Chapter XX
Pledge
Zane's anxious footsteps clack back and forth on the corridor, his arms crossed, his clothes are still the same torn, dirty ones from the underground, a deep furrow on his eyebrows as he hounds the door of his own room looking at the immovable shadow of it formed by the ceiling lights.
Why did she follow him to the underground? He didn't ask her to or even suggest it. Besides, she was trying hard to get back at the other summoners by draining their energy, she knows it's bad for her.
Reminiscing how weightless she was on his arms, so frail he feared leaving marks just by holding her, how much pain has she suffered to faint like that given the amount of energy she forced herself to absorb? His blood pressure rises just thinking about it.
Not that he's the most upstanding example either, he had injuries too. It's his fault for being negligent, but he thought he made his point with her leading a peaceful life after she leaves with the rebels. Yet…
A click soars, his gaze immediately turning at the sound, his arms uncrossing in anticipation when nurse Fontaine comes out of the room.
"How is she?!"
He jumps in, his mouth gaping open to ask the next hundred questions, her raised hand interrupting it:
"She'll be fine, but what were you thinking?! Going to the underground without enough gems and using a catalyst?! The Zane Truesdale I know is much smarter than this!"
He lowers his head, feeling in fifth grade scolded by the teacher. "I-I'm sorry."
"Save your apologies to her!" she huffs, folding her arms. "You said before that she couldn't control her powers, we don't know if that will happen again, so stay away just for safety. Her health will degrade quickly if you let more energy seep into her body."
"I understand… Will she be alright?"
"Yes, but in layman's words, she's 'drunk' with duel energy. I've never seen this, not even in the war. It seems most of it was released, but it's a miracle her gemstone didn't break! Do you know what it means? She could've died there, Zane. When a catalyst's gem breaks it's their end! Their bodies have a breakdown, that's how they were made to be."
"I don't know how else to apologize," he admits, his brows curling up, troubled at it.
"Do you want to apologize? Then, help her get rid of the duel energy in her body!"
"You don't mean-?" he flinches. "I can't… I would rather not do any summoning like this…"
"Who's talking about summoning? There are many other ways to do it if you have a contract," a drop of sweat rolls down her face, her eyes squinting at the prospect of revealing it, resorting to a simpler explanation. "Just give her some old gems to recharge, okay? I'll come everyday for check-ups. But I'm not a specialist, Zane. Catalysts' bodies work differently than ours, maybe you ought to find someone who understands more about it than me."
"Right."
"Now, what about you, Mr. Truesdale? Are you still having that issue we talked about?"
"I'm fine," he replies uninterested.
Opening her small medkit, she takes out a needle. "Okay, you convinced me. Let's take a blood sample from you too."
"What?! Why? You've treated my wounds!"
"Don't think I forgot what the results of your last tests were, boy, and gems don't break that easily if you input enough duel energy. Let's see if you're as healthy as you pretend to be because I think your problem wasn't the lack of gems."
He folds his sleeves up to the forearm, letting out an impatient huff, turning his face away when she takes a small vial of his blood, slapping a blue plaster on his wound.
"Now, I'm off. Try to not get into trouble in the meantime."
"I won't-"
She rolls her eyes, spinning halfway to him, her voice becoming louder. "You say this every time! Stick to your word for once!"
Accompanying her to the exit, he waves his hand after she's in the elevator, sending her off. When he finally shuts the door, a heavy sight comes out of his lips. The cuts on his abdomen and back ache, but what bothers him the most is…
He stops by the table in the living room, Rie's PDA is there, did she leave it here before adventuring outside? How did she even manage to stalk him to that building? It's a mystery.
On another note, had Rie not been there, he would be screwed, no excuses. His eagerness took the best of him, he needs to recollect himself. The rebels can't be contacted, the state of martial law is making it nearly impossible to leave the capital, they don't know how long it will take for it to be lifted and now that Rie was seen by all sorts of people in the underground, not to mention the bounty hunters gunning for his head. They're walking on a tightrope here.
Amidst this hurricane of considerations, there he is, in front of his room. An hesitating hand at the doorknob, she might hate him for what he did, nonetheless, he has to face it. His courage gathering as he opens the path.
She's awake, sitting at the bed, dressed in a cottony sleeping gown, different clothes than what he remembers, probably the work of nurse Fontaine. There are a few medicines tossed on the black bed sheets.
"Hey," he sits at the edge, putting the PDA on her reach. "How do you feel?"
