of him, rapidly flipping to the next. Clicking his tongue against this teeth, he raised his voice to call to the rest of them. “She's right. Gather here, please." He strode to a table nearby, setting the book down and making a much more deliberate study of it, reaching down to pick up a quill and parchment.
He wrote furiously for the next five minutes, during which the others all made their way to where he was. He seemed to keep up a running commentary under his breath, but most of it was so fast and so quiet as to be indecipherable, and it seemed better not to interrupt him.
Expelling a heavy breath, he dropped the quill and glanced up at the rest of them. “I know what we need to do, but... well, it's going to involve quite a lot of risk. For multiple people."
Of course it was. Vesryn didn't actually expect anything they could do would be safe, or well-tested, or even reasonable to attempt. A case like his had to be one of the strangest things to occur in the history of magic, so he was just pleased there was some possible way to fix it. No doubt Cyrus had already made some adaptations or inferences from what he'd read to alter the plan to his situation.
They had already come so far, and risked so much. He couldn't stop now, and he knew Stel wouldn't either. Whatever it took. "I wouldn't believe you if you said there was no risk. What are we doing?"
“No doubt." Cyrus moved his eyes back down to the parchments in front of him. “Vesryn, you won't have to do much of anything but sleep, as it turns out. Well, and donate a little blood to the cause. The rest is going to involve sending someone into the Fade with you, but awake, using lyrium. Your blood will be a... beacon, if you will, a way of ensuring that they end up in your dreaming consciousness instead of their own." He paused to flip the page of the book, where an elaborate circle had been drawn, illustrated alongside a few other accouterments typical of more sophisticated magic rituals.
Cyrus tapped his finger on the page almost absently. “Once that person reaches you, they will need to find Saraya and free her from her present state of confinement, reconnecting her to the Fade completely." He pursed his lips. “That is not likely to happen smoothly—and it is the part that is most difficult to account for, as exactly what happens is dependent on her. Her mental state, her interactions with the Fade both voluntary and otherwise. But if something happens, she will need to be brought back to the initial location by whatever means necessary. Only then will you be able to construct a separation between that will keep her presence from overwhelming your mind and killing you both in the process."
"I'm not sure I understand the last part," Stel admitted. "I thought that the bonds holding her apart from the Fade were important. Nightmare loosened them, and so did Zethlasan—isn't that the reason there were problems to begin with?"
Cyrus nodded. “Yes." The rhythm of his fingers on the page changed, and he shifted them to the tabletop instead. “Think of it this way: Saraya was held in place by... something like a web. Some of the strands were cut, and she cannot help but try and fight further through them. This has tangled everything beyond repair. What we need to do is cut her free entirely, and then give her new boundaries." He shrugged. “If left unbound, she'll naturally spill over into all corners of Vesryn's mind, and there will be two people trying to exist in one person's space—good for neither of them. But if she's cut from the web and then bounded by a wall, it's like... getting her own room in a house, you see? No competing for space."
"But... how do I put up the wall in the first place? And what exactly could the Fade possibly do to her that I'd need to worry about?" Stel at least seemed to be taking quite for granted that she would be the one attempting this.
“The same things it could do to anyone." Cyrus's reply was solemn; he hardly needed to put a finer point on it than that. The three of them knew firsthand exactly how bad it could be, and Astraia and Zathrand were both mages, so it seemed likely that they could at least guess what he meant. “You have to understand—the things you see will reflect the minds you are in contact with. And the things you do will have real effects on those minds as well. You must be extremely careful not to disturb more than you have to. It will be exceedingly delicate work."
He sighed. “Fortunately, the spatial metaphor is actually a very effective one. If you can literally wall the area off such that Saraya and Vesryn are separated, that should do the trick."
"It sounds like..." Astraia paused, her tone thoughtful. "Right now, the problem is that Saraya is escaping, and she's powerless to stop herself from escaping. Once she's free, it could be disastrous, or it could be good. Good if the separation is something voluntary, maybe?"
"Makes sense to us," Vesryn said, speaking for both minds in his head. He wasn't quite ready for the nervousness that seeped into his voice, though. Only part of it was his own, the rest coming from Saraya as she heard the details of what Stel would experience. Vesryn had more than enough faith. If there was delicate, precise work to be done, there was no one else he would trust it with more.
He looked to Cyrus, almost not wanting to ask. "So this solution. Say it works as planned. Is this something permanent?" He felt he already knew the answer, but it needed to be out in the open.
