Surely, marriage is a curse, and it is no wonder that nowadays there are more applications for divorce than for marriage licenses at the Forum.
Vaur'Kou'n had never in his life felt so lonely. Not to mention bored. He was used to doing things his way. He had forgotten how meaningless and tedious this game of court politics truly was. Hell, following Kanrel around had been much more fruitful; at least there was some variety; at least he got to observe from the outside to peer in. There was none of this... being part of something more than just yourself.
It was easier for one to look at a lie from outside than to live one; than to play a role in someone else's script.
A decade ago, it would have been as easy as his years of study at the Sanctuary. After all, those experiences were far closer to what one had to do than the things he was used to doing now.
He looked outside the window at one of the highest apartments in the Spire. The many smaller buildings, the not-as-tall towers that populated the city, and the ants that roamed the streets as the blue light spread by the mirrors lit their way. At least the view was nice. In some sense. However, it was obviously meant as some petty revenge by their ever-gracious host, A'Daur'Kra. A few more steps each morning and evening to reach where one had to be and where one wanted to be.
Yet, he bore it. He shared this damn apartment with his... wife. It felt strange to even think about it, and even more strange to call her such in public. Thankfully, there was no need for pretense at the privacy of their apartment. But... he couldn't deny that it hurt him more. That the lie couldn't be the truth, and extend itself into their shared home. If this could be called home...
He glanced to the side, eyeing the two beds pushed apart. They were so far from each other. He shook his head and let his gaze run around the room. Their apartment was so clean, so large, so... empty.
This lie. Why couldn't it become more real? To change the feeling of inward despair, of self-disgust, and strangeness into something more alarming: love. Compassion. And whatever the hell it all even means or entails.
What if the now separate beds were to unify? What if they found that they had more things in common than not? He scoffed. Surely the very ceiling of the caverns would collapse onto them, killing him and the rest of their ilk, for such understanding could never exist in the confines of Atheian society.
Well... unless your name was Y'Kraun.
A chuckle escaped his lips. Never had Vaur'Kou'n imagined a day when he would find himself to be jealous of a slave. Rather, an emancipated slave. He could only suppose that some people got what they deserved, even when it was so unlikely.
But then again, Y'Kraun is a good person. His tears at the potential loss of Kanrel were proof of just that.
He heard a knock at the door. So, Vaur'Kou'n again shook his head and focused on the matter at hand. It was another morning, another day he would have to survive through in the Spire and the City of Creation.
He made his way into the bathroom and stood before a grand mirror. He observed himself and what he was. Tall, handsome, menacing, even. Traits that are useful, but not for all the parts one has to play in life. Many masks had he worn, and he did enjoy those that let him have some distance between people, but now the assignment was very different...
A loving husband. He brought his hands to his gray face and molded onto it an expression that mimicked love. He had seen such an expression on Y'Kraun's face when he had looked at his wife. It was the truest form of love. Was it not? Vaur'Kou'n wasn't sure, but he had to believe that it was.
He wanted to be openly jealous of Y'Kraun and the love that he was allowed to express. Not as a lie, but as the truth.
He ran through many such expressions, different masks of love, all he had stolen from Y'Kraun. Things like worry, gentleness, love, caring, and even lust. All the things that any man would want to show to the woman they loved. Freely, and without the judgment of others, and more importantly, with the consent of their lover.
Vaur'Kou'n had such consent, but only when it was needed. Only when it served a purpose. Only when it served her.
The last expression he molded onto his face was one of calm. This was the mask he would wear every time he left this apartment; every time he was faced with people. Almost at all times, this was the image he tried to form of himself. Even with A'Trou'n.
Calm and unreadable. This is what he ought to be, lest he get caught, outed, and judged for who and what he truly is.
Don't get caught showing useless emotions. Never give them a handle unless it serves you.
