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Caeden stared up at the ceiling and was filled with regret.
I shouldn't have done this, he thought, far too late. He rolled onto his side to look at Alaris. His old friend was breathing heavily in the aftermath of their passion, his eyes closed, the hint of a smile on his familiar, handsome face.
Caeden had to admit that it had felt good. Falling into Asar’s old bed with Alaris, forgetting for a moment everything between them and how the fate of the world outside rested on what happened here in Mor Aruil. They were simply two people making love, like they had once in the days before everything went wrong. Unfortunately that was a foolish fantasy, one that could ruin everything.
“Alaris,” he whispered.
Alaris opened his eyes. “Yes, Tal?”
“Please,” he begged, “Take the amulet.”
Alaris’s smile vanished in an instant. “No,” he hissed, “I will not let you have the easy path out.”
Caeden pushed himself up to a sitting position, doing his best to not shed any tears. “Why do you want to die so badly?”
“I do not wish for death, Tal’kamar. But I refuse to live in a world where all are prisoners yet none believe they are. No one left to fight to free us, all because of you.”
He knew it was futile. He’d tried enough times to know that changing Alaris’s mind was an impossible task. Still, he took Alaris’s hand in his and finally let the tears fall.
“Believe me, please. It’s all a lie. It was never El, always Shammaeloth. Did you truly believe El could order me to do everything I had done as Aarkein Devaed?”
“I didn’t, at first.” Alaris’s voice was soft, but became harder as he continued. “But I know now that was in service of a greater goal. Bad things happen in this world, Tal, because it’s broken and El couldn’t fix it without our help. If we had to do ugly things sometimes, it wouldn’t matter because it would all be undone.”
“You can’t believe that.”
Alaris met his eyes. “It is not too late. You say El is coming—“
“Shammaeloth.”
“—and he will restore it all. I know…” his voice faltered a little, “I know you killed the others. But we can make it right! Gass, Diara, all of them! El can fix everything. What of Elliavia? What of your friend Davian? Don't you want to save them?”
Caeden turned away from him. Took a shaky breath. Then swung his legs over the side of the bed, catching sight of Licanius on the floor, next to clothing that had been hurriedly stripped off.
Caeden stood, walked over and picked the sword up.
“Tal?” Alaris said. Caeden didn’t answer. He turned around, and Alaris could see the tears streaming down his face.
“You can’t do this, Tal.”
“I’m sorry,” Caeden whispered. It would have been so much easier if he hadn’t delayed – if he’d appeared, killed Alaris, then exited without looking back. Though perhaps it would hurt just the same, because there was no universe in which murdering Alaris could be simple for him. But what happened – their last time – was just twisting the knife.
Caeden pulled Alaris close for one final kiss – then as their lips broke apart, he plunged Licanius into his chest, the blade sliding smoothly between his ribs. Alaris didn’t struggle, not like Gassandrid had. No, his body slumped against Caeden’s, who held him tight. Refusing to let go until his body stilled entirely.
Caeden let out a final broken sob as he laid Alaris’s body down on the bed. Gently, he shut his old love’s eyes, pulled the sheets over the wound in his chest. He lingered there for far too long, just staring blankly at the still corpse.
Then he heaved himself to his feet and prepared to leave. It wasn’t over, not yet. But soon…
Soon, he could end it all.