Slowly, the other man shook his head. “No. The fundamental issues are that firstly, you aren't a mage, and secondly, you weren't prepared in the right way to host another consciousness. What we're doing here will mitigate those issues, but... not forever." He glanced once back down at the book, clearly uneasy, but forced himself to lift his eyes again. “I don't know exactly how long it will last. It could be decades. Or... days. If I had to guess... maybe a year."
"A year..." Stel couldn't keep a trace of dismay from her tone, but she took in a steadying breath through her nose, her expression hardening somewhat. "I guess that just means we have to find something more permanent soon."
It wasn't much, that was for sure. Just getting to this point was the work of at least half that, from the time Vesryn had first shown alarming symptoms of his deteriorating mind. Granted, they now had access to this place and could presumably return here when needed, but there was still Corypheus to contend with, and so much else for them to battle. Still... it might also be more, he'd said. Regardless, they didn't come this far to not try it. It wasn't an option.
"We're ready, if you are," he slipped his hand over Stel's, but then his eyes found Zathrand's. "Sounds like we'll need some lyrium, if you've some to spare."
He nodded firmly. "Of course. It will take me some time, but I'll bring enough back to get someone into the Fade." It probably wasn't an uncommon practice, here, what with the Crossroads being so accessible, as well as the knowledge to do this sort of thing much more safely than most mages likely did. There had been plenty of soldiers in Arlathan, but no one who seemed to in any way resemble a templar.
Zathrand disappeared back through the eluvian, leaving the rest of them to do the remaining preparations, which fortunately did not seem to be too extensive.
Cyrus got to work immediately on those, poking around the library's various parts for the basic supplies necessary: two shallow bowls, some charcoal, some salt, and what seemed to be a veilfire candle, though he had to pause to light it on one of the torches already burning, grimacing when he did. Referring to the book, he sketched the circle on a clear, flat expanse of stone floor with the charcoal, covering some but not all of them over with a layer of salt. The candle went in the center, flanked by the bowls, both still empty. Not for long, likely, considering that he set a knife right next to one of them.
"How much blood do we need here?" Vesryn asked. The nervousness was rising, most of it Saraya's at this point. Vesryn just wanted it done with.
“Not a great deal. Perhaps about fifty milliliters." Cyrus pointed to the right side of the circle. “You'll want to sit there. After you've let the blood into that bowl and Stellulam has taken the lyrium, she will have to cast a sleeping spell on you. I'll make sure you don't fall, but it's advisable to make yourself comfortable beforehand."
"Right." It seemed the plan was all in place, and all that remained was for Zathrand to return, and the spell to be performed. They were all still standing, watching over Cyrus's preparations. Astraia studied it carefully, occasionally returning her eyes to the book and trying to read pieces of it again. Vesryn caught Stel's eyes, gesturing off to the side of the room. Just enough space to have a tiny bit of privacy from the others. One more moment, in case...
"I guess this is it, then?" he said quietly, finding a smile from somewhere.
She shook her head. "There is no sense in which this is it, Ves. None." She swallowed, facing him and taking both of his hands in hers. An anxious smile flitted over her face for just a brief moment. "I'll have you know the Lady Inquisitor is far from done with her champion yet." She stood on her toes to kiss him, light and sweet, then dropped back to her heels with a soft exhalation. "And I've no plans to let you go anywhere." Under the levity of her tone, there was a palpable nervousness, but she seemed to be fighting it as well as she possibly could. No doubt she was more than aware of the ways this could go wrong, and just how much of it depended on someone she'd never placed much faith in—herself. She squeezed both his hands, though, and met his eyes with a sort of serenity not typical of her personality.
He believed it. Saraya believed it too, despite all her fear and nervousness, seeping into his own. He really did believe she would do this as it was intended, and he'd be free of the pain again. And if it only lasted a year, he'd do everything in his power to make it the best year of their lives, before they had to hunt for a way out of this again.
"Well, just in case—" He cut himself off, and tried again. "No, forget that. It's for no reason in particular, and nothing to do with what we're about to do. I'd just like to say that I love you, Estella."
She clearly hadn't been expecting him to say that, at least not at just this moment. For a moment, she merely blinked wordlessly at him, but then a smile broke over her face like sunrise, and she loosed an unsteady breath. "I love you too, Vesryn. Maybe someday I'll know the words for how much."
