Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sébastien still felt like shit by noon the next day as he sat up in bed although some of the initial shock had worn off. After a sugary breakfast that Maxime had barely managed to not burn, he'd told Remus everything. Remus had said he should rest, and the others had control of the city and situation. He'd still wanted to pour it out.

It was partly because he wasn't sure if he'd imagined half of the previous day's events. He remembered everything up until the sword stabbed him. It hadn't hurt, but he'd felt it entering him. After that, things had grown patchy with his last memory being of Remus holding him and thinking that at least he wouldn't die alone.

He didn't remember hearing the Palace collapse or anything else.

He hadn't expected to wake up in an inn room and to be safe. He should be dead, not alive. It sounded like a fool's dream to avoid reality. But there he was.

Maxime fussed and kept bringing him tidbits to eat and drinks to sip all morning.

"You need fluid and sugar to replenish your blood." Maxime bustled out for the tenth time that morning.

"Thanks." Sébastien settled the small bowl of raisins on his lap and took a sip of the orange juice. It tasted funny, so something had been added for his constitution.

Remus kept looking at him like he was about to keel over, and he finally took Sébastien's sword from where he'd leaned it against the wall. He narrowed his eyes at the hilt and said what he'd been told in Rowland by the man who'd made his weapon.

Sébastien had never thought to ask about the hilt. He'd assumed the blacksmith had simply thought of a design, made the pieces, forged the blade, and put it all together. Perhaps he'd enjoyed creating a weapon that was not only fully functional but beautiful and fitting for a Prince to carry at his side. It's not every day that a blacksmith gets to make a sword for royalty.

"I thought he'd made the handguard, not bought it from a relative who bought it from a South Sea collector," Sébastien said before he ate a raisin.

"I guess he thought it didn't matter and didn't say so to your Father. Or he did, and Jean didn't think it was important."

"He was more interested in the quality of the blade and making sure I did well with my sword lessons."

"You think the wings are from an angel's?"

"I saw some of Satan's memories. I don't know who Azazel is, but they were enemies, and for whatever reason, Azazel gave his sword to Prince Angelo. He fell from Heaven but he wasn't like them."

The Fallen existed, which proved the existence of Heaven and the human's God, not that Sébastien had ever put much thought toward them. Most fairies didn't. The Goddess had created fairies, and she was the one they worshiped.

"Some cultures have buried a person's weapons with them," said Remus.

"The cuffs came from his grave. They might have buried the sword with him too."

"Only the handguard was taken?"

"A collector could have taken it apart and sold the pieces. Or perhaps the sword was taken apart for only that piece. It's not like we can ask those from Prince Angelo's time."

Remus rested the sword across his knees. "We could get a High Mage to open it up. If we return the items, I don't think they have any power now. Since I put you in the salt water, and salt seemed to be Satan's weakness, and your body was no longer suitable, I think it's gone for good this time. Its soul or essence-whatever you want to call it-has gone back home. Angelo…I can't quite imagine what he did, but he killed the body and must have thought to trap the soul so it wouldn't go elsewhere. He messed up."

"You can't really blame him considering he was dealing with something new. He did his best and saved his people."

"True. It would have worked forever if nobody had fucking opened the coffin. The cuffs must have been on his skeleton." Remus shook his head.

It was worth death to open a grave and mess with the insides. Sébastien couldn't imagine touching a skeleton and removing anything from it. The collector's greed must have been boundless. "We could seal the tomb so nobody can walk inside again."

Stolen items should be returned, and if Satan's second chance at a form of life was truly done and over, they could return the items and not worry about the future.

"Do it," said Sébastien. "Seal it all away. With a High Mage, you could add the handguard too. I don't want anything from South Sea in my possession. I can get a new sword."

"Do you want to come with me? I mean, not right now, but later."

Sébastien thought for a long moment. "I don't want to step back in that tomb again either, or see the poem, any of it…"

He just wanted it to be all done and gone. While life currently felt rather unreal and impossible, and he wasn't sure what to do next besides eat another raisin, he had a second chance.

"I can take care of it." Remus ran his finger across the feathers. "The angels and demons in the Fallen Realm aren't that powerful. I guess there were special ones back then because they fell first or…I don't know. I'm starting to wonder about certain tales in the realm. I thought Elira fighting a beast was more like a story that Kingdoms picked up and changed over the ages."

"A golden dragon was seen near Ash Island a while back." Sébastien focused on the bowl in his lap. "One of Satan's memories was coming up from below, and Mammon turned into a golden dragon and flew away. Maybe a few of the tales throughout history have more truth than we realize, and those brothers seek ways to come back."

Remus frowned. "You said King Elio had a pair of cuffs."

"That doesn't mean they're cursed or that they came from a grave. Any silver or goldsmith can create jewelry like that. Maybe the golden dragon by Ash Island wasn't only the imaginings of a man on turf or any drug. It's possible nothing else will happen again. If a story is true, it doesn't mean anything else will happen later."

