An Elegy For The Soul

Chapter Ten

Those We Let Go

White-hot, searing pain branded the flesh around River's neck. He had attempted to stop Lucan from leaving, but the agony overwhelmed him, anchoring him in place at the table.

Dormant promises surfaced, demanding recognition. If River refused to acknowledge his oath, the gold chain would persist in digging into him, tightening its grip until it severed through his neck.

I will not barter with my soul. I will not barter with my soul, he thought over and over again.

The pain gradually subsided as the chain loosened its vice-like grip. River straightened his spine and pushed back his shoulders. Despite his efforts over the past twelve years, he couldn't free himself from the necklace. The shackle remained firm, unyielding, a constant reminder of his mother's sacrifice.

Pale fingers rested on the table, just beyond reach. Aven's gaze, wide and filled with concern, locked onto River. Firelight danced in her green eyes, reflecting the crackling flames nearby. "River, what happened? Do you need a doctor?" she asked in a hurried whisper, looking around the festival grounds in a bit of a panic.

Sweat dripped down the side of his face. He pulled a cotton handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed at his temples. "I am a doctor," he gritted through clenched teeth, his focus on steadying his breaths. "It's just the wine. I've had too much."

"Is that so?" she asked in a tone that called him on his lie even if her words did not.

"Yes."

Aven drummed her fingers once on the table. "Well then, too much wine calls for some food. There are steamed buns just past the ring toss booth. Let's get you fed."

River tucked away his handkerchief and tugged at his collar, feeling the throb in his skin. Angry red marks of irritation likely marred his throat, as they often did during these episodes. He let his hand fall in an attempt to avoid drawing more unwanted attention to the area.

Three years had passed since the last attack, triggered by one of Lucan's experiments. River had been asleep when he woke to the familiar pain, shouting his oath into the darkness to spare his life. It was then that Lucan discovered the truth about his necklace, his curse—a revelation that intensified River's determination to steer clear of Lucan's obsessive quests into the mysteries of the soul.

"Shouldn't we wait for Lucan?" he asked.

Aven traced a finger along the cameo charm of her necklace. "He's being difficult, and I'm not inclined to tiptoe around his moods tonight. He'll join us when he's done peering into the future."

River raised his goblet and downed a mouthful of wine, ignoring Aven's pointed look. "It could be dangerous for him in there."

"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly. "To hear your future is to lose your freewill and bind yourself to the path that has been foretold." Her demeanor was unnervingly calm, as if the gravity of her words didn't register.

River furrowed his brow. "And we're just going to leave him to that fate? Allow him to potentially endanger himself?"

"Allow?" An incredulous look flashed across Aven's face. She flicked her tongue across a lingering drop of wine on her bottom lip. "We don't own the people we love. We don't have the power to grant permission for how others live their lives. All we can do is stand by and watch Lucan make his choices. And when those choices tear him apart, we'll be there as we always are—picking up the broken pieces and hoping the sharp edges don't cut us too deeply."