Chapter 126: A Cruel Man

Chapter 126: A Cruel Man

Listen, and you will hear a truth: each of us holds a world within, and no two are alike. So different are these worlds that none could tell what truth has made itself known, yet even so we may recognize it as truth.

Listen again, and deepen what you have learned: the many truths within exist in harmony, and each bears as much worth as its fellow. But where they seek to once again enter the world, they must reconcile to become one truth. The world is shared between all beings, and thus must all truth be shared.

Not all of the evils of men have their root here, but many do. We draw blood and shed tears to assert our truth upon the world; at the end of all things there remains space for only one to stand.

Do not abandon your truth, for it is you in a way that even your flesh cannot equal. It is a reflection of your inner self, and must be defended lest no hint of you ever emerge into the world, and all of your wonder perishes unseen.

Yet - choose your struggles carefully. Without the voice of caution, you shall be lost to grief as your precious truths are cast down. No man may win every battle. Some men may win one. If greed tempts you to more, weigh your worth with great discernment before giving it heed.

- The Book of Eight Verses, the Verse of Blood. (New Kheman Edition, 542 PD)

It took much longer to make the trip out to Raven House than the last time Michael had come. Aside from their lack of a carriage, they found several streets on their route that had been blocked by collapsed buildings or hastily-erected barricades.

None of these were problematic obstacles for Michael, of course, but he did not feel like drawing undue attention to himself while he was here. The quiet of the city was unnerving, and the lack of any response to their arrival had begun to wear on him. It felt wrong that anyone should be able to walk blithely down the streets of the capital unchallenged.

Unchallenged by authority, that is, for there were certainly a few men who aimed to stop them in their transit of the city. Michael had successfully frightened off observers here and there, but before they had left the boundaries of Calmharbor proper they found a barricade in their path, and men filing out from the surrounding buildings to cut off their escape.

One of them approached, holding a standard-issue army rifle casually against his shoulder; there was a lazy grin on his face. Rough times, he said.

Sobriquet laughed and stepped forward, not waiting to hear the rest of the clumsily-veiled threat; blurs of light danced next to every man on the street. A moment of silence passed while they sagged forward, their eyes rolling up into their heads. Michael only had time for a bemused look before the entire rough-clad greeting party was twitching on the cobbles.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

Abrupt, he noted, turning his attention to the barricade; it disintegrated into a pile of cold sawdust and metal shavings as they resumed their journey.

Im not about to let Daressan lives slip away while some mouth-breathing bandit indulges in theatrics, she said. Kinder this way, anyway; if I had let him ramble on to a point then I expect Zabala would have killed him.

There was the sound of a palm-sized, weighty rock clattering to the street. Im sure I dont know what youre talking about, Zabala said. I had every confidence in you and Michael to handle the situation appropriately.

Sobriquet raised her eyebrow. Very much appreciated. She looked around at the houses, which were beginning to grow tall and stately as they progressed away from the city. Many bore signs of looting. Gates were flung open and windows shattered; ominous dark stains marred the stone in places.

For the most part, though, the neighborhood was gripped by a deep and unsettling quiet. All around them were signs of lives interrupted, of homes once well-loved now cold and empty.

No more surprises ahead? Michael asked.

She shook her head. Itll truly be surprising, if there are. Most everyone around here is either gone or huddled in their coal cellar.

They know were here, Vernon said. Those coal-cellar residents, that is. Seems that were not the first group to come out here from the city. Other men, maybe those ones we ran into earlier, theyve been combing through houses for food, valuables - people, sometimes. He cocked his head slightly, his eyes distant. Not to be uncharitable, but it seems like killing them would have been justified. Not a pleasant crowd. Were not seeing anyone here because theyre all terrified of those men, or men like them.

Something to keep in mind if we meet again, Sobriquet muttered. But thats not why were here. Unless Im looking at the wrong patch of woods, were coming up on Sibyls house. She nodded ahead, to where the hills grew dark in the morning fog, grasping bare branches clutching upward.

