Chapter 45 #2
“I’m sorry.” She said with regret.
“I know.” He smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks in beautiful streams.
And with that, her fingers tightened around the hilt as she picked the sword up off the marble.
This was always going to end bloody.
Always going to end in ruin.
She cursed herself for thinking it could’ve gone any other way.
As she inched closer to Xander, her gaze streaked past him and out the window, at the way the wall was pulsing frantically now; seven minutes had gone by in what felt like seconds, and now their time was up—the shadow wall would rise in the next few moments, and they would have failed. Drastically. Fatally.
Unless.
Ellaryn cleared her throat. “Any last words?” She said, her eyes fixed on Xander’s now.
This was what she always did.
She had to make it believable.
Xander just shook his head and swallowed hard. Bowing his neck towards her.
She sighed, gently settling the blade on his skin. She could feel him shiver beneath her. “Please remain still.” She paused. “He’ll kill Sailen if he sees you try anything.”
She hoped she said the sentence right, that she enunciated in all the right places. Hoped he understood. Xander’s eyes flicked to the now rigid shadow wall, and in that moment, her heart skipped a beat.
In a flash, Xander had blinked out of existence and taken the sword from her grip.
Damien dropped to the floor first, blood spilling between his fingers as he tried—and failed—to suture his neck together.
The King just stared, dumbfounded, but barely had time to react before the blade sank deep into his ribcage.
Ellaryn let out a breath, and Sailen ran into her arms.
She clutched him tight, his head on her chest as Xander’s being reappeared.
The sword lay buried in the King’s ribcage as he fell to his knees.
His blood shimmered as it pooled out of him, mixing with Damien’s, who had choked on his own; face pale, eyes still wide as death wrapped its cold arms around him.
The castle held its breath. The silence was deafening. Sailen’s chest rose and fell fast in her arms. But she had him. She had saved him.
“Are you okay?” Xander said, concern flicking in his eyes. She knew that look. Fear. That she was going to die. But Ellaryn didn’t feel death latch onto her spine. She felt… fine.
Through the blur of tears, Ellaryn noticed the King twitch, then move, then sit upright and pull the sword from his chest.
“No.” Ellaryn breathed. “He can’t—it was supposed to—”
Then his booming laugh followed. Haunting. Torturous, and Xander’s body was thrown across the room by an invisible force—the King’s force.
He was alive.
The bastard was still alive.
The sword was supposed to kill him.
He should be dead.
Ellaryn’s thoughts deafened her, but all she could do was hold onto Sailen tighter.
“Now what do we have here?” The King’s voice lingered, casual, as he stepped confidently towards her, shadows curling around his palm like he was just testing out his magic.
Xander hauled himself up with a wince, limping in front of Ellaryn, his stance protective.
“Stand in front of her all you want,” the King said, voice smooth, deadly. “I don’t need to touch her to hurt her.”
Before she could react, a searing pain shot through Ellaryn’s chest. Her body collapsed to the floor, stomach twisting, breath hitching.
“Stop!” Xander called out, a ball of light forming at the tips of his fingers, but the King just flicked his wrist, and Xander froze—light fading, unmoving.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?
” The King laughed, dark and cold. “I am King for a reason!” He bellowed as he twisted again, one hand on her soul, the other holding Xander in place.
“Your soul was far too precious to be kept with the others.” He said, admiring it like a flame writhing in his hands. “You’ll always be mine, little Ruin.”
“No—I don’t understand—The sword should’ve killed you—it was made by your magic.” She said almost to herself, still in crushing disbelief.
“It’s an average sword, Ruin—just plain old steel.” He laughed so hard she flinched. “You think I would’ve given you a weapon that could kill me? Think I would ever make something like that?” He laughed again, and her eyes found the floor.
Of course he would never do such a thing. She foolishly thought to herself.
It wasn’t in his nature. The very thought counteracted everything he was—calculated, cruel. There was nothing that could end him. No weapon forged by his own hand.
She had failed.
Cinders was going to suffer forever.
Ellaryn screamed, shards of glass biting into her knees as she clutched her stomach.
“Tut, tut, tut,” the King clicked his teeth, his voice sharp as the broken glass. “I thought you were better than this, Ruin.”
His smile twisted, blackened teeth bared like a rabid dog ready to strike.
“You thought wrong.” Ellaryn struggled out, breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
“You should know by now—you can’t defeat me.” His sneer deepened. “You may have freed a few souls, but I still have yours.” He laughed, a cruel, sick sound that made her stomach churn. “And I can take the rest whenever I choose.”
