-Chapter Thirteen-
The cold, sinking feeling took hold once more, and I stared into the shadows. My heart thundered inside of my ribs, and now the figment of my brother had disappeared. It would have been easier to focus if I thought that that he watched over me. Being here with these creatures took me back to my time in Aurora, where I'd been blinded, stranded, and nearly killed . All of my courage and heroism were stripped away, now. I straightened my back, trying to exude some semblance of composure, and I managed to ask, "What do you want of me?"
"Want of you?" asked the shadow in the center. A soft wisp of a laugh left it, and the thing glanced at its two companions. "We have summoned you here to offer you a deal—one that you would be wise to consider."
My grip on the hilt of my sword tightened, and I shook my head. "There is nothing you can offer that I would accept."
"Oh? Is that so?" The shadow sounded amused. It slid across the space between us to appear mere inches from me.
I jumped backward, my heart thundering in fright. My sword clattered to the ground, and my Will activated, forming a ball of electricity in my hand. My nerves were ragged from exhaustion, but I couldn't let my guard down. I had no idea what these creatures' true intentions were.
"That will not be necessary. Your magic is useless here . You will listen to what we have to offer, and you will accept. There is no other option."
Suddenly Logan's cries of agony filled the cavernous room. His shadowy, incorporeal form appeared at my side, bound by thick cords of inky blackness. He fell silent and sagged forward, his body twitching and writhing with pain.
My heart jumped into my throat, and every instinct told me to run to his side, to take him into my arms. He was suffering. I took a step in his direction, but the shadow blocked my path. I focused my eyes on the shadowy figure.
"Your brother's suffering will be eternal," The shadow threatened as it walked a circle around me. I could feel its bright red eyes penetrating me. It moved with the fluidity of a snake, but a dark, vicious aura emanated from it. It was unsettling in every sense of the word. "But what if I told you that there was something you could do to ease his agony?"
I stared long and hard at the specter of Logan. His pale face was tight with silent misery. My stomach wrenched, and I looked away again. What could these things possibly do to end his suffering, and at what cost?
"Speechless, are you?" The shadow questioned. "That is understandable, so I will continue our proposal. It could prove to be mutually beneficial." It lay its dark hand on me, and I felt it as I would any person's. That caught me off guard. It was frigid and scalding all at once, but its fingers were sharp and skeletal. I wanted to tear away from its touch, but I was frozen in place.
"You have so much darkness inside of you already," it said. "It would be but a small sacrifice to do what must be done."
"What must be done?" I breathed, pondering the meaning of the creature's words.
"We know of your fears, your desires, your darkest fantasies," it chuckled, its claw-like hand still clutched tightly to my shoulder, anchoring itself to me, cutting into my flesh "We already know what your answer will be, so this is what you will do."
I could almost feel it the shadow's influence slipping inside of me, reading me, exploiting my weakness and making me doubt. My knees trembled beneath me, and my hands balled into anxious fists at my sides.
"You will name a person with a dark, corrupted soul," it demanded. "This will be the first of many souls with which you will supply us ."
"Wh-What?" I tripped over my words. They expected me to sacrifice souls? A budding terror planted itself in my stomach, but I couldn't bring myself to speak anymore.
"You are well versed in passing judgment on the wicked, are you not?" The shadow questioned. "Timothy Goulding, your brother, Saker...the list could go on, but you know your deeds, Your Majesty."
"Why would I do such a thing?" I asked, my voice cracking. "I-"
It leaned in close, and for a moment, I thought I could feel its piercing, icy breath on my skin. "We can give you that which you desire above all else." It turned me to look at the writhing, agonized form of Logan. It leaned over my shoulder, its mouth at my ear once more. "He would live once more, Your Majesty."
My breath left me, and I could not tear my gaze away from the figment of my brother. Hot tears stung the corners of my eyes, and my windpipe constricted. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure.
"All you need to do is say yes," It whispered softly. "Say yes, then name someone whose soul is tainted. Perhaps someone that the world would be better off without. Its hands tightened on me. "We would thrive with such corruption to sustain us. Annually, you will bring us a soul until we are sated. You will not age or die under our...protection, so long as you continue your task."
