Page 79 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Seventy-Nine

LENA

T he world slowed as the cursed weapon went straight through Silas's chest, pinning him to the altar behind him, a trail of crimson pouring out.

“NO!” I screamed as Silas choked, his eyes blowing wide. I flailed out, the sword at my neck digging into my skin.

I didn’t care if they slit my throat. I couldn’t live without him. I wouldn’t want to.

“You fucking bastards!” Roland bellowed, just as Viola broke into a sob, Edmund roaring in despair.

The soldier freed me from his grasp as Silas groaned in agony. I instantly rushed to him.

I sobbed, my cuffed hands holding his face as I stumbled over him. “No…I can’t live without you.”

“Yes, you can.” His hand trembled as he reached for my cheek, brushing away tears. “I love you so much…I only wish we had more time together.” He coughed, blood dripping from his mouth.

I cried harder.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” I wept.

“D-don’t be, Flower. This was not for nothing.” He pulled me into a kiss, my lips on his for a fleeting moment before he cried out at the pain from the curse.

“No…this can't be happening…”

He gave me a broken smile. “I am so grateful I found you again. You have made me truly content, something I never thought possible to feel again.”

I choked on a sob at the same time as he did.

“But you know the best part?” he whispered, resting his forehead against mine. “I got to fall in love with you all over again. Not that I had ever stopped.” He struggled to breathe, stifling a cough.

“I never stopped either, Silas,” I wept, my eyes falling to the blood that poured out of him. “Fuck, let me heal him, please!” I begged.

The soldier laughed. “You could try, but there is no cure for the Undead’s curse.”

My panicked eyes went to Erabella, who continued to stare at us with no emotion.

“How could you do this?!” I hissed, clinging to Silas's arms.

“Okay, that’s enough theatrics,” the soldier drawled. As he went to pull me away, Silas held my hand tight.

“Lena,” he murmured, tears falling down his cheeks as his golden eyes fixated on me. “Stop him…you're the only one who can.” He swallowed. “You will not give up,” he choked.

“Silas,” I shook my head rapidly. “ Please… ” I cried .

“You will not break.”

The guard grabbed me underneath my arms, and I flailed my limbs out as hard as I could.

“NO!” My efforts were futile; I had no magic or way of healing my lover.

When they began tugging me away, a sad smile formed on Silas's face. “I love you, Lena.”

“I love you more than anything,” I wailed. “Gods, no…please no…”

His eyes were barely open now, his breathing slow and uneven.

I resisted as much as I could, fighting back as they attempted to lug me and my friends out of the temple. That is until a sharp pain blossomed from the back of my head, and my vision turned black.

I woke up in a carriage, the bumps in the road jolting me awake.

My hazy vision darted between my friends, all awake, none of them talking. Elowen was weeping quietly, her head resting on Edmund’s chest. Viola sat next to her, her own tears staining her cheeks. I sat up, noting that my head had been resting on Torrin's shoulder. Roland was to my other side, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes red.

“H-how long have I been out?” I whispered.

“Almost an hour,” Torrin said softly, looking sadder than I had ever seen him before.

“Silas?” I cried .

Silence.

“Ravaiana abandoned us,” Elowen uttered with a blank stare. “Even in her own temple…she spurned us.”

The journey to Halsted took three days, days that passed like years and like seconds at the same time. The townspeople scrutinized us in disgust as they peeked inside our carriage.

I couldn't care less what they thought of us.

Merrick was dead.

Hendry was dead.

Silas…

I shook my head to banish away the tears. I was surprised any remained after how much I had cried.

Silas was dead. There was no possible way he had survived the Undead's curse.

I clenched my fists tightly, unable to wield magic as Otacian cuffs bound my wrists.

I still couldn’t accept it. I cried as I pictured how he must've suffered in his final moments.

How did I fuck up this badly? It was seen that Silas would determine the fate of Magekind…how could he do that dead?

Dead…

I thought back to what Kayin had said in Temple Tithara.

“I wish things could go differently.”

She cried as she had me tell Silas how much she loved him. She knew of his fate, didn't she?

You will not break.

I would kill King Ulric. I would kill every soldier who chose to obey him. I didn’t care if they had families. I didn’t care if it would scar my soul. Nothing mattered anymore except seeking revenge and freeing my people and innocent humans from this man’s reign—this monster .

Once my duty was complete, I would join Silas in the afterlife.

Until then, I could not break.

I was shoved into a dank, dark cell only lit by two oil lamps. I was light-headed, and my mouth was dry due to three days without food or water.

I was chained to a chair. About to be interrogated, no doubt.

When a soldier entered the room, I debated finding a way to snap his neck. But when I saw he carried water in his hand, I refrained from any attempt. Not that I really had a chance of successfully doing so.

I didn't recognize him from our travels. His deep green hair flipped out from where it rested along his jawline; his whiskey eyes narrowed as he stepped over with a waterskin.

“Thank you,” I rasped before I tilted my head back, guzzling down the water as he poured it into my mouth.

I couldn't wait to kill him and every soldier here.

“The prisoners hardly get fed,” he said simply. “When you are given food, I recommend hiding some of it and spreading it out over the course of a few days.”

I gave him a fake smile. “Thanks for the advice,” I muttered.

“Asael!” Someone pounded on my cell door, and the green-haired man tilted his gaze back. “Cedric will be down any minute. Will you be joining him?”

My Gods.

“I'll be out in a second,” Asael responded, and the man outside the door grunted before his steps could be heard fading away.

“Asael…” I breathed. “Asael Nefeli?”

His caramel eyes flared. “How do you know me?”

“You’re the painter from Faltrun. Why are you a Halstedian soldier?”

“I am not at liberty to share that information with you,” he answered as he turned to leave.

“Wait!” I called out, and Asael slowed his steps. “My name…is Lena Daelyra.”

He froze.

“You…you're supposed to save me.”