Michael nodded and picked up their pace. Eventually the houses yielded to overgrown forest on one side, reaching out over the road with winter-bare boughs. They plodded along in silence until they came across the estates lone gate; the copper raven was still there, glaring balefully down at all passers-by. Without pausing, they turned and followed the track through the woods to Raven House.

It was a very different approach than before, with the skeletal winter trees clustering tight against the road. Rather than the impenetrable well of blackness that it had seemed on his last visit, the forest felt sparse, drained, a thicket of bones rattling their displeasure at the intrusion. They did little to hide the house, surrounded by the ruins of overgrown gardens and unkempt lawns. Plants lay dead and brown around the mansion, which showed neglect in its facade.

Sobriquet paused as they came into the clearing, surveying Sofias home. Thats seen better days, she noted.

I think most of us have, Michael sighed. He trudged down the remainder of the path towards the door, but before he had drawn close a voice rang out from inside.

Turn around. Leave the woods. Never return.

It rasped with a harsh command, one that curled its way into the ears of everyone listening. Michael saw Zabala frown, saw Vernons eyes glaze over. Brant was already facing out of the forest, while Sobriquet shook her head as if bothered by a particularly insistent fly-

Michael let his soul flow out, gently, countering the voices command. He kept it wrapped around the others as he continued to walk forward, raising one hand in greeting.

Hello, Vera, he called out. Id rather not leave just yet.

There was a long pause, followed by the noise of rapid footsteps from within the house. The door flung open to reveal Veras tousled blonde hair, a weary smile on her face. Michael, she breathed. She stepped cautiously from the doorway, as if unsure he was really there, then tottered forward to wrap him in an embrace. He returned it, gingerly. She was painfully thin, and in dire need of a laundress; nevertheless, her blank eyes crinkled in a smile when she pulled back to look at him.

Its so soon, she murmured, raising her hand to hover just shy of his burnt face. My sight is waning as Sofias does, and I didnt recognize- She paused. But its more than that, isnt it? Your face, your eyes. She let her hand drop and took a shaky step back, casting her sight around at the others who were - and werent - standing behind him. Her breath caught. What happened, Michael?

We fought the Ardans in Ghar, Michael said. Friedrich is dead, and his soul came to me. And - Im sorry, Vera. Charles and Lars died in the fighting.

Veras shoulders slumped, and she took a dazed step to one side. Oh. She clenched a fist spasmodically. Oh. She didnt mention - that.

Michael reached out to steady her with one hand, lightly gripping her shoulder. Vera let herself be guided back upright, her head coming up to look at Michael - though her face showed none of the grief that pounded from her in excruciating waves. But thats not why youve come, she said, quiet and matter-of-fact.

You seem to know a lot about why Id come to Ardalt, Michael said. In your note you took it for granted that Id be looking for Sofia. Why?

Because she talks about it, Vera rasped. Its all she talks about. She sees you in her dreams, at the end of every hallway and lurking in every closet, and its breaking her. She took a shuddering breath. I thought I could take her here to try and find some measure of peace.

Michael nodded slowly, buying a moment for her words to muddle together in his mind. Inviting me here seems to work counter to that goal.

I didnt think youd come looking for her so soon, she said. I thought shed get better, not worse. She turned her head up to Michael, her eyes tight with a tense fear. Whats happening, Michael? Some of the things shes said-

Coming! Isoldes voice replied brightly. Michael turned to see her walk out of a side door with a silvered tray. She set the tray down and kissed Sofia on the crown of her head. Anything else? More tea?

No, thank you, Sofia said. Stay a moment, look who came to visit.

Michael froze as Isoldes eyes came up to his own. There was the tiniest of twitches, a pang of revulsion that skewered through him in an instant - and was gone just as fast. Ghars blood, Michael? Isolde said, rushing over to his side. I thought I had heard - what happened to you? Your eyes- Her hand came up to hover near his cheek, then dropped to her side. Oh, no. Im not sure theres anything to be done for an injury like that.

Its - okay, Michael replied, clinging to the thread of the conversation like a drowning man; this entire experience was intensely wrong. Id actually determined not to heal them, to better explore my spector soul.

