Chapter 1
T
he darkness stretched endlessly around me, undeterred by the blazing fire. Its flames offered no illumination. “You are a monster.” I don’t know who you are.
There was so much blood on my hands. No, please, don’t do this to me…
“You deserve to be locked in a cage.” I know I did this to him. His head rested in my lap, and that beautiful face I loved beyond my life lay lifeless. Please come back to me. Please.
“It is you that should have died, not them.” Fuck you. You don’t know what I’ve gone through!
“They sacrificed everything; what did you ever sacrifice?”
I gave them everything. I gave my entire life for you ungrateful people. He died to save your useless existence. You will all burn. I will fucking destroy you all for what you did to him. What you have done to me!
Azahara bolted upright in bed.
The nightmares had jolted her awake, and the turbulent waters near the coast only intensified her distress.
Everything around her seemed to spin, and her body trembled with fear.
A dreadful sensation gripped her gut as she struggled to shake off the haunting image of Kaed laying lifeless in her arms.
The weight of having killed thousands on the battlefield in a matter of minutes bore down on her.
The realization that the King wasn’t seeking to bring her to trial, but to instead end her life intensified her despair.
It meant she couldn’t return home, but it wasn’t as if she desired to, anyway.
Despite the painful thoughts of never seeing Illyan and Zhal again, she couldn’t bear to put them at risk because of her darkness.
Every part of her ached, yet she felt no pain. Her body was so numb that if the ship crashed into the bay and took her down, she would welcome dying to suffocation in peace.
In addition to everything else, regaining her memories from the past five hundred years felt like a journey through the underworld. Every sight triggered memories that would flash before her eyes, unleashing a whirlwind of emotions.
She lowered her head into her hands, curled her legs, and leaned between her knees.
Stop the incessant memories, by the Mother.
Please help me. Whether it was the random choice of black attire she wore onto the ship, a memory of wearing it to a Northern tavern flickered before her eyes, or something as simple as eating a peach, that transported her back to the moment when she had sliced her finger open while attempting to make a fruit medley pie.
The impact of her memories returning had nearly caused her to black out during the first few days. However, she’d gladly welcome those memories over the relentless flashbacks of that fateful day. Anything was better than reliving that.
“Come back to me!” “How fucking dare you!” “You swore!”
“How could I have done that to you? I am the monster...” Her voice trembled, barely audible, as she felt herself descending into the abyss of her thoughts.
It was a place that would ensnare her in an endless loop, replaying that haunting moment on an eternal loop—the sight of Thall’s sword piercing Kaed’s chest, impaling her very heart.
If Thall had known her intentions, would he have stopped his tirade?
His soul lingered in purgatory until she joined him a few days later. The path she had discovered remained inexplicable, yet their conversation upon her arrival was brief but bittersweet, ending in her quest to vanquish him entirely.
“You took him from me,” She remembered, staring at him with no remorse.
“You be—” Thall didn’t get to finish his last words as she crushed his soul into oblivion. There was nothing beyond that. Once the soul was destroyed, it didn’t move on or wander. He was no more, and that’s exactly how she wanted it.
For Thall to be nothing, because he took her everything.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she felt no shame in letting them flow. It was all she could do to prevent the ship from crumbling in the breeze.
There had been a moment when she almost destroyed her home because she had been holding back her tears and emotions while trying to have a simple conversation about what jam she wanted on her toast.
“Ladybug? Grape or Strawberry?” The sun blazed relentlessly against my skin, making me uncomfortable. “Ladybug...” I wished the sun would set permanently. That seemed like the only solution. Could I destroy that, too?
“Azahara, do you want something else?”
“I don’t want your jelly toast, Illyan. Can’t you ever be quiet?” I could feel the power radiating between my fingers, pulsating through every pore. The chair I had been sitting on now lay in pieces.
The way they looked at me was pure fear. Good, they should be afraid of me.
A firm hand pressed against my shoulder, unafraid, preventing me from lashing out at what was left of my family. I would have destroyed them and the house that had become my only sanctuary.
