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523 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 17, 2025
“Remember: you are an unknown element. They shall be seeking desperately to determine which box to place you in. Don’t let them. When in doubt, just smile. There is no need to answer any question, whether direct or indirect. Smile, incline your head as if acknowledging their wit, and then… just walk away.”
A moment later he stopped before them, and Harald realized the man had his own distinct scent. He smelled of wild, dark, green places, of the earth and trees, of shadowed dells and still ponds lost under dense canopies.
“This is terrible.” Vic dragged at this face with both hands, distending his features. “Spending time in your company is absolutely terrible for my self-esteem. You make me feel like an underachiever, but not on my own terms.”
“Think of people as mirrors. When they are born, they reflect the world with unblemished, naive perfection. But life is all hammers. Sooner or later, we’re hurt, broken, sundered into hundreds of fragments, both large and small. We become wounded, bitter, resentful, suspicious. We stop being one person, and become a dozen. One version with our friends, another with our employer, a third with our lover. The harder the blow, the greater the fragmentation. I’ve heard it said that one’s goal in life shouldn’t be power or wealth, but repairing one’s mirror and becoming whole once more. To be the same no matter in whose company one finds oneself in.”
The man he’d once been, the harried, haunted boy desperate for approval, had focused all his energies on impressing others, on figuring out who he needed to be so as to fit in, to belong.
The end result was that he’d felt as if he’d belonged nowhere. Now that he no longer cared? Suddenly he felt as if he had a core, a foundation under his feet, a sense of self that nobody could assail.
“Oh. So the Fallen Angel… plucked you from Ironvokol, and set you here to wait for raiders?” The hobgoblin’s heavy brow lowered. “No. I am an Ironok, not the Ironok.”
His thoughts began to grow rigid, aligning themselves with the concerns and focal points of his new Class. He became other than what he had been. Still Kársek, but no longer Kársek the Earth Mover. Over the course of many long hours, he became Kársek the DreadRune. His soul shuddered and creaked. Fissures opened and sealed as it sought to encapsulate what would be needed of it.
“I had no idea you could prove so… persuasive,” she said at last. “You showed no sign of such… overwhelming force of character before.”
“I’m a little shocked myself,” grinned Harald, determined to set her at ease. “Also, I doubt anyone would spend any time with me if I went around talking like that. ‘Pass me the butter, for destiny commands it.’ Right?”