IMPORTANT! THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING, ADDED DUE TO REQUEST. This story may or may not contain disturbing content that may severely affect some people. The purpose of this content is not to be controversial, but to be realistic to the world being portrayed. I hope anyone offended or hurt understands, and I hope this story can somehow bring you solace in the end. Thank you for your time.
Author's Note: Hello! So, a few updates. First, I redid and edited chapters 1-19, taking out the Author's Notes at the start of them. The only Author's note will now be the initial timeline and trigger warning in chapter one along with a note along with the latest chapter to keep you all informed.
So, onto some more stuff. First of all, this chapter is pretty short compared to some of the others, I know, but the reason it took so long was the housecleaning I did on the other chapters. That, and I also just started college. So yes, if any of you were wondering, I started this story when I was still in High School. Anyways, college has been fun but busy, meaning it really shook up my writing schedule. I'm starting to get a little more used to things now, but I'm still not going to give any timelines or anything. I'll do my best to write, but it mostly happens in random couple hour intervals when I have some random free time. For that reason, I'm mostly relying on a few wonderful volunteer editors I trust to go through my chapter when I complete it. They obviously are quite busy themselves, but they usually manage to get most of the obvious stuff. So if there are a few more errors than usual, I apologize, feel free to point them out, and just remember, it's all in the name of progress!
Fun fact: Chapter Twenty makes the total story 216,910 words by my count. The average young adult novel (which this technically classifies as) is around 80,000 words give or take. This means you've all read about two books and change by now! Woo! I'm thinking It probably wont go past 300,000. We're in the home stretch! I'm so excited!
Finally, thank you all once again for your wonderful reviews, comments, and private messages! I THRIVE off knowing how you guys feel/react and think about this story I have the pleasure of telling! So please, feel no fear to drop a quick comment or essay level review! I love it!
Anyways, I hope you all continue to enjoy reading this story as much as I am writing it!
Chapter Twenty
I'm breathing.
Air fills my lungs, making my chest rise and fall in a slow, gentle rhythm. My body feels heavy and sluggish, like I've been asleep for a long time. The only sound is my constant breathing, a soft lullaby that coaxes me to ignore everything around me. The more I try to focus, the more numbness I feel, filling my mind with a peaceful haziness. The serenity of the moment is intoxicating.
Not enough to make me forget, though. No, but what could be? What could possibly make me forget the pain? The betrayal? My stupidity?
My heart aches, and I feel tears pooling beneath my eyelids.
Why?
It's not the first time I've wondered. Why me? Why do I have to go through this pain? What's the point? Why is it me suffering when all I want to do is help others? Why?
I choke down a sob, a distant pain echoing in my parched throat. It draws me in, the pain, and I find myself focusing on it, honing my mind to get past the cloudiness covering my senses. As I do, I begin to make out sounds, distant at first, but they grow stronger the more I concentrate.
"...leave," a stern voice commands, one I am all too familiar with.
"Leave? After how she came in? I'm not going anywhere," I hear another voice snarl.
"Oh please. With the great Captain Fairfax here, just what sort of harm do you expect to befall her?" A new voice says scornfully, a biting edge of mockery and laughter in his words.
I force myself to open my eyes, pushing with all my strength. It leaves me breathless with effort. My vision flickers, threatening to stay shrouded in darkness, but I manage to push through, light painfully glaring into my eyes. My vision adapts, bringing images and shapes into reality.
I lay tucked into one of the beds in the bed rests against a wall to my left, and the wavy curtain to my right is drawn, separating me from the rest of the room. A simple, thin medical robe replaces my shredded and bloody clothes, soft enough that I barely feel it. I notice blurry figures standing in front of my bed, and I have to squint to make them out.
Seth stands, one fist clenched and the other gripped around the same bearded axe he uses in our League matches and duels. I had all but forgotten we were supposed to have the actual thing, mostly because I had brought my katana by luck and didn't have trouble recreating it in the Aether.
In front of Seth stands Sadon, Fairfax, and Dumont, the first with a humorous expression and the other two with emotionless faces. The three of them stand at the foot of my bed while Seth stands just to my right, in front of a small end table between my bed and the curtain. I can't see Seth's eyes, but his stance is stubborn and unyielding.
"It's alright," I try to mumble, but the words come out garbled from my dry and numb mouth, sounding little more than a weak moan.
Still, it's loud enough for everyone to take notice and look at me, Seth seemingly surprised. I clear my throat, tightening my muscles as hard as I can to try and regain more control.
"It's alright," I finally managed to rasp out, my little more than a whisper. "Go."
Seth's gaze wavers as his eyes flicker with emotion, but he still seems to relax. He moves his jaw a few times, seemingly trying to figure out what to say. All he manages is a short, choked sound that he turns into a grunt, turning and brushing past Fairfax as he walks away.
A pang of regret rings clear through me. What was he supposed to say? I'm glad you're alive? I'm sorry you didn't listen or trust me? If I had just pushed Alexander away from you sooner none of this would have happened?
What do you say when bad things happen because you were wrong? How is anyone supposed to reconcile that?
