Chapter 46 - Those Who Care (Patreon)

“Can you stop sitting around and help me?” Amalia’s voice carried from the kitchen, sharp with irritation. She shot a pointed look at Quintin, who sat slouched in his chair, lost in thought.

“Sorry, sorry.” Quintin jumped up and crossed the kitchen in quick strides. He grabbed a dirty pan and coaxed water magic across its surface until it shone. “I’m just worried about Yen and the town. We hardly see her anymore, and when we do, she’s already caught up in something else. Everything here has changed so fast.”

“We can’t add more stress to her,” Amalia said, worry etched into her face. “Her friend was right, it isn’t safe for us right now. Still, I wish she were here.” She folded her arms, tapping her elbow with one finger.

“How about now?” I said, climbing through the open back window after pausing to listen. “Ta-da!”

They rushed me with hugs, both of them talking at once about how much they missed me. I had expected it, but the warmth still eased the tight knot in my chest.

When they finally let go, I sat at the kitchen table, fidgeting nervously.

“Spit it out,” Amalia said, her eyes fixed on me. “It hurts that you only come by when you need something, but at least you still come.”

“Th-That’s not true!” I protested, my cheeks burning.

“It’s what children do when they grow up,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “You’ll understand when you have your own.”

“Don’t put that on her.” Quintin pressed his fingers to his temples. “She’s too young.” His eyes hardened with fatherly authority. “How are things with Christopher?”

“And Nigel’s back too,” Amalia added, making things worse.

I tried to lighten the mood with a weak joke. “Do I have to pick between them?”

Neither of them laughed. Their flat looks made me groan and drop my head onto the table.

“I need advice,” I admitted finally, lifting my head.

Both of them straightened, hearing the seriousness in my tone.

I began with Edwin—his arrival, his strange claim of love—then told them about the idea that devils and emotions might be linked. To my surprise, they didn’t look shocked.

“You were a selfish kid,” Quintin said evenly. “Most children are, until they’re taught otherwise. I didn’t think it was strange.”

“But Nigel—” I began.

“Was unusually happy,” Amalia cut in. “You knew plenty of children. Was anyone else like him?”

“No,” I admitted quietly.

“Comparing yourself to Nigel doesn’t mean you were broken,” Quintin said. “If something had been wrong with you, we would have noticed.”

“You’re twisting my words,” I muttered, though a small smile slipped out. “Still… that’s a kinder way of seeing it.”

I went on in short bursts—skipping over Faragore since they already knew—summarizing the changes in Sandy Branch while they frowned and gasped. When I finished, they finally spoke.

“I don’t think that’s a choice we can make for you,” said Quintin.

“If Edwin truly cares for you, then you can guide what happens. Staying or leaving is your choice,” Amalia added.

“Not helpful,” I muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

“Yen, you were always meant for greater things,” Quintin said. “It was clear even before your eyes turned white. When they did, we knew for certain.”

“So you’ve said.”

“It would be a waste to stay here,” he went on. “If it were me, I’d take the chance to see the world. That doesn’t mean you won’t come back.”

“It might,” I said softly.

“It won’t,” Amalia said firmly. She leaned forward, hands pressing against the table. “And even if it does, that’s all right. A parent’s job is to raise a child who can face the world. We’ve done that. Whatever happens, we know you’ll succeed.”

I smiled gently and lowered my eyes, letting their words linger in the quiet kitchen.

•

“We’re seeing more people entering the town,” Atticus reported to Christopher from the top floor of Beginner’s Rest. Afternoon light spilled through the tall windows, turning drifting motes of dust into flecks of gold. From below came the faint hum of voices and footsteps, the steady rhythm of the tavern seeping into the quiet office. “After Yen...convinced the mercenaries and adventurers to leave, numbers dropped. But now, with rumors spreading that the Archdevils mean no harm, travelers are returning. They’re spending coin and hoping for a glimpse of the rumored beings they've heard so much about.”

“I see.” Christopher leaned forward on his desk, elbows braced, fingers folded together. The wood beneath him was smooth with years of use, and the chair creaked softly as he shifted. He studied Atticus, weighing every word.

“Baron Thorpe also sent a message.” Atticus produced a letter from his satchel and placed it on Christopher's desk. “To summarize, he wants to know if you’re still interested in the plans he spoke of during his visit, without going into any detail. Judging by his tone, he believes you’re tied closely enough to Paradise to stand as a King candidate, or at the very least a helpful revolutionary.”

Christopher scanned the letter, his lips tightening. Without hesitation, he touched the parchment to a candle flame. The fire licked across the page, curling its edges and filling the room with the sharp scent of smoke before it drifted to ash.

