The other side of Reincarnation

　We stayed in Roshan a while longer after the Selwyn lead, not chasing anything in particular — just letting the city teach us its rhythms, letting Eris and Ace settle further into a life that still felt, some mornings, too good to entirely trust.

　It was an ordinary evening, the three of us back at the inn after a modest Iron-rank job, when I finally asked the question that had been sitting with me since the day I’d given Eris her name.

”I need to understand something,” I said, once Eris had gone to wash up and it was just Anti-Subconsciousness and me, in the quiet way our conversations usually happened — half in my own head, half muttered aloud when nobody else was around to think I’d lost my mind talking to myself. ”Why anti-mana. For Eris, I mean. Why not just... regular mana, however powerful. Why did naming her break something that specific?”

　There was a pause — the kind Anti-Subconsciousness only gave when it was organizing a genuinely complicated answer rather than simply retrieving one.

it said finally.

”Full,” I said. ”I think I’ve earned the full version, at this point.”

it began.

”Okay. That much I’d sort of guessed.”

Alright. Simple enough, so far.

”So where does Eris fit into that?”

Anti-Subconsciousness said.

Wait.

”Wait,” I said, out loud this time. ”Are you telling me she was already fully mastered? Before any of this? Before I ever even met her?”

”So what happened,” I said, slower now, feeling the shape of something significant assembling itself in front of me. ”If there was no room left in the mana structure—”

it said.

　I sat with that a long moment, turning it over.

She was already extraordinary.

Before I ever found her.

Before any of this.

I didn’t create what she is. I just — pushed something that was already close to its edge, right over it.

”What did you say?” I asked again, mostly just to hear it once more, still not entirely sure I’d processed it the first time.

”It was clear,” I admitted. ”I just — needed a second to actually believe it.”

”What about Ace, then,” I said, once I’d gathered myself. ”Same thing? Different thing entirely?”

Anti-Subconsciousness said.

”...What’s an Aetherion?”

”And Ace just... managed that. From one name.”

　”He made it look so easy,” I said, half to myself, thinking of Ace curled by the fire that same night, entirely unbothered by having just accomplished something four generations of his own species had only barely managed before him.

Anti-Subconsciousness said.

Right. Because I’m the anomaly.

Because whatever I actually am, it doesn’t play by anyone else’s rulebook, and apparently that rewrites the rulebook for anyone I hand a name to as well.

”Oh, right,” I said, something clicking into place. ”I almost forgot to ask. What did you say my own mana’s actually called again? You mentioned it, once, a long time back, and I don’t think I ever asked properly.”

　There was the smallest pause — deliberate, I thought, though I couldn’t have said why it felt that way.

Anathema.

”That’s a heavy word to hang on something,” I said, quiet.

Anti-Subconsciousness said.

　Eris returned partway through that last exchange, catching the tail end of my expression — thoughtful, a little unsettled, turning over more than I’d expected to learn in a single evening.

”You’ve got that face again,” she said, settling in across from me. ”The one where you’re thinking about something you’re not sure you want to be thinking about.”

”Just processing,” I said. ”Turns out you were always extraordinary. I just happened to be the one who tipped you over the edge into proving it.”

　She blinked at that, clearly not expecting it, something complicated crossing her face — pride, maybe, tangled up with the same disbelief I’d been carrying all evening.

”And the true dragons,” she asked, gently, having picked up enough of my history by then to know exactly what territory that phrase touched. ”Any closer to understanding them, in all this?”

　Something in my chest went cold and tight at the question — not at her asking it, never that, just at the shape of what it dragged back up.

　My mother’s face, the last clear look of it I still had.

　The explosion in a dream I’d never fully trusted as complete.

　My father, gone in a way I’d never actually witnessed and never would.

Not yet. Not for a long while yet, probably.

That’s a door I’m not ready to open, not even with a name and a place already in hand for the Church.

　Eris seemed to read all of that directly off my face, because she reached over, quiet, and put a hand on my arm — no words, nothing that needed saying, just the simple, steadying fact of her presence until whatever had risen in me settled back down to something manageable.

”One thing at a time,” she said, eventually, echoing something I’d told her myself, weeks back on the road to Roshan.

”One thing at a time,” I agreed, and let the warmth of her hand pull me back from wherever the thought had almost dragged me.

Dragons, later.

Selwyn, later still.

Tonight, I’ve got a name for my own power, an impossible evolution in two people I actually care about, and someone steady enough to notice when I need pulling back from the edge of my own grief.

That’s not nothing.

That’s actually quite a lot, when I stop to count it properly.