“Do it,” she whispered—or maybe shouted. She wasn’t sure anymore; the pain was overwhelming.
“No!” Xander screamed, struggling against the invisible tether the King held him with. “You touch her, and I swear I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“Xander,” Ellaryn muttered weakly.
The King twisted her soul again.
Agony tore through her body, and she cried out, collapsing against his grip.
“Oh, will you?” he mocked, looking toward Xander. “Hmm. Not quite feeling like I wish I were dead.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully.
“Maybe I need to hurt her more.”
Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the sword from his belt.
The blade hovered at Ellaryn’s throat.
Then it slid to her cheek.
The cold edge dragged across her skin.
Ellaryn screamed as the blade cut deep, the magic tightening its grip while she writhed in pain.
“Leave her alone!” Sailen shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
Blood streamed down her cheek, mixing with the tears falling just as fast.
The King watched.
Then he pulled the blade away.
“Nope,” he said lightly, almost bored. “Nothing.”
“Now let me tell you what’s going to happen.
” The King drawled, walking around them.
“I’m going to kill you.” He aimed the sword at Sailen.
“I am most definitely going to kill you.” Then to Xander.
“And then little Miss Ruin is going to spend a night in the playroom.” He said with a laugh, and Ellaryn’s stomach twisted.
“No,” She said. “Let them go. Please let them go. You can hurt me all you want, just please.” Ellaryn begged.
“But don’t you see?” The King crouched down beside her and cupped her face, his thumb brushing over the blood on her cheek. “To hurt them hurts you.”
“No,” She said. “Don’t you dare.”
“Pain… that’s the only way you’ll learn.” He said, toying with the blade in his palm.
“I’ve learned my lesson!” she sobbed, voice breaking. “I’ll never betray you again! Please… please don’t hurt Sailen!”
Sailen shook violently, the terror radiating off him like fire.
“You think she’s your friend.” The King’s laugh cut through the air, cold and cruel. “She’s hurt you more than I ever could,” he said softly. “She’s the reason you were in the cells to begin with.”
Ellaryn’s heart dropped into her stomach.
He couldn’t know. He couldn’t.
It would destroy him.
“No,” Sailen muttered, shaking his head, though his voice trembled. “You’re lying. That’s what you do. You lie.”
The King smiled faintly. “I am many things, boy. But I am not a liar.”
He knelt, his sharp nail brushing Sailen’s cheek.
“Don’t touch him,” Ellaryn spat, tears brimming in her eyes, as the feeling of being helpless crashed into her all at once.
The King’s eyes only glittered. “Tell him,” he drawled.
“Don’t listen to him, Sailen,” Ellaryn whispered.
“Tell him,” the King repeated calmly, “or the boy dies.”
Ellaryn froze.
Sailen turned to her slowly, his eyes wide and trusting and terrified all at once.
“What is he talking about?” He asked, screwing his eyebrows.
“I’m waiting,” the King said, tapping his wrist.
The sound echoed.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Ellaryn’s voice barely existed when she spoke.
“Okay.” Her hands shook as she took a slow, regretful breath. “Okay… just… promise you won’t hurt him.”
She looked at him—Really looked at him.
Memorised him.
“I’m Ruin, Sailen,” she whispered. “It was me.” Her throat closed. “I killed your parents.”
The words hit the marble and shattered.
Tears spilt freely now, dripping from her chin onto the floor.
“No,” Sailen said immediately. He shook his head harder, stepping back. “No. That’s not true.”
His voice broke.
“Please, Ellaryn… tell me it’s not true.”
He pointed at the King. “You’re making her say it.”
But his face crumpled as the tears streamed down his face.
Because he knew.
“I didn’t want to.” She choked. “I didn’t want to do it. I hate myself every day. Every day, Sailen. For what I did to them.”
Her voice shattered.
“For what I did to you. I’m so sorry, Sailen. I’m so sorry.”
He stared at her like he didn’t recognise her. Like she was a stranger wearing her face.
And in that moment, Ellaryn couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t survive the look in his eyes.
“Right, now that that’s over… what do we do about you?” The King’s magic wrapped around Xander like a vice, squeezing him, forcing him still.
Sailen didn’t speak; fear had claimed his face. He looked impossibly small against the vast polished marble, fragile as glass. His skin was nearly translucent, his shoulders jutting sharply beneath it, evidence of long neglect.
Ellaryn wanted to gather him in her arms, to whisper that it would be alright, to calm him with one of her stories. But she couldn’t speak. All she could do was cry.