He let his hands drop to his sides. By all means, he was ready to suffer through another day. So, with great stride, he marched toward the front door, behind which a servant awaited him, ready to guide him to wherever he had to be for whatever reason it might be.
But before he reached the door... something caught his eye. He came to a sudden stop. The papers. They were still there. Signed without Vaur'Kou'n's consent. Sent from the Forum all the way here, days before he arrived. His mask slipped for a moment.
Those papers were a technical truth. Something that was true on paper, but not in reality.
It reminded him of something that Kanrel once explained to him. About how there are things that depict another thing; let's say, something living, like an Atheian...
Imagine an Atheian, flesh and bone, a living, breathing thing. Then, imagine another Atheian. This one does not breathe; it does not live. It is not of bone nor is it of flesh. Instead, it is made from stone; made to look exactly like the other Atheian next to it.
They are so similar that they could both be alive. They look so similar that one could confuse one with the other. Both are real, yet one is more false than the other.
One is more akin to the truth, and the other is more akin to a lie.
It is what this marriage felt like. Outwardly, it almost looked like a real marriage. All the things were there, acted out with great intent, with signed papers and shared apartments. Yet in the end, it was a simulacrum of a marriage; only a depiction of something real; wholly unsatisfactory.
Another knock came from the door. Vaur'Kou'n's thoughts suddenly cut from the road it was marching down. He almost violently shook his head, brought the mask back to his face, covering it with an expression of calmness.
He reached the door and opened it; on the other side was indeed an awaiting servant, one that seemed somewhat scared, not of him, but of the potential of being late, and the punishment which A'Daur'Kra might so suddenly force upon the poor servant.
Vaur'Kou'n didn't sigh, nor did he show anything else except his carefully crafted mask. "Lead the way," he said, and soon followed the hurrying servant as they made their way down the Spire.
- - -
The Spire felt more or less the same. Now it just lacked purpose. Sure, it still had its inherent importance, its tasks, and its job as the center of the city; the machinery that distributed light to most of the city was all within it. The mirrors that gave the City of Creation such ancient, almost forgotten concepts as "night" and "day."
But for Vaur'Kou'n, it had no purpose, and its meaning had changed. It didn't feel like an important mission that he had to take care of; no longer did he really need to give valuable information to the Council of Many Faces. Instead, he played the role of a loving husband, but in reality, he had never been more bored.
Step after step, he went down the flights of stairs until he and the hurried servant reached the so-called "throne room," where the others already awaited him. His wife and his brother-in-law.
A'Daur'Kra's very demeanor perked, his blue eyes brightened, and a wicked smile lay claim to his domain. "Brother!" he said, jumping from his throne, stepping past his sister, and the group of haggard Atheians who had been kneeling before him.
The lordling walked toward him, taking long strides with his arms wide open, ready for a hug he'd decline if not for the audience. He managed a smile and accepted the warmth-lacking hug of a known bastard.
"What is it this time?" Vaur'Kou'n muttered through gritted teeth whilst embracing his brother-in-law.
A'Daur'Kra scoffed, "Just a little surprise; nothing beneath you, I promise." Their hug ended, and soon A'Daur'Kra pulled him along, closer to the middle of the hall, and the Atheians who'd been kneeling through the small encounter.
He could've declined the hug...
A'Daur'Kra sat down, and peered at him and the Atheians at his feet, "You may get up, and greet your new superior, a very talented man whom you all know!"
The kneeling Atheians promptly got up and let their gazes observe A'Daur'Kra, who stood in the middle of them, only to avert them soon after, when they recognized Captain Vaur'Kou'n. They felt fear, more so toward him than the Lord of the City of Creation, even when they knew of his... fickle nature.
"Superior?" Vaur'Kou'n managed to say.
"Indeed!" A'Daur'Kra smirked, "I've decided that you're the most fitting person to keep our city safe!"