Her long lashes slowly batter, unresponsive, hazy eyes staring idly at her lap, her face is still quite flushed too, is she still intoxicated? Or is she just ignoring him?
That overflowing power coming from her in the pit, it was extraordinary, in a way he could never have experienced it with just plain jewels. He didn't even need a drop of his own duel energy nor did he feel tired after summoning that monstrous creature, he used the energy of others stored in her, a dark-summon.
A catalyst's power really eases the burden on the summoner, a lesser man could be tempted by it. Is this how those Imperial soldiers or Mad Dog felt? Is he even any different from them after last night?
"Rie, I know what I did was unforgivable, but it wasn't my intention to compel that contract, I-"
The soft typing sound compels him to stop as she weaves a message, at last she looks into his face, a blank expression, or perhaps, she was too worn out to display anything else.
"I know. Miss Fonda told me everything."
"She did?" he almost stutters in surprise.
"You did that to save us both. I'd be dead if you didn't do that and so would you."
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he grumbles some internal complaints at the older woman. This is embarrassing, what else did Fontaine spill to her? Now he's more worried. "I'm not mad at you. I went there on my own two legs."
"Is that so?"
His gaze drifts off from hers, there was a bit of a disconcerted rue in his tone. He was clearly disappointed in himself. Rather than elaborating, he takes a dark pouch from his pocket, handing it to her, it's the size of his whole hand, she's amused at how heavy it is.
"Those are some old gems of mine, they're all depleted. Miss Fontaine said you can put the duel energy you assimilated into those as part of your recovery, like this you'll feel better and it would also help me."
She curiously undoes the rope around the bag, it's filled to the brim with old, grey gemstones, is this where he puts the ones that survive his destructive style of summoning?
"You," his orbs sharpen, clenching the blankets on his grip. "How did you even follow me to the underground and why did you do that?"
"I'm a pro in sneaking around."
"That's nothing to brag about and I was careless."
"It worked out."
"Rie, you could've died there!"
"Tell that to yourself first," she rebukes undaunted.
"That is different," his arm comes across her lap, snaring it, leaning on in a berating manner.
"How?"
"I'm used to it and I was ready to take risks, but you… You should've been safe here."
"What if I want to fight? With you and everyone else."
There's a pause as he gasps in shock. "Out of question, Rie!"
"Why?"
"You'll get hurt. Wouldn't you prefer leading a more quiet, uneventful life?"
"I'm tired of always running away. I want to stand in for myself too."
"Why are you so unyielding about this?"
For the sake of the Lord, has he ever met a more obstinate lady? He started a discussion he was fated to lose by her one-sided decision. She hammers the last nail in the coffin:
"People should help each other during harsh times."
Zane is taken aback. This is the exact same sentence he told her back when he delivered her PDA. Has she been holding onto his words this whole time? And she cheekily uses it as an argument against him.
"Why in the world are you saying this now…?" he sighs, defeated.
"You're always overexerting yourself, never stopping, trying to do everything alone, but nobody can do everything on their own, Zane. You're no exception."
Stunned, it takes a few seconds for him to recompose. "So what? That doesn't mean you have to do it too."
"You're killing yourself."
"That's my problem, not yours."
Pursing her lips slightly, as if hurt by those words, she shoves another sentence almost into his face with the screen of her device:
"I didn't want you to die."
Her eyes flicker at his reflection, tears she can't control trickling down, as her sight blurs, different memories from her past fall into each tear dropping. The village, the people, the destruction, all reflected in that one person she sees. He knows that feeling dwelling in her, loss. Even after what he's done to her?
If you look at me with such eyes…
The most unbearable throb strikes his chest, fulminating his veins as the scenes from the earlier half of the night flash in his mind. She did all that, for him? So much she'd have died in his place if it came to it? To protect him for the second time. This dedication isn't something he's seen often. It was pretentious to think he was the only one who fought for other people's wellbeing.
That Zane whose face was furrowed all over suddenly looked as if he could melt into tears too, his green orbs faltering, his impassive façade crumbling apart as he looked into her eyes who gazed at him so lovingly.
Telling me those things, I…
His heartbeats clutter, he wanted to cripple those feelings, but he couldn't. His hand reaches out to her face, swiping her tears away.
"Rie, I'm the same. I don't want you to die."
It was but an excuse to touch her smooth skin, he couldn't help but indulge that yearning of his. Brushing a strand of pink behind her ear, that hand running through her hair, plying over his fingers as he pulls her nape close, mantling her in an embrace, the bridge of his nose grazing on her neck.
