[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Verdantis]

[Capital City]

Getting a read on people had always come naturally to Aerinon. More often than not it was a remarkably simple process, one that required little more than patience, observation, and a willingness to dissect a person’s habits rather than their words. People believed themselves complicated, but in his experience most eventually settled into patterns. Desires repeated themselves. Fears resurfaced. Motivations revealed themselves if one simply watched long enough.

Most people, he found, could be understood.

There was Lyraeth, whose heart beat for battle in all its forms. It was never merely combat she sought but exhilaration in general. Danger, uncertainty, impossible odds—anything capable of stirring her blood held her attention. She lived chasing that feeling with such shameless honesty that deciphering her had hardly required effort.

Reynard was equally straightforward, though in a different manner. His confidence bordered on arrogance because he knew he stood above the average person. Strength had become the foundation of his identity, and pride naturally followed. There was very little hidden beneath that exterior.

Then there was Lilith.

She concealed herself far better than most, smiling when she wished to hide irritation, laughing when she wished to avoid questions, and allowing people to underestimate how carefully she watched them. Yet even she possessed something constant. Beneath all of that was a fierce devotion to her younger sibling. Strip everything else away, and that remained. Once Aerinon understood that, predicting her actions became considerably easier.

There were others as well.

Each possessed a thread and something that, once found, unraveled the rest.

Rowena was different.

She had always been different.

No matter how many conversations they shared, no matter how many years passed, Aerinon had never managed to reduce her to that singular thread.

Her gaze remained cold, her posture remained composed, and her voice never seemed hurried or uncertain.

Yet despite that, he had never mistaken her for emotionless.

Quite the opposite.

He knew emotion existed beneath that calm exterior; he simply could not determine where it began or where it ended. She never wore her thoughts openly and never spoke more than necessary. Even when she was honest, it felt as though she had only allowed someone to glimpse the edge of a much larger picture.

Aerinon understood what motivated Lyra.

He understood what motivated Reynard.

He even understood Lilith despite her tendency to hide herself.

Rowena...

She remained unreadable.

Perhaps that, more than anything else, was why something resembling curiosity lingered within him whenever they spoke.

He found himself studying her again before finally breaking the silence.

"Why come to me with all of this?" Aerinon asked quietly. "You’ve already reached your conclusion, so I’m curious why you felt it necessary to seek me out personally."

They had long since stopped walking.

The corridor stretched around them, empty save for the two Inheritors. Rowena rested one shoulder against the stone wall beside an unusually abstract painting, its canvas filled with clashing colors and strokes that refused to resemble anything tangible. Aerinon stood several paces away with both hands still tucked comfortably inside his coat pockets.

Rowena regarded him for a brief moment before lifting a brow ever so slightly.

"Do you always make a habit of asking questions whose answers are already in front of you?" she replied evenly. "Or is that a habit reserved specifically for me?"

Aerinon considered that.

"...Touché, I suppose."

The admission came without embarrassment.

He shifted his attention back toward her.

"Still," he continued, "you should know better than most that possessing strength doesn’t suddenly make someone responsible for solving everything. Power has limits. People have limits. I’m still human at the end of the day. I cannot solve every problem Verdantis has simply because I’m capable of solving some."

Rowena’s expression remained unchanged.

"Can’t," she repeated softly. A brief pause followed. "Or won’t?"

The question settled between them without hostility. It was calm but far more dangerous than accusation.

Aerinon’s face remained as blank as ever.

Rowena continued before he answered.

"You’re not lazy, Aerinon. Not really." Her gaze drifted toward the large window beside him where the warped skies loomed beyond the glass, black tears staining the sky above Verdantis. "You’re capable. Efficient, even. Which is precisely why your lack of involvement stands out."

She folded her arms loosely.

"I don’t believe you’re doing so little because you lack ability. I think there’s another reason altogether."

Her eyes remained fixed outside.

"But you are correct about one thing." Her voice softened only slightly. "No individual, regardless of strength, can solve every problem. Power alone has never been enough. It is merely one piece of something much larger."

Aerinon listened without interruption.

After several quiet seconds he spoke again.

"Then perhaps I should ask differently." His lone eye settled firmly on her. "If you’ve already reached that conclusion, why come to me anyway?"

This time Rowena answered without hesitation.