“He’s only chasing his own advantage.” Christopher’s voice was flat, though his eyes flashed with contempt. “Gai keeps us informed on Zalevet. We don’t need men like Thorpe clinging to us.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Atticus bowed stiffly.

Christopher allowed a faint smile. “Take the rest of the day off. You’ve done well.”

“Sir—”

“You are one of the most loyal men I've ever known. Don’t argue. Go enjoy yourself.”

Atticus looked startled, then bowed again, his voice shaky. “Thank you, sir.”

When the door closed, silence reclaimed the office. Christopher leaned back, the wood groaning beneath him, and tilted his head toward the ceiling. For a moment, he let out a long breath, the burnt parchment's smoke and ink in the air lingering like unwelcome fog.

“Hi!”

Christopher nearly jumped out of his chair. The room’s heavy air shifted instantly as I leaned over him, a sly smile tugging at my lips. My mere presence replaced the stillness with energy, chasing away the stale smoke as if I carried a breeze of my own.

“Heh, knew you’d fall for me,” I said, steadying the chair before it tipped over, sending Christopher to the ground. “My charm is just too much to resist.”

“I think my heart stopped.” Christopher clutched his chest, grinning weakly as sweat slid down his temple. “No warning...just horns and a wicked smile.”

I puffed my cheeks and playfully swatted the top of his head. “Meanie.”

“How am I the mean one?!”

I circled around the desk and knelt so my face was level with his. “We need to talk.”

“Oh great, another heart attack incoming.”

“Nothing bad.” I blinked and leaned closer. “Actually…”

I told him everything I had already shared with my parents. Much of it he knew, but I added the parts I had never spoken aloud before. By the time I finished, his jaw was tight, and worry clouded his eyes.

“You wanna come with me if I leave?" I asked. "Not that I've made a decision on anything yet. I'm just asking cause...you know..."

Christopher stared at me, the weight of the question settling on his face. “Is that even possible?”

I tilted my head. “Didn’t you say when we first met that you wanted to leave for the Broken Bits to escape your family? This kind of the culmination of that plan. We can even ask Gabby if she wants to come!"

“That’s not the same as Paradise.” He rubbed his hands together slowly. “Humans aren’t allowed there. And no, Gabby is safer here. She lived a hard life and has finally found steady happiness. The less she has to deal with our issues, the better. I want her safe."

"Fair. I agree. But you're not ruling yourself out." I hesitated for a moment, then gave a crooked smile. “There might be ways around it. We could even pretend you’re my hostage, mark and all, if it came to that.” My tone softened, aiming for playfulness instead of cruelty. “Wouldn’t that be ironic?”

Christopher leaned back, candlelight painting his features in soft gold. “It wouldn’t matter if I were bound to you.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, burning to the tips of my ears. “Ha, that…that sounded like a proposal.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with words unspoken yet understood.

“Anyways!” we both blurted at the same time.

Christopher broke first, his voice gentler now. “Do whatever you need to. I’ll be with you, no matter where you go.”

My heart swelled at his words. “Aww. I’m holding back the urge to make a joke and ruin this.”

“And I appreciate that,” he said with a laugh, though his gaze never left mine.

•

“I don’t care what you do, Yen,” said Lex. She sat with Gai in a corner booth tucked away from the noise. The tavern buzzed with small groups of people, floorboards creaking under shifting boots as mugs clinked together. The air smelled of spilled ale and woodsmoke, thick with the heat of too many bodies pressed close. Gabby had already brought us drinks and now watched from across the room, curious about our conversation. "Honestly, what happens to you takes up maybe two percent of my day." She paused. "Probably less."

"Ouch," I said, leaning across the table with a forced smile on my face, my eyes half-closed.

“It might not be bad if one of us goes to Paradise,” said Gai, moving past Lex's sly remarks. “Spread the business abroad. We’d probably have to fake being slaves, but it might be an opportunity.”

“Ha! Yeah. The business. Great. You can do it,” Lex replied bluntly. “Freedom’s amazing. I'll stay here with the booze, food, and people that don't hate me.”

“Opportunity through vice can be worth the risk," stated Gai bluntly. 

“Like I said, you can do it.” She paused. "I'm getting kind of tired of the risks."

Gai crossed his arms and leaned back, shadows flickering across his face from the lantern overhead. “I guess I can go. It’d be a good chance for us. We lost most of our people during the Port Prosper takeover. We don’t have the muscle to follow through on what needs doing. And we’re not taking in Dark Market leftovers.”