I won't be able to let you go…
"Thank you for saving me again."
Closing his eyes, he etches every detail of her shape into his mind as he squeezes her tightly. Even if she doesn't say a single sentence, he understands her feelings very well and he will cherish it with his whole heart, as a man.
His tone is lower, blowing mildly on her ears almost in a whisper. "But please, don't spook me like that."
Her hands correspond to that hug, to the kindness of his arms that hold her as if she'd be something so precious he's afraid to break, her hands delineating his back, her face burying into his chest for a long, restful moment. But he can feel her unstable grip on his coat, she barely has strength to enclose her fingers, yet they cling to his back. Pulling apart worriedly, holding her shoulders in place, he continues:
"If you really want to help us, we can arrange that."
There's a faint, enthusiastic glimmer in her eyes as she listens to him, her lips splitting apart in reflex, words that will never come out. There's no time for second guessing, if she's here and wants to take on the ordeal, he shouldn't shun her efforts or he'd be no different from all the men that used her as a tool and told her how to live for the sake of their own wishes.
Ever since Bonaparte's mansion she's been trying to participate in this battle, when Makoto intruded the house too, he was the one that missed the hints, Rie should be free to make her own decisions.
"If you want to fight, I'll give you an edge. It's your choice after all, and not like we can send you to the rebels even if you wanted it. But there's a condition: don't be imprudent like before."
Taking her hand onto his, sensing the short twitch of her fingers at feather stokes of his warm lips on her delicate fingertips, he declares with a solemn aura around him bowing slightly:
"Rie, for as long as you stay by my side, I promise I won't let any harm come upon you."
It was brazen of him to make this vow right after they almost died, but his speech was so confident it carried a bewitching charm in it, her cheeks prickle, redder than before, her fingers unwittingly wrapping around his hand.
"Your help will be welcomed."
After laying her hand gently onto her lap, he stands up, bending onwards, planting a peck atop her head, startling her.
"But focus on getting better first."
He draws the line after noticing her body is swaying right and left subtly. In a resigned tone, she nods shyly, lying sideways on the bed, her blue orbs following his movements foggily.
As he pulls the blankets over her figure, leaving the pouch with gems near her hand, she grabs one of the jewels, clutching it between her hands, her eyelids heavily closing, fast asleep. How tired must she have been?
Before leaving the room, his gaze runs back at her a last time, reminded of Shroud's bitter words.
"You're a master at destroying everything you touch with your talent!"
That's not far off with what he's been doing to himself. Plopping onto the couch, he lets out a snort, both his hands covering his head, in shame of himself for being so arrogant. He's nothing special, everyone has people they hold dear and everyone fights their own way.
Although inexperienced, Rie overcame adversity with an adamant will in the underground. Those words she conveyed so affectionately without an audible voice, Syrus, Aster, Alexis, everyone else told this to him too, in different ways, many times. But which alternative does he have?
What the heck am I doing…?
He doesn't want to drag even more people into the mud with him now. He doesn't, but Rie's tenderness made his heart flutter in happiness and he also doesn't want to relinquish that.
That aside, there are other unending problems. Shroud mentioned the syndicate, he'll have to prepare to meet them soon. There's also his blunder during the last duel, his monsters are powerful enough, but his body is currently unable to handle higher summons. If he wants to go beyond, he'll need a new power, one that can't be hindered by anything, not even his lack of duel energy.
At the broker's office,
6 AM
Aster Phoenix sits at the guest's chair in Syrus' office. The blue-haired man has a stern, concerned wrinkle between his brows as the guest asks in a surly mood:
"So, what is so important that I had to come here personally? Did you find more about the Fujiwara family?"
"No. It's about the Ancients. I've got some info on it from a… reliable source."
"What? Last I asked you had nothing!"
"I know," he pushes his glasses up. "I had to sort out some things with Jaden before telling you this. Listen carefully, this will be a long talk…"
He folds his legs, hearing out all that transpired in this very same office some time ago, about Neos, the Light and Darkness, his attention shackled on Syrus, until the tale is finished. A few minutes of silence permeate the room while gathering his thoughts before he dares speaking again.
"You've said… This 'Light' has bathed Neos… And that it can do it to any duel monster?"
His blue orbs squint resentfully, burning from inside, the shadow of a bat-alike monster coming to his conscience and the smirk of a man whose glasses shine ominously. A distant memory of a man holding his small hand as they walked through the arc of trees, twilights of leaves on their faces as he smiled happily at the man.
