Jigano glanced to the side at the voice in his mind, but of course there was nothing there to see. "I wish there was anything I could say to help," he said softly, but it was too late for that by far. Centuries or more too late, in fact, and Ludo did not seem like the type to accept sympathy from a mortal.
Their walk continued, and even though he couldn't feel the temperature of the snowy night his heart grew colder and heavier in his chest with every door that turned the youth away. It was not hard to see the direction the tale was heading. Tragedy hung heavy in the air and he was too familiar with the darker endings not to see one coming.
That didn't mean it hurt less, and though he considered hardening his heart to what was happening it seemed too much like a disservice to the small light that burned so desperately in the darkness ahead of him. He followed on feet that left no prints in the snow, trailed his fingers across walls that rippled without resistance to his touch, and saw the midnight search come to its heart-breaking conclusion.
He was medic enough to recognize the signs of frostbite, and his jaw tightened as time passed and no one came. Eventually the child's shivering eased to stillness, and the puff of breath came more slowly. Jigano was jaded and bitter and tarnished to his very soul from what he had done, but standing and watching the young one dying slowly in front of his eyes while he was helpless to stop it, was a special kind of cruelty... even if it was nothing compared to what the youth endured.
He might not be able to touch the world around him, or change the course of the dream of history he had fallen into, but he still moved at last to sit near the youngling, unwilling to leave even the dream of a lost soul alone to face an end that was long since past. "And where were you when the light returned?" he asked quietly to the voice inside his head. "Was Mort waiting, when you... when they breathed their last? Or was the god lost in the dark as well, until the sun rose again?"
Their walk continued, and even though he couldn't feel the temperature of the snowy night his heart grew colder and heavier in his chest with every door that turned the youth away. It was not hard to see the direction the tale was heading. Tragedy hung heavy in the air and he was too familiar with the darker endings not to see one coming.
That didn't mean it hurt less, and though he considered hardening his heart to what was happening it seemed too much like a disservice to the small light that burned so desperately in the darkness ahead of him. He followed on feet that left no prints in the snow, trailed his fingers across walls that rippled without resistance to his touch, and saw the midnight search come to its heart-breaking conclusion.
He was medic enough to recognize the signs of frostbite, and his jaw tightened as time passed and no one came. Eventually the child's shivering eased to stillness, and the puff of breath came more slowly. Jigano was jaded and bitter and tarnished to his very soul from what he had done, but standing and watching the young one dying slowly in front of his eyes while he was helpless to stop it, was a special kind of cruelty... even if it was nothing compared to what the youth endured.
He might not be able to touch the world around him, or change the course of the dream of history he had fallen into, but he still moved at last to sit near the youngling, unwilling to leave even the dream of a lost soul alone to face an end that was long since past. "And where were you when the light returned?" he asked quietly to the voice inside his head. "Was Mort waiting, when you... when they breathed their last? Or was the god lost in the dark as well, until the sun rose again?"
