Role

Chapter 9

Sazven stared at the painting in her clawed hands.

She'd been given gifts once or twice before, but they'd always been
transactional. This was different somehow.

The painting was useless. It didn't have any magical properties. It would
not let her spread Weh more. Would not let her kill mighty Fang, that
elusive and most formidable of her foes. It would not let her do anything.
She should just burn it, make the image of her crisp and drift away in the
wind.

All of her friends had left. Odren just looked sad when she saw him now,
like she'd let him down without even knowing the rules. Stupid Riazle had
gone and died or something without even saying goodbye or letting her be
there to take his Weh. Beaulah was hiding from her, probably because of the
Accident in Yzekon's domain. That one had been an actual mistake, and not
even her's!

She'd expected Kytria to leave too. Then she'd be on her own again, like it
was meant to be. Things would be simple like before. Just her, and the Weh,
and the victims, and the Accidents. She didn't need friends. She'd never
needed friends.

But.

She stared at the painting, and felt strange.

Kytria didn't judge her. Didn't look at her with those stupid disappointed
eyes. Didn't tell her what she was doing was wrong.

And as she stood there she realised with the clinical certainty of an
unrepentant killer: she didn't want her last friend to die.

How strange was that? She couldn't remember the last time she'd decided
someone dying would make her sad. Them dying brought the Weh, and the Weh
made her happy.

Was she going soft?

She didn't think so. She felt stronger than she'd ever been when not
filled with the Weh.

Was she being stupid?

She was never stupid. That couldn't be it.

Maybe... it was okay to have a friend she didn't need?

Maybe?

She kept the painting.