His words calmed her deepest fears and she was grateful she had found the will to speak to him, even when the topic pained them both. “I’m not saying that I couldn’t feel . . .”
He lifted his hand warningly, breaking her touch. “No. Say nothing. I will never speak of it to you.”
She frowned, feeling the discomfort bubbling up again. “But we must, Shion.”
“No good will come of it. I am a monster. For some reason, I have immunity to the evils of this place. But I am a monster still, like the beasts we have faced here. Somehow . . . somehow you’ve tamed me. But I feel it writhing inside of me, a terrible darkness that I’m afraid will be revealed.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t think . . . I don’t think I want my memories back now.” He shuddered.
Phae realized she was shivering. Her eyes flicked with tears. “Whatever they are, we will face them together.”
“No,” he said in a clipped tone. “I dare not. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re afraid,” Phae said, edging closer to him. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of the truth,” he said, with a hint of exasperation. “I quail before it. I must ask myself, were my memories stolen? Or were they surrendered? Have I murdered babies? Have I slit the throats of the innocent? Would I loathe myself beyond any form of pity if I knew who I truly was?”
She grabbed his wrist. “Stop it.”
“I don’t want to know the truth.”
“Stop doubting yourself,” she commanded. “That is the Arch-Rike’s weapon. It is his best deception. While I was climbing the tree, the Dryad was flinging doubts at me like stones . . . trying to knock me from the safety of that perch. Enough lies. Enough doubts.” She took both of his hands in hers, drawing so close their knees touched. “When you thought I was dead, you said something.”
His face went crimson with mortification.
“Trust me, Shion. I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m trying to help you. You said . . . not again. I heard it distinctly. What did you mean by that? I’ve never died before. What did you mean?”
The haunted look on his face brought a surging swell of compassion into her seething heart. She squeezed his hands. “Tell me,” she pleaded.
His breath was so shallow, she could barely hear it. He struggled with his emotions, his face turning into a rictus of pain. She waited patiently, trying to lure the words out of his mouth with her quiet. It always seemed to work with him. A blob of a tear crept from his eye and trickled down his cheek. He mastered himself though, holding his neck rigid to the point she could see his tendons straining.
Shion closed his eyes, his voice full of self-loathing and despair. “When I saw you lying there . . . dead . . . it struck me with great brutality that it has happened to me before, long ago. Even though I could not remember it, the feeling was so . . . familiar . . . that I thought the grief would murder me. I had been in that situation before, in my past.” His breath became a pant. “I mourned someone . . . who I loved.” He gasped for breath, nearly choking on the pent-up sobs. “A blackness . . . unlike any blackness I’ve known threatened to swallow me. A girl . . . dead in my arms. Was she my first victim? Was she my wife? I can’t remember her. I can’t remember her face or the sound of her voice. But even still, I remembered how it felt to lose her.” He hung his head, his shoulder shuddering.
Phae’s throat was clenched. She struggled to speak. “You fear the worst. You fear that you killed her.”
He nodded, exhaustion sagging his mouth.
She squeezed his hands anew. “Whatever it was,” she promised, “we will face it together. If it truly is beyond hope, then I promise I will snatch the memory away from you again.”
He looked at her, startled. “That means you will carry it alone.” He shook his head violently. “No.”
“Then we will suffer the burden together, Shion. I can see that those . . . feelings . . . those memories . . . have great power over you.” She reached out and smoothed a lock of hair from his brow. “These are chains you’ve bound yourself with. It’s time to unlock them. Face them. You have come here, into this dreadful lair, to help me banish the Plague. When we succeed, we’ll have saved the lives of thousands yet unborn. Surely that gift of life will help compensate for some of the darkness in your heart.”
“You mean if we succeed.”
Phae shook her head. “No more doubting. No more despair. We will see this through.” She felt heat inside her blood, a fiery resolve that put steel in with her muscle. With the edge of her hand, she tenderly stroked the claw marks on his cheek. “What sorrows you have known,” she whispered sadly.
