Weight of the World

Chapter Thirty-Five

—Tregaar—

Remaining idle had never been his strong suit. Moments of sedentary silence had never been particularly relaxing to Regis. It was never restful, never rejuvenating. Instead, in the silence he could only hear his mother's screams as she died a most horrific death, could hear his sister scream as she was pushed over the edge of the Verdant Spire, and he could see, with vivid clarity, the startling reality of a quarter of his city dead in the streets. There were plenty more memories to haunt him as well. He had a lifetime of them stored up, and at the center of so many was his father.

Which was why he preferred to remain busy. Unfortunately for him, that was no longer much of an option. After the healers had tended to his wounds, he had been ordered that he would remain in bed for at least a few days to allow the wound in his chest to close properly. Regis had never responded well to orders, but in all honesty, he wasn't yet feeling as though he could move around without feeling weak, and so, rather than embarrassing himself, he would listen.

For now.

There were reports that could distract him for the time being, but sooner or later, what he could manage to do from his bed would be finished and he would be left there in the silence. The thought was less than ideal.

A knock on his door. Regis called for the person to enter so that they could distract him. Hadrius entered and bowed, informing him that Raler and Sahn had returned from their assignment, the former waiting just outside to meet with him. Regis waved him in.

"Shit, don't think I've ever seen you laid up before," Raler wince as he stepped into the bedroom. Hadrius closed the door behind him, leaving the old friends alone.

Regis lowered the documents he held, his eyes drifting over Raler quickly. His friend was limping a bit, a thick bandage wrapped around his chest, appearing between the open edges of his half-buttoned shirt. Scrapes and bruises littered nearly everywhere he could see.

"At least, I look better than you," Regis deadpanned as Raler made his way toward the windows, leaning casually against them. "What happened?"

"Ashkaar."

Regis sat up quickly, the action pulling at the wound in his shoulder. He winced, gingerly touching the wound to see if he had ripped the stitches, but the bandage remained white. He looked back at Raler, hoping his friend was making a terrible joke.

Raler shook his head. "It ain't a joke."

"Tell me everything."

"Sahn and I were trackin' down Eclipse when we sensed dark magic near Shortrun Pier."

"The King of Bones?"

"Virmira Tanadall. Didn't see her directly, but we found two of her goons. They were sniffin' around the dockhouse and the sick there. Don't know why. We were able to subdue them, but then..." Raler let out a low breath, eyes closing briefly. "It was just like the Tomb...Ashkaar appeared out of nowhere, a wraith made of shadow, but he...he did somethin'. I don't know what, but all the sick...he...melted them just like...He absorbed them, made himself solid, and he attacked us and Virmira's guys too."

Regis frowned. "But you're here, and you're not sick? So, how did you stop him?"

"I didn't. The Nightwarden did."

Regis leaned back, trying to comprehend the situation his friend relayed. This was beyond anything he had expected. "The Nightwarden was able to stop Ashkaar?"