The room was dark. Was he in a room? He couldn’t tell. There was no breeze, but he couldn’t smell anything either. This was a dream, but he had a feeling no good spirits would come visit him. Not after what he did.
Indenuel closed his eyes, trying desperately to wake up. It was quiet, but he was afraid he’d hear screaming soon. He didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d done. He knew there would be consequences to this, but he would rather face them than the possibility of Inessa dying by the hands of Kiamese soldiers.
“Hello, Indenuel.”
He spun, taking a few steps back. The voice was, unfortunately, all too familiar. Garen stood next to him, smiling. Indenuel lifted a hand as he continued to take a few steps back. “Stay away.”
Garen stayed put, the smile never leaving his face. It did nothing to comfort Indenuel. “But of course. What happened on the Day of the Devil was a one-time thing.” Garen lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers. “Just wanted to see what it was like. Shall we go back to how I once was?” Garen’s eyes turned blue, giving off the look of an Oraminian. “For old times’ sake?”
“I can’t trust you, or anything you do. You stay away from me.”
Garen laughed. “That wasn’t your reaction yesterday. You worked with my demons, and I allowed it. You know I will always give help to those who ask.” Garen smirked. “See? I listen to the teachings of the Gods too.”
“Yesterday was a desperate time. I will never ask you for help again.”
A loud laugh escaped Garen. “Hell is full of souls who have said that exact same phrase. You may be the Warrior, but you aren’t that much different.”
Indenuel glared before he turned and walked away. He shouldn’t talk to the devil. He should stay as far as he could, especially now.
“It felt good though, didn’t it? To destroy all those Kiamese soldiers?”
“No, it didn’t,” Indenuel said, continuing to walk away.
“Liar. My demons were there, entering your body even though you didn’t notice. You were cold. You were brutal. You were efficient. For once in your life, you could actually see how you could fulfill the prophecy,” Garen said.
“I will never use those powers again,” Indenuel said.
“Then how else are you going to fulfill it?” Garen asked.
“Not with your help. I know that much,” Indenuel said.
Garen was quite far, true to at least one of his promises to stay away, which means he had to shout to have himself heard. “I did a pretty good impression of your father, didn’t I. Do you want to know who he is?”
Indenuel stopped in his tracks. Almost everything inside him told him to keep walking away, but the part that yearned to know, no matter the consequences, begged him to turn around.
“You are the devil himself, a manipulative liar. I cannot trust a word you say,” Indenuel said.
Garen appeared at his side, and Indenuel glared at him. There was no way he could believe whatever name came out of his mouth. A devilish smile crossed Garen’s face. “Then I won’t tell you anything. What’s the fun in telling you, anyway? I’d much rather watch you discover for yourself. It’ll be so fun. Let me give you a clue.”
Garen grabbed Indenuel’s temple. He was transported into a dim basement. He recognized the room next to it, the reading room. He watched as a younger Navir entered the basement, pulling a book out and writing something onto it.
“They knew from the beginning, and they never told you,” Garen said, beginning to laugh.
It overlapped, and he saw a younger Martin, a younger Fadrique, and a younger Cristoval all do the same. Indenuel felt his heart drop to his stomach. What was in that book?
It started to get lighter, in a sense. It was still plenty dark as he fought off the devil’s sleep. He sat up, barely aware of where he was.
“Indenuel?” It was Tolomon’s voice. Indenuel reached out to him. He grabbed his elbow, helping him out of the bed. “You aren’t expected to wake up for another day. Are you alright?”
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“Where? Where am I?” Indenuel asked, continuing to blink to get his vision working.
“Back home. You’ve been out for a full day.”
Indenuel shook off the sleep, stumbling through the room until he got to his wardrobe, throwing open the doors.
“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Tolomon asked.
Indenuel felt no need to answer. He simply grabbed whatever pants were nearest him and pulled them on, over his nightshirt.
Tolomon grabbed his arm, and Indenuel looked up, his face coming into focus.
“Let me go,” Indenuel said, feeling strength come back to him.
“You cannot go anywhere. The High Elders have done a mercy letting you recover here and not in the dungeon. Tomorrow you are to talk to Martin. Now get back to bed,” Tolomon said.
“I need to go to the High Elder’s library. Now,” Indenuel said.
“In the morning. You are exhausted, and I’m not letting you leave this room,” Tolomon said.
