Tai’s hands stilled on the ship’s wheel as her crew fell asleep once more. The days were stretching out into weeks on the journey to the next island, but still there was no disorder amongst the band. The pirates beneath her control moved willingly under her command, never pausing to ask why or where or what they were doing here. There was a need for them, and so here they were.
The giant, Ka, was the last one out for the night. He carried a lantern as he stopped by Tai’s position once more for the night. With a gentle yawn, he tucked himself into a corner and began to put out the light.
“You’re staying up, then? Again?” he asked.
Tai nodded, hands still steady on the wheel. “I’ll keep us on course.”
“Maybe getting blown off-course wouldn’t be so bad,” Ka said plainly. “We need to replenish supplies, and we’re still far from our destination if the maps are right. Leaving the ship unmanned would beach us sooner, plus you’d be able to get some rest…”
“Goodnight Ka.”
Ka paused for a moment, looking up in surprise, but sighed and shuffled back down to the lower quarters of the ship. Tai kept her gaze ahead, fixed on the horizon. No stars shone, but she hadn’t let her grip stray from pointing Eastward since they had last consulted the map. So long as her stance stayed sure, they would continue towards the next floating isles with no issues.
Her eyes began to strain as the night went on, glazing over and becoming chilled as she stared ahead. The cloud cover in the sky swayed between hues of blues and greys, warping in and out of her sight. Even far away from her companions, Tai still felt the Nine of the North as their minds brushed against her own. They grew quieter and quieter, drifting away into the night’s silence, though she didn’t understand why at first.
But with a soft fade the sky began to shift into the colors of the sunset once more, as if time itself had been reverse. A hazy fog drifted and consumed the boat. The clouds fell low, leaving nothing but a tunnel towards the rising sun, and lighting up in pale red light. The red sun on the horizon was broken by a lone figure’s silhouette.
Tai watched, hands still firm on the wheel, as the Red Monk walked his way over to her vessel. His feet made solid contact with the water, but it refused to pull him into its grasp. The red light made the depths of the ocean turn blood red, and as the monk finally stepped into her boat, he stained the wood paneling with his feet.
She paused a moment, unsure of how to proceed. He watched her curiously, but at ease. With a confused glance down at her hands, Tai let go of the wheel. She took a step back with a deep breath, then exhaled and began down the steps that led to the boat’s lower level. She stopped just a few feet shy of the monk, where she paused again. Tai searched her father’s eyes for any sort of anger, but the Red Monk was as inscrutable and regal as ever. Letting the last of her discomfort slip away, Tai motioned to the bench alongside the side of the boat.
“Please, rest,” she asked. “I will bring some salted fish and water.”
The Red Monk sat, but waved his hand, “You will not bring me food.”
Tai tried to remain inscrutable as well, but the Red Monk always knew what questions laid on the tongues of those who came before him. With a pointed look, he folded his legs and straightened the hem of his robe.
“You will not bring me food because you have none. Your rations were pillaged by the birdling this morning. You have not eaten all day because you have lost track of the time.”
Tai did not respond, but rather continued staring at the man. She did not feel hunger, but thinking about it made her realize that her memories had become muddled. The Red Monk raised an eyebrow in amusement as Tai’s brow furrowed.
“Sit.”
Closing her eyes, Tai stepped forward and sat alongside her father on the bench. She kept them shut and tried to stay as still as possible, but she could feel the Red Monk’s gaze on her. She could feel the absence of the Nine, and in their place, one of the most powerful mortal creatures in all the realms. Even in this state of unknowing, she could feel the question sitting on the tip of his tongue before he asked it.
“Who are you?”
Tai sat straight and still, eyes still closed. “I am your daughter.”
“Two of my daughters are in chains,” the man replied. “The third killed herself. Who are you?”
Tai bit back the bitter taste in her mouth, trying to maintain her composure. He could feel her father’s eyes boring into her skull, demanding the truth. She was never quite sure whether it was magic or something else which made the man as powerful as he was in these matters. It was palpable, though. It demanded from her.
“I am your daughter,” she said in a raspy voice. “My sisters are in chains. I escaped.”
A brilliant red light cut through Tai’s vision even as she pressed her eyelids closed. The light stabbed through her skull in a powerful headache, with visions of eyes clouding her mind.
“You escaped,” the Red Monk repeated. “That word is incorrect.”
