Chương 89: All That He Ever Wanted

She said yes. Zaul didn't know what he'd done to earn it, nor did he care to find out. All that mattered was that Canyon had looked him straight in the eye and said yes. She didn't demur, didn't hesitate. Not even a speck of red upon her porcelain face. It was like she'd been waiting to be asked all this [Time]—like there could only be one answer. And who knew? Maybe this was the answer.

Zaul's world certainly remained intact and colorful as he and Canyon rode away from the gazebo, away from the lotus leaves and rippling sunlight. It remained intact as the pair rode out of the forest and onto a main road, wide enough for two horsemen to ride side by side and then some. The world never lost its shine as Zaul finally screwed up the courage to talk to Canyon.

Asking about her day, about the latest project she was working on, and even about the weather which, believe it or not, was good for several minutes of pleasant conversation. The more they talked, the more Zaul remembered. Remembered why he'd been so smitten with at least one version of Canyon once upon a wacky adventure. Remembered why her rejection of him had so broken his heart—why he'd worked so hard to forget, to keep her out of his mind whenever the thoughts and memories crept past his guard.

He didn't just remember. No, he also realized that he never did forget. That all this time, as he trekked through Featherift then Leafell as a self-fashioned Mountain Man, he'd never let Canyon go. That he would still jump at the very first opportunity that would let them be together again… … as he did now, here on loop #19. And he had no intention of looking back. Zaul and Canyon rode on, down the road and onto the next town over. There, they ate, rested, talked and got to know each other some more.

It was a nice place: quiet, surrounded by nature, and welcoming of a couple of weary travelers. They stayed a while. A whole week, in fact. Sightseeing, getting to know the locals, hunting for game to keep themselves well-fed. A whole week passed, and the world didn't try to turn black once. Not even a shade of gray. At first, Zaul was terrified every time he closed his eyes to sleep at night.

Terrified that when he opened them again, he would find himself back on horseback, back in that damnable forest with its too many monsters and impossible mission that refused to reveal itself. But after a week of waking up next to Canyon's sleeping figure, his fears went away. From then on, all was right with the world. And all he needed to do was live his life. The life he always wanted, next to the woman who made him whole. A week turned into months into years into decades.

Zaul and Canyon traveled the known world together. Every corner of Stormvast from the somber forests of Leafell to the lapping shores of Basinside to even the sightless peaks of Cloudgate. Until one day they both decided, as if by unspoken agreement, to settle down. They chose the idyllic highlands of Featherift as their final destination. Zaul knew his own reason for the choice, of course, though he wasn't quite sure why his other half had agreed to it.

Together, they built a hut in the middle of a grassy plain as flat and wide as the eye could see. There, they led a quiet and humble life as befitted a couple of retired adventurers, only occasionally riding into the market to mingle and trade tales with travelers far younger than themselves. But as the years continued to wear on, it became harder and harder for Zaul to ignore… a kind of yearning deep in his heart.

In his younger days, the yearning felt more like an outside force: a call to action from the larger world, for him to get his act together and perform his duties—maybe even to restart that long-neglected mission. On more than a few occasions, letters and envoys from Morrowtide had found him and Canyon on the road, urging the former to return to his own kingdom, no doubt to pick up from where he'd left off on what was once meant to be his life's work. Well, decades had passed since those younger days.

Decades since the last letter, the last envoy. And here, in the twilight of his life, Zaul Wreathworn found that the yearning never went away. That it had been inside him all along, urging him toward a dream that had long lost its shape, luster, and meaning. It's too late now, he tried to tell himself. I'm an old man, and it's too late for me to chase the unknown, to cultivate what once might have been my untapped potential. Besides, I'm perfectly happy where I ended up. Here, next to the love of my life.

Having seen the world and done everything it offered. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Right here, right now, I have all that I ever wanted. It began with a cough. Dry, innocuous, and understated like everything else about her. She'd smiled that serene smile of hers and told him that it was nothing to worry about. That the weather was getting warmer, and with it, her little chest cold would go away. But it didn't go away. Never got worse, either.