The moment was interrupted by a glint in the corner of his eye. Clearly she saw it as well, and a moment later, Zathrand stepped though the eluvian, what seemed to be a flask of liquid lyrium in tow. It was time. Stel gave him half a smile, releasing one of his hands but not the other and heading for the circle Cyrus had drawn.
Cyrus took it upon himself to direct the process, only slightly hindered by the fact that he would be unable to do any of the requisite casting himself. Vesryn had to let his blood into the bowl in front of him, and Estella drank half the lyrium, pouring the other half into hers.
Apparently satisfied with that part of the procedure, Cyrus folded his hands behind him where he hovered at the edge of the circle. “The sleep spell if you please, Stellulam."
She nodded and reached forwards, setting her fingertips at his temples. With a little curl to the corner of her mouth, she held his eyes. "Good night, Ves." The magic, like hers always tended to, overtook him steadily and gradually, like being slowly submerged in warm water. He slid from consciousness easily, Stel's face disappearing from his vision.
Vesryn suspected it was just the pain. Astraia seemed to find it utterly remarkable, and still when she passed him by her eyes were wide with wonder, trying to take everything in while she was allowed to be here. They had been guided through an Eluvian in one of the city's public buildings, the whole group allowed to go, not just Stel and Cyrus. Zathrand had accompanied them, to help them not lose their way. It was no simple library like one might find in the material world.
It was built into the Crossroads, the world between, and had once been completely whole. Before the creation of the Veil. Saraya remembered it, though Vesryn got the sense she didn't visit a lot, especially as her responsibilities increased. She wasn't the most scholarly sort; she was a warrior, and a leader. Every leader could learn, but Saraya had to learn from experience. Still, even with the structure of Vir Dirthara shattered and floating in the void of the Crossroads, she knew her way around, at least once Zathrand gave a little help.
He looked up, to where Astraia was now appearing to stand on the ceiling of an adjacent building, flipping through the pages of a book in her hands. The entire building was upside down, he supposed. Or his was. Or neither were, and this was just the Crossroads. What mattered was that they hadn't yet found anything that could save Vesryn's life, save Saraya's, and they were running out of time. Each time Stel strengthened him with her magic he could feel it becoming less and less effective. She couldn't keep him alive indefinitely once the pain became too great. Couldn't keep his mind intact. They had to find something, and soon.
He replaced the current tome, useless chapters of history, and pulled another, making sure he translated the title correctly before he flipped it open.
Stel worked in tandem with Zathrand, discussing technical minutiae with the expertise of experienced researchers. They were what looked to be several stories above Vesryn's head, on a narrow walkway that allowed access to the upper stacks in the same part of the building's shell as he was in. Occasionally, one of them would decide something looked promising enough for closer examination, and run it back to Cyrus, who was easily the fastest reader among them.
They'd all been able to change back into their ordinary clothes, and she looked much more like herself than before, but there was also no mistaking the overt signs of fatigue: her complexion was getting waxy, and the last few days of unrested wounds were visibly catching up with her. She looked a little more strained each time she happened to pass him, but she never said anything about it, scanning books with an almost mechanical efficiency.
"Hold on." She blew out a breath, almost excited. "I think I've got something here. Cy." She looked up from the page in front of her, glancing around until she found her brother, then ran it over to him, reappearing on a section of library suspended slightly below the one Vesryn occupied now. "Can you make sure I'm not hallucinating this? Zathrand, if you can grab the next three books from next to this one, I think we've got the right spot." The elf nodded briskly, crouching to retrieve the items in question from a lower shelf.
Cyrus scanned the page in front of him, rapidly flipping to the next. Clicking his tongue against this teeth, he raised his voice to call to the rest of them. “She's right. Gather here, please." He strode to a table nearby, setting the book down and making a much more deliberate study of it, reaching down to pick up a quill and parchment.
He wrote furiously for the next five minutes, during which the others all made their way to where he was. He seemed to keep up a running commentary under his breath, but most of it was so fast and so quiet as to be indecipherable, and it seemed better not to interrupt him.
Expelling a heavy breath, he dropped the quill and glanced up at the rest of them. “I know what we need to do, but... well, it's going to involve quite a lot of risk. For multiple people."
Of course it was. Vesryn didn't actually expect anything they could do would be safe, or well-tested, or even reasonable to attempt. A case like his had to be one of the strangest things to occur in the history of magic, so he was just pleased there was some possible way to fix it. No doubt Cyrus had already made some adaptations or inferences from what he'd read to alter the plan to his situation.
