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dyvimwhitehart · 11 months

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They were never going to let him go with her. They were never going to let anyone go with her. The prophecy says it’s her, and her alone.

or,

The Wizard and Dyvim Whitehart are forced to part ways at the end of the Kondha Desert, right before entering The Hive.

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She should have seen this coming.

Still, the whirring and clanking of the Solar Arc— now at full power— initially makes her think she’s misheard. Emperor Yoshihito (or rather, his golden apparition) keeps a level face despite the slight snark in his tone.

“The Hive is not the place for your friend, Dyvim Whitehart. His courage is without measure, but this is a task for Wizards, yes?”

There’s a pause that implies he wants some kind of verbal confirmation from her. Amber’s brows furrow, grip on her wand tightening. Her jaw sets as she forces herself to hold her tongue. The Emperor continues giving what are undoubtedly important instructions, but this has evoked a rare moment of distraction in her.

When he says Dyvim’s name in that tone of voice, what is he insinuating?

On paper, Yoshihito’s words are kind. Nothing he’s said is necessarily untrue. But the Council has always showed up at the most inopportune times, their visits jarring enough that Amber almost wishes they’d just let her take matters fully into her own hands. There’s very little they’ve aided in from so far away that she wouldn’t have been able to figure out on the ground. And from that lofty vantage point, safe and comfortable in Ambrose’s well-lit Wizard City tower, they doubt Dyvim’s ability?

Where were they when Fort Rachias had to be stormed? Where were they when the meat-eaters of the Kondha Desert bared their teeth? Where were they when she crash-landed through the broken spiral door of an unknown world dubbed the heart of darkness, forced to fend for herself?

A Council of some of the greatest forces, both magical and political, in the Spiral claimed they could do near-nothing for her in Khrysalis, only for their slack to be picked up by a single, war-torn knight?

She remembers rushing into the Last Wood to escape Queen Sabina’s guards and being met with Diego. He’d seen it all, what they thought was Dyvim’s death included… and all he’d had to say was I know the path is hard.

She could’ve told him that.

Covered in pollen and mud, laying on the singed forest floor, speedrunning yet another loss, another failure— she could’ve told him that!

It brings the anger she’s been trying to keep in check bubbling to the surface. But that anger feels selfish and misplaced at a time like this. Morganthe is a mere portal away and she’s seething over her mentors.

Amber’s mind wanders to Dyvim standing somewhere outside the door, waiting to see her again.

She should have seen this coming. They were never going to let him go with her. They were never going to let anyone go with her. The prophecy says it’s her, and her alone.

It seems letting her guard down has made her foolish enough to forget that.

“Wizard? Do you hear me?”

Amber’s attention snaps back to the Emperor. He can tell she hasn’t been listening and repeats himself. A grand portal has appeared beside him. As usual, it’s all happening too fast and she’s required to roll with it.

“Use this portal to take you to the Atramental Gate. Diego is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m just going to step outside and say goodbye to Dyvim. He’ll want to know I’m closing in on Morganthe. And that he won’t be able to travel there with me,”

Yoshihito exhales heavily. “I’m afraid I must send you on your way now. We cannot afford to waste time,”

“Waste time?” she parrots. “It wouldn’t be a waste. He’s come all this way with me when no one else would. If I can’t take him to The Hive with me, the least I can do is tell him that to his face. He won’t leave the desert without confirmation that I’ve succeeded here,”

Titans forbid she die in The Hive, in the Shadow Queen’s webby grip. His well-wishes would not carry her far enough over the threshold of death to put her at rest. She’d be cursed to wander the pits of the Arachna sanctum; a lost spirit begging to remedy some unfinished business.

She hadn’t taken their exchange outside seriously enough. She’d fallen into the trap of comfort his presence provided her with and assured herself she’d see him again beyond the trials of the Solar Arc.

“This is a time-sensitive quest. The Council can only appear here for so long, especially when so close to the Shadow. If you do not go now, Diego will be unable to aid you,”

I could do it without him, she wants to say. But if she snaps, the Spiral snaps with her.

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

With what feels like blocks of lead weighing down her boots, Amber takes a step past the Emperor and toward the Atramental Gate portal. It thrums with a power familiar to her. It’s just another point of no return.

Learned discipline keeps her from turning her head back toward the desert. She is dutiful and precise, yes, but also a natural isolato. The combined power of Necromancy and Shadowmancy now under her belt further banishes her to a life of lonely roads and occasional allies. Her head and heart wage a separate war within her, the latter’s army begging her not to regret letting Dyvim in. Or leaving him behind.

“Wizard,” the Emperor says. “I will ensure Dyvim Whitehart returns to Bastion, to continue his good work there.”

She nods.

She knows better, now, than to momentarily believe the Council would grant her a moment of grace. The thought doesn’t even cross her mind.

