Chapter 190
The Red-Dyed Star
It began to rain. Though it hadn't rained in weeks, the skies above suddenly ashened and the thick rain began to pelt the world beneath. Thunder, too, joined soon after--as though through the will of the world, a desperate attempt to hide what was happening. To mask it. To retire numerous souls with at least a shred of dignity. But it was not enough.
The screams of agony, horror, terror, and pure madness were louder than the booms of thunder. The beyond-red sea shimmered beneath the rain, turning it crimson in the process, too. The corpses were mired in mud, indistinguishable one from another, hills appearing like burial mounds.
The night fell quickly, shrouding the sight in stark darkness, for neither the mortal nor immortal were fit to bear witness. Valen and others have long since turned away and hid, closed their eyes and ears and swayed like rocked babes. The only one who stayed behind was Asha, hidden in the clouds of obscurity, her eyes glazed with complex emotion.
Perched on her shoulder was a crow, still like time. The pair watched without looking away, watched at something that would leave a scar even when the time would be unwound. Moments like these remain etched in the sands of time, a permanent wound that would fester for all eternity.
"He is death, dearest one," the crow said.
"... he is," Asha replied somberly. "You see it too? The Mark."
"Yes. Mother had the same Mark."
"She did. Hers was darker still."
"Though Death he is, the Reaper he is not, dear doe," the crow said. "He is a Man still, after all."
"..."
"Do you have doubts?"
"I do," Asha nodded faintly. "I worry. I worry we made him into something he never wanted to be."
"Few ever wish they were Death, dear doe. And those who do are not worth the Mark. He had made the choice."
"... he did," Asha sighed. And yet... why... why does it break my heart, seeing him like this?" she glanced to the side and at the crow. "Just like when Mother marked you."
"You love him," the crow said as it suddenly flew to the top of Asha's head. "And the Mark bleeds the heart. But, dearest doe, he is not like me. Or even Mother. My heart bled cold eventually, for the Mark chills. But... he has more than one heart. That is why he resists, still. Time erodes all, and there had never been a man or a woman who resisted the temptation of nothingness for as long as he did."
"That is why it hurts as much as it does," Asha said. "He feels it, still. All of this."
"Then be there for him, when the winds cool and the blood dries."
"..." the crow vanished in the whiff of ash and wind, disappearing as though it were never there. Just then, the last scream seemed to echo--and the stillness abruptly took over.
She saw him, in the distance, beyond the cover of darkness and night and corpses. His back seemed so... small. The ones that used to shoulder the weight of the heavens now looked incomparably small, hunched. He rested on the sword embedded in the ground, his skin wholly crimson with blood.
She walked over, with him only realizing she was there when she stopped in front of him. The look in his eyes was haunting, barely lucid. He was breathing heavily, his face dripping with fresh blood still.
"... thank the gods you'll forget this shit," he said as he straightened up, wiping the blood from his forehead and moving away the hair that had glued itself there. "Kinda nuts you ain't screeching right about now."
"I'm screeching inside," she smiled faintly, summoning a bottle of water and washing his face.
"Sure look it," Sylas said, stretching as he dropped the sword.
"How many times have you died?" she asked.
"Eleven? Maybe?" Sylas replied. "It became a bit of a blur halfway through, to be honest. I still have two hearts left, so I was never in any real danger."
"Yes, yes, you are quite heroic. One man against an entire army. The songs will be sang."
"More like horror stories," Sylas said. "Wanna have some bets with me over how they'll react? I bet half of them will kneel at the sight of me, praying I don't kill them too. The half of the other half will preach that I had gone too far. The remaining half of the half will plead with me that I keep this shit up."
"... people are predictable," she said. "Well, except for you. You always manage to surprise me."
"Ditto," he chuckled lightly. "You must really love me, huh?"
"Hm?" she arched her brow.
"Well, here you are. Washing blood off my face. Surrounded by literal tens of thousands of corpses, having witnessed me kill them all. Somehow, it feels I corrupted you."
"Oh, well, yes. You certainly did that," she said. "I was the purest maiden, you know? Married to Gods. But you stole me, like a devil! Bewitched me with your wily charms. And now... now I am under your spell, like a plaything! How accursed a fate, is it not?" Sylas rolled his eyes gently as Asha summoned two chairs and the two sat down.
"Your tongue is growing."
"Has to, in order to keep up with yours."
"... it's horrifying, Ash."
"What is?"
"I don't feel it."
"What?"
"Guilt."
"..."
"There's a gaping hole in me," he said, looking down. "And I... I know I should feel something. But... there's nothing."
"But you do feel it?"
"... huh?"
"Emotions aren't intrinsically of heart, Sylas," she said. "They're as much in the head as they are in the heart. The guiltless would not even know they ought to feel guilt. Sometimes... the knowing is enough."
