“You can say it’s the last time, but it never is, you know? You just want it to be.” The Tinderkin scratched her wrists as she spoke to the small ring of attendants seated in the basement of the Temple of Oppo in Tamanthan West. “I just… I just…”
A smattering of encouragement broke out around the group as the middle-aged Gnome wiped away her tears and collected herself. Kaitha smiled and nodded.
“But I’m taking it one day at a time,” Sepra said. “One day at a time. And I’m glad I’ve made it this far, but… it’s just hard, you know?”
Kaitha did know. Everyone seated around the small, stone room did. They broke into light applause and encouraging smiles.
“Thank you, Sepra. Well done,” said Brother Mattias. The old priest of Oppo had kind eyes that sparkled from the recesses of his leathery brown wrinkles. His thin, white beard settled on the southern crags of his face like snow on the Ironbreaker Mountains.
As Sepra sat back down, Kaitha glanced around the circle to see who would speak next.
The temple was like the deity it was dedicated to: modest and inconspicuous. Most houses of the Humble God were just rented buildings with an olive laurel nailed above its door; Oppo’s Fourth Tier temple had once been a restaurant specializing in Imperial food, and the building still smelled faintly of turmeric and grundant. A few small oil lamps illuminated a ring of the old restaurant chairs set out in the middle of the room.
A ruddy-faced Dwarf with a black beard volunteered. “Eh, I’m Glod Boforson,” he said, standing.
“Hi, Glod Boforson!” said the attendees in unison.
“It’s been two years, eight months, and twelve days since my last hit of elixir,” Glod intoned.
Kaitha joined in light applause. That was part of the script; the mantra. Everybody said it differently, of course. One had to switch in his or her own name, and the details were important. Yet the script was essential. One’s name. How long since the last relapse. What used to be hard. What was still hard. Why it could be endured, and what made going on worthwhile. A reminder to take it one day at a time. An expression of gratitude, and then you were done. Every recital ended with a short burst of applause and rote affirmations.
“My name is Cherri Fullweather,” said a pale Halfling after Glod sat down.
“Hi, Cherri Fullweather!” came the chorus.
“It’s been three months and two days since I had elixir,” said Cherri, and now the applause was accompanied by approving murmurs. It was always hardest at the beginning.
After Cherri came Lann, a Human addicted to aetherbloom, though he had fallen into relapse that week. Different parts of the script came into play when he announced as much, tears streaming down his face. The priest offered encouragement. A new pledge was given, and a sponsor for the pledge identified. Tears were shed at a couple of moments, but in the end it seemed Lann was back on the right path.
Then it was Kaitha’s turn.
She took a deep breath as she stood. “My name is Kaitha te’Althuanasa Malaheasi Leelana Ter’ethe…” she began.
As she said her name, Kaitha took the time to think about what she would share. She had to stick to the script. She knew the script. She liked the script.
“…Liliea Musanatila Bae Iluvia Daela…”
The only trick was getting her life to fit into the script. She could say the words as she was supposed to, but they weren’t entirely honest. And everyone agreed that if you weren’t going to be honest, there was no point in showing up to these things. Yet if she was honest, things didn’t just veer off script—they took a hard right and plunged off a cliff. Sweat beaded on her brow just thinking of it.
“… Asanti Tilalala nil Tyrieth,” she finished.
The circle radiated uncertain silence.
“Hi… Kaitha,” said the old priest, and the others followed his prompt.
“It’s been a little over a year and a half since I had salve,” said Kaitha. “I don’t know the exact number of days because I… I wasn’t really trying to stop, you know? I just kind of had to.”
“It’s important to make a decision,” offered Cherri Fullweather. The others in the circle murmured in agreement.
“Yes, well, I made a decision not to go through withdrawal again.” Kaitha paused and took a deep breath. Things were already starting to go wobbly. “I’m still adventuring, which is risky without salve, but they make these new emergency surgical sprites that deploy on impact. They’re supposed to be less addictive than salve.”
“Ye had to use ’em yet?” asked Glod Boforson.
“No cause yet.”
“Ah. Well, they’re definitely less addictive,” Glod remarked.
Kaitha nodded. “Good. I can’t… the addiction and withdrawal were horrible. And it wasn’t just what it did to me. I was in a sort of… well, it wasn’t a relationship. It’s complicated, but it was something. Whatever it was, I hurt him. I mean really hurt him.”
“Many of us hurt the ones we care about in the throes of addiction,” said the priest.
“Yeah,” said Kaitha. “But I put four arrows in his throat and eye.”
The members of the circle on either side of the ranger scooted their chairs, slowly and carefully, away from her.
Kaitha shook her head. “And then he left, obviously.”
“Under his own power?” Cherri sounded confused.
“And whatever we had, or almost had, I… I realized that was what I always wanted. But it’s gone. It’s gone, and I can’t bring it back. And I try to distract myself with work, like another quest can take my mind off things, but I’ve killed a liche and saved the city. I’ve slain the toughest monsters on the guild boards. I’ve earned all the highest honors a hero can get. There’s nothing left to strive for.”
Kaitha’s voice quavered as she tried to recover. The script lay in burning shambles around her, but she had to plunge ahead. “I get quests and endorsements, but they don’t give me anything I didn’t have before, way back when I started drinking and taking salve. I made it to the top. Twice. And there’s nothing here but myself and… and an emptiness. A nothing that’s bigger than anything I ever had.”
She was talking faster now, as though her words could outrun the tears welling up from her depths. “And it’s not even a craving for salve, though gods know I want a hit. It’s nothing I can get. I just felt this void even back when I was taking kicks all the time, and I wanted… something. Something I never had, and I couldn’t name back then. But now I can name it. It’s him. Everything was better when he was there, and then I…” Her voice broke at the memory. “I drove him away. But now I don’t think there’s anything that can fill the hollow, and I just want to forget everything. I don’t want to remember.”
The silence of the circle was interrupted by Cherri violently blowing her nose into a handkerchief.