“I tried,” Tai explained, clutching at the wooden bench beneath her. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Maragan told me to wait longer, that help would come, but it didn’t. She’s still there, waiting for us to come spare her, but it’ll take so damned long! And Shan, she wanted to break free right away, but it was impossible! She tried to come after me, and she- she-“
The red light began to die away from Tai’s head, slowly fading back to the calm atmosphere she tried to conjure for herself. She didn’t dare open her eyes, but the demanding press of sorcery had eased. She almost laughed at how quickly the words flowed from her mouth. Hadn’t she been the composed one? Capable of holding herself quietly and calmly? Here, sitting beside the Red Monk, she just felt as though she was finally fighting the rising panic within her, and failing.
“I knew they were wrong, both of them,” Tai continued. “I knew they were wrong, but I had never known them to be wrong. It was always everyone that was wrong, or everyone that was right. I had never been distinct from those two, and once I was, I was powerless. I gained my freedom at the point where I was bound in chains, tortured for crimes I did not commit… I knew that there was only one way to ensure my freedom.”
Tai paused, unsure of how to proceed, but the red light lurked in her mind, circling like a serpent, demanding truth. The Red Monk waited, not responding to the haste in his daughter’s tone. Tai felt herself spill over slowly, like water being poured from a jug. She did not want these words to be said, but if it must come rushing out then she would do so as elegantly as possible. It was the only control she could muster.
“Three daughters, united in one mind, and suddenly I was simply a person. I was alone, and it was as intoxicating as it was excruciating. I felt the clarity of choice like I had never felt before, but I felt the longing of my sisters, the sting of my own betrayal. I felt Speilascor’s magic burrow into my skin and this time I had no one to bear my pain beside me. I lost hope, but I had to take advantage of that one moment, that one second of being myself, lest I lose it forever. So I made my first decision, my final decision.”
The snake of red light withdrew from her mind completely, and Tai paused before opening her eyes. The Red Monk sat idly beside her, but he wrung his hands slowly. In the crow’s feet by his eyes, she could see his concern. A rare sight, possibly a front.
“How did you do it, then?”
Tai took a nervous gulp. “Lady Parhelion’s song had loosened our chains. Not much, but enough for us to be freed from complete immobilization. I could not move my hands or legs, but my head was not bound. I inched my way over to the wall, and I slammed my skull against the cobblestone until I lost consciousness. And then, I did it again. And again, and again, until I ceased to be.”
“But this was not your desire.”
Tai shook her head. “My body was dead, but my spirit was trapped. I fell through the giant’s realm, still caught in his grasp but beyond his control or care. I just fell forever, into a world of darkness. My mind reached out, tried to grab hold of something, anything, but all I found were facsimiles of life. I journeyed from body to body, life to life, taking control of whoever or whatever I could, but it was always futile. I was long-gone, and in all of those dreams of mine I never found any light in that darkness.”
She stopped, looking over to her lantern. “I think I went mad. I think we all did.”
The Red Monk looked over at her with a bit of curiosity, and then at her staff. Dean Horndale had carved a decent new weapon for her, but it was still crude and unpolished. Splinters of wood stuck out from the sides of the carve, and the lantern which hung from it was rusty from sitting out in the city during torrential rains. It hurt her hands to use the staff, and the light was difficult to maintain, but she kept it all the same.
“You will not have my approval for your decision,” the Red Monk said. “For that is what you desire, to be told this was the only way, and that you are not at fault. You want to believe that to be independent is to make choices such as these. To crack your skull open because it is your skull, and others wish for it to stay intact.”
Tai bowed her head.
“Barring that, your next hope is that I would tell you life would have continued, even if you had not returned as one of the Reborn. You wish for me to be callous and cold, to say that there would have been no funeral for someone who is not even their own person. You want me to assure you that your sisters would have moved on in time, and that the world would have continued as usual. But the fact of the matter is that the world is made of people, Tai, and time and history are shaped by the presence and actions of those within. Take away a soul from existence, and you alter all of the known universe. You create a world which that person can never continue their path to influencing others, and you remove the part of yourself which has embedded itself into the hearts and minds of everyone you’ve met.”
The Red Monk stood slowly, pushing himself off the bench in a heavy movement. The wood of the bench crumbled like wet sand beneath his touch, distracting Tai.
“No salutes for your surrender, nothing noble in your fate… what have you done, daughter?”
He stood in silence, facing away from her. Tai opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The boat continued to lurch gently in the swaying pale waves, but Tai’s own disorientation robbed her of the feeling.