Vaur'Kou'n's brows furrowed, and he studied the clothes and the faces of the Atheians around him. They weren't soldiers. They weren't even militia. Sure, their clothes were haggard; their boots more so. They were people who must've walked around much more than the average worker might.
But what stuck with him was nothing to do with their clothes, but instead their expressions. Sure, there was fear and anxiety there, but there was also something different, something deeper than a passing feeling.
An expression that reminded him of Kanrel. The more amusing bastard than the one he had to deal with now... There was... a lack of humor. A lack of hope. These were the eyes of men and women, who every day of their lives aspired for something, but could never quite reach it.
They were people who were... famished. They had a desire that could never be satisfied.
They were people who had reached their peak in magical ability and were unable to reach a further height. Never feeling the warmth, the loving embrace, the intoxication of using and reaching a new level of the arcane...
He involuntarily shook his head. His mask almost slipped, but he managed to hold on to it tightly. Whatever he was to do... it might force a man to reach too far, only to be left feeling empty and unsatisfied for the rest of his life.
"Captain Vaur'Kou'n, it is time to bring light to this world of ours; for I dub thee, the Master of Lanterns! I hope that your service will be long and fruitful, that under your watchful eyes, there won't be a day when a lantern needlessly flickers at the edge of our city," A'Daur'Kra pronounced with all the might and authority that he could muster. Yet, his expression was clear to all. Victorious, and powerful, but above all... amused.
Vaur'Kou'n smiled and went for a deep bow, "A title worthy of my time; I will make sure that these men and women do their duty to perfection. And where it is needed, I shall help them; I, too, shall patrol the outskirts of our city, and relight the fickle lanterns to keep the Veil at bay and our lands safe for all to explore."
In his voice, there was no defeat. Nothing to indicate annoyance. He managed to sound like someone who was filled with gratitude and a sense of duty. In this moment, he played his role to perfection and went even further. His gaze found A'Trou'n's eyes, he walked to her, and took her hands to his own, saying, "Forgive me, for we might not get to spend as much time together as we might've at first wished, but duty comes before love, oh does it not, my dear?"
A'Trou'n smiled, but it did not reach her eyes, "Just come home in time, and it will be enough," she managed a lie of her own. Her hands departed from his almost too quickly, as if she had just held onto something unpleasant.
A'Daur'Kra's gaze was set on them, and his smile widened; he clapped along like an amused spectator, "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
"You may go now with your new subordinates, your fellow lamplighters. I am sure that they will show you to your offices, as well as teach you the ropes of your new position!" A'Daur'Kra produced a signed memo, which he handed to Vaur'Kou'n. He quickly read the first few lines: 'CC-LL-07: Appointment for Citywide, and Outskirts Luminance.'
It had the city seal, A'Daur'Kra's signature, only missing the Forum's stamp, but it might as well be the de facto law, for now. Something that he must follow, lest he want to deal with issues later on.
Forum stamp missing. Fine. But it would take a while... From here, to the Forum intake, through the efficiently slow bureaucracy, before it will ever be stamped... Three days if the courier sprints without a stop; a week if they don't. And the damn lanterns can't wait for the stamp; the Veil sure as hell won't.
He slid the memo to A'Trou'n. "Expedite it. Have them run."
Vaur'Kou'n grinned and stepped forth to initiate a hug of his own with A'Daur'Kra, whispering into the bastard's ear, "I will enjoy my time away from you."
"Anything to agonize two lovers…" Their loving embrace ended, and Vaur'Kou'n departed with his new subordinates as his guides, as they made their way out of the Spire, into the cramped streets of the City of Creation.
The "inquiry for appointment" or the "memo" had been embellished just enough to pass intake, and it would be promptly stamped once it reached the Forum.
Things like, "A sudden failure of multiple lanterns nearly a mile outside the city; intense flickering; the shadows surging, pushing closer in abnormal areas; noted strange behavior of the Veil in recent weeks…" and so forth.