They had already come so far, and risked so much. He couldn't stop now, and he knew Stel wouldn't either. Whatever it took. "I wouldn't believe you if you said there was no risk. What are we doing?"
“No doubt." Cyrus moved his eyes back down to the parchments in front of him. “Vesryn, you won't have to do much of anything but sleep, as it turns out. Well, and donate a little blood to the cause. The rest is going to involve sending someone into the Fade with you, but awake, using lyrium. Your blood will be a... beacon, if you will, a way of ensuring that they end up in your dreaming consciousness instead of their own." He paused to flip the page of the book, where an elaborate circle had been drawn, illustrated alongside a few other accouterments typical of more sophisticated magic rituals.
Cyrus tapped his finger on the page almost absently. “Once that person reaches you, they will need to find Saraya and free her from her present state of confinement, reconnecting her to the Fade completely." He pursed his lips. “That is not likely to happen smoothly—and it is the part that is most difficult to account for, as exactly what happens is dependent on her. Her mental state, her interactions with the Fade both voluntary and otherwise. But if something happens, she will need to be brought back to the initial location by whatever means necessary. Only then will you be able to construct a separation between that will keep her presence from overwhelming your mind and killing you both in the process."
"I'm not sure I understand the last part," Stel admitted. "I thought that the bonds holding her apart from the Fade were important. Nightmare loosened them, and so did Zethlasan—isn't that the reason there were problems to begin with?"
Cyrus nodded. “Yes." The rhythm of his fingers on the page changed, and he shifted them to the tabletop instead. “Think of it this way: Saraya was held in place by... something like a web. Some of the strands were cut, and she cannot help but try and fight further through them. This has tangled everything beyond repair. What we need to do is cut her free entirely, and then give her new boundaries." He shrugged. “If left unbound, she'll naturally spill over into all corners of Vesryn's mind, and there will be two people trying to exist in one person's space—good for neither of them. But if she's cut from the web and then bounded by a wall, it's like... getting her own room in a house, you see? No competing for space."
"But... how do I put up the wall in the first place? And what exactly could the Fade possibly do to her that I'd need to worry about?" Stel at least seemed to be taking quite for granted that she would be the one attempting this.
“The same things it could do to anyone." Cyrus's reply was solemn; he hardly needed to put a finer point on it than that. The three of them knew firsthand exactly how bad it could be, and Astraia and Zathrand were both mages, so it seemed likely that they could at least guess what he meant. “You have to understand—the things you see will reflect the minds you are in contact with. And the things you do will have real effects on those minds as well. You must be extremely careful not to disturb more than you have to. It will be exceedingly delicate work."
He sighed. “Fortunately, the spatial metaphor is actually a very effective one. If you can literally wall the area off such that Saraya and Vesryn are separated, that should do the trick."
"It sounds like..." Astraia paused, her tone thoughtful. "Right now, the problem is that Saraya is escaping, and she's powerless to stop herself from escaping. Once she's free, it could be disastrous, or it could be good. Good if the separation is something voluntary, maybe?"
"Makes sense to us," Vesryn said, speaking for both minds in his head. He wasn't quite ready for the nervousness that seeped into his voice, though. Only part of it was his own, the rest coming from Saraya as she heard the details of what Stel would experience. Vesryn had more than enough faith. If there was delicate, precise work to be done, there was no one else he would trust it with more.
He looked to Cyrus, almost not wanting to ask. "So this solution. Say it works as planned. Is this something permanent?" He felt he already knew the answer, but it needed to be out in the open.
Slowly, the other man shook his head. “No. The fundamental issues are that firstly, you aren't a mage, and secondly, you weren't prepared in the right way to host another consciousness. What we're doing here will mitigate those issues, but... not forever." He glanced once back down at the book, clearly uneasy, but forced himself to lift his eyes again. “I don't know exactly how long it will last. It could be decades. Or... days. If I had to guess... maybe a year."
"A year..." Stel couldn't keep a trace of dismay from her tone, but she took in a steadying breath through her nose, her expression hardening somewhat. "I guess that just means we have to find something more permanent soon."
It wasn't much, that was for sure. Just getting to this point was the work of at least half that, from the time Vesryn had first shown alarming symptoms of his deteriorating mind. Granted, they now had access to this place and could presumably return here when needed, but there was still Corypheus to contend with, and so much else for them to battle. Still... it might also be more, he'd said. Regardless, they didn't come this far to not try it. It wasn't an option.
