Chapter 34
Esiree
What remained of the population was gathered within the hollowed-out shell of the Town Hall.
Their clothing was as ragged as their expressions, a sea of grey and brown against the cold stone.
At the entrance, my scribe moved with a rhythmic, practiced diligence.
Each time I studied the flick and curl of his quill, the ink staining the parchment with name after name, a wave of nausea rolled through me.
Father and Ari were seated in the front row, their silence unmistakable.
I couldn’t decide if their proximity was an anchor or a burden; I only knew that under their watchful, judging eyes, my composure felt as thin as glass—vibrating with a tension that threatened to shatter at the slightest touch.
“Es!”
My name rang out in a boisterous roar, and before I could turn, I was engulfed by a pair of massive arms and swept off my feet. Alyric immediately reached for her sword.
“No. No, it’s alright. I know him,” I cried breathlessly, trying to calm her.
Mes set me down, and I smoothed my skirts with a shaky smile. “Mes, you can’t do that!” I warned, my heart still racing despite my smile. “I’m the queen, now. You could have lost your head for such a stunt.”
“Ahhh! To die by her sword?” he said cheerfully while pointing at Alyric, whose gaze remained cold. “It would be an honorable death.”
Alyric rolled her eyes and turned back to the crowd, purposefully ignoring him.
His warmth was jarring, a welcome fever compared to the frigid conversations I had encountered since my return.
I wanted to embrace him tightly once more, but the eyes in the room and the weight of my crown restrained me.
“Where are your mother and sister? I should like to see them!” I asked excitedly.
The light in his face vanished as if snuffed out by a sudden draft. A heavy melancholy settled over his features, aging him a decade in an instant. I glanced over his shoulder to see Ari standing near the front row; he gave a sharp, slow shake of his head, a silent warning to tread no further.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision.
“It’s alright,” he tried to choke out. “Mother is recovering, but…”
I ignored every rule of royal decorum and threw my arms around him again, pulling him into the tightest embrace I could muster.
“Shhh,” I hushed him, my own heart breaking for the girl who had been like a younger sister to me.
The thought of her being lost to such a tragedy nearly rendered me speechless.
By now, most of the guests had moved to their seats.
A deafening silence had settled over the thinning crowd.
Many had already fled, too consumed by rage or sorrow to stay for anything beyond the recording of a name.
I nodded my permission to the young man, and he proceeded with the opening prayers, his voice reedy and wavering in the stillness of the hall.
He did as well as could be expected. I think his mentor would have been proud.
The grieving audience, their voices rising in a crooning hymn, nearly broke my resolve.
When he stepped down from the pulpit, I knew it was my turn.
My hands shook with an uncontrollable tremor.
This was not how I had envisioned facing my people.
I cleared my throat and looked out across what remained of the Letorians.
“Some of you may find it disagreeable that I ask for us to say prayers and sing hymns to the Gods today,” I began, my voice gaining strength as it ricocheted off the rafters. “Now, more than ever, I’m certain you feel they’ve abandoned us.”
I drew a hitched breath as I locked eyes with a woman in the front row, her face weary with grief.
“I do not fault your doubts. I do not even fault your disbelief. But we must not grant the Gods the mercy of our silence. They do not deserve it. They deserve every sorrow-filled prayer, every cry of desperation. They deserve our judgement.
“The Gods have forgotten us. They betrayed humanity when they allowed the affliction of the blood to fester. They betrayed those who clung to civility when they allowed the rise of an abomination. And they abandoned us the moment they saw no higher purpose for our lives than as sustenance. And so, I say to you: Do not cower. Do not whisper. Instead, let them hear our fury.”
A restless rustle moved through the crowd, and my father straightened in his seat.
“If we must suffer the shadow of their ambivalence,” I declared, my voice ringing out, “then let them never find peace in our blind devotion ever again! For we are all Forsaken, now. Every one of us.”
Murmurs of hushed agreement rippled through the pews. I had not lost them. Not yet.
“To this grim assessment, you might ask: what now? My answer is that we take back what’s ours.
We rebuild our homes. We restore our lands.
Do not wait for flippant Gods to answer your prayers.
They do not grant you joy, they do not sow your crops, and they do not wipe the sweat from your brow.
