Page 73 of Zel
Not the cruel grimaces and unfeeling sneers from what had become of his friends—what had become of him—but the grown men and women they might have been if those young orphans had accrued more than power and the corruption that accompanies it.
Ulrich had seen this version of them in their final moments as he’d sucked the last of their magic and souls into himself, like phantoms of what had been lost.
“No more,” Ulrich said, perhaps as much to them as to Zel, if they were even truly there or just visions borne of his rotting mind. “I will not have my life extended in exchange for yours.”
The pause in Zel's attempt to replenish Ulrich’s magic was already allowing the curse to spread faster again. It was better this way than for Zel to ever end up as they had.
“Perhaps eternity would have been worth it with you at my side, little cabbage... but to live without you for even one day would be my worst torment yet. My life… could never be worth the loss of yours.”
“Then how about mine?” a new voice called.
“Rudy! What—”
“I couldn't stay down there and leave you to weather this alone. You are my friend, Zel, and I wronged you. I wronged your beloved.” As he came into view, his eyes moved from Zel to Ulrich. “Please let me fix this.”
No. Ulrich tried to speak it, but his voice had left him with the renewed spread of the curse. Consuming Rudy would be no better, even if it was a friend'swillingsacrifice.
Unlike Ulrich’s.
Was this truly them? Like blurry colored lights with faces fading in and out, as barely discernible as Zel's familiar features, though still clearer than Rudy's unfamiliar frame. Was it them… waiting for him to finally join them as the boy whose greatest exploit was once his superior skill at infusing trinkets with magic?
“No, Rudy... it won't make any difference,” Zel’s voice quaked. “If my magic is not enough... ifIam not enough, then... then n-nothing…”
“I am so sorry, Zel—”
The room exploded in color and sudden focus.
Then it faded again.
What...?
“There has to be something we can—”
Another explosion of prismatic brilliance, and Zel's radiant face appeared in perfect clarity, which Ulrich could see was twisted in anguish as he wept.
“Zel, look!” Rudy exclaimed. Ulrich could see him clearer now too, something about those bursts of color having cleared his mind, however minutely. “It's your tears! The curse recedes whenever one falls on his skin. If we had more or something else—”
“My blood!” Zel unsheathed his dagger and carved it across his palm.
Wait!Ulrich wanted to protest, too addled to understand why Zel would do such a thing, but before he could object, Zel pressed the smear of blood on his palm to the spot where Ulrich’s arm had been cleaved by Rudy's axe.
The brilliant prism of Ulrich's vigilant friends exploded in a blinding light, but with their departure, he thought perhaps he heard a voice.
“What’s one more life… if it’s worth living?”
When the light finally returned to normal for Ulrich, he knew the curse had abated to what he imagined was merely scar tissue above where he no longer had an arm.
He had not felt such peace in… more centuries than he could hope to count.
He also had a terrible throbbing in his head and a general ache about his body that he had not known in just as long. It was a far cry from the pain of almost dying and a different sort of ache than his arm used to cause, one honestly easier to tolerate because it was corporeal, grounded. Ulrich felt oddly freed and unburdened by having to experience it, not as powerful as he once had been, but not devoid of magic either.
And although it took a moment longer to register than his aches and throbbing head, Ulrich also realized that Zel was kissing him.
When Zel pulled up, Ulrich could only stare at his golden betrothed in rapturous wonder. “I… I think I’m mortal.”
Zel laughed. “I think I’m normal again. Well, what I was before the ritual.”
“You are still radiant. But you wasted so much magic on me.”
