Page 69 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

Path

T he Underground safehouse emerged from swirling snow, candlelight in the window flickering in the gathering dark. I knew what those candles meant to the Asri, lit to remember those they’d lost.

As we neared the entrance, the door swung open, revealing Mira bathed in warm golden light. I felt a wave of relief so powerful it left me breathless. She frowned, her chest heaving at the sight of the small party—until her gaze landed on me, then Asher.

With a choked cry, she fell into Ash’s chest. He held her tight and lifted her bare feet out of the snow. I watched them for a moment, needing to borrow a little of their joy.

Her body went rigid when she turned to me. Ash set her down as she stared at my blood-soaked clothes, torn rags under the cloak, the crimson smears staining my face and arms.

“Yeah, you don’t want to hug me right now,” I said with a brittle laugh.

The concern in her eyes was a storm, and I turned away before it broke.

Inside, I took a long time in the bath, testing my new skill: feeling the pain of my cracked ribs already healing, turning the wave of pain away.

But I let all that focus go, needing the judgment of that silence, lit only by candles inside my room.

I knew Ash would tell Mira everything, and that I could not.

My mind lay wounded and immobile, even if the rest of me would heal.

No member of the Underground would so much as look me in the eye when I walked down the creaking stairs to join Ash and Mira for a meal. Two cloaked figures promptly left the kitchen. But Mira finally gave me that hug, and I got a face full of her black hair as she nestled into my shoulder.

I winced, pain lancing my side. “Maybe go light on the broken ribs.”

Her eyes scanned me again, lingering on my chest. I shifted my weight. Disbelief flickered across her features. “They wouldn’t heal you?”

I shook my head, breathing deep. “It didn’t work. They told me to ‘heal like a Chaeten-sa,’ whatever that means.”

“Oh.” She brushed a stray strand of hair from my forehead to look at a bruise, her touch feather-light.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smile or cry at that gentleness, but I knew I needed every bit of the love radiating from her.

“Chaeten-sa can focus on a wound to heal it, with practice. They only keep the scars they choose.”

I couldn’t hide the panic at that, how deep I retreated, breathing fast, thinking of a Chaeten-sa who kept every scar.

With love in her eyes, Mira turned my head to face her, sensing my pain.

“I’m all right, Mira,” I assured her, squeezing her hand. “Starving, though.”

After some food in my stomach and a steaming mug of something herbal, I settled into the cushions. “How’d your release of the SBO code go, Mira?”

Mira straightened her posture in the booth across from me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Flawless. You will love this, I think.” She dug around on the shelf beside her for her tablet.

I took another sip of bitter tea.

A wry smile twisted her lips. “Getting past the front door was easy enough with the ID card, but the real challenge was the security protocols. The Disciples of Reic are certainly stronger for allowing Chaeten into their network. Apparently, they are the only Underground network that does. They got it done.”

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes gleaming with a spark of mischief before she passed the tablet to me.

The headline on the screen cut through the dim light: QUEEN AZARA RELEASES SBO-PREVENTION MOD. INFECTIONS LINKED TO GHOSTS.

I blinked, looking up at Mira.

“It’s everywhere. Sent to every temple in the Nara, marked mandatory to post. Keep reading.”

I did. South Bend Outbreak (SBO), the disease that has ransacked the southern islands of Noé and Ment, will no longer be a threat to the citizens of the empire.

The disease, which the queen reveals works by attracting the ruren-sa left from Nara Mnaet’s civil war, had previously been a death sentence to those infected. The simple mod works by...

“Why give the queen credit? She may be in on this, for all we know,” I said, scratching my head.

Mira smiled, crossing her arms. “Let’s say she is—that for some reason, she wants her people dead.

The code is out there, and with her name on it, I guarantee it’s already been sequenced, applied.

She can’t contradict something that works.

And if she’s been lying about the virus or its cause before now, she’ll have some serious explaining to do to the empire nobles. ”

Asher kissed Mira’s head. “Brilliant, isn’t she?”

“Ash, stop eyefucking a sec,” I said, just to be a dick. Once Mira gave my bandaged arm a playful slap for that, I followed up with, “Okay, what if Queen Azara is innocent?”

Mira’s eyes sparkled. “Well then, she’ll rake Mahakal’s reputation over the coals, and we’ve just strengthened her position. She should thank us.”

A genuine, full-bodied laugh escaped my lips, echoing in the small kitchen. “Yeah, I like it.”

She scrolled down, her brow furrowing. “We should pay close attention to the next bulletins in the temple. General Alexander and the queen haven’t responded yet.

Even if Queen Azara tries wiping our bulletin and code schematics off the network, the Underground will supply me with reagents to keep producing the anti-SBO mod for them. ”

Asher's and Mira’s faces glowed in the warm light of the hearth fire.

Sometimes, when things seem dark or hopeless, I set my brightest and most hopeless memories in my head, imagining them side by side to let the warmth of a good day triumph over the dark.

