Chapter Thirteen #4
He pulled his focus from the darkness and favored her with a smirk.
“It may surprise you to know I did choose the people over a friend once. Save for merging with the Cat’s Eye, confessing Vessik’s sins to Saelihn was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
I felt like I’d betrayed him. Saelihn demanded his arrest and was fit to send the whole of the Red Sentinel upon him, but I begged her to let us talk to him one last time.
We were practically family, after all. I was convinced that Imri, Benjamin, and I could make him surrender, make him turn himself in, spare him death at the hands of the R.S. ”
Her stomach sank. Gods. The only reason he, Imri, and Ben were alone with Vessik that fateful night was because Sikras had requested it.
“I sought him out,” he continued. “We went to his hiding place. We talked. Vessik sounded so broken, so remorseful, said he’d turn himself in but that he wanted one more night with his dearest friends before rotting in a cell.
I thought we’d done it, fixed it. So, we drank.
Promised we’d figure everything out. I got up to take a piss, ran back when I heard screaming.
” Sikras trailed off, frowning. “I’d seen blood before.
Seen battles. It always looks like so much more when it’s leaking from the bodies of your loved ones.
Imri was on the ground, motionless. Benjamin was bleeding out but still fighting, still swinging his sword with everything he had.
I should’ve helped him fight Vessik, but my senses were so disorganized, so sloppy, so dulled by booze.
All I could think about was Imri. I hit my knees, crawled to her, tried to call her soul back, but I felt . .. nothing.”
A chill raised the hairs on the back of Helspira’s neck.
“Her soul wasn’t in Enos,” Sikras said. “And when her eyes shot open, and her corpse sat up, I knew Vessik got to her first. I couldn’t raise my hand against her, couldn’t strike my—” A strained, bleak laugh left him, and his throat bobbed when he swallowed.
“Under Vessik’s command, she killed me. Grabbed a poker from the fireplace and ran it right through my heart. ”
Helspira gasped. “I ... I can’t imagine what that must’ve ...”
“I came back, of course. One of the perks of playing host to the Cat’s Eye.
By the time my spirit settled back in my body, and the Cat’s Eye healed my wounds, Benjamin was on the floor, gasping, gagging.
It should’ve been impossible for Vessik to best him.
Vessik wasn’t a fighter, never was, but he kept casting spell after spell, barely affected by the magical backlash.
When Ben fell, I couldn’t help him. Never learned healing spells.
That was always Imri’s domain. To this day, I’ll never know why my resurgence from death startled Vessik.
But after he looked at me, he and Imri just .
.. walked out of the room. Nothing said.
It was the strangest thing. I couldn’t dwell on it, of course, I had to focus on Ben.
Had to get to his soul first. I held his hand until he died, and . .. I never let him go again.”
“Sikras, that’s ...” Helspira sat back on her palms and blew a stream of air through her lips. “That’s a lot to take in. To think Vessik could betray you like that.”
“I know it sounds stupid. I’ve heard it for four years.
It should be easy to kill him. Vessik is a tyrant.
A murderer responsible for the deaths of thousands.
But even after everything, I still see the boy who dove into a rushing river to save a dog from being swept away.
I see the young man who gave a beggar the last coin in his pocket when he, himself, was on the brink of starvation.
I see the man who saved me. Saelihn asks me to kill a tyrant, but she also asks me to kill the man he used to be. And that man was a dear, dear friend.”
She stared, lost to the difficulty of imagining a man she had only ever known as a murderer to harbor any redeeming qualities. “Vessik really did all those gallant things?”
“Once upon a time, yes. Life knocked him down so many times. At first, I thought he just got tired of standing back up, so he decided to drag the rest of the world down with him. But it wasn’t life’s little punches that made him a monster.
It was me. All he ever wanted was the power to help people, but I got us kicked out of our wizardry apprenticeship, I robbed him of the Cat’s Eye, and then I left him alone.
I wasn’t there to stop whatever darkness was spreading inside him.
I should’ve been there to talk to him, to say whatever it was he needed to hear.
” He trailed off and sighed. “I should’ve been there. He would’ve been there for me.”
Helspira shook her head. “You can’t blame yourself for words left unsaid.”
“I can, and I do. In the battles I fought for Saelihn, I witnessed every weapon imaginable. Halberds, crossbows, toxin-tipped spears, enchanted flails, blades infused with the power of ice and flame. There is nothing more powerful than words, and not just the ones that initiate spells. Words can start a war, or break someone’s heart, or turn children into monsters.
They cut deeper than any metal. Spread faster than any poison.
Perhaps most frightening of all, anyone can wield them, and precious few know just how powerful they can be.
But words can heal as much as they hurt. And I let him suffer in silence.”
“It’s unfair for you to take responsibility for his actions. Don’t you think it’s possible that Vessik changed for the worst, and you just misread him?”
All traces of Sikras’s vulnerability vanished with a smirk. “There are countless things in which I lack skill, but reading people is not one of them.”
“Any chance you’re not as good at reading people as you think?”
“Nah. It’s one of the few things of which I’m sure these days.” His playful expression shifted into a sincere smile. “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”
The question rolled her stomach, and she looked away. “You can’t always trust people just because they did a good thing once or twice.”
As if he sensed an untold story, he gestured for her to continue.
Helspira grimaced. “Do you know what a diavolos is?” she whispered into the dark.
“Do I ever.” Sikras nodded. “I’m familiar with all the beings who consume or manipulate souls in some way. It’s all Death goes on about. But diavoli, yeah, the spawn of a mortal and a deity. They live in Chthonia, yes?”
“Mostly. They mainly stick to Chthonia given how aggressively humans hunt them, but with their wings, they’re one of the few creatures who can fly up through the openings to walk Siaphara’s soil.”
“I wager there’s a reason you’re mentioning them?” he asked, brows raised.
“I trusted a diavolos to bring my parents and I to the surface. To fly us up, one by one. I bargained with him. Diavoli love bargains. I did everything he asked. He stayed true to his word, flew my parents and I out of Chthonia, but ... ” She wrapped her arms around her body.
“I wasn’t right to trust him, Sikras. I thought he was good, just misunderstood, like me, like my parents, like the others in Chthonia with softer hearts.
I was wrong. As soon as he got us out of Chthonia, as soon as he upheld his end of the bargain, he turned on us.
My mum had to kill him. I thought I got her out of Chthonia in time, but—I’m convinced that was the day she snapped, the day she lost the last bit of her . ..”
It seemed he waited for her to elaborate, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t relive those memories. He did not force her. Even in the face of her secrecy, his optimism remained. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I still don’t think I’m wrong about you though.”
Her insides squeezed. Gods, she hoped his trust was well placed.
As the overhead stars swam in the nebulous sky, Helspira leaned back. With tomorrow on the horizon, the weight of the scroll in her satchel, and the inevitable rendezvous with the Red Sentinel, only time would tell.