It is time we cast a shadow upon them. Give us one hour, one day, one hundred years; our resilience does not rely on the power of the heavens, but the power within each of us to rebuild, to love, and to forgive. ”
My chest constricted as I held my breath, waiting for the crowd’s verdict. A single clap broke the silence, then another, blooming into a wave of applause, until the heavy oak doors of the hall were thrown wide.
One of Vastion’s sentries stormed into the room, teeming with furious rage. “Traitors! Ingrates! Abominations!”
Alyric’s blade was out in a flash, steel singing as she stepped defensively before me.
“What calls for this outrage?” she demanded.
The sentry didn’t look at her, instead turning to face the terrified audience. “We have discovered bodies!” he roared. “Someone has been harboring deceased Forlorn outside the village walls.”
My stomach dropped. The limbs. They found the limbs.
“All deceased must be burned,” the sentry continued, his voice vibrating with disgust. “We will discover which wretch has committed this heinous treason.”
“Seal the gates at once!” Alyric commanded the guards at the rear.
Panicked citizens began to tumble over one another, a frantic tide surging for the exits to escape interrogation. Or execution.
“No, no! Stop,” I begged, reaching for Alyric’s arm. “We must remain calm!”
Alyric turned to me, her gaze as icy and sharp as her blade. “This is a very grave matter, Your Majesty.”
“Please. I understand, but we mustn’t incite a riot.”
But it was too late. The people had flooded into the streets in a chaotic rush, leaving the hall eerily silent, save for the echo of my own panicked breathing.
“You have your answer now. They’ve come in waves because they can smell their own. Smell their dead.”
“…What?” I said, confused, my voice shaking.
“The Forlorn. They’re as attracted to the scent of rot and decay as they are to living flesh. It is why flame and pyre are commanded! We must root out this vile criminal and ensure we’ve uncovered every hidden remain.”
“Or what?” I said, the answer already hovering on the tip of my tongue. But fear would not grant me the words.
“Or there will be more attacks,” she warned. “Come. I need you to remain with your family while I help bring order to this chaos.”
Alyric led me toward the door, her pace brisk and unforgiving. I couldn’t stop from uttering, “What will they do when they discover who was behind all of this?”
She shot a glare at me. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether my merciful King has returned before judgement is dealt.”
I wanted to speak. I wanted to decree that no action be taken without my express approval.
But a cold truth halted my tongue. A mob of sentries and terrified, vengeful citizens would not care for a queen’s mercy.
I retreated into silence, the realization settling in my chest: by saying nothing, I was no longer just a witness. I was a harborer of fugitives.
Alyric delivered me safely home and assigned a fresh sentry to the perimeter.
There were so few to spare; the rest were occupied at the main gates holding back the crowds of frantic people seeking shelter or escape.
My father rushed toward me the moment the latch clicked, his fingers digging into my arm.
“I’m so sorry! Please, forgive me.”
“Shhh,” I hissed, peeling his hands away. “Lower your voice.”
Ari was a ball of nervous energy, pacing the room with a wide-eyed stare.
“Who else knows?” I demanded. “Who?”
“Only us. And Mes. That’s all. I swear it!” Ari said, his hands raking through his hair until it stood in wild tufts. “We can trust him,” he added, as if that were enough to stave off the Watch.
“You caused this!” I held nothing back, not that they deserved censure. “How could you be so foolish?”
My father slumped into his chair, the guilt visibly consuming him until he looked smaller, frailer. A surge of bile rose in my throat, and I fought to keep my voice from reaching the sentry outside.
“Alyric believes the recent waves of attacks were tied to your decision to harvest the remains instead of burning them. You drew them here.”
“How could we have known?” Ari tried to deflect, his voice cracking.
“I don’t care! How many of these secret caches have you hidden?”
Ari looked at Father, then back to me, his expression caught between shame and pride. “Many. But we have a map!” he offered, as if a record of their treason made it any less lethal.
“And what? You expect me to just hand it over to the Watch and claim I happened to have stumbled across it? That I found a map to my own father’s crimes?”
I couldn’t stand to look at either of them for another second. I stepped back out onto the porch to breathe. A few feet away, my new guard stood with his hand resting atop his pommel, his body coiled like a spring.
“Does Alyric bring news? What is transpiring?” I asked, trying to sound like a queen and not a terrified daughter.