Contradicting Identities (4/6) || Reyin

The fire crackled and swayed vigorously, illuminating this clear area I'd settled in at the edge of the forest, the lake just behind the sheer cover of foliage and nature behind me. And with each pop of the scarlet flames came the memory of my first night at the Avalon Castle. I hadn't known anyone, and none of my new family had tried to acknowledge me. The reason for my adoption had been unknown. And it still was. 

On my first night, I had discovered loneliness, and she'd held my hand while I curled into a ball in the darkness of my large room alone. 

I hadn't been able to bear it. It had felt cold. Painful. Empty. It had felt like a gap widening in my chest and spilling all of my life's essence out of me. 

So, I'd snuck outside. It hadn't required much effort. None of the guards had cared enough to keep the newly adopted village boy safely inside, likely hoping I would have fled like the unpredictable animal they'd seen me as.

I hadn't roamed far, only arriving at a discreet courtyard I discovered on the side of the castle, caged in by tall, stone walls—I remembered the vines that would crawl up and drape over the tops of them, tantalizing me with a way to escape and return to my old home. Instead, I had taken a spot in the flower-dotted grass and looked up at the stars that watered the gardens. 

Later that night, I'd been encountered by my oldest sister, Emelia. She was a handful of years older than me, and her curious brown eyes had captured me with glaring affection. That had been the only night she'd extended her kindness to me in a way that felt like home. And when she'd grabbed my hand and hauled me to the corner of the courtyard, she started a fire and fed me treats she'd snuck from the kitchen. We'd exchanged stories, and we'd laughed, and we'd eaten.

And we'd been found the next morning, the fire long extinguished, chocolate and crumbs around our mouths, and our bodies leaning against each other while we'd slept. Things had never been the same between us after that night. Emelia had never smiled that warmly again or invited me to the kitchen to share fresh desserts. 

I'd always wondered what had changed—what I had done to push her away after a single night, but it was pointless to ask. I only wished I hadn't been treated to such an affectionate and warm night with such a lovely and kind sister—which I had never had before. 

The memory of her unrestrained and doting smile made my stomach ache. It added pressure to my eyes that I needed to blink rapidly to loosen. 

Hael had said he'd killed her. All of them.

It would be easy to believe him, for I had no doubt my beloved family was dead now.

However, my spirit was telling me it was possible Hael had lied. That my family hadn't died at his hands after all. But if that were true, the following question would be: Why? Why would he lie about eradicating my family? Why would he capture me only to deliver me somewhere he claimed was safe? Just what was I to him? These questions formed knots in my mind, impossible to disentangle without valid answers. I struggled to comb through them until Hael returned an hour later. He emerged gracefully from the depths of the forest with a splintered basket hanging from his loosely curled fingers. 

He said nothing as he sat on the tall stone slab beside me, rummaging through the basket. 

"Did you purchase that?" I asked to distract myself from the fist squeezing in my chest. 

"The girl's mother gave it to me. There is a garden village two miles from here."

Both of my mothers had been passionate about gardening once. I gave a woeful nod, suddenly much more emotional and mentally exhausted. With a lazy tilt of my head, I watched as Hael found a bright red apple in the basket and began to peel it with the blade he kept holstered to his ankle.

"You don't like the skin on your fruit?" I asked, curious and wanting to know more about him. I needed to collect more pieces to the puzzle he was, and later, I would figure out where each section fit. 

Hael's hands paused as he considered a response. They started moving again as he said, "I don't mind it. However, you do."

An incredulous huff left me, and it was weary as I wondered how he even knew that personal detail. If I inquired about it, I doubted he'd answer me. Hael was peeling an apple for me because he somehow knew I disliked the bitter taste of the skin and something about that was so intimate and personal that it tumbled affection around the fields in my chest. 

Why was he going so far for me?

And this wasn't the first time, either.

I had yet to receive any answers from him as to why he treated me this way, and it was maddening to a boiling point. Not one thing he did made sense to me.

Gathering a sudden surge of bravery, I touched Hael's wrist. The muscles in it twitched. His eyes flew to me innocently, a hint wary, indicating he knew I intended to interrogate him.

"You didn't have to help that girl earlier, but you did."

"And you could have fled while I was away, but you did not," he countered quietly, frustrating me with his constant inclination to dodge my questions. 

I ignored him. "Why did you do it?"

"Why does anyone do anything?"

My teeth were beginning to feel sore from how roughly I ground them. I forced a deep breath and encouraged patience to take over. "Why does a murderer care if a child makes it home safely to her family or not?"

There it was. The subtle flinch. The discreet but evidently opposing twitch across his lips at my use of 'murderer'. He didn't like it when I referred to him as such, even though it was true. This only led me to believe there was more to his violence he wasn't sharing, and it pained him that I was unaware of it. Hael neither looked at me nor responded, the only noise between us the skittish fire and the satisfying sounds of apple carving. 

My heart was almost sure it was true: that there was more to his violence, something inescapable provoking him into it. 

I placed my hands over his, and his movements stopped abruptly. My stomach spasmed at our sudden connection. When I brushed my thumbs over his hard knuckles, I felt him tense beneath my grasp, and his eyes found mine warily. 

"What kind of person are you, Hael?" I whispered, searching his gaze which had gone innocent and fragile again. 

Pain slashed through his eyes and bled torment into the vibrant color. Hael hardened his countenance, trying to hide it, but I had already noticed. "The worst kind."

"I don't think I believe that."

"You have seen for yourself," he muttered, and this time, he couldn't conceal the pain and vulnerability tugging on his features. 

I leaned closer, making sure to look him steadily in his eyes. My heart had pulled me close enough to feel the rigid tugging of fragility and war within him. "I have seen the kind of person you can be, but is that the person you are?"

Green eyes widened, and pink lips parted in mild shock, like my question had simultaneously managed to unsettle and enlighten Hael. So, I ventured further, squeezing my hands around his cold ones, pushing warmth into him. 

"To that little girl, you said monsters were afraid of you, but every monster I have ever known has been afraid of light."

Hael snatched his hands away, although gently, and looked away from me. "There is a being far greater than any light who monsters fear." He stood abruptly.

"And who is that?" My eyes reached him longingly.

His head turned only a fraction to acknowledge I had spoken again to him. "The Devil, and he's created a monster out of me."

He left after that, going to tend to his horse beside the rippling lake. And when I slipped my eyes to the basket where Hael had sat, I saw the apple he'd peeled for me, cored and cut into thin slices.

Sighing, I took a slice, setting off another longing ache in my chest that I couldn't explain. 

Hael believed he was a monster, but monsters did not know how to use a blade for anything but inflicting pain and drawing blood. Hael had indeed inflicted misery and guilt across my soul. However, he'd also sliced me open and stuffed inside me an indescribable comfort and fondness for him that felt native to my being, raveling the cord of my emotions around his blade without even knowing. 

I was no longer afraid of him but curious and determined to discover who he was.

Who he really was.