Interlude 1.4

When Rae entered the pocket dimension, Ridwan was sitting on the living room couch with a book in hand. Relief settled in Rae’s chest. It was rare to catch Ridwan alone now that the immortal was training Lian and Peter, and while Rae had no problems with Lian or Peter, this conversation was one Rae preferred to have in their absence.

Perhaps sensing Rae’s intentions, Ridwan closed their book with a snap and turned to face Rae.

“How can I help you?” they said curtly.

“You can help with my reward,” Rae replied, taking a seat on the couch next to Ridwan. “You promised to lend some of your expertise to the community organizations I’m involved with, and we’ve run into a problem as of late.”

Ridwan raised an eyebrow. “What kind of problem?”

Rae sighed. “I’m sure you know this already, but one of the organizations I am a part of has been drafting a proposal addressing economic inequity at a city level. It’s unlikely that the city council will actually act upon the proposal, considering the fact that half of the council answers to the Soul Stealers, but… it’s better than doing nothing at all.”

Ridwan nodded in understanding.

“Everything seems to be going well. But…” Rae trailed off, xyr brow furrowed.

“Something is still bothering you,” Ridwan finished.

“Yeah.” Rae worried xyr bottom lip with xyr teeth. “There’s no evidence to support any of what I’m about to say—not really—but it seems like a few of our members are feeling alienated by our most recent course of action. I tried to reach out to those folks to see if we could address their concerns, but I didn’t get any responses back, and now I’m wondering if I’ve overstepped.”

“I see.” Ridwan set their book on the coffee table. “I don’t think you’ve overstepped at all. If anything, I’d argue that your next step needs to be more aggressive.”

Rae raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You feel like you’re watching a train wreck waiting to happen, no?” Ridwan prompted. Rae nodded.

“Well, there’s your answer, then,” Ridwan said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You should intercept.”

“Intercept how?” Rae asked, leaning back in xyr seat. “Should I just try again?”

“If you reach out again without doing any thinking on the matter, you’re going to come up empty,” Ridwan said, shaking their head. “Try to put yourself in the shoes of a dissenter. Examine the organization’s efforts not as one of the leading members but as an outsider looking in. Interrogate every aspect of the organization’s proposal, and look for problems even where you think there are none. Then, once you’ve tried to build a case as to why these people might be a little dissatisfied, reach out again—but this time with a more specific, directed approach.”

“You mean, like asking them if they’re concerned about any of the problems I’ve identified?” Rae wondered.

“That is probably how a good person would approach the situation, yes,” Ridwan answered. “And in most cases, that is the proper approach. But if you suspect someone is acting in bad faith, or perhaps you’re worried there’s a Soul Stealer among your ranks, there are less… honest ways of tackling the situation. In those cases, I’m not below pretending to be a dissenter myself to smoke out the traitor.”

Rae balked. “That seems needlessly manipulative.”

“Maybe so,” Ridwan agreed. Their expression hardened. “I’m personally of the opinion that it’s better to engage in a little deceit than to find yourself stabbed in the back.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Rae noted.

“Because I am.” Ridwan’s voice was practically dripping with bitterness. “If it were just my well-being at stake, I wouldn’t resort to such extremes, but when there’s more at stake…” Ridwan trailed off.

“So the ends justify the means, then?” Rae prompted. Ridwan shook their head.

“It’s not that. It’s just… if you notice a problem and you fail to act on your instincts, and then that problem escalates and causes harm to people you care about, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering if you should’ve done something different.”

Rae’s frown deepened. Ridwan’s advice up to now had been fairly generalizable but with that last statement, something in the immortal’s tone had shifted. Clearly, Ridwan was speaking about a very specific experience now. It felt too insensitive to ask outright, but Rae was curious—what kind of experience would leave such deep scars that someone with eternal life would profess lifelong regret over it?

Something Karyme had told him earlier tugged at the back of his mind.

Did you know The Necromancer used to be one of them?

“This isn’t about organizing anymore, is it,” Rae guessed. Ridwan stared impassively at the opposing wall. For a second, Rae was afraid that he’d overstepped. Then, Ridwan let out a weary sigh.

“Just trust your instincts,” Ridwan intoned. “You’ve got a good eye.”

My instincts, huh? Right now, Rae’s instincts were telling him that Ridwan was unnecessarily bottling up a lot of complicated emotions about The Necromancer, but Rae wasn’t even going to try to unpack that.

“If you’re feeling such deep regret, then maybe there’s something you could do to reduce the harm you indirectly created,” Rae said instead. “Being a wanted criminal doesn’t preclude you from direct action.”

A wry smile crossed Ridwan’s face. “You’re just trying to get me to help your organization write that proposal, aren’t you.”

“Maaaybe,” Rae said with a grin. “But hey, you can’t deny that you’d enjoy it. You seem like the type to get antsy sitting around doing nothing.”

Ridwan laughed. “Guilty as charged.” Their expression softened, and for the first time, they made eye contact with Rae. “You’re not bad, kid. I’ll help out however I can.”

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter