Sea of Glass ✔️

Chapter 36 - His Own Path

He decided to rest at the Duke's castle despite his foster father's wishes for him to stay away. Worn out by the quest Odi sent him on, his legs took him to the iron gates, trudging through inches of snow. By the time he reached the entrance, his pants were soaked to his knees.

The gates swung open with a light push, no armored soldiers guarding the front. He stepped through cautiously, unused to the emptiness.

His eyes darted along the cobbled path, searching for signs of struggle. He remembered the Duke telling him about taking one last stand against the Dracenians. But the snow was white, unstained by blood and violence.

He made it into the castle, which was equally as empty as the exterior. No one had lived behind the walls for a while so the air felt cold like a mausoleum. He walked among ghosts, hearing the memory of servants' voices echo in his mind's eye.

His gait slowed as he approached the Duke's chambers. He stood before the doors, not wanting to go in. The silence from the outside already told him enough.

An unseen force pushed him inside. Maybe it was an innocent gust of wind, but he suspected it was sent by Odi, who was no doubt getting bored of him standing around acting like a coward.

A fire roared in the middle of the room. Wine sat in a goblet, recently touched and halfway gone. And yet, the Duke wasn't in the room.

Still, he felt relieved. Someone was alive in the castle. All was not lost.

A movement darted out from the corner of his eye. Pure instinct alone prevented the letter opener from piercing his throat. He tightened his grip around the wrist of the assailant, forcing him to drop the blade.

He met the bewildered gaze of the Duke, who struggled against his hand viciously.

"Father? Don't you recognize me?"

The older man kicked out his feet, intensifying his struggle. Haydn glanced at the letter opener on the carpet, catching his reflection.

Oh. His glamour was gone. He inhaled, letting the magic coat his skin. By the time he released his breath, he was the spitting image of Damon again.

The Duke relaxed in his grip. "It's you. I'm sorry. I couldn't tell by that disguise you wore."

He looked into his foster father's bleary eyes, waiting for him to tell him that he was joking. Didn't he know that his real son was long dead in an unmarked grave?

But the laughter never came. It dawned on him that the Duke was getting old. There were more gray streaks in his hair than the last time he saw him. Although he wasn't certain exactly how old he was, he could tell that he was approaching physical decline. His mind would soon follow, with time eroding his memory.

"I told you to stay in Myrania," he admonished. "And yet you disobeyed me and returned home."

"My God commanded me to leave. I would not have done so otherwise."

"Who chose you?" The Duke sat down, processing the new information.

"Odi."

He sucked in a breath at the sound of the Chaos God's name. "I must look like a fool thinking that you needed protection. You won't die until he says so. As long as he needs you, you will live for a very long time."

The corpse of his previous Chosen One flashed through his head. Although the body had wasted away to the point it was unrecognizable, he could easily imagine him living to be at least a century old before Odi cast him away. But those who served his God never remained sane for long. Any "protection" that Odi placed over him could not counteract the mental costs of serving him.