A last strike at the heart

Alexis put a hand to her head as she was reeling from … whatever this was and the vertigo of disorientation it left.

A vision of things to come, maybe? Or a spiteful last strike from that creature before it lost its last tether to this world?
It certainly hadn’t been exactly friendly back then.

Did it matter?
When she had met Omen, even after Zane had put a stop to her offer, Alexis had come to the conclusion that she would not have taken her deal anyway.
If fate was as sat in stone that the gifted could see it unfold without a doubt, then knowing it would not change it. And if it could be changed, then any given outcome was one of many. A peek into that in her mind was not worth a part of her past. A part of her self.

And if that vision was true? Then its greatest horror was its implication of the one to deliver her end. Not her death itself. A death on the battlefield had always been likely. Maybe even preferred.

“That… was unpleasant…”
she whispered.

Bearing witness to all this had stirred up again the whirlwind of emotions and guilt that had been her constant companion throughout those last few days. Magik, gods, her broken code.
She wasn’t sure if she was strong or smart enough to deal with any of that. Alas. She would simply have to try, wouldn’t she?

She looked at Voah, one who had dedicated herself to the service of the gods. Alexis wondered wether all this, this proof of the presence of the gods gave her resolve. Gave her guidance.

She wondered if there could be comfort in such devotion for her, too. If there could be relief in just putting her trust in the gods, and let them guide her way.

And found the answer to be … no.

With all that had happened she had no more doubt that higher powers were at work. That the gods were closer here in Arcadia than they had ever been on Helias. But they were also ever fickle.

To give a chance to do the impossible and find the friends that by all rights should not have been found. But offer no help when two good men turned on each other poisoned by mould.
To send the knights of Salos moments before the fate of the last survivors would have been sealed. But only then. Not when there had been many more alive that could have been saved.

No. She accepted the presence of the gods. Would offer them respect and reference as she had been taught her whole life. Be ever grateful when they did grant their aid.

But her guidance came from within. And she knew now what it meant for her to go astray from it.
For all the anguish breaking her code had brought her, it had also silenced that ever present voice, fed by everyone that would shake their head at her ‘foolish morals’. That voice that questioned why she even bothered, that insisted the code was pointless, a chore with no return, that nothing and no one cared anyway. Well. Now she knew how it felt to leave it behind. And she knew now, with no sliver of a doubt left - she would not. For the better or the worse.
Unlike her father, she had never really made an oath. She had simply been living by the ideals he had taught her, holding onto them to honor him after his death.
Maybe it was time to truly make them her own, not just keep them as an memento.
Yes, she would very likely fail again. Ultimately she was just human. Fallible and weak. But that was no excuse to ever stop trying.

She breathed deeply, composing herself. Looked at her circle of friends that she would to have to part ways with very soon.
It felt like an eternity ago that she had walked alone. Not for long, or so she hoped, but… maybe it was a blessing in disguise. A time to turn her gaze inward.

If the gods were listening and feeling benevolent, she’d ask them to watch over all of them and let their paths cross again. Until then she’d keep them with her, in her heart.