Chapter 35
Xev knew the instant the Malachai demons were put down. Because they were a part of him, he could feel it soul deep. Each death caused a physical pain to him.
Just as he knew the moment Rubati had died. Kri’s sounds of anguish were as loud as the screams Xev’s soul had made when he watched Myone pass away.
He also knew when the last Sephiroth died, cursing his son for his betrayal.
But at least Jared lived.
That was Xev’s sole consolation. Even though he couldn’t see him. He knew Jared was there. He endured.
It was enough.
At least, that was the lie Xev told himself while he lay imprisoned in darkness. This was his new existence, bleak and hopeless. He was the ?arru-Dara—the blood slave who served the last remaining Malachai. Even though he’d once commanded the largest legion of the Malachai’s demonic army, he was now nothing.
And there was only one Malachai left.
Apollymi’s deranged son.
All the others had been put down like rabid dogs. Because that was the brutal, hate-filled pact the Primals had made. From this day forward, there would be only one Malachai.
And one Sephiroth. Jared.
Balance.
It was a bargain Xev could live with.
Even though he would remain eternally enslaved to the Malachai, just as his father would be enslaved to his mother. No peace for any of them.
Xev would laugh, had he not lost his own sanity in the process.
No, not his sanity. His heart and soul. He no longer lived. He just existed. His only happiness came in the knowledge that Shadow had used his blood to entrap his mother and Noir in Azmodea—the one realm she despised above all others.
Maybe there was some justice in the universe.
She’d sold them all out, and in the end, she wasn’t happy either.
Nor was she free.
And it was his blood that had damned and trapped her. He could take some comfort in that.
None of them had gotten what they wanted.
They’d all been equally screwed.
And for what?
Xev had no idea. He wanted to die, but there was no death for him. Only an existence of suffering that would never, ever end.