Chapter 16
Nate
It’s happened before.
Illusions wearing Tristan’s face making promise after promise, only to disintegrate right in front of my eyes.
Gloombane wants to break my spirit, and maybe he’s succeeded, because hope blooms in my heart when this version of Tristan cuts my chain, coming close enough for me to smell the leather and smoky herbs.
I remember that very scent cocooning me in a sense of safety as we dozed off back at that warm, cozy tavern, my face tucked into his firm chest, his arms wrapped loosely around me.
Back then, I was perfectly safe. A different person, who believed in the innate goodness of others and was ready to give them the benefit of the doubt. What is left of that person now, after Gloombane has beaten me, starved me, bled me?
“Tristan?” I whisper as the knight retreats, leaving me with the scent of long-missed safety. The chain lies on the damp floor next to the thin layer of straw and rags making up my bed, and while I’ve been fooled by illusions so many times, I still pick it up, confirming that it is in fact broken.
Am I… free?
Tristan doesn’t answer, his back turned to me as he walks straight for Gloombane, who backs out through the doorframe. Black spikes erupt all over Tristan’s form as if he’s bristling, his shoulders squared, sword firmly in his grasp.
“Don’t you dare,” Gloombane says in a nasal tone. “You will regret this.”
“No. You will regret the day you were born.”
The walls around me shake. I hear a thud, the clatter of metal on the floor, but it’s Gloombane’s hissing that wakes me up to the possibility of Tristan being here in the flesh.
I might have grown to resent him and cursed his name endless times, but deep down I never lost hope that he’d be back for me. For once, my tormentor is the one fearing for his life.
I attempt to crawl away, like a bug sensing the danger in an encroaching shadow, only to be stopped by the contraption on my arm.
Its teeth dig into my flesh, turning my blood into leech food for no reason other than my suffering, but without the chain in place I’m able to crawl forward and grab the knife Gloombane used to cut my arm open.
I’m weak, and every move sends the world into a spiral, but once the tool is in my hand, I find the strength to pry open the cruel device.
The initial relief is soon dwarfed by a rush of pain, and I squirm, frantically massaging my arm. It’s been cut and healed too many times for me to count, so what’s one more? I will not die from this wound, nor my twisted ankle.
The chain hanging from the metal collar rattles as I drag it over the floor when crawling forward. I’m so weak, so exhausted, but adrenaline keeps me going.
I get to the door in time to see focus in Gloombane’s cold eyes. He entwines his arms in a gesture I know all too well, and clusters of shadowy bats dart from every dark corner.
I try to warn Tristan, but my mouth is so dry I barely manage a rasp.
Tristan spreads his wings, using them like a shield, but the creatures still rip the sword out of his hand.
He chased a few away, and I sink to the floor as they zoom around the room, filling the air with the scent of cruelty. For once, I’m not their target.
Gloombane moves his arms, forehead wrinkling in concentration, but Tristan won’t let him finish the spell he’s working on and flings himself straight at him. The shadow spikes flash in the mossy glow of the torches, and I hold my breath, eager to see Gloombane bleed.
Is that what he’s made me become? Someone with so much hurt in their heart that another person’s suffering feels like a reward?
I hate him.
I hate this bastard so much.
I squeeze the knife in my hand. I’m so dazed I forgot I took it with me, but my survival instinct must have not let me part with it. I can’t do much with it against a powerful shadow wielder like Gloombane, but I get a vague sense of safety from holding a blade.
My eyes are glued to the men fighting as I crawl along the wall. Where would I even go if I made it out of the tower? I can’t swim in my state, and just the idea of plunging into the dangerous water makes me struggle for air as panic weaves its way through every fiber in my body.
For a moment I worried that Tristan might be defenseless without his sword, but with a roar of absolute fury, he hurls himself at Gloombane. The shadowy spikes he grew all over him extend, their pointy ends like a barrage of pikes aimed at only one man.
His whole body is a weapon.
Gloombane can’t react fast enough, and Tristan topples him, pinning him to the floor. Spikes sink into my jailor’s flesh with a nasty squelch.
The agonising scream Gloombane lets out makes me still in disbelief, tears I thought I didn’t have left pooling in my eyes.
This isn’t a dream.
Tristan really is here.
He’s come for me. And he’s about to avenge every single evil the captain has inflicted.
Warmth spreads through my chilled bones. I crawl closer, lured by the tartness of blood, but when the cold blue eyes find mine, their fury has me flat on the floor, cheek pressed to damp stone. Revenge is coming, and I will feel every indignity Gloombane is forced to suffer now.
His teeth are stained with blood as he stirs under Tristan, suffering a hard punch to the side of the head, but shadows crawl from between the stone bricks and dark corners, buzzing with fury as they once again transform into bats and fall onto Tristan’s unprotected back.
When he slaps them away with his wings, some of them attach to his legs, while others latch onto his arms, melting over them into a solid goo that won’t let him punch Gloombane.
The focus on the captain’s face is so intense he doesn’t pay me any mind. To him, I don’t even exist. After all, he’s told me many times how I’m not even a person, just a means to an end. A very useless one at that.
Tristan grunts in frustration, face flushed. They’re like two beasts locked in a deathly embrace neither can escape.
“You will bleed out like this,” Tristan hisses and spits into Gloombane’s face.
The captain’s cruel eyes narrow, and my stomach clenches in terror. This look means agony to come.
With a nasty snap, the bubbling shadow covering one of Tristan’s arm like a cast bends it out of shape, and my knight howls, jerking over Gloombane like a frog leg jolted by electricity.
Gloombane’s bloodstained face twists into a satisfied smirk, and I can’t watch it any longer.
I have barely any strength left in me, but desperate fury fuels my forward stumble. I can’t keep myself upright, so I support my upper body with my hands, but once I reach the two elves and Gloombane finally remembers my existence, it’s too late for him.
I stab his throat before he can hurt me with another cruel word.
Blood erupts from the severed artery like a fountain, and the blade slips over bone, sinking deeper toward the spine.
The captain gurgles, his eyes widening with rage and contempt.
I don’t want him to look at me. Never again.
I jab the knife at his face, and it slides down the bastard’s upper cheekbone, diving straight into the tender jelly of his eye.
“Die! Die you bastard! I want you to rot,” I scream at the top of my lungs, attacking the remaining eye.
I hate that he’s made me do this. That he’s turned me into this vengeful banshee.
But I can’t deny the relief pooling in my heart as I watch him still.
I kneel over him, sobbing, when darkness passes over Gloombane’s bloodstained face. A shadowy eel slithers out through the hole where his eye used to be, and onto my hand. I flinch and fall back on my ass in panic, but it’s too late, and it crawls up my arm.
I expect pain, my tormentor’s revenge, for the eel to wrap itself around my neck and choke me to death, but once it settles on my chest, it stills like a faded tattoo.
Empty holes watch me from Gloombane’s eyesockets. His face might have been handsome but I learned to associate it only with cruelty.
He’s gone.
He’s really gone, and he will never again lay his hand nor shadow on me. He will never lash me with his words. Never bleed me, beat me, starve me, drown me, thrust me into nightmares.
Is my ordeal… truly over?
The knife clatters to the floor, and I sob, letting the tears of the past weeks run free.