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The tip of the blade pins Changbin to the floor of the arena. Felix had easily feinted left and caught him off guard. Even without the magic Changbin swore he relied on, Felix had taken him down. The duel had been going on for almost twenty minutes prior to this point, a head-to-head standstill watched over by the rest of the training guards. Everyone knew pairing the two up was adding fuel to a never-ending fire. Changbin hated Felix. The two fought like dogs at every given moment. In line for food they would bicker over who got there first. In the arena, they would fight over who was better with the sword, the rapier, the lance, anything they could get their hands on to stab each other with. Even the newest training guards knew not to come between them on the field. Rumors flew about how Felix had once singed Changbin’s hair during a proper fight, a stray fireball barely grazing Changbin’s head before they had been stopped by their training officer.
Kindly enough, Felix helps Changbin stand up before brushing off the dust and putting his sword away. Changbin just glares at him, the anger in his chest lighting anew at the freckled face adorned with a gloating smile. Felix Lee Yongbok, the man he is, gives a slight bow before turning away. He can vaguely hear Changbin growl something about an unfair advantage and a rematch but he has already reached the exit gates, fully ready to wash off the day and get some quality sleep before the weekend’s events. Everyone in town would come to the king’s arena and watch as the trainees dueled each other in weaponry and magic combat in a two-day long tournament. The top five contenders would be given the privilege of fighting under the king’s guard, an honor reserved only for the best. For Felix, it just meant a one-way ticket out of the stable he slept in. Felix heard the royal guard lived in luxury, endless running water, a queen-sized bed, and lavish meals every night. Better than the luxury of some bread and cheese given by the old couple that pitied him enough to let him stay. Better than the small quantities he could afford with his weekly allowance from the training program.
Felix rests his head on the straw bed he’s made for himself and looks up at the stars through the splintered hole in the roof. He wonders if his ma is watching him up there, cheering him on. He wonders if his dad is proud of him. He wonders what his life would be like if he still had them to lean on. He wonders and he wonders and he cries, letting the tears soak his face as he watches the stars and the clouds pass him by. Maybe in another universe, his parents wipe his tears instead of his hands. Felix lets himself wallow in his pity until the moon rises directly overhead and he forces himself up and out. As he passes, he watches the cows low and chew the grass. The trees blow in the wind and he hurries over the single-plank bridge he created. Once he reaches the clearing where the trees threaten to swallow him whole, he falls to his knees. He whispers every blessing he can think of, then pulls the paper from his pocket and reads. The two skulls stare holes into the top of his head where it is pressed against the headstone.
With his incantation mumbled in the earth, Felix lifts his head to watch. He drags his finger over the hidden blade in the edge of his sleeve. The pain briefly shoots through him but the magic soon overtakes it. It courses through his veins, pulling at his life source. The drops from his finger stain the grass but where they fall soon blooms anew. Felix wills everything in his body to let the magic flow. He watches carefully as the blood drips on his mother’s skin. It glows in the night. He waits, reciting the incantation again, this time from memory. The words are foreign on his tongue, an old language rarely spoken anymore. Felix waits.
And waits.
And prays.
Once the night sky begins to lighten and his chest begins to feel heavier, Felix cries. He screams. He knows no one will come looking, too far in the middle of nowhere for him to worry. Sometimes he wishes someone would. Just so he’d be locked up and hung. Just so he could see them again. He wipes his tears and his blood from the headstones, but leaves it on their bodies. He can’t bring himself to touch them, knowing they’d be cold. He kisses their graves before he returns to the barn, trying to sleep even the littlest bit before tomorrow's festivities.
In the middle of the forest, surrounded by daffodils, marigolds and morning star lilies, two corpses lie, refusing to rot.
****
When Changbin wakes up the next morning, it is to loud noises and the smell of campfire. He crawls out of bed and rinses his face in the washbasin. The sun peeks through his curtains making him grimace as he changes his shirt. As he moves into the main room, Changbin’s heart shrivels in his chest. His father sits at the head of the table, grumbling into a bowl of soup. Eggshells instantly scatter across the floor. Changbin tenses up, every bone in his body on edge, ready to fight.
“What are you doing here?” Changbin tries to conceal the knot in his throat. He feels like a live wire, no nerve in his body not on fire. He doesn’t remember a time when his father didn’t cause such a reaction.