Syrus interrupts his daydreaming. "Yes, but that's not the actual problem. If it wasn't trying to injure humans, it wouldn't be so bad, like I've told you, Aqua Dolphin helped Jay before and he was bestowed powers by an Ancient."
"Can it also influence people?"
"Yes. Ancients have been known for having chosen ones, at least, that's what the general lore indicates. Lady Kisara is an example of it, she's unmatched when it's about summoning dragons."
"Does that apply to influencing their actions?"
"It's possible. But if you ask me, lady Kisara was a sane sounding person, so are the 'Signers' from Satellite."
"Why didn't you tell me this immediately?" his fists ball up, indignant. "You know time is of essence."
Aster's harsh words harbor an underlying grudge, not against Syrus, but on his unsolved matters. If what he was told is true, then Sartorius as well as that man could have been warped by it. Is there anything they can do about it?
"I'm really sorry, but first of all we wanted to start having Jaden search for other Neo-spacians with Aqua Dolphin, they'll chase Neos. Regarding what to do, I intend to spread this to everyone from our group and to the rebels, we'll need as many working hands as we can."
"No, I'm sorry too," he calms himself down by taking a long breath. "I understand that you have many matters to take care of and that this type of info isn't easy to repass."
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself."
"Does anyone else know?"
"Not yet, but I'll tell my brother today when I drop by his place."
"Is he even awake at this time?" he checks on his wristwatch, raising a brow in doubt. "And did something happen for you to be going there?"
"Zane overdid it again."
Syrus' eyes droop in disapproval, unamused, with a few clicks, he sends a video over to Aster, who checks it on his phone, grimacing at the sight.
"I kinda saw this coming when he showed up talking about catalysts," he quips. "Is this circulating over the whole net?"
"Only in the underground," he shrugs off. "I'll wake him up when I go, plus it's his birthday."
"Oh, yeah, it's already November first. Hm… I'll think of a gift later, and send my regards to him."
"Sure. What about you, Aster? What will you do? I couldn't tell you much, but this comes to show how little we know about Ancients."
"I want you to keep digging about the Fujiwara family, I'll also do my own research," he stands up, bowing politely. "Thanks for your help, Syrus and good luck on your work."
Syrus leans on his chair after the summoner leaves, looking up to the ceiling, his thoughts shifting between all the best ways to settle this royal mess.
At a high skyscraper,
Zane's head hangs over the back of the couch, an arm blanketing his eyes from the outside brightness. The door of his apartment opens, disrupting the silence with a hushed sound. Only his brother has the spare keycard, thus he can't bother to check.
Syrus steps in, looking around, blinking amusedly, checking the time. "Did you just arrive from the underground?"
"Hm-mhm," he denies in a mumbling language.
"Could you not sleep?"
Syrus folds his sleeves, going to the kitchen, washing his hands and taking two mugs from the cupboard, Zane's signature mug and another one with a Kiteroid printed into it. He turns on the coffee machine.
"Hm-mhm," he mutters, bothered by the inquiry.
"Did you have nightmares again?"
"No," he finally pronounces a word, a coarse voice.
"I thought you'd be cloistered in your room."
There's no answer. As the coffee boils noisily, the young man decides to check it by himself, walking all the way to the corridor, opening the door, a feeble awe in his expression seeing a girl sleeping there, closing the door gingerly to not wake her up.
"What about your windows? Have you gotten someone to fix it yet?" he asks, pouring the coffee into mugs, sliding his brother's one towards him, sitting across from him.
"Mhm," there's a meek nod along with his lazy response.
"You blasted open the ceiling of that underground building," he says aloof, as if that's just another day in his life.
Zane's head immediately lifts, sitting upright, scowling. "How did you know?"
"How would I not know?"
He sways his head, taking his tablet from the briefcase he carried, pressing a few times on his screen, he turns it around, pushing it on the center table, his brother stopping the gliding motion with a skillful catch, clicking to see the video as his younger sibling sips coffee quietly.
[This isn't your playground!] hearing his own voice is odd, even more as he sees the footage. [You and the Shadow Riders… Get the hell out of my damn yard!]
An ear-bursting rumble happens right after his decree, the video buzzing and becoming nothing but static after the panels presumably exploded along with the ceiling.
"Don't tell me they're replaying this everywhere," his face twists, a tad abashed he'd been recorded like that, handing back the tablet.
