The Obsidian Empire

Chapter 13: False Hope

Llwell wonders if this whole process takes long enough if the chains around his wrists will start to rust from his blood spilling from his arm. A morbid thought, but given enough time, the rusted chains might be easier to break and he'd have a chance to escape. Aside from the fact that he'd first have to bleed enough to rust the chains through, and if it gets to that point, he might just be dead already.

He usually doesn't like letting thoughts like that run through his head, but since Dumaine left that's been all he can think about. Maybe he has to think about things like that in order to block out the more painful thoughts. Like remembering that look in Dumaine's eyes as they dragged him away. The bitterness to his voice when he spoke to him. The sight of Dumaine wearing the robes of a magister.

And on top of it all, knowing that the chances of the Restoration recovering from the Baptism of Fire are slim to none. Whoever becomes Grand Magister will undoubtedly force the order to disband. Without the Restoration or the Hollow, the world has no chance of surviving the Third Year.

He doesn't want to think about it, but the thoughts keep crawling back, clawing at his mind until he can't fight back anymore. Thinking about the world being left desolate by the demons. Knowing that humanity wouldn't just be killed, they would be tormented. They would be broken. Enslaved.

Rosanhi would go into hiding for as long as she could, but eventually she would be found and imprisoned, likely being tortured to death because she's too defiant to ever be chained. Sillavanna would resist until the demons break her mind and force her to serve them. It's hard to predict what would come of Dumaine, since he's Tessian. If the Tessians have their way, they will be spared from the demon's conquest.

But perhaps the most terrifying thought is what might happen to Etho. All he ever wants to do is help people. But if there are no more people to help, he'll lose his purpose in life. He'll be reverted back to an Accidie and become corrupt, ending up just like any other demon with the sole intent of killing the helpless. That thought hurts most of all.

He shoves it back. He forces himself to close his eyes and breathe steadily, somewhat relieved when the pulsating pain in his arm grapples his full attention so he doesn't have to think about all of that anymore. He just needs to breathe.

No matter what happens next, he knows that he's going to die regardless of the trial. Even if he's proven innocent, it's only a matter of time before the Siphon kills him. And judging by how it's been hurting more and more lately, he's willing to bet it won't be much longer. He only hopes he won't have to spend his final moments alone in a cell of the Exalted Magisterium.

If only it were an option to give the Siphon to someone else when he dies. Even if she'll never admit it to his face, he knows that part of the reason Sillavanna hated him at first was because she wanted to be chosen as Hollow before all of this started. She would protect humanity well in his absence.

But it's not an option. At least not that he knows of.

When he opens his eyes, his mind is pulled out of the moment and into another. He's still on his knees, only instead of the small dark cell, he's in the familiar foyer of the unfamiliar golden palace. He kneels before the towering staircase with gold statues standing to symbolize the elven goddesses.

Lifting his head, he sees Etho sitting on the top step in the center of the staircase with his head down and his hands fidgeting in his lap.

"Pain, pushing, pulling. The strings go taut but they don't snap, they sit, watch and wait for the next step they force you to take. You don't want to be here. Burning... It won't stop. It won't stop. Someone, please, make it stop... Make it—" the boy stops to shake his head, clasping his left hand tightly over his right.