“Came to watch the fight.” Of course he did. It would only be Changbin’s luck that his father decides to show up the same year as when Changbin is locked into a never-ending rivalry with the best mage in the whole kingdom. “I’m so excited to have my son at the side of the king. We could live in luxury!”
His father stares him down, a promise in his eyes. Changbin has to win. He doesn’t have a choice. Changbin knows he has a chance. He has beaten Felix in a fight before, granted it was a sword duel with no magic and it was three months ago. Felix is superior when it comes to magic but it’s not impossible to beat him. If Changbin can catch him off guard and get a good cut in with his dagger, he may come out on top. He doesn’t even want to think about losing.
Changbin prepares himself for the day, skirting around his father like he has his entire life. He prepares his armor, washes his knives, and collects the spell pages he’s been studying. He carefully attaches them into his book, sliding it into the carrier on his hip. He also fills his bottles with various magical liquids. Purified water for spells and an arrangement of potions. It only took light bribing for Hyunjin to brew them for him. The alchemist had only accepted on the basis that Changbin would clean up the shop and collect more ingredients for him. Changbin had already delivered a plethora of herbs from his garden alongside salamander scales he had used his last couple coins to buy in the market. Hyunjin had given him multiple large jars filled with healing and protection elixirs. The smaller jars held mixtures for infernos and traps. He hopes it's enough.
When he enters the trainee’s quarters, he avoids the eyes of his peers. One of the boys that Changbin had taken a friendly affection to, Jason, tries to engage him in conversation but Changbin brushes him off quickly. Instead, he opens his spell book and repeats his incantations, engraving them into his memory. He knows his father is watching. He knows he can’t lose this battle. He watches Felix prance around, a smile on his face, teasing another trainee. The anger boils in Changbin’s chest, its ugly head rearing. The blonde gloats his confidence and sets Changbin off to spiral in his head. He tries not to let it get to him but every bone in his body is warning him what happens if he loses. Changbin can barely breathe.
He watches the other fights with little interest. He respects the other trainees, but they couldn’t match up to Changbin’s skill level physically. Younger guys tended to put their all into learning the magic aspect, as it's incredibly hard to perfect. That meant that they often sidelined the actual fighting, much to their trainer’s chagrin. Changbin hadn’t though. He had grown up in a tough environment and took the first opportunity to bulk up and learn to hold his own. He perfected his own fighting style, rough and sharp around the edges. He even outdid Felix in the physical aspect. Felix’s fight style was more elegant and sweeping, giving to his slimmer build, the perfect contrast. Often, when the two paired up, they’d be stuck in contact for hours going back and forth as one just barely got an edge before the other would take the point back. Changbin’s fierce stabs countered by a light feint while Felix’s rapier would cut through the air as Changbin dashed away. He knows tonight will be their last dance, a final duel to decide both of their fates.
*************
When the herald announces his name, Felix just smiles and carefully takes his position in the center of the arena. He smiles to the heavens, kissing his palm for luck. He hopes he can make his parents proud. He hopes they’re watching, believing in him. He’s confident enough to ignore the nerves in his gut but he can’t help but still feel unprepared after all these years. Felix had joined the training late, parents having just passed and leaving just a sixteen year old boy with all his hopes and dreams crushed.
He had gotten taken under the wing of a boy named Chan, who had connected with him on a rainy day over lost parents and missing home. The older had taught him how to fight properly and helped Felix hone his magic. Without his parents, the thread that had tied him together had unraveled. Felix didn’t think he would ever be able to practice magic again, not without his ma’s watchful eyes and careful hands guiding him. Somehow, Chan had made him feel like home again and Felix was able to tap back into his ability. They had spent hours in candlelight, handwriting hundreds of spells and binding them together with easy banter and thick twine. Chan had taken care of him simply because he could and Felix was forever grateful for him. When Chan got promoted to royal guard and eventually sent out of the kingdom to another, Felix cried like a baby for weeks. He visited his parents a lot during those days, looking for something, maybe love, maybe hope, maybe just the sweet release of death. He missed Chan with every bone in his body and he missed his parents even more. Maybe that’s the reason he was vying for the win so much. Not just to live a better life, but to prove himself to everyone he lost, that helped him get here.
