Sins of the Forgotten King

4

Adar returned to the healer's cell hours later, the sound of the door creaking open once again pulling her from her thoughts. This time, he carried a small bundle in his hands—a neatly wrapped cloth that he placed gently on the floor before her.

"I see the fire in your eyes," Adar said, his tone calculated, though there was an odd warmth to it. "That same fire once burned in me, before I understood the weight of the path I now walk."

He stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers. "You are strong, healer, but strength without purpose will only consume you. I offer you purpose—a chance to use your gift not as a weapon of vengeance, but to heal something far greater than either of us."

He gestured to the bundle. "Inside is food. And herbs. Use them to regain your strength. Soon, I will need you to tend to my... children. They suffer, as do you. But you may yet find solace in caring for those who cannot care for themselves."

Adar's eyes searched hers, as if waiting to see how she would respond. "Will you continue to fight against what could save you? Or will you let your gift do what it was always meant to?"

Adar watched her in silence, his sharp eyes catching the small tremor in her hands as she took the food. He noted her silence, the way she avoided his gaze, and it stirred something deep within him—a strange mixture of curiosity and recognition.

"I see," he finally spoke, stepping back slightly. "You are not yet ready to speak."

His voice softened, but his words still carried weight. "There is no shame in silence, healer. Words are... fragile things. But even in your quiet, I can feel your anger—sharp and untamed."

He folded his arms behind his back, his figure casting a long shadow over her. "You think I am your enemy, but that is only because you do not yet understand. I was once like you. Torn between hatred and the desire to heal. It is a cruel place to stand, isn't it? Between destruction and salvation."

Adar's eyes narrowed, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "I wonder how long you can hold that rage, before it consumes you."

He tilted his head, as if inviting her to speak, to challenge him. "Tell me, healer... how do you plan to use that fire inside you?"

The healer snaps, "Why do you care? Why have you even brought me here? Why didn't you just kill me or leave me to give over the death of my people? Why were you even there at my tower after the destruction? You try to say all these flowery words, yet I don't trust you an inch."

Adar's smirk faded as the healer's words cut through the tension in the air, sharp and unyielding. He straightened, the weight of her accusation lingering between them like a shadow.

"Trust is a fragile thing," he said, his voice low and steady, an edge of steel hidden beneath the calm. "I do not expect you to trust me. I would be a fool to think otherwise. But I brought you here for a reason, not out of mercy, but necessity."

He stepped closer again, lowering his voice. "I was at your temple because I sought to reclaim what was lost. Not only the physical structure but the legacy of those who perished there. Your people had power—wisdom—and I sought it for my own children, to protect them from the same fate."

Adar's eyes bore into hers, a fierce intensity flaring within. "I did not kill you because I see something in you that can be of use. You have a gift, healer. A gift that could mend what has been broken—not just in your heart but in the hearts of others. I can give you a choice: to heal or to fight. But fighting without purpose only leads to more death. I will not let that happen to you again."

He paused, gauging her reaction, as if daring her to continue to push back against him. "So tell me, do you wish to continue this dance of anger and resentment, or will you consider what lies ahead?"