"It's private to underground members only," Syrus takes the device back, drinking more coffee. "Zane, you not only exaggerated by destroying a whole building, showing off a catalyst in front of so many people, but you also declared war on the Shadow Riders. Opinions on you were divided, many big shots thought you're too much of a wild variant, a rampant king but most wealthy figures liked your performance, so much they paid for the repairs and bribed the media to hide it. Also, that member of the SRs escaped, but I hear some of the listeners were interested in her proposal of joining them."
"That was… An accident."
"You are the only 'accident' here," he retorts, referring to his birth circumstances.
"And you are the second."
"I know your routine is rough," he sighs, ending their quarrelling. "Miss Fontaine sent me here to make sure you're getting enough sleep."
"I'm not tired."
That wasn't a lie, unlike many other times, Zane's didn't have the salient bags under his eyes or the seemingly exhausted semblance, but he wasn't bragging about it.
"Why did you come here today, Sy?"
"For a bunch of reasons."
He takes out a small rectangular case from his case, stretching his arm all the way to the other side of the table to place it there, taking another small, square box, opening it, revealing a cake. A plain, whipped cream cake with a dark-chocolate sheet with a "Happy Birthday" written on it, a few strawberries as topping.
"Happy birthday, Zane."
His brother takes a second to react, as if still lost in thought, but soon opens the case, there's a dark sponge with holes on which six gems are supported. Right, he's 21 now.
"I wish you'd given me this earlier," he blurts out in dismay.
"Miss Fontaine told me what happened," his gaze diverts to the corridor, then back at Zane. "While this could have been prevented, you did what you could at the time, don't mull over it."
It was an attempt to comfort him, although genuine, he still didn't feel relieved by it. Syrus knows how upset he was at the whole situation, at himself for allowing this. Covering his forehead with a hand, he sighs in distraught.
"Was there really no other choice, Zane?"
"No…"
"How is she?"
"She almost died. I had to…" he swallows dryly, looking at his own hands, Rie's image flashing onto his mind. "Her eyes seemed so pained. I've never seen so much duel energy accumulated in a place before, I could see her body collapsing. I… How can the Empire turn people into this and save face in front of the population? I feel like death isn't enough to make them pay for everything, Sy…"
Syrus' sorrowed gaze is cast down briefly, before he musters more words. "She'll be fine, right?"
"Yeah, she will."
"Was she mad at you for…?"
"... No. She said she followed me there on her own. And that she wanted to fight."
"I see," there's a small, but disheartened pause as he speaks." I couldn't contact the rebels yet and-"
"Forget it."
"What? You wanted me to ask them to get Rie out-"
"She's not going anywhere!" he shouts in a low, crude tone as he massages his temples. "Not while this martial law is enforced. The communications are just a mess, so you can stop wasting your time on it. I'll care for her no matter what, she said she wanted to fight, fine! She can fight! But she's not going anywhere until we're sure it'll work."
"You don't mean you'll use her as-"
"No, heck, no! But there has to be something she can do. Anything, really. I just-" he mutters complaints to himself, gesturing exasperated. "I won't let the Empire or anyone get her back into slavery or misery."
Zane speaks as if the only one hurt was the catalyst, but he suffered too. There's no way his brother would be fine, driven to a dead end like that. His brows coil up in pity.
"Zane…"
"You didn't come to hear me vent out."
Syrus wanted to say he'd hear his brother as many times as needed if it made him a little less distressed, but held back. It was the same after the war, Zane was consumed by a choleric anguish, yet he would not share a single thought on what he has gone through, wandering into the North to cope with it alone. The best he can do is...
"Alright. We'll find some work for her too when she feels better."
Zane doesn't reply to that, a tad bewildered at his sibling's confidence and calmness. Gorging down some hot coffee, he states, dispelling the tension, transitioning to other topic:
"Shroud told me the big wigs from the underworld took an interest in me after that duel."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I'll meet them, of course. But that isn't the only reason you came here, is it?"
"I've found some clues about the bounty hunt on you. Whoever did it tried to erase all the evidence, but I caught onto it. Even Inotsume didn't leak anything after being interrogated by the police, so they labelled it as 'revenge' due to a past grudge with you. I'm not sure if they really believe that or if whoever hired Makoto is a high political figure."
"Bonaparte did have many imperial buddies," he spits in disgust.
"That's not the main plot twist, though," he entwines his fingers, frowning. "There are two different sources with bounties on your head."
"Two? More than one person wants me dead? I mean, that's normal, still…"
"Not dead. The strangest of it all is: both of the people who put bounties on you want you alive. I don't know who they are yet, but this is giving me the creeps, Zane."
"Yeah, me too," his gaze trails off, wondering who it could be.
