Chapter 17

CHAPTER17

It was dark and cold outside, but even more than that, Elric was dark and cold inside. He clung to Athan, trying to siphon some of his warmth as he had so many times. His rage had ebbed and faded, until he could barely remember why he’d been so angry to begin with.

Elric knew what story Callan was going to tell, and he… didn’t want Athan to know it. Athan, who had always had faith in him, who had always thought there was something in him to save, who didn’t know he was like… this.

But when Callan’s voice rang out, it didn’t matter.

“Once upon a time, dear phoenix, there lived a young prince.” Callan’s amusement was palpable in every word. “A prince who thought he was owed the world, because he’d been born first.”

Callan got close enough to Elric to run a finger down Elric’s cheek, though he was gone before Elric could even try to slap the hand away.

“Shut up, Callan,” Elric said, his entire body tense as he stared at Callan. “Just give me the item, take your payment, and be gone. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Athan tensed beside him. “Just leave. Forget all the other stuff. Just leave, Callan. Elric doesn’t need you.”

“Doesn’t he?” Callan rubbed his bearded chin. “You’ve tried and tried to clean him up, but Elric isn’t dirty, or rusted, or broken. He is exactly as he is meant to be. Exactly who he’s always been.” Callan grinned viciously at Elric. “Isn’t that right?”

“Stop it, Callan,” Elric said, tensing.

“But I’m not done with my story.” Callan made a dramatic gesture with his hands. “What does a young prince do when his father dies tragically young? When the queen looks at her son and thinks, this monster robbed me of my husband?”

“Just fucking stop it!” Elric shouted. “He doesn’t need to know this!” He shuddered, desperate for Callan to stop. Athan knew where this story had begun, but he didn’t know the path it had led Elric down. Rage and terror filled him, and Elric grabbed Athan’s hand and pushed him. “Go,” he said urgently. “Just get out of here, go!”

Athan stumbled, but he didn’t leave. He gripped the side of the stone altar and shook his head. “Not without you, Elric. Let’s both leave. You don’t need Callan. You don’t need to wallow in the past. Start a new life—with me.”

He couldn’t have a new life. There was no life for him to live. He had nothing. He had no kingdom. He had no family. He couldn’t have Athan, who thought so highly of him.

Callan laughed and took the space next to Elric, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “If only he knew,” Callan said. “But we can fix that. Athan, surely you don’t believe I sought Elric out all on my own. I can’t give people hunger. They come to me, already starving, desperate for the power to sate themselves.” He nipped at Elric’s jaw. “And Elric was so, so hungry. Desperate to rid himself of the loathsome mother who thought to cast him out, enough to where he had her assassinated.”

Athan’s mouth thinned into a grimace. “That was… That was your doing.”

Callan skated through the shadows to trail a finger across Athan’s chest. A dark residue remained in its wake. “I merely provided the means. It was Elric who served her the poisoned tea. He is so very good at poisoning things now. And all that remained after that…” Callan slid back to Elric’s side. “All that remained was to destroy the little brother who was poised to steal the only thing Elric cared about. He did such terrible, terrible things to his poor, naive, fool of a brother. Didn’t you, Elric?”

Elric didn’t want to hear this story from the outside. He didn’t want Athan to hear it either. He wanted… He wanted Athan to think fondly of him, in the future—but not a future together. They could never have a life together. Elric would die alone, likely by one of the bounty hunters who sought to bring him to justice.

He had only done those things because… because…

“Go, Athan,” he whispered raggedly, his voice even more pleading then. “Just go.”

Athan raised a fist that flickered with flame—and went out. “Callan. This petty cruelty is… is beneath you.”

Callan burst out laughing. “Is it? You always wanted me to be some bright, beautiful, creature. But you never learn. Once again, you’ve fallen for somebody whose soul is nothing more than tar. And Elric enjoys it. Enjoys having power, enjoys knowing he can subjugate anybody who dares so much as bruise his feelings.” Callan rested his head on Elric’s shoulder, and more cold seeped into Elric’s body. “Why else would he have sentenced his brother to be publicly raped?”

Elric went still, his eyes downcast. He wanted to defend himself, wanted to protest, but he couldn’t find the words.

For all the turbulence and loathing and misery inside of him, for all that he didn’t want Athan to hate him, Elric couldn’t find it in himself to lie.

Athan stared in disbelief. “Is… is that true?”

“The… the punishment for treason…” Elric stuttered, remembering too well how Larkin had looked in the pillory, how difficult it had been to even look at his little brother as he’d served the first part of his sentence.

