Chapter 33 #2
“For-lorn…” Ari said slowly, punctuating each syllable. “Whose side are you on, Es?”
“I am on the side of ending senseless carnage,” I snapped.
My father’s expression softened into a look of weary pain. “Please, please, do not fight.”
But Ari was beyond listening. “You’ve clearly spent too much time holed up in your cave, playing the spoiled royal while we watched our neighbors carted off; their faces so mauled they were unrecognizable!”
“I am a royal! You and Father saw to that!” I screamed, the sound echoing off the low ceiling. I rose to my feet, the sudden movement causing the chair to scrape harshly against the floor. If Alyric was listening, she had surely heard the cracks in my composure.
“And look what good it has done us.”
“I’ve played my part!” I declared, the words like poison on my tongue.
Father rubbed his temples, shaking his head as if we were children squabbling over chores.
He did not intervene. A part of me despised him for it—for not seeing my own sacrifices.
I had not borne witness to the attacks, but there was nothing more heartbreaking than returning to Leto to find my heart’s home in ashes.
“What news have you actually brought us?” Ari’s voice dropped to a low, resentful hiss. “Your letter addressed nothing of value. What have you learned in that palace that benefits our cause? Or have you forgotten we are at war?”
Standing before him, I realized with horror that Ari was a mirror. Before the Harvest, I had been the one fueled by an incurable loathing for the Vampyr. I recoiled from the memory of that woman—the version of myself that had existed before the Heart. Before him.
“I do not have time to convince you that your rage has blinded you,” I said, my voice trembling but certain. “But if you ever trusted me, if you ever loved me, know this: Vastion is doing everything in his power to end this terror. For all of us.”
“Glad one of you is doing something,” Ari muttered.
“Enough!” Father’s voice cracked like a whip, silencing us both.
I refused to let my tears fall in this house. I turned for the door, my spine stiff with a queen’s resolve.
“I must oversee the preparations for tomorrow’s Remembrance. I will return when the work is done. Do not wait up for me.”
There was no reasoning with Ari, and my father’s silence was its own kind of verdict.
Had he possessed any scrap of hope, he would have spoken; instead, he left me stranded in a house where my voice was no longer welcome.
My homecoming had been stripped of joy, marred by bloodshed and guilt that clung to me like the scent of the pyres.
I feared my family’s experiments had already crossed a lethal threshold.
If the Watch discovered they were harvesting and concealing the remains of the fallen, the punishment would be severe.
I retreated to the Town Hall, toiling well into the night to prepare for the dawn.
Securing a scribe for the Book of Remembrance was simple enough; convincing the High Priest’s apprentice to lead the service was the true trial.
The boy was unmoored, his youth painfully evident as he struggled to process both the loss of his mentor and the bloodshed he had witnessed.
He was years away from a pulpit, but I needed a spiritual anchor before I took the stage.
I scribbled version after version of my address, the floor becoming a graveyard of crumpled parchment. Alyric hovered near, a restless shadow. Occasionally, she would drift to the entrance to scan the darkness before returning to my side.
“You know… I think I’m secure. I don’t need you breathing down my neck,” I said, my voice sharper than I’d intended. Exhaustion proved a poor veil for my nerves.
“Trust me, I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do. I’d much rather be on the expedition with the Commander.” Alyric turned her nose up at me and started twirling her dagger.
“How long have you been stationed here?” I asked, trying to diffuse the tension I’d inadvertently caused.
“I was assigned this post immediately following your nuptials,” she answered dryly.
I had questions that burned in my throat—questions I was too terrified to ask my father. I feared the answers would break the ‘strength’ Vastion had insisted I maintain.
“Will you tell me about the attacks?” I asked, trying to conceal the shame in my voice.
“What do you want to know?” Alyric finally relaxed her posture and leaned against the wall. Her armor seemed weightless on her, a second skin she never shed.
“Everything. When did the attacks begin? How many have occurred?”
“When we first arrived, Leto was quiet. We were far from the primary Hive; the nests here were small, manageable.” Her tone shifted, growing cold and ominous.
“But something turned a few weeks ago. We went from isolated skirmishes to relentless waves. The Forlorn didn’t just attack, they swarmed.
It transitioned from a nuisance to a massacre before we could even signal for aid. ”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes, but I saw the taut line of her jaw, a soldier’s grief, silent and jagged.
“Why the sudden shift?” I prodded. “What could drive them to such coordination?”
Alyric shook her head. “I suspect they are being pushed. Forced north, perhaps, or drawn by something we haven’t identified.”
I thought of the Parcaetes and their weapons. Had our attempts to thin the nests elsewhere inadvertently driven the swarm straight into the heart of my home? Or was there a darker catalyst at play?
“I need you to do something for me,” I said.
Alyric stood up straight instinctively.
“Can you write?” I asked.
She scoffed, genuinely offended. “I have lived a very long time. I did not spend those centuries illiterate.”
“Good,” I said, ignoring the bite in her tone. “Tomorrow, while the scribe handles the human entries, I want you to gather the names of every sentry lost in the siege. They will be entered into their own record.”
Alyric’s expression went flat.
“The humans care nothing for our losses,” she remarked coldly.
“But I do.” I countered. “Without the sentries, there would be no one left to even hold a quill, let alone a ceremony. I will acknowledge their sacrifice, even if I am the only one who mourns them.”
I had once lived under the delusion that we could defend ourselves. Now, I knew better. We were a species facing oblivion, guarded by the very monsters we loathed.
“Will you do it?”
Alyric dipped her chin in deference. “Yes, My Queen.”
Hearing the title from her lips gave me a momentary spark of hope. Perhaps I would find the words to lead them after all.