Chapter 45
Chapter
Forty-Five
SABLE
I am him.
The realization slams into me as soon as the world shifts, as soon as the cold darkness that consumed us fades away into something more... tangible. My hands, larger, rougher, covered in tattoos that seem to burn under my skin, feel like my own, yet not mine . Every detail falls into place, the disorienting feeling of becoming someone else settling deep into my bones.
I am no longer standing in the soft, warm light of Torin’s chambers. I’m in a dark room, the ground beneath my boots cracked and dry, the scent of blood and dust hanging heavy in the air. It’s hot, unbearably so. I recognize it, though I have never seen it before. It’s his home—a place of harsh, unforgiving stone walls and long shadows, a world I’ve never imagined.
But I feel the connection immediately. I know this place. I feel the hate, the anger, the rage that has been buried deep inside me—the pounding of my heart, the thrum of blood pumping through my veins. The world feels... too small for me, too suffocating, and I can feel myself growing, expanding, a part of me that’s ready to snap .
The sound of voices snaps me out of the fog in my mind, the anger, the pain, the shame—all of it swirling like a storm inside me. I lift my head, slow, my vision blurry from the blood dripping into my eyes. The world feels distant, muffled, as if I’m seeing it through a thick layer of fog.
I’m tied up. My wrists and ankles bound with chains that dig into my skin, the sharp edges of the metal cutting into me with every slight movement. My chest aches from the blows. My body is bruised, battered. But that’s not what hurts the most.
What hurts the most is the laughter. The taunting, cruel laughter of my siblings.
They stand in front of me, their faces twisted in mockery, eyes alight with malice. The air between us is thick with disdain. I can feel their hands trembling with their excitement of what’s coming next.
“You know, little brother,” the oldest one sneers, stepping forward. His tall, imposing figure leans over me, his hand tightening around the hilt of a blade. “You should be grateful. We’re giving you what you’ve always wanted.” He presses the cold steel against my chest, the sharp edge grazing my skin, sending a shiver through me.
“I bet you love these knives,” the next one, my middle brother, says with a mocking grin. “All you ever do is stare at them, play with them. That's because you don’t have any real power, do you? Not like us.” His voice drips with contempt, the words sinking into my mind like poison .
I grit my teeth, refusing to respond, but the truth stings. They’re right. I don’t have any power. Not like they do. I’m nothing. I’m weak. They’ve always known it. The first of my tribe born without magical abilities. Always rubbed it in my face. I can feel my heart pounding, the thrum of blood in my ears, but I don’t dare to look up at them. Not now. Not when they’re so close to breaking me completely.
“Look at you, Torin,” the youngest sneers, her voice laced with venom. She pulls a sharp knife from her belt and traces the blade down my chest, cutting deep enough for the blood to pour freely. It burns, searing against the rawness of my skin. The pain is blinding, but it’s not enough to make me scream. It’s not enough to break me.
Yet.
They laugh again, louder this time, enjoying the spectacle. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound, but it’s impossible. The cruelty in their voices echoes in my mind, repeating over and over. “Weakling. Nothing. ”
And then it happens.
The blade digs in deeper, and the pain slices through me like a hot knife. The chains cut into my skin, digging deeper with every shift. I feel the rage surging, building. It starts in my gut, a fire igniting inside me, hotter and faster than anything I’ve ever known.
“You really like knives, huh?” The oldest one mocks, turning the knife in his hand, pushing it harder into my flesh, twisting it. “So much better than powers, isn’t it?”
The words blur in my mind, lost in the fire growing inside me. My skin feels like it’s on fire, my heartbeat roaring in my chest. I can feel the heat growing, spreading from my core to every inch of my body. The chains rattle as I strain against them, my fingers and toes curling in pain, but something else starts to stir. Something different .
I try to ignore it. I try to push it down. But it’s too much.
The air in the room grows thick, a heavy, suffocating pressure. I feel it pushing against me, clawing at the edges of my control. It’s not just rage. It’s something else . Something wild, something feral. It’s my power—the one I’ve been hiding from for so long.
Because it's too strong.
I can't control it.
And then it erupts .
The chains snap like twigs, the metal grinding against itself in a cacophony of noise. My body is no longer just me. I am raw power , an unrelenting force that bursts from the depths of my soul. I don’t even know what’s happening. The air crackles with energy, the ground beneath me shakes. I can hear my siblings' voices—shocked, terrified—but I don’t care.
"They are cruel. They are filled with hate. They deserve to die," the power whispers into my ear.
I snap .
The walls around me tremble as the force of my power radiates outward. The floor cracks open, and the room feels like it’s sinking beneath my feet. My vision goes black with the power surging through me, but I can hear them. I hear the screams of my siblings as they try to flee. They can’t.
And, I laugh.
The first one is gone, his body torn apart by the shockwave I sent rippling through the air. The next one is blown back by the force of my power, her body crumpling against the stone wall with a sickening thud. The last one—my sister —is the last to fall. She’s gasping for air, her hand clutching her throat, but it’s too late. The power has already consumed her.
I stand alone.
Laughing.
The air is thick with the stench of blood, the remains of my family scattered around me like broken toys. Their screams echo in my mind, their faces twisted in fear as I tore them apart. The power that I didn’t have, that they always mocked me for, now rages inside me—untamed, unstoppable.