It was always the same cough: dry, understated, but no longer innocuous. It seemed to sap her energy day by day, like an [Exhaustion] Affliction that just refused to go away. Before long, she was bedridden. And soon after that, she wouldn't—couldn't—eat. A dozen and more doctors came to see her at Zaul's bidding, some from far-flung corners of Stormvast—all friends of Zaul's and Canyon's from their adventuring days. They all said the same thing. That hers was a sickness like no other.

A sickness no human magic could touch. Something more than human had wormed its way into the core of Canyon's being—perhaps had always been there since the very beginning—and it was this that now broke down in the twilight of her life, beyond the ability of human healers to repair, to restore, to prolong. Zaul thought he'd been ready for it. After all, he and Canyon had spent a literal lifetime together. They both knew that they weren't long for this world.

They'd resolved—both in their own ways—to meet the end with the dignity that their lives deserved. Zaul thought he'd been ready, but he'd thought wrong. For as he sat by Canyon's bedside and watched her fade, the yearning inside him only grew stronger. The yearning was a veritable fire now: burning with anguish, burning to purify—to turn to cinders everything he and Canyon had built together over a shared lifetime."

It's alright," she'd whispered to him with her dying breath, "I give you leave to go where you need to be. To do what you were always meant for. In other words… you may proceed."" No!" Zaul had refused the call once more— one last time —eyes wrinkled with age yet brimming with tears as hot as any he'd shed in his youth.

"No, Canyon, you can't. Don't do this, not again. Don't leave—" The tears had vanished in an instant, and so too had Canyon's dying smile, sucked into the blackness that once more filled Zaul's world. [Between Two Lives]: Time remaining: 74 days, 4 hours, 15 minutes Zaul led his horse to the pondside but didn't dismount. The gazebo stood just behind him, its stone seat left unoccupied.

The lotus leaves floated in perfect stillness, looking the same as they ever did, in loop #20 or in the 19 loops that had preceded it. The sunlight rippled across the water, as if in playful protest of its counterpart's inertness. It occurred to Zaul, then, that the pond was like his own mind, his own being. A part of it was resolute in its stillness, unchanging, demanding the world to meet it on its own terms.

Another part was restless, shifting, ever eager to leave its mark yet forgetting itself in the very next moment. Even now, Zaul's memories of the previous loops danced and jumped and evaporated like the sunlight. He could no longer recall what had happened on loop #19. He only knew that it had been a looong loop—long, fulfilling, happy, everything that he'd ever wanted and more. He knew also that he could never go back.

That he needed to proceed —to go forward—if he ever wanted to find his way out of this forest of lost souls. And so, on loop #20, Zaul never dismounted. He never waited for the hoofbeats and the figure that would surely emerge from the woods. Never sat and planned out a route through the forest—the decision points that he'd mistakenly believed would lead to either game over or a good ending. How could he have been so misguided?

To have believed that a 'good ending' awaited him, when he'd barely set foot on his journey? When he'd done so little, and when so much more yet awaited, no matter who was or wasn't by his side along the way? And so, on loop #20, Zaul rolled the dice on an ability check. The easiest check of his existence, in this life or the next or perhaps another one way, way, way down the line. If he'd tried this on loop #1, it might have proven [Impossible]. Yet, right now, it was the only answer he'd ever known.

[Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma DC 1 (Very Easy)] Thy past shall set thee free, that thou mayest proceed with thy tale yet unwritten. First Roll: 8 Second Roll: 10 Third Roll: 14 Fourth Roll: 11 Fifth Roll: 1 Sixth Roll: 20 Average: 11 Final: 44 Result: success Zaul rode into the forest on his own. He didn't know the way, could no longer remember it. It didn't matter. Because he'd made the choice. The one and only choice that ever mattered. The world never turned black.

It instead fell away, bit by bit, until Jordan found himself back in the room with the three portals.