Page 12 of Sundered By Fate

Her words were like a balm, soothing the sting of Aric's past failures. The townsfolk's murmurs of agreement gave him strength. Here, at least, they saw him for who he truly was.

But Cyrus was not so easily swayed. His eyes darted between the townsfolk and the mages, calculating his next move. And as Aric's stomach sank with recognition, he knew the inquisitor wouldn't leave without making one last attempt to unearth Aric's true nature.

Olaya stepped between them, her presence a buffer. "Enough, Cyrus. Your concerns have been noted, but they do not override the Silver Tower's authority in this matter." She turned to address the crowd, her voice resonating with confidence and command. "Aric Solarian will remain under the Silver Tower's supervision while we conduct our business in Thornhaven. This is now an official Silver Tower operation."

The townsfolk seemed to relax at her words, and even the Pureblades hesitated.

Cyrus's eyes blazed with fury, but he kept his silence for now.

Cyrus let out a low growl, but he knew when he was beaten. "Stand down," he barked to the Pureblades, and they hesitated only a moment before lowering their weapons.

As they began to withdraw, Cyrus fixed Aric with a venomous glare. "This isn't over, Solarian," he hissed, low enough for only Aric to hear. "I'll be watching your every move."

But Aric was no longer intimidated by Cyrus's threats. "Then I suggest you pay close attention."

As the tension in the square dissipated, Olaya approached Aric. Their eyes met, a silent communication passing between them. Aric nodded, understanding that their real conversation would have to wait.

He turned away from the retreating Pureblades and surveyed the gathered townsfolk. They were still looking at him with a mix of curiosity and fear, but now there was something else—something that gave him hope.

"Thank you," he said, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. "I swear, I meant you no harm when I arrived here. I only want to serve you."

Virida stepped forward, her expression softening. "And we thank you, Solarian. For all you've done for Thornhaven."

Aric nodded, his heart full as he took in the sight of this place that had become something like home.

But he could not stay.

He met Olaya's gaze once more, and her expression was one of understanding. "We have a long road ahead of us, Aric Solarian," she said. "Longer still, if we return to Astaria."

He nodded, acknowledging her words—and the warning they carried. As soon as he left Thornhaven, he'd be subject to Pureblade jurisdiction once more.

The shadows beckoned him onward.

Aric stood transfixed on the steps of the town hall, the silence stretching as a ringing sensation tingled through him. A murmur rose from the onlookers—a prayer, or perhaps a curse. Aric clenched his fists at his sides to steady himself against the flood of noise.

"Heathen scum," Cyrus sneered, his words slicing through the chaos as easily as one of his blades. "Aric Solarian. You have eluded justice for far too long."

Aric squared his shoulders and forced himself to meet the inquisitor's eyes. They were dark pits sunken in his cadaverous face. "I answered to a higher call than your false justice."

He held the other man's stare even as his guts threatened to twist right up into his throat. This was it—the moment when thefragile alliance he had begun to forge with these people either shattered or tempered itself in fire.

Let it be fire,he begged silently.Let me stay . . .

But as he shifted nervously, sweeping his sights over the other assembled townsfolk, Aric saw nothing but haunted looks, fear—they backed away from him. The elders of Thornhaven clustered around him at the council chamber steps, Mayor Virida with her countenance troubled; Bastian watching him with cold disdain. And with that look shared, Aric knew they wouldn't stand by him in this, not against the might of the Pureblade Order.

Traitors' smiles all around.

The templars reached up for their hilts with gauntleted fists.

What did Aric expect? He'd always been alone.

Cyrus, his face contorted with righteous anger, pointed an accusing finger at Aric. "Aric Solarian," he bellowed, his voice carrying across the square, "you stand accused of treason against the realm and collaboration with demonic forces!"

The crowd gasped and murmured as they absorbed Cyrus's words. They were words that would have frozen Aric's blood, once upon a time. That he had sometimes dreamed about hearing, back when he was still young and foolish enough to think that true justice might be found in the realm.

Cyrus wheeled his horse around to face the crowd. "Behold! Your so-called hero—a traitor to our kind! He dabbled in forbidden magics, and consorted with the demons themselves. He was tried and condemned to death, but his dark allies spirited him away. Do not be swayed by his lies and deceit!"

Aric folded his arms over his chest, back straight as a lance. "I have always served the realm—just not your twisted version of it."

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