I was the one who trusted Alexander, who was so sure Seth was the monster. I was wrong, and I'm not the only one who is paying the price. How he must feel, having acted right into Alexander's hands…
I look at the remaining three, drifting between them lazily as I abandon that line of thought. I know I should be scared and on edge, desperately trying to figure out some sort of plan, but I barely feel anything at all. A tingle of worry hides within my sluggish mind, but only barely. I swallow, trying my best to stay focused.
"Do you remember what happened?" Dumont asks, his voice slow and careful.
My eyes are heavy, and I already feel exhausted, my throat burning from the few words I've already said. Do I remember what happened? Of course I do, why wouldn't I? You don't easily forget someone revealing they've been lying to you for weeks, trying everything from friendship to seduction to destroy you. How could I possibly forget that, let alone someone trying to kill me afterward?
"Water," I rasp, instead of answering, giving a flat glare at Sadon the whole time.
A little of Sadon's glee fades, replaced by annoyance as Fairfax pours me a cup from a pitcher on a table near the foot of my bed. I slowly struggle to push myself up, but I my arms are weak and it takes everything I have to just sit slightly more upright. Fairfax pressed the cup to my lips, and I drink greedily. When he finally pulls it away, I all but fall back against the bed, weakly pulling the blankets back up over my medical robe.
"There, you've had your water," Sadon says through gritted teeth. "Now answer the question."
I stare at him, something flickering deep inside me. It's too passive to be anger. Instead, it just smolders in my stomach, working it's way through my veins until my whole body thrums with it, even through the tingly numbness.
"Yes," I say quiet but clearly, "I remember."
"Well, do you care to share why exactly you were once again breaking curfew?" Sadon asks. "Or should I we just go with what I've been saying all along: you broke the rules once again and finally got punished for it."
I glare, pursing my lips as I feel my heart to finally pick up, responding to the thrumming hatred. I latch onto the nostalgic feeling, building my strength up, pushing through whatever is making me so groggy. I don't bother thinking about what I say, because I know it won't be fast enough, so instead, I follow my instincts.
"I almost end up dead," I begin quietly, nausea sweeping over me as I say the words. "On Noxian soil, where I'm supposed to be safe so long as I play your games, and the first thing I hear from you is accusations? With no explanation of how I'm alive or what condition I'm in?"
"This isn't about y-"
"Of course it isn't." I scoff, looking away from him. "If it was, if anyone at this academy decided to look past their pride and make sure their students were more focused on becoming summoners instead of killing each other, something like this would never have happened."
"Who do you think you're talking to?" Sadon says, his voice deadly quiet and serious. "I don't think you understand the situation you're in, girl. You're dead, and the only question left is how fast and painful it's going to-"
"Enough!" Dumont barks, his voice sharp enough to make me flinch.
Sadon whips his head to Dumont, the slightest shades of anger coloring his face, but he only scowls. Fairfax seems surprised by me, lifting an eyebrow in silent question, but I don't return his gaze long. Instead, I simply turn to look at Dumont, waiting for another reaction.
His eyes sort of have a glazed look in them, like he's thinking very hard before he speaks. It's the sort of look someone gets when they're trying to remember something, and I feel an echo of a smirk. Of course Dumont cares more about his original purpose than whatever mockery this academy has become. He said so himself just a few nights ago.
"Aria," Dumont says carefully. "I am acutely aware of the… situation we are in. It is for that reason that I have made it a priority to find out what exactly happened."
"Made it a priority over my life?" I spit weakly. "Over me finding out why I can barely feel anything? Over telling me why I can barely stay awake?"
"Yes," Dumont says with a hint of stubbornness. "Because if there is a threat to the lives of students at this academy, than your comfort must be sacrificed."
I let out a breath that's not quite a snort. Always justifying. At least they can live with themselves, I guess.
"Fine," I sigh, fighting my closing eyelids. "Let's get this over with. Ask away."
Dumont tilts his head ever so slightly in thanks, and then begins speaking slowly.
"What we know is that your classmates found your door left open and grew concerned. They went to search for you and found you dying just outside the woods. Beyond that, we don't know what happened."
"Care to fill in the gaps?" Sadon hisses. "And tell us how Fairfax's loose rules allowed you to once again defy explicit orders meant to keep you safe from things like this."
I let out a huff of air, my muscles tensing the more I hear that monster speak. I respond without thinking, giving in to my anger and fear. It's not hard. In fact, it's downright easy. I let my darker emotions drive me, and the words appear in my mouth without me even having to think twice.
"You're right," I say, putting my full scorn behind my words. "If Fairfax had just done his job none of this would have happened."
Everyone stares in stunned silence. Fairfax blinks in surprise, shifting his weight ever so slightly. I can see him trying to catch my eye, searching for an answer
"If Fairfax had actual security," I continue, not meeting his gaze. "I wouldn't have been taken and people wouldn't have tried to murder me."
"What?" Sadon asks, losing his mocking grin.
"People grabbed me while I was walking the halls," I lie, the words coming without effort or thought. "They dragged me out to the woods and tried to murder me. I fought them off and managed to get to the edge of the forest."
I slowly look up, finally meeting Fairfax's eyes.
"And that's what happened," I murmur. "Fairfax's lack of security almost got me killed."
The look on his face changes from one of shock to surprise, and then he quickly reigns it in, resuming his passive stare. He gives the slightest of nods, one that I don't dare return. Something in his gesture seems proud and impressed, and that only makes me angrier.
