Chapter 124: Hung in Desires

Chapter 124: Hung in Desires

Chapter 124

Hung in Desires

Silence reigned between two silhouettes who cast long shadows that warped into the thin and branching trees. Roaring flame shone as brightly as it could yet still struggled to alight the drowning darkness of nature that surrounded it as well as the heavy clouds of muddied truth that pressed from above.

Sylas remained silent as he tried to recollect and recall as much as he could about everything. There were millions of memories struggling for his attention in his head, some more so desperately than the others, but their importance could not be measured through that alone. In the muddy waters of the countless images, he recalled the very first time he met the deads Emperor--it was a distinctly non-friendly meet, what with the figure threatening the racial war from the onset.

And yet, the woman claimed otherwise. She claimed no interest in anything human beyond shallow trinkets and petty desires. Taking a swig of the extremely addictive wine, Sylas sighed once again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His breath was toxic, in part due to wine, but in part because he was trying to exorcise the seas of doubt within him. As always, he couldnt trust anything--for all what was said could hardly be seen as truth, and instead was just one of the many potential realities.

Rather than focusing on the details, however, he elected to look at the larger frame. Even if the nitty-gritty aspects of everything were wrong, the framing remained consistent through most tales: the Empire before the coming of Kingdoms was powerful, vast, likely far more magical. And it was beaten and defeated and entirely wiped from history. That was what caused Sylas the most hangups.

Erasing an entire Empire from the books and collective memories was not easy--it was either through world-scale magic, or through the absolute, dogged terror that saw everyone who spoke of the Empire end up headless. Generations of such terror will easily distort the truth and reality and those in power can swap it with whatever they wish. But that was another issue: they didn't. In every history book Sylas read, there was just a gaping hole before the Kingdom's founding. None of the historians even bothered to come up with a backstory to the entire thing--the most he saw were the simple 'men arrived in search of the holy land and found it'.

Everything surrounding both the Empires existence as well as its fall was shrouded in inconsistencies, lies, and half-truths. And those few that seemed to know something were really keen on saying nothing.

What do you think she meant, Agnes suddenly broke the silence. When she said I could have been much more?

Hm? Sylas looked up from the fire and met her gaze. She seemed disturbed and scared, as though her heart feared the truth more than the lies. I dont know, he replied. Could have meant anything. She was one cryptic bitch.

Was she? Agnes quizzed yet again. She answered truthfully whatever you asked.

... if you asked me if I were an immortal, Sylas said. And I replied only for a time, I would be both truthful and cryptic. I imagine that you being far more means your magic would be stronger. If the destruction of the Cairns has something to do with the weaker magic as she implied, and the magic of a Prophet is still strong enough to bore through the realms and reach gods, its possible you could have, like, fucked a mountain with your finger. Though, to be honest, this soft one suits you better. I cant imagine you grinning like a madwoman, going around and yanking heads off their necks.New novel chapters are published on

... the more we unveil the truth, she said. The more it seems that it stayed hidden for a reason, Sylas. Doesnt it feel as though we are poking at something that should remain undisturbed?

Can I ask you something personal?

Wow, she exclaimed softly. If youre asking for permission... it has to be something insane. So, no. Obviously.

Why do you always pull over a shell whenever we meet someone new? his question seemed to stir something in her as she quickly looked away.

As I said. No.

Hey, hey. We gotta talk and stuff.

Not yet.

Haah, fine, he sighed. But Im not a patient man. I dont have that much time to wait!

Ugh.

Ha ha ha...

His laughter ran whole as they began their trek toward the castle. Over three miles away from the walls, Sylas realized something was off--the smell was different. He frowned and sped up, and though Agnes noticed something was off with him, she didnt ask, simply matching it.

The two covered the distance relatively quickly and chanced upon something that caused Sylas to audibly sigh while Agnes gasped in horror. The castle was... on fire. The dead and the living were fighting still, the clashes of steel and the blood of the flesh decorating the massive yard. Cursing under his breath, he crossed into the castle's grounds and saw that they'd been fighting for a while and that the dead were winning.

It didn't take a genius to realize that this was an anomaly triggered specifically by his meeting with that woman. Agnes and he had ventured north before and fought the dead just the same, but this had never happened. He was angry. Frustrated. Bordering insanely wanting of someone's head. Was it the woman? Unlikely. She was far too strong to play petty tricks. If she wanted to, she could have just killed Sylas and destroyed the castle without all the games.

Who was it then? Possibly the very same people she told him to hunt down. Maybe those shadows that had gone silent. And maybe it was the faes and the fairies and maybe it was the gods themselves and maybe it was all in his head. At this point, he just wanted it to stop.

"What do we do?" Agnes asked in a panic.

Whats there to do? Sylas shrugged, drawing out his sword. Look around for anything that can talk and beat the truth out of it. If theres nothing that can talk, reset the damn thing and weep in frustrations once again. Gods, I hate this world. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. This is worse than when games just toss ten thousand more enemies at you as means of making it more difficult. Fuck this world, fuck that chick, and fuck whoevers behind this shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.