Isolde nodded once, sharply. Ive heard of such cases, she said, no small amount of disapproval in her voice. I wont press you on it, but do reconsider, if only for the neuralgia- Her voice caught, her fingers twitching; her eyes widened with sudden, momentary hatred-

She shook her head. Lost my train of thought, she mumbled. Thats happening more and more, and more. Her fists clenched. Tears glimmered in her eyes, and a trickle of saliva dripped from her lip. And more. And more. And more. And-

These are lovely, Isolde, Vera said, gliding up from her seat. Her voice was steady, though tears ran freely down her cheeks. Why dont I help you clean up in the kitchen?

Its no - sure, Isolde mumbled, letting herself be steered out of the room. The two women left, leaving Michael and Sobriquet alone with Sofia, staring appalled as she picked up a biscuit.

She took a bite, then set it down on the tray. A moment later she seemed to catch herself, sighed, and picked up the last bite, placing it in her mouth and chewing slowly - savoring the taste.

Shes remarkably functional, Sofia said, washing the biscuit down with a sip of tea. That, too, she set down deliberately, carefully. Compared to Sparks horrors. Whatever lessons Vera took from you, they seem to have had a profound effect. But after my disgust diminished - its still there, Michael, I assure you - one question pressed itself upon me with incredible, undeniable force.

Sofia stood from her chair to cast a dark look down at him. If that is what true compulsion looks like, she asked, then what did you do to Vera? She was as shocked as I was, when it happened. She was convinced, to the core of her being, that you had taken her souls ability to harm. To twist, to corrupt. Yet in one action she proved why that cant be the case. If not that, then - what was it?

Slowly, Michael stood. Past Sofia, to the side, he saw Vera standing in the doorway to the kitchen. There were still tears on her face, wet in the dim light. Almost nothing, Michael said, not daring to look away. I told her to listen to her remorse. I reminded her of who she wished she could be, and made her believe that I had wrought a great change in her. Other than that - no. He shook his head. I placed no other limits or compulsions on her.

Veras hand came up to her mouth; she sagged against the doorframe. Sofia began to walk slowly forward. I surmised as much, she said. At least, I entertained the idea that you had done no great wrong to Vera, as you and she both claimed. I began to retrace my sight forward from that starting point, follow the paths that perspective showed me. Absent Isoldes hatred, and as much as I could bear - absent my own. She paused when she was just shy of him, standing very close. Do you know what I saw?

A tragedy, I imagine, Michael replied softly. Because it has been that.

I saw a blind, foolish woman ruin her life, Sofia said, a rasp asserting itself in her voice. I saw myself send a friend to his death and drive another into exile. I saw my father alienated, suffering, forced to appeal to you because he saw no hope in what I had become. I saw myself killing innocents in the very War I abhorred, and-

Her voice had risen towards the end, and here it cracked; she balled a fist and slammed it ineffectually into Michaels chest. And you dodge all the blame, you fucker! she spat, drawing her fist back to punch him again, and again. You tried to tell me at every turn! And if you werent the most persuasive - thats still no excuse for fucking Sibyl - not to see - not to-

She collapsed to the floor, toppling backwards with her robe around her in a heap, struggling to draw breath through her anguish. Her eyes were sparking fire, locked on Michaels face. And the worst fucking part of it is that you dont kill me, she snarled. You dont - oh, dont look so surprised. There are futures where it happens. But not if I ask.

She gave a manic, choking laugh, stumbling forward on her knees. Not if I say, sorry, but Id rather not die - like I did just now, when you decided not to kill me. And thats - it. She let out a mad, choking laugh. I dont have to fight you. I dont have to run or rage or kill my friends, or watch the world drown in blood, or do any of the things I fucking did, because in the one place I cant see, the one place in the world thats opaque and terrifying to me, there was never anything but a man who wants to make everyone happy. Thats your fucking future, thats all it ever was, and the world shakes itself to pieces rather than let you have it-

Sofia was screaming now, hoarse and ragged, her robe flying open to expose her stained shift. Vera was standing in the door with both hands clasped over her mouth, weeping, while behind her Isolde pushed past with a furious look on her face.

