Note to Readers: You may want to make sure you have a hanky on hand. ::cackles in evil glee::
~ Zanne
All Through the Night
Chapter Seven
Filia did not leave her room until morning. From time to time she caught brief spurts of fitful sleep, but for the most part, her mind was far too active to allow her to rest. Every detail had to be carefully balanced, or everything was at risk of falling through.
She needed to make her emotions in this believable. She needed the freedom to send Jillas and Gravos away when the time came, without risk of Xellos tracking them down to ensure they weren't trying to find Valgaav. Filia decided then that she couldn't afford to tell them what she was doing. She had to, eventually, when the right time came, but as long as they honestly believed what she was going to attempt...so much the better.
Their belief, the honesty of their emotions, that would have to be a factor in helping to carry out her plans. It would also allow for a believable reason for them to depart.
Soon, she would put things into action. The sun was starting to creep over the horizon, the deep, dark blue of the sky giving way to a paler lavender as Filia watched, feeling detached from everything. She hated what she would have to do, hated herself for it. Filia lay her head against the windowframe, silently pleading with Valgaav, wherever he was, that he would understand what she was doing, and why.
It was time.
Everyone looked to the doorway as Filia entered the kitchen, and Jillas immediately hurried to her side. "Oneesan! Are you okay? You look terrible."
Filia had seen her refection in her bedroom mirror while dressing, and knew he wasn't exaggerating. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor, and dark smudges blackened her eyes. "I didn't sleep well at all last night," Filia replied quietly, her voice a bit hoarse with fatigue. "I had a great deal on my mind." Coat the lie in as much truth as she could, that was the ticket. Make it easier to swallow.
Xellos said nothing from his place by the wall, standing calmly, one hand resting on his staff. His eyes were closed, his expression impassive as he watched Filia. She glanced to him, giving him a slight, exhausted nod of acknowledgment. One dark eyebrow arched past his bangs briefly.
"Come here, sit down," Jillas said, guiding her to a chair. "Just take it easy, oneesan. You push yourself too hard. I'll get your tea."
"Want some breakfast, boss?" Gravos asked.
"Please?" Filia rested her head against her hand, closing her eyes for a few moments. All too soon, she knew she would reach the point of no return. Even knowing it was necessary, she dreaded it all the same.
"Silly little dragon," Xellos said, his tone not unkind as he teleported into the chair beside Filia. Her tired, frayed nerves were not expecting that, and they jangled painfully in shock as she jumped.
Filia couldn't keep from shooting him a glare. "Don't do that."
Xellos merely smiled. "I told you I would decide what is worth worrying about. You really should take better care of yourself, silly, stubborn dragon."
Point of no return.
"It was something you had decided to be worth the worry," Filia replied, letting her tone remain annoyed as she rested her forehead in the palm of her hand again. Stay as true to her nature as possible. Keep things as truthful as she could. Above all, believe in what she was saying.
Xellos' tone vaguely hinted at surprise. "Oh?"
"I...I can't keep holding onto the past," Filia said quietly as Gravos put a bowl of stew before her. She reached for the freshly poured cup of tea and took a sip before glancing to Xellos. His eyes were open now, and he was watching her with an intense interest. Filia tried to fight down the twinge of fear at that intensity, and looked back down. "You...you're right."
"Am I now." His tone was silky smooth, and did not end with the inflection a question normally had.
Please, Cephied!
"Oneesan, what are you saying?"
"He...he's gone, Jillas. We tried a life together, it didn't work. I need to move on."
Both Jillas and Gravos went stone still, staring at her. She didn't even have to be Mazoku to pick up on some of their emotions; so plain they were on their faces. Shock, disbelief, betrayal, pain.
Xellos, on the other hand... The corners of his mouth turned upward ever so slightly, so slightly it was barely noticeable. Just the faintest hint of a smirk.
"I'm so glad you're willing to listen to reason!" he said cheerfully, and Filia fought to keep from flinching as his shrill voice grated against her already raw nerves.
Valgaav, I love you! I always will. Forgive me, please... Filia looked to her two stunned servants. "If one of you has the time," she said wearily, "would either of you bundle up the clothes he left behind? I'm sure there's others who would have need of them through the winter."
"Yer gittin' rid of his stuff?" Gravos asked gruffly, the expression in his remaining eye growing a bit chilly.
"He's not coming back, Gravos," Filia replied, looking into her teacup, taking a sip. Then she looked to Jillas. "I have some things I wish to sell. I'm sure the sum will be of good use to us to make it through the winter."