He watches Changbin slowly approach, a multitude of daggers strapped to his chest. Felix tries not to stare and let his nerves work up. He opts instead to take everything to memory to better understand this fight. Changbin’s using knives, as expected, likely dipped in some concoction if the stain on his shirt is telling. His spell book is thick in its carrier at his side, with red strips marking sections out the top. There’s another knife near his book, information Felix files in his mind. If he knocks the weapons free from Changbin’s hands while he’s down, he’ll still have extras readily available. Changbin’s hand is rough where it grips the blade, his fingers strong and thick. Felix memorizes the way his shoulders are hunched, ready for attack, the vastness of them making Felix feel almost unprepared for a physical fight. He hones onto Changbin’s biceps, only to help understand his opponent more, thinking about the way the muscle clenches and could easily take his breath from his lungs. Felix hopes it doesn’t come down to that. He hopes his magic is enough to stave off the man before him. He must do his best, take him down and ascend.
Changbin bows sharply before the herald begins the fight, a sign of respect between the two mages flickers. Felix reciprocates easily and then they’re off. They circle each other like predators, waiting for an instant to catch the other off guard. Felix’s sword keeps the distance between them, only faltering when Changbin swipes at it. It takes almost two whole minutes before Changbin engages. He tosses a bottle that Felix dodges easily. The glass shatters against the floor and green vapor rises from the ground around it. It has Felix’s attention just long enough that Changbin approaches, knocking the sword from his hands with practiced moves. Felix instantly fixes his attention back on the fight, avoiding the poison as he flits away gracefully from Changbin’s strike. The dagger stabs the air Felix had just been occupying, throwing Changbin slightly off balance so that he has to shift around. Felix takes the moment to pull out his spell book and flip to the first tabbed page. He forces himself not to think about Chan’s messy scribbles and recites the spell.
Seething flames shot up from the earth around Changbin, catching his pant leg and tearing the cloth. Changbin flinches, dropping his weapon and quickly flicks water on the flames with words on his tongue and it goes out instantly. He rips a page from his book and crumples it in his fist. Felix watches as the paper transforms and a shard of ice slices through the air towards him. He dodges as Changbin launches one after another while Felix runs an arc around him, creating a path of vines in his wake. They claw through the ground, ensnaring the elder’s leg tightly. He redirects the ice spike to tear it off and lobs another bottle to the ground. As it explodes, the vines die off in a blue flame. Felix ends up behind Changbin and the next page torn has a bolt of magic tearing through the arena. It’s almost impossible to hone in on and Changbin isn’t even looking, focused on the dying vines around him as he fights them off. The audience around them holds their breath, bracing for impact. Felix swears he hears the cheers of his parents.
*************************
It’s almost too late when he realizes he’s been looking away for too long. Almost. He sees Felix’s lips move quickly and the next instant, the air changes. Changbin rips a dagger from his harness, one that he had spent hours carving into, and flicks it into the air sharply. It whistles through the sky, hitting Felix’s bolt head on, exploding in a firework of sparks and ashes. They rain down on the two as Changbin whips around to counter. He lunges forward, attempting to take the offense. He doesn’t notice the glint in Felix’s hand nor the missing dagger from the floor until the familiar clash of metal on metal rings throughout the arena. The two daggers push and pull, forward and back, as each opponent wells their strength. Changbin uses the leverage to swipe at Felix’s side with a second blade, barely connecting as he twists away. The hiss Felix lets out is overtaken by the force with which he pushes back, both hands now driving his blade closer to Changbin’s neck. There’s a brief moment when everything goes silent as the two stay interlocked and unmoving. Their heavy breaths clash as everything in Changbin fights back. He realizes his plan of strength isn’t working in his favor at the moment as Felix is barely budging so he reassesses. He uses his opposite hand to reach for the potion at his back and when it shatters at their feet, both men jump apart, acid eating at the ground in front of them. Felix looks properly determined and clutches his side as he catches his breath. Another spell rolls off both of their tongues and more magic clashes in the air between them. Wind whips around the two, stirring up the dirt and clouding their vision. Felix disappears from Changbin’s sight as a particularly harsh wind surges through.
