Page 46 of The Ballad of a Bard

H e felt the tug on his soul. The very thing that bound him to this mortal plane, his heart crying out at something to the far east of Hisaith. To the Empire of Tazali, he knew in his heart of hearts. Heartache knew what lay there, who called him home. Because there was only one person in this realm that he trusted enough to leave behind his most valuable item, his artefact.

Only one person clever enough to figure out how to use it, how to summon him back in their most desperate times. Only one person that he’d happily rush back to if they needed him.

The artefact that controlled him should have been the most valuable thing in his life, but it wasn’t.

Because those would be his children.

Even if Cobalt wasn’t biologically his, he loved that child more than life itself. Wanted nothing but the best for him as he grew into a strapping young lad. Which was why he’d left when the boy came out. When he’d seen the thick, sable hair and known instantly that something had happened to the love of his life .

Before her dying breath, she’d sobbed and told him the truth. A secret so dark, that she’d never wanted to share it in fear that it would come back to haunt her. And yet, it was the very reason for her death. Because Cobalt was not his son. And she’d only ever willingly entered the bed with him.

From the moment she died, Heartache had issued a curse towards the man who took advantage of her. A curse so powerful, that it latched onto him and his bloodline. So from his first hacking gulps of air, the newborn boy had begun to slowly inch closer and closer to death. The last piece of the love of his life, and Heartache had killed him before he’d even begun to live.

So from that day forth, he’d sworn to hunt down the man that he’d cursed, and find a way to undo it all before it claimed Cobalt’s life. If it hadn’t already. There was a good chance that Crimson hadn’t been able to stave off any infection, that everything she tried may have already resulted in his life becoming forfeit.

He hoped not.

He’d spent the last eight years desperately searching for Cobalt’s true father in hopes of ending his act of madness in a horrible time. It was all his fault, and he swore to himself that he would not rest until he achieved it.

But now, he paused his hunt on Valkrigge, towards where the man had been spotted last. Because Heartache physically could not step another foot towards his destination. Not whilst his daughter held his amulet and summoned him to Tazali with that damning will of hers.

He’d have to go to her.

To face her after he’d left in a rush.

Heartache hated the way that everything ended, and knew that his daughter hated him for it. He could feel it strongly inside every cell of himself as her loathing pumped strong. Even as a young girl, her emotions had been some of the most powerful that he’d ever seen in his immortal life. Including himself. He knew that her powers would only amplify that, only create a similar source to his powers.

Crimson.

His beloved daughter.

There was a part of him that longed to see her after all this time, for hating that he’d been unable to assist her after leaving. But all of his attention, all of his focus had been sent towards finding the man that hurt the love of his life. Because the sooner he ended the curse he’d enacted, the sooner he could go home to his family and open up that vulnerable side of himself once more.

Heartache sighed as his daughter called for him again, his talisman firmly within her reach. He’d never told anyone about how to work it, a secret that he would take to his grave. But her? His very flesh and blood? Crimson would be the one to figure it out, to make it work.

That was pride he felt for her.

For the clever, cunning thing she must have grown up to be.

He’d halted his planning, abandoning the multiple maps he’d laid out on the worn table surface and dropped the charcoal stub before it could fall from his hands and shatter upon impact along the floor. He’d scoured every inch of the other continents for the man, and hadn’t seen a single sign of him. But he’d immediately know when he came across him.

Because the curse directly linked to his heart, which meant that Heartache would be inexplicably drawn towards it. Killing the man, now that would end the curse and allow Cobalt to live a full, happy life without any death calling ailments. Something he couldn’t wait to do.

But now another mission called to him .

He turned towards his bags in the corner of the dingy apartment and began to riffle through them, double checking that he had everything he needed to leave. He could always come back and finish it up once he’d returned home to his daughter, to see why she tugged on his heartstrings now, after all this time.

He imagined that she wanted nothing to do with him, meaning that whatever circumstance had led her to summon him, was of the utmost importance. One he would not take lightly. Not when it involved the remainder of his family.

