Jackal Among Snakes

“Do you know what’s more agonizing than having tried to gain power, and failed?”

Argrave awoke with a start, throwing his head around as he scanned his surroundings. He laid in the grass, and upon orienting himself, rose to his feet as fast as he could manage. He stood in a wide-open plain, a single tree off in the distance.

“It’s to have unimaginable power, and then lose it.”

Argrave spotted the owner of the voice. It was a small boy sitting in the tree, with black hair and red eyes. From sight alone, Argrave recognized it was Sophia’s older brother—or at least, something bearing his image. He held his arm out and called upon his blood magic immediately, and his arm exploded as a bolt of pure power erupted forth toward the figure.

Yet… it passed through. Both the boy, and the tree. It continued onward toward the sky ineffectually.

“No hesitation killing a child? I like your style.” The boy jumped down off the tree, landing and staggering. “Still, a few Heralds probably clutch their guts, keeled over in laughter at the both of us. It’s a shame they’re arrogant.”

Argrave delivered one more attack for good measure, aiming it at the ground instead. Once more, it passed through effortlessly as though it didn’t exist. It was only once he accepted the situation that he straightened his back, focusing on this figure. His mind didn’t stop searching for answers, possibilities.

“Out there, we were Gerechtigeit and Argrave, two fighters in their prime. Inside, we’re both nothing at all.” Griffin looked around. “Still… with Sophia freed, this might be considered a pleasant prison. This place was meant to contain Gerechtigkeit,” he explained, his boyish voice serving to detract none of his seriousness.

“Contain you,” Argrave pointed, wracking his brain for solutions.

“A great deal.” Argrave looked around.

He began to recognize some distant buildings, and his heart sank. This was Sandelabara. He couldn’t forget it—he’d spent so damned long here.

“This is where I spent all of my time when the cycles were over. Only… it was different. Sophia and I shared a prison, in essence. Separate in body, united in spirit. We went through the same week, over and over again.” Griffin walked toward the city. “My torture and death. And then… I watched hers.” He looked over. “Changing that was one half of the deal I made with the Heralds when Lorena threatened things. I confined Sophia’s suffering to a three-hour period. I made her own memories of what’d happen disappear. It was the best I could find in that hell, with Good King Norman holding the reins.”

Argrave walked after him, searching for some weapon he might use. “Why not pick out three hours while she was asleep?”

“Sophia has nightmares,” Griffin answered. “Well… had.” He looked back. “You may have changed that. And considering recent events, I may have brought them back.”

“Nice job,” Argrave praised. “Very brotherly.”

“Hmm.” Griffin smiled, looking back at the city. “But she’s free. I’ll never be tortured again. No one will return. It’s just a prison, nothing more.”

“Can you kill yourself, maybe?” Argrave asked. “Save me the trouble of solving this conundrum? Hell, you could’ve done that from the beginning. Instead, I was just looking upon a hellscape. Billions dead. An infinite number, if you go back further.” Ṙ�

“I’m greedy,” answered back Griffin. “If I view something as mine, I’ll sacrifice anything to get it. I wanted freedom—and Sophia’s freedom, too. I don’t regret anything. Well… I regret losing. Your willingness to sacrifice won you the day. We’re alike, in that way.”

“I use my own flesh and blood—not that of others.” Argrave threw a rock through the air, but again, it phased right through Griffin. “Bastard,” he cursed in frustration. He wasn’t willing to accept this result.

“Yeah, true.” Griffin inhaled. “It’s interesting, though, the similarities. Or perhaps I’m just warping reality to fit my preconceptions.”

“Is that a hint of introspection I hear?” Argrave stopped in his tracks, thinking hard. “I’m nothing like you. Nothing.”

“Your rabid denial sounds so convincing,” Griffin said sarcastically, then sat on the grass. “But you’re probably right. I was very disappointed in you. Pragmatism was always your second choice. Even when I told you directly that you’d need to be pragmatic, you ignored my advice.”