You all need to go, Isolde said, tight and angry. Now. Youre upsetting Sofie-

Sofia pulled a small pistol from within her robe and shot Isolde in the forehead. It was a flawless shot; Isolde dropped to the floor even as Michael staggered back under the weight of her soul. He felt it less, these days, but the sudden shock of her death slammed into him sideways, blindly.

Vera screamed and dropped to her knees beside Isolde, turning her face furiously to glare at Sofia - who was watching Michael with intense focus.

She - came to you, Sofia whispered, letting the gun sag down in her grip. It was a military model, Michael noted absently, the same as any officers pistol from the Ardan camps. Thats enough, then. The act itself. She came to you-

Of course she fucking did, you crazy bitch! Sobriquet retorted, starting forward only to halt when Zabalas hand clapped onto her shoulder; the others filed in behind him, drawn by the gunshot. Michael felt the mans soul wrap around them all, a protective shield. She was always going to end up with him! Who was more obsessed with Michael than her?

Sibyl gave a croaking laugh. Youd be surprised, she said. You have - so many people attached to you, Michael, more than youd ever guess. Theyre dying in droves right now under the weight of that storm, yet how many souls have you gained? Hmm? She gestured wildly with the gun. How many since the storm started? Ten? Five? One? She bared her teeth. None?

A horrid feeling began to coil in Michaels gut, made worse by the burning of Isoldes presence, slowly growing hotter within him. Its been harder for me to feel them lately-

You would feel this, Sofia promised. Its death by torrents, by red floods, so many people caught unawares by it as the storm sweeps across the land - and so many that yearned for your embrace, hoped because of your example. Yet no. Souls. For. Michael. She tapped the gun against her leg. Because that thing in the storm isnt you. Not the same person. Not the same manifestation of that soul, and that means the rules are different. Its not affinity, with Luc. Who goes to him? Whats the rule, if not that?

She looked at Michael expectantly; Michael struggled upright, still clutching at his chest. He felt the hammering of his heart keenly. He touches them, he said. With his hand - my hand. Everyone Ive seen him steal, hes been touching them when they died.

Sofia began to laugh, slouching sideways back into her chair. She turned away from them, curled into a ball under her robe, muttering something under her breath.

Sobriquet looked down at her with exasperation, then at where Vera still knelt cradling Isoldes corpse in her arms. Every time I think these people cant get crazier, she muttered. What the fuck does she mean?

Michael shook his head, his thoughts racing. His chest burned. Luc always said that everything special about him came from me, from the hand. He treated himself like some useless lump stuck onto it. The hand was the real power. The hand was the- He paused. The hand was the power. The two were the same in his mind. He wasnt touching them with the hand-

Every fucking person in that storm! Sofia crowed. Everyone who dies to his light, everyone whose life is cut short by his souls! She fell out of her chair, staggering upright from the floor again.

And thats why youre cruel, she spat. Because you couldnt bear to take any of that evil upon yourself, you left a space for him. He gets to be the evil, the assertive, the choice that makes itself unless resisted. We cant be ignorant or fearful anymore, not like normal fucking people, no, we have to be better than that. We have to run towards you with all of our strength to survive, and if even that isnt enough - we can only blame ourselves, for being weak, and stupid, and - and inadequate to the world. She stared disconsolately at the ground. I see them even now. Failing and mumbling the words they think will save them. But it wont.

Her head came up to look at Michael; she was crying now, her eyes swollen and red and fully awake, here, in this moment. It wont. They choose, and fail, and its not enough. You have to act. I have to act, or the balance falls to ruin, because thats how your stupid rules made it work. You assume everyone can live up to your faith in them, and we cant! We fucking cant! We break, Michael.

Sofias voice was torn, bloody, escaping between shuddering breaths. And even if I hate you for being who you are, she hissed, for making my failures hurt this much - I am still Sibyl, you bastard, and Im not going to fucking fail anymore. She stood up straight and glared at him, loathing dripping from every angle of her form, redolent in her mocking tone as she spoke.

My soul to the One.

Sofias arm came up, and she shot herself in the head.