The Forgotten Light

70. Darksen

He regretted nothing.

Things may not have gone the way he wanted, for he was now sitting locked in a dark crypt beneath the arena's auditorium waiting for the sun to rise, but the girl was free. He knew she wasn't that stupid to come back and save him from losing his head. She ran away from him as far as possible. She owed him nothing, and he deserved to be rescued by nothing. She hated him with all her heart, one look from her blue eyes was enough for him to know this for sure. The King was also aware of this, therefore, furious as ever, he sent his soldiers after her.

Darksen felt that the fugitive had a chance; after all, there was the Aeternal with her, who seemed remarkably resourceful. Perhaps they would find a way to cross the wall. Since all the guards were searching the city, they could break into the air base and fly one of the machines away... But did they know they had that option?

The former Prince let the air out of his aching lungs and clanged the chains, rubbing his face with his hand. He couldn't help but think that he had stopped the portal. He could have lasted at least a little longer. One second more would have been enough for Raysun's daughter and the blond boy to be behind the city wall. But he had to do it, otherwise the pursuing Invicta would fall into the tunnel right behind them.

The longer he thought about it, the more convinced he was that he had made the wrong decision. They would have been able to defeat the few Beings who would have made their way with them out of San Diego. Instead, they had the entire city on them.

His left arm pulsed painfully, reminding him of the vulture's poison. When the King's guard captured him, the makeshift tourniquet came loose and fell somewhere along the way. Now the venom was spreading faster through his body and he felt he had less and less time. He had no idea what would happen to him if he didn't take the antidote in time.

He closed his eyes and immediately began to dream. He stood literally inches away from a fair-haired girl with unusually blue eyes that, combined with tears, resembled shimmering sapphires. He had a black pistol in his hand. He knew her name, but felt that he couldn't say it, couldn't even think of it. It was as if he didn't know it. She looked at him the way one looked at a traitor - with anger, hatred, pain and disbelief.

He didn't want to do it, but he had to. His heart was pounding so madly that it hurt. Was this what it felt like when one's heart was about to burst?

The girl jumped to him, but before she could even brush him, he swung the gun at her head and squeezed the trigger.

There was silence in the room. The girl's eyelids fluttered, she wobbled and sank to the steps of the platform.

Darksen stood motionless and looked at what he had done. He had to convince himself that she wasn't dead. He had shot, but after all, the bullet was stuck in the wall. Why so much blood, then?

"I have to admit, Darksen, you are full of surprises." The King, who was suddenly right next to him, put a large hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You said something about the location of the remnants of humanity. Where are they?"

"The map is on my desk," he said stiffly, remaining motionless.

A minute later Invicta was no longer in the room, he was left alone. He looked away from the girl, glanced at his hands. He tossed the gun aside and thought about the tunnel, about the rebels waiting for him in Sedona.

How long did they have before Thandor realized that nothing new was marked on the map?

He woke up abruptly when the heavy door opened with a creak of its hinges, and two white-haired Invicta entered.

"Get up, your time has come, misfit," the woman ordered, unclasping the shackles from the chain attached to the wall.

"Unfortunately, your little heroine didn't show up. Do you know what this means?"

Indeed.

There was a chance she was already free.

He got up before they could pick him up and walked out of the dark crypt by himself, trying to take steady steps and walk straight.

A wooden platform had been placed in the middle of the arena, with three steps leading up to it. Isan was already waiting at the top with a sharp sword in his hand. Darksen climbed onto the stage and looked around. Beings from all over the city seemed to have gathered for the show that was about to take place. There was a shortage of seats in the auditorium, and many Invicta were standing against the walls of the arena.

He stopped his gaze at the seats carved into the cliff.

"On your knees," ordered Thandor.

Darksen looked directly at his father and felt something new. The cruelty and darkness that usually appeared when he was next to the King were no longer written all over his face. He felt relieved and happy to finally be free of his influence.

He hated who he was. This self-hatred had already eaten too much into his heart and he was tired of it.

He stopped pretending to be someone he wasn't, finally showing who he was.

And he felt good about it.

His only regret was that it had taken him so long to realize all this. He had done so much wrong that single good deeds didn't stand the slightest chance of breaking out of the darkness that surrounded him. They didn't matter at all.

But nothing was going to matter anymore, after all, his hopeless life was about to end. The only thing he felt at that moment was relief that he would never again have to think about how he could have done things completely differently. No longer would he remember the foolish decisions he had made under the influence of fear, no longer would he know how little courage he had in himself.

No more being a model son of the King. No more standing on this side of this nonsensical war. No more hiding his different character.

Relief.

The white-haired Invicta kicked him in the legs, forcing him to follow the King's command. Unable to soften his fall with his hands, which were still fettered on his back, he socked his knees painfully against the boards. He drew air sharply into his lungs and almost choked in surprise when he smelled his jasmine soap.