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“Nothing.” He taps his armored foot on the ground, the noise grinding through my veins as my jaw falls slack.

“Nothing?” I call bullshit.

“I gain nothing from this. Nothing at all. I lost everything for you to gain an exemption from Erikel’s wrath.”

I stare at him, waiting for the lie to reveal itself, but all I see is heartache in his eyes. I’m not buying it, though. It’s not possible.

“Bullshit. If that was the case, then why did he target me the night you arrived? Make me the one you had to kill unless the necromancer revealed themselves? Made Raven reveal herself,” I snap, anger coiling tightly as my eyes narrow.

He shrugs, his movement subtle given the weight of the armor. “I don’t know why he does what he does. I just follow orders. But in that instance, I think that was more of a power move over me, reminding me of the bargain I agreed to.”

“And if she hadn’t revealed herself?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Unbelievable. “My death would have been on your hands. Then what would all of this have been for?”

He looks away, still unable to accept that whatever heroic move he thought he was making all those years ago, it didn’t make a fucking difference because I was still a pawn in that man’s games.

“What don’t I know?” I ask, refusing to dwell any further on a situation that could have been, on all of the things that could have been different. Fuck knows we have enough of those.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he murmurs, brows furrowing.

“What makes you stay with him? What makes you stand before me as half the man I knew? What is it that has you still trying to help me if you’re doing all of this for that purpose?” I know I’m throwing too many questions at him at once, but I can’t stop it. The urgency to know is overwhelming.

“You’re my son, Creed. I’m stuck in a lonely place doing what I believed to be the right thing to protect my family.”

What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

“And you were my father, my hero, yet here we are,” I bite, unable to keep the dejection from my voice as he looks down at the ground with an air of resentment. Not for me, but for himself. When he still doesn’t answer, I take a step back, clenching my hands at my sides. “If you want to help me like you claim that you do, tell me something that will save us all from that man’s damnation.”

He straightens, eyes burning into mine again as he sighs. “He’s not who you think he is. His connections run deep. There’s no stopping him. I’ll regret being by his side every day, but I will never regret believing I was saving you. Not a day has passed where I haven’t thought of you and your mother, but with this…” He stops, pointing at the chest of his armor like it means something. “I’ll forever be his weapon.”

What the fuck does that mean? Could we have been right about him, his armor, when we had read through the parchments about magical objects? If that’s what this falls down to, surely I can…

“Tell me how you get rid of it. Tell me how to?—”

“How to what? Save me?” he interjects, a sad smile playing across his lips. “There is no saving me. When the time comes, I won’t be able to stop, I have to follow his commands.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice hoarse as I see the pain in my father’s eyes.

“It means that if there’s a piece of information I can offer you that can stop him, it’s this.” I part my lips, ready to ask what he means, but he drives the words home before I get a chance. “The most valuable information I can offer you is how to kill me.”

TWENTY-THREE

RAVEN

Worry gnaws at me as I stand impatiently waiting for Creed to join us. It’s almost been ten minutes, and I’m ready to act on his word the second it ticks past.

Zane was gifted with amazing parents. Well, father at least. I haven’t met his mother, but Rhys is enough to make a decision. Eldon’s mother has done nothing but be supportive, not only to her own child, but Brax too. Brax’s family dynamic is even more complex, but now that we know they’re not dead, they have done nothing but show up for all of us.

That leaves Creed and me.

Both with caring mothers who seem to have complex counterparts, and our fathers leave a lot to be desired. The reminder that Rhys had to leave us early the other day because my father has escaped their confines tightens my chest with concern, but I quickly push it aside. Creed’s father is on the other side of the door, wearing his flaws, and as much as I sometimes see past the golden warrior to the father he is, it doesn’t stick long enough for me to trust any of his actions.

Not that I would admit that to Creed. It’s his father, and it has to be his call.

When my mother ran from my father and brother, condemning us to life in Shadowmoor, I didn’t go under the illusion that my father was a hero, a god among men. I went remembering the stern look on his face, the bite in his words, and the pain that whatever happened was irreparable.