Jillas' expression, while not as cold as Gravos', was still guarded, wary. "Of course." He hesitated. "What are they?"
Wordlessly, Filia withdrew several things from her apron pocket, laying them on the table, trying not to flinch when she heard Jillas' shocked gasp. It was the barrette, as well as several other little things Valgaav had purchased for her.
She didn't need to look at Xellos to know he was smiling gleefully.
Gravos made a disgusted sound, tossing the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the pot of stew onto the counter. Filia jumped slightly at the clattering, and fought to breathe past the lump in her throat as he stalked out the back door.
"Jillas, if you would, please take these to--"
"I'll do it, Miss Filia." She winced at the eager cheer in Xellos' tone. "Don't look so troubled, you're doing the right thing."
Jillas stayed silent, just watching them.
"Thank you, Mister Xellos," Filia murmured, and tried to keep her hands from trembling as she gathered up the jewelry, and placed them in his outstretched, gloved hand. "Please make sure I get a fair price for them. We need the money."
"Of course! Worry not, Miss Filia. All will be fine." He patted her head as he stood, and picked up his staff, teleporting out.
It took self-control Filia didn't know she had until that point not to completely break down sobbing.
Jillas didn't move for a moment, then wordlessly walked over to where Gravos threw the spoon, and began to wipe up the splatters of stew. Now was a good time as any. She couldn't level with Jillas, but she hoped he would at least still help her. Filia stood, willing her knees not to give way, and withdrew two pieces of paper from her other pocket as she approached him.
"Jillas, there are two things which I need for you to do for me."
"What are they?" He didn't look at her.
Filia studied him. "Actually, make that three."
"What?"
"The first is, please, trust me. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but trust me. For all the time you've known me, please trust me," she pleaded softly.
Jillas looked at her, still guarded and closed. Finally he nodded. "All right. What else?"
She handed him the first piece of paper. "Could you deliver that to Missus Brucks? Pay for it out of the money from the sale of the jewels."
Jillas took it from her, looking it over. "The rug-weaver lady?"
"Yes." She handed over the second. "The final favor, I need for you to build this, but to..." Filia trailed off, searching for the right way to phrase it. "But to not be obvious about it either."
He glanced up at her solemnly out of the corner of his eye, and looked at the sketch she made, studying the notes. Jillas frowned in confusion. "What is this? You want a wagon you can keep a fire going in?"
"Yes."
Jillas continued to look it over for a few more minutes, then his ears twitched. His gaze, wide and bright with a look of surprised comprehension, snapped up to meet hers.
Ever so slightly, Filia nodded.
Jillas gave her a grim smile, then the darkly guarded look he had before was back. "I'll see what I can work out."
"Use the remainder of the money to pay for it." Filia lowered her voice. "Use the Seyruun crest to pay for the balance, and also, purchase an ox. They're at the best price now anyway, I think."
"Yeah. The ones that haven't had a good year with crops will sometimes sell the livestock for the winter. One less mouth to feed when the snows come."
Filia squeezed his shoulder in gratitude, and bent low to his ear. "Stay angry," she murmured. "That's critical to this." Jillas glanced at her, then nodded slightly.
The first steps were well underway.
Sleep only worked for bringing oblivion for a short while. Then the nightmares always began. Merry-mad jumbles of memories and fears that left him upon waking feeling weak and miserable. Accusations. Blood. Loss. Pain. Grief. Guilt. All those and more blended into a demented kaleidoscope whenever he slept.
Although Valgaav was awake, he did not open his eyes or move. The guilt was the worse, compounded by the low-burning rage and indignation. He had no right to those feelings, from all the evidence on hand.
He couldn't have harmed Filia like that. He didn't want to believe it, and it didn't ring true. But yet, all the evidence pointed in the opposite direction. He felt betrayed, yet everything suggested that he was the one who had done the betraying. That was why he tried to sleep, to escape the neverending, vicious circle of thought.
If only he could remember, then maybe he could find some escape.
There was another route of escape, and one he had been contemplating with increasing frequency as the days dragged into weeks, and the weeks into months. He didn't even need to take an active hand, just remain still and wait for it to come. He wasn't Mazoku anymore. He needed to eat.
But something kept him moving, striving. When he didn't want to keep trying, subtle reminders would drift through his mind, and lethargy would become action. Filia had used some of her own life energy to save his own. Even after all he had done, forcing her to open the gateway to bring in the destruction of their world, she still sacrificed for him.
