Chapter 125
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five
Rohak
There were no words for the destruction and devastation that laid waste to the courtyard that once teemed with life.
Now, instead of swelling with vendors hawking wares with the smell of cooking meats and fresh pastries, it was a mass graveyard.
Bones and bodies in various states of decay littered the grey cobblestones that were stained black with dried blood.
The scent of human decomposition hung heavy in the warm spring air, causing both Faylinn and me to gag and retch against the wall.
Coyotes yipped and scampered back over the piled stone as carrion birds squawked loudly and took flight once Faylinn and I made our presence known.
Any hope I once held for survivors was quickly and thoroughly squashed—the sheer number of bodies that littered the courtyard left little room for any other conclusion. The dead were so thick in some places that the stone below was impossible to see.
I jumped when Faylinn’s finger gently touched the bridge of my nose, a wet feeling left behind as she muttered some indecipherable words under her breath. Immediately, the smell dissipated, clean air filling my lungs once more as I watched her repeat the same action on her face.
“A rune to filter the smell,” she explained down the Bond.
I grunted my thanks before clasping her hand in mine, cautiously pulling her away from the wall and into the courtyard beyond.
We were silent as we picked our way through bodies bloated beyond recognition and teeming with maggots and flies that lined our path. Though I was no stranger to death, more than once, I had to avert my gaze.
These were people I’d known and trusted, many of which I’d trained or recruited, and to see their bodies desecrated in such a way left a sour taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the smell of death in the air.
I failed them.
Faylinn squeezed my hand tighter in hers at the self-deprecating thought.
“They made their choice, just as you made theirs. Do not cheapen their sacrifice.” She turned my own words against me.
“If they had not stayed, the numbers that would have met us on the plains of Deucena would have been insurmountable. We would have lost the war. They are heroes and will be remembered as such.”
The steel in her voice and glint in her eye left no room for argument and, for once, I let the burden of command fall from my shoulders.
Our boots clicked against the stone as we climbed the steps to the Academy, the wide and tall oak doors swung wide and slightly askew, as if they were blasted apart.
Aside from a few dead in the direct entryway—all of them lying on their stomachs as if they’d attempted to flee—the Academy was untouched.
“Why wouldn’t they come through here?” Faylinn wondered aloud.
“Probably had orders to ransack Vespera before moving on to Deucena. My guess is there was a deadline.”
Faylinn hummed but said nothing.
“Why? What are you thinking?”
Faylinn shushed me, finger to her lips as she squinted, straining to hear something.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered.
I paused, the thumping of my heart overpowering any other noise.
“This way,” she said, pulling on my hand as she took off at a jog, aiming for the mess hall at the end of the hallway.
The doors were closed but the closer we drew, the clearer the noise became.
“It sounds like—”
“Music,” Faylinn cut me off. “It sounds like music.”
Curious and more than a bit perturbed, I let go of Faylinn’s hand in favor of shaking the obsidian doors.
Squeals and shouts of alarm came from inside the mess hall as the music died, only stoking my urge to fling the doors wide.
Survivors. My brain chanted over and over. There are survivors!
The doors swung inward on my next push, aided by someone on the other side.
I stumbled into the mess hall, nearly losing my footing and squinting against the light that shone from the walls.
Every Mage Orb was lit, sconces and torches from ages past joining the more modern technology to banish any shadows that dared to linger.
I heard the doors shut behind me and felt Faylinn’s presence at my back as I took in the scene before me.
Dozens of little eyes stared at me from under tables and around pillars. Tiny hands clasped tiny hands as children of all ages huddled together.
“King d’Alvey! You’ve returned!” a jovial yet calm voice intoned, causing my head to whip away from the children to an adult Mage I never expected to see here.
“Felix?” I asked, stepping toward the greying Pleasure Mage, ignoring the honorific that I neither wanted nor deserved.
He was skinnier than I remembered, the circles beneath his eyes dark and pronounced.
My eyes flitted to the children, noticing their thin frames and deadened eyes as well.
Clearly, the battle had taken its toll in more than one way.
“Apologies for the music, King d’Alvey. It helps distract the little ones from their growling bellies,” Felix said, bouncing a little girl in his arms.
Faylinn’s sob caught me off guard, and I stumbled backward as she pushed me in her haste to reach the baby.
Felix’s smile was knowing, his eyes sad as he held the child out to Faylinn without so much as a word in protest. With shaky arms, Faylinn tucked the child into her chest, pushing her face into the child’s neck to whisper things I couldn’t hear but could only imagine.
Watching her cuddle the baby in such an instinctively protective way had a ball of emotion welling in my chest, threatening to overflow completely.
I roughly cleared my throat when I noticed Felix’s knowing gaze sparkling with intensity.
“Where are the other survivors?” I asked, turning to give Faylinn some privacy with the child that was now hers—ours—after the death of her friends.
“This is them,” Felix said, spreading his arms wide, a sad smile painting his face.
I blanched, heart quickening as my stomach sank like a stone.
“Once Lex departed, Sol and Leal pushed as many of the unAwakened cadets inside the mess hall as they could, which is where I found them days later.”
His explanation was missing vital information, glossing over all the important parts, but I had trouble focusing on any of it.
“Sol? Thandi? Leal?” I asked, my words growing more desperate as Felix shook his head with each stuttered name.
“None,” he admitted quietly.
“The rest of the citizens of Vespera?”
“In the tunnels beneath the Academy”—I breathed a sigh of relief—“they refuse to come out or return to their homes until the bodies are cleared.”
That I could understand.
I nodded shakily, running my hands through my hair as I looked, unseeing, at the unAwakened cadets in the mess hall.
Felix’s hand clasped my shoulder, the gesture grounding me once more.
“How did you survive?” I asked.
Felix gave me a tight smile, and I knew it was something he’d never answer.
“I have my ways,” was all he said. “But my time here now is done. May Fate guide and keep you for the remainder of your days, King d’Alvey.”
The older Mage squeezed my shoulder once before he made his way to the mess hall doors. I turned, hands locked in my hair with mouth agape, as he simply fucked off.
“I’m no king. I never wanted it and still don’t,” I called gruffly. Why that is what I chose to say when he was leaving me with an insurmountable mess to clean alone was a mystery I doubt I’d ever solve.
The Mage stopped and looked over his shoulder, a smirk on his face and the same knowing glint from earlier in his brown eyes.
“Maybe not, but it is your fate.”