Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“You’re wrong, Tasch.” He says it with such conviction, my throat constricts. “Because I do. I understand.”
His voice is nearly imperceptible. It’s as if I imagined he said anything at all. Like I heard his voice, when truly all I did was read his lips. The sound of his whisper was so real. A shiver runs down my spine, jolting me into a noticeable shudder.
He smiles as if he’s won something, and I don’t dare question what.
“What exactly am I distracting you from? Possessing the ability to walk up the stairs without my assistance?” Varic asks, as the smile in his voice spreads over his plush lips, and I yank my arm, which does nothing aside from encourage him to chuckle as he adjusts his grip.
A molten sort of frustration churns within my chest. Yet not with his flagrant amusement at my need for him, but rather the entire situation.
Decades of being used for my skillset. Expected by my parents to tend to their emotions from such a young age.
Making my life miserable anytime I needed something, much less wanted.
Only to be stolen away by a far crueler figure.
One who expects me to be perfect, when no witch before me has been capable of anything relative to my power.
The experience of viewing the reliefs of the Witch Queen and Dwarf King strikes me differently this time, piercing my chest with a pain so visceral, I could swear the end of a spear should be sticking out from between my ribs.
The depiction of their wedding day twists my stomach, with the joy on their faces a bittersweet reminder of just how short-lived their happiness would be after.
The way they hold hands and smile over at each other.
With the ethereal flow of her veil trailing off of a tall crown fashioned to look like Dragon wings, while the King’s bears talons—displaying their obvious reverence for the beasts.
Heart aching from the horror those intolerant few inflicted upon these two beings, decimating a family who stood for the thing the assailants feared most—unity.
Because what sort of control can one wield over a united populace? One which has learned to live in harmony by taking care of one another.
If magical beings are to gain more power, they must drive fear into the hearts of all who dissent—just as the Emperor forces me to do with my magic.
A growing ache builds within my ribs, drawing on the anger of all those who came before us.
Grieving for what should have been, and what could still be, should my power not wither and die before I can ensure it.
Because, like Hendry said, we must endure hardship and keep the Emperor in line as much as we are able, so that the citizens might have the right to a better life.
Witnessing what the Witch Queen stood for, attempting to create a world where we take care of one another, rather than continuously steal from our neighbors, the ache expands, and I cannot take much more in.
This feeling, this awareness, it is all so much bigger than myself.
Pressure builds, and it is as if generations of witches who came before me have released their collective rage inside me to contain, having experienced this same sense of grief with their own lack of freedom, while somehow choosing this moment to express it alongside my own.
This collection of feelings cannot remain trapped inside me, boiling and bubbling from the center of my stomach and up inside my chest, until it rends from me in the most terrifying growl I would have never guessed my vocal cords could form, sounding so ancient in its tone, far older than my thirty-two years on this Continent.
Relieving just enough of the pressure felt from holding more than I ever have in with the expulsion, no longer capable of caring whether anyone happens to be looking in my direction to witness my Lead Guard assist me in a way which would anger His Majesty, Varic and Lars both stare over at me with concern, while I focus on the strange sensation lingering in my chest. One which feels oddly familiar, though I cannot place it.
“I’m sorry. I do not like this any more than you do, and I am determined to get you back to health.
Until then, I need you to allow me to take care of you, Tasch,” Varic pleads under his breath.
“Only a few more steps until we reach the landing, then I can trust you to walk on your own, though I will remain close in case you need my assistance.”
I nod and stare ahead with tears brimming along my lashes. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? The fact that I need him.
Enough tables have been set in the dungeons to serve a large party, while every inch of my body screams with the need to rest. To be able to sit, and without being made to think.
As if he can read my mind, Cirrin turns to me with a knowing expression, acknowledging my depletion with the cool sensation of his healing.
Which would be more of a comfort were it to have any sort of lasting effect, rather than to be but a drop lost to the void that is my level of need at this point.
Sustenance and rest are surprisingly reviving as I stand unassisted at His Majesty’s mercy, while my Guards and I await his next command from the edge of the dance floor.
Emperor Aldritch storms toward the center of the crowd, ever-present wine goblet in hand. “Now that you have supped on the finest foods in the Empire, it is time for your entertainment!”
Applause rings out as a swarm of telekinetic soldiers marches toward us, bearing the double stripes to indicate their role as one of the elite few serving the Empire in detecting the use of unsanctioned magic.
They drag in sorcerers whose heads hang low between their shoulders, forced to don the thin Imperial black execution robes, making it easier to strip them naked before their bodies are dumped in a mass grave.
The soldiers come to a halt before His Majesty, forming a neat row where they shove the sorcerers down to kneel at his feet.
“He’s not going to make her—” Varic begins.
“I forget you haven’t witnessed her be subjected to this,” Fray says, cutting him off.
Emperor Aldritch turns away from the crowd with a cough while his healer, Mille, sends a plume of blue magic to infiltrate his chest cavity.
He takes longer than usual to recover, though he returns his attention to the audience as if nothing has happened, sneering at the sorcerers kneeling before him.
“These citizens disgust me. Using unsanctioned magic is a despicable, treasonous act. Yet each of them chose to disgrace our Empire, spitting on the traditions we must abide by for a more prosperous commonwealth.”
Youthful faces and those with deep-set wrinkles exemplify the range in age among the accused, the youngest of which must be around Varic’s age of thirty, while the rest might be nearing the Emperor, who only recently turned seventy.
“What do we know of their purpose?” Varic asks, and my heart lurches while I send a tendril of fear to deter him.
“There isn’t a purpose in refusing to abide by the decree, Imperial Lead Guard Varic,” Emperor Aldritch sneers, and my blood runs cold when his eyes find mine, commanding me to perform my act.
Cirrin imbues me with energy, maintaining our connection with his hand on the small of my back as a tingling sensation ripples through my mind while she moves to the forefront, fists clenching around thousands of pulsating tendrils of fear I’ve held within the depths of my being.
All of which she expels until they wriggle beneath the skin of each kneeling sorcerer, who writhe and whimper while I stand still with focus.
However, His Majesty demanded we entertain his audience, so while my magic does not require such movement, I thrust my hands out, palms facing the ceiling, and outstretch my fingers in a dramatic fashion as I send more fear, with the addition of anguish, coiling both in a rope to pierce the hearts of the supposed traitors.
Muffled cries fill my ears as she draws out the worst of their nightmares and most terrifying thoughts until the sorcerers shake so hard some fall to their sides, staring over at me while their screams rise.
The collection of pain and agony pierces my shield of numbness, melting the thick layer of ice a lifetime of cruelty formed around my heart.
I recall my magic and shake from the effort, despite Cirrin’s healing. I return to myself as she retreats to the recesses.
“Tell us your purpose in using unsanctioned magic when you understand the consequence,” Varic commands the sorcerers scattered around the stone floor.
“More,” His Majesty commands, turning from my Lead Guard to myself.