Indenuel kept his eyes closed as he rode his horse, running over in his mind his anger and hatred for the Kiam army. From his experience, fear was good enough to ignite his powers, but anger was what gave him the results he needed. It’s what kept him alive.

Tolomon stopped his horse. “We’ll eat lunch here.”

Indenuel opened his eyes to see a nice, clear patch by the road. It looked like frequent stop for meals. Indenuel dismounted, trying to get the feeling back in his legs as Tolomon sorted through his pack. He handed Indenuel a cloth that held his lunch and he started eating it, feeling the ravishing hunger. Tolomon paused for a moment, watching.

“That’s lunch for the both of us,” Tolomon said.

“Oh.” Indenuel forced himself to stop. “Sorry. I…”

“No, it’s fine. You need it more than I do.” Tolomon walked past him. “You look like shit.”

Indenuel swallowed the food in his mouth. “Thanks?”

“You know it wasn’t a compliment.”

Once again, they hadn’t talked since leaving the dungeon. Honestly, they hadn’t even talked in the dungeon. The last conversation they had was Tolomon practically begging him to not go through with this deal, and yet here they were. Doing it again.

Tolomon leaned against a tree, waiting for Indenuel to finish. Indenuel was starving, but he couldn’t let Tolomon starve, too. Indenuel approached him, holding out the cloth with lunch. “Hungry?”

“It is not my place to take from someone in higher social class than me,” Tolomon said.

“Just stop.”

“If you wish to treat me as a lower-class citizen, then you get my responses as one,” Tolomon said.

“I’m doing what I must to save Santollia City,” Indenuel said, the anger he had simmering in his heart all day beginning to turn dangerous.

“We’re done with this conversation. The only time we should discuss it again is if your stubborn ass comes to your senses and we go back to your dungeon cell. As someone from the lower class I have no actual power to change your mind. And as your friend, you clearly don’t consider my opinion very highly.” The quietness somehow made his words cut all the deeper.

Indenuel winced, then looked down at the food that was all his. He sighed, tearing the loaf of bread in half and throwing it right at Tolomon’s face, who caught it easily.

“Eat. Whatever happens tonight I need you to be just as strong,” Indenuel said.

“Whatever you say, Warrior.”

Indenuel’s fist clenched. He rolled his head around his neck, hearing the popping sound before he walked as far away from Tolomon as he possibly could. He needed to get away from Tolomon. He tried to only stay angry at the Kiamese militia, but he was afraid it would bubble over to his bodyguard as well. And the man wouldn’t stop getting under his skin. He didn’t know how many more chances he would have to do this. Last time was bad. He was simply getting into the habit of it. But he needed to start thinking of how he could get away from Tolomon. He needed some time to breathe, think things through.

Corrupted tree bark, a demon whispered. It’ll put him right to sleep.

Take some tonight. After your battle.

Store it under your tongue. Let it marinate in your mouth.

Even if they should find it while you’re asleep, it will be enough.

Share a waterskin. Drink it first.

Get as much of your saliva in there as you can.

It will transfer over to him. Command us to him, and he will sleep.

Indenuel looked up to see Tolomon eating his loaf of bread. He’s a Graduate. He’ll have built an immunity to it.

Not this strong.

Not this corrupt.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Get it strong enough, a man like him could sleep for a hundred years.

Indenuel continued to stare at Tolomon. Is there an antidote?

He wakes up when it wears off.

Though a man as powerful as you, you can command us when to wake him up.

Tolomon chewed his bread, studying the road before he met Indenuel’s gaze. Indenuel dropped his gaze immediately, knowing it made him look guilty. His bodyguard said nothing, simply took another bite of bread and went back to looking at the road. Indenuel had given up looking innocent in front of Tolomon. He finished his lunch, folding the cloth up and stuffing it in the pack.

Tolomon broke the last of his bread in half before tossing it toward a bush behind him and at a tree next to Indenuel. The tree and the bush muttered their thanks as Tolomon looked forward, brushing his hands before walking past the horses. He bent down to look at something on the road.

“Tolomon?” Indenuel asked, waiting to mount his horse again, willing to give his legs as long a break as needed.

“Scout tracks. Not ours,” he said, touching the ground.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying stay close. They might already know it’s you and are setting up a trap.” Tolomon walked back to his horse.

Tolomon could be lying.

Trying to scare you into going back.

Call him a liar. See how he reacts.