"Also, I left this for last, but not as the least important. I know you're still shaken from last night, and I wish I didn't need to put more weight on your back, but… This is urgent too."
"Stop the suspense and say it already."
"It's about Ancients."
His breath is stuck for a moment, exhaling heavily, his brows furrow slowly. What do the Ancients have to do with anything? He doesn't like where this is going.
In a northern snowfield,
A blizzard stirs clouds of frost, white tornadoes howling. The ex-slaves hide inside the ruined houses. Outside, Nightshroud watches the surroundings, the cold does not bother him even though his garments aren't appropriate for the occasion.
The track of his footprints is covered by the snow very fast. A shiver runs down his spine, his chest pulsating, wrinkling his shirt between his fingers, bending over due to the pain.
His gaze wanders aimlessly, under the stoic mask of a dragon, he stands proud, stopping by the forest of scarce pine trees. A shadow flashes behind him, he whirls around, his cloak flapping at the wind, his hand stretched towards the newcomer. A dull thud, muffled by the snow.
It's a small pouch, sunk into the ground. He lifts the object using uncanny powers, bringing it to his hand with the swing of a finger, calling out:
"Cleah."
At the speedy flow of a dashing snowflake, the young assassin comes out of her hideout. He checks the contents of the bag, unfazed by her presence, they're gems from the criminals he killed and from the soldiers too, he grabs one.
"Why did you follow me here?" the purple color of the amethyst he clutches vanishes in an instant.
"This will supply you power."
"You're disobeying orders from the organization."
"I don't care about the Shadow Riders, I told you I'd help you fix your problems."
Her voice never goes a tune lower or higher, but underneath the emotionless orbs, he can see it. A trepidation. He expected Cleah to be obedient, but even assassins swear loyalty to a master. To think that child he took under his wing a few years ago would've grown to make her own decisions like a person, not as a doll, defying her phony rulers.
"What do you believe you'll accomplish by coming here?"
"I'll help you with the recruitment and be your bodyguard as usual," she steps closer. "They've sent you alone because they're scheming something."
"I don't require your aid."
"Why didn't you kill the slaves that refused to join?"
So she's been tailing him from the start. There's no surprise. "You've learned well how to hide your presence, Cleah."
"You've rusted, Darkness."
"There was no need to kill," his lips unglue slightly, but seal again, unwilling to add more, for she would not understand his reasons.
"That was also against the regulations of the organization."
"We're only interested in the ones who can join," flicking his cloak, he makes his way to the ruins in which the new recruits await. "It doesn't matter what happens to those who don't."
"Don't worry," she assures, tagging along. "If it comes to the worst, we can just defect, we've gotten plenty of intel from them."
"We haven't even scratched the surface of the barrel. We're yet to find out how to open those 'gates'. Steel yourself, they will send someone after us."
"If they do. I'll get rid of them."
"You've but dabbled on the extent of your powers."
"I learn fast."
"Compared to me, you're still an infant. Pride comes before the fall, Cleah."
There are seconds of utter silence before she asks the next query. "Will you be fine?"
His feet halt at once, turning around halfway to look at her, nothing affected him. He knows that despite the outer callousness, Cleah is a child inside, chasing after the shadow of her lost brother.
"Yes," a dry answer, to not spur ill emotions.
As soon as he resumes his walking, her orbs narrow with a hint of annoyance, she can see the faint leftover lines of his duel energy everywhere around her coming directly from him.
"Liar."
Her strong, resolute tone raises his awareness. In a blink of an eye, she's slitting his chest with a dagger, he barely moves back, unable to fully avoid it, a line of blood gushing out, opening a cut on his shirt. The fact his reflexes didn't work properly tells how bad his state is.
With a shake of hand, she splatters the dripping blood on the ground, her unperceivable frown turning into astonishment, looking at the opening she made.
There's a gem imbued into his chest, an oval light-blue tourmaline with polished borders, its layers carefully carved, but from the side of it to the middle, there's a visible crack spreading like a root. Dark-red energy flows out of it, he covers the jewel with a hand.
His gem…
Cleah totters a few steps back, her foot slipping on the ice, falling backwards, her bottom fluffed by the freezing snow, eyes wide open, dread slithering inside her, causing an inner shudder.
It's ruptured.
A wavy mass of darkness swirls around his chest, splashing away into the air, his clothes and wound repaired. A dire shadow cast over his eyes as he threads closer to her, looking from above, a haughty, reproving tone:
"You shouldn't have done this, Cleah."