“If we don’t replace what was, something worse will rise to fill the gap. Yeah, yeah.” Lex waved him off. “Heard that a billion times.”

“We were talking about me,” I teased.

“We do that too much already,” Lex shot back.

“Ouch.”

“Strategically, getting Edwin on board with you as Ambassador of sorts is the best move,” said Gai. “But you’ll still need to go to Paradise eventually, whether you want to or not. The politics around being an Archdevil are too strong now that you’re known to them.”

“I’m well aware of that,” I admitted out loud for the first time. “The moment my horns became common knowledge, it was only a matter of time. It was either return to Paradise or die. Wasn't a third option available to me.”

“And people have tried,” said Lex. “We saw the ledgers in the Dark Market.”

“All failures,” I said.

“Obviously."

Thoughtfully, I turned to Gai after considering all his words and what he told me days prior. “There’s no Tycho, and your organization is basically in shambles?”

“Correct,” Gai said with a grin.

Lex’s eyes narrowed, sharp as daggers. “Why does she know that much?”

“I’m more concerned about how you’re getting all this information,” I said.

“Lex and I worked as mercenaries. We made contacts everywhere,” Gai explained. “A lot of people owe us favors. They’re happy to answer a few questions when asked.”

“Plus plenty of bribes in the right places,” Lex added with a sigh, resigned. “Might as well tell her the real reason we came.”

“Please do," I said.

“I wanted you to become Tycho,” Gai admitted.

I frowned. “What?” It was getting hard to keep track of Gai's true intent. For all I knew, this was another lie or obfuscation of the truth, and the next time we'd talk, their backgrounds would be completely different. 

It almost felt like they really didn't...like they didn't have reasons to even be in Sandy Branch. Or that they had some sort of game plan well beyond what I could imagine. One of the two, surely.

“Not a bad thing, right? Absolute fear and power tied to a name," he continued. "I’ve been looking for a figure to rally people around. You seemed like a good fit.”

“Seemed?” I questioned.

“I’ve kind of given up on the plan,” Gai admitted with a crooked grin. “I’m more of a—”

“He lost his drive after destroying the Dark Market. Now he seeks purpose,” Lex interrupted.

Gai’s face stiffened. His eyes locked on hers, cold and sharp.

The air in the tavern shifted. A silence stretched too long, even the chatter of nearby tables fading into uneasy whispers.

“You’re brilliant, powerful, and cunning,” Lex said, holding his gaze. “But revenge leaves nothing behind. When you win, all you’re left with is emptiness and years of living to strive for something else. If you don't kill yourself first.”

“Stop talking.” Gai’s voice was icy. It made me shiver.

Lex reached across the table and tapped his thumb where the epiphany band marred his flesh. “Does this mark even mean anything anymore?”

Gai’s chair scraped back as he stood. With one swift motion he hurled the table across the room. It crashed into the far wall, mugs shattering on impact, ale spraying across the floorboards. The noise rang out like a thunderclap, followed by the sharp gasps of patrons as the wreckage clattered to the ground.

The tavern froze. The smell of ale and smoke hung heavier as every patron shrank back, benches scraping against the wood. My breath caught as I stared, while Lex simply held his gaze. They looked like predators circling the same carcass.

But instead of striking, Gai turned and walked out through the space he’d cleared. Every eye followed him as he pushed through the door and vanished into the night.

Gabby hurried over, wide-eyed. “What was that?!”

“He’s a bitch,” Lex said flatly. She didn’t even flinch—she’d grabbed her drink before Gai flipped the table, a warning I wished she’d shared. “He came here ready to die or find a reason to keep living.” She looked at me. “It’s just him and me, Yen. We’ve got a handful of people scattered elsewhere, but really, our organization, if you can call it that, is just the two of us.” Her gaze swept the tavern. “We don’t want to rule, and we won’t be ruled. Gai’s ready to die any day, or kill to keep on living. I get that. Otherwise, I would’ve abandoned him already.” Her expression softened into something fragile. “We may look dependable, but we’re held together by jokes and old scars. That’s all.”

Gabby, with no context, stared blankly, even more lost than when the table flew.

My eyes fell to the floorboards. With this new lens, everything about them—every act of bravado, every plan—felt unbearably sad.

Lex noticed my thoughts turning. She leaned forward and rapped her knuckles lightly on my knee, pulling me back to the moment.

“We’re still going to help you,” she said.

“Why?”

Lex shrugged, her gaze distant, as though staring through years gone by. “It’s something to do.”

