Phae clamped her hand over his mouth. “Listen to me! He is my protector. My father is alive. I need to go into the Scourgelands, Trasen. I won’t be…I won’t be coming back. I chose this. No one is forcing me. I can end the Plagues.”
He shook his head free. “Is that what your father told you, is it? Your father, Tyrus of Kenatos? He’s a liar, Phae. Whatever he’s told you, it’s a lie. I’ve spoken to the Arch-Rike. I’ve been to the city. This…I’m trying to save you!”
A shadow loomed just before the Kishion landed in the muck behind them. Phae gasped with fright and Trasen whirled. He pulled a short axe from his belt and Phae saw the sparkling onyx stone set into the sigils along its blade. The stone shimmered with light, growing brighter as the magic was summoned.
“Trasen, no!” she begged.
The Kishion had landed full on his feet, a raven in his dark cowl and menacing eyes.
“Run, Phae,” Trasen said warningly. “I won’t be a victim this time.”
The Kishion’s face was grim. He did not unsheathe any weapons. He looked equally deadly without any.
There was no way she could make Trasen understand. No words would make sense to him, not after the Arch-Rike had woven his lies around Trasen’s mind. What mattered most to her was that he was safe. She did not want Shion to kill him or even injure him. Trasen would not be safe if he continued to track and hunt her. He would follow her. He would follow her all the way into the Scourgelands. She would have done the same for him. Of all the sacrifices she would need to make, this would be the hardest. She knew what she had to do.
Phae grabbed Trasen by the cloak and pulled him around until he faced her. His expression was hard with determination, his jaw tensed and thick with stubble. She saw him swallow. His gaze shifted, surprised by her sudden action. She took his face between her palms and stared into his eyes. His eyes were bluish green and wild with energy and determination. She stared deliberately, connecting them. Then she blinked.
She took away his memories of her. All of them.
When the fierce maelstrom of sobbing had finally ended, Phae felt drained, desolate, and hollowed as a gourd. Her nose was puffy and tender and she dried her face with her hands, wiping away the vestiges of grief from the corners of her eyes. Her head throbbed. Sitting across from her in the dense scrub, silent as a stone, was the Kishion. He was a silent observer of her suffering, but though he had not spoken, his expression was full of compassion and sympathy. His mouth was a tight, drawn line, his lips curling with shared pain, as if her suffering somehow was his. The look in his eyes was haunted, full of anguish for her.
“I’m sorry,” Phae whispered hoarsely. She wiped her chin and then pressed her temples with her fingers. “I needed to mourn him.”
“You loved…Trasen, didn’t you.” His voice was soft, not judging.
She licked her lips, staring at him and then down at her boots. She nodded. “I didn’t realize it. I didn’t see the pattern until I gathered all those memories together in one. He loved me as well. I saw it then, but it was too late. They flitted away…like leaves. I could not hold onto them. They’re gone now. Forever.” Saying it out loud caused the crushing weight in her chest to press harder.
“You saved his life,” he said. “He will be of no use to the Arch-Rike now.”
Phae nodded, the misery a dull ache still. “I’ll never forget the look on his face though. I was a stranger to him.”
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I understand a little of what he was feeling when he left. Confused, frustrated. He is in the woods of Silvandom and he doesn’t realize why he is here or why he came. We told him to go back to Stonehollow and keep the orphans safe. His memories of them may return. At least we sent him out of danger and to the right place. It’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”
She bit her bottom lip, glancing into his eyes. “I pity you, Shion. If my father is right, your memories will return when this is over. I hope so, for your sake.”
He gave her the hint of a smile. Then dropping his hand, he leaned back slightly. “It was painful to watch you grieve. I wish there was something I could do to take it from you. It wasn’t just pity that I felt.” He stared off into the woods at the thickening shadows of twilight. “Memories hidden. Locked away. Insurmountable grief. I understood your pain as if it were my own.” He sighed deeply and fished in his pocket. There, in his hand, he cupped the locket.
Phae stared at the charm, blinking. She reached out and took it, fingering it delicately. From deep within the Kishion’s chest, a sound emerged. He started humming the tune she had last heard emitted by the locket. The sound that came from him was rich and languid, as if he had been an accomplished performer on a stage. He stopped, catching himself.