But it remained something where he would still have to do his due diligence. But only after questioning his new co-workers. After all, there was the chance that the report was constructed of at least half-truths, and not wholly from simple fabrications.
While walking, he kept peering at them. They seemed... nice. Good workers. Although lacking in personality, much like Kanrel. Poor bastards. Maybe they would lie about the Veil's and the lanterns' behavior, just so that they might swallow them; to commit suicide by insanity, or whatever the hell truly happened when one accepted its embrace.
There were six of them. Clearly not enough for the work they were supposed to do. There were hundreds of lanterns that ran along the edge of darkness, and hundreds more within the city—all of it very important to the safety of every soul living within and near the City of Creation.
They weren't talkative. They just walked ahead, at times looking back, making sure that their new "Master of Lanterns" didn't stray too far from them. It took almost ten minutes before they reached the edge of the city, and the "offices" of their nigh-sacred job.
Just a large box, separate from the rest of the buildings. They entered, and Vaur'Kou'n was instantly met with the smell of dust and old paper. But he refused to cough, even when his throat wanted him to protest.
Inside, there was a small space meant for them: a locker room with hooks without names, a kitchenette with a kettle boiled black, and an even smaller office filled with paper, most likely reports, that were piled across the table, jammed into shelves and cabinets in the former storage room.
This was the space allocated to the very lamplighters of the city... There was, of course, a larger space, a later-on-built storage facility, which was filled with old and new lanterns, as well as crystals that one could use to replace the old ones. At least there were enough of them... probably.
The seven of them awkwardly stood peering into the storage room. Not saying anything; not even explaining what they had in their "offices," perhaps not daring to explain to someone like him what there was, or just not bothering.
"Is it really just the seven of us?" Vaur'Kou'n opened his mouth at last, and he glanced at one of them, an older Atheian, who seemed as lifeless as the rest. They were missing the tips of their left-hand ring and middle fingers. They caressed the smooth surface of it out of habit.
"No, sir. We work in shifts. There are twelve more. Six are patrolling this very moment, and the six others are probably asleep," a younger Atheian explained. This one had at least a flicker of life in their eyes. They kept pulling their left earlobe, releasing it, then pulling again in a slow rhythm that seemed to quicken under stress.
"I see... This is it?" he loosely gestured toward the rooms.
All the Atheians nodded, almost in unison.
"And no one cleans the place?"
The younger Atheian shrugged, "Why bother? It's not like we spend much time here."
Vaur'Kou'n grimaced, "And I suppose that you would prefer to keep it that way?"
The Atheians glanced at each other, "Depends, sir... Does cleaning become our job?"
Vaur'Kou'n suppressed a sigh, "I suppose it could, but I'll see what I can do…"
"Thank you, sir."
"And when does our shift begin?"
"In an hour, sir."
Vaur'Kou'n stood still for a while, just taking everything in. It was shit. Everything was. And, he could already imagine how shit the work itself would be. But even then, he found a smile to veil his creeping annoyance.
"Then we shall use this hour in conversation... I would like to know how things work here; who you are, what your names are, and how work is divided, as well as how shifts are decided," he said, and stepped back into the office side of the building, while the six already worried Atheians followed along. Maybe they would be forced to do some extra cleaning? The sheer thought of it was enough to make a man shudder.
The older Atheian, a veteran of many years of lamplighting, Tu'reu'n, began a long-winded explanation of how things really worked:
"As there are only eighteen of us in total, now nineteen, we've to be very efficient with how the work is divided amongst us. So, someone smarter years back came up with a map we might use, with the whole city and its surroundings sectioned as areas of similar amounts of lanterns. And the most efficient route for their maintenance so that the person whose duty a specific area might be, can cover as much ground in the 8 or so hours of daily work," Tu'reu'n coughed a little, and glanced at the much younger Atheian, B'ou'r, who hurriedly placed a couple of maps of the city and its perimeters onto the dirty table in their kitchenette.