He couldn't allow himself to throw that away. No, death was a release. If he had harmed her, even after all she had given him, then he didn't deserve such a release.
"Such a rich banquet. I really must thank you for a fine meal."
Valgaav's head snapped up, his eyes opening quickly as his lip curled back from his fangs in a deep snarl at the cheerful voice. The surge of hatred he felt was almost paralyzing as he watched a familiar figure step out of the shadows.
"Get out," Valgaav growled, quivering in fury.
"Oh, don't worry, I don't plan to linger in your presence. I can only tolerate looking at you for so long," Xellos replied, smirking smugly. His closed eyes opened to slits.
Rational thought and reason were quickly fleeing under the pressing weight of dragonrage. Valgaav dug his talons into the rocky floor of the cavern, and it crumbled beneath his grip. He pushed himself to his feet, his head low, his wings flared threateningly.
He snarled loudly in fury, the sound reverberating off the walls as Xellos laughed in amusement.
"You presume to think you pose a threat to me?" Xellos said, and continued laughing. "You fool. You never posed a threat to me even as a Mazoku, and look at you now, just a dragon. I could crush you without even any effort!"
"But that would require expending power all the same," Valgaav murmured, his voice low and deep from the effort of keeping himself under some semblance of control. "And for that, you require permission."
"How do you know I don't have it?" Xellos asked.
"Because you're not doing a thing."
"Because you're much more fun alive and miserable," Xellos countered, and grinned gleefully.
Valgaav hissed, and his growl bordered on becoming a roar. "What do you want?"
"Just to deliver a present." Xellos' eyes were wide open, and he grinned in malicious delight as he flung a small object at Valgaav's feet.
Valgaav recoiled slightly on reflex, expecting a trick, and something glittered dully in the faint light. As his eyes focused on it, the realization of what it was hit him like a giga slave.
It was the barrette he had given Filia.
"What have you done to her?" Valgaav snapped, glaring murderously at Xellos. "If you've killed her--"
Xellos snorted. "Killed her? Hardly. As it is, that barrette is her own doing. She wants you out of her life."
Of all the blows Xellos could have delivered, that one was the worst. It felt like everything in his chest had just been ripped to shreds. "What?"
"You heard me." Xellos grinned, his voice irritatingly cheerful.
"I'm already out of her life," Valgaav murmured, growling softly. The rage was dying down, unable to stay afloat under the pain crashing over him.
"Not completely. She's getting rid of your clothes, everything that belonged to you, and she's sold off all the cheep little trinkets you tried to buy her off with." Xellos was clearly enjoying himself. "I just thought you might like that little toy back."
"Get out." His voice was low, rough and husky. Granite cracked into gravel under his talons.
"But of course." Xellos bowed mockingly, and grinned. "Miss Filia is expecting me back."
Valgaav stared at him, wishing an eternity of dying over and over again in all the most painful ways fathomable on Xellos. He shouldn't ask. He didn't want to know. But yet...he had to. "She knows you're here?"
"She sent me to dispose of these things." He gestured his hand toward the barrette, and grinned viciously. "My little dragon has chosen me over you."
Something in him snapped, and he snarled in fury, striking at the floor, sending a spray of broken granite along with the barrette at Xellos, who easily shielded himself. "GET OUT!"
Xellos laughed, and bowed again. "And a good day to you, too."
Valgaav stared at the empty shadows for countless long minutes after the Mazoku priest vanished, trembling under the sheer force of the tumultuous emotions. Damn him. Damn them. Damn them all, and damn her. How could she do this? Why?
Oh, he knew why. He couldn't remember it, but he knew just the same. He'd hurt her one time too many, and it was for the best that she got on with her life. She was still so very young.
But could she have really gotten over him that quickly? How long had it been? He'd lost track. Three months? More?
Had she ever really loved him at all?
Snarling in wounded fury, he struck out against the cavern walls, his talons biting deep into the rock. A Mazoku? She chose one who murdered her own people over him? A bitter, deep laugh welled up inside him.
Wasn't that essentially what he had done with her? Chosen to mate to one of the race which had left him utterly alone?
It made sense, all of it. At least to his mind, among the last few relics of logic that hung on. It was incomprehensible to his heart. Everything was wrong.
Suddenly, he stopped pacing as his gaze landed on the barrette again. The fury fled, leaving behind only a bone-deep apathy that robbed whatever strength he possessed. Valgaav's legs gave way, and he collapsed on the floor of the cave, curling into a ball, covering his head with a wing.
