Page 85 of Hell's Secret Omega

Chapter 47

CYRUS

Nausea rollsover Cyrus in waves. The rocky passage buffets him as he hurtles down it, but he barely registers the bruises. He doesn’t even notice when the hollows stop nipping at his heels, leaving him alone in the dark.

Every molecule screams at him to turn back. He doesn’t.

He thought was done with pain, but this hurts worse than any whipping could. He clutches Mezor’s bow and quiver to his chest. Mezor knew his fate and hid it from him.

But Cyrus knew his own fate, too. He kept the truth from Mezor. Deep down, he knew the Hellspring was too poisoned to help him a long time ago. Maybe even since the first day he learned what Mezor was doing.

We were both fools.

Even their bond isn’t sacrosanct, a truth Cyrus could never shake, no matter what passages from books are stored in his head, no matter how many instances of Mezor’s touch he hoards away in the secret corners of his heart. One day, the bond would break. He’d accepted it. And somewhere along the way, he’d stopped believing it.

He’d kept the truth from Mezor because he wanted to pretend there was a way out.

A world where he stayed a vergis, and Mezor stayed by his side.

He can’t ask Mezor for that.

He stops at the tunnel’s exit, the still darkness holding him in place. His heart hovers in his throat. One more step.

Claudius findsCyrus in the library, sitting across from Sabinus’s body and the ruins of his nest. Lost in thought, Cyrus hadn’t even noticed him enter.

“Someone told me you were here.”

He’s too exhausted to be surprised. Claudius comes to stand beside him.

“It’s a troubled world, isn’t it?”

“You tell me.” Cyrus stares at the stained marble. “We twist ourselves in knots for the Court willingly, don’t we? Because the only way out is to climb over each other. And we all want out. Out of the pit. Out of the barracks. Out of the ranks.”

Claudius sighs. “When I was human, I lived a long life. A good life, some would say. But ugliness is a universal truth, not confined to places like this, and I saw plenty of it. Still, the other side of that is how many things can be beautiful, too. Like poor Sabinus. He’s dead twice over now—but his soul is finally at peace.”

Cyrus grimaces. The scene in front of him holds no beauty.

“You want it to be one or the other.” Claudius shrugs. “It ain’t like that.”

“Maybe someday I’ll see it.” He gets to his feet.

“I think someday you’ll realize you already see it.” Claudius puts his hand out. “My nameisreally Claudius, by the way. I guess my overseer figured it was good enough, my first dayout of the tournament of souls. Never had a Marcus or Flavius phase.”

Cyrus clasps his hand. “Cyrus.”

“Let’s get out of this place, Cyrus.”

Magnus’s headstares at Cyrus from the pike. His eyes are mean even in death. Cyrus should feel victorious; instead he’s empty. He turns away.

“Give it to someone else,” he says to Claudius, who shrugs and hands the pike to another demon. A parade of heads surrounds them—casualties of the latest conflict. Only two generals remain. They’ve given up their titles and become prisoners who bow their heads when minor demons walk past. Cyrus can’t say he’s sad to see it.

He can’t say he’s happy, either.

He’s just blank.

The Grey Company’s numbers have swollen since he left the Court, so much that they’ve split into five companies. The first and second companies left Mount Hythe shortly after Leuther’s death, after Claudius and the others broke open the dam at the forge and flooded the tunnels. Claudius is a member of the third company, which leaves today. The last two will follow in a few days.

Some demons have chosen to remain behind. Cyrus doesn’t meet them, so he can’t ask their reasoning. His heart remains in conflict.

---