•

“Take this.” Barcus handed Nigel a sheet from his codex. “All the mana crystals are in here. Sell them at the inn when you get the chance. Add them to the group budget.”

“Got it.” Nigel slipped the sheet into his own codex without hesitation, though his fingers tapped against the cover when he finished as if bothered by something.

It was the Trailblazer's first real mission together in the Forest of Beginners since arriving at Sandy Branch. For a long time, they’d been guards and watchers, not adventurers. The Primordials weren’t the threat I once feared, and Edwin didn’t need constant protection anymore, which finally gave them a chance to work on their own again.

I spotted them approaching Sandy Branch from a rooftop at the edge of town. My legs dangled off the ledge as I studied the four of them, my thoughts tangled. The rooftops below bustled faintly with vendors closing shop, and the fading sun painted the sky in muted orange.

Bydon was the first to notice me. He waved, and the others followed. Nigel’s eyes lingered on me longer than the rest, and he shifted his stance, arms folding across his chest before dropping again.

It made my chest ache. Part of me wanted to run down, to tackle him, to hold him until time itself gave way. That kind of comfort felt impossibly dangerous as the poision "love" inside me began to blossom uncontrollably.

I shoved the feelings down.

“Yo!” I hopped off the roof. “Thought I’d give you all an update on the town so you can head out in peace.”

The phrase “head out” made them stiffen. Their looks carried confusion, and Nigel almost looked hurt—his jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the dirt—until relief flickered in his eyes. He, like me, knew it was the right call. We were better apart with oceans between. We’d go back to passing thoughts every once in a while, fleeting pangs, then moving on to our real lives and feelings.

It was better that way. There was no cure for what we had. If there had been, Edwin would have used it already. I had theories on what might "solve" the problem, but if I was right, my guesses weren’t worth bringing up. They weren’t viable options for either of us.

“I’ve talked with a lot of people today,” I said, steadying my breath. “You’re hearing my final decision, so here it goes. I’m going to Paradise. Temporarily. Hopefully.”

The group froze.

“My goal is to serve as an ambassador of sorts. To ease tensions between humans and fey—devils,” I corrected myself. “Changing the terms we all use would be a good start.” I forced a smile, my voice firm. “I’m the only one of my people who grew up here on the Human Continent. That gives me a chance to bridge the gap between us all.”

It irritated me that I only reached this conclusion after talking to so many people today. Now I’d have to repeat it again and again. A hassle. It meant I'd be spending another few hours laying out my future for everyone that mattered. 

Bydon and Tart looked excited. Barcus looked crushed. Nigel… Nigel looked caught between hope and despair, his hands tightening into fists before unclenching again.

“When will you go?” Tart asked.

“I haven’t told them yet. Not sure. Edwin will probably give me some time to finish things here,” I said.

“Are you bringing anyone?” Bydon asked.

I paused. Gai and Lex had offered, in their own way, though it didn't feel genuine with how things ended. Christopher did, too. But all of them would likely need to pose as slaves just to get into Paradise, if that, and Christopher especially couldn’t, not with his Mark of Kings. Tart and Bydon could probably come openly. They were Fey.

My head tilted. “Jessie’s pregnant, Barcus is retiring, and Nigel’s taking over the Trailblazers. Right?”

Barcus nodded. “Yes.”

“No,” Nigel said firmly, shoulders squaring.

Barcus frowned. “What do you mean no?”

Nigel’s eyes locked with mine. “Garreth already left. There were only three of us anyway. Not much of a team. Besides—” he glanced toward Tart and Bydon, shifting his weight nervously. “We’ve hit different paths, haven’t we?”

He read my mind.

“But—” Barcus started.

“We already talked with Nigel,” said Tart. “We were planning to split when we got back to Port Prosper. Go solo.”

“Seems like something might change that,” Bydon added, glancing at me. "A new opportunity to do something good."

“And I want to see what I can do on my own,” Nigel told his brother, his arms crossing again before he forced them back to his sides. “If this isn’t fate, then what is?”

Barcus looked from Nigel to the others, then lowered his gaze. A sad smile touched his lips. “Means everything I worked for is gone.”

“It means you get to build something new, something better,” Nigel said, his hands opening as if to release the weight of his words. “Go start a family. Be happy. You deserve it.”

Barcus sighed, then nodded. 

“Then I guess I have guards?” I gestured to Tart and Barcus. “An entourage?”

They nodded.

“Then we should pick a date to leave,” Barcus said.

“We could leave tomorrow,” Nigel blurted, his foot shifting restlessly against the dirt.

“That’s a little soon.”

Nigel ignored him and looked at me, eyes intent. “Can we talk?”

