The quiet of the cave could not overcome Sagallius's voice. It hushed, whispered through the cracks and slid across the contours of Dhalvasha's face like the tips of Shai's fingers in their private encounters. Held on the wall, hanging and hesitant, Dhalvasha slid back down. When he was level with the god, the Symenestra took a breath and tried to clear his mind of the excitement his words brought. Everything he said, like the god held the door open to his mind and could glance along the depths with the ease Dhalvasha might survey a wound. Despite the tremors of unease arresting his body at the thought alone, there was some interest in that.
There was power here.
And the god offered what Dhalvasha did not believe he could achieve...what Viratas had never given him, what no one had ever hoped for.
A chance.
Still, the doctor was wary. Stronger minds than his had been led astray by false promises and whispered conspiracies. He would need to be careful. But the god spoke aright, why manipulate a single Symenestra against the head medic of the Purging? What did he hope to gain from such an encounter? Gods were not creatures so flippant with their powers as to appear for the sake of mere fun...were they?
Sagallius was a name the surgeon only partially remembered, some lesson in the darkness long, long ago. There was something about this one the doctor had found interesting at the time...but the details were gone now, lost in his recent emotional troubles.
"Very well," he said hesitantly, narrowed eyes points of crimson in the darkness, "You have my attention, Puppeteer. What would you require to give me what you offer?"
Frowning, he continued, running a tongue across his dry lips in a rare display of nerves. The mention of the Larkspur madwoman was enough to unsettle the Symenestra severely. She existed as a reminder of why magic was dangerous, of why it was important to always be in control.
Else one lose it forever.
"I doubt you offer power out of altruism alone, so name your price and, if I am capable, I will perform it."
Why else wouldn't he? Kalinor had become dark...a hopeless place where people came to die, where a culture accepted their fatal lot and embraced the monstrous reputation the Harvest conferred upon them. No one tried to change anymore, no one asked to. Viratas was fat on the stagnancy of the old.
Kalinor needed to change, else there be no Kalinor in the future.
"Do not question my dedication," the Symenestra warned, surprised he had the ambition to growl in the face of a god "If anything, I question your interest in the plights of my kind...what do you gain from helping me?"
It came as a shock to the doctor, here in the darkness, how he had such bravery.
He simply did not care...some part of him had given up hope and this, this was that hope's painful reanimation. The god had dared to give the surgeon the vision that his suffering, his losses, his mission were not in vain.
In short, if lying, the god had done far more harm than any blade or Overgiving could possibly achieve.
What was life...after all hope for improvement was gone?