Perhaps it’s for the better. Now, she can focus on her mission without any distractions. Dyvim brings out the big-heart in her, the thing she’s been forced to bury deep in order to shoulder so much of the Spiral’s suffering. When she does good deeds, it’s almost mechanical. When she receives praise, it’s like playing music for a headstone. But when he makes her laugh, she forgets she’s part of some grand plan beyond being by his side.

“Be safe,”

Do they care if she lives or dies beyond what doom it would spell for the Spiral? Who would miss the Azure Shining One of Song, and who would miss Amber?

She steps through the portal before she has the chance to become more person than prophecy.

She makes a mental note to survive not just for the sake of the Spiral, but for the sake of seeing him again.

----

He’s under the impression that it’ll take hours to finish what needs to be done within the Solar Arc. The sheer power of the place is enough to nearly knock him off his feet, but Dyvim stands strong at his post by the rock outcropping beyond the Barbarian camp.

There isn’t a doubt in his mind that she’ll be able to find her way back to him whenever she’s completed her… training, or whatever it is she’s doing. He’ll wait for an hour or so longer and then trek back across the deep desert to the Hopper camp before dusk falls. Hopefully, the good deeds they’ve done for Queen Jade-Eye are enough to starve off her subjects. If not, he won’t hesitate to raise his sword against them.

It’s strange being here. The Kondha Desert is the stuff of legend to someone who hails from across the Starfall Sea. It’s a harsh, tormented place— the beige opposite of his beloved Last Wood. Still, he reminds himself there was once a time where trees sprouted in this place and Hoppers didn’t have to ration their water. In comparison to this place, the Last Wood is lucky. It’s the Last Wood for a reason.

He remembers hearing murmurs among other Burrowers after waking up from his poison-induced nap about saplings being planted in the Burn, hoping to regrow the Last Wood. The noble Spellbinder is much too humble to brag about such a thing. It warms his heart regardless and leaves him wondering if they could bring green back to the desert too, in the aftermath of all this.

Dyvim lifts a foot, marveling at the sandy print left beneath it. Who would’ve guessed he’d make it this far?

Him, a simple Burrower Knight, on the fast-track to taking down the Shadow Queen. To avenging his ancestors, his people. The ones who never lived during a period of hope such as this.

A low hum begins to reverberate through the area. Dyvim immediately turns to the Solar Arc, suspecting some sort of shift. What he’s met with instead is a spirit of sorts, yellow-gold in color and looking nothing like any native of Khrysalis he’s ever seen, he immediately reaches for his weapon.

“Stay back!” he orders. To his dismay, confusion saturates his voice. He levels himself out before continuing. “State your business here,”

Perhaps it’s a mirage. Perhaps this valley really is cursed, and the entities are here to drive him back. Or maybe he’s gotten too close to the Arc and this is one of its guardians. Or, he’s severely dehydrated.

Then, the mirage speaks to him.

“Dyvim Whitehart,”

His voice is low and collected. Dyvim’s ears twitch, gaze focused on the apparition no matter how deeply he wants to look back toward the Arc’s entrance.

“How do you know my name, spirit?”

“I am no spirit. I am a projection from elsewhere in the Spiral, a member of the Council of Light sent to aid the Wizard.”

Dyvim sheathes his weapon, but keeps his hand on the hilt just in case.

The Spellbinder has mentioned the Council to him a few times, albeit always briefly. He’s always gotten the impression that she felt slightly abandoned by them. Looking over this figure now, he realizes there is a bitter taste in his mouth as well on her behalf.

“Forgive my forcefulness, then. What brings you here now? How may I be of help?” There’s a brief spark of worry in him, and his eyes widen. “Your champion is currently within the Solar Arc. Is everything alright?”

The councilmember stays just as serene. It’s difficult to make him out against the dust of the desert, but at the very least, his expression stays the same.

“The Wizard has completed the trials of the Solar Arc and opened a portal to the Atramental Gate outside of The Hive’s entrance. I was inside assisting her and am here to tell you she is well.”

“Really? What wonderful news! I didn’t doubt her for a second,” He removes his hand from his sword. “The Atramental Gate is back toward the entrance of the desert. Could you let her know that I’ll meet her there by morning? With the help of the Hoppers, I’ll be able to cross faster,”

“This is not all I have to tell you. While I speak for the entire Council of Light when I say we are grateful for your bravery and loyalty to the Wizard, we cannot allow you to follow her further.”

A gust of wind blows, but Dyvim stands his ground. “I don’t understand. The last place she should be on her lonesome is the heart of darkness!”

The Solar Arc he understood. He is no student of magic, nor would he benefit from the teachings within. But The Hive? The Shadow Palace? Both places of dark magic, yes, but legendary battles as well? If he could storm Fort Rachias, he could do this as well.

“This is for your safety as well as hers, Dyvim Whiteheart—”

“Nonsense! You have no tie to me. This is about your prophecy, isn’t it? The one that said she had to come to this world alone? The one that says she alone will dispel the Shadow Queen?”

