The Fallout

Persephone

I wanted to chase after him. I wanted to know what that was. But I was stopped by Carolinus. He rubbed his throat, gasping for air as he put a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Don't go after him," he heaved between breathes.

Shakily, Epoch got back on his feet. Shooting Carolinus a knowing glance, he quickly gathered his things and excused himself. I knew he had gone to chase after him. Surveying the room, Carolinus gathered his breath together and in a loud, but reassuring voice he stated, "Xavier is… going through some things. If you want to know, you should ask him. It is nothing to worry about."

I felt like that was an understatement. In my mind, I had already connected the change and Xavier with this burst of violence. The pieces fell together and I knew what happened. The prophecy, his eyes, his magic. He was one of them. I was ready to shout it out, to call out Carolinus on his bullshit, but then I saw Solskin's face. The look of pure confusion and helplessness. He was already in a fragile state. I didn't think he would be able to take it. He trusted Xavier, like a hero. My mind flashed back to him that night, blood pouring out, sword through his stomach. Never again. I would protect him. I would make sure he got through this.

Solskin

The gears in my head were slowly churning to a sickening conclusion. The moment of epiphany hit me much later after the fight. We had long returned to our rooms at the inn without him. He had disappeared, vanished as quickly as he appeared. At first, I felt awed by his sheer power, by his mysteriousness. Now, I realized what he really was.

I was so blind, blind to all the signs. The scars on his face were familiar because I saw them ten years ago. He was the survivor of the Bloody First. Carolinus's words only further proved that point. He confirmed that Xavier was one of them. He was the one that attacked me. My world shook, betrayal clawing at my heart.

The pain was almost unbearable, but ironically, it was Xavier's words that now helped me through. "Confront my fear. Use it to fight on." They became a chant that kept my blade in my sheath. Never again would I be that weak. If I was to die, then I would die by the other's blade. For a moment, I felt thankful to It. But quickly, I felt sick by that thought. How could I be grateful to It? It killed Erik. It attacked my village.

As quickly as I felt sick, I felt conflicted. Why would a monster help me? I replayed the memories of our journey together. Xavier had saved my life during the bandit fight. Xavier helped me fight the blacksmith. Xavier consoled me when I was scared for my life. My head hurt just trying to wrap around it.

I decided to go down for a drink to clear my mind. It was approaching the dinner rush and the bar was quickly filling up. The crowd forced me into a dim corner. It was kind of fitting, the depressing atmosphere there reflected my mood. After ordering some beer, I began to drank away the night. I stopped thinking about it, instead focusing on the sights of the capital. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't recapture that childish innocence and joy I had when I first arrived. That was forever lost to me now.

??????

I got my mission, not soon after Mordred blacked out. So, I began my hunt. Donning my cloak, I left the hideout at first light. He was someone who began poking too far down the wrong avenues. His name was Strikan, one of the local guardsmen under Lieutenant Savah's command. He hung around a bar, drinking with friends and digging up leads. About me. Savah wanted me dead, and I knew why.

I sat nearby to Strikan, resting my eyes and nursing some warm cider. The conversation was nothing important, something about his child's birthday coming up. I leaned back, allowing the warm and boisterous atmosphere to take hold of me.

I was back at my first mission ten years ago. My very first target was actually two people. One Shiraa and Vrak, tieflings within the local guard. I relived that memory, picking out the details that I perfectly stored in my mind.

I scratched at my new tattoo which still was red and puffy. I was new to this, transforming from a simple hunter to a killer. However, I had resolved myself to this. There was no doubt in my mind, despite the blaring awareness of the evil in the act. The blood would fall squarely in my hand, the guilt my own. I stopped scratching my hand, looking up towards the new moon. It was dark and oppressive, the night air damp. Quietly, I picked my bow and slunk towards the town, not a sound to be heard.