"Why me?" I questioned softly. The thought of this commitment sent another wave of nausea through me. Was it because of my Heroic blood? Was it because of my connection to Reaver? I did not know the extent of his dealings with these creatures, but somehow I knew that it was not a pleasant partnership.
"Because you have so much more to offer than anyone else," It whispered into my ear. "You have no idea of the potential which you have yet to unlock. You could accomplish a great deal with such an extended life, you must realize. What do you say? You want your brother to live again, do you not?"
I exhaled shakily, "I do."
"Then give us your answer."
The tears spilled down my cheeks, and I found my head nodding before I could properly think. I opened my mouth and all that came was a strangled whisper. "Yes." My voice sounded so small as it echoed around the chamber, that I could hardly believe I'd spoken at all.
"Good." The shadow sounded pleased. It did not release me, but it spun me around to face it. Its eyes burned like great, scarlet flames, but I couldn't look away. "Now, who would you give to us? Someone who has wronged you, perhaps? Someone in whom you placed your trust? Someone who betrayed that trust?"
I pulled in a shaky breath, but my mouth was too dry to speak. I pressed my lips together tightly.
"Come, Your Majesty. Your brother suffers every second that you hesitate."
Logan's voice had suddenly been restored, and the sounds of his screams echoed off of the cavernous walls. I tried to crane my neck to look to him, but the shadow figure captured my chin in its thin, sharp fingers.
"We know of the heartbreak you have suffered," it said almost sympathetically. "Would it not benefit you to be rid of the one most responsible?"
"Okay," I breathed hastily. "Take her. Take Constance Green." As soon as the words were out, my stomach curled into a knot of regret.
"Interesting choice, but...acceptable nonetheless," The shadow murmured its voice full of enjoyment. "It is done."
Logan's cries faded away, and were replaced by the alarmed shout of a woman. The shadow released me, and I was free to whip around and see Constance, obviously shaken, trying to take in her strange new surroundings. She stumbled, very disoriented, but when she found me, she hurried to my side.
"Your Majesty!" she cried, the fear apparent in her trembling voice. She grabbed me for support, and her wide, whiskey-colored eyes darted about the place. "What is this place? Why have we been brought here?!" She tightened her grip on me.
Her touch made me physically ill. Those filthy hands had been all over my husband. I had trusted her with so much in the past, and she had betrayed that trust for her own selfish needs. I seized each of her wrists, wrenching her off of me, and I shoved her away. My eyes narrowed, and the words tore out of me, "How dare you touch me after you put your hands all over my husband, you whore?"
"I-I'm sorry!" She wept.
The two passive shadows had leapt across the chasm in the middle of the room, and then all three began closing in on her.
"No! I'M SORRY! PLEASE!" She shrieked, her hands moving to cover her face. She screamed wordlessly, but then suddenly, as the shadows closed in, her cries abruptly ended. When the shadows disappeared, returning to their place on their thrones, she was gone. All that remained was a faint black residue marking the place where she once stood.
I hunched over, trying to pull in a shaky breath of air. I thought for sure I would be sick, but I held back the bile. My stomach calmed, and after a few moments, I was able to straighten back up. My body quaked with anxiety, but I was able to bring myself to look at the shadows once more.
"It is done. Where is he? Where is Logan?"
"Where did you leave him, Your Majesty?" The shadow asked, laughter lacing its voice.
After I appeared in the courtyard of Bowerstone castle, I broke out into a run . The numerous servants and attendants looked bewildered at my sudden appearance. Their faces and voices were a blur, and I shoved one of them roughly out of my way as I entered the castle.
Logan was alive. Alive, but left in the crypts—in his coffin.
My tired muscles pumped as I skidded across the hallways. My heart was pounding in my head, and the panic spread through my limbs. I needed to get there as quickly as I could. I needed to spare my brother the terror of being closed in his own tomb.
People were calling after me, but I continued to ignore them as I turned a hard right to make my way through the kitchens. The workers in the kitchen were wiser and avoided my path, so when I rushed out into the garden, I was unhindered.
In the dark, the family crypt looked eerie and grim. The last time I had entered it on a night like this, I had been running away from Logan. Now, I was running to him. My legs carried me swiftly down the stairs, jumping gracefully off of the last few.
