Elven Legacy

Chapter 133

Imxi

The structures of her mind were falling apart, the scaffolding that once held them together now tumbling to useless pieces and scraps under too destructive a storm.

All around her, the demon-less warriors had started to gather, yet at a respectful – or perhaps wary – distance from the disgraced Demon Queen. A dense cluster of clouds petulantly hid the sun, veiling the scene in ominous shadows.

Imxi looked despondently at the pale body sprawled across bloodied, trampled grass, black dress and dark green hair flailing in a boisterous wind that wouldn't let up. The rest of her lay with the blood-chilling stiffness of death. Imxi's fingers reflexively felt for Singhi's soft fur. Of course, they found only empty air.

She stood alone, now. They all did, in a way.

Only humans remained. Mortals. For better or for worst. Clearly, and without consulting anyone on the matter, Arakili had decided it was for the better.

Hot anger stabbed under Imxi's heart. She clenched her jaw, her eyes still fixed on the Demon Queen's body. Couldn't she have at least talked to Imxi about it? If only she'd been more honest. Imxi had been foolish enough to believe they understood one another.

Was it all for show, then, on Arakili's part? Was there no truth to their connection in the end? Only lies and deceit?

Honestly, had she even considered the consequences for the Chyulin people? Imxi was tempted to turn and stare at the great banners that flapped restlessly atop the city wall and watchtowers. No need, of course, she knew the emblem better than the palm of her own hand. Black moon and black stars against a white expanse to represent the Demon Realm, where the Chyulin people go when they die, to join Kespeon and Sunyi and all the others.

What would her people believe in now? What would be left after today but the scattered remains of their faith? And what of the Demon Blessed? How would they live on without the companions that had been with them for most of their lives, often since childhood?

How will I live? Without Singhi's loyal presence and the steadfast certitude that she was not, and never would be, alone.

Perhaps we're meant to be alone.

The thought left a bitter tang in her throat.

Regardless, she was still their empress, and so she must stand strong – or at the very least appear as such. So Imxi locked away her anger inside a cage, for now, whilst she faced King Jaden with steady eyes and a mind as clear as she could will it.

After being helped to his feet by the red-haired young man beside him, the Felleran King now seemed in sound enough condition to speak with her.

She reckoned no one present could have denied that this was incredibly awkward.

Especially since his shirt was ripped in places, enabling her to see a crescent moon scar in the middle of his chest, in which the skin was flattened to almost nonexistence. As if the life had been sucked out of it. Nearly pure white, although the rest of his skin wasn't much darker.

She decided to begin with, "I'm truly sorry for what we did to you." In her most polished Azurian, she added, "As you can see, today my people have been dealt the worst betrayal imaginable."

Speaking these words out loud to an outsider hurt more than she had anticipated.

Whilst she struggled against seething disappointment and grief, Jaden Nightvale stared down at Imxi from the four or so inches he had on her. Now that his mage friend had healed him with the very power Imxi had conspired to steal from them, Jaden looked healthy again. Perhaps tired and wary – but who here wasn't? And he was rather handsome, she noted, as he pushed messy wind-blown hair back from his young face. He couldn't be much older than twenty.