The Next Erased Title for Security Reasons

Chapter 16: Reconciliation and Accusation

Central market and trading post, Espacea

Shadow stood at the fountain, looking around. Espacea had brought no recollections, but the place certainly looked different. All that revolutionary preaching by the Behemoth certainly had done something good, he thought.

Who?

The Behemoth? Who was that? Shadow racked his brains. Then he remembered a beautiful mouth. A dazzling smile. Rose-bud lips sculpted to divine perfection.

'Oh, you mean the Rebels' 'Prince'? He's a pretty little thing, wouldn't you agree, considering the time you spent ravishing him?' His mind usefully supplied. And, with that one name piercing through into his burning wish to remember, the memories came flooding into his mind, images of the ethereal creature he had loved and tortured, the way he had adoringly breathed that name over and over in his ecstasies and despairs...

The Behemoth, his most precious treasure, who had entwined himself into the very fibre and core of Shadow's being. Their love had been everything; priceless and blissful.

His darling, darling 'Prince'.

Oh, Heavens, what in the world had he done?

Shadow desperately ran back to the inn. His captive had been unbound for far too long, and had seized the chance to escape. Shadow cursed under his breath. His darling was in no state to be running, courtesy of himself and he despised himself for that. He chased after the Behemoth. Running in an unfamiliar town didn't help either, but somehow, Shadow made it to the archway at the entrance of Central Espacea. It seemed as though his beloved hadn't, despite having a head-start, but that came as no surprise, considering the latter wasn't exactly in peak fitness.

Said love had been so ill-treated to the point that he had to wobble and crawl through the streets to even move a yard. His pride didn't allow him to crawl publicly, so he struggled his way over rooftops and battered, deserted roads. He barely made it to the archway after an infinity of agonising strokes, and never saw his assailant scanning the town from the top of the arch. Dried blood and frozen tears clouded his vision, not to mention the occular wreckage still covered in trapped butterflies.

He made a beeline to the archway and toppled over a pumpkin vendor's stall, crashing onto the iron physique of the Meltinzer youth that had just descended the arch. He pulled his hood low, muttering a teary apology, and attempted to get away. Shadow grabbed him, pushed his makeshift hood back, and glared at him.

When he saw that it was into his beloved's clutches that he had fallen, he sighed despairingly and lost consciousness.

[Fast forward]

The Behemoth woke up again, to find himself tucked comfortably in bed. He was surprised that Shadow hadn't bound him or submerged him in any Essences. He looked out of the window and saw the same Espacean landscape. The cape and hood made of bed-coverings had been washed and was at present, hanging in the sunny garden. The Behemoth felt warm under the fluffy blanket, and he was thoroughly bandaged. The familiar scent of herbal pastes and sizzling meat filled his nose.

He sat up gingerly. He had been washed recently, and his tortured, starved body reacted to the smell of food. He dragged himself out of bed, his nose guiding his feet to wherever the meat was being cooked.

His knees buckled. He had used up every bit of the strength in him for the last escape attempt. He fell, pulling a rickety, three-legged stool down with him. Shadow rushed inside, on hearing the commotion, and forcibly carried the Behemoth back to bed. The latter flinched at his touch and edged away, and Shadow felt a pang of guilt when he saw the bandaged eye. He knelt beside the bed and kissed the Behemoth's pale hand reverentially. Then, being more sinner than saint, he kissed the soft flesh of the 'Prince's' inner wrist, as the latter turned in shock.