Maybe a person is limited in how much good they can do if they’re not willing to get their hands dirty. I don’t like it. The thought makes me a little sick inside, but the truth isn’t always merciful.
And the truth is that I love him. Not in spite of who he is. I see all of him now.
I love it all.
I’m going to tell him tonight when he returns from his meeting with the Sacred Light. I’ll tell him I’m going to stay, because I choose it.
Forever.
Damian
“Kane is recovering well.”The Sacred Light’s hollow, distorted voice fills the room. “He’s gained a lot of wisdom over the past two weeks. He’ll be back before the solstice ceremony. He should be healed by then, and you’ll welcome him with open arms.”
I lift my head. “No.”
The air in the room changes. Stills. Without seeing his face, I know he’s shocked.
“Are you disobeying an order, Damian?”
I force myself to breathe evenly. I can’t show weakness here. Not even a sliver.
“You wouldn’t have chosen me as the future prior if I took orders blindly. I have to think about all the students at Thornecroft. The people I’ll be devoting my life to protect.”
The Sacred Light tilts his head. Is he rolling his eyes behind that mask? Smiling?He has the benefit of not having to master his expressions.
We all know that priors don’t care about their fraternity members unless they can use them as future politicians, CEOs, and even influencers. That they’ll do the less than savory work for The Four Hundred in the hope of someday ascending.
“And what are your concerns for your…students?” he finally asks.
I exhale slowly.
Keep your voice measured. Controlled.
“What Kane did was a declaration of war. He wants to be the prior. We both know it. Who knows what he’ll do to get it.”
The Sacred Light sighs. “He’s impetuous, volatile. I’d never choose him as prior. No matter how he tries to acquire it.”
Just as I thought. The virgin sacrifice is only a ritual. One that the Sacred Lights have probably only kept around to appease the old guard. But they’ll all be gone soon enough.I represent the future, and the man in front of me knows it.
This will help my case.
“If you want me to welcome him with open arms,” I say, “you’ll have to show him you chose me for a reason.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then a soft, breathy sound—a huff.
“I take it you want something specific?”
I force my hands still. “Yes.”
The Sacred Light is quiet for an agonizing moment. “What is it?”
I close my eyes for half a second. When I open them again, I lower my chin. “I want to go down in our history books as the first prior who married his virgin sacrifice.”
The words echo in the quiet.
A second passes.