I stand among the wreckage, breathing heavily, my body trembling with the aftermath. My hands, slick with blood, are still shaking. The room is a mess of destruction—stone walls cracked, furniture shattered, the earth beneath me torn apart. My siblings, my family—they are gone. They were never really family, were they? They never cared for me, never saw me as anything but a burden. Now, they’re dead. And I... I did this.
A maniacal laugh bubbles up from deep within me. It’s hollow, empty, and feels so wrong , but I can’t stop it. My heart beats faster, the bloodlust surging through me like a fever.
The power whispers to me. "This isn't enough. Take more. Take everything. Take the world, the universe, and rip it apart with your bare hands. You are the reaper and the world will bow to your will."
I feel it in my bones, a dark hunger that fills the void of my empty soul. It’s like a fire, raging inside me, pushing me to destroy everything in my path.
The destruction around me... it doesn’t feel like enough. The thrill, the rush—it’s addictive. My body is still trembling, but it’s not from fear anymore. It’s from need . The desire to consume . To take it all in, to let this power devour me and everything else.
I look around at the remnants of the tribe. They’re gone. All of them. Every one of them, wiped from existence. Not just my siblings but everyone . The power I’ve held inside me, locked away for so long, has obliterated them all.
The voice within me grows louder, urging me on.
" Finish what you started. Let it consume you. Give in. Die like the rest of them. "
My gaze shifts to the nearby table, where a blade lies gleaming in the dim light. I reach for it, my fingers curling around the hilt, and as I lift it, I feel the cool steel against my palm, the rush of adrenaline spiking as I prepare to end it all.
Do I end it now? End this madness, this pain? I’m already covered in blood, the lives of my family drained from them by my own hand. What’s left for me? Nothing.
I bring the blade to my chest, the tip pressing into the skin over my heart, the blood pulsing beneath it. One thrust. One clean motion.
But then something shifts. A voice, calm and steady, cuts through the madness.
“Not yet, Torin.”
I freeze. The words—they’re like a lifeline. A tether pulling me back from the edge. I look up, my vision hazy with blood and fury. I don’t recognize the man standing before me. His silhouette is shrouded in darkness, his presence like a beacon in the storm.
It’s not my voice. It’s a voice I’ve not heard before. It’s not the voice of my family, not the voice of my tormentors. It’s...
I don’t know who he is, but his eyes—there’s something in them. Something that pulls me in, something that makes me hesitate.
He speaks again, softer this time, his voice filled with something like compassion, something human that I can’t place. “It’s not time to die yet, Torin,” he says. “You still have a purpose. You’re not done.”
I stand there, trembling, the knife still pressed against my chest. The voice in my head screams at me to end it, to let go, but his words— his presence —anchor me. I feel the rage begin to drain out of me slowly, like water seeping from a broken dam .
But before I can speak, before I can ask who he is, everything fades.
I gasp as the world shifts. The weight of the memory lifts, the violent storm of Torin’s past slowly fading away, leaving me in the warmth of the present. I’m back in the bathtub, back in the safe embrace of the bathroom, Torin’s steady presence surrounding me. The water ripples gently, the soft heat soothing my aching body.
Tears streak down my face as I blink, my hand trembling as I reach up to touch my damp cheeks. I don’t even realize I’ve been crying. My mind is still reeling from what I just experienced.
I look up at Torin, his large form still surrounding me, his presence calming in its steadiness. But his eyes—there’s a flicker of something there, something raw, something he’s kept buried beneath the surface.
"Torin," I whisper, my voice breaking. “I... I understand now.”
His brow furrows, but there’s a softness to his gaze that wasn’t there before. He kneels in front of me, his strong hands reaching for mine. He holds them gently, as if afraid that I’ll break if he’s too rough.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I never wanted you to see that part of me.”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “No, you don’t understand. I needed to see it. I needed to understand where you came from. ”
But then, as the pieces start to click together in my mind, a sudden realization strikes me. My breath catches in my throat, the answer coming to me like a whisper in the back of my mind. "It was Finn, wasn’t it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Torin’s eyes soften, and I see the briefest flash of something vulnerable cross his features. He doesn’t answer immediately, but his gaze flickers to the floor, the weight of the memory settling between us.
“Finn…” I say again, my voice thick with the understanding now. “It was Finn who stopped you. When you were about to end it. He saved you.”
Torin looks up, locking eyes with me. His jaw tightens for a moment, but then he nods slowly, the truth spilling from him like an old, familiar wound. “Yeah. It was Finn. He found me... after. He pulled me out of that darkness when I couldn’t pull myself out. He’s the only one who ever could.”
I feel the weight of those words sink into me, the enormity of Finn’s role in Torin’s life settling over me. In that moment, I realize just how much Finn has carried, how much he’s done to hold the pieces of Torin’s broken soul together.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Maybe all this time I've made unfair assumptions about these men.
The connection between us is stronger than ever, the bond we share deepening with every passing moment. I can feel his emotions, his vulnerability, his raw power, all flooding through me. And for the first time, I realize that this —this bond, this connection— this is what has always tied us together. We are linked, not just by desire, but by something far deeper. Something painful. Something that goes beyond the flesh.
I move to stand, but Torin’s hand gently pulls me back into the water with him, his touch grounding me. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes say everything. His past is a part of him. But so is his future. And in this moment, I realize, we’re both bound by our own scars—his from years of torment and rage, and mine from the oath that keeps me tied to vengeance.
We’re both lost in our own ways, but maybe we can find some sort of peace together.