When Felix reappears, it is behind Changbin, elegant form a shadow of death. The blood dripping from his nose seems to fuel the magic in his veins. Changbin doesn’t see it coming. He whips around as he hears the wind scream, seeing Felix’s eyes, dark in the wind. It almost goes in slow motion, Felix’s approach. His strides seem to slow down as Changbin blinks hard to try and clear his vision. Felix’s lips move quickly and Changbin realizes what happens before it does. Magic crashes through his skull, a throbbing pain echoing, hundreds of thousands of whispers tearing through him. He staggers, the monumental task of staying upright challenging him. Changbin can’t see anything anymore, just white hot behind his eyes. He doesn’t know what this magic is. He’s never seen it before in all his studies but it feels ancient and cold in the way it rips him apart. He knew Felix was foreign, coming here long after Changbin was already training, but did other places really have this strength of magic? And why didn’t Felix use it earlier, when the odds had been stacked against him? Changbin can barely think, the magic pulls at his brain and saps all the strength from his bones. When his vision returns, he’s collapsed on his back, the sharp point of a rapier pointed to his throat. Felix must have picked it back up in the chaos. Changbin can’t move, his body weighed down by a thousand voices.
Felix’s chin is raised, looking down his nose at Changbin. The look in his eyes is far away but Changbin can’t do anything to fight back. Digging the point of the blade lightly deeper into the skin of Changbin’s neck, Felix whispers, “Point.”
The dust around them settles. The crowd gasps dramatically at the scene in front of them. Then, they erupt into cheers, screaming and chanting Felix’s name. For a moment, neither of the men react, panting heavy breaths into the air. Then the spirit reenters Felix’s eyes and Changbin feels his heart crush itself under the weight of all the spectators. The hundreds in the crowd and the thousands that had overtaken his brain for the final dire seconds of the battle. He knows he’s lost and it hits him hard when Felix offers a hand to help him up. A mirror of the previous day, though Felix looks much less smug and Changbin just feels emptiness instead of rage.
It’s a shameful walk back to the trainee’s quarters, the sounds of applause weighing him down. He cleans off his blades and washes his hands with a blank stare. Practiced motions that he only does out of habit, not because he truly wants to. He doesn’t look at himself in the dusty mirror or acknowledges any of the others who stare at him with interest. They knew he would lose. Their eyes bore into Changbin’s soul, closing his throat and clenching his jaw. None of them believed in him. None of them cared. They all were waiting like wolves to prey on his weakness. And they had seen him fall, the mighty toppling to the floor.
Changbin drags his feet on the walk home. He barely thinks, his brain and body numb. It’s as if the thousands of whispers had taken all his thoughts with them and Changbin is now left with a shell of a body. The roads are quiet, no one has left the raging chaos in the arena but him. An old lady down the street from him works at her garden, the scent of fresh herbs filling the air but Changbin can’t bring himself to enjoy the scent. He can only hang his head and continue on.
The gate is left open and the door looms ominous on its hinges. Changbin has half a mind to turn around right now and go drown himself in liquor and tears in a pub but he knows it would only postpone the inevitable. He slowly pushes the door open, the outside sun lighting up the dark interior. His father stands in the kitchen, slowly cutting the skin from an apple. He doesn’t acknowledge Changbin, which would be perfectly fine on any other day. But he can see it in his posture. Changbin doesn’t know how but the old man knows. He can barely breathe and it feels like the world has stopped spinning as Changbin shuts the door quietly and stands straight against it.
He can sense it before the magic cuts through his chest. A darkness begins to eat away at his insides. He tries his best not to react, feeling it curl around his bones and weigh him down, but his face can’t hide the pain. His father isn’t even looking at him, still peeling away but Changbin knows he’s watching. A small flick of a finger is the only warning received before another wave of ebony is collapsing his chest in. Black tendrils pull at his organs and Changbin can no longer hide it. He can’t breathe or see and he falls to his knees harshly.
Changbin should have known. He wanted to believe his father wouldn’t. That he could take this loss and make it up into something better. But he wouldn’t even be given the chance. His father didn’t work like that. He got what he wanted, always, and when he didn’t, he took what he needed. Changbin was only a pawn in his game and now that Changbin had failed, he was expendable. Maybe his father would siphon his blood and sell it in the dark to the highest bidder. Life was such a little price to pay for the power that could come from using another’s blood, even more from consuming it. Or maybe his father wanted it for himself. Maybe that’s why he had trained Changbin so well, so hard. Pushed him to his absolute limits to create the strongest mage and when that had failed, he could use the power himself to strengthen his own magic. Changbin should’ve seen it coming. All the hours spent pouring over tomes larger than his skull were never to help him advance in life, only to help his father. All the harsh punishments that Changbin had wanted to think were hardening him for battle were only focused on preserving the strong magic in his blood. He should have known but the young boy inside him that still wanted his father to care for him, to love him, had blinded him from the truth. Even his mother had tried to warn him, “Don’t upset him, Changbin-ah” and “Do it for your family, son” had never been encouragement but Changbin just wanted to believe everything would be okay. And when he started honing his skills, she began to only look at him with disgust even when she pretended to care.
