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    Yeoldebard
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Nekromancer - 93. Chapter 93

Jeremy opened the door slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light in the inn room. Amnor Sen was sitting cross legged on the bed, and Jeremy knew he wasn’t supposed to be there, shouldn’t be interrupting. But he needed to talk to the elf.

“I have nothing more to say to you Jeremy Fairchild.”

Fuck, he wasn’t just angry, he was fullname angry. Jeremy took a breath, closing the door behind him as he entered the room. He crossed the space, standing next to his husband, so close he could almost feel the rage simmering under the paladin’s surface. The cleric had never seen Amnor Sen this angry, not at him at least. But he needed to try one more time.

“Then don’t say anything. But Jakun made me question this. Why do I want to take on a quest that will have such finality? For a variety of reasons. To help a former slave, to give him a chance at life again. But also for you Amnor Sen. You have lived your life among mortals, among humans, watching the ones you love die. I would be just another in a long line of deaths. But if I succeed, if I achieved immortality-”

“Then you would be thrust in the same position. I’m going to die someday, and what would you do then? Try to storm Pharasma’s Boneyard to get me back? Four people have completed this trial in 4700 years. Do you really think either you or Jakun have a chance at surviving? You would throw your life away on something as meaningless as immortality, and be forced to watch those around you wither and die, if you even survive,” Amnor Sen snapped. “Look at Jakun, at what immortality has already done to his mind. Can you withstand that? And what would the gods say of your attempt? Would they accept the soul of someone who had the gall to be their equal?”

“We could do this together. It’s always been us against the world Amnor Sen. Why couldn’t we take immortality at the point of our blades? Become gods, and we could raise armies, storm the depths of hell together-”

“I don’t want any of that!”

The elf glared at his husband, rising to his feet. Jeremy took a stumbling step back, not prepared for the intensity of Amnor Sen’s gaze. His resolve wavered, but he pushed back, forcing himself to meet his husband’s scowl.

“It’s been you against the world Jeremy. I’ve just been following behind, cleaning up your messes. Don’t try to act like you’re on some holy calling, you’re a drunkard who one god approves of. It’s not the same,” the elf snapped. “Your so called adventures have a habit of putting us in mortal danger, of forcing me to fight people who could be saved. You have made me question almost every basic tenet of my faith every day that we are together. It shames me that I have taken this long to realize it.”

Jeremy winced at the venom in his voice, poised to strike back, to attack this elf who assaulted his own faith.

“You want a simple life of work then, of toil. It’s admirable, but what would you accomplish with your life? Who would you inspire? What mark would you leave on the world? Art? A sculpture swept under the sands of time?”

“I don’t need one. I am satisfied with serving Shelyn with my heart and soul, not trying to supplant her! And if I am remembered for what I’ve done, good, maybe I’ll inspire another smith. If I fade into obscurity, so be it. I’ll have lived my life, and that’s all I need.”

“Jakun is attempting it regardless of what we do. Amnor Sen. Would you leave him to his fate? To fight alone in a maze of horrors?”

“Yes. He is far better prepared than we are. I will guard his phylactery, and that will be my contribution to this foolishness. Even he doesn’t stand a chance, but I’m learning that won’t stop him. He needs to learn the hard way. It is only because I love you that I am trying to stop you.”

The elf sighed, turning back to the bed. He took a series of deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

“Why are you still here Jeremy? You’ve already made your decision. We’re done; I cannot follow you anymore.”

“Because I love you, and I can’t let you go,” the human said. “We’ve crossed half the world together. I’m not giving you up. If I survive my trial, I will return for you. And I will fight for you, to be with you again. You are my songbird, Amnor Sen, and I’m never letting you forget that.”

“No Jeremy. I was. But not any more. I have tried so hard to get you to see. Your actions have consequences. And yet you blindly rush into things. You drink, you brawl, you have little regard for the lives of people around you. You are good, but you are so chaotic it hurts. More often than not, you stumble into being good. I can’t do this anymore.”

Amnor Sen removed a thin band from his finger, setting it on the desk nearby.

“Maybe this is what it will take to show you, you can’t just drink your way through life. You can’t bulldoze through situations and expect everything to be fine. We’re done Jeremy.”

The elf grabbed his bag, pushing past the stunned man. The door opened before closing a second later with a sense of finality, and yet Jeremy remained where he was, his eyes staring at the gold band that had held them together for years.

Crossing the room, he reached for the ring, running his fingers over the warm metal. Images flashed through his mind, of the day he had bought the ring, had the Shelynite priestess inscribe the Kellish lettering on the inside. So many years, so many adventures… and now it was done, he had lost the elf, the man he loved. His songbird.

He would keep his promise. He would be back, and he would show Amnor Sen that his love was eternal. Jeremy took the ring, slipping it into his pocket as he turned to leave the room. His resolve hardened; he was going to succeed in the trial. There was nothing holding him back anymore.

Copyright © 2020 Yeoldebard; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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