It was the Grey Pilgrim that would bear that mantle and I wasn’t really sure what the old man wanted. He should have killed Black, I thought. It would have made more sense to do that if peace was what he was after. I would have been utterly furious, true enough, but if they’d killed him while he was in the middle of burning Procer I would have had to swallow my anger. Instead he’d given me reason to… To twist arms so that I could get him back, I thought, and my blood cooled. I’d heard rumours about Black being dead or captured even in hamlets, it was a given that the moment I came to Iserre I’d hear about it.

So when I’d first encountered the Pilgrim and the Saint, I’d baited her and tricked him to go after something he’d known for certain I would want. And I’d won a victory. Oh, it hadn’t been given to me, but narratively speaking I’d received a written invitation to take it. And I won from it the body without the soul, the part that actually makes Black dangerous to them. It’d been bait, and I’d taken it. A victory, I thought once more. Could it actually be that simple? I wasn’t Named, not anymore, but I was the high priestess of Night and the weight of the roles I still played might be enough. And there had been growing similarities, hadn’t there? I’d slipped into them without even noticing. I now bore a staff and no sword, I called on miracles to aid and protect rather than attack. I had godlings whispering in my ears, companions at my side. I was eldest in influence among the priesthood and Named of a coalition of nations, and an unequaled religious figure in one of them. I had made myself and been made into the patchwork-cloaked opposite of the pilgrim in grey, one step at a time. And now I’d claimed a win over one that might be called my rival. This, I thought, felt like a pattern of three. One I had initiated as a villain, and with a victory.

I knew well what followed: draw and then finally defeat.

...

Black had been captured while I was in the Everdark, which meant the Dead King had either been mustering his armies or already on the march. The Pilgrim ended a strategic offensive that had a real risk of starving half the Principate into collapse if left unchecked while simultaneously acquiring leverage on both Malicia and myself. Snip with the soul and not only did he keep that leverage but he prepared a pattern of three. The degree of foresight that’d require was frightening, to be honest, and I suspected beyond even a hero in bed with a Choir. On the other hand, I wouldn’t put it beyond the Grey Pilgrim to do all this as a contingency. Ending a threat while expanding the tools at his disposal? Yeah, that might fit. He’d know he was exposing himself to my tearing through a gate and appearing behind him at some point down the line – rescuing my teacher would have quite the weight behind it – but cutting out the soul would muddle up that story and I suspected he could do quite a bit with the ability to predict where I’d appear when coming for the soul.

- Book 5, Chapter 29: Retrospect