"... your tongue really is growing," he said. "You should make it stop."
"E-eh?"
"Oh, come on. The only thing I bring to this relationship is quick and sharp wit and unfiltered tongue," Sylas said. "If you take that away from me, what am I? Just a body full of perfect muscles?"
"That's enough for me, you know?" she smiled.
"I suddenly feel so dirty."
"Then we should definitely not get you a mirror."
"... aah. There it is. I have nothing left," Sylas slumped to the side. "It's... it's like my purpose is being drained by a hot thing nearby."
"While I would simply love to indulge your nonsense," Asha said. "I think it's time, Sylas."
"For?"
"To see the faces of the people you did this for," she said. "You'll have to confront them, sooner or later. No, scratch that," she quickly interrupted. "Just sooner."
"Yeah, I guess. It's time to watch some kids shit their pants," Sylas stood up and stretched. "At least their reactions will be normal, compared to yours."
"Are you saying I'm not normal?"
"Are you saying you are?"
"Well, that just breaks my heart," she said, grabbing his hand. "Are you going to be alright?" she questioned.
"Yeah," he said. "It won't be the first time."
The two walked back through the darkness and the piles of corpses, reaching the encampment some ten minutes later. There, as he suspected, he saw everyone staring at him--eyes transfixed in hundreds of emotions, more than a heart could count. Some were shivering, some were looking down, some where seething... a thousand lips held a thousand words.
"... man, thank the gods I don't have to fart right now," Sylas said, unhooking his hand from Asha's and pulling back the hair that had started to fall down once again. "Alright, you lot. Out with it. Don't pepper your lips with cowardice, now. Who here thinks I'm a devil or whatever can step out and stab me a couple of times. I'll bleed, like all men do. But yes, I won't die. Does that make a devil? I don't fuckin' know. Maybe? Also, the few of you that look like you're about to start worshiping my ass, just remember that it was me who took that shitter that caused half of you chumps to heave and gag. So, out with it."
"... you look like you'd make a good lumberjack," Derrek said suddenly, his words causing most people to nearly topple and fall. While it looked like quite a few wanted to laugh, they held it back in while Sylas looked strangely at the man. He knew that the one-armed knight wanted to dissipate the heavy atmosphere... but he wasn't quite good at it.
"Why? 'cause I can split people in one move, so I'd be able to split logs even cleaner?"
"Yes, pretty much."
"Well, it's true," Sylas said. "I've all the qualities of a good lumberjack--a magnificent beard, a body to match, and the gruff countenance that has delusional women believing it's peak manhood. You know what I don't have?"
"What?"
"A fuckin' ax, ironically."
"Pfft..."
"Let me ask you something," he said suddenly, his voice turning emotionless. "Are you happy?"
"..."
"If you had gone out to fight as you were, you would have died."
"..."
"I'm not blind. None of us are, deep down. There's glee in you. Horror and hatred and woe and damnation, too. But glee is present. Life is precious, after all. But... are you happy with this?"
"..."
"You witnessed a man kill an army. And you beset the sins that should have been yours on me. Are you fine with that? 'cause, if you are, I'll kick all of you fuckers back north and put the Prince on my back and march to the capital on my own."
"What he means," Asha pelted the back of his head gently. "Is that he's terribly ashamed of what he had done and wants to share some of the burden next time."
"What? No, that's not at all what I'm saying!"
"Shut up and be helped, you idiot!"
"All else notwithstanding," Valen suddenly spoke up, smiling faintly. "You are not a devil, Sylas. You never were. You are just like my Father--someone who cannot be quantified by normal means. You are right. We quivered and chanced a thought of easy victory. And you delivered it--and our hearts now reel in a contradiction. Quite an expensive price to pay for a lesson that could have been taught in words, no?" the Prince added with an arched brow.
"Ah, yes. Words. A mighty thing. Too bad you lot are all stupid. No offense--so I am. Otherwise, I would have find a way to get through to you."
"No, no," Asha said. "I'm pretty sure it's just you who's stupid."
"Fine, fine. I shall bear the burden of stupidity! Ah. Right. Charmin' words won't fix it, so, to the few of you who are planning on stabbing a dagger through my throat when I'm sleeping... think twice. Two hundred thousand men just stabbed thousands of times... and I still stand," his words, though spoken casually, chilled the world--they had forgotten, however momentarily, the reality that they had witnessed. "So, unless that dagger was pissed on by the gods and blessed, I'd keep the righteous vitriol to myself. Alas, the time for speeches is over. Find a few brave folk with good stomachs to go and retrieve what can be reused. I'm gonna go and take a nap."
Silence followed him into the darkness, though the tall shoulders shrunk ever so slightly under the countless eyes. And yet, a smile whispered softly on his lips--for he found it, deep in his heart. Though it was for but a flash... he felt it--guilt. He was a human still, his broken mind be damned.