“Did you…” Indenuel stopped himself. He still had control. He didn’t have to listen to everything the demons said, and he certainly didn’t have to do what they wanted him to. “Are you certain?” he asked instead.

Tolomon mounted his horse, saying nothing but gave him a stare. The message was clear. Tolomon was a Graduate, and with the title came certain obligations he was under. If it was in Indenuel’s best interest to know, Tolomon would tell him.

Indenuel mounted his horse, situating himself better, glancing in Tolomon’s direction. “Let’s go.”

“Which way are we going, Warrior,” Tolomon asked.

“Stop… calling me that,” Indenuel said.

“It is the prophecy you are fulfilling right now, is it not? The title you are earning?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel narrowed his eyes, the anger there again.

You don’t need him. You need us.

He’s getting too obnoxious. He’s going to tip you over the edge.

You’re going to sell your soul because you cannot stand to be around him.

You might as well kill him now.

Indenuel breathed through his clenched teeth, trying hard not to make it sound like a gasp. Tolomon’s horse approached, and next thing he knew he felt fingers at his temple, gently massaging him.

He’s got daggers all over.

He’s not expecting it.

Grab one of his daggers and bury it in his belly.

Indenuel grabbed Tolomon’s wrists, opening his eyes. “You’re not… not really that powerful to make a difference.”

Tolomon raised the right side of his mouth, almost in a smile. “I know. You have been feeding them all morning with your anger. I doubt even High Elder Dalius could get them to leave now.”

Tolomon’s horse was pointed back toward Santollia City. Indenuel leaned over in his saddle, trying to breathe. “That prayer? The prayer you said that one night. Somehow it worked.”

“Are you certain you want to be rid of them? You do, after all, have a battle to survive.” It wasn’t in his usual jeering manner. He was truly curious.

Try for two daggers. Right now. Fast. As fast as you can.

He’s so close. You can slit his throat.

There’s a reason why Graduates don’t last this long.

He’s getting old. He’s losing his skill.

Indenuel tightened his grip over Tolomon’s wrists. “I need a moment.” He let out another breath. “From them. I need them to leave me alone.”

Tolomon nodded, easily breaking out of Indenuel’s grip. He placed Indenuel’s palms together, covering them with his. “Say it with me.”

A small tear fell down his face. “I don’t know it.”

“Say it after I do. Ready?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel closed his eyes, bowing his head.

The Savior won’t win.

Garen has already killed God. A God. What is a mortal to him?

The Savior is going to suffer, and Garen is going to make sure he does.

“May the Savior look down on us in mercy,” Tolomon began to say.

He heard the hissing all around him. Indenuel repeated the line, his voice shaking.

“May he fill us with God’s remaining light.”

Indenuel repeated it, barely a whisper.

“May we know the Savior understands us.”

Indenuel couldn’t say the line. Instead, he started to cry. Did the Savior understand him? Did he know what Indenuel had been asked to do? Did he have the same power as the prophet? Did he see the pain Indenuel suffered his entire life? And if he did, why didn’t he stop it?

“Indenuel?” Tolomon asked.

“May we know the Savior understands us,” Indenuel said, his eyes closed tight.

“And may it be a comfort in the night.”

His breathing was shaky. His voice started to take on a more guttural noise that he remembered from a memory he couldn't quite reach. “And may it be a comfort in the night.”

He remembered the warmth from the night before. This felt more hallow. There weren’t demons, but there was no warmth of goodness, either. Indenuel touched his chest, feeling how cold it was. He was hunched over his saddle, confused. The demons were gone, at least. He was finally done hearing all the different suggestions to kill Tolomon.

The entire situation crashed down on him. He had a mark on his chest. He was going into battle to use the corruptive powers again. He was going to murder and slaughter, and if he survived long enough, the next Day of the Devil was going to be absolute hell, let alone the actual Hell he would go to after this life was done.

Indenuel tried not to cry. Holding it back was worse.

“I’m not leaving your side. No matter how much it sounds like I’m pestering you, my promise as a Graduate is still there. I will never leave you to die. If you are going to jump off a cliff, I will have already jumped off first to make sure you can land as safely as possible.”

Indenuel nodded, still trying to keep his tears back.

You honestly think the Savior is going to help you?

He recognized that voice. Instinctively Indenuel looked up, the desire to cry disappeared. Cold fear replaced it. Garen stood in the middle of the road, trying to look human except his eyes burned black.