"As you can see here," Tu'reu'n said and pointed around a marked area, "We have a section of the city, which we've named Sector A, and it is divided into smaller sections, A1, and so forth, so that we can all be aware of what each of us is doing at a given time; and where one might find us, if there is need for it."
On the map, there were multiple such named sectors, six, in fact, and each sector was then further divided into six more sections. For example, Sector A-1 through A-6, and so forth. On the map, the exact number of lanterns on each route was marked... and in total, the eighteen, now nineteen, of them, together, were responsible for a total of ten thousand lanterns...
Vaur'Kou'n nodded along with the explanation. One thing was already clear to him: the lamplighters were severely understaffed.
"Tu'reu'n…"
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are there so many lanterns?" Vaur'Kou'n expected a chuckle as an answer, since the question was quite ignorant.
"Because many of them are backups, which always stay lit, but are activated only a couple of days after, to make sure that there never comes a moment where one crystal dies, creating a potentially dangerous situation for someone, who doesn't know the dangers of the Veil…" Tu'reu'n explained, then coughed, "Sir," he added.
Vaur'Kou'n could only nod along. He had plenty of questions that he wanted to ask, like, when is one supposed to change a crystal to a new one, instead of just recharging? And when there were so many lanterns to maintain, wouldn't many of them, with the limited staff that they had, be left unchecked, possibly, for days?
But he was given no chance, for the door into the offices opened up, and six Atheians more walked in, one by one, all wearing equally tired expressions; all having the same underlying expression on their faces...
They stopped at the locker rooms, peering at Vaur'Kou'n. After a few moments, one of them asked, "Who's this prick, then?"
A tense silence took hold. It must've felt cold for some of them, especially the six who already knew who he was.
Vaur'Kou'n smiled and stepped closer toward the one who had spoken; he extended his arm toward them, "I am Captain Vaur'Kou'n, the new Master of Lanterns in our wondrous City of Creation."
The Atheian blinked a few times, looked between the extended hand and then Tu'reu'n, who had lost a couple of shades of gray from their face since just a moment ago.
The Atheian nodded, "I see, didn't know that," they accepted the hand, and shook it, "Name's Eu'tum, pleasure to meet ya... sir."
Vaur'Kou'n's smile widened ever-so-slightly, "Indeed, Eu'tum, there is some pleasure in all of this."
"Well then…" he added soon after, "I suppose it is our turn to do some work in the field?" he looked around until his gaze landed on B'ou'r, who seemed to be busy examining the map. She tapped the surface of it, nodding to herself.
"B'ou'r," Vaur'Kou'n called for her; the Atheian flinched, as if they had forgotten that she wasn't alone with the maps.
"Yes, sir?"
"Today, I will follow you as you work. And you shall show me how you do your work."
B'ou'r looked at the other Atheians in the room, "Why me?"
"Because it amuses me," Vaur'Kou'n said, and smiled just enough to make the poor girl feel more unsettled than she needed to. And B'ou'r's expression gave it all away. She was displeased. Maybe even a little annoyed by the extra work that she would have to do.
"Yes, sir," B'ou'r managed to mutter the most unenthusiastic agreement that she could.
"Wonderful," Vaur'Kou'n grinned, "I knew that I could trust you... Show me the way, miss B'ou'r, I'm sure that we'll have a lovely day ahead of us!"
- - -
B'ou'r kept muttering something incomprehensible as they walked down the street, making their way out of the city, to what was known to the lamplighters as Section F-1, which encompassed much of the ground north of the city.
She seemed somewhat agitated, but Vaur'Kou'n was almost giddy with the simple freedom of walking. It had been so long since he had felt so free. Well... it had been a few weeks, but even then. At least he wasn't locked within the Spire and was allowed to roam the streets and even make his way outside the city. Wasn't such freedom a blessing? Even if he had to partake in work that was, by all means, beneath his station. After all, he was part of the Sanctuary. He was above most of the Atheians that had ever lived.
