Chapter 59 #4
“Because of Zion,” he replied, finally taking a deep breath, as if surfacing from his nightmares. “I got up and walked to the surface because I knew I had a son. He was my only purpose, and I decided to live for the child I saw in Ravena’s thoughts. But I failed him too. I failed them both.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, as if resigned, as if he accepted the facts the same way a corpse accepts death.
“Now that my purpose has been fulfilled, after so many mistakes and so much madness, I spend my days wondering why I continue to exist. I think it’s just a miscalculation of fate, because religion says we live to fulfill a purpose, but if there really is one, I still haven’t discovered it.”
Serguei stared at me, his eyes sharp. Eyes like blades, ready to shatter the world. Ready to shatter himself. It bled from his pores like fire—the pain was so monstrous that it radiated from him and echoed in my chest. I wondered how the people around us couldn’t feel it.
A horn sounded again, announcing the armies' entrance.
Everyone made their way out of the tent.
Serguei stood, slipping his mask of indifference into place.
I let him guide me outside, and we positioned ourselves near the walkway to watch the parade.
In the distance, I saw the five troops in perfect formation, marching toward us.
Zion led at the front. He didn't smile or look around—he simply played his part, wearing a mask forged from the same material as Serguei's.
“He hates these events.”
“Then why does he do it?” I asked, still reeling from our earlier conversation.
“Because it's part of the game, and Zion is an excellent player.
He dances to the music, and the king believes every move.
He has to play his part—Interion's army is also our means of recovering the descendants.
We fight under this nation's colors, but the truth runs deeper, beyond the king's reach. Behind the green, we dance in red.”
“He's never suspected what you do behind the scenes?”
“He suspects, but he has no proof. Our system is airtight. And even if he found out, I bet Elitium wouldn't do anything about it, as long as the descendants stay far from Interian soil.”
“But if he suspects, why hasn't he gotten rid of Zion?”
Serguei watched Zion with shining eyes. The general marched, his expression icy, fixed on the man perched high on his throne.
Perhaps it was the drink drawing out truths Serguei would never admit sober, but there in his eyes was so much admiration it spilled across his face, breaking into a quiet, proud smile.
“Because he's good,” he replied aloud. “As I said, I created a perfect general.
Someone the soldiers love and fear in equal measure, someone who radiates confidence and gives as much as he demands.
He cares about every man—knows their faces, their names, their families.
Zion is the only general in history capable of uniting the peoples of four nations into a single army, and that's an unprecedented feat.
I once thought my son was weak because of his love for people, but I've come to realize that's his greatest virtue—the foundation of his success.
I'm grateful I couldn't take that from him. Only the gods know what kind of monster I would have created. Zion is unmatched in his command, and the king will never find anyone as good.”
The squadrons finally reached the red walkway, and Zion passed us without so much as a glance in our direction. His focus remained fixed ahead. The king rose and raised his wine goblet as everyone applauded and whistled, admiring all that might.
“Stronger than the walls!” His voice rang out across the grounds, amplified by the speakers.
“We resist!” the army shouted in unison.
Our motto gave me goosebumps—it was one of the most beautiful among all the nations.
Elitium looked proud on his throne, but I saw only a false leader in his imaginary world.
I glanced back at Serguei, then at Zion.
They were the real leaders of this nation, working in the shadows while the king played his illusory role.
They were the ones who deserved to be honored—not some superficial, genocidal monarch.
I admired Zion in silence, proud of my partner.
My gaze traveled over him, and my feelings ran wild, as if trying to reach him.
He was my partner, and my chest swelled with pride and passion until I thought it might burst.
As if sensing my thoughts, Zion turned toward me. A restrained smile touched his lips before he looked forward again.
“He's a born leader,” I murmured, still watching in admiration as the army crossed the walkway and dispersed around the lake.
“It couldn't have been any other way. Everything I've done in my life was to make him what he is. Zion is my pride—perhaps the only thing I've ever done right, even with all my mistakes along the way. I'm his father and protector, but he's the one who saved me, even if he doesn't know it.”
Finally, the entrance music ended and the king sat down, dismissing the men.
“Tell him that, Serguei.”
He pretended not to hear me.