I should be sickened how easy it is to lie, but instead I just feel justified. I'm done with Noxians. To them, words are weapons, promises are lies, and life is just a game to win. If they want to cheat and kill and steal then why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I even the odds? Why shouldn't I take the shortcuts?
It may be wrong, but isn't someone having their life ripped away, their culture enslaved, and being tortured even worse? Isn't this what they call justice, justified revenge?
"Aria," Dumont says, regaining his composure. "Are you sure…?"
"They wore masks," I continue, bile on my lips. "And said nothing. I don't know who they were."
Sadon looks conflicted, quickly glancing between Fairfax and me, trying to decide who he hates more. I can see the suspicion in his eyes, and I can tell he's tempted to call me out on my lie. It wouldn't surprise me at this point if Alexander told Sadon what happened to insure I would get kicked out. Nothing would surprise me now.
"Very well then," Dumont says heavily, almost disappointedly. "Captain Fairfax, in light of this information, I think it is only appropriate that you be relieved of command over internal security. You will retain your authority over the wall around the entire compound, and Sadon will assume control over this academy's security. Objections?"
"None," Fairfax says flatly, barely seeming bothered.
"Good," Dumont grunts. "In which case, we will leave you to rest. Thank you for your… candor, Aria."
Dumont leaves, Sadon walking close behind only after he throws an almost boyish grin at Fairfax, glee in his eyes. Fairfax barely notices, and he stays, looking down at me.
"What?" I ask, shivering beneath the covers. "Are you angry I betrayed you?"
"No," he responds. "Just surprised I didn't have to tell you to."
"Excuse me?" I ask hotly, finally looking back at him.
"It was the right move," he continues, oblivious to my tone. "I was thinking it may be a bit too dark for you, but I'm glad I was wrong. You need that to survive here."
"I need that to survive here?" I seethe, the anger overflowing. "What I need is someone to do their job! Why wouldn't you have guards posted at all times near the entrance? Do you just like getting me hurt because you're too incompetent to do your job?"
A frosty silence falls in the wake of my words. Fairfax seems to tighten, his hand inching ever so closer to the hilt of his ever present sword. He seems to restrain himself, but I can still see the grim anger in his face.
"My guards were otherwise occupied," Fairfax responds crisply. "Investigating why almost the all the Noxian soldiers in Ionia have been relocated to this compound."
I blink, looking away slightly. I didn't really think much of the growing number of tents and Noxian soldiers, mostly because I barely ever went outside the academy. I guess that is something to be worried about, something that Fairfax would be in position to investigate. Besides, how could he have known I was going to make such a stupid decision?
"I hope it was worth it…" I mumbled absently.
"Yeah," Fairfax says, his voice softening. "Me too."
I hear him walk away, and I feel myself relaxing slightly.
That is, until loud, purposeful steps echo in the room. The doctor appears from around the curtain in his white coat, his long brown hair looking frazzled. Dark bags hang underneath his bloodshot eyes. There's a hint of thinly veiled anger in him, like he's about to find someone to start yelling at, and I tense up instinctively.
"Bloody politics," he growls, setting a bundle of something at the table near the foot of the bed. "I'll rip their throats out…"
He trails off, seemingly just noticing me laying there. He clears his throat, taking a deep, calming breath.
"Apologies," he says with a conceded nod. "For not being here when you awoke. I tried to reason with the Headmaster, but… well, I guess it doesn't matter much now. How are you feeling?"
"Why the sudden concern in my health?" I ask flatly. "You seemed fairly focused on staying indifferent on our first meeting."
He makes a sour face, giving a shrug.
"My attitude may have been slightly influenced, by the, err…"
He fumbles, scratching the back of his head.
"Void take politics," he sighs. "Look, I'm tired of these word games so I'm just going to give it to you straight. I thought I was here to make sure you candidates stayed healthy and didn't exhaust yourselves too much. I didn't sign up to be at some war camp treating injuries for people so they can get injured again the next day. So I'm sorry if I was a little… apathetic before."
I let out a sigh. I guess I should feel better that he got screwed over as much as I did, but it just makes me more miserable, and I'm really, really tired of being miserable.
"It's fine," I mumble back. "Sorry I was a little bit dead both times."
He snorts, folding his arms.
"Not much you could do about that," he says. "Not much any of us can do when higher powers come knocking, I guess."
I swallow down a bit of nausea along with any response that I might have had, wincing slightly. Whatever was keeping my senses blocked is starting to wear off, and I can suddenly feel everything from the soft cotton of my robe to the thick blankets of the bed. My thoughts suddenly seem sharper, and my body starts throbbing with a slight ache in a dozen different places.
"Medicine must be wearing off," the doctor says.
"What did you give me?" I ask, stomach churning. "I've never felt so… detached before."
"Before we get into the details," the doctor says, pulling out some thin white gloves from a pocket. "I would like to look at how well you're healing, if you don't mind a little movement."
"You're the doctor," I say with a shrug, and he smiles lightly.
"Let's start with your waist," he says, finishing pulling on his gloves.
"Sure," I say, and then blink, my face heating up slightly as I try to figure out how to maintain modesty. "Umm…"
"Lift your robe to the bottom of your ribcage and then lower the blanket to the top of your hips," he says, professional and unconcerned.