Indenuel shook Tolomon’s arm off, rubbing his face, trying to get his brain working. The devil’s sleep was a beast to get over, especially waking up too early. Pablo opened the door, and Tolomon turned, talking quietly with him, telling him to alert Martin of Indenuel’s state.
Indenuel didn’t want to wait around for Martin. He needed answers now. He heard the demonic whispers beside him, even if he couldn’t quite translate them, but he sensed something. The demons suggested he reach for the tree. Even though he was inside, they could pull the corruption of the tree to him, because the lingering corruption was that powerful inside him. Indenuel looked up at the curtains before he threw his hand out, letting the demons help him connect to the trees just outside. The branches broke the glass, and Indenuel closed his eyes as the branches wrapped around his wrist and pulled him outside.
“Indenuel!” Tolomon shouted from below.
He fell into a rhythm, corrupting the next branch, letting it wrap around him as it pulled him to the next tree. He swung through the night sky, staying below the trees, forcing the branches to move. Anger and hurt bubbled inside him. He couldn’t even say why, but once again he found himself in the position of the High Elders keeping secrets from him. What else were they hiding?
Tolomon grabbed his foot, stopping him from swinging. Indenuel glanced down, surprised. Tolomon had kept up with him.
“I will tie you up and carry you back home if I have to,” Tolomon said.
“Just let me see what they’re hiding, then I will return,” Indenuel said, making the tree pull harder. Tolomon dug his heels into the ground, keeping Indenuel in place. Indenuel flicked his hand and a branch hit Tolomon square in the chest, breaking his grip enough that Indenuel swung to the top of the trees. He went as fast as he could.
He dropped in front of the Cathedral, aware he was barefoot, but he didn’t care. He went barefoot all the time in a different life. He sprinted up the stairs. The guards bowed as they opened the door for him.
“No!” Tolomon screamed at the bottom of the stairs. Somehow, the man still kept up with him. Tolomon would never cease to surprise him. “Stop him!”
The guards took a moment to react, and Indenuel was already halfway down the spiral staircase. The four guards blocking the library looked confused as he ran past them. He shut the door, placing way too much hope on Tolomon’s insanely rigorous rule following and ran to light a lantern in the darkened room. Once he had some light, Indenuel picked it up and walked into the library portion. He had never been in here before. The High Elders manipulated him into believing he didn’t belong here.
Indenuel searched through the shelves. With Tolomon not already here, he was right to place some hope on his law-abiding nature, but that didn’t mean he would have alerted one of the High Elders. Or that the High Elders would simply give him permission to find him, depending on the severity of the secret. He had to move quickly.
He searched, but the library had five rows, stuffed with books and parchments. How was he supposed to find anything down here?
The whispers sounded like they were in the room, though they were quiet. He was struck with an idea. He approached the whispers, hearing them get louder and louder. He lifted his lantern, trying to spy the book he saw in his vision. The whispers were almost overwhelming as he moved aside some parchments to see the bound book underneath. Indenuel grabbed it and placed it on one of the reading pedestals. He set the lantern on a hook and flipped the cover open.
Warrior project: As per meeting notes, all High Elders have a memorized list of what the Warrior’s mother looks like, as well as a note that the woman would only get pregnant if she were desperate. As the Warrior should be born at the first of the year, that means the desperate woman should be fertile the third month. The High Elders shall have intimacy with as many women as possible during the first two weeks of the third month and write-
Bile crept up his throat. He covered his mouth as anger began to build. He flipped through the pages and pages of women, a mixture of anger and hatred making the whispers grow. He started at the beginning, glaring as he skimmed through the names of the women, trying to find her. Wanting to not find her.
He went through five pages before his fingers rested on her name.
Lucia, daughter of Anil and Mia.
Indenuel gasped, then ran his finger up the column until he found the name.
High Elder Cristoval, Speaker of the Dead.
Indenuel’s fingers curled, a hatred that he hadn’t known before boiling in his heart.
“When the time comes, kill me quicker than you killed them.”
Indenuel closed his eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever murder an old man. He was certain time would take Cristoval away first. But now, with this book in front of him, Indenuel wanted to do it. Desperately. Cristoval raped his mother and left her. Left them. Cristoval needed to die, and he needed to be the one to do it.
The demonic whispers turned to laughter and shrieks. For the first time in his life, Indenuel was not afraid to hear them.