Page 68 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

Mar

A sher placed his arm on my shoulder, his touch firm as I caught my breath. “Jesse.”

Faruhar hunched on the far side of the cell, her gaze locked on mine.

A cold weight settled in my chest that I was too weak to carry. There’d be no moving from this room for me, not really, even when my feet crossed the threshold. Years later, I still find myself there, with Asher’s disappointment, and something in Faruhar I still can’t understand.

“Come on, Brother,” Asher said, his voice tight. “It’s over. Let’s go.”

I looked between the mangled flesh that had once been Mahakal, then Kane’s corpse by the door.

Faruhar stared at me still, a tear tracing a path down her cheek in the lantern light.

“Jesse.” Asher shivered when I met his gaze. “There’s a healer still alive outside.”

“Are you sure Far left her alive? I saw what she did.” I gestured vaguely to the broken tablet on the floor. My eyes flicked up to Faruhar, who looked away.

I turned back to Asher. “I thought she killed you.” For a moment, words failed me. “I saw Faruhar turn to you and—” I closed my eyes tight as Asher gripped my head to his shoulder, holding me tight as I forced my breaths to slow.

“Hey,” he said, his voice weak. “She remembers those she trusts.” But there was no conviction in that, and neither was there absolution.

“Far…” I said, when I felt strong enough. My words echoed in the small room. I wasn’t sure what else to say. She seemed to shrink further into herself.

“Bria just told me the woman with the white braid was going to perform your marriage ceremony,” she told Ash, then looked back to the ground. “I’m sorry, Asher.”

I bit my fist to choke off a sob. “The rest of the rebels are going to kill her, aren’t they?”

Asher looked at Faruhar, his jaw clenched tight. “Nothing they tried worked so far…” His voice trailed off.

With a flash of motion, Faruhar dove to pick up the blood-soaked ax, still dripping with flecks of bone and guts.

Asher reacted quickly, drawing Istaran.

Faruhar didn’t even look at us, just the floor, at Mahakal. “Asher, where’s my journal? Do you have it?”

Fear drained out of Asher’s face before he let out a sigh, sheathing his blade. “My bag is at the treeline. Should I fetch it?”

Faruhar shook, her knuckles white on the ax grip. “I’ll find my swords first. Mahakal has them somewhere. Just … tell them all to leave me alone. I will defend myself if they attack.” A ragged, hollow sound tore from her shuddering body.

Asher nodded to Istaran. “They heard you through the blade.”

Tears mingled with the grime and bruises on her face. One quick salute to mind and heart, then she burst past us for the door.

Asher gripped my arm as I tried to follow. It took all my strength to break away from him, lurching after her as she disappeared down the dark prison corridor.

“Far!” Her name tore from my lips—all I had left. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I released her name once more into the shadowed hall, letting my voice burn through the pain in my chest.

Outside the cell, heavy snowflakes drifted down over the carnage, blanketing the dead in an icy hush.

Dozens lay in the field below the prison, many allies in their Asri cloaks, more in Mahakal’s uniforms, all sprawled lifeless in the snow.

My head throbbed, fogging, and if I didn’t focus on pushing the pain away, it threatened to overwhelm me.

Every breath felt like a knife scraping against raw flesh, and I suspected Mahakal had broken a few ribs in that last round of beatings.

I could push all that pain away though, if I concentrated. That was new.

Three figures, staff and Asri swords drawn, huddled near the prison gate next to a cluster of survivors, their faces obscured by their hoods.

As we approached, most stepped back in fear.

Three rebels took a crunching step forward, lowering their weapons.

An older woman and man I didn’t recognize, and Soren–with his green Chaeten eyes.

I dipped my head under the weight of Soren’s anger. I couldn’t blame him for hating me.

“We saw you kill Mahakal, through your brother’s sword.” Soren’s voice was deliberate, each word crisp.

“I’m sorry for your friends; for Telesilla.” The words scraped against my dry throat. I saluted deep and heartfelt to the bodies behind him, shuddering. “I’m so sorry, Soren.”

He offered a curt nod, his jaw muscles clenched in his weathered face. A silence stretched between us until the rage in his face dulled with a swallow of his throat.

Although Ash had swiped a coat for me from the complex, I stood covered in blood, still wet and cooling against my skin.

Crimson stained my clothing and hair. I remembered what Galen taught me: look the demon in the eyes.

Use the minimum force necessary to end suffering.

Strike cold, without malice, to execute a clean death.

I wore the evidence that I could not, that although I triumphed, I’d failed.

“Master Seyla, can you heal my brother?” Asher’s voice tightened, turning to the older woman with brown and blue ringed eyes.

Seyla looked to the other two for their opinion, holding a cautious neutrality on her wizened features. Soren gave a curt nod, then turned away from me.

Seyla approached, placing her hand on my chest. A tingling blue light emanated from her touch, cool and bitter, a brush of soft velvet before a hundred needle pricks. I bit back a groan at the sensation.

“ Mar. ” Seyla’s brow furrowed as she pulled her hand away.

“What?” Asher’s head whipped up. He’d been walking toward Soren.

Seyla met my gaze. “Hate, darkness,” she explained in Chaeten. “Too much to burn away as I heal you.”

“I know what ‘Mar ’ is,” I said in the fluent Asri she should have heard me speak by now. “My Taam was an elder.”

Seyla pressed her lips tight. “You don’t need me. Heal yourself, Chaeten-sa.”

“What?”

She scowled and stepped away.

Soren turned on his heel, his eyes cold. “Asher, your brother must leave by the morning. And if we ever see him at his lover’s side, we will kill him too.” The threat hung in the air. He took a long deep breath with eyes closed to control his rage, the snow melting into his black cloak.

I hung my head.

“The Red Demon won’t stand a chance against my master, Reic, Keeper of Dreams. I’m confident all other networks in the Underground will unite around this. We will kill her.” Soren shifted his stance, eyes on me. “How do you feel about that, friend?”

“I don’t know, Soren.” The words tore at my heart on the way out: the truth.

“Asher, if we need to speak more, we will do so in private,” Soren said, before walking toward the huddle of prisoners, the few that Faruhar had not killed.