Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 707: Deserve What You Want

Argrave drifted.

All of the things that had kept him confined to a state of existence had ceased to hold him any longer. Time had ceased to flow. Space had ceased to act. He had been consumed by that abyss of his own design—perhaps this was the expected result. Then again, perhaps deep in his head, he thought he’d appear back with the fused suns, overlooking the realm he’d come to call home before eventually being called back to join it.

Griffin had claimed that having power and losing it was far more agonizing than having failed to achieve it. Having inherited his power of destruction, and having made it self-destruct, Argrave could safely say the guy was full of it. What hurt far more was coming to terms with what he might miss.

Anneliese, even if freed of her stasis, going on without him. The family they’d promised to build together, dead in infancy. Their time together living on only as memory. For neither to hear the other’s voice, feel the other’s touch ever again… Argrave felt the hurt, even like this. Would she move on? He didn’t want her to, selfish as it was. And if there was something after this, he didn’t think he could.

Elenore, left to shoulder the burden of rulership alone. He knew she would be strong, would be loved… but Argrave didn’t want her to endure a frigid wasteland without warmth. She had Durran, and Argrave knew he could trust him, yet still felt she deserved far more. He wished to show her as many years of happiness as she had endured in misery. He didn’t want to be a shadow over her head—a brother she’d sent to death.

Orion, left to contend with his issues alone. If Argrave knew his brother, he would never cease blaming himself for what had happened. No matter how irrational, he would view it as his own failure. The man was just beginning to come into his own—with people, with family, and with life. Argrave didn’t want to be a setback.

Galamon, isolated after his disillusionment with his own people. His family would keep him going, but Argrave wished he could’ve helped him find a place for himself outside of being a Veidimen, outside of his crusade for his people.

Durran, carving a path for his people on his lonesome. Perhaps those of the kingdom of Vasquer and the Burnt Desert would come to accept one another… but Argrave felt certain he could make it happen, assisting his friend.

Raven, his purpose finished after the end of the cycle of judgment. There would always be a place for him, a use for him. But could he ever be truly happy? Argrave had intended to try.

And Sophia. So many promises broken. That he’d always be there. That he’d never make her sad. That he’d watch her grow up until she didn’t need him anymore, and then interfere in her love life with spurious concerns just like any father ought to. He didn’t want her to cry, not even for him. He didn’t want her grief.

Melanie stop tiptoeing about and get together? Would Nikoletta and her cat have a happy ending? How would House Parbon fare? Would the southron elves have

see. There was history to become a part of. There were buildings still yet to build, roads still yet to pave, a continent still yet

to live. A full, honest life, with all of its

where his life begins. Denied the opportunity to make something of himself there, he’d been thrust into this place. Despite that, despite everything, he’d done the best job he could. He didn’t falter, didn’t break. He made

of that long road, just when things might trend upward, he was

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other side, a world of bliss and total peace. He didn’t care if a hell, bleak

Argrave wanted to live.

want

firmament of his being craned with the intensity of that desire, fighting against this homogeneous mire it’d been subsumed into. The next moment, it consumed all of him. He raged against his fate, his thrashing will battering against the

touch tracing his form. A warm touch. He showed it his existence as best he could, driving toward that warmth with every last drop of his being… until, finally, it sought him out on its own. He felt a hand grasp his, pulling, prying, with urgent and forceful intensity. In that warm grasp, Argrave went limp.

back into being, and shortly after, space. He could feel who he was being pried from some horrible darkness by a force that stubbornly refused to surrender him. He could feel entire universes shifting to hold him down, keep him steady—not

were drawn back in to himself as though he were a magnet. All of the broken pieces of himself began to reform, reshape, precisely as they had been. All of it converged, compelled by

into this barrier—the Heralds, ever-watching, ever-prying. But as he

in his body, moving constantly. It compelled

white hair. He studied Anneliese, whose face still bore drowsiness. Between them were their left hands, tightly entwined. Before he could even ask the question, her eyes blinked and her hand gripped tighter, demonstrating that stasis

“Welcome back,” said Anneliese.

of being. It had left an indelible mark on his mind, seeing things he ought not be privy to. He was as dead as anyone could be. He