Page 327 of Alchemised
“I still believe in you, Luc,” she said. “But we have to win this war. We can’t make choices because we want a certain story to tell later. There’s too much at stake.”
“No,” he said. “This is how we win. This is how we’ve always won. My father, and grandfather, all the Principates going all the way back to Orion. They won by trusting that good would triumph over evil, and I will do the same.”
She looked at him in despair.
His index finger flicked against his thumb, ignition rings sparking, and again fire filled his palm, running along his fingers.
He cradled the flames like a kitten before his fingers closed around it, leaving only a tongue as he tucked the opium pipe between his lips and brought the flame close to the bowl again.
Her hand clenched into a fist, fighting a wince as she listened to him inhaling.
“What if it’s not that simple, though?” she said. “Everyone who wins says they were good, but they’re the ones who tell the story. They get to choose how we all remember it. What if it’s never that simple?”
He shook his head. “Orion became sun-blessed because he refused to break his faith.”
Helena exhaled, burying her face in her hands.
She heard his rings spark, and the pipe hissed as the opium vaporised.
“Luc—please, let me help you.” She tried to reach towards him.
He flinched away, rage suddenly flashing across his face. “Don’t—touch me.”
He was teetering dangerously close to that immense fall, as if the Abyss still called to him. She didn’t know how to draw him back anymore, what to say that he’d still hear.
“Do you remember what I promised you, Luc, that night you came out here?” she asked, her voice pleading.
He gave no response. His gaze had settled back into a dim stupor, the sunset limning his gaunt features as though gilding him.
“I promised I’d do anything for you.” She curled her fingers into a fist. “Maybe you didn’t realise how far I was willing to go.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, suddenly alert again. “Don’t make it all my fault. I thought you could heal him.”
She closed her eyes. “Sometimes people die. You can’t save everyone. Neither of us can. Please let me try to heal Titus.”
“I can’t.” He stood, stumbled down onto the balcony of his room, and disappeared.
IT HAD BEEN OVER TWO weeks with no word when Helena’s ring finally burned again.
She ran out of Headquarters without a backwards glance.
When she reached the rooftop and saw Kaine already there, standing beside Amaris, her knees nearly gave out. He was in uniform, clean and polished, wearing a row of medals as if he’d just come from a ceremony.
“You’re back.” It was all she could manage to say, already reaching out for him when he was still steps away.
He pulled her into his arms. “Have you been all right?”
She managed a nod but then her head dropped against his chest, and she was so tired, her eyes closed, listening to his heart, legs threatening to give out. He’d come back. She couldn’t ask for more than that, but it had felt so long. As if every minute of his absence had cut into her.
“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.
Everything.
“Nothing,” she said. “I think I forgot to breathe after you left.”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders again, but he was tense, his attention elsewhere. Dread seeped through her like blood in water.
She lifted her head. “What is it?”
