Page 83 of Oracle of Ruin

“Less peacocking, more climbing,” Amír barks.

We silently lower ourselves further. Her feet touch the earth first, right as another wave of power shakes the palace. My picks slip from the crevices in the stone and Blaine nearly laughs as I fall the last five feet to the ground. The impact robs all air from my lungs and the rocks bite into my back.

“Rowan, how good to see you embracing the dirt,” Torin quips, standing over me while Blaine gently lowers himself to the ground.

Kya stifles her smile and the knights behind them pretend to not see me sprawled across the ground.

“You are such an ass,” I croak when I raise myself to my knees. “What the fuck is with these earthquakes?”

Torin and Kya’s grins drop immediately and my assassin helps me to my feet. Once standing, I take in the sparse group of knights they’ve managed to rescue. They stand a haggard bunch, only ten or so of them. Their clothes hang loosely from their skeletal forms, their cheeks and eyes gaunt and hollow. Scruff lines their jaws and they lean against each other or the rebellion members to stay upright.

“Ophelus has been running experiments on Lucius under the guise of regaining his sight,” Kya says softly, crossing two fingers across her chest. “Ver fought back when they took her. He has a gnarly bite scar on his hand.” I don’t miss the hint of pride in her voice, nor do I ignore my own pride. I want to say it was our training that allowed her to survive, but I know that it was purely Vera. I never gave her that fiery spirit, only allowed her to hone it as a weapon.

My gunslinger frowns. “What kind of experiments?”

Amír doesn’t need to wait long to hear an answer as another rumble shatters the ground, the thunderous sound only rivaled by the piercing scream that comes from somewhere far too close. It doesn’t sound like Lucius. Hell, it hardly sounds human.

“He’s turning him into a weapon.” Torin ushers us towards our mounts with a grimace. “A mix of death and man.”

We help the knights onto our horses, all of us riding double to fit. The rebellion may have provided us with horses, but even they do not have twenty to spare right now. We were lucky to get the ten we did.

Blaine blanches. “That’ll kill him.”

“It already has.” Torin’s face pinches. “There’s something else that’s been living in him since Vera’s ball. The first experiment took place after you left.”

The thought should startle me, but rather, it brings a form of comfort. The man who coveted Vera and shattered Blaine is dead. There is no man left, only a monster. Men come with guilt, but I have no qualms killing a monster.

I mount my horse quickly, untying her reins from the post we left them at as I go. Her ears flick back and forth as I settle in the saddle, a haggard knight sitting in front of me. Pulling a rope from my saddlebag, I tie the man to me, lest the exhaustion forces him to pass out and fall off the steed. Once we start moving, we won’t have the luxury of stopping until we reach the rebellion.

The earth around us stills in anticipation. Not even the breeze dares to disturb the branches of the trees above our heads. The birds have ceased their chirping, the steady thrum of insects quieting until there is only the soft clicking of icicles melting amongst the snow.

As I sink my heels into the stirrups, a booming voice breaks the peace and sends fear crippling my heart.

“Rowan!”

My hands still on the reins, the leather slipping from my grasp. That voice. I know that voice, despite no memory of hearing it. I’ve yet to regain all memories from before Irene’s death, only wisps of recollection. A scent, a tangible feeling. Sometimes a full scene but never a voice. But I would know that voice anywhere, even if it called for me in death.

This is the first time I’ve heard my father say my name, and he’s not even my father anymore.

Ophelus stands atop a broken tower, his face gaunt and twisted with a mix of fury and relief. His hands twitch at his sides as if he doesn’t know how to use them anymore. Shadows envelop him in wisps, tendrils of that darkness curling up his arms towards his neck. He outstretches a single hand towards me while I sit fixed atop my horse, completely choked.

“Rowan!” Kya shouts. “Rowan,go!”

Her startled cry draws my attention back to the present as the rumbling growls draw closer. I shake my head clear of any sorrow. All of their lives hinge on the fact that I live to get them out of this. I can’t afford to get lost in sentiment or my own grief.

I swallow the lump in my throat and dig my heels into the mare’s belly. She squeals and pins her ears, but obeys with a small kick, taking off into a gallop.

“Rowan.”

I hear his voice now as a whisper, soft and paternal. It is the sound of summer picnics and afternoon in the sunlight. A homage to days of laughter and unbroken promises, and if I dare say I’ve ever felt it, joy. It was a time where I didn’t have to struggle to survive, or watch the light fade from my mother’s eyes each day, even though she tries her damned hardest to be strong.

A single tear plops along the bridge of my nose before it is carried away by the whistling wind. The man who sits before me groans and I clench my jaw.

These are the people I have to protect, that my father failed to protect.Thisis my job and responsibility now. I do not have the luxury of simple pleasures such as love and nostalgia. This is my job.Thisis my purpose. I am the shadow he created, here to save the people from him.

Deep down, I know I am no better than him. Deep down, I know I am the monster he created, and that goes deeper than blood. That settles in my bones, in my existence.

It is time the monster comes home.

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