a thousand times he’d thrown himself into danger to save those who couldn’t save themselves. The best times of his life had been when he’d saved others, whether by going after wights, sinking pirates and slavers, killing bandits, stopping the Blood Wars. And the worst times of his life had been the times he’d failed to protect those he’d loved: He’d failed to protect Sevastian. Failed to protect Marissia. Failed to protect Kip. Failed to protect Karris—because he couldn’t do it alone. And he’d always been alone.
“I stand for them,” Gavin said. “Well . . . stood.”
And then his voice lowered to a low, piteous tone utterly unbefitting the Prism he’d once been. It was the voice of that helpless boy, in an empty, beautiful mansion in a storm, holding the lifeless body of his little brother. With a voice shot through with tears and weakness, he said, “I stood for them. Who stands for me?”
Gavin looked away. He didn’t dare see what might be in the old man’s eyes now. He couldn’t handle pity, and one I-told-you-so and Gavin was going to throw himself off this goddam tower.
He didn’t need an answer. When had he given anyone the chance to stand for him? Or even beside him? When had he asked? No, Gavin had wanted to be the big hero, partly from vanity so he’d be seen as a hero, and partly from pride that only he could do whatever was required, but also partly from fear at losing whomever he might have asked.
Gavin said, “I failed everyone I love, and I’ve not loved those who deserve it and needed it. What do I . . . what do I do with that?”
When Orholam didn’t answer, Gavin began to lift his gaze to the old prophet, when he saw a tear splash in the blood between them, a momentary pinprick bleaching the red stream. “Love as you are, Dazen. Sometimes a broken mirror serves best.”
“Ha! Oh yeah? When?! When bits of it are tied into a cat-o’-nine so it can tear flesh, like with that little shit Alvaro?” Gavin turned away. He couldn’t look at Orholam’s face. “Besides, I wasn’t looking for an answer.”
It was a lie, though. Of course he was.
“Your dark night was lived every day in the sun. And was darkest on the brightest day of the year. In the full view of unseeing thousands, you felt alone.”
Gavin grunted an assent.
“If only there were someone you could have talked to.”
“I had no one.”
“I was suggesting you might have talked to Me.”
Ha. “I feared if I looked too closely, the whole thing would fall apart.”
“It would’ve,” Orholam said.
Gavin blinked. “What do you mean, like maybe afterward I could have put it back together better or something?”
“No. Not alone. But there would’ve been many willing hands, ready to help.”
“If they had a leader maybe. Sevastian.”
“No. You. There was always a key role for you to play.”
“Right. Whatever.”
“I sent others, over the centuries. Some denied the call. Others were killed. Others were seduced, corrupted before they could fulfill their purpose. The sea demons, for example.”
“ The—wait, what?”
“Lucidonius was to be the Lightbringer. He turned aside. Chose conquest. Sought godhood. And then, in terror of my judgment, he sought immortality. He soul-cast himself into the gentle creature that had been his servant and friend. Lucidonius became the first sea demon. He swims still. All the later ones took their inspiration from him.”
He swims still? Gavin’s jaw went slack. He’d fought Lucidonius himself: the greatest of the sea demons had smashed the Golden Mean onto the reef.
“Wait, wait, wait, how come no one at the Chromeria told me this?” he asked. “I was the Prism. The emperor! I was even promachos for a while!”
“Would you tell Gavin Guile how to find immortality, knowing what it would cost everyone else?” the old prophet asked.
My God. That was the real reason Karris Atiriel had created the Blackguard: they guarded the black secret. What had seemed the contradictory goals of guarding his life and ensuring his death weren’t opposed at all: they guarded the Prism and his honor—by forcibly marching him to an honorable death, if necessary. As brothers in arms would kill a compatriot drafter out of mercy if she broke the halo, so the Blackguard would kill the Prism before they’d let him become a monster forever. “You’re telling me the sea demons are all former Prisms?”
A gentle head shake. “Most were, and all those who remain are, but the magic is