“What, refusing to enslave everyone’s will?” Argrave inched closer, unsure if he might be falling into a trap of some kind.

“That, and other failures.” Griffin looked back. “You can’t deny it would’ve gone better if you’d done so. Jaray would’ve died so much quicker.”

“Your little scheming partner.” Argrave shook his head. “Were you actually going to bring him back?”

“Absolutely not,” Griffin said with a hint of laughter. “Well… maybe. If Sophia said I should, I probably would’ve.”

“Sophia would hate what you’ve become,” Argrave said pointedly.

“I know.” Griffin’s smile died. “It’s her nature, I thought. No matter what was done to her, she never resorted to anything truly evil. And what I did… maybe it’s mine. Maybe my nature prevails. Maybe I have my father’s venom.”

“You do,” Argrave confirmed.

“I thought so too.” He looked over. “But there’s you. A walking contradiction to that mindset. A nature, nurtured to nobler aims.”

“Felipe III wasn’t my father.” Argrave sighed. “I thought you’d picked up on that, given your peeping tom habits. This body isn’t mine.”

“It certainly is now.” Griffin smiled. “Besides, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Presumably this is where you admit you’re my father,” Argrave took a few steps closer, preparing to punt the child.

Griffin scoffed. “I’d never let my son play stupid video games all day, wasting his life away filling out a wiki that maybe a couple thousand people even use while neglecting his studies.”

Argrave frowned. “We had over a hundred thousand unique visitors every—”

“I don’t give a damn,” Griffin interrupted. “Either way, I said I ‘was’ very disappointed in you.”

“Your disappointment is at the very bottom of my list of priorities,” Argrave said, emphasizing this with his hands.

“The second half of my deal I made with the Heralds to defeat Lorena was to allow my soul to live a normal life.”

Argrave started laughing. “Seriously? This is your angle?”

“There’s plenty of sense to the notion,” Griffin argued. “Why else would you have been so instinctually attached to Sophia?”

“Because she’s a sweet girl who suffered a great deal,” Argrave rebutted.

“Why else would you have seen glimpses of this reality long before coming here?” Griffin rose to his feet, wiping blades of grass out of his hands.

“You can’t see the future. Why would I be able to? They’re entirely unrelated,” Argrave dismissed.

“Why else would you, of everyone, come to inhabit Argrave’s body?” Griffin raised a brow, sporting a boyish smile. “Surely you don’t believe some higher power chose you.”

“Hell if I know why I’m here.” Argrave shook his head. “But I see what’s in front of me: a big problem I need to take care of.”

“Why else would you be just as powerless as I am…” Griffin looked around. “…in a prison designed to contain me?”

“Most prisons can be multi-use. They can hold people.” Argrave pointed to himself, then at Griffin. “Or they can hold animals, like you.”

Griffin sighed. “You can be annoyingly sanctimonious.”

“The truth tends to hurt.” Argrave shrugged. “You’ve no proof of this. No knowledge. Nothing but a big pile of coincidences, and a lot of good reasons to lie to me.”

“Even if it was true, would it stop you?” Griffin asked.

“Of course not,” Argrave laughed.

“If it was true, could you do what you suggested I do?” Griffin narrowed his eyes. “If your continued existence ensured the cycle of judgment, could you take your life, prove yourself no hypocrite?”

Argrave was brought pause by the question, but only for a few moments. “I think I probably talked myself into it, by this point. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not true,” he denied whole-heartedly.

“Good. That’s good.” Griffin nodded, looking relieved. “Whether or not it’s true… I honestly don’t know. But I did make that request of the Heralds. To live a fulfilling life, to live a life where I could die happily. And of everyone I’ve ever clashed with, you’re the only one who I think could endure all that I have and not be broken by the Heralds. And the only reason I can think of… would be that you’re me.”

Argrave scoffed in disbelief. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I was ten when it began,” Griffin answered. “Their accumulation of hatred. The daily visitation of suffering. The youth are… pliable, malleable. And after a millennium of that, I imagine you’d jump at the chance to vent your rage, to fight for your freedom.”