“O-Oh.” I stumbled. “Sure.”

Nigel stepped away, and I followed, leaving the rest behind.

We walked through Sandy Branch. Lanterns had begun to glow against the dusk, painting the streets in warm orange and gold. The town wasn’t as full as it once was, but people were coming back. The mercenaries were gone. Adventurers lingered, but it no longer felt like a camp waiting for war.

It felt almost normal.

Something I wouldn’t have believed weeks ago.

Nigel stopped suddenly. I halted too. The space between us felt wide.

“We agreed to stay keep away from each other,” Nigel said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but it wouldn’t feel right to say nothing. Congratulations. You’ll do great. I believe in your mission, and most importantly, I believe in you. You'll succeed in whatever you set your mind on. There's not a doubt in my mind.”

Warmth spread through me. “Th-Thanks.” I scratched my neck. “Were you really going to disband the group when you returned to Port Prosper?”

“Yeah.” Nigel’s arms folded, then dropped as he forced himself to meet my eyes. “But you gave us a better excuse.”

“Why do you want to disband?"

“For the same reason my brother never joined my father's clan,” Nigel said, shifting on his feet. “To prove I can be more than my family, more than Barcus’s little brother. Taking over his group won’t do that.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” I fumbled. “Good luck.”

Nigel chuckled, rubbing his palm nervously against his thigh. “Thanks.”

We stood in silence.

“I missed you,” Nigel said suddenly. His gaze dropped, then flicked back to me. His fingers twisted together before he hid them behind his back. “We never got to talk honestly, not with everything between us. This...curse. I didn’t say it in the inn or after, but I’m glad to see you again. I’m glad you’ve changed and taken control of your life.”

My lip trembled. I tried to smile, but my voice cracked. “You suck.”

Nigel flinched, then gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the side of his neck as if unsure how to respond. The tension between us eased a little.

“I’ve been holding back forever,” I admitted, half laughing, half exasperated. “I was seconds away from jumping you.”

His lips twitched into a grin. “The feeling’s mutual.”

The words startled a laugh out of me. “Ha! Shut up. But…thank you for your kind words. They were sweet.”

“You're welcome,” he said softly, his hands clenching and relaxing again, betraying nerves.

“And I’m happy you’re striking out on your own.” I stood straighter, hiding my fluster. “You were my first friend. I want you to succeed in everything you do. I know you will."

Nigel covered his mouth, embarrassed, eyes darting away.

“Feel my pain,” I teased with a grin. "My embarassment!"

We both laughed, nervous and tangled. For a moment, the curse between us faded. I didn’t see Nigel as someone to lust after, but as the boy I grew up with. My friend.

The urge to hug him overwhelmed me. Before I knew it, we closed the distance. We cared for each other—loved each other—in the simplest, purest way. The way we’d always wanted to.

I held onto that reprieve. Nigel’s warmth carried me through our years: our childhood fights, the first sparks of mana, waking Jessie, surviving my town’s scorn. His embrace was steady, familiar. The rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest felt grounding, almost timeless.

I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. For one fragile heartbeat, the world was gentle.

SHUNK!

A stone pike tore through my side at an angle.

The pain was blinding. My ears rang, the sound shrill and constant. Adrenaline surged, sharpening every sense as mana rushed to the wound.

Not fatal. It missed my vitals. Already, my body was working to heal, but the agony was raw, jagged, consuming.

Nigel slumped against me. The pike jerked forward, ripping my wound wider as it slid out of my flesh. His body convulsed as he fell into my arms.

Panic seized me. I caught him and lowered him to the ground. Blood poured through my hands, hot and slick, spreading dark across the dirt. It coated my fingers, sticky and iron-rich.

His chest convulsed with wet, rattling gasps. Crimson bubbled at his lips, spilling down his chin. Each breath came shallower, a desperate rattle scraping the air.

The metallic stink of blood filled my nose, overpowering everything else. 

My hands trembled as I pressed against the wound, desperate and useless. If I removed the pike, he'd die for sure. But if I didn't...

The warmth of his life slipped between my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold it in.

His eyes flickered, glassy and terrified, yet soft when they found mine. He tried to form words, lips quivering, but only a choked cough of red escaped.

My gaze snapped to the arm-sized pike that pierced his lungs, skin torn ragged around the stone’s path. The wound that only grazed me had punched clean through him.

And it was killing him before my eyes.

The sound of our laughter from moments before echoed cruelly in my head, now replaced by his death rattle. The world that had felt safe, almost normal, shattered in an instant, leaving only horror and the heavy, choking stench of blood.