It takes a little effort to sit up far enough to grab the bottom and pull it up, but the doctor waits patiently. It's incredibly embarrassing to lower the blanket even though it's just to my hips. Besides, he's a doctor and he probably saw a lot more when he was trying to save my life…
That just makes my cheeks heat more, but I let out a sigh and lower the blanket anyway, looking off to the side. He looks for a little bit before reaching down and gently poking a few spots on my stomach, each cold, gloved finger evoking dull pain. I finally work up the will to look down, looking at whatever damage may have been done.
I blink.
All that remains of who knows how many knife wounds is a few pink marks, the kind of marks that are left when you almost get cut. They aren't scars or anything, just little lines criss-crossing my skin.
How? I was stabbed. This isn't possible…
"Alright," the doctor says, pulling his hands away and bringing the blanket back up over me. "Pull your robe back down, and then I'll take a look at your knee."
I do so, giving a nod to him when I'm ready, and he pulls the covers down. I shiver as the cool air hits me, and I push myself onto my elbows to look down at my leg. The doctor reaches to my left knee, gently pressing it in different parts. I expect searing pain, but I only get more hollow aches from the knee that was shattered just… last night? A few hours ago? How long was I even asleep?
He stops, giving a nod to himself and pulling the covers back over my lower half. I sit up fully, looking at him, searching for an answer. He gestures to my hands, and I lift them. He takes a second to look at them, raising an eyebrow before letting go.
The hands I desperately grabbed Cody's knife with don't look injured at all, like nothing even happened.
"They brought you in last night in bad shape," he says, pulling off the gloves in a detached manner. "You were brought in with abrasions and severe contusions across your body consistent with a beating. Your knee was out of place and the surrounding area had a number of comminuted fractures of various severity. My wound trace magic revealed heavy bruising to many of your internal organs and muscle groups along with a minor tear in your right lung, probably from a small shard of bone broken from your ribcage. Your waist had eight stab wounds, and there were significant lacerations to your hands."
He looks at me eying me curiously.
"You were brought in with severe blood loss," he continues slowly. "By all accounts, with how long you were out there, you should have lost a lot more blood."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean if it weren't for magic you would be dead right now," he responds, letting it sink in for a moment. "You must have unconsciously used some sort of magic or technique to slow your bleeding. Still, it almost wasn't enough, even with your unnaturally quick healing abilities. If it weren't for the first aid provided by your classmates, you wouldn't have even made it inside."
"My classmates?"
"That Molly girl used some sort of magic to help you regenerate the blood you were losing, effectively buying you enough time. After your friend Seth-"
"He's not my friend," I interrupt without thinking.
"Sorry," the doctor says, giving me an odd look. "Your classmate Seth realized how dire your situation was so he carried you down here himself. Anyway, their efforts allowed me to apply my magic to fully stabilize you. I realized any healing magic would outright kill you because of the amount of energy drain it would put on your body, so I instead focused on just stopping your bleeding. With you stable, I administered three enchanted potions of healing to replenish your energy and bolster your body's natural regeneration. I gave you a strong painkiller to make sure you wouldn't wake up, and then it was mostly just waiting, maintaining the spell to keep you from losing more blood while your body healed itself."
"How long did that take?" I question.
"I maintained the spell for almost an hour before the exterior wounds closed," he says, weariness entering his voice finally. "From there I spent every other hour letting you regain strength and using magic to heal your internal injuries. I made sure to slowly administer two more healing potions to keep your body from being poisoned and still regenerate much more rapidly. the whole process took eight hours."
"Eight hours…" I whisper, shaking my head. "What time is it now?"
"Almost sundown, so you were asleep for a bit, but not nearly as long as I wanted. Dumont forced me to wake you up so they could get answers before nightfall."
"Today was a free day, right?" I ask. "I didn't miss any training?"
"No," he snorts. "You didn't miss any training… but…"
"What?"
"You're going to be incredibly weak and exhausted the next few days," he says. "You should be confined to bedrest for at least another two days, but they refused to let that pass. I'm afraid you'll be dueling with your classmates tomorrow. One hand-to-hand, one weapon based, and one magical duel are scheduled."
I look at him, considering my next words carefully.
"Thank you," I begin. "For saving my life. I can't say I'm surprised they're forcing me to return tomorrow, but thank you for trying to help me."
He gives a shrug, a mixture of defeat and indifference in the motion.
"I should probably get used to whatever strength I do have. I don't suppose there's clothes here?"
"I had some brought up," he says, gesturing to the end table. "I'll give you some privacy then."
He walks away, closing the curtain to partition me off from the rest of the room. I take a moment just to close my eyes and breathe.
I'm alive.
I don't know if that thought is a curse or a praise, but it somehow rings with both simultaneously. I survived, somehow. Most people would kill, heh, for this kind of luck. I suppose every rule has its exception. That's me, the exception. The outcast. The target.
The Ionian.
I push off the blankets and force myself to get up slowly. My forearms ache especially bad from shielding my head from all those blows, and they shake as I push my legs over the side. I stare down at the smooth stone floor, hesitating only a moment before I gently lower myself down. The floor is cool on my naked feet, sending another shiver up my spine.