Pushing the thick, iron doors open, I thrust myself into the crypt. They closed behind me with a loud, metallic ringing. The flimsy lock of the doors clicked into place with ease, and I looked around the crypt. I had no idea what sort of state my brother would be in. The lock served as protection for him, and protection for those outside.
All was quiet and empty... and dark. I'd had my fill of darkness for the day; perhaps my life. I used my Will to light a torch in the corner before grabbing it. I held it up, and I stepped toward the pedestal. Three great, stone coffins lay spread across the space. Logan's tomb lay on the far side of Father's. The lid had been pushed away, and it had fallen to the ground, now in pieces.
Panic settled into my gut, and I squinted, trying to see through the darkness of the crypt. My skin crawled as a tingle of fear ran through me.
Why is it so quiet?
"Logan?" I asked gently, raising my torch.
The light wasn't sufficient to see clearly. My legs trembled beneath me as I walked toward Logan's empty tomb. He could not have gotten very far in such a short amount of time. My heart pounded anxiously and my stomach continued to twist into knots.
"Br-brother?" The fear had bled out into my voice.
From the opposite corner of the crypt, by our mother's tomb, I heard a soft moan accompanied by shallow, shaking breaths. I hurried around, avoiding the broken pieces of marble that littered the floor. "Logan, can you hear me? It's Keira."
He was faced away from me, leaned against the wall, his hands clutching at the stone. He was a wisp of his former self—drawn and thin. His clothes were mere scraps, and his hair was long and disheveled, but from what I could see, the figure bore a great resemblance to my brother Another gurgling sound of pain escaped him.
"Logan, is that you?"
He turned slowly, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach before a soft outcry of terror wrenched from me. The shadows were inside of him, leaking at every possible exit. They spilled from his mouth and even the unhealed gunshot wounds in his chest and stomach. I was reminded of Walter when The Crawler had taken over his body. I remembered the pain that had wracked me when I had been possessed by it in the desert. I had to cover my mouth to hold in a mournful sob of trepidation.
What have I done to him?
His legs were clumsy as he shuffled toward me, but his dark, clouded eyes found mine. For a moment, I wanted to back away or run, but I was frozen. He stumbled forward, and suddenly something in my changed. I discarded the torch, snuffing its light, and I sped to catch him. His hands closed tightly around my arms, and he leaned his face into the hollow of my throat. His breathing was ragged and pained, and I could feel the tightness building in my chest. He groaned again, and it was then that I realized that he was trying to speak.
"Logan...I-" My eyes widened with bewilderment. I truly did not know what to say or how to explain myself. I had been foolish to accept the deal. They had brought Logan back, but he was only a hollow shell of a man now. They had deceived me…and Logan was paying the steep price.
Foolish...so foolish...
Another attempt to speak came out as a grunt as he clutched tightly to me. His legs gave away beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground, a cry of obvious pain tearing from his throat.
The ache in my heart was nearly crippling as I followed him down and tilted him back across my lap. His eyes were black and blind, but they searched for me, regardless. Tears rolled down my cheeks unbidden, and I cupped his white, drawn face. "Oh, gods..."
His mouth opened, trying to form words with trembling, pale lips, but nothing more than a soft gurgle came. His eyelids shut tightly, and black, inky tears drifted down his face. The pain was written all over his face, and I could not bear to see it.
"I am so, so sorry." I wished I could have stopped weeping, for his sake, but I could not. I trembled, clutching him tightly against me.
"Don't..." He finally managed to say, his voice edged in agony. He reached up, and I took his hand tightly in mine, laying his palm against my cheek. His hand was so cold against my feverish skin. His raspy voice managed to speak again. "Don't cry..."
I tried to pull in a calming breath. Even through his pain, he thought of me, and that only cut me deeper. His voice was so weak, but it was still him. I could not believe he was trying to comfort me when I had committed this atrocious crime against him. I had to explain. I couldn't let him think that I wanted to hurt him. "I wanted you with me so badly...I did not think..." My words dissolved into more whimpers of sorrow. "I thought it would be alright..."
How could I have been so naïve?
His hand slipped from mine, and his arm dropped limply to his side. He moaned with pain at the sudden movement. His frail body writhed in my arms, contorting with the sheer torture of this dark existence.
He is in so much pain...and it's all my fault.
"End...this..." Logan murmured weakly. "Please."