Changbin can feel it taking over him. The dark tendrils crawl up his throat and squeeze around his brain. They grip every one of his bones in tight holds, making his body stiffen and lay flat across the floor. The realization of his death lets him see the craziness in his father’s eyes, power-hungry and ravenous. He stalks closer and Changbin fights with everything in him but all his fight has been drained out of him. The amount of magic that has gone into his body in the past two hours is enough to kill a weaker mage. Changbin is only holding on by threads. But he knows that’s what he was trained to do. Trained to lay like a lamb while the wolf cuts him apart. The paring knife in his fathers hand looks sharper where Changbin’s vision has tunneled. He feels already apart from his body as the blade swipes easily down his forearm. The blood that begins to ooze out is dark and tainted and Changbin can only watch as his father, the one who is supposed to protect him and watch over him, touches his fingers to the wound and then brings them to his lips. The air in the room shifts, something more sinister flowing through. His father’s eyes have gone black and Changbin can only hope someone nearby can sense the magic, dark and disturbed, and call for help. He hopes that his father won’t flee before authorities arrive and that maybe he can still be saved. He knows it’s impossible.
Right as the room starts to shift away and the void begins to encompass him, Changbin hears clattering and the darkness in the room seems to shift to something more hopeful. But he fears it can’t be enough, as his mind finally succumbs to the pressure gripping his skull.
******
Felix forgets to ring the bell on the gate, drawn in by the looming darkness he can feel surrounding the house. He’s normally not one to sneak around and eavesdrop but he can’t help himself from crouching in the bushes and peering through the window. The sight he sees makes him nauseous.
He had only come to check on Changbin. His magic had gotten out of control in the battle. The magic in his veins had responded to the blood that came from his nose and it all had clashed into a dangerous combination. He worried that Changbin’s mind hadn’t taken it well. The other had rushed off quickly after the battle, Felix hadn’t had the time to see him as he was swept up in the winner’s ceremony. He had tried to pry himself away from the crowd but it had been no use. He had to wait until everyone settled before he made a quick excuse and bolted out of the arena. Changbin, at the very least, would at least have a terrible headache. At worst, he would have gone completely mad, the blood magic tainting his brain. Felix had expected danger but nothing of this caliber.
He recognized Changbin’s cowering figure. The darkness seems to be radiating straight from his heart, crushing his body with its power. Another man, one Felix doesn’t recognize, is standing over him, with dark eyes and blood on his fingers. Felix can’t believe his eyes. He knew the horrors of why this type of magic was strictly forbidden, the secret stories that he had heard in the dark nights of training. He knew his magic wasn’t something to play with, his father had whispered fable after fable into his ear by the fire. Felix hadn’t expected to see the monsters he had only dreamt of.
He moves into action before he can even think too hard about it. Changbin may have been a rival, but he didn’t deserve to be ravaged like a lamb. He slices his hand on the blade in his sleeve, quickly moving to the door. He doesn’t even look, the rage in his soul fueling the decision, as he rips a page from his spell book. The blood welling on his skin is enough to stick the page to the door where he slams it. Instantly, a silence falls over the house, a weighted blanket bleeding every sound out. The door falls open and Felix stalks inside, his heart racing.
When he reaches Changbin and the man hovering over him, he takes a moment to collect himself. He can’t hurt Changbin. The lifeline Felix can feel seeping out of Changbin is fragile at best. More magic would only rip him apart like a doll. Felix focuses on getting the man away before he attacks. The whites of the man’s eyes are gone, replaced by an eerie void that threatens to devour everything it looks upon. He stares at Felix and cocks his head, reminiscent of a bird taunting its prey. Felix can feel the magic that is propping the man up, puppeteering his limbs as he stands clumsily.
Felix backs away slowly, letting his magic pull the power hungry mage towards him. His insatiable eyes seem to grab at Felix’s soul, making his chest ache with an intensity unmatched by his grief. Felix waits for the perfect moment to strike. The mage has crossed the room, away from the unconscious Changbin, and Felix puts himself in between the two. He tears a page, a flimsy tab the only indication that he has chosen the spell intended. The blood on his skin is still fresh as he coats the paper and the spark pulsates throughout the room. The magic is suffocating, more darkness, more hunger. Felix watches, tense, as the man screams, jerking violently on his feet. Blood seeps out of his eyes, his nose, his mouth as the blood inside him boils.
