Page 160 of A Fate so Cruel

His head tilted up to stare at the barren redwoods surrounding a home he’d nearly forgotten. A place where his childhood memories dwelled. His heart clenched when those memories resurfaced, one after another.

His mother. Saoirse. His childhood friends and all the battles he’d survived over the years.

He knew returning would dredge up those memories. He’d prepared himself for the blow.

The guards didn’t react to his presence and Rion didn’t expect them to. Not after how long it had been since he’d last set foot in the grand palace halls.

Decades.

Decades to himself where he rarely ventured beyond the mountain’s protective borders.

Loneliness occasionally crept in, and Rion allowed himself to visit an inn where he played games with complete strangers who wouldn’t recognize him.

Every now and then, someone’s eyes would widen and that familiar fear would sweep in, then Rion would vanish, returning to his secluded life among the ancient trees.

Saoirse looked for him.

He heard her name on occasion. He’d almost run into her once, but he’d managed to outpace her.

At the time, Rion hadn’t been ready to face his sister. He’d been a coward then.

But he was ready to face her now. Or maybe that younger part of himself just didn’t care anymore.

The harsh winter wind cut through the trees, and Rion found himself thankful for the pelts wrapped around his body. He’d learned to live off the land. To use what nature provided to ensure his survival. His hair was longer now, stretching down to the middle of his back. He should probably cut it if he planned to rejoin society. Not that he expected society to welcome him back.

What the citizens across Brónach didn’t realize was how much Rion had intervened in their affairs over the last several years. Or maybe they did. He’d heard whispers about himself, too. A Demon that entered the battlefield only to vanish like a wraith.

He’d burned various secret hideouts and dispatched rebels who tried to rise against Saoirse and Alec. He’d even killed the male in Whiteridge who’d taken over the governor’s role. He’d warned him.

He hadn’t lived in seclusion at all. He’d lived a life at war. One where he kept to the shadows, never taking credit or seeking praise. He rarely used his magic in those moments, choosing instead to hone his skills in combat.

But it had all grown . . . boring. He needed more. He needed to communicate. For someone to know who he was, even if they feared him.

He needed to see Saoirse. Just to know she was all right.

The guards let him pass, and the first few civilians only backed away due to his wild outward appearance.

Then the whispers started, followed by the wide, shocked gazes of those who put the pieces in place.

Warriors stiffened, reaching for both their magic and weapons. Some ran straight to the palace, no doubt to announce his arrival.

One warrior blocked his path, weapon drawn and eyes wild. Rion’s magic rose then, ready to protect, but no longer beyond his control. No, with time, it had allowed him to coax it into submission. Something about the mountain’s magic had fixed whatever had been wrong with him. As if pushing something back on its axis.

“Let’s not spill blood on my first day back.”

The male visibly shook. “You killed my brother.”

Rion sighed and his magic jerked. A familiar irritation returned. A foreign thing buzzing in the back of his mind. “Stand aside.”

The male lunged, a war cry falling from his lips. Rion’s particles shot out and grabbed the male. The magic held him suspended in the air for a few minutes before Rion threw him into the nearest vendor stall. Wood cracked and gold trinkets flew, scattering through the dirt. The merchant didn’t move. Rion just kept walking.

He heard the male rise, but others grabbed his arms, holding him back.

Rion ignored them.

He wanted a warm shower, whether in his old room or in the barracks, he didn’t care. He wanted normal clothes and he wanted a purpose. Something to do that his name could be part of.

Another trio—two males, one female—confronted him before the palace gates. Rion made quick work of them, throwing them to the side as if they were little more than nuisances He didn’t kill them, but they’d wake with headaches and a few broken bones.

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