I knew that ending his life would be a mercy, but an ache in my heart gave me pause. Though I had not pulled the trigger before, I had ordered his execution. Could I kill my brother again? I was more alone than ever. I needed him, but I knew that letting him remain would be the most selfish thing I could ever do. I gaped down at him for a few moments, wishing that I would see his face as it once had been, even frowning at me in disappointment, anything but this ghostly shell...
I deserve this pain...not him.
Even after everything he'd done in the past, I felt as if my crimes had now overshadowed them. Everything he had done, he'd done to protect Albion. This...this monstrosity, I had caused for my own selfish reasons.
"Please forgive me, brother...for everything."
I reached to my belt for my Dragonstomper, my hand trembling and I bit on my lip, trying to hold back more tears. My hands were unsteady, but I managed to press the barrel against the underside of his chin. I heard pounding at the doors and Reaver's voice muffled and angry, but I ignored it. I exhaled shakily.
"I love you, Logan," I whispered, closing my eyes. I pulled the hammer back; its metallic clicking echoed against the cold stone walls. Fresh, hot tears trailed down my face in droves, and he brought his hand to rest on top of my wrist, trembling as he squeezed me gently, reassuringly.
I have to be strong. I have to do this. I...
I forced myself to squeeze the trigger, and the gunshot echoed through the crypt. His body sagged backward in my arms, and I threw my pistol to the side. Slipping my arms tightly around him, I trembled with my gasping, sobbing breaths. I couldn't make noise. All of the air had been sucked from me.
I clutched onto him, but I could feel his form beginning to soften…to slip from my grasp. I opened my eyes to see that he was all shadow, now. The dark ooze that remained seeped everywhere, taking over the floor of the crypt, covering me. I heard a loud clinking noise, as if something heavy and metallic had hit the ground, but I couldn't see through my tears.
Still fighting for breath, I slumped forward, burying my face in my hands.
Gods, what have I done?
-Reaver-
I drummed my fingers impatiently on the arm of the plush wing back chair in my quarters. The nights had become rather boring since Keira had ambled off in a tantrum. I took supper alone, and even the company of Keira's lady-in-waiting started to feel exceedingly dull. I drew deeply from my glass of wine, and I glanced to the clock. It was barely after sun-down, and I found myself itching for a new day to begin.
How had I become swindled into domestication in such a short time? I exhaled. I'd given up a fair bit of my more unbridled habits for the sake of my new position, so I'd had to depend on my wife and others in the castle for company and attention. Keira's company had been more interesting than most others, and since she'd disappeared, a silence had fallen over Bowerstone Castle—as if its very soul had been sucked away.
I had taken joy in firing Hobson after I'd dismissed Constance. His jowls shook violently with his protest, but I remained resolute. Keira had been searching for a rational reason to strip him of his job since we'd been married, and frankly, so had I. The man grated my nerves with his groveling and sniveling. While I was used to such behavior, that man took it to a new extreme. I was glad to be rid of him.
Finishing off my wine, I rose from my chair. I'd had my fill of Constance as of late. To be perfectly honest, her charm had started wearing off when Keira came barging in a few evenings prior. The woman could have had at least a little respect for her Queen. Not to mention, her mouth could not possibly compare to the moist, skilled heat of Keira's. My frustration grew just thinking about it.
Without Keira, I'd been forced to turn to Murphy for conversation, if one could call such rambling conversation, and his stammer tried my patience constantly. With whom did she think she was dealing? One does not simply walk away from Reaver.
When she returns, a strict lesson must be given.
Though my creative mind still pondered the possibilities of what could be done, I had always been fairly good at improvisation.
I set my glass down, and I made my way toward the vanity. My hair was perfectly coiffed, as always, and my beauty mark—perfectly penciled in. There was nothing to be done to the flawlessness of my face, so I inspected myself for a moment longer, rubbing the dimple in my chin, then the angles of my jaw.
The bedroom door opened swiftly, and Murphy hurried in, red-faced and panting. His hair was disheveled, and his white breeches had stains of dirt and grass on them. He bowed, catching his breath as he did so.
"Why ever are you in such a state, Murphy?" I questioned, whirling around and putting my hands on my hips. I strode toward him. I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling as I looked him over again. He'd probably stumbled or fallen again. Why I kept him around, I did not know...Perhaps that was a lie. He'd proven to be useful in keeping me distracted during my long nights of frustration.
