The Black Lotus | Vol.1, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

31.

Sebastian's felt like he'd been set on fire.

Every fiber of his being screamed in agony. He felt damp bandages wrapped around his midsection. The sharp smell of mint and something else he couldn't place his finger on tickled his nose. Some sort of balm had been rubbed against his skin, likely to combat whatever damages he sustained.

He thought back to the images the artifacts showed him moments before the Shades arrived. That same scene of him standing on that balcony in the Eldenarian Palace was there. The Obscurio had shown it to him before. And there it was again.

This time, he knew what it meant.

He was the King.

But how could he rule anything if he couldn't even defeat his father?

Memories of their fight choked him until he saw stars.

What was I thinking?

Even with the Obscurio, he was no match for his father. He had been a fool to think otherwise. Now the ring was gone, back in the possession of its true master. Shame flooded his head; he could feel it trying to escape through his eyes. He didn't let the tears fall. They wouldn't bring the Obscurio back.

They wouldn't fix his mistakes.

Blinking away the darkness around him, he slowly lifted his head, the muscles in his neck struggling to support the weight. Faint, pain-filled groans filled the room. Even at this hour, healers milled about, tending to the dozens of wounded placed on makeshift cots and stretchers.

This time, it was Sebastian who was confined to a bed in the infirmary. It was packed to the walls. Two injured magicians laid on either side of him, their bodies just a foot away. He could barely breathe. The room looked a lot smaller now.

So many people had been hurt because of the Order of the Black Lotus. And these were just those who survived. How many hadn't? How many fell to the Shades? He dropped his head onto his pillow and exhaled.

Thinking about it only brought more guilt. More humiliation.

Gritting his teeth, he swung his legs over his cot. He forced himself to stand despite the jolts of discomfort shooting up his legs. Carefully, he made his way over to the exit of the infirmary. None of the medics paid him any mind. They were too busy carting around bandages and medicines to worry about him.

He hobbled out of the building and stepped into the brisk, midnight air. The destruction of the village met his eyes.

Multiple structures and tents had been put to flame. Some were salvaged while others had been reduced to rubble and ash. The Order likely brought a few pyromancers with them on their attack. House Tenebris wasn't the only house they recruited magicians from.

Scowling, he passed by a cracked fountain. Water trickled through the gaps in the stone, forming a tiny river in the grass.

There was too much going on in his head. He couldn't stay inside that infirmary for another second. A walk through the forest was in order.

❁

Wandering through the woods wasn't one of his brightest ideas, but he didn't care at the moment. He needed to clear his mind.

He found solace beneath the moon and amongst the towering pine trees. Owls hooted in the distance, their noises echoing through the night. A chill permeated through his clothes and stabbed at his skin. He tightened his jacket and soldiered forward.

During his short walk through Hodvekt, he could feel something was off. It was like the soul had been ripped from the village, leaving behind a deep void, a chasm of sorrow. A melancholic fog sifted through the trees around him.