"True."

"We'll never really know the full truth, will we?"

Satan certainly hadn't been keen on sitting there and giving Sébastien a thorough lesson on how shit got started back then. Everything Sébastien had seen had been memories from Satan trying to jam themselves into his brain. Feeling like two people or someone who wasn't him wasn't a situation he ever wanted to experience again.

Unfortunately, despite living through it, he'd never get answers about everything. What happened to the hideous, red-faced creature? Was he simply dead somewhere now? What about the man with gold wings and white hair? They'd represented sins that everyone, humans and fairies alike committed, but that didn't mean they'd return like Satan. If salt was their weakness, others or Elira could have beaten them for good.

For Sébastien, it was time to close that chapter of his life and figure out what was next.

"The wolf on my hilt came from South Sea, so I wondered if that belonged to someone special too," said Remus.

"Are you going to get rid of it?"

Remus paused for a long moment. "No. I doubt it belonged to an angel. That's your handguard. The wolf is a bit crude. It could have been a trinket from any time, and there's no evidence it came from a grave either. There are plenty of little wolf things from that area. It's our animal after all."

"Remus, I'm also sorry I didn't tell you everything before and how I was planning to leave. I didn't want it to go that way either."

"I'm not mad. After what you said he did to you in the tomb, I can see why. I would have been just as scared, and he likely would have followed through if you refused him, even if it was later. Provided there are no…beings that abnormal in the future, please don't keep big secrets."

"I won't."

Remus smiled at him. "How about if I ask Maxime to make you something a little more filling than raisins and juice? Do you think you can eat a full meal?"

"I want to go out," said Sébastien. "I've been nibbling all morning. I want you to take me to see the Palace."

"It's gone."

"I can look at the remains."

"I'd really like it if you stayed in bed for another day. You already had Lord Rochefort in here to tell you the situation. You told me everything too, and you're not exactly in the best shape."

"I want to see it. I need to see that it's truly gone."

Remus looked ready to argue until something thumped downstairs.

"Remus!" shouted Maxime. "Whisper wants to get in. Hey! Stop that!"

Hooves slammed into the door again.

"I also want to see my unicorn before he breaks in and stomps upstairs," said Sébastien.

If Whisper had been a dog, he would have jumped on Sébastien, knocked him down, and slobbered on his face. Fortunately, he knew his size although he could barely stand still as Sébastien hugged his neck and told him he was the best for running so fast and being good for Remus.

"You both saved me."

Whisper whickered and nosed his hair.

He sat up front that time so he could lean against Remus. The walk downstairs had worn him out beyond belief. With the blood loss and the events of the past few days, he wouldn't be very energetic for a bit. He almost wanted to get back in bed and rest.

He needed to see the Palace.

The destruction of it was a bit more severe than he'd imagined. He'd never seen the collapsed remains of anything so massive. Parts near the first floor still stuck up although the inner section was sunken. The rest had fallen forward as if Elira had reached down and given it a big push. Burned rubble lay strewn about, and footsteps marked the stone dust on the street.

Maxime said he'd heard from a servant who fled that a fire must have broken out shortly before the main disaster.

An earthquake, a rare occurrence, had worsened a fault in the foundation or somewhere in the lower walls.

Remus, with his arms on either side of Sébastien as he lightly guided Whisper, swore under his breath. Whisper paused near some fallen stone, and they looked over. Men were trying to clear the rubble enough to search for bodies and anything of value.

"They won't find anything to bury," said Remus. "Not from the Judgment Hall. His body was burned to ash from the fire. I thought it would burn me too. Thankfully, your sword protected me."

The Regent was dead. Sébastien knew that because he'd watched him die. He'd burned him and choked him to death. None of it had been a hallucination or a dream. What a fitting end for that bastard to suffocate and feel a part of what he'd done to Sébastien.

He would never have to look at Corentin, sit by him at meals, or speak to him and pretend for others as if the past hadn't happened. The Prince wouldn't find his wine poisoned by Uncle, or worry about someone hired to kill him. The memories wouldn't vanish, but he was truly dead and gone, and never again would he touch or hurt Sébastien. And nothing would ever attempt to take over his body and use him in another way. The cursed cuffs left behind in Rowland were harmless.

It was over.

He didn't expect to start crying as he sat atop Whisper. The burst of emotion shamed him because he'd held it back so many times as a teenager once he'd learned to not give Uncle the satisfaction. Remus immediately let go of the reins to hug him from behind.

"I'm s-sorry," mumbled Sébastien. He was heading toward twenty-three and crying on top of a unicorn near a wreckage.

"Get it out if you need to," Remus whispered. "You don't have to hold it in or carry it all either anymore."

He didn't let go even when Sébastien quieted. Strangely, he did feel sort of better in an odd way even though his eyes were swollen, and he kept sniffling.

Whisper remained still for several minutes as they looked at the end and the beginning of something else.