"M-m-m-m-m-m-aster R-r-r-r-r-reaver," he stammered. "I w-w-w-was on m-my way back from In-d-d-dustrial..."
"Yes?"
"I j-j-j-j-..." he paused, inhaling. "J-just."
"Yes?" I narrowed my eyes, losing patience very quickly. His stammering always got worse when he was agitated or nervous. Though, I did wonder what had him in such a tizzy.
He was growing red-faced in frustration with himself. "I just s-s-saw..."
My palm collided squarely with the back of his head, and he stumbled forward, but went silent.
"I just saw Her Majesty," He finally blurted clearly. "Th-the Queen h-has returned."
My eyes widened, and I grasped the fool by his collar. "Are you quite sure, Murphy? It was her?"
His head bobbed swiftly as he confirmed silently. "Sh-she pushed me down, s-so I followed her. Sh-she was running and s-s-seemed upset."
The nerve of that woman. How dare she be anywhere but with me upon her return? "Where is she now, Murphy?"
"She r-r-ran for the gardens," He said. "Th-the royal c-c-c-crypt."
What reason could she have for running to the crypt? I doubted that its occupants would be going anywhere anytime soon. The agitation was growing within me, and I moved Murphy to the side with a soft shove. "See to it that The Queen and I have a little privacy in the gardens. I highly doubt that this will be a very romantic reunion. I would hate the sully the façade of marital bliss that I've so delicately placed."
"Y-y-yes, Your Grace," He said, stooping down into a bow.
I swept past him, straightening the lapels of my coat as I made my way down the corridor. If she wanted to be upset with me, I could match her ire. For someone seemingly obsessed with duty and honor, she had no qualms with running away from both in a hurry. The last conversation we'd had caught me off guard, but I had days to prepare for this.
I moved with a crisp determination that let the servants know to move from my path, bowing as I passed. If I hadn't been so hell-bent on reaching Keira, I might have allowed myself time to bask in the power I exuded, but for now, I needed to reach the gardens.
"Your Grace," said a guard, sharply, as I shoved the double doors leading to the garden open. "The Queen-"
"You, along with your fellows are dismissed," I interrupted him, waving a hand. "I want this garden cleared."
"I...er..yes, Your Grace," The guard said with a stiff bow. He hurried off to gather up his mates, hissing commands.
I stormed across the gardens, taking each set of stairs with a little more speed. Finally, I eyed the crypt, glancing the monument up and down, then rolled my eyes. Sparrow had built the ghastly tomb when she first took the reins of the kingdom, much to my disgust. Why anyone would plan so elaborately for death was beyond me.
I approached the great iron doors, attempting to shove them open quickly, but they were bolted shut. I could hear the soft murmur of her voice, but the words were unclear. I pounded sharply on the metal. "Keira, you cannot hide in that tomb! I know you are in there!"
I paused for a few moments, and I heard her voice change. It was filled with sadness, and my conclusion was affirmed when she began to weep aloud. My knocking grew swifter and rang loudly through the gardens.
"This is ridiculous!" I knocked, tapping my foot as my impatience grew. If she wished to speak of the events of the past few days, I was more than open to, but locking herself in her parents' tomb did no one any good.
The gunshot startled me, sending my heart into my throat, where it seemed to swell and choke me. I knocked ferociously for a for a few moments, then pausing to listen. There was silence in the crypt, and I moved swiftly to drive my shoulder into the door. What had she done?
Pain cracked through my bone and muscle as I drew back to lay into the door once more. The lock used to secure it had obviously been flimsy, for the doors burst open, and I caught myself before stumbling inward. My hand moved automatically to grip at my injured shoulder, and I hissed softly with the pain. It would heal soon enough, but the feeling was unpleasant.
Keira was hunched over in a puddle of black, sticky muck, her Dragonstomper discarded carelessly to the side. I froze with panic, waiting to see any signs of life. She was breathing and sobbing ever so quietly, and relief coursed through me. Her hands covered her face, and despite the commotion I'd created by breaking into the tomb, she didn't seem aware of my presence. I moved to grab her by the arm, intent on hoisting her to her feet to confront her face to face.