“Had I listened when Snowdog first told me the Nine were despondent, perhaps I could have prevented you from walking this path. I am sorry, Tai, but this apology comes far too late. The trials you must now endure are those of Parhelion’s making, and you must prove that this pact you share with the others is worth the suffering you’ve endured.”
Tai’s heart skipped at the response, and she lifted her head warily. The Red Monk looked down at her with fire in his eyes, a stern expression set onto a scowl.
“If you have died to become Tai, then Tai you shall be. Be a Lantern Carrier, be a pirate, wear whatever skin suits you so long as the breath within your lungs continues to breathe the song of truth. I am but a man, Tai, I will not last. You will return to dust as well, but I’ll be damned if I allow my daughters to be laid into the earth before my bones fall apart.”
The planks of the ship groaned in response, coiling and stretching into a larger form. The miserable craft which she’d stolen away began to claw at itself, railings snatching away at themselves and curling into beautifully ornate designs. The water flowed onto the ship, stacking itself and solidifying into glass panels and panes.
“This may not be the world you wished to inherit from me-“
The Red Monk stepped forward and placed the heel of his hand against Tai’s forehead. “You may not be as strong as you thought you were, or as how they perceive you to be.”
He stepped back. “But this is where you are, and you are trapped for the first time in the midst of your own decisions. I cannot help you step forward from this, but you know who can.”
Tai dipped her head, “I… have learned from my mistakes.”
“I do not believe you,” the Red Monk said, but the red light serpent did not appear this time. The truth was not demanded, and for once Tai felt as though perhaps these was uncertainty in the mind of her father. She grabbed hold of it in an instant.
“I went mad trying to find my way through this, trying to deal with my own decision-“ she said, standing up. “But I found my way back. I climbed Mount Hood, tricked the Triumverate Elves, gained the trust and respect of the Drifters, and learned the follow their ways. That was not the deeds of my sisters, nor was it the deeds of the dead. I am alive, I live!”
With a blinding crack, a surge of light burst from Tai’s side. She fell with a huff onto the newly furnished ship, unsure of what had happened. She pushed herself up quickly, but recoiled to find her hands covered in blood. Curiosity consumed her as she inspected her hand to find a shard of glass stuck there. The entire floor of the ship, in fact, covered in glass shards.
She watched the Red Monk kneel down to pick up her staff, with a small grin on his face. The lantern, which had been lying on the bench, was completely destroyed. Nothing remained of the device besides the ring on which it hung, and the staff itself was barely recognizable from the scorch it had endured.
“Very good.”
Tai warily reached out for the staff, but the Red Monk quickly tossed it overboard. “Don’t think of it now. Stay focused.”
Instead, he reached to his side and unlatched the familiar Staff of the Eagle. Tai watched in horror as he held it out to her.
“Now then, you’ll be needing this.”
Tai continued to lay on the floor, unsure of what to do. With a bit of an exasperated shuffle, the Red Monk walked over and pulled her up onto her feet, pressing the precious artifact into her hands. The staff shuddered under her grip, twisting into a beautiful divine form perfectly suited to her preferred weight. The cap of the staff was none other than a glowing glass light, surrounding by two ornate fish swirling around its top and bottom.
The Red Monk began to walk away, gingerly stepping over the side of the boat, when Tai rushed to him.
“How can you do this? How can you be sure that I… that this is-“
“Do you doubt my judgement?” The Red Monk asked, with a stern glower. Tai held his gaze, visibly confused, but slowly shook her head ‘no’.
“Ah,” He sighed, stepping out onto the water. “You are a wise woman, Tai, but you are still young. One day you will doubt my judgement, and you will be correct. Live long enough to reach that day.”
And with that, the Red Monk finally walked off, fading from view into the swirling red mists. The shadow of night returned in its hues of blues and greys, and the ship began to lurch with the rougher waves. Tai leaned against the railing of the beautiful ship, unsure of what she had seen.
In her hands, the Staff of the Eagle hummed, sending shivers down her spine. She gazed into the heart of the staff, the glowing pale-blue orb atop, and it warmed her. But, with a stern word, she demanded it cease. The light went out, and the lantern died at the end of the staff.
She waited for a moment, unsure of what would happen. The darkness of night fell around her, leaving her alone with the ocean’s wild movement.
But the moment passed.
And then another.
And still, Tai remained.
To that, she would concede, and with a rare smile, celebrate.