Aligning the Forgotten ✓

Chapter 55: Roux

My shaking hand braces against the wooden door and gently pushes open to reveal the foyer. I clamp a hand over my mouth as I walk into the room, overcome with emotions upon seeing my home. It's in decent condition compared to the other cottages, but the fires started by the witch of flame did enough damage that some things can't be repaired.

I hold back tears. That's the only way I can see the destruction left behind, the charred remnants of my family's home. It hasn't been untouched like I expected it to be, most of the debris is gone and someone tried to replace the set of curtains over the windows behind the dining table. I run my fingers over the rough wood of my father's craftsmanship.

An empty pit yawns open in my stomach. It's so quiet here, the only sounds are the distant movements of the rebels. They're preparing themselves for what is coming next, killing the king of Esaria. I can't imagine where the planning begins and where they decide their lives end, but they risked everything to get me out.

If it wasn't for Binx, everyone would have died—down to the very last rebel. I can't thank him enough; even if everyone hates him for siding with the king in the first place, for putting me in that spot, I'll be the first to defend him. Binx is here now, not for the reason of doing this for himself, but for me. And that's enough of a reason for me to protect him.

I look towards the kitchen and imagine my mother there, standing over the stove. The figment of her smiles over at me, and I find myself returning that expression through blurred vision. My father sits at the head of the table, drawing out plans to build another cottage for incoming refugees. Their ghosts linger here.

Those figments will stay such. I'll never see them again, never feel the warmth of their touch, never laugh with my father or joke with my mother. That pain manifests in my stomach as an ache and I press my hand against it to cherish it fully. Too much has happened over recent months. It's nearly been half a year without them, and it still feels like yesterday I watched their heads roll.

But so much else has changed, as well. For the better. It's possible that the destruction of Arego gave the rebellion the fire it needed to charge at the king and take his throne. Although we're not there yet, resurfacing my true self was a step in the right direction. We have so many more witches and humans on our side than we did before; the charge is so much stronger.

And it helps, I realize, to have a banished prince on the rebel side. I turn to find him standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. Renit watches me warily, but he doesn't speak. For he knows I don't require words at a time like this, there's nothing to say that will make any of this better. Apologies are worthless, promises of hope only stretch so far, and meaningless conversation doesn't begin to penetrate the hard exterior of death.

This all started because of him. The witch standing in the doorway. And I can see it in his eyes, the hate he feels for himself at starting all this. The bright silver is still that; a shade I'll never be able to match with any set of moonlight or stars, but a twinge of remorse dulls the color in the slightest. He'll never forgive himself for this, for being blind to take down an entire village, but I will not blame him.

All blame belongs to the witch behind these deaths. Renit was in a dark place, ordered to carry out the deed from his father, and like the king's weapon he was, he obeyed. All this, the deaths of innocent witches and humans, a hundred-year war, my slavery, Renit's beatings—it's not our fault. There's only one soul capable of causing such destruction, and although it may be in Renit's blood, it's not him. No, everything I see here, the charred remnants of my home, belongs to the king.

As do these swirling memories inside my brain. I flinch every time a memory comes into view, reminding me I killed yet another living being. Their faces are blank, but I can feel my grip tighten as the sword cuts through their bodies. I had no remorse. All that emptiness was saved until now, until this moment, now that everything has come back.