I take my time, tentatively putting weight first on my right leg and then my left. Even with the care I take, my knees buckle from the weight, more aching and soreness resounding through me. I somehow manage to stand and work my way over, each small step I taking sticking slightly to the floor.
I get to my clothes after an eternity, gasping for breath as sweat starts condensing on my brow. I squint at the pile, building up grim determination. I pull the robe off, my arms stiff and movements jerky.
Now comes the fun part.
It takes forever and is incredibly painful, awkward, and embarrassing, to just put my undergarments on, so I just skip my leggings and get to work on the rest of the uniform. Still, it takes a good ten minutes or so of struggling, and by the end of it I'm exhausted, sitting back against the bed and panting for breath.
A huff of frustration escapes me. My whole body is stiff and unresponsive, my fingers barely even able to curl into a fist. How am I supposed to fight tomorrow if I can barely dress myself?
I grab my leggings and clutch them in a little bundle to my chest, pushing through the curtain to the get to the rest of the infirmary. The only other person is the doctor at his desk near the door, arms folded. I manage to make it the door with half stumbling half limping steps, taking a second to rest before I leave whatever false safety this room has.
"I wanted to say," the doctor starts speaking. "I did take a look at your back and-"
"I never caught your name," I interrupt, my heart jumping into my throat.
He gives a wince, looking away.
"Nikolai Bloodthread, formerly Ivanov," he says, words quiet. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you."
"Don't be," I say, casting one last glance at him. "No one can."
I leave before he has a chance to speak again, closing the door behind me. A wave of renewed nausea sweeps over me as I get my bearings, heading to the stairwell when I finally figure out my rights and lefts. I almost stumble in the dim light, catching myself on the railing with a sharp breath.
Each step is a challenge on its own, like I'm climbing down a sheer cliff and not stairs. I end up taking a ten second break after each one I manage to get down, gasping for air by the time I make it down to my sublevel.
I stumble from the stairs to the wall, leaning against it as I walk. About halfway down the hallway, Molly steps from behind the corner, her face gloomy and exhausted. Her eyes widen when she see's me, running over and clasping her hands in front of her as tears start forming.
"Aria," she whispers. "Thank God you're okay. I didn't think…"
Molly trails off, searching my face for some kind of response, her eyes wet.
"Well, whoever she really is, it's fairly clear she's been lying this whole time to everyone."
Anger suddenly sparks inside me, a narcotic warmth spreading through my aching muscles. I stare at this girl, the one who's been nice to me and done nothing but help me, and I just begin to burn. She's been lying to me this whole time, just like Alexander. At any moment or second she could betray and hurt me just as badly, a snake waiting to strike.
Maybe Alexander was lying to me, trying to get me to turn on my allies.
But I'm done taking chances on liars, on Noxians.
"Is Molly even your first name?" I spit out. "Or was that a lie too?"
She stops, blinking in confusion that turns to shock. Her mouth moves, but it takes a few attempts for words to come out.
"Aria, I never lied to you about anyth-"
"No?" I interrupt, clenching my teeth. "Not about your name? About who you are? About what you're doing here? I find that hard to believe considering your house doesn't even exist in Noxus."
Her face pales considerably, hand twitching at her side.
"Rennes is a fairly small house, and my father is only a minor diplomat, so we spend most of our time outside Noxus…"
She trails off, forcibly stopping her mechanical response as I shake my head.
"Aria, I'm sorry," Molly pleads. "I just… if anyone found out who I am… I didn't mean to-"
"Molly," I say sharply. "I'm done. I'm done with liars, with Noxians. So get out of my way."
She moves, little sounds still leaving her mouth like she wants to continue trying to convince me. I keep stumbling past, leaving her standing there.
I didn't want to believe Alexander, to think that he actually meant what he said about people I thought were at least my allies. But it's true. It's all true. Everybody lies.
I pull on my door handle, surprised when it doesn't turn until I remember the locking spell. I grit my teeth and focus my will, undoing the magic. It doesn't take much energy to undo it, but the concentration is taxing, and I almost fall afterwards, leaning against the door with a growl.
I open the door and stare into the apparent serenity of the room. It only makes me angrier and angrier, until I'm seething with rage, my hands shaking. A cacophony of thoughts and feelings barrage me, growing and growing until my entire body trembles with restrained rage. It takes all I can muster to enter my room and close the door before I fall back against the door, falling to the floor and raising my hands to cover my face.
I hate this world, this life of mine. Why can't I just be left alone? Why do I have to shoulder this pain? Why? Just why?
The question grows in intensity until my head starts throbbing from the sheer force I ask it with, little animalistic sounds escaping from my mouth. I look through my eyes, searching the room for some sort of answer.
That's when I remember it, what might be able to answer me. I cling to the idea like a drowning person to a raft, scrambling to my feet and wobbling through my room, searching until I find what I'm looking for. I grab it and leave, sending a flicker of desperation, anger, and will as I leave, red sparks crackling around the doorknob behind me.
I walk through the hallway and up the stairs, not stopping even to catch my breath. I ignore the looks from the people in the academy's lobby, heading outside and along a path I saw once before, heading for a building I stumbled across after one of my runs.
The painted light of sundown spills shadows onto the ground around me, but I ignore it, just like I ignore the light roar of sound that comes from the soldier's' side of the compound. I ignore it all, heading towards a large, circular shaped building with a domed roof made of wood.
