CHAPTER 1 — “Unanimous” #3
I believe him. That’s the terrible thing. I absolutely believe him.
Twenty years of friendship. Thirty years of knowing Dario. Twelve years of marriage to Persephone. All of it—every memory, every moment, every time I thought “at least I have them”—and this is how it ends. Not in battle. Not against some great evil.
In a quiet conversation after the war’s already won.
“Then we vote,” Dario says. “All in favor of removing Velthar Ashworth from the party. Permanently.”
Removing. Permanently. Still not saying the word. Still dressing it up in clean language.
Just say it, you coward. Say you want to murder me.
“Aye,” Sylva says. Immediate. Casual. Like she’s voting on where to eat dinner.
“Aye,” Anton agrees. Bored.
A longer pause. Then Gorath, heavy and reluctant: “…Aye.”
Something in my chest cracks at that one. Gorath, who I pulled out of a collapsing dungeon. Gorath, who I healed when no one else could. Gorath, who told me once that he’d follow me into hell itself.
Turns out that was a lie too.
“Seph?”
Persephone takes a breath. I can picture her perfectly even with my eyes closed—the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s thinking, the way she stands with her weight on one hip, the little furrow between her brows.
I know her so well.
I don’t know her at all.
“Aye,” she says, soft and certain, and that’s the one that breaks something inside me. Not cracks. Breaks. Some fundamental part of who I am, shattered like glass on stone.
“Then it’s unanimous.” Dario’s voice is closer now. Moving toward me. “I’ll make it quick. He won’t feel anything.”
Won’t feel anything.
I feel everything.
I feel the whisper of movement as he draws his sword—my sword, the one I enchanted for him, spent eight months perfecting because I wanted to keep him safe.
I feel the shift in air pressure as he raises it over my body.
I feel the cold certainty settling into my bones that this is really happening, this is really how it ends, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Move. Come on. MOVE.
My body doesn’t respond. Can’t respond. Something’s wrong, something’s—
The wine.
Persephone’s wine. The Valdrassian Red I like.
She poisoned me.
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────┐│ STATUS EFFECT ││ \[Paralytic Venom --- Lethal\] │├─────────────────────────────────────────────────┤│ Source: Ingested (Wine) ││ Duration: Until death or system intervention ││ ││ Compound: Anton's Special Blend ││ └─ Undetectable by taste or smell ││ └─ Resistant to magical purification ││ └─ Specifically designed to counter high-INT ││ targets with poison resistance ││ ││ "They really thought this through.
││ Almost impressive. If it wasn't, you know, ││ completely fucked up.
" │└─────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
Anton’s special blend. Designed specifically for me. They’ve been planning this—not just tonight, not just since the Demon Lord fell. They’ve been planning this for months. Maybe years.
The wine was always the plan.
The celebration was always the cover.
And I drank it down like the trusting idiot I am.
“I know you’re awake.”
Dario’s voice, directly above me now. I open my eyes—can’t stop myself, can’t do anything else—and there he is. My best friend since childhood. The man I’d have died for a thousand times over.
Standing over me with a sword in his hand and pity in his eyes.
“The poison doesn’t quite stop that,” he continues, almost apologetic. “The awareness, I mean. Anton said you’d probably be conscious. I’m sorry about that. I wanted it to be peaceful.”
I try to speak. Can’t. My tongue sits dead in my mouth.
“I want you to know—I really did love you. Like a brother. You and me against the world, remember? That wasn’t fake.
” He crouches down, and for a moment he looks like the boy I grew up with.
The one who shared his bread when I was starving.
The one who promised we’d always have each other’s backs.
“But you were always going to be a problem, Vel. Too smart. Too powerful. Too good. People like you don’t stay in the shadows forever. Eventually, you’d want what’s yours.”
I wouldn’t.
I never wanted the glory. Never wanted the credit. I just wanted to help. To matter. To be part of something bigger than myself.
I just wanted to be loved.
“Seph loves me,” he says, like he’s explaining something simple to a child. “Has for years. And I love her. We tried to fight it—we really did—but some things are just… meant to be.” He shrugs, almost helpless. “You understand, don’t you? You were always the understanding one.”
I understand that you’re a coward.
I understand that you took everything I ever had and decided it still wasn’t enough.
I understand that I’m going to die on this floor, surrounded by people I would have died for, and not a single one of them gives a shit.
“Goodbye, brother.”
The blade rises.
I feel Persephone’s hand slip into mine, warm and familiar, squeezing gently the way she always does when I’m hurting. Offering comfort. Like she’s not the one who poisoned me. Like she’s not the one who voted yes.
“It’s better this way, my love,” she whispers, and her voice breaks on the last word. Almost sounds sincere. “You’ve suffered so much. Let go. Finally have some peace.”
Peace.
She’s offering me peace while I choke on her betrayal.
The blade falls.
There’s pain.
More than I knew existed. More than I thought a body could hold.
And then—
Nothing.
Just darkness, and silence, and the distant echo of Persephone crying.
Probably over Dario’s shoulder.
Bitch.