Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I watch the guilt wash over his face as he shakes his head. “No. It was before.”
“What the fuck?” I ask again.
He turns away from me and starts walking back toward the fireplace. I head after him. “You aren’t going to answer me?”
He keeps walking.
“Hey. I’m talking to you.”
Finally, he spins. “What do you want me to say?” he finally roars, and I take a step back at his ferocity. “I am a monster!”
He turns again and stalks away. I follow him.
“What does that mean? You just came here and killed all these people? This is a church. They weren’t soldiers!” Maybe it’s hypocritical of me. I kill people who aren’t soldiers. But there are rules.
He grabs his head with his hands. “I know!”
And then he turns back to me and falls to his knees. “I know.” There’s such raw pain in his voice that tears spring to my eyes.
“What happened?” I crouch down in front of him, needing to understand. I’ve only known him a short time, but with everything we’ve been through together, it feels like so much more. I’ve given him more of myself than I’ve ever given anybody else. No one ever knew me like he does—and I thought I knew him too. But this. . . “What happened?” I ask again.
He shakes his head, face to the ground. So I reach out for one of his hands and grasp it. “Please,” I say. “Tell me.”
Considering how long I kept my secrets from him, I know it’s not fair to bombard him like this, but I still have to know. I have to know if it was safe to give him my trust.
He heaves out a huge, shaking breath yet still does not lift his face as he finally begins to speak. “My brother Layden. He was the only one of my brothers brave enough to stand up to our father. And Father tortured him for it. Horribly, and in front of us. We thought it was just to teach us a lesson, and that would be the end of it. So we did nothing to stop it as he tore Layden’s wings from his back.”
I shrink at the thought of it.
“Our brother screamed and begged for our help, and we did nothing.” Kharon’s voice is anguished as he retells the horrific story. “But that was not enough to satisfy our father. He poured hell-metal over Layden’s back to ensure his wings would never re-grow. Finally, that, we all thought, would surely satisfy our Father’s rage.”
Kharon shakes his head. “But we were wrong.” His voice comes out in the barest whisper. “He took a sword and drove it through our brother’s chest. Only after Layden fell dead to the ground did Abaddon take up the same sword and slay our Father.”
“Oh my god, Kharon—” I manage, my throat choked up.
“Abaddon tried to revive Layden, but it was too late. He could not heal him. He was gone. So we buried him and set our Father’s body alight. As the pyre burned, I plane-jumped to make sure my brother was at rest in the other realm.”
I squeeze his hand. So that’s how he knew—
Kharon’s head finally lifts, voice ragged as he says, “But he wasn’t.”
“What?”
“Our kind does not get eternal rest in the other plane. When we die, we simply cease to exist. And when I realized my Father had snuffed out my brother’s life-flame, his soul—forever—and I had simply stood by and done nothing—”
His head shakes roughly. “I went mad. I fled the castle and came upon this village. All I could see were humans whose souls were eternal. What did it matter if they left this plane? They had another resting place that my own brother was denied. So like a wild, mad beast, I took every single soul directly there. Thirty-eight souls, delivered to the eternal realm.”
His whole body shakes as he continues. “My brother Abaddon found me raving mad afterwards and locked me in the castle’s dungeon for the next two-hundred years. After a hundred, I came back to my senses, but for my sins, I allowed myself to remain chained.”
“Kharon,” I whisper, reaching out for another of his hands and squeezing with both of mine. He tries to pull away, but I don’t let go.
“I do not deserve forgiveness for a crime so great.”
I shrug. “That’s not for me to say,” I whisper. “But it sounds like you endured a lot of trauma at the hands of your father. That would really mess anyone up. I’m so sorry you went through that.”
He’s still shaking. Holding his hands isn’t enough, so I crawl into his arms, which he quickly throws around me. He squeezes, holding me tightly, but I know I’m the one holding his pain. I wrap my arms around him and let him shake.