The building looks comparatively shabby and rushed compared to even the plain stonework of the academy, huge wooden double doors at the entrance reinforcing the feeling. I look up at the words written above the door, pausing briefly.
House of Prayer it reads simply, and I push the door open, entering the hallway and letting the door swing shut behind me.
The hallway is made of more stone with no furniture. There are no doors, windows, or anything. It only leads forward, and so I walk until I reach the end, where it opens up to a circular room that must be in the direct center of the building. Around me are almost a dozen doors, all open and leading to different rooms, each taking up an equal slice of space out of the building.
Above each door is a symbol ranging from stars and crosses to blades and fire.
The one thing my mother always told me about Ionia was it was much more accepting of religion than other city-states she had been in. Although no religion is officially recognized or condemned by any of the city-states, certain ones tended to have more followers in certain areas. That being said, Ionia is one of the only ones to willfully accept all religions, never trying to put one above another or drive one out. The core idea of Ionia is enlightenment, acceptance, and growth of the soul. To most Ionians, there is no right or wrong religion, just the one that resonates most with someone.
Noxus on the other hand, has a complete apathy to religion. Whether you follow a religion or not, they only care about strength and power. My mom used to say they just felt it was another tool to use, another weapon to attack and defend themselves with.
So it really isn't surprising that a place like this exists, a bland little building made to increase the effectiveness of soldiers who believed in such things.
I slowly spin around, looking into each of the rooms. All are empty except for a few benches and the lone symbol of faith, and I feel my hand clench tighter and tighter, my breathing picking up.
Empty. The building's empty.
I let out a scream, letting out the emotions bottled inside of me.
"Why?" I ask, spinning wildly, looking at the different rooms. "Why me? Why do you keep doing this to me?"
There's no answer, no beckoning light or whispering wind. Just silence and emptiness.
"I can't take this anymore!" I scream, tears starting to flow freely. "Why am I being punished? What did I do? Why is any of this happening?"
My voice echoes ever so slightly in the dusty air, reverberating in the lifeless rooms.
"Was once not enough?" I keep screaming, eyes searching the different rooms. "Is this some sort of punishment? What did I do? What did I ever do?"
My legs start shaking as I stumble around, jaw wobbling.
"I'm trying," I gasp out. "I'm trying so hard. So why? Why again? Why does this keep happening to me?"
Still nothing. No vision or epiphany. Just me.
"I know you're out there!" I scream louder, my voice crazed and slightly cracking. "You have to be! One of you, all of you, it doesn't matter! You have to exist! Because if you don't, then what's the point of anything that I've gone through?"
I fall to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Please," I whisper. "Just answer me."
I look down, slowly unfolding my hand in my lap. My silver cross with its sapphire gemstone in the center lays in my palm, cool against my skin. I feel nothing from looking at it except regret and shame. I start shaking all over, tears blurring my vision as I wait for something, for anything to happen.
"Fix me," I whisper. "Please."
Nothing. Nothing but pain, guilt, and shame burning inside me.
I stand up with one last tormented scream, facing the doorway with a similar looking cross on it, and I throw the necklace as hard as I can. Then I turn, walking quickly from the building.
I don't look back.
I keep my head down the whole way back to my room, hiding my tear stained eyes from the world.
When I finally get inside my room, I fall against my bed, burying my head in the sheets.
I don't belong. I've been forsaken by everyone and everything. My faith, my allies, and even my family have left me. I'm alone. I want to go home, but I don't have one. I don't belong.
The worst part is, I know why. It's a feeling ingrained in me, something that just is.
I'm broken, and I hurt everyone around me. No matter how hard I try to make some meaning from my life, that's all I do. I hurt people, and I get hurt back. I've ignored suffering, and so I suffer. I've been a tormentor, and so I'm tormented. I've done nothing, and so…
...so I am nothing.
I lift my face from the bed, inching backwards on my knees enough so I can reach under my bed and pull out my wooden chest. I open it, quickly taking what I'm looking for before I relock and shove it under my bed again. Then I lean my back against the bed frame, holding the knife in front of me.
It's a simple Ionian single bladed knife, it's blade thin but deadly. It's mostly meant for throwing, to distract opponents and with luck hit them.
I take the hilt in my right hand and gently press the tips of my fingers to the tip of the blade, pulling each back before I draw blood.
I'm not nothing. Maybe I used to be, but not anymore. Now I'm worse. All I do is hurt those around me. I'm a burden to my family, and an obstacle to my enemies. All I do is hurt people.
I'm worse than nothing.
I'm broken.
I take the blade, setting it gently against my wrist and slowly apply pressure. The blade has a cruel chill to it, uncaring yet still deadly. It doesn't take much until I feel a hint of prickling pain, and I swallow, my heart suddenly taking panicked beats in my chest.
I'm scared.
But I always am.
I should do this. No more pain, no more suffering. My family will never know. Noxus won't let something like that become public. No, I would simply disappear. My family would always have hope inside, that I escaped and was somewhere being happy. They would be sad but understanding, and I could never hurt them again.
My breathing picks up, and I inch more and more pressure onto the blade, getting ready slide it hard across my wrist.
It's sharp.
