Chapter 101: 84 - Archon I
My eyes fluttered open, heavy and reluctant. The first thing I saw was Selene’s face, inches from mine. Usually, her features were a study in cool indifference, a porcelain mask of calm.
But now? Every line of her face was pulled taut, not with panic, but with a raw, undeniable guilt. It was etched so profoundly, a dark shadow beneath her eyes, a tremor in her usually steady jaw.
A demand for answers clawed at my throat, but the sound that escaped was a harsh whisper, raspy and barely my own. "You... used that?"
She didn’t speak. Her gaze, wide and luminous, bore into me, holding an unspeakable burden, a secret too heavy to share. It lingered, a silent weight, before her eyes flickered away, avoiding my question.
"It’s not important. Get some rest first." Her voice was a low murmur, dismissive. Not an answer, but a deliberate wall, a refusal to be truthful.
A hollow ache bloomed in my chest, a void where something essential should have been. It wasn’t the searing pain of my wounds, now strangely absent, nor the exhaustion that had plagued me moments before.
This was a different kind of absence, a chilling echo in my very core.
"I... forgot something, didn’t I?" I pushed out the question, a desperate attempt to fill that gnawing void, even as my head began to pound.
My skull hammered harder, a frantic drumbeat against the inside of my temples, as if trying to tear away a black veil shrouding my mind.
I strained to remember: who I was, what I’d done before this, the details of the accident that had dragged me to death’s brink. But my mind was a fog, heavy and indistinct, as if a vital piece had been torn away, leaving only hazy emptiness.
I knew my name was Azalea, a sorceress mage.
But why was my memory of the last mission so blurred?
Why was there a gaping black hole where crucial events should be?
Selene’s eyes, even now, were too heavy with guilt for just ordinary help. She was hiding something, something monumental.
But I was too weak, too tired, too newly formed to demand the real answers.
The amulet’s light was gone, yet its power coursed through every fiber of my being.
My Aetherflow energy was surging, increasing beyond all normal limits—too stable, too perfect, unnaturally so. A suspicious perfection.
"I’m still alive..." I murmured, half to myself, half to Selene, a statement that felt more like a desperate question than a relief.
Was this truly the old me? Was I the same Azalea, or a new, re-formed version, with essential pieces missing?
Tears pricked my eyes, then spilled, hot trails down my temples. I didn’t know why I was crying. Perhaps my body remembered a truth my mind had forgotten. Perhaps the deepest, fractured part of my soul already knew: something had changed.
A sacrifice I wasn’t aware of. But for now, I was alive.
And no matter the cost, I would find out what truly happened. The truth had to be revealed, even if it meant tearing down all the lies that protected me from the pain.
A low, guttural growl ripped through the air, vibrating the very floorboards beneath me. Arthur. He was nearby, and clearly in agony.
My heart clenched, a primal fear seizing me, cold and sharp.
"Selene," my voice was still a raspy whisper, but I poured every ounce of my new, surging energy into it,
"What did you do to Arthur?"
She flinched, a slight, almost imperceptible tremor that confirmed my suspicions. Her gaze flickered towards the direction of the growl, then snapped back to me.
"It doesn’t matter, Azalea. He deserved it." Her voice, usually a silken thread, tightened into a taut wire, signaling the end of the discussion. But I wasn’t finished.
The growls intensified, drawing closer now, each one a gasp of pure agony. I could hear him dragging, scraping, desperately trying to move.
Then, his voice, thin and hoarse with suffering, splintered through the air:
"Azalea, help me!"
I struggled to push myself up, my muscles screaming in protest, my newly healed body feeling sluggish, weighted.
"Let me go," I pleaded, my voice gaining a desperate, ragged edge, almost a sob.
"I need to get to him! He’s my family!"
Instead of releasing me, Selene moved closer.
Her hands, surprisingly gentle despite her earlier magic, reached for me.
Her body, usually so poised and powerful, seemed to lean heavily, her breath shallow. The residue of immense magic, freshly unleashed, still clung to her like a shroud—she was clearly spent from whatever devastating torrent she’d unleashed on Arthur.
Yet, she offered to carry me.
"Don’t be so foolish," she murmured, her voice laced with an odd mix of tenderness and steel. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her, her eyes briefly flicking heavenward before settling back on me, heavy with a burden of protective weariness.
"You can barely move, let alone walk. So, let me carry you."
I recoiled, shocked by her touch.
"Why?"
I demanded, pushing weakly against her hands.
"What is he to you? What did he do?"
My mind reeled at her words, as if she’d never let me sympathize with his pain.
"Boyfriend? Absolutely not, right?"
A dark cloud passed over Selene’s face, her eyes narrowing with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
"He’s a filthy Archon, Azalea," she spat, the words venomous, dripping with an ancient hatred. A hatred so profound, it seemed she knew his truest form far better than I, who had known him for years.
"And they all deserve to suffer for what they’ve done. Especially to you."
Her voice dropped, becoming a low, fervent murmur, filled with a history I didn’t comprehend. She spoke of betrayal and ancient wars, of broken pacts and lives shattered by their arrogance.
"Why?" I asked, completely lost.
She continued, a dam broken by her rage, her words a torrent about how their very existence was a blight, how their power was a lie built on the suffering of countless others, and how Arthur was just another brick in their towering edifice of deceit.
As she spoke, the room seemed to grow cold, filled with the echoes of old grievances.
Her Primordial Recovery magic might have saved me, but it was clear that a different, far darker power had just been unleashed on Arthur.
