The Point of No Return (short story)
Title: The Point of No Return
Author: Yukito
Yukito had once asked Raelee her scholarly opinion on Grishom's point of no return. At what moment he had done something so irredeemable in his search for power that it had been a step too far? Had it been one careless sacrifice of life, or one hundred? When does a person become a monster? Would he himself be a monster if people got hurt in the pursuit of information, even if it was accidental? Did it become easier after your first slip? Could a person ever be careful enough? He almost wished he could ask Stone for himself, but he doubted he'd get an answer that he'd like if the opportunity arose.
He had been all over that island. Rowing until his arms were sore, trekking through the jungle, and generally peeking everywhere he could had amounted to nothing that he could readily sum up. He had some solid conclusions, but no idea of the truth of them. At least he knew more about the place, and points of interest to keep an eye on, even beyond the island's shores.
Would any of it matter? Maybe not.
During the occupation of his home, the townspeople had been plucked from their homes and off the streets so that their flesh and bone could be braided for the pleasure of the Painlord. They had been forced to put those people out of their screaming misery, not a man, woman, or child spared from those daily nightmares. If they had been offered the choice to get those people to safety, he'd have pounded on every door to try to convince them to leave.
The stakes here seemed a little higher; it was a little more difficult to rescue a person if they were taken to who knows where, than to bury a dead body. He could block it all out and escape with the twist of a piece of jewelry if he wanted. It wasn't surprising that he was distancing himself from it emotionally. Maybe most of the isle inhabitants felt that way as well. If that were the case though, it had done Ilsola no good. No... none of them had one. None at all. If he thought about it, all the residents seemed perfectly content to not have the jewelry he and his friends took for granted. Pride in a community they had lived in all their lives, perhaps? Was the pretty stone around his neck too expensive for most people to afford? Did that mean that their fate was tied with the island? So many questions.
His path of clues had been whimsical. He'd watched a rose be carried away on the wind, and it had brought his attention to the fact that the island was covered in them. Then he'd examined every nook and cranny that he could find that had them, chasing the breeze as it touched his skin. It had led him to a cottage covered in mist. He'd peeked inside, gleaning its secrets. And then given up, save to realize that mist had no real place on the island.
So he had gone flower picking to make a friend a bracelet, and the wind carried him the scent of roses again. This time, he'd discovered the baths and had a name. Paying the bored attendant, he looked at the bottles on the shelves, almost matching the ones inside the little cottage. Excited again, he followed the path of other flowers, and found a room full of mannequins and another bath house.
Yukito had wanted to know more, so he'd left the island and traveled to Illistim. It had taken some doing, but he'd gotten someone local to buy him some lovely blackberry tea there. As he sipped his treat, he'd taken another bath to wash away the travel dust before exploring. A lone mannequin caught his eye, covered in Erithi finery, surrounded by lovely artwork. Curious, but unable to figure out what it all meant, he went to one of the local inns to rest.
Before laying his head down for the night, he'd wandered the halls, drawn to an art display in the lobby that was yet to be unveiled. He'd seen so much art in his explorations, that this was intriguing. One piece was viewable by the public. A large image of Illistim in the far off distance, and construction in the foreground, with trees being cleared.
Brow furrowing, Yukito had shaken his head. Then he'd grimaced. His footsteps had been a dance of whimsy, but if his footing had not been misplaced, this wasn't good. He'd heard lots of banging and construction to the west of the isle when he was on the water, but he couldn't get close enough to see what was happening.
The main question he was asking himself was, what would he do with the information? With Ilsola missing, this could be bad. He regretted bringing up the question of the will. If he was at all right, that thing might need to be buried someplace until this was resolved. Sometimes fiddling with the puzzle was more fun than finding an answer.
Rather than linger any longer over the issue, he'd turned around and gone to sleep for the night.
"The Point of No Return" - Andrew Lloyd Webber