He lasts ten seconds. Then the house is quiet again and like a puppet whose strings have been cut, Felix falls as well. He feels drained, empty, devoid of his spark but he knows the job is not done. He can sense the quiet life force behind him, faint but present. Felix digs through his pockets to find the herbs he had bought for his parents alongside some cheap incense and a vial of medicine. The shopkeeper told him it was a pain-reliever, one that would ease the tension in Felix’s lower back from the fight. It will suffice.
Felix pulls Changbin’s shirt off, focusing on the black marks under his skin. The magic is devouring him and Felix has to act quickly. He pulls at the nearly empty pool of magic within him, cutting both his palms before laying them flat on Changbin’s chest. He uses one hand to draw sigils on the skin and with the other, he procures a flame to light the incense, running it across the body. He was never particularly good at healing but his father was a competent sage and had left behind that flicker of light in Felix’s blood.
The incantations are met with resistance at first, a dark wall pushing down, threatening to collapse the whole house around the two men. Felix works through it, the sigils lighting and disappearing into the air as he scrawls them in his own blood. The brief flame lights the room and slowly, the veil suffocating him begins to lift. The darkness still creeps near but it no longer peers over his shoulder. Changbin’s skin fades from a sickly grey with black spots back to its original tan, wounds closing slowly, and Felix watches the worst of it go. He lifts the limp head and pours the contents of whatever remedy he was given down Changbin’s throat, hoping it will help with the immediate pain when he wakes. He wipes the mess of blood on Changbin’s chest with his shirt and waits quietly. But he can hear the horses clattering down the drive, orders shouted into the air as the dark cloud crashes down upon the cottage. Felix just hopes Changbin doesn’t wake to see him hung.
***************
Changbin doesn’t get his quiet awakening to the freckled mage. He wakes to yells and an overwhelming feeling of sickness in his bones. He barely opens his eyes before he’s turning to the side and retching black bile onto the stone floor of his home. He feels as if the life has been sucked out of him and from what he remembers, it was. He remembers the dark eyes and cruel tension taking him away from the world. But when he looks to his right, he only sees the father he had looked up to when he was a child, body skewed on the floor, lifeless.
There’s a guard, a king's guard, trying to tell him something but Changbin can’t hear over the ringing in his ears. But the second he sees the boy being put in chains, Changbin forces his body to get up, move closer, do anything. Felix’s name dies in his throat as he coughs up more dark bile and keels over again. There’s blood everywhere but something inside Changbin knows. Felix, his rival, his enemy, the reason he was dying in the first place, had saved him. The blood on the floor, the blood sticking to his skin, was Felix’s, shed for light and hope, not darkness. Changbin tries to shout in sorrow as they drag Felix away and their eyes don’t meet even though Changbin has his trained on the younger mage. His mouth cannot speak his thoughts and it almost feels louder than the whispers that had eaten his mind.
*************
The cell is cold where Felix lays. His body aches against the stone floor as the hours pass. The silence is only relieved by the clattering of the tray bringing him his next meal. He eats the bread slowly, relishing in each bite. The hunger was an old friend, one he had met long ago but briefly forgotten. It wasn’t quite the same. Before, it had felt like a punishment, eternal anguish for not protecting his family, hot and searing as it burned his chest. Now, the hunger just felt cold. Cold and just as empty as the crevice in his heart.
They had chained his hands apart from each other and replaced his old clothes with new ones. Portrayed as an act of kindness but really just to confiscate the blades sewn in the hems. Not that Felix had anything to cast anyways. The well in his soul had been emptied and everything felt barren as he grasped for something to comfort him. He wouldn’t even try to escape. This was his destiny. His parents had tried to warn him with dark secrets and scary stories. Blood magic wasn't something to be played with. He was dangerous and one day someone would find out. It didn’t matter that he had never used it to hurt anyone, even when he accidentally conjured it during his duel, he had drawn it back as much as possible to spare Changbin as much pain as possible. It wasn’t Felix’s fault, he knew that. It was just how the world works. A wolf is born a wolf and you can’t condemn the farmer for killing it for coming out of the woods, even if it hadn’t attacked.
