Forbidden: Tormented

Chapter Twelve

For centuries, he tormented the demon at his feet. Even though he wanted the younger of the two. Blood was blood. And as long as one of them paid, he would have his revenge. Taking Valafar life in front of Andras was simply a bonus. Let him experience the helplessness. The agony of losing a loved one. Then he would kill the kid.

A millennium of whispering to Valafar, feeding him his own blood-lust. Pushing his own visions of revenge into the head of a demon who had done nothing to him. The things they did, no, he did...

Tiamet. Where was she? If Andras didn't kill her, then why did she never come to him? They loved each other. She wouldn't have stayed away.

But Andras didn't lie. Couldn't. Not once his oath was given.

"What was the last thing you remember before you saw that?"

Urian met Andras's eyes before holding up the knife in his hand. "This. I got this as a gift."

"A gift? From who?"

Urian looked down into angry silver ones. Silver. Because of him. "Nybbas."

"Urian, let me go." Valafar growled. He heard Andras mutter a curse at the hated name. "And get your hand off me before I rip off your arm and beat you to death with it."

"I can still end you." Urian said, but even to himself, his voice lacked conviction.

"You can try." Valafar took the hope that flared bright and added it to his strength. Using it, he rose to his feet.

Urian's eyes widened and for the first time, he felt a thread of fear. But knowing now what he did, he couldn't follow through on his threat. How could he? Not after what he did. Stepping away from the demon, he whispered the words to reverse the curse. Words he thought to never use.

Valafar staggered at the pain of the removal while Andras moved to his side. The younger brother slid beneath Valafar's arm, taking some of his weight.

"Gone." Valafar whispered, shock lacing his words. "They are gone."

"I know, my brother. I know." Andras knew that demons didn't cry, but did nothing to stop the tears on his face. Valafar, his brother, his hero, was free.

Urian turned from the brothers. If they wanted him dead, there was nothing he would do to stop them. It would be far less than what he deserved. "Tiamet," he whispered. He again witnessed her dying moments. The accusation in her eyes. His failure to save her. The lie of that memory.

"So quiet." Valafar whispered. Was he finally losing it? No, this was how it was supposed to be. The silence that Eloa brought to him. This was it.

Calm.

No companions.

No visions.

Peace.

"Valafar, let's get out of here." Andras said, weariness in his sigh.

"Wait." Valafar couldn't go yet. One more thing to say. "Urian."

The puppet master turned and Valafar could relate to the pain in his eyes.

"Not today. Not tomorrow, but one day, when I can look at you and not want to tear you apart slowly, I will help you find her. I can understand. I know love and loss. The fear for the one holding your heart."

Urian wouldn't insult Valafar further by apologizing for his actions. No mere words could make up for what he did. One brief nod was all he could do before leaving them alone.

"Take me home, Andras, please? I can't think to do it." He kept probing the corners of his mind. The silence was deafening after so many years of constant screaming.