Callan buffed his nails on Elric’s thigh. “Humans are so vicious. His own brother! Served him up to all of his guards and the peasantry alike, who were eager to bring the princeling down a few pegs. It was very entertaining, listening to little Larkin attempt to cry out. Watching the tears and the blood—until the dragon showed up to ruin everything.”

Athan took one step back, shaking his head. “Tell me he’s lying, Elric. Please. Please tell me you didn’t. That’s… that’s horrible.”

Liquid slid down Elric’s cheeks. This time when he wiped at it, it was a strange sludge, thinned out by something else.

Tears.

Real tears.

Elric hadn’t been able to watch. He’d sentenced his brother to public use, but he’d turned his back. He’d gone to where he couldn’t hear the sounds Larkin had made, where he’d been able to turn a blind eye to what he’d decreed.

He was a coward of the worst kind, and now Athan knew just how much like Callan Elric really was.

“Shut up!” Elric roared, pushing hard at Callan to force him off of the altar. “Just shut up, Callan! You don’t know! You don’t understand! You could never understand!”

Callan laughed, and he circled over to Athan again, getting his dark, spindly fingers on the phoenix. Athan shuddered and tried to shove Callan away, with no success.

“What would I understand of ambition?” Callan smiled indulgently. “Have you wondered, Athan, what we’re even doing out here? Why Elric chose to take that plunge into the darkness with me?”

Athan shook his head, his red hair swishing like a crackling flame. “More of your lies,” Athan said weakly. “Whatever you sold him…”

“An idea. An undead army, one to retake his kingdom and cast out that pretender to the throne. We might not even need a phoenix then, if we have an army of the undead to overwhelm the dragon.” Callan spoke with that same seductive quality it always did, and Elric hated how much he wanted what Callan was offering.

But Athan’s face morphed into such deep disappointment, sending more shame lancing through Elric.

Elric couldn’t even look at Athan after that.

“Elric never needed a phoenix,” Athan said abruptly. “You need a phoenix. Why?”

What? That didn’t make sense. Of course they needed a phoenix if they were going to fight a dragon. Even an undead army couldn’t resist dragon flame.

“What is this place? Why did you bring us here?” Athan asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Elric could see Athan trying to move, but Callan’s arms morphed. They lost their shape, becoming nothing but a writhing mass that pulled Athan closer. Athan cried out and struggled, while Callan laughed at his attempts.

“You’ve always been naive. It’s how I knew this would work. You see somebody so desperate, and you can’t help but get involved. I didn’t have to force you to do anything—you came of your own volition.”

“Leave him out of this,” Elric said roughly. “He’s done nothing… nothing wrong…”

Nothing but trust Elric, which… which had been the worst decision Athan could’ve made. How was it possible he could feel such shame, such guilt, when he’d only been doing what the situation dictated? His mother had plotted to take his future away; his brother had been poised to do just that.

He couldn’t have simply let that go unpunished.

But he didn’t want Athan to pay the price for what he’d done.

“Why?” Callan smirked at Elric. “I’ll give you what you want. An army—and at no cost to you, at that.” He dragged Athan through the shadows and forced him onto the altar.

Athan struggled against the dark tendrils, and maybe if Elric hadn’t fucked him, the phoenix wouldn’t have been so weak.

If Elric hadn’t almost raped him.

No. That wasn’t even true. If Elric hadn’t raped him. He might not have climaxed, but he’d taken something so vital from Athan, and he’d weakened him to the point where he could do nothing against Callan.

Callan loomed over Athan, dark, spindly fingers penetrating his mouth. “The life of a phoenix, and these dark gates will open once more. My master is looking forward to meeting you. If you manage to revive yourself, we might keep you around to power more spells.”

If.

If.

There was a chance Athan wouldn’t survive this, a horrible, terrible future in which Athan died—and died for Elric, who didn’t deserve such a sacrifice.

No.

No.

“No,” Elric said weakly, grabbing one of Callan’s shadowy arms and trying to pull it away. His own hands were so slippery that they couldn’t grip Callan easily. “You can’t…”

Callan’s neck twisted unnaturally, and his features no longer looked human, instead blurred and stretched in shadowy wisps. “No? Why not? He’ll never give you what you want. But my master can. Armies, power, enough to sate you for hundreds of years. Your reign would be unmatched.”

“I don’t…” Elric said, his fingers feeling like they were freezing as he grasped only tendrils of tentacles. “I don’t need…”

But the army.

