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The Lady had been there at the beginning - or at the least, as far back as he could recall. Sometimes silent, sometimes outspoken, she had borne witness to all his prophecies, and each prophecy he had seen through to completion.
Now that his prophecies were no more, having brought forth the fruits for which he had labored to lay upon the altar of her offering, it came as no surprise to him that she would likewise be present at the end.
As it had been so often, when he looked up from where he knelt in prayer, it was elsewhere that she met him. Not quite the realm of the gods, with which he was also acquainted, but a space that was not space which the gods had granted her for such an audience. Here there was no physical form, no failing body to distract - though when he glanced down, he saw the light of non-existent fires glinting off the shape of metal hands, just the same as they caused her golden adornments to gleam.
For a wonder, the smile she offered him was not mischievous nor coy, but simple and earnest, unmoving for the words she shared within their hearts. How well you have fulfilled your purpose, my dear friend.
"My purpose..." Rather, her purpose, the gods' purpose, his father's purpose... had he had any other purpose but to fulfill the purpose of others?
She heard the bitterness he swallowed, as she always had. It is as I have told you before - all was ordained, true, but only because the gods know your soul, and that it is steadfast. Were it not, had you chosen differently, there would have been another, just as there is now another.
"Indeed," he agreed, subdued. "Though the path was not of my own choosing, I cannot say I did not willingly choose to walk it."
Such thoughts, as had happened all too often in the days since the final escape from Leá Monde, brought to mind another soul now lost. Another who had been given his choice, and made it, and had given all to fulfill that which he had vowed. Though in this place he had no eyes to cry, Sydney imagined he could feel tears rising once again at the corners.
Though she surely knew where his thoughts had turned, it was a different question that she asked. Have you regrets?
Sydney shook his head, set his jaw. "I do not."
The skeptical look with which she regarded him made it clear what she thought of that answer. "...If I were to begin it all once more, to start anew," he amended, "I would change nothing."
There is a difference, is there not? For a moment, there was a hint of the usual smirk in her smile, but her expression then softened. Perhaps it would ease your heart to know that when I greeted another old friend, he answered the same.
That did not come as a surprise, precisely, but the reassurance was enough to give him pause. The inquisitor had relayed as much, before she had departed with the boy in tow - and as both she and Sydney were heartseers, she could not have lied, nor been lied to. Not by such an earnest man as John Hardin.
He could not help but ask. "You once said... the gods required something of me, regarding him."
That too has been fulfilled. Likewise his purpose regarding you.
The last had never been in doubt, and Sydney wondered why she would reaffirm it now.
Because you never truly understood - neither his role in your story, nor yours in his, she stated. Nonetheless, you have both done what the gods desired of you.
...For an instant, Sydney felt that he did understand. It was not what he had wished, not what either of them had wanted at the beginning - the gods knew they'd both fought against it, tried to run from it - but...
Her smile grew broader, perhaps reinforcing the truth in his epiphany. He understands. And he awaits you.
The thought made him smile as well, with a wistfulness he seldom let himself show in the mortal realm. "Does he, now."
She nodded, the ornaments at her waist tinkling as she stepped closer to where he knelt, in the midst of unseen flame. Yet where he waits, time does not pass as you know it. He will not grow impatient, and thus you need not rush. As before, the choice is yours.
Sydney nodded slightly, bowing his head. "And as before, the gods know I have already chosen, my Lady. This is not where I would turn aside."
The phantom hand, adorned with golden rings and draped with silks, touched where his cheek would have been; lips painted deep crimson seemed to press lightly against his brow. Even so, I thought to offer. You are free. You always have been - of all but the snares you set for yourself, little rabbit.
But she knew as the gods knew - there was nothing left to entice him. There was nothing at all for him now...
...Nothing but the darkness, the smell of grass and leaves, the sudden awareness of solid ground beneath him as he stirred. That restless motion prompted another movement nearby; the Riskbreaker crouched beside a tree a short distance away, having turned his attention from the city gates in the distance to Sydney, kneeling in the underbrush to offer his prayers. "...Ready to go?" Riot asked.
Sydney nodded, the smile still on his lips, her reassurance still tingling on his brow. Quite.