It’s somewhere around a day before Felix is guided out, judging by the sunlight that came and went through the small cell window. He’s led by a bar attached to his chains, pulling him faster than he can keep up. He trips over himself and is barely spared an angry glance before being pulled up by a strong hand on his shoulder. The guard’s voice is rough as he curses and Felix can’t help but shrink in on himself.
He’s led to the throne room, where the king looks down on him from his pedestal. Sharp eyes bore into his soul. Felix averts his eyes, which is the wrong move because the only place else to look is out the large windows into the courtyard. He physically recoils as he sees the looming shape of the gallows. He sends a prayer up to his parents, telling them they don’t have to watch this part, that he will see them soon. He can’t help the tears that well up in his eyes.
The king seems to just watch him for a long time before clearing his throat and speaking. “Lee Felix, the act that you have committed is unjustifiable. You impressed me with your skills in the field but have disappointed me in your life. Your use of forbidden magic brings demons we mortals cannot begin to comprehend. I cannot have such a danger allowed anywhere near my people. This magic is our enemy and so you are considered a traitor of my kingdom and we must deal with you accordingly.”
Felix closes his eyes, resigned to his fate. He cannot change this, these wheels have been turning much longer than he can understand. It’s with a heavy heart and a solemn expression, he is led outside, forwards, towards the thing he has longed for since his family was ripped away from him. Towards everything he promised them not to do. Towards certainty and finality.
He stands on the edge as they hoist the rope. He breathes deeply and wills himself not to cry.
This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? To see his parents again was all he ever dreamed of. He had wanted to be found, to be captured, just to get him closer to his inevitable fate. But he can’t help himself from feeling the warm hope that spreads through his body as the gate to the courtyard is thrown open. A boy dressed in royal blue and carrying a letter runs through the grass before bowing quickly at the feet of the king, breathless.
The king halts the guard that is guiding Felix forward on the platform with a simple hand motion. He takes the letter and reads through it carefully. The air suffocates Felix where he stands, an evil desperation and desire spreading through his body as he begins to believe in the future. The king reads the message multiple times, glancing up at Felix occasionally. When he sends the messenger off, Felix holds his breath.
“Bring him back down here.” Felix stumbles back down the stairs and kneels with his head bowed low. He prays for a miracle. “This letter has been written by someone who truly believes you are not a danger. That everything you stand for is not heretical in nature. That you deserve to be spared. They beg me not to kill you, accounting to the fact that you protected them. It weaves a terrible story about a father drunk on power and a young mage not strong enough to fight back. And it tells of you stepping in and clearing the darkness from his veins. That you, with your tainted soul, had taken on someone reaching to be a god and won. Now I must say, I’m not sure if I truly believe this story, it is awfully convenient for you to have been there at the perfect time to save the poor boy. Were you, Lee Felix, able to fight against a mortal turning into a god and win without corrupting yours or the boy’s soul?”
The question feels like a gun to his head, a roulette with a chance at survival. But Felix knows every barrel is loaded. Knows there’s no situation where he leaves this palace and returns to his normal life, let alone to the position that he won. Still, he owes it to Changbin, to his parents, to everyone, to fight for his survival now that he has been given the chance. He tells the truth, affirms the claims, and clarifies when questions are asked. He tells the king about his parents, the bloodline of magic and its cursed roots. He tells him about Changbin, how they had fought and trained side-by-side but opposite, always pouncing on the other’s weaknesses. How they had fought and his magic had briefly gotten the best of him but he had tamped it down and let it consume him instead of Changbin. He explains the look he had seen in the eyes of the man he had killed and the suffocating veil he had broken around the house. By the end, the sky is turning orange and pink and Felix feels truly drained. Empty of everything but this time, in the way of a weight off his chest.
The king again studies him, but his eyes are more compassionate. He looks less like a king and more like a grandfather who had to scold his grandchild even when he didn’t want to. It made Felix feel safer and more content with whatever was going to be decided. He tries not to let the hope consume him but it is all he can think about as the minutes pass in silence.
Finally, the king nods understandingly. “I cannot permit you to stay in my kingdom. The crime you have committed is much more than just a self-defense killing. Even though I believe your word and see that you are simple and kind, it would be irresponsible of me to allow you to stay here. However, I will not have you hung. You do not deserve the fate that has been given to you. I shall see to it that you are escorted out of my kingdom, away from our borders and given adequate supplies to move forward in your journey. If you choose to return, I will have no choice but to protect my people, I’m sure you understand. However, you, Lee Felix, deserve to live.”