At no cost.

Power.

So much power.

Eternal life, perhaps.

Everything he’d ever wanted, being offered to him, and the price was so… small, in comparison. Just the life of one phoenix.

Just the life of Athan.

Callan laughed, and more shadowy tendrils rose, this time to wrap around Elric and squeeze the cold into him. “Look at that, Athan. He’s hesitating. I was right about this one. Endless hunger and ambition. My master would love him.”

“Your master can defeat a dragon?” Elric asked, surprised with how steady his voice sounded. No, not steady—his voice was cold, indifferent, the way he’d always had to be in court, the way he’d presented himself to so many people.

Callan broke away from Athan to slide around Elric, shrouding Elric’s vision in darkness. “He can, yes,” Callan whispered to him, trailing a shadowy tendril across Elric’s chest. “A dragon, and an army. You can have your little brother placed in the stocks again, only this time there won’t be anyone to rescue him. The undead will take their fun from him and leave him nothing more than a rotting husk of a person. Do you want that?”

Elric almost laughed at the thought. It was horrible, and disgusting, but wouldn’t that serve Larkin right? Never mind how the thought was making him cough, more acrid tar spilling out onto the altar.

He’d already done so much for his goals. He’d killed his own mother! It would be so easy, so simple, to condemn Larkin to be torn apart by undead beasts.

There wasn’t anything good or shining about Elric.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll do anything.”

Callan’s laughter scraped across Elric’s ears. “I’m so glad you sought me out. I knew you were like me. Did Athan tell you? He once tried to ‘save’ me, as if there was anything that needed saving. As if the old existence was better than being powerful and untouchable.” He wrapped dark tentacles around Elric’s torso and forced Elric to his knees.

Elric couldn’t stop it from happening. He was utterly helpless, and he had to hope Athan would simply leave. He hadn’t felt the phoenix’s heat burst free, though, hadn’t felt the buffeting of wings.

When he looked down at his hands, they were dark, dripping messes.

He was already lost. There was no reason to refuse.

“Open your mouth, Your Highness. Take the darkness you seek. Give me the rest of your memories, and become the creature you were always meant to be.”

Those tears fell, and they felt… thicker. He was a disgusting creature, worse even than Callan. He tasted that foulness building up in his mouth, threatening to gush out.

He wanted this.

If he wanted this, why was he hesitating?

“Elric! You have to fight!”

There was no brightness in this world. There was no saving Elric.

He parted his lips.

Goodbye, Athan.

* * *

There had been a lake.

They’d all gone there once: Elric, Larkin, and their parents. Attendants had surely been present too, but to Elric they’d been invisible. He remembered his mother gently chastising Larkin for swimming too far out into the water, and his father showing them both how to swim better, and Larkin clinging to Elric for support.

This was a nice memory, Elric thought.

Then the icy cold of the water washed over him, and he remembered how Larkin had cried the whole time, how his mother had yelled at Elric for not taking better care of his brother, how the entire affair had been cut short, how he’d felt so much annoyance and anger about the excursion, and how it would have been better to never have gone at all.

It was better to not even remember it, and with the next swallow of dark, thick water, Elric didn’t know why he was angry.

Angry like his mother had been, all the time. Had she ever smiled at him? Had she ever even held him? Elric couldn’t recall a single instance of her hand on his, or kind words from her. She had never doted on him like she’d doted on Larkin. All her attention was sucked up by the new baby, the one that cried and begged and threw tantrums over the dumbest things.

He’s just a child, his mother had said when Elric complained. She wrote terrible poetry for Larkin, she read stories with Larkin, she went on walks with Larkin, and not once had she ever looked at Elric. He was nothing to her, just an inconvenience.

There were no memories of her teaching him the histories, no memories of watching performances together.

And then—

Elric blinked, a vision forming in front of him in the dark.

“Wait,” Elric said, darkness spilling out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. “I don’t want to see this.”

He walked with his father, bow and arrow in hand. They’d been in the forest for a few days already, without much luck in their hunt. The dogs had managed to chase a few creatures their way, but Elric’s hand had been unsteady, and his father spent more time correcting Elric than taking any shots himself.

The sound of hooves underbrush alerted them to another creature coming their way, disturbed by dogs. Elric raised his bow in hopes of catching the deer off guard.

“Hold on,” his father had said. “That doesn’t sound like…”

But the creature burst forth, bellowing loudly. It wasn’t a deer.

It was a large boar, stampeding through with no care for anything in its path.