“Well, if you would allow me to finish. Yes. We cannot risk jeopardizing what was sung by the Lords of Night. You have been an invaluable ally to the Wizard, but from this point on, you would only distract her from her mission.”

His ears flatten somewhat, an exasperated sound escaping him. “What? That’s—”

“This is not a matter of debate. She has already left us, you see. Another Council member was waiting for her at the doors of The Hive. The best course of action going forward is to return to Bastion and continue the fight there. We are on the heels of the Shadow, after all.”

“It doesn’t have to be me! Please, just… just send someone with her. A Council member, even. Anyone,”

It’s not that he doesn’t believe she can take Morganthe down on her own. She could move entire worlds with the flick of her wrist, rewrite galaxies with the bat of an eye. It’s that she shouldn’t have to do so by herself. Not when there are so many others who could help her shoulder the weight. He knows his words are falling on deaf ears, but he can’t help it. Never one to beg for anything, Dyvim pleads.

He cannot go home knowing that he may never see her again.

But he must go home and serve his people.

“I am running out of time,” the councilmember says. “Allow me to grant you an easy return to Bastion for your heroics.” A beat. “It’s what she wanted you to do.”

Dyvim swallows down a dry breath before straightening up. “Have you a portal for me as well?”

The apparition begins to flicker and distort. Still, the councilmember within it nods, gesturing to a small whirlpool of magic beside him. Dyvim spares the Solar Arc— and the larger Kondha Desert— one last look before stepping inside.

In the blink of an eye, he ends up in what he knows is Sardonyx. The unmistakable sound of mantis chitter sounds off around him as the Fifth Column members keep up their valiant efforts. Just as he suspected, when he turns, he’s beside the portal that has been set up between the city and Silent Market. The Council of Light must’ve used up the majority of their power arguing with him, not that he gave them much of a choice.

He wastes no time heading back across the sea. The second portal spits him out in a body of water within Silent Market. Immediately, he catches the attention of Burrower merchants and Fifth Column members alike. It’s then that the exhaustion sinks in.

Dyvim waves away the curious eyes and ears, giving them short responses as he treks through to Bastion. He doesn’t know exactly who he’s looking for as he does so.

Or rather, he does— but she’s in The Hive. And he’s here. And she’s there. And he takes no reconciliation in his safety.

Eventually, Zaltanna finds him. He’s wandering around the base of the Broken Tower, trying to decide how to enter the throne room and break the news to King Mourningsword.

“Mouse!” her familiar voice rings out. He lifts his head and sees her jogging up the stone steps. “What are you doing back here!? Where’s the Spellbinder?”

“She’s still across the sea. They’ve sent her to The Hive,” his voice is still hoarse and stopped-up from the sand.

Or that’s what he’s choosing to believe.

Zaltanna chitters to herself, keeping her composure as she holds her scythe close. He’s come to recognize that as a sign that she’s deep in thought.

“Who’s they?”

“The almighty Council of Light. Now that she’s encroaching on the Shadow Queen, she must quest alone. Devoid of distractions,”

“That’s what they told you?” she cocks her head to the side.

“Yes, that’s what they told me.” There’s a moment of silence between them. They listen to the running water, both their minds occupied with what the inside of The Hive must look like. Dyvim breaks the silence with a sigh. “This could be the end, Zaltanna.”

Of the war.

Of the Spellbinder.

“She’ll succeed. She has to,” Zaltanna throws her scythe over her shoulder. “I’ve never met someone so gratingly stubborn,” She looks him up and down. “Well, aside from you. It’s no wonder you make a good team,”

He can recognize a bone thrown in his direction when he sees it. Dyvim offers her a small, strained smile.

“Perhaps,”

“I’ve never seen you directionless, Mouse. It’s disorienting to me. I’d like you to stop. Where is it that you need to go?”

He nods in the direction of the throne room. “I must inform the King. That way he can pass the news on to Queen Sabina and the Last Wood. I want all hands on deck,”

Zaltanna takes the first step forward. “I’ll accompany you there.”

“That’s kind of you, Zaltanna,”

She only hums in response. He’ll defrost her fully another day.

Dyvim straightens up as they ascend the steps to the throne room. It hadn’t taken a lot of effort to convince King Pyat to let him across the sea, but there’s still a degree of shame in returning like this. Each guard is surprised to see him, a domino of wide eyes that lead to the shocked face of his ruler.

“Dyvim?” he says, sitting up further on his throne. “Tell me, what news comes from the Kondha Desert? Where is the Spellbinder?”

He doesn’t have to glance at Zaltanna to know she’s watching him out of the corner of her eye. He takes a deep breath, mustering the strongest voice he can as he looks upon his king.

“I am here to report, your majesty, that the Wiz— Amber. That Amber is currently within The Hive and closing in on the Shadow Queen. Our war is about to be won.”

He has to believe that.

He has to make it sound believable.

#wizard101 #wizard101 fic #dyvim whitehart #wizzy fandom #wizard101 fanfiction #you ever get spurned so hard by some old cow you write a whole fic. well

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