It'll burn for a while, like cuts do, but I've dealt with worse pain.
One smooth motion.
I can do this.
I will.
My hand is sweaty, and I readjust my grip slightly, holding it even tighter.
I grit my teeth.
The cold metal presses harder against my flesh.
I take in a final deep breath.
And I jump in surprise when a series of sudden and loud thuds interrupt everything.
I quickly palm the knife, still holding it at the ready as I stand up and hurry to the door. I wipe at my face a few times with a sleeve as I unlock the door, opening it quickly.
Seth stands in front of me.
We stand on either side of the doorway, saying nothing.
But what is there to say?
I look to the side, clutching the doorknob hard with my left hand.
"I'm tired," I begin, trying to end the conversation before it can begin. "So if you wouldn't mind just-"
"No."
The words ring with stubbornness, and I find myself flipping the knife hidden just behind my back to a normal grip. I drift back to looking at his face. There's no malice or anger, just resolve.
"There's things I need to tell you."
"Seth," I say, drained of energy. "Look, I know you didn't mean to-"
"But I did," he interrupts. "I played right into his hands."
"We played into his hands," I sigh. "It's no one's fault but my own."
"No, it's not your fault either. There's only one person to blame, and I'm going to take him down. Whatever it takes."
"Cool," I shrug. "Yeah, sure. Just remember he fooled all of us for weeks, tried to kill me, and is willing to do anything to get the job done."
"So am I," Seth says, eyes darkening, and I snort.
"Sorry," I say flatly. "Not to sound skeptical, but you're honor bound. You won't break your code."
"How do you know?" Seth challenges, folding his arms.
"Because," I shoot back. "If you had just manned up and dealt with him instead of doubting yourself, this wouldn't have happened to me!"
I don't mean the words to come out, but they do, hot and accusing. I wince slightly, expecting Seth to yell back and storm off. Instead he just nods, his face never changing.
"You're right," he says, his voice hoarse. "It wouldn't have, but now I will."
"Seth," I say, exhaustion taking over me. "I'm sorry, but why are you telling me this? I just learned how everyone I thought I could be allies with has either lied or failed me when it really mattered. So I'm not really sure what you want me to say here, because now I can't let anyone in, not even a little."
Seth stands there, one hand twitching. He takes a deep breath, and then slowly lets it out, relaxing both hands completely.
"I'm sure Alex told you his story. Let me tell mine.
"Seth-"
"Please," He interrupts. "Just… listen."
I sigh, giving him a nod and leaning against the doorframe, watching him.
"My parents served in the war," he begins, his voice losing all emotion. "They were in charge of a group of misfits, people no one would miss. They got the missions that needed deniability, the dirty work Noxus wanted to be able to hide at any moment."
"A kill squad," I spit, eyes narrowing. "The kind that razed villages with the innocent men, women, and children still inside."
"The very same," he shuts his eyes. "My parents… it wasn't like that at first. But when they were asked to eventually do it… they couldn't. So they tipped off the villages before they arrived, never killing anyone innocent."
"But then… one of their subordinates found out. He reported them, and they were set for execution for being traitors. In Noxus, there's a tradition… if the traitor has any family, they must prove their innocence, or else they are guilty just for being associated. They prove it by… by…"
He trails off, taking another steadying breath.
"I was supposed to be the one to kill them. To cut off the heads of my own parents."
I look up at him. His eyes are dry and cold, like steel.
"I was saved by one of the other subordinates who vouched for me, and took the task himself. I watched as the only loyal person I ever knew killed my family. Then he left me, saying he would eventually be back."
He lets out a sigh, voice steadying considerably.
"I was one of the oldest of the kids at the orphanage set up in Ionia by Noxus. The other was a girl by the name of Illyria. Ily and I, we looked out for the other kids. Did what we had to keep ourselves fed. She was the closest thing I ever had to a sister. Until that same subordinate who killed my parents came back and adopted me."
"So you had to leave her behind," I whisper grimly, and he nods.
"She understood. Any of us would have done anything to get a family. She didn't hate me… until she earned enough money to come to the same school I was going to."
"And that's what really happened," I say, swallowing whatever empathy I have. "She got into a duel there, you tried to help her, and…"
"Alex," Seth curses. "He made it look like he was the victim, that his asking on my behalf got her beaten so badly. I went out and found the guy who did it, and I… I hurt him. He was a noble, and I didn't care. But… he took it personally and…"
He struggles, choking on the words.
"Ily came to me a few days later," he says quietly. "Back at the orphanage, she had a little brother. They beat him into a coma."
Seth coughs, clearing his throat and looking around, blinking quickly.
"It was my fault. If I had controlled my anger, if I had even just went after the person actually responsible… that was the last time I saw her. The last time I ever will have seen her, because she made it clear if we ever met again, only one of us would walk away."
He finishes, looking off to the side, his face blank.
My heart aches along with the rest of my body now, and I clench my teeth, tightening my grip on the door until my knuckles are white. I really didn't need another story about the things Noxus is willing to do. I don't need more pain and suffering, not another person's to shoulder.
"Why are you telling me this?" I whisper, shutting out the horrific images. "Why?"
"Because I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. This time, I end the person responsible."
My stomach drops, eyes shooting open. Seth's face is completely serious, eyes filled with tightly controlled hate.