A scared boy alone in the forest knew this day was coming, and I filled his heart with what overfilled me then; what I saw reflected in the faces I loved.

When dark days come again, that moment has enough life to spare—Ash relaxed by the fire, his eyes full and content, Mira leaning into his shoulder, turning to smile at me too. This is all I needed.

Soren entered the kitchen a moment later, breaking the spell. “Asher, can we talk?” he said, ignoring me. With a sigh, I got up toward the stairs, mumbling about needing to get some sleep.

I could smell Faruhar in my room, a wave of salt and green and fire so strong I had to search the closet to see if she was hiding, but I only found her bag. This was a fresh gift from Mahakal’s code—I realized—the intensity and color of an aroma I smelled for the first time but recognized at once.

Her bag, a worn and patched up canvas, was not her, but I hugged it tight to my chest all the same.

Just two days ago, I’d told Faruhar I’d always love her.

I’d held her to my body in a cozy room so much like this one, wanting a lifetime of nights like it.

I gripped that bag, fighting sleep, fighting thought, knowing that there was no way to win.

A knock on the door, gentle.

“Come in,” I said.

Asher, his face grim, Istaran’s green and gold sheath strapped on his back.

“Jesse?” I could hear so much concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

He stepped in and closed the door, leaning on the dresser across from me, gripping the wood tight.

“What should I do?” I whispered.

Asher shook his head. “You know your own path, Brother.”

“Taam would tell me what to do.” It was hard to speak. Blinking, I leaned my head against the headboard. “What would he say?”

Asher weighed that. He sighed, a deep sound, steady as the tide. “The soul has a path it must follow, and it will languish if it loses its way.”

I rubbed my hand through my hair, the weight of the decision pressing heavy.

“Do you mind if I borrow Istaran again?”

“Borrow?” He swallowed, removing the blade from his back.

“Galen was your father first. Your blood, not mine.” I choked on the words, unable to hide from them. “Everyone else seems to know the difference.”

Asher paused a minute, giving me a moment to get a hold of myself. He pulled me into a tight hug. “Brother,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.” He pulled back, his hand gripping mine above Istaran. “Take it.”

I stared at the sword, the weight of its history, letting it settle in my hand.

It had never glowed for Faruhar, or Mahakal, whose code now ran through my veins.

I was afraid to unsheath it with the hands that had tortured Mahakal at his death, the actions it would judge me for.

So I told Ash about directed microsomething, the words tumbling out in a torrent.

When I finished, Asher pulled my forehead to his, his grip unyielding. “Nothing will ever change what you mean to me,” he said, voice fierce.

I took in a long breath, borrowing his strength before he clapped my shoulder and pulled back.

I couldn’t delay this forever. My hands trembled on Istaran’s familiar hilt, pulling it a few centimeters from its sheath. A faint blue light emanated from the engraving etched along the blade.

“It’s … not as bright,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Asher’s face softened. “You’ll do better. It trusts you; so do I. But you need to get Istaran out of here. You can guess what Soren already asked me to do with it. They’re going after Faruhar tomorrow.”

I pushed the pain away, all of it, as the path cleared. I grabbed my bag from under the bed, shoving Faruhar’s pack inside mine.

“Don’t wait for me for the wedding. I’m sorry. I don’t know how long this will take.” I took a deep breath. “Where are you headed next?”

“Nunbiren. We want to say goodbye,” he said, his lip twitching up. “And I’ll dig up my century robe from the training clearing. Mira is happy you saved that.”

I nodded, unable to smile back.

He frowned at that, drummed his hands on the dresser. “Mira wiped out all the records on the network about us she could find. No one will recognize our code if we’re scanned somewhere,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Istaran will let you know when I’ve secured your couch.”

I let out a huff of air.

For a moment, I thought about telling Ash just how stupid I was, to tell him about a life I dreamed up a few days ago.

Faruhar, Asher and I would train in our clearing each morning, and we’d huddle together for dinner in the kitchen above the forge.

We’d need to expand a bit, maybe build out that house next door that Galen had already chosen.

Far would forage while we rebuilt the town, and Mira would make money selling unlicensed mods, and be smart enough to figure something else out if she got caught.

I’d rebuild brick by brick in the soil where the ancestors knew my name, and Faruhar would stand with me for each step, healing a little each day until she never forgot anything again.

Ash would play his mandolin over dinner for all of us, until sooner than was sensible, Mira would tell me I had a niece or nephew on the way.

I was a stupid, stupid man.

Looking into Asher’s eyes, brimming with concern, I knew I didn’t need to say anything. He knew me. He knew it all. I settled the bag on my back.

“Ash, I need you to promise me something,” I said, low and serious. “If I ever…” I pulled out Istaran again, its glow reassuring. “You saved me a long time ago. Keep saving me. I—don’t let me become a demon.”

“Always.” The weight of his gaze settled on me, unwavering. “My heart and mind are with you.”