I could taste the bitterness in her words as the Ar'Tuel lamented about Lye and her place in his life. Didn't take an apprentice empathomancer to see that it cut her deeply to be nothing more to the bastard than a place to keep his limp bits warm during the long, cold Salvar nights. Which, in turn, made me feel like an asshole when she brought up the fact that he gave me the map leading to the First Sanctum, and not her.

But... Fuck it. He wasn't around anymore to skulk in the shadows and glower at me if I were to tell her about it, so what harm could it do?

"He sent me to the First Sanctum," I said plainly. Didn't bother to check for any response as I plowed on through. "He was the only one to know of it's existence, right? So you'd think that there lay the biggest weapons and darkest secrets of the Crimson Hand. But when I looked around, all I found was dust and ghosts. The last remnants of the shell of a man that became the Master Hand. Relics of a life long since forfeit, left to rot away as the years pass."

I continued to watch the flickering flames in the fireplace and play with Amari's fiery red hair, the tips of my fingers running along her scalp. The itchiness was becoming more bearable as the magic coursing through my vines restored itself to full power. "I assume that he set up the place long after his wife and kid died. Found portraits of them together as a happy family underneath some sheets. Lots of furniture and shit too. Probably from his old house. Not sure why he'd keep them there, though. Perhaps he used it as a hideaway when he needed to get away from it all.

"As he handed me the map that night, he told me that once I saw it all, I'd appreciate what everything's been about. All of his machinations, his games within games, all of this bullshit." An unreadable look passed across my briarknit face as I continued. "I hesitate to call it a manifesto, but I found a small journal that contained a lot of ideas and plans. Ramblings of a broken man more often than not, but I can see what he was trying to get at."

I wasn't sure if I should go further in-depth on the matter. As the two of us sat there pressed against each other, best friends until the end, I decided that I'd drop the subject and try to ease her depressed feelings on being nothing more than a tool.

"It's got nothing to do with him wanting anything to do with you. Honestly, I think he gave me the map because I'm one of the few people to ever get the upper-hand on him." I offered a soft shrug of my shoulders. "Shit, I took control of the Hand from him and buried him under the mountain for a year. Aurelianus and I tortured and re-educated the poor bastard the entire time. I don't know what truly went on inside his noggin, but maybe a bit of his humanity came back. Maybe he developed a bit of respect for me. Or could've been fear, or subservience, or whatnot." I made the conscious choice to leave out the second journal I found, the one where he wrote out his thoughts and feelings about that year festering in his own dark prison, the one where he called me one of his few friends in this cold, cold world. Amari didn't need to know that. It'd probably break the poor girl even more.

Maybe I should've dropped that little truth bomb when I had my hands wrapped around her neck, desperate to find a way for her to trigger her soul blowing up half of Salvar.

But it was time to truly change the subject. Lighten the mood a bit. Was getting too morose in the chamber.

"Titfaun, though?" I allowed myself a smile. "That's a new one. I'll have to remember that in case I ever see Philomel again. The thought of her straddling someone's pretty scary, though. She always seemed a bit heavier than she really looks. Wouldn't want her to break my hip."

I leaned in closer, inches away from Amari's ear, mischief in my voice. "I bet she bleats during it, too. Just like a goat."