Then Lindon took the blow meant for him.
Dross could see every one of Lindon’s thoughts. He had to push to access memories, but surface thoughts were harder to ignore than to witness. So he heard it, clear as a song, when Lindon resolved to die before Dross.
And Dross heard what Lindon meant by “Dross.”
In the weeks since Dross had come back to awareness, he had tried several new personalities. Lindon had looked at the problem like a Soulsmith, trying to find a solution. To fix him.
The reality was, Dross knew how to return to his old self. He had known…perhaps not the entire time. There was a while after waking when he had been very confused.
He knew, though. He knew how to return.
But the old personality had failed. He had failed Lindon by breaking.
Dross was looking for a new Dross, a better Dross. One that wouldn’t flinch in the face of death and could endure the threats they faced. He liked his current personality, which helped him to enjoy those moments of danger.
Even though, every time Lindon said Dross’ name, he was asking for the old Dross. The original. The one he’d been before.
Which made Dross wonder: if my personality changes, will he throw me away?
That was an unworthy thought, and one he was embarrassed to have. Lindon had proven himself many times, and Dross could search through the man’s memories at leisure. But now, he admitted to himself that the main reason he had stayed in his current configuration was to see what Lindon would do.
Would Lindon try to forcibly recreate the old Dross? Would he get used to the new one? If Dross’ personality changed, would Lindon grow hate him?
Now, he heard what Lindon meant when he challenged the Silent King. He knew who Lindon swore to protect with his life.
This time, when Lindon said Dross, he meant Dross. In all his mutations and transformations. Dross, his companion. His mind-spirit.
His friend.
And Dross found that he didn’t need his new personality anymore.
He shook the darkness off his form, and the skin of his projected form became brighter to match his old outlook. He searched his memories, shifted his perspective…
His shame doubled.
Some of the things he’d said were so embarrassing. And had he really held a new form just to test Lindon? He had issues.
All that realization occurred almost instantly, and Lindon was still in trouble. Dross had to do something.
Fortunately, Dross was positively bursting with stolen power. Not enough to hold back a Dreadgod forever.
But enough to make a change.
Lindon was drowning in alien thoughts, clinging to his determination like a rock in the middle of raging rapids.
Then he heard an old, familiar voice.
[Lindon! Wow, you really are hanging in there, huh? Blink twice if you’re still sane!]
Lindon’s resolve shook.
[Sorry! Sorry. Don’t let me distract you with my self-revelation. But since you’re blocking the Silent King’s will, I’m going to slow this space. It’s too fast, and that’s going to boil your brain. I mean, uh…yeah, “boil your brain” is accurate.]
Lindon couldn’t spare much concentration; even listening to Dross was loosening his grip and weakening his focus.
But he was sure that sounded like a bad idea. Slowing down the dream meant his body would be vulnerable.
[That is what I mean, yes,] Dross conceded. [But it also means we can get help. And I’m pretty sure help is on the way.]
“No help can come for you,” the Silent King said casually. “You’ve done well to hold on so far. Give it another year or two and we’ll really see what you’re made of.”
The Dreadgod’s voice was strong again, and Lindon didn’t have the awareness to wonder whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
But he felt the white space shake when Dross struck. It was like a purple earthquake.
The Dreadgod’s voice shivered with it, and came back mid-sentence. “…worthwhile. Who can help you here?”
Dross struck again, and it was like Lindon was trapped inside a drum.
The Dreadgod’s pressure let up, and Lindon had enough time to realize how much stolen power was running through his spirit. If he didn’t vent some of it, his Paths were going to get corrupted.
So Lindon struck out with dream madra, Dross shaped it, and Lindon added to it the weight of his authority.
“Even if you escape, what will it—”
“Begone,” Lindon commanded.
The Void Icon wiped out the dream, and Lindon came to realize he was on the ground with his right arm stretched out toward the Dreadgod in the distance.