Elric had to move. He had to jump out of the way.

But his legs were frozen, cold tendrils binding him in place, his breath escaping only in humid gasps.

“Elric!”

Elric blinked, and the boar was gone. His father stood in its place, his front seeped through in red, his stomach gored and intestines falling out.

“No.” Elric dropped his bow and stumbled forward, reaching for his father.

Before he could touch him, his father crumpled to the ground, and the red spread out across him like an ocean, staining everything.

Elric cried out, crawling to reach his father now. The sticky forest floor gripped his hands and knees, barely letting him move.

Black tears filled Elric’s vision. “Stop. Please. Not this one. I don’t want to see this one.”

“But this is what happened,” Callan said, rising from the dark red. “Your most precious memory. The one you would never want me to touch.”

Elric folded over himself, sobbing desperately. The sorrow lapped at his body, rising up in waves and threatening to drown him.

It was your fault, his mother said. If he hadn’t been hunting with you! If you’d been smarter! If you just didn’t exist!

And Larkin, staring at their father’s casket with wide, tear-stained eyes, as if the death meant anything to him. He forgot about their father only a few short months later. He lived his life as if he hadn’t lost the most important person in the world.

His mother and Larkin, conspiring to take the only thing Elric had left of his father, trying to deny him his last attempts to honor his father.

“You don’t need this memory, do you?” Callan asked, as he slurped out an evening of sitting by the fire with Larkin, sharing tales of their father—a conversation that was long gone, unimportant, worthless.

It was better like this, Elric thought. He didn’t need his family. They’d made him weak, made him sad. He didn’t have to feel guilt over what he’d done to Larkin. He didn’t have to wonder if having his mother killed was a mistake.

The only thing he needed was the cold, the dark, and the rage. He would consume the world, rather than be consumed by it.

“Elric! Elric, please! Listen to me! You don’t have to be this person!” a bright voice shouted.

But he did have to be that person. Didn’t the source of that dazzling brightness understand? Elric was that person. There was no fighting it. All he was doing was erasing the memories that made him weak enough to do foolish things, like pin all of his hopes on a phoenix.

“Go,” he croaked out, barely managing to utter the word around the vile sludge dripping from his mouth, not even sure why he was saying it. Before long, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

He wouldn’t remember Athan at all, because Athan was pleasure, and joy, and longing, and so much more.

Athan would think, forever, that this had been his final decision—to be consumed by ambition and lust for power. He wept, but it was too late.

Callan would take that from him. But it was just another form of weakness anyway.

“No!” Athan shouted, and from the pitch black, a flame burst forth.

Elric shielded his eyes against the brilliance. He heard Callan hiss, and when he dared to open his eyes again, he was standing on the stone dais, Athan only mere inches away from him.

“I’m not leaving,” Athan said, fiery determination in his eyes. “Because you called for me. You don’t want this cold. You want to be warm; you want to be better.”

What better was there? All of Elric’s life had been filled with misery. His only memories were of harsh words, shattered expectations, and the knowledge that his mother and brother loathed him.

Well. Elric hated them too, for all they’d done to him. And he would wreak vengeance on the sibling who had taken it all away from him. With Callan, he would at least have that.

But he wouldn’t have Athan.

For a moment, he faltered as memories of the phoenix brought some shimmering light to the outside edges of his thoughts. He had been happy with Athan. He had joked with Athan. He had told Athan things he’d told no one else.

He’d…

“It’s too late for him,” Callan said, rising up above them both. Callan was nothing but a gaping darkness, an endless yawning maw that swallowed even the smallest hint of light or warmth.

Athan took Elric’s wrist, and the heat of him seared through Elric’s skin.

“It isn’t too late for you,” Athan said. The warmth of his voice settled on Elric’s body. “Because you do care. You’re hurting, and you lashed out, and I went about this the wrong way, but you are not the monster Callan thinks you are.”

Athan gripped Elric’s face and kissed him like molten lava, rushing down Elric’s throat and threatening to burn him inside out.

When Athan broke the kiss, he smiled. “I am glad I met you. This isn’t a bad last memory, for this life.”

Last memory?

Elric watched as Athan transformed into his true form. Large, majestic, so hot as to almost cut through the dark and the cold.

But he was injured, too, and his feathers clung to each other, dripping with dark tar. When Athan leapt into the sky, a few feathers came loose.

“You want me, Callan. But I won’t go down without a fight,” Athan shouted.

A fight.

Athan was fighting.

Why?