Chapter 23
Pain spreads through my body and I awake gasping for breath. Sweat drips down my forehead, and my entire body is drenched. I frown, and for a moment I don’t know where I am or what happened.
There is a sense that I am forgetting something essential. But soon that sensation vanishes until all that’s left behind is confusion and…pain.
I swing my legs over the bed. Blood rushes to my legs, making me feel lightheaded.
Zantrax’s side effects supposedly affect mortals differently, and if this pain is any indication, then I don’t know how they bear it. Even when I was at my worst, suffering both from illness and injuries, I don’t think I’ve felt as wretched.
But given that Miss Moe—no, Moe—is safe, all the pain is worth it.
Still disoriented, I get up and change my clothes before leaving my room.
The moment I open the door, a sweet smell wafts toward me. Entranced, I follow its trail, which leads me straight to the kitchen.
Moe is behind the kitchen counter, fiddling with some hot bread. She places it quickly on a plate, making small noises as the heat burns her fingers.
I stand in the shadows, hidden behind a wall as I keep watching.
She seems a bit disoriented in the kitchen, which I don’t blame her for.
Despite the fact that the house was built thousands of years ago, it was designed with the latest rune technology available—some of which is still considered top-tier in certain parts of the country.
Mortals wouldn’t have access to the same specifications, so it must have taken a bit of trial and error for her to understand how to operate the oven.
After the bread is done, she covers it with a cloth and goes back to the oven, opening it to reveal a tray full of different cuts of meat. Next, she grabs a pan off the stove and pours some type of sauce over the meat.
I gulp down uneasily. I did not have too many food items in the house, so for her to be able to make something like this…
I must do better!
Now that she’s here, in my home, I must ensure she wants for nothing. And that means finding a way to earn more money.
Clearing my throat, I stride into the kitchen.
Her gaze whips up, eyes wide as she stares at me.
“Smells amazing,” I praise softly.
Her lips tremble as she forces a smile. “I’m glad you like it,” she replies in a quiet voice. “If you’re hungry, take a seat and I’ll bring it over.”
I nod and head to the table. My instinct is to go help her, but I temper it down. She only accepted to remain here because she has something to do. I can’t take her purpose away from her, no matter how uncomfortable I may feel.
She comes over with two plates and cutlery before she divides the food onto the plates.
My stomach grumbles in hunger as more of that delicious smell wafts to my nose. And she was able to do this with a few ingredients. If she had more… better quality, more diversity, I bet she’d be able to make the absolute best dishes.
I’ve never paid much attention to my food, mostly because I’ve never been able to afford much so I focused on quantity over quality. But from now on, this must change.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Once more, she gives me a strained smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You’re feeling better?”
“I have a bit of a headache, but this should help,” I say as I dig in. The sauce is more of a vegetable stew, with bits and pieces of starches and some greens. I mix the stew with the meat and take a bite.
“This is wonderful. Absolutely amazing,” I praise honestly.
She nods, taking small bites of her own food.
As I reach for the fresh bread, she does the same, and our hands meet midair. Our fingers touch lightly, before she pulls her hand backward as if burned.
“Go ahead,” she murmurs, not meeting my gaze.
I frown at her reaction, but don’t think much of it. Instead, I grab a piece of bread, break it in half and place it next to her plate before getting mine.
We finish eating in relative silence.
As she takes away the dishes, I once more want to offer to wash them, but stop myself before uttering the words.
Instead, I clear my throat and say, “I doubt there’s a lot of food left in the house. We should go buy some.”
She glances at me in surprise. For a moment she seems pensive, almost as if she’s about to refuse.
“You’re right. I used everything I could find for this meal.”
“I’ll go take a shower and change. Meet me here in an hour?”
Her eyes are wide as she stares at me, a hint of pink on her cheeks. I scratch the back of my head, wondering if I said something wrong.
“All right,” she murmurs softly.
I do all my ablutions and change before meeting up with her again in the living room. She’s dressed in an outdoor dress too, with a light brown coat on top.
My instinct is to take her arm as we head out, but as I get near her, she takes a step away from me. Perhaps it’s too early for such intimacies.
We walk side by side, making small talk. She asks me a few questions regarding Zantrax and I confirm that my abilities have mostly lost their strength. All throughout, she nods absentmindedly, almost as if she’s not paying much attention to the conversation.
The grocery run is swift. I’d like nothing more than to drag it out so I can spend more time in her presence, but she’s quick and efficient. She knows exactly which stalls to go to, what to ask for and in what quantities.
In less than two hours, we’re back at the house with a few bags full of vegetables, starches and some meat—all of which set me back quite a few slovas.
Moe busies herself in the kitchen, taking the items out of the bags and arranging them on the shelves while I mentally do some calculations for my remaining budget. With her weekly wage and household expenses…
Damn it! My salary alone won’t be able to cover everything, and the last thing I want is to tell Moe she must buy cheaper items. No, that’s out of the question. So I must find a different way to solve this issue.
My short vacation comes to an end—far too soon.
Yet despite the fact that I was at home all day, my interactions with Moe were limited.
Somehow we never crossed ways around the house aside from meal-times, which is quite unfortunate.
I had hoped we could spend some more time together so we could get to know each other better.
I don’t want to force the issue, though, and make her feel uncomfortable. So I’ll have to wait until a better opportunity comes along.
For now, I’m back at work as usual.
As I arrive at the War Department, I’m instructed to go get another check-up by the healer.
“Nykander, welcome! How have you been?” Kendra, the healer, greets me.