And, for the first time since the Massacre, he wept.
~ Zanne
Chapter Seven
Filia did not leave her room until morning. From time to time she caught brief spurts of fitful sleep, but for the most part, her mind was far too active to allow her to rest. Every detail had to be carefully balanced, or everything was at risk of falling through.
She needed to make her emotions in this believable. She needed the freedom to send Jillas and Gravos away when the time came, without risk of Xellos tracking them down to ensure they weren't trying to find Valgaav. Filia decided then that she couldn't afford to tell them what she was doing. She had to, eventually, when the right time came, but as long as they honestly believed what she was going to attempt...so much the better.
Their belief, the honesty of their emotions, that would have to be a factor in helping to carry out her plans. It would also allow for a believable reason for them to depart.
Soon, she would put things into action. The sun was starting to creep over the horizon, the deep, dark blue of the sky giving way to a paler lavender as Filia watched, feeling detached from everything. She hated what she would have to do, hated herself for it. Filia lay her head against the windowframe, silently pleading with Valgaav, wherever he was, that he would understand what she was doing, and why.
It was time.
Everyone looked to the doorway as Filia entered the kitchen, and Jillas immediately hurried to her side. "Oneesan! Are you okay? You look terrible."
Filia had seen her refection in her bedroom mirror while dressing, and knew he wasn't exaggerating. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor, and dark smudges blackened her eyes. "I didn't sleep well at all last night," Filia replied quietly, her voice a bit hoarse with fatigue. "I had a great deal on my mind." Coat the lie in as much truth as she could, that was the ticket. Make it easier to swallow.
Xellos said nothing from his place by the wall, standing calmly, one hand resting on his staff. His eyes were closed, his expression impassive as he watched Filia. She glanced to him, giving him a slight, exhausted nod of acknowledgment. One dark eyebrow arched past his bangs briefly.
"Come here, sit down," Jillas said, guiding her to a chair. "Just take it easy, oneesan. You push yourself too hard. I'll get your tea."
"Want some breakfast, boss?" Gravos asked.
"Please?" Filia rested her head against her hand, closing her eyes for a few moments. All too soon, she knew she would reach the point of no return. Even knowing it was necessary, she dreaded it all the same.
"Silly little dragon," Xellos said, his tone not unkind as he teleported into the chair beside Filia. Her tired, frayed nerves were not expecting that, and they jangled painfully in shock as she jumped.
Filia couldn't keep from shooting him a glare. "Don't do that."
Xellos merely smiled. "I told you I would decide what is worth worrying about. You really should take better care of yourself, silly, stubborn dragon."
Point of no return.
"It was something you had decided to be worth the worry," Filia replied, letting her tone remain annoyed as she rested her forehead in the palm of her hand again. Stay as true to her nature as possible. Keep things as truthful as she could. Above all, believe in what she was saying.
Xellos' tone vaguely hinted at surprise. "Oh?"
"I...I can't keep holding onto the past," Filia said quietly as Gravos put a bowl of stew before her. She reached for the freshly poured cup of tea and took a sip before glancing to Xellos. His eyes were open now, and he was watching her with an intense interest. Filia tried to fight down the twinge of fear at that intensity, and looked back down. "You...you're right."
"Am I now." His tone was silky smooth, and did not end with the inflection a question normally had.
Please, Cephied!
"Oneesan, what are you saying?"
"He...he's gone, Jillas. We tried a life together, it didn't work. I need to move on."
Both Jillas and Gravos went stone still, staring at her. She didn't even have to be Mazoku to pick up on some of their emotions; so plain they were on their faces. Shock, disbelief, betrayal, pain.
Xellos, on the other hand... The corners of his mouth turned upward ever so slightly, so slightly it was barely noticeable. Just the faintest hint of a smirk.
"I'm so glad you're willing to listen to reason!" he said cheerfully, and Filia fought to keep from flinching as his shrill voice grated against her already raw nerves.
Valgaav, I love you! I always will. Forgive me, please... Filia looked to her two stunned servants. "If one of you has the time," she said wearily, "would either of you bundle up the clothes he left behind? I'm sure there's others who would have need of them through the winter."
"Yer gittin' rid of his stuff?" Gravos asked gruffly, the expression in his remaining eye growing a bit chilly.
"He's not coming back, Gravos," Filia replied, looking into her teacup, taking a sip. Then she looked to Jillas. "I have some things I wish to sell. I'm sure the sum will be of good use to us to make it through the winter."
