On Death's Honor

Chapter 39: Broken Bonds

Leaving right away was not an option. For one thing, I refused to do any more travel until breathing was no longer painful. I felt like ever since I killed the nymph kid that had served Mutnya, it was just one fight after another. I was tired - I had been tired even before I'd tracked down the girl.

Frenza promised that this was the last contract. Therefore, I needed to take the time to think. I was about to go into the realm of a god that hated my guts. Would Refyra's necklace work in the underworld? Would it protect me from anything else that may want to get into my head? I sat on the bed, my body aching, and wondered how the hell I got this far when I was so incredibly good at killing whatever I touched.

I needed to leave Craen's little home. Get out of Canden before-

"Oh, fuck," I swore, pressing a hand to my forehead upon remembering a recent event - one that involved Bogdan ripping me out of my own mind at the expense of bringing someone else in - a man that, until recently, had believed I was dead. The last I checked, he had been a Caster - a sorcerer of a sorts, one that could tap between realms to cast illusions in living world. All this time, I had led Rhoe to believe there was no one she could use to hurt me.

Bogdan using him to snap me out of that dream would lead her to believe otherwise. I needed to warn him before I go off and get myself killed.

That's if he doesn't kill me, first. There was a reason I had let him believe I was dead for an odd fifteen years.

Sighing, I climbed tenderly to my feet, glancing over at the door that would lead to the rest of the dome-like house. A groan brushed against my throat at the none-too-subtle complaint from my ribs. Damn, Bogdan really had to kick me there, of all places. With our recent scuffle outside the square, there was no doubt in my mind that should I ask him to tend to my wounds, he would make it as agonizing as he could physically bear - which meant quite a lot of pain on my end.

Yeah, no thank-you.

I found Craen sitting in a chair in the open area of her home, back facing me as she stared into an open fire. Even from behind, she looked awful; her body frail and thin, as if one misstep would be enough to snap her in two. Over the crackling of flames, I could hear her struggle for breath, wheezing with each inhale she forced into her lungs.

This was what happened when someone born with the Sixth Source overexerted themselves. If she had used her power a second longer . . .

"You know, there's a particular type of people," I began without much thought, "that comes from a realm of shadows. Powerful, but at the cost of sleeping for entire decades after using their power. You wouldn't be able to wake them without risking them simply exploding altogether - and the force would take out entire cities, at that."

The older woman grunted in response.

"You have the most peculiar bits of knowledge lodged into that half-witted brain of yours." She'd said it so plainly, but I noticed a hint of something snarky beneath her tone. I shrugged.

"I never met the creatures," I admitted. "Dunno what they even call themselves, or what they look like." I shook my head, catching myself. "But that's not the point. You should be resting."

There was a brief, heavy pause.

"You of all people do not get to act concerned for my well-being."

I deserved that.

"Perhaps not. But that doesn't mean I don't care."

"Hmm. So you often do horrible things to those you care about, then?"

"I'm not going to beg for forgiveness it that's what you're hoping for," I said, surprising myself with the amount of finality that laced my words. "Forgiveness won't change what happened. But I'd rather not see you suffer more than what you've already had."