"W-what?" I stammer out.
"Alex is going to pay," Seth says intensely. "His dreams and ambitions, everything he wants with his life, I'm not going to stop until I destroy every last one. That starts here, at this academy. I'm going to drop his points to zero, and make him go home in shame."
"He'll see you coming" I respond, shaking my head. "You can't do it."
"You're right. I can't, but I can help you do it."
Surprise and suspicion swirl in my stomach, and I eye him carefully.
"What do you mean?"
"Neither of us can beat him alone," Seth says quietly. "But I can help you. I can be your weapon, hitting him where you can't. Use me. Do it so we can finally get payback on that-"
"No," I say, the word leaving before I can stop myself.
"What?" he blinks.
"Seth, this… partnership, it can't happen. Not now. Not after what he did. I can barely survive him. How am I supposed to beat him without even more risk, and how could I possibly trust you now?"
"Because I've been helping you all this time!" Seth pleads.
"That means nothing now…"
Seth bites his lip, and then moves a hand, fishing something from his back pocket. I tense up, bringing the knife slightly from behind me. He brings out a scroll of some sort, and I squint, looking between it and him.
"Please, just look at this," Seth insists, pushing it closer to me.
I sigh, grabbing it and unfolding it with my left hand quickly.
"There's literally nothing that can change…"
My heart drops as my eyes race over the words.
The signature binds the owner of this scroll…
No, this isn't possible.
...a Geass, impossible to break without injury to…
It can't be. He must have stolen it or… or…
...no violence or malicious plans to be committed within or around…
I get to the bottom, a stain of blood signing the geass, the magical contract that compels it's user to follow every written word and implied meaning.
"No," I say. "This doesn't… it was Fairfax who…"
I trail off as he shakes his head, staring straight into my eyes.
"I let you think it was him," Seth says gently. "I let you assume it because there was no other way to get you to let me train you those nights in the forest."
"But… that night with Sadon…"
"Aria, why do you think it took Fairfax so long to show up?" he says, quiet but firm. "I couldn't commit any violence in the forest. He wasn't taking forever to set up an alibi, it was just the time it took me to run back to the academy and convince him that you were in danger."
My vision turns red.
"Oh good," I shout, crumpling the geass in my hand slightly. "So you were also lying to me. For a second there I thought there was someone here who hadn't lied to me yet. I should probably ask Devon next just to make sure."
"Aria-"
"It's a good thing you kept it secret," I continue venomously. "Because if you had told revealed this before, I might have actually trusted you over Alexander."
"You know that's not true," Seth says. "You would have thought it was a trap. I'm not charismatic or persuasive like Alex. The second you found out who was really helping you, you would have never listened to any of my advice. You would have second guessed again and again, and that's something you couldn't afford. Not with the duels."
I stare at him. He's right. I know he is. That's not the problem. He was just trying to help.
"You know," I say softly. "I wish I could trust that you wanted to help me. I do. But it doesn't matter now."
"What? Of course it's not too late."
"Yes, it is Seth. It just… is. Alright?"
He stares at me, dumbfounded and eyes wide.
"So what?" he asks, exasperated. "You're just going to let him win?"
"I'm not letting anyone win, Seth," I say, looking down at the floor. "It's just the way it is. If I go after him, he'll go after me even harder."
"You can't just give up!" Seth shouts.
"Give up?" I snarl. "Is that what you call being almost murdered? What do you want me to do? Die trying to get petty revenge"
"I want you to survive!" he hisses back. "He's not going to just call it even and give up! He won't stop doing things like last night until you are gone! You need to fight!"
"I'm tired of fighting!" I finally shout, something breaking inside me. "All I do is fight! All I do is hurt everyone around me! Why do I have to be the one taking all the pain? How can you even say that? You don't know anything about me!"
"And you don't have a monopoly on pain!" he shouts, eyes tearing up. "You can't just submit to them like everyone else just because they tried to kill you!"
"It's my life! I can do what I want, and I'm tired of getting hurt trying to do the right thing!"
"If that were true you wouldn't be here!" He yells.
"You know nothing about me!"
"I know what I saw last night on y-"
He trails off, face paling. I can feel the blood rushing inside of me, my face hot with rage and shame.
"Go ahead," I growl. "Say it."
He shakes his head.
"I just meant you wouldn't be here if you let your past-"
"Leave," I say, quiet as death. "Now."
He closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing his emotions. When he opens his eyes again, he looks genuinely sorry. He shakes his head in that sort of sad way people do when there's nothing left to say, and then Seth walks away.
I close the door and lock it.
Then I walk over to my bed and curl up under the covers.
I had almost forgot that they saw last night.
Almost.
Everyone knows now.
I'm surprised Seth even had the courage to approach me.
I close my eyes willing myself to sleep. Anything to escape my thoughts. No matter how hard I try, though, they echo back, threatening me with memories better forgotten. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my throat is suddenly dry.
I'm terrified to go to sleep because I know what will happen when I do, and I don't want to remember. I don't want another memory-dream. It's been so long, but I know what I'll remember if I fall asleep.
I force my eyes to stay closed, hoping that exhaustion takes me quickly.
My heart pounds over and over again, echoing through my veins like rain against the ground, constant and unending.
Rain…