Jillas' expression, while not as cold as Gravos', was still guarded, wary. "Of course." He hesitated. "What are they?"
Wordlessly, Filia withdrew several things from her apron pocket, laying them on the table, trying not to flinch when she heard Jillas' shocked gasp. It was the barrette, as well as several other little things Valgaav had purchased for her.
She didn't need to look at Xellos to know he was smiling gleefully.
Gravos made a disgusted sound, tossing the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the pot of stew onto the counter. Filia jumped slightly at the clattering, and fought to breathe past the lump in her throat as he stalked out the back door.
"Jillas, if you would, please take these to--"
"I'll do it, Miss Filia." She winced at the eager cheer in Xellos' tone. "Don't look so troubled, you're doing the right thing."
Jillas stayed silent, just watching them.
"Thank you, Mister Xellos," Filia murmured, and tried to keep her hands from trembling as she gathered up the jewelry, and placed them in his outstretched, gloved hand. "Please make sure I get a fair price for them. We need the money."
"Of course! Worry not, Miss Filia. All will be fine." He patted her head as he stood, and picked up his staff, teleporting out.
It took self-control Filia didn't know she had until that point not to completely break down sobbing.
Jillas didn't move for a moment, then wordlessly walked over to where Gravos threw the spoon, and began to wipe up the splatters of stew. Now was a good time as any. She couldn't level with Jillas, but she hoped he would at least still help her. Filia stood, willing her knees not to give way, and withdrew two pieces of paper from her other pocket as she approached him.
"Jillas, there are two things which I need for you to do for me."
"What are they?" He didn't look at her.
Filia studied him. "Actually, make that three."
"What?"
"The first is, please, trust me. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but trust me. For all the time you've known me, please trust me," she pleaded softly.
Jillas looked at her, still guarded and closed. Finally he nodded. "All right. What else?"
She handed him the first piece of paper. "Could you deliver that to Missus Brucks? Pay for it out of the money from the sale of the jewels."
Jillas took it from her, looking it over. "The rug-weaver lady?"
"Yes." She handed over the second. "The final favor, I need for you to build this, but to..." Filia trailed off, searching for the right way to phrase it. "But to not be obvious about it either."
He glanced up at her solemnly out of the corner of his eye, and looked at the sketch she made, studying the notes. Jillas frowned in confusion. "What is this? You want a wagon you can keep a fire going in?"
"Yes."
Jillas continued to look it over for a few more minutes, then his ears twitched. His gaze, wide and bright with a look of surprised comprehension, snapped up to meet hers.
Ever so slightly, Filia nodded.
Jillas gave her a grim smile, then the darkly guarded look he had before was back. "I'll see what I can work out."
"Use the remainder of the money to pay for it." Filia lowered her voice. "Use the Seyruun crest to pay for the balance, and also, purchase an ox. They're at the best price now anyway, I think."
"Yeah. The ones that haven't had a good year with crops will sometimes sell the livestock for the winter. One less mouth to feed when the snows come."
Filia squeezed his shoulder in gratitude, and bent low to his ear. "Stay angry," she murmured. "That's critical to this." Jillas glanced at her, then nodded slightly.
The first steps were well underway.
Sleep only worked for bringing oblivion for a short while. Then the nightmares always began. Merry-mad jumbles of memories and fears that left him upon waking feeling weak and miserable. Accusations. Blood. Loss. Pain. Grief. Guilt. All those and more blended into a demented kaleidoscope whenever he slept.
Although Valgaav was awake, he did not open his eyes or move. The guilt was the worse, compounded by the low-burning rage and indignation. He had no right to those feelings, from all the evidence on hand.
He couldn't have harmed Filia like that. He didn't want to believe it, and it didn't ring true. But yet, all the evidence pointed in the opposite direction. He felt betrayed, yet everything suggested that he was the one who had done the betraying. That was why he tried to sleep, to escape the neverending, vicious circle of thought.
If only he could remember, then maybe he could find some escape.
There was another route of escape, and one he had been contemplating with increasing frequency as the days dragged into weeks, and the weeks into months. He didn't even need to take an active hand, just remain still and wait for it to come. He wasn't Mazoku anymore. He needed to eat.
But something kept him moving, striving. When he didn't want to keep trying, subtle reminders would drift through his mind, and lethargy would become action. Filia had used some of her own life energy to save his own. Even after all he had done, forcing her to open the gateway to bring in the destruction of their world, she still sacrificed for him.
He couldn't allow himself to throw that away. No, death was a release. If he had harmed her, even after all she had given him, then he didn't deserve such a release.