But, he didn't mind it. Since here, he didn't have to pretend to be a loving husband, nor someone who respected A'Daur'Kra to any extent. But... he was reminded of that tyrant, wherever he went. The city couldn't run without him. With all the faults the bastard had, even his tyrannical nature, which most would condemn, he remained a brilliant politician. Perhaps not in the game of political intrigue, but instead in political efficiency. He was someone who used his political powers well, making constant improvements in the City of Creation, for its people and its economy.
It was quite possible that the city and its people had never been so rich. Which is exactly why none had really made any complaints about his tyrannical nature... For did it really matter if a few serfs were mistreated by him, if the rest of the citizens lived richer lives, and weren't almost ever affected by A'Daur'Kra's tyranny?
All of this, the things within this city, were somehow touched by him. Which is why A'Trou'n's reasoning had never made much sense... Her saying that she would run it all better, or that A'Daur'Kra was somehow not suitable, or skilled enough to lead, had no basis in reality.
Vaur'Kou'n shook his head again, without thinking if he should do such a thing at all, only to notice that they had come to a stop, just outside the city. He could feel B'ou'r's gaze on him; the girl kept pulling her left earlobe again. You could watch her process thoughts, tug by tug.
"Yes?" Vaur'Kou'n said after a while.
"Nothing, sir... I've just never seen someone like you so up close."
"Someone like me?" Vaur'Kou'n asked and gestured for B'ou'r to keep walking.
"Yes, sir," B'ou'r said, and they began walking toward the lanterns and the edge of the Veil.
"Elaborate."
"Well... someone so dangerous," B'ou'r said, furrowing her brows, "Today was the first time that I ever went into the Spire, the first time I got to see any of the A'Kau'Tou'n family members."
"I've only ever heard about them, and their complicated... relationship," B'ou'r halted. They were now just a few steps away from the lanterns. "And I mean no disrespect, sir, but there are lots of stories about you, as well."
A lantern flickered on its own, and the Veil flickered with it, getting closer, only to be instantly repelled again. B'ou'r stepped toward it, placing her left hand on it. She seemed to focus for a few moments, and Vaur'Kou'n felt the small surge of her magic.
The lantern stopped flickering; instead, it brightened a little.
At the edge of the dark, something inhaled and held its breath.
"Like?"
B'ou'r shook her head, "I'd rather not say, sir." They continued walking by the edge of the Veil.
Vaur'Kou'n chuckled, "Miss B'ou'r, I promise that if even half of the rumors that float around of me were true, then that Eu'tum fellow would have never been allowed to shake my hand."
Even then, B'ou'r shook her head, "Who knows, sir? Maybe Eu'tum will suddenly disappear in the coming days?"
A snort escaped his lips, "Are the rumors about me really so bad?"
"Yes, sir... Some of them are really bad," B'ou'r said. She seemed not to really care how he might've reacted to what she was saying. But her bluntness was endearing... it reminded him of Kanrel, at times.
She noticed another flickering light and pointed at it, "Do you at least know how to recharge them?"
"Of course I do, I've done it before a couple of times."
"Show me."
Vaur'Kou'n fought against the sigh that wanted to escape; instead, he stepped forth and did exactly what B'ou'r had just done. The crystal felt lukewarm in his hand. He concentrated and focused his magics into it. Heat pooled in the crystal, the flickering steadied, the light climbed, and at the edge of the dark, something exhaled. The Veil pulled back, as if burned by the blue light's existence.
Vaur'Kou'n turned around and met B'ou'r's gaze. Her expression had shifted slightly.
"What's wrong?"
She shook her head, "As I mentioned, this is the first time I've seen someone like you so up close…"
"A man with far too offensive rumors to say out loud?"
"No, sir…"
Vaur'Kou'n's brow arched, "Then what? Explain yourself."
She sighed, "Someone to be jealous of."
"Why?"
