8. Killian
Killian
Isensed her fear like something living, potent and humming beneath her skin.
I’d cowed the scholar, frightening her into the compliance I wanted.
So why did guilt curl through me like smoke?
I’d only done what I always did. As prince of my people I was used to bullying and manipulating until I got my way.
It was a flaw I’d tried to change, yet it drove me to dig deep for treasure, all the while knowing that something terrible lay at the core of the world.
But I’d craved knowledge and power. Most of all I wanted the subjugation of every realm beneath the towering will of giants.
Greed devoured me whole. We had enough. More than enough.
Mountains of gold that spilled on the ground, silver flowing swift as rivers.
Yet satisfaction remained forever beyond reach until I’d paid the ultimate price.
Not only me, I’d obliterated an entire race.
The weight of it still pressed heavily against me, along with an urgency.
I felt them, their desire for freedom and vengeance.
They were starving. Hungry. So hungry. When they escaped, they would consume the entire world.
Though the door was the main entrance, there were other holes, other ways to weaken the barrier, for twos and threes to find their way out.
To come after me, to stop me before I stopped them.
I glanced down at the scholar as we reached the rune-covered stones leading out of my lost kingdom.
Grand processions on winged beasts used to pass here, but the vast city was covered in ash, replaced by the smoking volcano.
The stone structures that had reached to the heavens were shattered monuments, reduced to ash-choked rubble.
Shifting away from the memories, I sealed that part of myself behind a door in my mind and turned the lock.
The past was the past. It was over. Done.
I’d spent the end of days chained to the archway, fire pouring from my soul as I roared and raged.
Regret had done nothing for me then. It wouldn’t help me now.
The scholar wanted my story, but in telling it I’d open a thousand wounds.
You made her cry.
The scolding voice in my head jolted me back. I peered down at Jasper, who trotted beside me, emanating reproach as best a hellhound could. I shrugged, refusing the guilt. Then comfort her yourself.
The disappointed echo resonated in my mind as Jasper padded up beside the scholar, nudging her leg with his nose until she halted.
She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, carefully avoiding me as she bent to lift Jasper.
Even tear-stained and defiant, there was something dignified about the way she held herself.
“You poor thing,” she murmured. “That was a long walk for a puppy.”
She cuddled him to her chest, then eyed the archway. “Will the runes keep me from passing?”
“Not this time.” I raised my hand. “Dimittas.”
The runes flickered to life. Still, she wavered, so I strode through first, leading the way. I felt her following, almost stumbling in her haste to stay close to me. Fear drove her forward. Nothing more.
Only after we descended the hill did I acknowledge my uncertainty.
The land had changed drastically since I’d last seen it.
Trees towered high, hiding the mountains.
There was a scent in the air, hints of water.
The world had aged without me. I needed time to reorient myself to it, to find the roots that would lead me straight and true.
For now, I turned back to the scholar, who quickly averted her gaze, though not before I caught her staring.
I’d felt it often, the heat of her gaze like a brand on my skin.
“Which way, scholar?”
She pressed her lips together, weighing the options. “I have a hut,” she said at last. “Close to the beach. We’ll go there.”
She set off, steps certain and swift, as though she were eager to forget what she’d witnessed. Then she looked over her shoulder, her long black hair dancing in the breeze. “Call me Ilaris.”
Ilaris. Yes. She’d given me her name earlier, but I’d dismissed it.
Calling her scholar put distance between us.
Names were beautiful, powerful, intimate.
The syllables of hers settled into me like an ember finding kindling.
Did she know what she was offering when she gave me her name?
Did she understand I would carry it, whether I wanted to or not?
We followed a dirt path, hollow echoes of my past rising like ghosts, unseen but their presence lingering.
Great redwood trees rose, their roots long, their trunks so thick I couldn’t see around them.
Seeing the land like this, vibrant, alive, made the full weight of what I’d missed settle against me.
The land, shifting, yielding, growing, changing.
The way the great kingdom I was to inherit was now ash.
Life had gone on, always, without me. Without us.
Moisture thickened the air. The trees gave way to grassy hills, far-reaching meadows, and then a sparkling expanse. Water covered by a veil of mist as far as the eye could see. We were at a bay, sand stretching onward, pale as bones.
She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it because of the roaring in my ears.
The weight grew heavier. Unbearable. My breath came short and fast, fingers curling into fists.
I’d tried to ignore it since I woke, the magnitude of knowledge, of being the only one left, of coming back to life thousands upon thousands of years later.
It slammed into me like a beast I should fight. The need to rip, to tear, to do anything other than be reasonable, came over me. I couldn’t be around her like this, couldn’t be restrained, couldn’t explain anything. I needed to be alone. I needed to get away.
Without a word, I ran. Bare feet pounding over the meadow and stone, ignoring the stabs of pain as I fled.
Faster. Faster. As though I could outrun my past, my decisions, my biggest regret.
Outrun it all. Sand flew up beneath my feet, but I didn’t stop, didn’t allow it to slow my progress.
I hurled myself headfirst into the water, breathing in its salty brine, and let myself sink.
My fists punched uselessly at water. Raw screams erupting from my chest, swallowed by the depths. No one could hear me. No one could see me. No one could save me.
This was my punishment. To return to a world that had forgotten me, carrying the weight of those who never would.