"We're ready, if you are," he slipped his hand over Stel's, but then his eyes found Zathrand's. "Sounds like we'll need some lyrium, if you've some to spare."
He nodded firmly. "Of course. It will take me some time, but I'll bring enough back to get someone into the Fade." It probably wasn't an uncommon practice, here, what with the Crossroads being so accessible, as well as the knowledge to do this sort of thing much more safely than most mages likely did. There had been plenty of soldiers in Arlathan, but no one who seemed to in any way resemble a templar.
Zathrand disappeared back through the eluvian, leaving the rest of them to do the remaining preparations, which fortunately did not seem to be too extensive.
Cyrus got to work immediately on those, poking around the library's various parts for the basic supplies necessary: two shallow bowls, some charcoal, some salt, and what seemed to be a veilfire candle, though he had to pause to light it on one of the torches already burning, grimacing when he did. Referring to the book, he sketched the circle on a clear, flat expanse of stone floor with the charcoal, covering some but not all of them over with a layer of salt. The candle went in the center, flanked by the bowls, both still empty. Not for long, likely, considering that he set a knife right next to one of them.
"How much blood do we need here?" Vesryn asked. The nervousness was rising, most of it Saraya's at this point. Vesryn just wanted it done with.
“Not a great deal. Perhaps about fifty milliliters." Cyrus pointed to the right side of the circle. “You'll want to sit there. After you've let the blood into that bowl and Stellulam has taken the lyrium, she will have to cast a sleeping spell on you. I'll make sure you don't fall, but it's advisable to make yourself comfortable beforehand."
"Right." It seemed the plan was all in place, and all that remained was for Zathrand to return, and the spell to be performed. They were all still standing, watching over Cyrus's preparations. Astraia studied it carefully, occasionally returning her eyes to the book and trying to read pieces of it again. Vesryn caught Stel's eyes, gesturing off to the side of the room. Just enough space to have a tiny bit of privacy from the others. One more moment, in case...
"I guess this is it, then?" he said quietly, finding a smile from somewhere.
She shook her head. "There is no sense in which this is it, Ves. None." She swallowed, facing him and taking both of his hands in hers. An anxious smile flitted over her face for just a brief moment. "I'll have you know the Lady Inquisitor is far from done with her champion yet." She stood on her toes to kiss him, light and sweet, then dropped back to her heels with a soft exhalation. "And I've no plans to let you go anywhere." Under the levity of her tone, there was a palpable nervousness, but she seemed to be fighting it as well as she possibly could. No doubt she was more than aware of the ways this could go wrong, and just how much of it depended on someone she'd never placed much faith in—herself. She squeezed both his hands, though, and met his eyes with a sort of serenity not typical of her personality.
He believed it. Saraya believed it too, despite all her fear and nervousness, seeping into his own. He really did believe she would do this as it was intended, and he'd be free of the pain again. And if it only lasted a year, he'd do everything in his power to make it the best year of their lives, before they had to hunt for a way out of this again.
"Well, just in case—" He cut himself off, and tried again. "No, forget that. It's for no reason in particular, and nothing to do with what we're about to do. I'd just like to say that I love you, Estella."
She clearly hadn't been expecting him to say that, at least not at just this moment. For a moment, she merely blinked wordlessly at him, but then a smile broke over her face like sunrise, and she loosed an unsteady breath. "I love you too, Vesryn. Maybe someday I'll know the words for how much."
The moment was interrupted by a glint in the corner of his eye. Clearly she saw it as well, and a moment later, Zathrand stepped though the eluvian, what seemed to be a flask of liquid lyrium in tow. It was time. Stel gave him half a smile, releasing one of his hands but not the other and heading for the circle Cyrus had drawn.
Cyrus took it upon himself to direct the process, only slightly hindered by the fact that he would be unable to do any of the requisite casting himself. Vesryn had to let his blood into the bowl in front of him, and Estella drank half the lyrium, pouring the other half into hers.
Apparently satisfied with that part of the procedure, Cyrus folded his hands behind him where he hovered at the edge of the circle. “The sleep spell if you please, Stellulam."
She nodded and reached forwards, setting her fingertips at his temples. With a little curl to the corner of her mouth, she held his eyes. "Good night, Ves." The magic, like hers always tended to, overtook him steadily and gradually, like being slowly submerged in warm water. He slid from consciousness easily, Stel's face disappearing from his vision.