Van awoke to find Ig at his side, using his magic to heal his wound. Oblivion singed the torn flesh, making it black as coal. Veins of green snaked in the corrupted skin as if the blood circulating spoiled as it went through. No doubt it felt that way: he could feel the pain throughout his body. His head was slick with sweat, and he felt sick. He could see Jayden farther off, sitting on a piece of debris. When he tried to move, pain shot up all around him.
"Just rest, all right?" Ig said to him, "I can't heal you all the way. But you seem to be healing—"
Van slipped out of the world and back into slumber.
He was back at Aventyne, eating dinner with his family: both of his blood and the ones whose bond were soon to be forged by marriage—one he was forced into. This was one of the nights after they took him from Leonette.
The Blackwoods and Snowvales got along well, it seemed: father chatted with King Oda's wife (his soon-to-be mother-in-law), and mother gossiped with Parellia Snowvale. Her maiden name was Redleaf; it was her husband, Harken, who made her a Snowvale. The two had a daughter who rarely talked to anyone; the girl was quiet and shy. Van often saw this young girl reading her books alone in the grand garden. Van couldn't remember her name, however. Outside, something was clawing at the windows. When Van looked, the clawing ceased.
Next to Van was an empty seat; it was no mystery as to who sat there.
"Princess Ladnavia," announced a steward who entered before her.
Ladnavia lightly shoved the steward as she passed him. Likewise, she jogged her chair, making her spill her cup of well-watered wine on her pretty white-and-red dress.
"'Tis was an accident," said Ladnavia, shrugging and without remorse. She took her seat and kissed Van on the cheek. "Good evening, my love."
"My lady," Van said, his tone perfunctory.
"You are late," King Oda said firmly, ignoring her behavior.
"My hair was being stubborn," Ladnavia defended herself, airily, "it won't happen again, father."
King Oda grunted then turned to Vandal.
"You have not answered my question, Prince Vandal." The red king's eyes were as cold as they were gold. "Need I repeat myself?"
Ludovic, the perverted slug of a man, butted in. "Perhaps he still has mud in his ears from wallowing with the sow, yes?" He openly laughed at his own joke.
Just as before, Van felt the desire to throw his wine cup at the sick bastard, hoping to chip a tooth or blacken an eye for saying such things about Leonette.
But, reliving the memory, Van need not irritate King Oda by making him repeat his question.
"No," Van answered the king, "there were no other magicians."
King Oda didn't seem to trust or like the answer, but Van did not care. Even if I knew there were more, why would I tell you? The clawing came back. When Van looked this time, he saw a few crows; they were battering the stained glass with their wings, beaks, and claws. Van seemed to be the only one to notice the siege.
"Perhaps you will answer my next question honestly," said King Oda.
This took Van aback: King Oda never asked him that in the past.
"Are you a coward?" King Oda asked. "Or are you weak?"
"What?" muttered Van.
The red king's face twisted in anger. His eyes turned green and his eyelids blackened. Outside, a dozen more crows joined the assault, cawing and pecking at the glass.
"Are you weak?" The king repeated.
Before Van could answer, Ladnavia spoke. "Surely, he is a coward." Her eyes transformed and matched her father's. Soon everyone else in the room had the same gaze of oblivion.
"He couldn't even save the women he loved," spat his father, King Vance. He tore a leg off a rotting capon, covered in flies. "Perhaps he is both?" The food on the table had spoiled, and the stench of rot filled the air.
"SHUT UP!" Van screamed, slamming his fist on the table, "damn you, Snowvales. Damn this whole castle! You ask me if I am weak? If I am a coward? What of my Leonette? She was just a peasant girl, and her uncle could only heal wounds." He turned to face King Oda. "And you, a king of Aventyne, sanctioned their deaths. What does that make you?"
The windows above shattered, and half a hundred crows flew in. Their infiltration complete, they turned on each other over King Oda's head. Feathers filled the air as they pecked at each other. Their blood bound the wounded, and soon a great ball of feathers and blood formed. The mass took shape.
Human in form, it sprouted dripping wings like that of its parents. The black blood dripped away and revealed itself.
Dark Weaver—no, Nu—stood before him.
"You are not weak," she said to him, "you are not a coward."
Van looked up at her, tears running down his face. "I will save you."
"There is nothing to save."
"That is just Shadow speaking."
"There is no Shadow. There is no Nuallis. We are Dark Weaver. That is all."
"Shadow can be exorcised. The Aether Spirit … the Eye … it must be destroyed!"
It has to be, mused Vyncent, perhaps it binds Nu to it.
"Must it? You know not of the results."
"Neither do you."
Dark Weaver began to melt away, flesh and bone. "Such stubbornness …"
One by one, the candles and torches blew themselves out. As they approached Van where he stood, the dining hall seemed to crumble away like wet sand.
He awoke. The sky above him, he noticed, was red. He saw Ignatius sitting close by. When the caster saw him try to stand, he called out to him. "You barely slept," he pointed out, not unkindly.
"Sleep didn't do me any good," Van admitted, making a wry smile.352Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHVDsUOIFuB
