——
Desmond stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of one hand. He felt better already. Much better. Fuck, he felt like a new man.
He turned to Abigail.
Just the two of them alone, just like old times, so to speak. However it turned out, Christina and Amy had no business getting involved in this. They had done more than enough. They were already free.
"Let's go," he said.
Christina took a few steps forward. Then, after a moment's hesitation, Amy did the same. It was as if they had taken her words as a sign.
She should have expected them to react that way.
That they would need to be brought to their senses.
Desmond held up a hand, signaling them to stop.
"No. You should stay behind, find a place… as safe as possible."
"We're a team." That was Christina's response.
As if that said it all. And maybe it did. Still…
"I know, but you've done more than enough."
Christina obviously didn't think so. And she let him know it right away.
"I'm as strong as you are. Stronger, even." Even if it hurt his pride a little, he couldn't deny it. If she became his enemy, she could easily tear him apart.
The only obstacle to that would have been that he could come back to life again and again.
Try as many times as it took until he got it right.
Now that, well. It was up in the air at best. So yes, she was stronger. Though she was also less resilient, even now. There was no denying that either.
But it wasn't the crux of the matter, not by a long shot.
"Even if you want to leave Amy behind, I…."
"That I'm afraid for your lives… is not the reason I don't want you in the middle of it. Do you understand?"
She hadn't understood. But she did now.
She really didn't like that.
Christina gritted her teeth, completely furious. More furious than she had ever seen him. Not even on that night had she ever shown him an expression like that.
He was a little taken aback.
He hadn't expected her to take it entirely well, but he had expected that knowing he was only saying it because he was worried about her state of mind, about what might happen to her in the midst of all that darkness and misery, would soften her a little.
No, nothing like that, quite the contrary.
He had improved quite a bit, but on many occasions he was as lost as ever, when it came to people.
Even those closest to him. Sadly.
Christina was so, so furious, for some reason, that it wasn't hard to imagine her throwing herself at him.
Amy put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.
Christina reacted to that immediately, dropping her shoulders, though still furious. And very tense.
Of course she had reacted that fast.
Now I'm the odd one out, he thought with a hint of irony and bitterness. That was probably not something he could change.
Desmond had made his decision that night, and decisions had consequences. They were back together, but that didn't change anything.
"He's right," Amy said. "We've done more than enough. We don't owe anything to anyone…or anything."
Christina forced herself to relax.
It didn't work. Tension bubbled under the surface, especially in her eyes. Those beautiful ones, which had been the first thing he'd noticed about her.
Violet, one of the rarest colors in the world. Color that only the eyes of shadow magic users had.
Special and beautiful.
How those eyes have changed, he told himself. And it's my fault.
He was like poison. He knew it.
Charlotte was still watching him intently, not taking her eyes off him, despite Amy's hand on one shoulder and despite what Amy had told her.
Desmond wished he didn't have her attention right now, though. That look was hard to bear.
Kinda surprised he hadn't given in and looked away already.
"I won't forgive you if you die," Christina said, finally.
"I won't die today."
Of that, at least, he could be sure. Yes. He wouldn't die. The gods had plans for him.
Plans, from what Abigail had told him, that might turn out to be worse than death. But he wouldn't fall today, in this place.
That was the important thing. Little by little. All in good time.
They said their goodbyes.
Next, he and Abigail headed back to the capital, which was in its death throes.
There were two of those spiders circling the palace like a mosquito caught in their deadly web.
Even at this distance he didn't need to strengthen his eyesight to see them, though it was strengthened anyway. That's how big they were. There had been a time when he had feared them as if they were death itself.
Now they were heading straight for the palace, where there was not one but two of those things.
And, one way or another, he would have to deal with them for the battle to end. But right now there was not a shadow of fear in his heart.
Desmond wondered why.
He thought maybe it was because of this incredible power that coursed through his veins, now. The power of Abigail's blood.
He understood why people could become addicted to that feeling and throw themselves into the abyss with a smile on their face. But he wouldn't succumb. He would be strong. He would be strong to the end.
No matter what kind of end came his way.
"We have to get to the palace as soon as possible," Abigail said, rushing to his side.
Desmond simply agreed, nodding his head.
Of course. The princess was most likely still in the palace. Dead or alive.
Desmond grimaced.
He didn't like to think about it, but it was a possibility. They had run away without even thinking about the princess, investing enough time.
And if they were still in time to save her, well, she could slip through their fingers on the way to the palace.
It didn't look good, on either front.
He supposed that they could be happy if they managed to save the capital, though not the princess, but they weren't doing this for an altruistic reason.
The princess had to live or they would run out of allies.
It was as simple as that.
So… failure wasn't an option.
Every second counted. That's why they couldn't waste time even with the soldiers that would inevitably cross their path, they had to run, run and keep running, without looking back for a second.
Desmond was aware of that.
He knew it was the ideal, the right thing to do. But it didn't take him long to break that rule.
Because he noticed an Empire soldier heading towards a house. Standing in front of the door, only to kick it down and burst into the home.
He couldn't see his face, from behind and with his helmet in the way to prevent him from catching even a small hint of his expression.
But it wasn't hard to imagine him smiling as he did so.
Smiling as he went into a random house for the sole purpose of slaughtering innocents. People who couldn't even defend themselves.
For pure pleasure, not for strategy.
If strategy was what dictated his moves, he would have gone after Albion's army, not its citizens.
The blood burned in Desmond's veins, begging him to tear him apart. Crying out for vengeance.
He gritted his teeth so hard they gnashed.
"Desmond?" Abigail's voice… sounded to him as if it came from another world.
Very distant, like the times when he could only talk to her mentally, with miles and miles of distance separating them.
That far away.
She didn't answer. Desmond just ran off.
"What the hell are you doing?"Abigail demanded.
A mistake. He knew he was making a big mistake. But, after everything that had happened to him…everything he'd gone through….
He couldn't stand idly by while others went through what he had.
It wasn't the same situation, his home had collapsed on top of their heads, burying them. But it was similar enough.
Desmond wasn't some kind of hero. Nor was he under any illusions about it.
This too he was doing for himself, not for this family he didn't even know. This too was his selfishness. Not an altruistic act.
Desmond stepped into the house, hearing Abigail's quick footsteps not far behind him.
He heard screams further into the house. Screams of fear, not pain. But they still made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Especially since one of those voices was that of a small child, no doubt.
He kept moving forward, sword in hand, teeth gnashing.
Abigail, behind him, said nothing.
She had chased him, but she wasn't going to stop him, it seemed. Well. She wouldn't be able to even if she tried. Maybe she was hoping he'd come to his senses and she wouldn't have to, even though he'd already come so far.
In that case, he would disappoint her.
once again.
Lately, he had gone against her wishes over and over again. That made him feel bad. Of course it did. It turned his stomach, but….
He really couldn't help it. He simply couldn't look away while this was going on.
He was aware of what it could cost him, but….
He wasn't a very rational person. The consequences didn't even seem real compared to the stark reality that was happening in front of his eyes. And that he would stop.
"Please," someone pleaded. A woman.
The mother, he thought.
His stomach lurched.
"You should thank me for what I'm going to do now." The cold voice of the Imperial soldier, signing his death sentence. "With every second you live, you will do nothing but suffer and make others suffer. This is… nothing more and nothing less than justice. Abominations."
He had heard more than enough. And he had found them.
Desmond followed the voices, taking the most direct path possible. In a straight line, cutting through as many as three walls as if they were made of paper. He emerged from the last wall with a shower of dust and debris all around him.
This, of course, took the soldier completely by surprise.
It startled him.
That didn't make him pull the trigger, killing the mother and the child trembling in his arms. What the soldier did was to turn toward the threatened woman, pointing his gun.
No. Not the soldier, but the soldiers. He hadn't seen them enter or even heard them, but there were two other soldiers with that one.
Well. It didn't change anything.
It didn't even slightly complicate things for him.
Desmond screamed like a wild beast as he swung the sword. He cleaved the nearest one in half with a single blow, but he didn't stop there.
Taking advantage of the momentum of the attack, he kept swinging.
Seizing the momentum of the attack, Desmond kept spinning, howling from the back of his throat.
He killed the second soldier before he could even pull the trigger.
The third opened fire. Out of his mind, without even taking aim. It was too LATE anyway.
Desmond struck downward.
Slicing the gun, causing it to fall to the ground in a thousand pieces.
But the next thing he did wasn't giving him the same treatment as the others. He could have done that, to end this in a quicker and more efficient way. But he went further.
He sank his fingers into his neck.
Desmond lifted him up as if he were a child while he resisted with all his might, scrambling and kicking at him.
Then he slammed his head against the wall.
With such force that it burst like a ripe melon between his fingers.
He dropped it like the piece of garbage it was, then stared, for some reason, at the blood and other fluids in the palm of his hand. As if hypnotized.
Until Abigail snapped him out of his thoughts, coming through the hole he'd made in the wall.
Anyway, this was over.
Abigail looked at him, then to the side. Something in her posture, her expression, or both made Desmond look in that direction, too.
He saw what he should have guessed.
The mother and child were still there. Shivering in the corner.
The mother looked as scared of him as she did of the soldiers who had come to slaughter her and her family. He couldn't blame her, after witnessing such a display of violence.
Although it hurt a little, he wasn't going to lie.
I am not the monster here.
The boy's gaze, on the other hand, reflected the complete opposite of his mother's feelings. Still he didn't like it.
He was looking at him funny, with something akin to admiration in his eyes.
Frankly, it made him uncomfortable.
"Hide. Keep yourselves safe," Desmond said, and the family didn't respond. Verbally or nonverbally. He couldn't know if they had heard his words or if they would listen to him.
He had already done all he could do for them, anyway.
He turned his back on them. As he passed Abigail, she reminded him of another hard truth.
"You can't do this in every house we see. Not if you want us to save Charlotte."
"I know." That was all he said in reply. All he could do.
Desmond shook his head as if mocking himself.
"I don't even feel better."
——
The cavalry had arrived, but Charlotte wasn't out of danger yet. The shock would only last for a while. Then the soldier would turn around, pull the trigger, and end all her life and aspirations with a single bullet.
There was nothing she could do to defend herself, in this state.
Bruised, without her sword, without access to her affinity.
She didn't have to.
A golden mask reached the soldier who had been about to execute her very, very quickly.
Because one of his own threw him like a ball.
Before the soldier knew it, he was on top of him. The golden mask disarmed him. He grabbed him, turned him over. And then slashed his neck from one end to the other, drawing a big smile.
He dropped the soldier at her feet. Charlotte looked at the blood pouring from the knife blade.
Then she stared into the soldier's glassy eyes as he died choking on his own blood. She felt no guilt of any kind, but no satisfaction either.
-Are you all right?
Charlotte turned her head.
The golden mask who had rescued him had spoken to her. And she recognized that voice immediately. She would recognize it anywhere.
It was Richard's voice. The man who had shattered the image of the perfect family that had helped her move forward all these years, with a single letter.
A secret her father had wanted to take to his grave.
But valuable enough…valuable enough to him, not to burn the letter. Getting rid of the evidence that could condemn him.
Richard reached out a hand to help her up.
Charlotte swatted it away from her, and looked up at him gritting her teeth, baring them all. He'd saved her, but she didn't give a shit now. She wouldn't hesitate to jump on him.
-Don't touch me," Charlotte spat her burning hatred.
She stood up unaided, as if spite had given her the strength to pull it off. Yes. That must have been it.
-I told you. We're on the same side.
Charlotte frowned. She didn't need to be reminded of that conversation. She'd mentally relived it ad nauseam every day since.
-For today," she replied.
She could put aside such grudges for the good of the nation.
But only up to a point.
Once the invasion was taken care of, the golden masks wouldn't just get in the way. They were like a cancer at the heart of her kingdom.
She had to remove it, no matter what. Before they caused any more damage.
And if she had to do it with her own hands? Oh well. She wouldn't complain.
"I see," Richard, the enemy, said. "It will have to be enough."
Charlotte, still a little unsteady on her feet, looked around, watching the progress of the battle. With the arrival of the golden masks, the tables were turning again.
No, that was saying too much.
The palace was an important place, but only one place. There was a war beyond these walls that she had no idea about.
Even if they were winning here, out there her people were suffering. Dying.
And, most certainly, losing.
The blue fire that gave the Empire its name was still roaring loudly, like a dragon, still spreading, devouring everything it touched.
But Charlotte felt a chill, despite the hellish heat.
If only Desmond was all right…..
Where was the boy in the first place? And the witch who was always with him? Had he abandoned her? In her time of greatest need?
We are friends, aren't we?
Besides… Besides, he still needs me.
"The flames are advancing." Richard coughed loudly. "We need to get moving. Give your orders."
They didn't have much time left, true. On either side. It's not as if the fire could distinguish between allies and enemies. It was nothing but fire, and Imperial meat was as good as Albionese meat.
"Start moving that over there," Charlotte ordered, pointing a finger at the mangled bipedal machine.
"What?"
"If I say jump, you jump. You don't need to know why."
That's how it should be, at least. She was his fucking queen in all but name.
Richard shrugged, taking her lightly. It was as if he wanted to piss her off. But at least he obeyed.
He didn't ask his men to help him, as she had hoped.
He held out a hand, enveloping the bipedal machine in a yellow light. In a few seconds the machine disappeared. It was immediately replaced by a very confused Imperial soldier, who stumbled over his own feet as he suddenly shifted and almost fell to the ground.
Shortly after, he heard a loud bang. The machine landing, she was willing to bet. She didn't turn around to check it out.
The soldier couldn't recover from the confusion of the moment. At least not in time for it to do any good, which was the same thing in essence.
A tentacle of water came from behind. It wrapped around his legs and pulled, dragging him along.
The soldier screamed as if he had been thrown into a meat grinder even before the water tentacle did anything to him. And by something he meant slamming him to the ground to death.
Charlotte hadn't gotten details on Richard's affinity, even after exhaustive research.
So it was good to see it in action. Apparently it wasn't one of those that were tricky. If he didn't have to replace what he wanted to move with something or someone, he wouldn't have brought that Imperial soldier to the place the machine had occupied.
The question was what its limits were.
But maybe she wouldn't need to find that out, maybe she could kill him before it mattered.
In any case.
Charlotte walked over to where the machine had been. She bent down and picked up the sword, which had been there from the beginning, as she guessed.
Intact. Good.
It had been her father's sword.
Her image of him… Of the family in general, had been damaged by the recent revelations. But it was her weapon, after all. It still meant something to her.
And she was used to it, as well as using her affinity through it.
Charlotte turned to her men. Her army.
"Soldiers, to me! Come on up!"
It was as if she was obeying Richard's advice, which annoyed her, to tell the truth. But no one needed to tell her they had to move. The room was falling apart around them, the flames kept going, going, going.
Evidently they were running out of time.
And moving wouldn't solve anything, but at least it would buy them some time.
Her own obeyed her without question. Some lingered, but only for a short time. And the reason was that they looked at the corpses of the people they were supposed to protect one last time.
Charlotte understood that. The guilt, the shame.
Besides, it was only for a few seconds.
The Imperial army, seeing them retreating, began to aggressively pursue them. As if they now had the advantage.
Even if you win in the end, I'll make sure it costs you dearly, she screamed within herself.
——
There was no time to waste, as Abigail had reminded her as gently as possible, given the circumstances.
So they wouldn't stop to help anyone else, but not because it wasn't necessary.
As soon as they left that house through the back door, Desmond saw citizens in danger. And he heard screams, blood-chilling screams, not too far away either.
He couldn't look away and move on.
Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do something.
But he had priorities, so he did nothing. Abigail and he simply continued on their way to the palace.
The poor citizens, who could not defend themselves, weren't the only ones they had to ignore. The Albion army was engaged in a fierce battle with the Imperial army throughout the city.
He shouldn't feel as bad about abandoning people who could defend themselves to their fate, who had also chosen to be protectors of the kingdom, they knew what they were getting into.
But the truth is that it didn't lessen his sense of guilt one bit.
The truth, too, was that it didn't matter. Desmond could feel as guilty as he wanted, but in the end he would do what he had to do. For his own good.
Something had driven him to help that family, even though even then it had been very clear to him that he shouldn't stop and every second counted.
Perhaps an attempt to redeem himself.
As he had said, the situation of those poor people had been surprisingly similar to his own that day. He had managed to save them, but he hadn't even felt any better.
Now…
He had the power to stop this. Not to stop all the deaths, he wasn't a god, but to save a large number of people.
As a child he had had no such power.
He hadn't even been able to move under his own feet. He had only been dragged by his savior, who had chosen him out of all people for no particular reason. Pure chance had saved him that day… or perhaps divine intervention.
In any case, even though he was now powerful, powerful enough… he was doing nothing.
He was repeating the same thing he had done that day.
Desmond was going through this hell, trying to ignore the screams. The pleas for help.
He kept walking, seeking only to help himself.
Redemption?
There was nothing he could do to get that. As long as he lived he would continue to accumulate regrets.
Desmond thought absently that it was as if he had been condemned by the gods to relive that day ten years ago over and over again.
If that were the case, he would lose his family as he did then. Sooner or later.
The spiders circled around the palace slowly, as if they were real spiders that could not wait for prey to fall into their webs.
But they already had it more than trapped.
The palace was full of holes, falling apart. Wrapped in blue flames that continued their march, that had almost consumed it completely. And drowned under large pieces of spider's web, which was designed for the purpose of conducting the blue fire.
-May it not be too late," Desmond pleaded quietly.
Were the gods listening? Better question still: did they care?
——
In the middle of the battle, near the top floor, Charlotte felt the ceiling shaking. She braced herself and ran, thinking it was going to come down on them.
She was wrong.
Quite the opposite happened.
It didn't fall, it went up. A piece of the palace was ripped off and thrown aside, leaving them exposed.
There was only one thing that could do something like that. Of course.
One of the spiders.
This was much worse than she had thought. The mechanical spider had removed all the obstacles, now it could crush them or spit more fire at them, before or after the spider webs.
Or keep tearing the palace apart like a toy, turning its ruins into everyone's graves.
Charlotte didn't want to die without a fight. She had come so far, refusing to give up. But now… She had nowhere to run. She didn't know what to do.
Even if she ran down the stairs, through the Imperial soldiers, she would most likely end up dead. Shot in all directions, filled with holes.
It was as if they had reached the roof, all open ground, now.
But, even using her affinity, she couldn't get very far. She could perhaps flee, but her soldiers were another story. Losing her army would sign her death warrant.
She couldn't win the battle alone.
She was frozen.
Even if there was a good move, she couldn't see it. She couldn't see a way forward.
This is over, she thought.
Her aides had filled her ears with stories of what they might do to her if they ever captured her. They wanted her dead, but that didn't mean they couldn't have fun before then.
If she had to die anyway, better to die on her own terms.
Charlotte lowered her head, looking at the blade of her sword.
Beginning to accept her fate.
But then she noticed a black blur at the edges of her vision, a blur that appeared suddenly. Followed by a bestial battle cry.
——
Desmond landed on the head of the mechanical spider, thrusting the sword against the glass with all the strength in his body, charged with the energy of Abigail's blood and rage.
He only succeeded in cracking the 'crystal', however.
A few cracks, nothing more.
Well, diverting attention away from the machine also counted as an achievement. Instead of raining fire on those still fighting inside the crumbling burning palace, the spider turned its attention to him, the new threat.
Several of its legs shot out to catch him.
Desmond charged his legs with power.
At the last moment, he unloaded it in a leap that carried him more than ten meters above the ground.
The sharp legs chased after him, trying to tear through him.
He dodged them in mid-air, spinning, spinning, spinning, along with his sword.
The spinning attack exploded the entire 'crystal' and practically split the spider in half. The two halves were connected by a few sparking wires and little else.