Argrave did feel some pity, but pushed it away. He couldn’t afford it. As Griffin himself had said, no matter what had been done to Sophia, she never resorted to anything truly evil. Griffin himself always walked the path he did.

“I hate all of you,” Griffin continued, and Argrave’s pity died. “Living happily, while they render me like a carcass. Experiencing the fortunes and misfortunes of life, while my sister and I choke beneath the stench of our own rot. They probably killed me more times than I killed any of you.” Sadness had long ago died in those red eyes of his. “Why us? Was it because we couldn’t be broken?”

“Maybe you haven’t broken yet,” Argrave said quietly. “But you’ve bent so far for them, you might as well be.”

Griffin didn’t break away from Argrave’s gaze. “You never bent for them. But there’s still time for your mind to change, of course.”

Drawn to the topic of minds, Argrave remembered one of the dormant weapons within himself. He could still feel it within his body, that anchor, that tether. It was connected to all other souls in the world. He could call upon it, he was certain. He could get all of the souls in the mortal world to assail Griffin and pass judgment. And knowing who he was, what he’d done… no death could be more certain.

Argrave took slow steps forward, trying not to betray any of his intentions. “What do you mean?”

“After this, the Heralds will surely come again. A negotiation. A bartering. They’ll offer you many things—many things indeed. They’ll offer you the right to live in both the worlds you call home—to enjoy Earth and the place you came from at the same time. They’ll claim that they can restore Anneliese back the way she was. They’ll offer to rewind the clock, bring back everyone that died.”

Argrave felt there wasn’t too much longer before he could touch Griffin and subject him to the judgment of the people he’d slaughtered wholesale.

Griffin sighed. “They’ll offer you the truth. How you got here, and what you are. What they were doing, and why they were doing it. Perhaps they’ll offer something so grand that I can’t even imagine it. Perhaps they’ll make all your actions feel so meaningless that you’ll be compelled to step up into their higher existence.”

“Nothing new,” Argrave noted, alarmed by the tenor of these statements. He spoke as though things were soon to change.

“Maybe not.” Griffin looked Argrave in the eye. “The strongest weapon we have against the Heralds is our minds, Argrave. Yours, mine, and everyone in the world.”

Argrave paused, wondering if his plan had been called out before he’d even attempted it.

“Take care of her.”

Argrave lunged out, but before his hands could grasp Griffin he felt a shift as something leapt out between their two gazes. Griffin aimed an attack at his mind, at his soul—or rather, where it ought to be. It was a feeble strike, but nevertheless broke past the flesh and toward the anchor between Argrave and every living soul.

At once, the full and unadulterated might of the world erupted out of Argrave’s being, assailing Griffin’s mind. Unlike the attack against the Hopeful, there was no period of judgment, no distinction between rejection and acceptance. It was simply the weight of the world counterattacking the one who’d tried to attack it. It must’ve been unimaginably painful, but Griffin didn’t even flinch.

Instead… a broken boy fell at Argrave’s feet, dead.

The wind stopped. Argrave stopped feeling anything beneath his feet, and soon enough, the whole of the world fell away. He found himself flailing in nothingness, seeking purchase in anything. Soon enough, he felt nothing at all, falling like that endlessly. The body of the broken boy tumbled through the air alongside him.

Moments later, though, he saw it emerge from the boy. Like a dying star in the night, like an all-consuming flame, like lightning, pain, misery—it was all of that and so much more. It was the end, the last, the final. It was the opposite of the power that Sophia wielded, now masterless.

It was destruction.

Soon the boy vanished. That primordial force and Argrave were the only two persisting in this broken world, falling without an end. It could be said the power he saw was the source behind all of the misery that they’d endured. He had every reason to hate it, to despise it. But at the end of the day… wasn’t it merely a tool?

A weapon, even. One that might be rather useful in a coming meeting.