Chapter 8 #2
No warmth.
“Did you sleep with him too?” he asked quietly. “Was that part of the plan?”
Seraphae opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She simply stared at him.
Aldric’s voice hardened.
“You were all in on it.”
Seraphae nodded slightly.
“Yes, of course.”
Silence filled the chamber.
“We didn’t want Evereth to suspect anything. There was no time to explain.”
He barely heard her.
The only thing echoing in his mind was—
You’re not important enough to be told.
You’re just a tool.
You wouldn’t understand demon court politics.
We kept you out of it for your own good.
The edges of Aldric’s vision darkened.
His breathing deepened.
His fists tightened.
Seraphae stepped closer.
“My love,” she said gently. “We were protecting you. We had to act quickly.”
Aldric exploded.
“By treating me like a fucking pawn?”
The words tore out of him.
“Spare me.”
She flinched.
“Aldric—”
“Ever since I came here,” he continued, voice shaking with anger, “it’s been nothing but chaos, secrets and endless drama.”
“Aldric,” she said softly. “This is not you. It’s the brand talking. Please. I’ here. This is not you—”
The rage surged.
In a heartbeat he was in front of her.
His hands shot out and grabbed her arms.
Hard.
“Don’t patronize me!” he snarled. “First the brand. Then the dragon. Then the oracle. Then this.”
His grip tightened.
“Every time I think I understand where I stand… you pull the ground out from under me—You don’t want to guide me. I’m sick and tired of being left in the dark!”
The last words didn’t sound like his voice anymore.
Something darker bled through it.
Seraphae looked up at him.
Her golden eyes widened.
And in them—
he saw something he had never seen before.
Fear.
“Aldric… my love, I understand but please stop,” she whispered. “You’re scaring me.”
He didn’t let go.
“Don’t you understand what I went through to be with you? Why do you treat me this way? I gave up everything for you,” he said through clenched teeth. “My life. My home. Everything. And this is what I get in return? Being used?”
“Aldric… please let go.”
But he didn’t.
Because a part of him didn’t want to.
That dark part of him liked it.
Liked the control.
Liked seeing the effect he had on her.
That for once he was in control.
Something cold stirred inside his chest.
His vision flooded with red.
“Aldric… please…”
For a moment the grip lessened.
Her voice cut through.
He saw her.
No.
She needs to understand.
Why can’t she understand?
Why is she against me?
And suddenly—
his senses sharpened.
He heard it.
Heavy footsteps in the corridor outside.
Voices.
A hand slammed against the door.
Another.
Wood splintered.
An axe bit into the frame.
But Aldric barely noticed.
His grip tightened.
Seraphae’s eyes were wide now.
Frightened.
Then—
hands grabbed him by the shoulders.
Someone shouting.
Darkness swallowed everything.
? ? ?
Stone.
Cold.
Aldric’s eyes opened slowly.
The last thing he remembered was rage.
Powerlessness.
Frustration.
Then darkness.
The sky above him was pale and gray.
Wind brushed against his face.
He was lying on rough stone.
Outside.
Cliffside.
Movement.
Two figures stood nearby.
Aldric forced his head up.
Goroth.
The demon king stood like a statue carved from iron. His massive two-handed sword rested across his shoulder. His eyes… dark.
“I almost grew fond of you… I was about to ask when you would propose to her…”
He wasn’t moving.
But his hand trembled slightly.
The other figure stepped closer.
Mareth.
He crouched down so they were almost eye level.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“The only reason you’re not a deadman, is because the moment we came in… she begged us not to tear every limb from your body.”
Goroth let out a low grunt.
Aldric tried to speak.
His throat felt like sand.
For a moment nothing came out.
Then—
“D-did I hurt her?”
Mareth tilted his head slightly.
“Physically? No. You didn’t manage to. That’s the other reason you’re still breathing.” He shrugged faintly. “We pulled you off her and pinned you to the ground just as you blacked out.”
Aldric closed his eyes for a moment.
Something that almost sounded like thank you escaped his lips.
Mareth either didn’t hear it—
or chose not to.
He continued.
“If you ever show your face in Nerathys again… we will kill you.”
The words were delivered without anger.
Without hesitation.
Just fact.
“This one time,” Mareth added quietly, “we spare your life because of my sister.”
Silence settled between them.
Aldric didn’t move.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t even look up.
After a moment, Mareth stood.
“Go, and live the rest of your days far away from here.”
They didn’t wait for him to respond.
Mareth turned first.
Goroth followed.
Both of them walked away without another word.
Silence swallowed the cliffside.
For a moment, Aldric’s mind held nothing.
Just empty space.
Then anger stirred, a familiar heat beginning to rise inside him.