“Eggs it is then,” Illyan said, but my eyes were on Zhal. Her expression showed sympathy.
“Fuck your sympathy.” The words were meant to hurt, but she didn’t falter.
I cried then; the pent-up anger and pain I had held back finally burst forth in waves of salty tears. Zhal held me without judgment until I was sedated.
I hated myself. I genuinely hated myself.
The days following losing Kaed had been blocked out of her memory, and for once, she was content with that. There was nothing in this world she’d instead not feel, and those days were among them. If only she could erase the moment of his demise.
Why hadn’t she lost her memory this time?
Had it been Goddrick’s doing, knowing precisely what was happening and being aware that she would suffer immensely if she remembered everything?
It was as though the realms were conspiring to make her suffer more, as though she hadn’t already suffered enough.
Now, curled into a ball in bed, she cried even harder.
It wasn’t a gentle release of emotions but a broken, unfiltered torrent of sorrow.
Every inch of her trembled, and the tears that streamed from her eyes flowed like a relentless river, seeming as if they would never stop.
The dam had broken, and there was no way to repair it.
No one can fix me. You were the only one who could. I am broken. I lied. Please—
“Don’t leave me. I can’t do this—”
A rapid, urgent knocking on her door abruptly silenced her, and she fought back a whimper. Her body felt immobilized; she just wished to ignore the person on the other side. The issue was that she was a guest on this ship. If someone was seeking her out, it was for something urgent.
“Give me a moment,” she whispered, which brought another wave of knocks. “Just one moment.” She tried a bit louder, successfully quelling the next wave of knocks.
Tossing aside the blankets, she swung her legs over the bed and stood. Her bare body was drenched in sweat, even though the room was at a mild temperature.
She quickly grabbed the same black dress she’d worn for days, threw it on, and did her best to fix her hair before unlocking and opening the door.
Standing before her was an older man, his gray beard and hair showing the telltale signs of years spent at sea. Though not as captivating as hers, his blue eyes held a beauty of their own. She sensed a hint of flustered curiosity as he gazed at her and wondered if he had overheard her crying.
It was highly likely that the crew had indeed heard her. Whether it was her anguished screams during nightmares or her tearful outbursts of anger, there was no way they could have missed her emotional turmoil.
“Miss Rothwen, I apologize if I interrupted,” he said, his tone trembling. She couldn’t help but notice he was afraid of her, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. For the past four days aboard the ship, her interactions with the crew had been minimal at best.
“It’s okay. How can I help you?” She cleared her throat as she realized her voice was hoarse.
“The Captain would like to speak with you.”
“He could have come to get me himself,” she thought aloud, puzzled by the sudden request. The Captain hadn’t hesitated to see her before. “I’ll make my way to him now.”
The man stepped aside, and she closed the door behind her.
The ship itself was as standard as one could get. Weathered wooden planks, burnished with layers of sea salt, stretched beneath her feet. Large white sails loomed overhead, bearing no crests or sigils. The crew was busy performing their duties, pulling the sails and moving cargo boxes around.
She ascended to the deckhouse, taking the single stairway up. Her eyes focused only on what lay ahead, never straying to the crew or the sea.
The ship was entirely adorned in wood, from the stairway to the doors, walls, and railings.
Not a single trace of the color green caught her eye.
She couldn’t decide if it caused her more pain, or offered a fleeting respite.
The absence of the color that reminded her of home was a stark reminder of those emerald eyes that once held her in their gaze and their love for her.
I miss you so much.
She knocked gently on the Captain’s door, her eyes closing as she took a deep, meaningful breath. A rapid surge of pain had washed over her in just those few minutes since leaving her room, and she needed to center herself.
“Come in,” the voice responded, and she entered.
“Captain,” she addressed as she stepped into the deckhouse, a space that served as the Captain’s quarters, galley, and meeting room for the crew.
Maps sprawled across the massive round table, accompanied by various unfamiliar instruments that puzzled Azahara.
“You requested my presence?” she inquired.