Vex glanced at his father, a small crease of worry making itself known between his brows. Derivan sat next to him, a comforting presence and a reminder that he wasn't alone in all this. He'd come so far in the last three or so years — he remembered how afraid he'd been of his father, not so long ago. He remembered how much it had scared him to leave.

Karix was responsible for a lot of that. His change of heart didn't change what he'd already done. That other version of his father, the one that Irvis had used against him and had ultimately sacrificed himself for him... that showed him who his father could be.

But this wasn't that version of him. This Karix hadn't made the same realization, hadn't walked the same path. He'd changed his mind and helped, and for that he deserved some credit, but Vex wasn't forgetting that his father had initially planned to betray him.

"It'd be so much easier if I could just forgive him," he muttered out loud. "Or if I could just hate him."

"And yet you would not be you if you found it quite so easy to hate," Derivan said. He placed a hand on Vex's chest, his touch gentle and his voice warm. "You have a good heart. It is one of many reasons I love you."

Vex felt his heart skip a beat, and he ducked his head slightly; even after all this time, he wasn't entirely used to these open displays of affection. His voice when he replied, though, was still uncertain. "Then shouldn't I find it easy to forgive him?"

"He has hurt you, deliberately and continuously," Derivan said. "That he has changed his heart now does not erase what he has already done. Your pain is real, and so is your right to feel it. If you choose not to forgive him, no one would blame you."

"I want to forgive him," Vex confessed. "I feel like I have to."

"You do not."

"I know that." Vex leaned into Derivan's touch, resting his head against the metal chestplate, and wondered how it was that the armor could feel so warm, though his body was nothing but metal. "I know that, intellectually. But..."

"You feel it is the right thing to do," Derivan said. He stroked a hand down the back of Vex's head, gently running metallic fingers through the frills and scales. "It is not. There is no right answer here. If you feel like you must... then perhaps you are not yet ready to forgive him. Not truly. And perhaps that, too, is alright."

Vex managed a small smile. His eyes were wet — when had that happened? — and he laughed a small, affectionate laugh. "When did you manage to get so wise?" he asked, only half-joking.

Derivan leaned down towards him, close enough that their faces were almost touching. His eyes curved in his own version of a gentle smile. "When you gave me a reason to learn," he hummed.

Vex couldn't help his smile, now. "You're a hopeless romantic," he accused playfully.

"And would you prefer otherwise?" Derivan arched an eye.

"Not at all."

For all his fears and worries about what would happen — with the world, with his father, with his home — he did now have one constant that would stand beside him.

For him, that meant everything.

It was another three hours before Karix woke.

That was a good thing. If another hour had passed, Vex would have started to really worry. Mana deprivation wasn't supposed to last this long, but nothing felt certain anymore. The system they'd all been relying on was starting to fall apart — Vex wouldn't have been surprised if the basic facts of life began to change, too.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

It felt strange to be asking Karix that question. It was the same question Karix would pose to him, years and years ago when he was first strapped into the chair to get his mana channels burned into him. There was one specific answer Karix had wanted to hear back then.

Stronger.

"Sore, but it'll pass," Karix grunted, rolling his shoulders and staring around the caravan. "Where am I?"

"In a caravan on the way to Anderstahl," Vex replied shortly.

"Did it work?" Karix tried to sit up, but evidently wasn't ready for it; he swayed once, then began to tip back down. Vex caught him before he could slam his head on the hardwood floor.

"Did the spell work? Yes. We got... almost everyone out of Elyra. The Speaker is missing. No one realized until yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Karix blinked. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost seventy-two hours. You broke the record for mana exhaustion." Vex didn't meet Karix's eyes for a moment. He'd been worried for his father, and that was still strange to him; for the most of his life he'd seen Karix as this invincible, indomitable figure. It was a big part of why it had been so difficult to go against him, and why he'd been afraid to come back.

It was strange, too, to think about how he was probably now more powerful than his father.

"Damn." Karix didn't react much to the announcement. He let his head thump back down onto the floor of the caravan, and stared up at the ceiling instead of meeting Vex's eyes. "I feel like shit."

"It's probably the lack of food," Vex said. "Want me to get you something?"

"Please."

It was with some relief that Vex stepped away, though in the limited space of the caravan that didn't mean much. He put a quick meal together — soft foods, mostly, bread and stew mixed in with a little bit of manavine for mana recovery — and took the time to gather himself.

He was fine. This was the first time in years that he was spending any significant amount of time with his father in any non-antagonistic context, where they might be expected to talk and make up. He could do this.

"I can do this," he muttered to himself. Derivan was nearby, watching him, and the armor gave him a small nod at his words; he was letting Vex handle all this by himself. Vex had asked him to.

He wasn't sure if he regretted that decision yet.

Vex made his way back, carefully balancing the bowl of stew in both hands and awkwardly carrying the plate of bread between his teeth. Karix gave him a look as he walked in — somewhere between exasperation and affection — and Vex felt a part of himself growing angry.