He lifted his hand warningly, breaking her touch. “No. Say nothing. I will never speak of it to you.”
She frowned, feeling the discomfort bubbling up again. “But we must, Shion.”
“No good will come of it. I am a monster. For some reason, I have immunity to the evils of this place. But I am a monster still, like the beasts we have faced here. Somehow . . . somehow you’ve tamed me. But I feel it writhing inside of me, a terrible darkness that I’m afraid will be revealed.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t think . . . I don’t think I want my memories back now.” He shuddered.
Phae realized she was shivering. Her eyes flicked with tears. “Whatever they are, we will face them together.”
“No,” he said in a clipped tone. “I dare not. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re afraid,” Phae said, edging closer to him. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of the truth,” he said, with a hint of exasperation. “I quail before it. I must ask myself, were my memories stolen? Or were they surrendered? Have I murdered babies? Have I slit the throats of the innocent? Would I loathe myself beyond any form of pity if I knew who I truly was?”
She grabbed his wrist. “Stop it.”
“I don’t want to know the truth.”
“Stop doubting yourself,” she commanded. “That is the Arch-Rike’s weapon. It is his best deception. While I was climbing the tree, the Dryad was flinging doubts at me like stones . . . trying to knock me from the safety of that perch. Enough lies. Enough doubts.” She took both of his hands in hers, drawing so close their knees touched. “When you thought I was dead, you said something.”
His face went crimson with mortification.
“Trust me, Shion. I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m trying to help you. You said . . . not again. I heard it distinctly. What did you mean by that? I’ve never died before. What did you mean?”
The haunted look on his face brought a surging swell of compassion into her seething heart. She squeezed his hands. “Tell me,” she pleaded.
His breath was so shallow, she could barely hear it. He struggled with his emotions, his face turning into a rictus of pain. She waited patiently, trying to lure the words out of his mouth with her quiet. It always seemed to work with him. A blob of a tear crept from his eye and trickled down his cheek. He mastered himself though, holding his neck rigid to the point she could see his tendons straining.
Shion closed his eyes, his voice full of self-loathing and despair. “When I saw you lying there . . . dead . . . it struck me with great brutality that it has happened to me before, long ago. Even though I could not remember it, the feeling was so . . . familiar . . . that I thought the grief would murder me. I had been in that situation before, in my past.” His breath became a pant. “I mourned someone . . . who I loved.” He gasped for breath, nearly choking on the pent-up sobs. “A blackness . . . unlike any blackness I’ve known threatened to swallow me. A girl . . . dead in my arms. Was she my first victim? Was she my wife? I can’t remember her. I can’t remember her face or the sound of her voice. But even still, I remembered how it felt to lose her.” He hung his head, his shoulder shuddering.
Phae’s throat was clenched. She struggled to speak. “You fear the worst. You fear that you killed her.”
He nodded, exhaustion sagging his mouth.
She squeezed his hands anew. “Whatever it was,” she promised, “we will face it together. If it truly is beyond hope, then I promise I will snatch the memory away from you again.”
He looked at her, startled. “That means you will carry it alone.” He shook his head violently. “No.”
“Then we will suffer the burden together, Shion. I can see that those . . . feelings . . . those memories . . . have great power over you.” She reached out and smoothed a lock of hair from his brow. “These are chains you’ve bound yourself with. It’s time to unlock them. Face them. You have come here, into this dreadful lair, to help me banish the Plague. When we succeed, we’ll have saved the lives of thousands yet unborn. Surely that gift of life will help compensate for some of the darkness in your heart.”
“You mean if we succeed.”
Phae shook her head. “No more doubting. No more despair. We will see this through.” She felt heat inside her blood, a fiery resolve that put steel in with her muscle. With the edge of her hand, she tenderly stroked the claw marks on his cheek. “What sorrows you have known,” she whispered sadly.
