“You alright over there? That’s like the third time that you’ve referred to me with proper honorifics, and we’re not even in public. Still feeling sick?”
“I’m fine, Hanjae. The past several weeks have just been… a lot.”
In the best of ways, lately. That said, without Arken by my side, the weight of everything else she seemed to keep at bay was quickly catching up with me.
“I know I normally give you shit for this, Kieran, but why don’t you go rest in your office for a while? You look exhausted.”
And I really must’ve been, because the idea of a quick nap at my desk sounded as appealing as the softest feather bed in the world.
“I’m going to remind you of this later,” I warned. “This is clearly enabling my bad habits.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get your ass out of here. I expect a report from your men about the Wyldwoods within a week.”
“Yes, sir.”
I debriefed quickly with Jeremiah after leaving Commander Ka’s offices, instructing him on which men I wanted on the Wyldwoods patrols, before the exhaustion truly started to get the better of me.
Once I made it back to my own office, I flicked the lock closed, sank into my desk chair, and fell asleep within minutes.
Mist enshrouded the Wyldwoods that night, providing the cover I needed as I fled from the estate, clutching at my face in blind agony.
When I was far enough away, I leaned against the gnarled oak to catch my breath, chest heaving, hands bloodied, heart shredded. I didn’t bother to check behind me. I knew that once I left, my brother would not follow—the distance was only a precaution born of what little self-preservation I had left.
A dark, sick chuckle came from across the clearing.
“Fuck you,” I rasped.
As my sire stepped into the light, his face was as cold and indifferent as ever.
“Let this be the last lesson I have to teach you, my unfortunate heir,” he sneered. “There is a price for fighting against fate—and you won’t always be the one who pays that cost, Kieran. Who else has to die? When will you accept your duties?”
One day, I would end his pathetic existence and let that be the last lesson between us. For now, all I could really do with what remained of my stamina was spit in his direction with bared teeth.
“Never,” I hissed.
Without another word, the man turned away from me with clear disgust, took a single step forward, and then evaporated into Shadow.
I wanted to chase him down and make him pay for what he had done. A life for a life. But I could barely even keep myself upright. Instead, I stumbled back towards Sophrosyne, praying that I wouldn’t pass out from the blood loss before I could find a cleric…
My surroundings warped and twisted, and suddenly I was no longer in the Wyldwoods.
Now, I stood before a familiar obsidian table, inlaid with dark and ancient runes. Nausea surfaced at the memories I had here, but this time, it wasn’t a younger version of me being strapped down to that table.
It was Arken.
I lunged forward, trying to run to her—trying to call out her name—but my mouth and legs were bound. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I could only thrash in place and watch in agony as the Crones began to carve into the flesh of her back with ink, the same way they had done to me all those years ago. I remembered the pain all too well, the way the ink hadburned.
I was thrashing internally, drawing on every ounce of aether I had within to break whatever bound me. I would gladly strike down those withered bitches where they stood, but even at full strength, I could not escape.
Arken’s face crumpled with desperation as she cried out in fear and agony, but they held her down and continued their wicked work. Her blood mixed with ink as it spilled against her pale skin, a morbid canvas for their sadistic purpose.
“Kieran, please!”
I fought, and fought, and fought, but I still couldn’t move. I was silently screaming myself hoarse, I could feel my throat burn, but she still couldn’t hear me as tears slid down her cheeks. And then…
My sire returned, appearing just behind Arken atop the stone table.
As Dagon drew his jagged blade, wicked fangs gleaming in the dark, he smiled at me. Just before he slit the throat of the woman I loved.