Please, Heartache. For Cobalt’s sake, come home.

He heard her soft, pleading voice in the inner channels of his mind and lost a breath. It wasn’t a girl, a child of eighteen that he’d left behind that spoke to him now. It was a woman, fully grown and missing her father for those primal years of her life.

But for Cobalt’s sake.

His son was alive and the positive news filled him with a burning light that he never wanted to fade.

So Heartache grabbed his bags, slung them over his shoulder. He grabbed his maps and hastily rolled them into a tube and tied them off with a cord before shoving them into the closest pockets of his bags. He checked his reflection in the tiny mirror, noting the heartache that rimmed his light blue eyes, the shagginess of his scarlet hair that needed a trim.

He ignored it all and strode for the door, tossing it open. With each step closer to the calling in the east, the lead that pressured him seemed to let up. Inch by inch, second by second. He’d sail back to Tazali, across the Withering Sea, as long as he could find Crimson again.

There was no worry that streaked through his head, no anxiety that pounded like a drum in his tight chest. There was nothing except her call, repeating over and over again in his very soul, grabbing onto the thing of his existence and keeping him tethered towards the one goal that took over every other thought he had.

Come home.

Come home.

Come home.

Heartache avoided the shady looking woman who sold herself by the entrance of the worn down apartment he’d been staying in, past the baker’s boy who tried to pickpocket passersby and around the corner where those without homes remained. Hungry dogs chased after mangy cats and bored children followed suit on bare feet. He turned down the alley that led towards the shipyard, fumbling around his pocket for the fare that he’d have to pay the captain. Whichever ship looked the fastest, that was the one he’d board.

No matter the price.

He would sell a pint of his magical, heart-stirring blood if it meant covering the cost of a trip home and finding his daughter once again.

Come home.

Come home.

Come home.

Heartache came across three boats in the harbour, two about to set sail by the way their mast’s unfurled and their sails dropped from tall heights. Men shouted to each other on the deck, working in tandem to prepare everything before shoving off the harbour. The one with the massive hull was flying the orange and brown colours of Pitrye, no doubt heading home after a week of trading spices and rum for much needed textiles.

That one wouldn’t suffice.

The second one, the smallest out of the three, bore blue and yellow, Valkrigge’s colours. Which meant that that ship had only just docked, and wouldn’t be sailing anywhere any time soon, regardless of how many crowns one had in their pockets.

But the third, bold and beautiful with a red and purple flag high on the mast, proudly waving in the dawn, was the one for him. Because those were the Empire’s colours, and he knew that they’d be headed home soon. Heartache made for it, checking that he had everything once again as he gripped the leather handle of his satchel and walked up the gangplank. A couple of the crew’s members stopped their tasks to take a gander at him, whisperings arising about who he was.

It wasn’t hard when Heartache looked like heartache come alive.

The pale skin that represented how easily the heart could fail, could fall, could become heartsick. The broken glass eyes that showed just how much one could handle, and still become the most beautiful thing in the world to the right person. The crimson hair that bore the colour of blood, which violently pumped through every vein to keep the pumping muscle alive.

He ignored them and found the captain of the ship instead. The man seemed to have the same idea as he hopped down the stairs that led up to the wheel and crossed his arms over his round chest as he approached.

“We’re not looking for trouble here.” He murmured in a quiet voice. He backed away a few steps, hand resting on the railing of the ship.

“Nor am I.” Heartache responded swiftly. “I only need safe passage to Tazali and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

The captain seemed to pause, thinking over the positive and negative sides to adding a Saint to his crew. At last he dipped his head once in approval. “Fine. But double the cost of a normal passage, just in case we run into trouble. ”

“Fine.” He dropped the six crowns into the awaiting palm. “But I won’t be coming out of the cabin, so you won’t have to worry about trouble.”

The man counted them, finding it adequate and shoved them in his pant pocket. “One more thing. What’s so important to you that you need to get to Tazali?”

Heartache, Connor, cast out his gaze towards the looming continent in the distance. One day, and he’d be back.

“Home.”