"Because these are no longer ordinary circumstances." Her words carried certainty; they always had. "Ordinarily I’d agree with everything you’ve just said. Leadership matters. Diplomacy matters. Experience matters. Compassion matters."

She shook her head once.

"But this calamity doesn’t negotiate. It doesn’t tire; it doesn’t hesitate. It doesn’t care how experienced someone is." Her teal eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Leadership means very little against a tide that cannot be reasoned with. Experience loses much of its value when every encounter changes. Empathy cannot persuade creatures that possess no minds to reach."

She let the silence settle before finishing.

"For now, what we need most is power." Nothing more and nothing less.

Aerinon regarded her quietly.

"And you’re not the one suited to provide it?"

"My abilities serve a different purpose." There was no pride in her voice as she continued. "I can destroy armies if I have to. I can reshape this world. I can accomplish many things." Her gaze remained unwavering. "But what this situation demands is something more volatile."

He did not know what she truly meant.

"Ordinarily..." she continued, "this burden would have fallen to Dante." For the first time since beginning the conversation, something crossed her eyes. "But Dante isn’t here."

The moment passed almost immediately.

"So whether you particularly enjoy hearing it or not..." Her gaze settled firmly upon him. "...you must step forward."

Aerinon absorbed the statement in silence.

"Must," he rolled the word over thoughtfully. "Interesting choice." His tone remained the same. "It doesn’t sound as though you’re making a request."

"It isn’t." Rowena pushed herself away from the wall. She walked forward, passing beside him with quiet footsteps before slowing just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye.

Her expression had scarcely changed.

Yet somehow the temperature of the corridor felt colder.

"You don’t get to decide that doing nothing is acceptable." Her voice remained perfectly calm. "If you lacked the ability, I wouldn’t ask. If someone else could accomplish what only you can, I wouldn’t be standing here."

Another step followed.

"But neither of those things are true." Her gaze met his for only a heartbeat. "So no. It isn’t a request." A pause followed for a brief moment. "You do not get to be useless, Aerinon."

Her words landed without anger, shouting, or even the slightest rise in volume.

Which somehow made them all the more intimidating.

"So..." She continued walking. "...please put in the effort."

She never looked back.

Within moments her footsteps gradually faded into the silence of the corridor until only Aerinon remained.

He watched the empty hallway for several seconds.

"How frightening," he murmured quietly. "I suppose."

There was no irritation in his voice as he spoke; if anything, it sounded like idle observation. Yet even he recognized what had remained unsaid.

Rowena had not threatened him directly.

She had not needed to.

The implication beneath her words had been perfectly clear; she despised waste. And from her perspective, allowing someone with his abilities to remain largely inactive was perhaps the greatest waste imaginable.

He still failed to understand her.

("Though I suppose...") His thoughts resumed as naturally as breathing while he continued down the corridor. ("...this does complicate things.")

Rowena was not someone who spoke carelessly.

If she decided something needed changing, she would continue pressing until it changed.

She was patient and persistent.

And, unfortunately...

She possessed one rather inconvenient characteristic.

("She doesn’t make idle threats.") Aerinon stared ahead without particular interest. ("Which is unfortunate.") A thought surfaced almost immediately afterward, it was a simple one entirely devoid of emotion. ("Should I kill her?")

The question appeared in his mind with the same neutrality someone might wonder whether it would snow tomorrow. There was no hatred behind it or anger; he merely considered it seriously for several moments.

("Perhaps not.") His answer arrived just as calmly. ("That would create considerably more problems than it would solve.") Rowena herself was already difficult enough to deal with.

Attempting to eliminate her would only multiply those difficulties.

("She’s troublesome.") His thoughts remained methodical. ("She controls every leyline across the realm; fighting her would be inefficient.")

That alone was reason enough to dismiss the idea, so he simply continued walking.

Perhaps doing a little more would satisfy her; perhaps it would not. Either way, there remained one problem he still couldn’t resolve.

He genuinely failed to see the point.

There were numerous people better suited to shouldering this burden than he was.

People who wanted to, people who believed in it, and people who naturally stepped forward.

("Someone like Lucinda...") His pace remained unchanged, then, after another moment of consideration—("Or perhaps not.")

A rare hint of contemplation settled over him.

("She has the exact opposite problem that I do.") The thought lingered a little longer this time before fading into silence. "I suppose."