Suddenly, something glinted against the dull light in the tomb. I crouched to lift the circular pendant from the foul smelling sludge in which my wife sat. I inspected the bauble , and a grim realization crashed over me. The seal was far more plain and dark than the one with which I'd been presented centuries ago, but I would never be able to mistake the feel of a Dark Seal in my hand. It was black with foreign, red words scrawled around the edge. What had she done to attain this seal, and what could she have hoped for in return? Gruesome memories that I preferred to keep locked away seeped through my carefully constructed barrier, and my chest tightened.
Suddenly, a curious anger bubbled up inside of me, and I grasped Keira firmly by the arm. I yanked her roughly toward me, and my eyes found hers. "What have you done, you foolish woman?" I hissed.
Her lips parted, but she was silent. Tears flowed generously down her soiled, red cheeks, and her eyes turned to find the floor before closing. She trembled slightly against me, and she slumped inward against my chest. Her limbs were loose with fatigue, and she slid down my body, threatening to fall to the ground. She heaved with violent sobs of woe, and I felt infinitely unsettled.
I wrapped an arm around her waist to support her weight, and I felt my anger growing. How could she assume that I would simply stand here and comfort her? Did she truly have me pegged so inaccurately? Rolling my eyes, I bent and swept my wife off of her feet. I knew that once we left the dank, moist smell of the crypt, I would be far more content. Perhaps I would get some sort of explanation from her.
As if she'd snapped to her senses, her body tensed, and she struggled against my grip. I threw her over my shoulder, carrying her up the stairs, and she pushed against me. I tightened my hold on her, not willing to let her slip away from me before she answered for her disobedience.
"Let me go, Reaver," She said, her weak anger showing its head through her tears and sadness "I have nothing to say to you right now."
I set her down on the grass, and I looked her over. She was filthy—smudged with mud, black muck, blood. "You left me, my dear," I told her, raising my brows. "I think I am entitled to a few questions."
"Entitled?" She asked, her cheeks reddening and her eyes flashing dangerously. "You have no idea what I've been through...What I've done..."
"I have some idea of what you may have been doing during your absence," I said, flicking the seal in her direction. "How was Wraithmarsh, my dear? I always find the weather there to be a little more forgiving this time of the year."
She caught the seal, her wide eyes inspecting it, and her tears fell anew. Shoving the thing into the pocket of her coat, her jaw clenched in anger, and she strode away.
I was not about to let her leave again that easily.
"Hmm, do I detect a pattern of behavior?" I quipped, acid lacing my tone. "Running away again, ma cherie?"
She whirled around as fast as she'd stormed off, and her fist struck me sharply in the face. Light exploded through my field of vision, and the coppery taste of my blood filled my mouth. I fought to draw in a breath, and I stumbled backward, clutching my aching—most likely fractured—jaw.
I spit the blood in her direction, and I winced at the movement of my face.
"You have no right to throw accusations at me after all you've done," She fumed, clearly livid now. Her body trembled, and the lines of her Will glowed scarlet, but she withheld the use of her magic. Her tears continued to stream down her face, but now they expressed her anger as well as sorrow.
As the pain in my jaw subsided, I straightened, and I offered her a bloodied grin. "You've had your little outburst for that misstep, my dear. I'd say we are almost even." Stepping toward her, my hand cupping her face. "Come, I am sure I will be able to diffuse your mood one way or another."
"Get your hands off of me!" She recoiled from my touch. "I cannot handle your lies. Not anymore."
"Lies?" I almost laughed. "You may need to refresh me on such a trivial subject. Of which lies do you speak, my dear?"
"I said no, Reaver. Just let me go." Her voice was terse and obviously meant business.
"Come now, don't be a tease, darling," I egged her on, withholding my laughter.
Her fist flew once more, but this time, my hand was swift enough to catch it before it collided with my chin. My fingers locked around her wrist, and our eyes met, burning into each other. The passion ignited an acute need within me, but I restrained myself. This was too much fun. I was, after all, a man that thrived on conflict. I would get the truth from her—one way or another. Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and a taunting grin spread across my lips. A rush of exhilaration flowed through me. She would have to be much faster than that.
A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! It is much appreciated! Follow/Fave if you haven't already, there's plenty more on its way.