Her gaze sharpened, "You're educated. You should be able to see the obvious."
Vaur'Kou'n tilted his head.
She sighed, "Your magics, sir. You're the strongest I've seen. Stronger than Lord A'Daur'Kra," she then immediately looked around, and lowered her voice, "Don't tell his lordship I said that."
Vaur'Kou'n blinked a couple of times, surprised by her reaction, but then everything locked into place. It all made sense. She had reached her peak. She could not go past what she had already reached. She was unable to feel the loving embrace of magic as it filled her. She had become like an addict who would never be able to reach a dose strong enough to subdue her desire.
B'ou'r stood silently before him, pulling her earlobe and releasing it, then pulling it again, in a steady rhythm. A mixture of agitation, jealousy, and... admiration, all present on her face. She was someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve.
Vaur'Kou'n sighed, "I'm sorry," he said.
"Why?"
"Because—" he began, but stopped himself. Because what? Because he might've offended her? Because she wasn't as talented in the arcane as he was?
It was B'ou'r's turn to tilt her head.
"Because it was a stupid question." Vaur'Kou'n decided to say.
B'ou'r scoffed and stopped pulling her earlobe, "No need for that. Let's just get to work." She then pointed toward the west, "You walk that way and check all the lanterns, I'll go the other direction. We'll meet at the gates when we're done. Okay?" Without receiving a reply, she walked off, leaving Vaur'Kou'n on his own.
"What a strange person," she muttered to herself, just loud enough for him to hear.
"Speak for yourself!" Vaur'Kou'n called, turned on his heel, and set off west. Behind him, three lanterns steadied in a row. Then, a heartbeat late, the Veil shivered like a billion leaves graced by the wind.
He walked by the edge of the Veil. Keeping his eyes steadily on this substance that he had had the displeasure of being in contact with. In the Sanctuary, he had many times stood by it, looked into it, and wondered if he, too, would go insane if fully immersed by it.
At times, he stepped closer to recharge the fading or flickering lanterns. The Veil would flicker with it; it would answer each motion made by the lights. But at times... it felt slow, sluggish with its answers.
He supposed this to be normal. Or at least that it wasn't entirely abnormal.
How did the other lamplighters work in these conditions? Did they not hear the constant call of the Veil, the voices deep within, or the eyes always set upon them? Could they not... sense them?
He shivered. Maybe he would much rather pretend to be a loving husband—maybe a lie could turn into the truth?—and live under the continuous torture of A'Daur'Kra rather than this. In the end, he would go insane doing this. He knew it to be true. Some went mad with just the touch of it; some after a short while... A'Daur'Kra had never been the same since the day A'Trou'n pushed him in. He had become... strange.
Not to mention Kanrel, who also had been kissed by the Veil. The poor bastard couldn't stop thinking about it. And so, he stepped inside, never to be seen again. Vaur'Kou'n was sure that they would never meet again. He had known the moment he had allowed Kanrel to walk by him, into the Veil.
Vaur'Kou'n shook his head, finding himself standing at the edge of the Veil, staring deep into it; his gaze trying to peer past the shadows that moved like a billion dark bubbles along the blue light that almost touched it. So smooth, yet not. He wondered, for a moment, that if one were able to touch it... what would it feel like?
Would it be rough and uneven, or smooth and silky? Would it be wet and cold, or warm and dry? He shook his head and began to turn away—and froze. A shape in the Veil. Not there, then there. A figure? Just a moment, a flash. A mirage that erased itself between blinks. The mind makes faces in smoke, he told himself.
Violent shivers ran through him. It all felt so strange. Had it always felt so unsettling? Had it always felt like falling through cold and hot pebbles of steel?
He swallowed and continued his work. Another lantern flickered, and he stepped closer and recharged it. It would take hours to finish today's "run," as the other lamplighters would put it. Far out in the Veil, the shiver came again—late, echoing—and something almost called his name.