Duffy glanced to the side and saw the look on his brother’s face.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“Oh, gods, no. For once, it’s because I believe you.”

Everything had led to this point. Nobody had quite wanted to believe that Duffy’s proclamations after his return from the void where the Thayne resides were even remotely true. The historical accounts of the War of the Tap were widely known, even in the youngest ranks of enquiring minds. There were more books on the topic than there were coffee shops in the hippest parts of Scara Brae.

“To think such things seems strange.”

“It makes sense, though. When powerful men find a way to keep that power, no matter the cost, it’s too corrupting to resist.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels…” Leopold had fought and nearly lost everything to remain amongst the pantheon of the Old Gods whilst having the fortune of love. “We were always lead to believe the war was about keeping the Tap. Being free of the Thayne.”

“It sorts of was. The Thayne tried to eradicate the pure wielders of the Tap and they tried to destroy anyone who would dare threaten them.” Duffy traced a path for them to take over the crags as the tundra fought against their advance. Leopold considered and nodded in agreement. “We are no different.”

“We’re very different. We want to keep hold of our power so that we can keep doing good. Keep the balance.” Even as he said it, he doubted himself. The tenets ingrained in the Chronicle had seemed so pure and righteous a decade ago. So much had happened since, he doubted it still held sway over his actions.

“We can tell ourselves whatever we want to make our actions right. But we have an opportunity to finish what we started and bring the truth to light.” Duffy drew a dagger from his belt and used it to help himself up the steep incline and practically crawled up onto the highest reaches of the Ahyark.

“What truth do you hope to find?” Leopold disappeared in a whorl of purple power and re-appeared atop the crest, feathers floating away from his fading wings. He looked down at the bard, who looked back begrudgingly. He held out his hand to help him up.

“I want to know what makes a man who transcended godhood scared.” Duffy let Leopold lift him to his feet and dusted himself down. White clods of snow dropped to the floor and he clicked his spine. “And beat the last bit of hope out of the cunt.” The smile he gave Leopold struck an accord.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Leopold tipped his hat. “If you’d opened with ‘kick the bastard when he’s down’ I’d have run all the way to the mountain range singing folk songs.” He really would. The way he felt lately, not quite invincible, but a little bit more eager to get balls deep into the moment would have made short work of the leagues between here and there.