He wasn't ready for this, he was realizing.

Vex placed the bowl of soup on the ground next to his father, followed by the bread, and watched as Karix dug in ravenously — probably a little too fast to be healthy. He waited.

Karix was the first one to speak.

By this point in time, he'd managed to sit up without falling over again, and had found a chair he could sag into without looking completely undignified. "I guess we have a lot to talk about," he said.

"I guess we do." Vex didn't know if he agreed.

"With Elyra gone I can't burn in Riss's mana channels even if I want to." Karix let out a sigh. "And Helix talked to me. I do understand what I've done."

"I don't think you do," Vex said quietly. "I don't think you can know. You aren't any of us. You don't know what channel burning did to Helix, or to Lyssa, or to Varon or Xirra. None of them even had childhoods. I barely had a childhood, and you gave me the most freedom out of any of us."

Karix opened his mouth. Vex could almost practically see the words forming in his throat — the same words he'd heard a dozen times before. I made you stronger.

Because strength was what mattered here.

There was a tiny voice within him that told him that without his father doing that — without the mana reserves burned into him from childhood — he wouldn't have become the wizard he was. He wouldn't have been able to adventure with Derivan and Sev and Misa, wouldn't have been able to save them from all the dangers that he had.

But he didn't know that. He'd spoken to Derivan about this, and the armor had looked him in the eyes, and told him with all the sincerity in the world: he believed Vex would have found a way.

Maybe it was time he believed in himself, too.

To his credit, Karix swallowed the words before they emerged. He looked down and away for a moment, and when he spoke, it was with a slightly strangled voice. "I'm sorry," he said.

Vex sighed.

"You aren't forgiven," he said. It was oddly comforting to say the words. "Maybe I'll forgive you one day. I'm not taking that off the table. The world is ending, and it feels... petty? To care about this. But I'm also not ready to just let go of everything you've done. I want to be, but I'm not."

Karix watched Vex, silent. For a moment, Vex was afraid his father would lash out at him — that he would demand forgiveness for what he'd done. He didn't think Karix had ever handled rejection before. Not when he was a noble and nearly everyone would acquiesce to his whims. Not when his own children were afraid of him.

Then Karix closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Okay," he said simply.

"I'm sorry," Vex added reflexively. Karix opened an eye and raised an eyebrow at him, questioning, and Vex frowned at himself. "Or... I guess I'm not. This is complicated."

"I made things complicated." Karix shrugged. "There's a lot I want to say. But I'll wait until you're ready. That seems like the least I can do."

"I might never be ready." The words emerged before Vex could stop them, and for the first time, Vex saw his father visibly flinch. Karix didn't respond for a long moment, and Vex didn't open his mouth to take it back.

It was the truth. He didn't know if he would ever be ready. But he was confronting that now, instead of denying it, and that was... a start.

"Okay," Karix said again. This time, his words were softer, more tightly controlled; Vex saw the tension in his father's arms, in the lines of his throat as he forced down his reaction.

"Thank you." He meant it, too. The old Karix could have made this conversation a lot harder for him. "I'm not... I'm not going to ignore you completely or anything. We're still going to need to work together to fix all this."

"That I suspected," Karix murmured. He glanced out of one of the caravan's windows, looking at the immense throng of people nearby. Vex followed his gaze — the entire kingdom of Elyra was just outside. It was staggering to think about.

"Could you leave me alone for a bit, Vex?" Karix asked after a moment. "Just give me some time."

"Yeah, of course." Vex mumbled out the words, then darted out of the room, back to where Derivan was waiting for him. He collapsed into a chair, put up a silencing ward, and then let out a long, slow breath.

"You did right by yourself, Vex," Derivan said gently. Vex leaned into him as the armor sat down by his side.

"It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled.

"Would it have felt right if you had forgiven him?"

"...No, that wouldn't have felt right either. I think... I think it would have felt worse."

"Then you have your answer." Derivan squeezed his arm around Vex's shoulders, and the lizardkin allowed himself to nod a small nod.

"I do want to forgive him. It's just... hard."

"I know, Vex. You have a good heart." Derivan paused for a moment. "Perhaps we should go speak to Riss?"

"Oh!" Vex brightened. As much as he hadn't forgiven Karix, he hadn't wanted to leave his side until he recovered. Now that he had... "Yes. Let's go."

Derivan smiled, holding out his hand, and Vex took it with a small smile.

At least he had something to look forward to.

Elsewhere, worried voices whispered.

"Please tell me you have good news."

"Anderstahl's stability is at 70% and dropping."

"That's not good news."

"We think there's a possibility Seven left something behind to help. He's left divine signatures all over the place."

"Do any of them lead anywhere?"

There was a long silence.

"That's what I thought."

"...Not to interrupt, but have you guys just considered asking him for help?"