Life, Arden thought, is all about give and take. Nothing is freely given. I must seize what I want when the opportunity presents itself.
Consuming the power of some strange, unknown portal to the shadow plane had seemed such an attractive idea in the moment. The reality, though, was much more painful than he could have ever imagined.
Shadows washed in in from every corner like rotting kelp — slimy, repulsive, reeking of…something. Unidentifiable smell. Pain bloomed in his chest, radiating out. Pain that should have been hot, not cold like a knife of ice carving into him.
Voices. Silas, speaking in the silky flow of Shadowtongue. Another- his? No, not his own. A voice in his mind. Shadows were there, too, they were always there. Shadows of a life left behind, of a life he took for himself. Everything is earned or stolen. Nothing is freely given. Nothing.
This, too, has its price.
Searing light flooded his vision, the pain unbearable. Someone screaming. Lungs sharp like breathing on the coldest night of Winter. Too much. Too much. Too much. So cold.
Then nothing.
The first payment was warmth. He was cold, so cold. The air around him seemed determined to remind him that warmth was a luxury. It was not meant for unwanted urchins who had never owned a blanket. It was not meant for a scholar in the field, digging through ancient refuse piles in search of a piece of knowledge not yet known. It was not meant for an adventurer who had taken to a life on the road. No matter how closely he sat to the fire or how tightly he wrapped his overcoat around himself, the chill managed to stay.
The second payment was color. Arden was vain; he knew this well. Every detail of his appearance had been carefully crafted to show a warm, trustworthy, reputable man. As the days passed, the color began to leech from his skin. The once warm olive color he loved became dulled, sickly. A corpse-like grey seemed to have settled beneath it. His eyes, his beautiful sapphire blue had faded. When he stared at himself in the mirror, no longer were his eyes glittering jewels. One had become more akin to ice at sea. Cold. Pale. The deep purple didn’t seem to have been affected. It still stood out starkly, as if it were mocking him. I am a reminder of what you no longer have.
The third payment was perhaps the worst. The doubt and regret had flooded him. He had never been overly religious, just the quick prayer to Soralyon before an excavation, but he couldn’t help but feel he had committed a grave sin — not against any deity, but against his own heart. He had never been overly ambitious. All he had strived for was a comfortable life where he would never again feel the grip of hunger or the bite of the night wind.
Yet life is all about give and take. Nothing is freely given.
He had gone to Halun in shame. She and Roderick had not offered him a new life in their lands so that he could learn that his lust and gluttony had consumed him so thoroughly in that moment, that split-second decision.
And yet, Halun gave freely. Warmth. Kindness. Tea. Comfort.
She expected nothing in return.
Why?
Arden left Halun as he contemplated their conversation. Everyone wanted something. He just couldn’t figure out what it was Halun truly wanted as payment.
Was there really nothing that she would ask of him?
Faine’s appearance startled him. He had avoided them since he made that oh-so-selfish decision. He hadn’t been brave enough to look them in the eye since. He had felt untethered, drifting through the days as if he were just another shadow himself. There, yet not.
Suddenly, he felt what he sought so desperately. Warmth. Two warm hands on either side of his face. No gloves, he noted. Unusual.
I thought you’d be colder.
This, he realized, is what anchored him. Not his appearance, not his abilities, but the people he cared about. As he listened to Faine, who called him stupid and brave and did not pass judgement on him, he imagined he could feel that lost warmth come back to him. His touch may always feel like a cool Fall morning for the rest of his days, but that would be okay.
He knew where he could find warmth again and it was not the roaring fire that they sat beside that evening.
It was love, in so many forms and from so many people.
And it was freely given.
No payment necessary.