He shook his head free. “Is that what your father told you, is it? Your father, Tyrus of Kenatos? He’s a liar, Phae. Whatever he’s told you, it’s a lie. I’ve spoken to the Arch-Rike. I’ve been to the city. This…I’m trying to save you!”
A shadow loomed just before the Kishion landed in the muck behind them. Phae gasped with fright and Trasen whirled. He pulled a short axe from his belt and Phae saw the sparkling onyx stone set into the sigils along its blade. The stone shimmered with light, growing brighter as the magic was summoned.
“Trasen, no!” she begged.
The Kishion had landed full on his feet, a raven in his dark cowl and menacing eyes.
“Run, Phae,” Trasen said warningly. “I won’t be a victim this time.”
The Kishion’s face was grim. He did not unsheathe any weapons. He looked equally deadly without any.
There was no way she could make Trasen understand. No words would make sense to him, not after the Arch-Rike had woven his lies around Trasen’s mind. What mattered most to her was that he was safe. She did not want Shion to kill him or even injure him. Trasen would not be safe if he continued to track and hunt her. He would follow her. He would follow her all the way into the Scourgelands. She would have done the same for him. Of all the sacrifices she would need to make, this would be the hardest. She knew what she had to do.
Phae grabbed Trasen by the cloak and pulled him around until he faced her. His expression was hard with determination, his jaw tensed and thick with stubble. She saw him swallow. His gaze shifted, surprised by her sudden action. She took his face between her palms and stared into his eyes. His eyes were bluish green and wild with energy and determination. She stared deliberately, connecting them. Then she blinked.
She took away his memories of her. All of them.
When the fierce maelstrom of sobbing had finally ended, Phae felt drained, desolate, and hollowed as a gourd. Her nose was puffy and tender and she dried her face with her hands, wiping away the vestiges of grief from the corners of her eyes. Her head throbbed. Sitting across from her in the dense scrub, silent as a stone, was the Kishion. He was a silent observer of her suffering, but though he had not spoken, his expression was full of compassion and sympathy. His mouth was a tight, drawn line, his lips curling with shared pain, as if her suffering somehow was his. The look in his eyes was haunted, full of anguish for her.
“I’m sorry,” Phae whispered hoarsely. She wiped her chin and then pressed her temples with her fingers. “I needed to mourn him.”
“You loved…Trasen, didn’t you.” His voice was soft, not judging.
She licked her lips, staring at him and then down at her boots. She nodded. “I didn’t realize it. I didn’t see the pattern until I gathered all those memories together in one. He loved me as well. I saw it then, but it was too late. They flitted away…like leaves. I could not hold onto them. They’re gone now. Forever.” Saying it out loud caused the crushing weight in her chest to press harder.
“You saved his life,” he said. “He will be of no use to the Arch-Rike now.”
Phae nodded, the misery a dull ache still. “I’ll never forget the look on his face though. I was a stranger to him.”
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I understand a little of what he was feeling when he left. Confused, frustrated. He is in the woods of Silvandom and he doesn’t realize why he is here or why he came. We told him to go back to Stonehollow and keep the orphans safe. His memories of them may return. At least we sent him out of danger and to the right place. It’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”
She bit her bottom lip, glancing into his eyes. “I pity you, Shion. If my father is right, your memories will return when this is over. I hope so, for your sake.”
He gave her the hint of a smile. Then dropping his hand, he leaned back slightly. “It was painful to watch you grieve. I wish there was something I could do to take it from you. It wasn’t just pity that I felt.” He stared off into the woods at the thickening shadows of twilight. “Memories hidden. Locked away. Insurmountable grief. I understood your pain as if it were my own.” He sighed deeply and fished in his pocket. There, in his hand, he cupped the locket.
Phae stared at the charm, blinking. She reached out and took it, fingering it delicately. From deep within the Kishion’s chest, a sound emerged. He started humming the tune she had last heard emitted by the locket. The sound that came from him was rich and languid, as if he had been an accomplished performer on a stage. He stopped, catching himself.