"Such a rich banquet. I really must thank you for a fine meal."
Valgaav's head snapped up, his eyes opening quickly as his lip curled back from his fangs in a deep snarl at the cheerful voice. The surge of hatred he felt was almost paralyzing as he watched a familiar figure step out of the shadows.
"Get out," Valgaav growled, quivering in fury.
"Oh, don't worry, I don't plan to linger in your presence. I can only tolerate looking at you for so long," Xellos replied, smirking smugly. His closed eyes opened to slits.
Rational thought and reason were quickly fleeing under the pressing weight of dragonrage. Valgaav dug his talons into the rocky floor of the cavern, and it crumbled beneath his grip. He pushed himself to his feet, his head low, his wings flared threateningly.
He snarled loudly in fury, the sound reverberating off the walls as Xellos laughed in amusement.
"You presume to think you pose a threat to me?" Xellos said, and continued laughing. "You fool. You never posed a threat to me even as a Mazoku, and look at you now, just a dragon. I could crush you without even any effort!"
"But that would require expending power all the same," Valgaav murmured, his voice low and deep from the effort of keeping himself under some semblance of control. "And for that, you require permission."
"How do you know I don't have it?" Xellos asked.
"Because you're not doing a thing."
"Because you're much more fun alive and miserable," Xellos countered, and grinned gleefully.
Valgaav hissed, and his growl bordered on becoming a roar. "What do you want?"
"Just to deliver a present." Xellos' eyes were wide open, and he grinned in malicious delight as he flung a small object at Valgaav's feet.
Valgaav recoiled slightly on reflex, expecting a trick, and something glittered dully in the faint light. As his eyes focused on it, the realization of what it was hit him like a giga slave.
It was the barrette he had given Filia.
"What have you done to her?" Valgaav snapped, glaring murderously at Xellos. "If you've killed her--"
Xellos snorted. "Killed her? Hardly. As it is, that barrette is her own doing. She wants you out of her life."
Of all the blows Xellos could have delivered, that one was the worst. It felt like everything in his chest had just been ripped to shreds. "What?"
"You heard me." Xellos grinned, his voice irritatingly cheerful.
"I'm already out of her life," Valgaav murmured, growling softly. The rage was dying down, unable to stay afloat under the pain crashing over him.
"Not completely. She's getting rid of your clothes, everything that belonged to you, and she's sold off all the cheep little trinkets you tried to buy her off with." Xellos was clearly enjoying himself. "I just thought you might like that little toy back."
"Get out." His voice was low, rough and husky. Granite cracked into gravel under his talons.
"But of course." Xellos bowed mockingly, and grinned. "Miss Filia is expecting me back."
Valgaav stared at him, wishing an eternity of dying over and over again in all the most painful ways fathomable on Xellos. He shouldn't ask. He didn't want to know. But yet...he had to. "She knows you're here?"
"She sent me to dispose of these things." He gestured his hand toward the barrette, and grinned viciously. "My little dragon has chosen me over you."
Something in him snapped, and he snarled in fury, striking at the floor, sending a spray of broken granite along with the barrette at Xellos, who easily shielded himself. "GET OUT!"
Xellos laughed, and bowed again. "And a good day to you, too."
Valgaav stared at the empty shadows for countless long minutes after the Mazoku priest vanished, trembling under the sheer force of the tumultuous emotions. Damn him. Damn them. Damn them all, and damn her. How could she do this? Why?
Oh, he knew why. He couldn't remember it, but he knew just the same. He'd hurt her one time too many, and it was for the best that she got on with her life. She was still so very young.
But could she have really gotten over him that quickly? How long had it been? He'd lost track. Three months? More?
Had she ever really loved him at all?
Snarling in wounded fury, he struck out against the cavern walls, his talons biting deep into the rock. A Mazoku? She chose one who murdered her own people over him? A bitter, deep laugh welled up inside him.
Wasn't that essentially what he had done with her? Chosen to mate to one of the race which had left him utterly alone?
It made sense, all of it. At least to his mind, among the last few relics of logic that hung on. It was incomprehensible to his heart. Everything was wrong.
Suddenly, he stopped pacing as his gaze landed on the barrette again. The fury fled, leaving behind only a bone-deep apathy that robbed whatever strength he possessed. Valgaav's legs gave way, and he collapsed on the floor of the cave, curling into a ball, covering his head with a wing.
And, for the first time since the Massacre, he wept.
to be continued...