“Good. My vision is back to normal.”
“That’s great to hear. Let me do a quick check up for you,” she says and motions for me to sit down on the exam chair.
“I’ve inquired with some colleagues about the seal and so far none of them have any knowledge of how to undo it. However, there was one colleague who thought he might know what it is,” she starts.
“Really?”
“He has never seen one in real life, but he said he read about something similar, some five thousand years ago, in ancient Tartareian archives.”
“Ancient archives?” I frown. I’ve never heard of something like that before.
She nods. “The archives are controlled by the ruling house, and they contain information from hundreds of thousands years ago. Unfortunately, they are not open to the public and it is very hard to get approval to read them even if you’re a scholar.
The person in question was doing research on something different so he only glimpsed those files. ”
My lips flatten into a thin line. My mother must have had access to those archives to use the seal on me, but saying that would betray my connection with the House of Jubal.
“His advice was to either try to apply for clearance to view the archives or to find a scholar who works with old rituals.”
“Both options sound rather difficult.”
“I know,” she mentions with a sad smile. “I wish I had better news than this. But don’t give up. I’m sure we can find something in time.”
Right… In time. But how much time do I have?
Kendra starts my check up, hovering her hands over my body from head to toe. Her brows furrow in confusion, and she looks deep in thought as she takes a step back.
“Have you been doing anything unusual lately?”
I freeze. Can she… Can she tell I used Zantrax?
“Why?” I ask hesitantly.
“The seal. There’s something different about it,” she mumbles. Still pensive, she repeats the procedure, this time slower, concentrating more on my core.
“Yes, the seal has weakened. I’m sure of it.”
“What?”
“There are cracks all around it,” she mentions. Waving her hand, she projects an image of a sphere in front of me. “This is what I see inside of you.”
“This is the seal?”
“This is how it was initially. Now it’s like this.”
Suddenly hairline fractures appear all over the sphere. They’re not deep enough to make it crack, though.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly.
It’s the Zantrax, isn’t it? It must have caused these hairline fractures when I used external energy.
“This is amazing! I wonder if the contact with the true form had something to do with it,” she adds excitedly.
“Regardless, if more cracks appear, the seal might actually break by itself. This is… I must make a record of this. Perhaps I can write a paper on it when the seal breaks and—” She continues to ramble on about the implications of such a momentous event and what that might mean for her career—and for my lifespan, of course.
“We will keep this under surveillance, but you must come here every week, all right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” I say. On the one hand I’m feeling a tiny bit guilty for lying about the source of the fractures, on the other hand a small sense of excitement blooms inside of me. Perhaps there is hope after all for me.
That excitement follows me throughout the day as I complete my work obligations. Yet in the back of my mind, a dilemma continues: how can I make more money?
Now that I have renewed hope for the future, and that I might live for many years to come, I want to share that life with my Moe.
Just thinking about it makes me giddy from head to toe.
We might not have interacted as much as I would have liked in the past week, but even those shared moments during meals meant so much to me.
Having her near, knowing she is safe and well does wonders for my mood—and for my sleep.
I don’t think I’ve had such a restful sleep before. Of course, that also has to do with those sweet dreams in which I imagine us closer, skin to skin…
Just thinking about it gets my blood pumping toward a specific region of my body.
Damn it!
I cover my mouth with my hand, my entire face flushed.
Finishing my work, I get ready to leave, excited to get home for dinner.
But as I exit the building, I hear a commotion around the corner.
“How many times have I told you to stop loitering around here?” Someone shouts.
Moving closer, I see one of the officers holding another male by his shirt and shaking him.
“If you continue like this, I’ll have no other recourse than to have you arrested.”
“You’d do this to your brother?” The male in his grasp cries out.
“Yes! You’re at my place of work, Teras! You’re causing issues for me.”
Seeing that it’s a family feud, I silently walk away.
“What trouble am I causing? I’m just giving people another option! As if I don’t know the pittance wages you have!”
“The option you’re giving is against the law! Mercenary work is illegal!”
“Only in some instances! Smaller jobs are not illegal! And they pay more than you make in months, sometimes a year!”
The sound of their voices continues to reach my ears, and the word mercenary gives me pause.
I’d heard some things about that line of work.
Warriors at lower levels would take on mercenary assignments both for the pay and to gain more experience, the ultimate goal being to reach level five and join the army, then level nine so they gain the title of a Son of Tenebreis.
Elysand has often spoken badly about them, mostly because mercenaries are not regulated the same way other warriors are. There is also the matter of the nature of the assignments—some of them including assassinations, which are illegal.
As I walk home, though, the idea of mercenary work continues to plague me. I’m not sure exactly what it pays, but if what that man said is true, then it could solve all of my financial woes.
But do I dare do it?
It’s dangerous work. Not only do I not have a lot of experience in the matter, but I would have to rely on Zantrax to complete any assignment.
But isn’t this what you need to do? My inner voice argues.
To further weaken the seal, I must consume more Zantrax. If I were to use those temporary abilities to earn more money, that would be an added bonus.
Perhaps I should…
Before I know it, I stop walking. I glance behind me and watch that male, Teras, leave dejectedly.
He’s a few steps behind me, when I suddenly turn.
“Excuse me,” I say hesitantly.
He looks up and mutters something under his breath. He doesn’t seem to be interested in what I have to say so I quickly add, “About that mercenary work—”
Immediately, his face brightens.
“Interested?”
The knowledge that I’m about to embark on something dangerous and illegal makes me want to say no and move on. Instead, I reply, “Please tell me more.”