Fourth Interlude - Banish The Shadows

For the first time since the start of the game, they weren't returned to Rata Sum between rounds. Jean stepped blinking from the asura gate to find himself within a walled compound, grey rock overhead and underfoot, the smell of snow in the air. The Durmand Priory, at a guess; Jean didn't know how Yinn had negotiated the use of Pact transportation equipment, but it was better than walking all the way back to Lion's Arch.

Yinn himself was ahead of them, just leaving the compound. As for the competitors... Only three teams remained. The pirates had apparently left the fourth round early on; Yelazar, of course, was returning in a coffin. The Marauders and Jean's own family had got off relatively lightly, whilst the Nth Degree had apparently got lost somewhere in Malchor's Leap and never made it into Cursed Shore. They had, at least, survived to progress to the next round.

Which just left Light's Memory. Amber and Erin were with Yinn's other staff, somewhere ahead. Jean suspected they were distinctly out of favour, even if they had saved Yinn's life. The game came first, and in that respect, they'd broken the rules.

Jean caught up to Marissa on the main floor of the Priory. She was heading towards an armourer, but Jean caught her arm. "We can leave right now," he said. "Down those steps, follow the road to Lion's Arch–"

"Yinn is paying to send us all back to Rata Sum," Marissa interrupted. "Today or tomorrow, I was told."

"And you're just going with him?"

Marissa shrugged. She actually shrugged. Jean couldn't imagine a gesture that was less like his sister. "We can at least rest here for a few hours," she said, eyeing the high hallway around them. "This place has few fears for me now."

Now that she knew Artair was no longer a member of the Priory, Jean guessed. He let go of her arm, but this time she didn't head toward the marketplace. Instead, she began walking down the gentle slope into the shadowed depths of the building. Jean followed.

Halfway down, they were passed by a covered trolley, a disgruntled looking Yinn storming after it. Marissa stopped and Jean did the same, bowing his head. He hadn't liked Yelazar in life, but he wasn't devoid of respect.

Even when the trolley was gone, Marissa didn't move. Jean gently steered her toward the side of the corridor, out of the way of a group of chattering young scholars. "It was necessary," he said, keeping his voice low. "Yelazar made it necessary."

"I know." Marissa's voice was rough. "If someone is to mourn the Carver, it will not be me."

They were silent for several moments, watching the flow of people. The Marauders went past, Vasha tugging knots out of her grimy, red-gold hair as she trailed in Roan's wake. She saw Jean, stared at him for a moment, then gave a nod of recognition. Jean returned it, trying not to shudder. She'd saved his life and he wasn't ungrateful for that... But he thought he'd still be able to feel Rotbeard's hands around his throat until the die he died – a long way from Orr, hopefully.

"You saved me from him," Marissa said abruptly, startling Jean from his study of Vasha's retreating head. "I never thanked you for that."

"I'm not sure I–"

"You did." Marissa swung towards him. "I would have allied myself with Yelazar quite gladly. You were the only one who saw how dangerous that would be. How alike we were."

"I never thought you were like Yelazar," Jean said softly. He sank to the floor and waited until Marissa had done the same. "I knew he was bad news, but I didn't think you were the same."

Was that a lie, at least a little bit? Jean had been instinctively wary of Yelazar. Was that because the necromancer had, after all, reminded Jean of his sister? It seemed futile to worry about that now, after everything they'd been through and all the decisions they'd made.

Marissa was gazing up towards the ceiling. "It was this place that changed me. This place – and Artair."

Was that another kind of lie? Marissa had certainly been different when she returned from the Priory, but she'd also still been herself. Ruthless and driven, cold and sometimes cruel – that was the sister he remembered growing up beside.

But he couldn't deny that Marissa had been through a lot. To spend days in captivity in the depths of Orr... Having been aboard Death's Anthem, he could well imagine it.

"Did mother and father know what had happened to you?" he asked.

Marissa was silent a moment, then: "Yes."

The silence stretched before Jean dared ask, "Why did you never tell me?"

"Because you were too young to know, and by the time you weren't, it didn't seem to matter." Marissa picked at her gloves, where a seam was fraying. "Because I'd failed and it was humiliating. And because... You were just a child who always saw the best in the world. I didn't want to take that from you."

But she had, even if she didn't know it. Jean had watched the way his sister embraced ambition and determination. He'd seen that to thrive – even to survive – required shedding everything that could hurt you. Perhaps he'd chosen making light of the world instead of fighting it, but that was just another kind of armour. Even Vasha hadn't been able to break through.

"It doesn't matter now." Marissa put her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. "I would have outgrown the Priory eventually, whatever the circumstances."

Outgrown it – but not outrun it. She'd still wanted revenge, hadn't she? "What are you going to do about Artair?"

"Do? Nothing. He's no longer my concern."

"But kidnapping Yinn..."

"I thought I cared. I thought taking revenge on Artair would heal all the scars and banish all the shadows. I was wrong."

Had she ever admitted to being wrong before? Jean doubted it. "Do you think that's why he didn't appear?"

"So that I could find resolution and healing on my own?" Marissa gave a dry laugh. "I very much doubt it. Artair is a monster. He'll always do whatever causes the most pain – if it doesn't inconvenience him. Either he was otherwise engaged, or he's forgotten my very existence. I simply wasn't important enough."

Without thinking, Jean reached out, taking Marissa's gloved hand in his own. She looked at him, startled, then allowed him to pull her closer. "You're important to me, Marissa. You always will be."

Marissa didn't thank him; theirs had never been a relationship of loving gestures and soft words. Her fingers tightened on his, though, just for a moment. After everything they'd been through, Jean thought that was enough.