Page 84 of Rising

He sat down on my stump, motioning me to scoot over. “You killed my best friend.”

A little over two years ago, the country had been at war with itself. Different settlements had stabilized, borders were being drawn, trade networks had begun to establish. History has a sick, fucked up way of repeating itself. And during the most pivotal times, greed destroys all things good.

Settlements around the country protested borders, wanting more people, more land, more control. Choosing to target trade networks they weren’t able to successfully reach agreements with. Sure enough, conflict followed, allies were pulled in, and war broke out.

Salem Territory had already established its borders through settlements in our trade network, operating similarly to what had been NATO. The settlements in Idaho had rather neutral relations with its neighbors in Montana and Wyoming, making them allies of our own.

Most of The Expanse had allied with us, out of fear and dealing with the aftermath of the ambitious Covert Province. Monterey had been responsible for leading that fateful battle. Resources limited, some of The Expanse’s military had reported under our leadership. Yellowstone had been a mess, the terrain hard to navigate even under the guidance of locals in the area. Pansies, wild animals, human-mage threats, and apparently feral men. It’d been chaos, lines had been blurred in the mix of it. Soldiers were fighting, and no longer understood who was friend or foe. Panic setting in.

Alexiares had stood out within the rankings of his own community’s military, his magic plenty, fueled by a never-ending well. They’d used him to their advantage, instructing him to expend all the power he could in order to end the battle, relieve some of the men and help retreat. The details of his role were specific, and he was told to not divert from the plan. He’d let his fire unleash in its entirety through the tree line, what had been determined to be an entry point of battle for our enemy. After his flames had burned out, he’d followed with water to prevent further spread. Flooding the valley and killing over two hundred soldiers. His best friend included.

I’d been there through most of it. The rest of the day had been fed to me a week later, as I’d recovered hundreds of miles away from the scene. A third of the soldiers that’d been lost had been mine, under my control.

“I … I was dying during that battle.” I started, “It is my fault, but not in the way that you think, and you deserve to know the truth.”

He shifted, slouching a bit to meet my eye, wanting to catch every word that left my mouth.

“Jax and I had decided to split control of the battlefield. We thought it’d make it easier, more eyes over the entirety of the field. We were supposed to check in, find a moment to debrief and re-evaluate. I never made it to our rendezvous.” My body shuddered, not remembering the moments myself, but from the distraught recount Jax had given me over my death bed. “He was worried, waited, returned to his part of the field and came back half an hour later. I still hadn’t arrived, and he didn’t see my magic flaring up in the area ... he panicked. Left his post to search for me. I’d been stabbed through and through.”

I motioned towards the space between my torso and pelvic bone. “I was bleeding out, almost gone. By the time he found Reina, I didn’t have a heartbeat. So itismy fault you see. If he hadn’t left his post to save me, our soldiers would’ve had someone to answer to instead of having to decide things for themselves. They’d changed course, that’s what brought them into your path. Bringing any soldiers they could identify as being on our side with them. We lost sixty-two soldiers that day. I knew each of them by name. Compound was only half the size it was now. I knew everyone.”

He sighed, taking it all in. Silence consuming the passing minutes as I waited for him to speak.

“I think I couldn’t kill you, because deep down, I knew if you’d truly been responsible, it would’ve eaten you alive. There wouldn’t have been a general for me to come for. A compound to take down. That was my plan, you know? Take down The Compound, make it crumble around you, take everything from you that you took from me, then kill you.” A stark laugh escaped his lips. “Funny thing is, I’m actually the villain I accused you of being.”

“I don’t see that as being true,” I offered.

“After that battle, the Tinkerer I told you about. The one that took pity on me? She’s my wife.” He paused, gauging my reaction before continuing, “Her father is in charge, like Prescott. Their military works different up there, government and military all in one. Took me under their wing. Magic like that, like what I have, what you have. It’s dangerous. Gets people killed, a weapon of mass destruction. But you can’t have a weapon of that extent that you can’t control. She chose to encourage her father to take advantage of my pain, the loss of my friend, Tiago. He’d been the reason I’d ended up there to begin with. We’d come from Chicago with each other. My brother too.”

His rings had been given to him on the condition that he continue to work for them, but in a more specialized capacity. They’d used him to spy, dispatching him to other settlements within their territory, using him to gather intelligence and find information they could use against others. Encouraging him to take out anyone they deemed a problem, or when the fuss they made about living conditions posed a threat to the unity of their home.

He’d been miserable, felt as if he’d become the father he’d sworn to be nothing like, and launched into self-destruct mode. Each mission taking longer than the last, unable to leave whatever room he’d been staying in, fighting with himself to not move forward, to stay in bed. The guilt that had consumed him, a feeling I knew too well.

The last straw was the moment he’d come home early, unable to do what needed to be done, wanting to seek comfort and advice from his wife. She’d been the last thing he’d had left to hang on to, had started to despise her for it, but had hoped she’d be willing to leave. Start over and see what life had to offer them away from the place he’d grown to hate. Her hands and mouth had been full when he’d walked in, occupied beneath one of his fellow soldiers.

They’d argued. She’d told him he should be thankful she’d even been able to stand his presence after the monster he’d become. No matter the fact that she’d made him that way. He’d lost control, his fire taking out their corner of the city. There’d been no deaths, but the damage was extensive. Immediately, he’d gone to speak with her father. Begging him to release him from his duties, hoping he’d show him a rare moment of mercy and reflect on the man he’d chosen to work under before his daughter’s vision of the world had taken its grip. He’d understood the tiresome feeling that came with dealing with his daughter. Realized Alexiares could serve him no good without a desire to live, and had told him to go, and go fast. Wishing him a better future.

In the days that followed, he’d become even more disgusted with himself. Realizing he’d let not one, but two people turn him into the person he’d worked his entire life to not become.

“And who is that?” I asked delicately.

“Do you know who Alexander Drakos is?”

My breath caught in shock. Therehadbeen a reason his face had been so familiar, just hadn’t been able to place him with the years between the now and the last time he’d been in the media.

His father, Alexander Drakos, had been known as a ruthless businessman. His name constantly swarmed the media for alleged drug and gang ties. A different, new accusation every day. Dozens of people had gone missing in connection to him, but the police had never been able to find solid evidence to put him away. He had two sons, Alexiares and Evander.

Not much was known about Evander since he was a minor, but Alexiares … TMZ had a field day with him. Captured falling out of bars in a drunken, drugged up state. Fighting inside clubs, sporting black eyes and busted lips as accessories. The last piece of media I’d seen was about him and his father. Alexander Drakos had been caught on camera, beating him. Brutally.

A drone hovered over their backyard capturing it all. He’d stepped in between his father’s fist and his mother’s frail body. His brother pushed to the ground as his father walked away, leaving Alexiares blood splattered across the pavement, crawling to cover their bodies with his own should his father come back for more.

My fingernails dug into the skin of my palms. I’d seen the video and gone about my day. Not thinking twice of it. One of the many videos that would circle around social media for a day or two, only to be followed by something worse, taking the attention and making people move on.

“He forgot his wounds, his hunger and thirst, and became fear; hopeless fear,” I muttered under my breath.

His body stiffened at that. “Lord of the Flies.”

“I see you have good taste,” I said, taken aback by his ability to place the quote. “You became what you feared because you had to. But that doesn’t mean you’re out of time to change. We don’t have to remain the person that was molded by others forever. This fucked up world is a breeding ground for the loss of innocence, of all things good. Has been for a while now, even before this. The only thing that will make it better Alexiares is if people like us, fight for the good ones to survive. There’s still good that can come from our souls, even when we feel they’ve been damned to hell.”

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