But something else crushed it before it could grow.
I—I almost hurt her.
My Rae.
The thought struck him like a hammer.
His chest tightened so violently it felt as though something inside him might split open.
His throat was dry, raw.
He sat there with his forearms resting on his knees, head bowed low.
His vision blurred.
How could I do this to her?
How could I lose control like that?
Something bitter laughed in the back of his mind.
Because you never had control in the first place.
Because you lied to yourself.
The thought lingered like poison.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
And then another thought surfaced.
Nimble.
The chunky, piglet-like dog trotting through the palace halls.
Panting happily whenever he spotted him.
Curling under his duvet with that exaggerated, contented sigh.
How would they tell him?
That he wasn’t coming back.
That he was gone.
Aldric swallowed hard.
His vision blurred.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.
He had grown fond of the dog.
Nimble was always there.
Always in the background.
Just… a companion.
Aldric simply sat there on the cold stone.
Completely lost.
Time passed.
Hours.
Maybe longer.
He didn’t return to Nerathys.
Not because Mareth and Goroth had threatened him.
No.
They could kill him if they wished.
That wasn’t what stopped him.
What truly stopped him… was her.
Aldric could not bear the thought of standing before those once loving golden eyes…
…and seeing fear in them.
He could not bear to see the pain he had put there.
So he walked.
He left the cliffs behind and wandered into the wastes.
Days passed.
Then more.
At first he tried to keep to the old habits of a knight, straight back, steady steps, purpose in his stride.
But purpose slowly slipped away.
Hunger crept in its place.
He dug roots from the dry ground with dirty fingers.
Chewed bitter plants that tasted like dust.
Sometimes he found a trickle of water between cracked stones.
Most days he found nothing.
His tunic grew dull beneath layers of grime.
His once proud posture slowly bent forward.
The knight faded.
In his place walked something else.
A wanderer.
A ghost.
His hair grew long.
His beard thick and uneven.
He stopped counting the days and weeks.
He slept beneath the open sky.
Sometimes he woke in the night and stared at the stars, wondering if death might come quietly while he slept.
But it never did.
No beast in the Demon Wastes touched him.
Not once.
Even the scavengers kept their distance.
One night he laughed.
A dry, broken sound that cracked in the empty dark.
Then it turned into something else.
A shout.
A broken, hoarse scream that tore from his throat.
“Why won’t you let me die?” he screamed into the darkness. “What more do you want from me?”
The sound echoed across the barren wasteland and faded into nothing.
No answer came.
He tilted his head toward the cold stars, chest heaving.
“The gods must truly hate me…”
More days passed.
More wandering.
Until one evening he climbed a jagged ridge and stepped onto a rocky ledge.
The wind shifted.
Hot.
Dry.
He lifted his eyes.
Beyond the cliff—
The land ended.
And before him stretched a sea of sand.
Silent.
Endless.
He gathered what little he could before leaving the last rocky ridge behind. Some bitter roots and a handful of swollen scorched fruits, their flesh thick with water.
Enough to carry him across.
Maybe.
He didn’t know why the desert felt right.
Only that something inside him pulled him forward.
He was alone now.
Truly.
The sand shifted beneath his boots as he walked.
The sun burned mercilessly above him.
After a while, the question crept into his mind.
Why am I even walking through this hell?
A small voice answered.
Because you have nothing to lose.
You have no one.
Aldric smiled bitterly.
The sand was already beginning to burn through the soles of his boots.
Still he kept walking.
The first night was freezing.
The desert stole the heat from his bones the moment the sun vanished.
Yet somehow he managed to sleep each night.
The fourth night came.
And with it, the last of the fruits.
The following evening he climbed a particularly high dune.
When he reached the top, he stopped.
Sand.
Only sand.
The horizon stretched in every direction, a vast ocean of golden dunes where the sky met the earth.
He laughed.
A dry, tired sound.
“So this is it.”
He sank down into the sand.
Tired.
Dirty.
Broken.
His eyes rested on the distant line where the sand kissed the sky.
Strangely…
Part of him felt calm.
He laughed again, softer this time.
Funny… I haven’t felt anger since that night.
Maybe that’s for the better that I left.
Her face suddenly flashed across his mind.
Golden eyes.
Warm.
Loving.
He shook his head sharply.
No.
I don’t want to remember.
He opened his eyes again and stared at the empty horizon.
Time passed.
The wind shifted.
The tiredness slowly began to creep through his body.
His eyelids grew heavy.
Then—
He heard it.
A sound carried by the wind.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
It sounded like—
Panting?
Aldric’s brow furrowed.
That sound…
It was familiar.
A moment later something nudged him.
Hard.
Right between the shoulders.
Aldric turned slowly.
Nimble.