Armande looked at his Vale with tenderness. He felt protective of her. What she had seen had rocked her to her core, her hand gripping his fiercely. Tears streamed from just one of her eyes. It seemed like something was wrong with the other. It was the same eye that Rowen has lost. Only more confirmation. They were connected.
Gently he wiped away the tears from her cheek, kissed her hand and pulled her to him in an embrace, the scent of her and her hair, the feel of her against him, a comfort. "You are the strongest person I know, my love, he said quietly. "We will both do what must be done to protect this world from evil." He released her though not without tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as he looked down out her. Lovely. So very lovely.
His gaze turned to Rowen, smile remaining. He was at peace. For most of his life, the weight of the world lay heavy on his broad shoulders, a mountain of duty and obligation. That mountain had grown heavier as the years ground by. The Chong Rann gave him some sense of clarity and relief. But the mountain always remained.
But together, these two had somehow given him the key. He saw the end clearly, now.
Once before, he had railed at God or fate or whatever force was in charge, refusing to be a tool. Apollyon had been hurt but not killed, Armande's actions only increasing the man's influence and power. Rage had filled him, fury at having been made a fool, at increasing the river of prestige and adulation that flowed toward him. And yet, only later did things become clearer. The Revelator, John of Patmos, had explained.
One of the beast's heads appeared to have sustained a mortal wound, but its fatal wound was healed. Filled with adoration, the whole world followed the beast.
Now, once again, clarity had come to him, this time from the lips of these women. The endgame. His destiny. And it was enough. Serenity suffused him, peace and acceptance at his fate. Something was in control. The fight would continue. Humanity would be saved.
He answered Rowan. "What it is....I do not know. And whether it means actual destruction, I do not know." His look hardened, though not at her. "But you do see the danger." He looked at Vale again. "The power of the gods is a tool. But its power corrupts...."
Despite the feeling of peace, pain stabbed his heart. His voice dropped to a whisper as he looked at Valeriya, looked through her. "Anyone can fall to it. Anyone..." His breath was slow as he tried to remain calm, to keep from letting the feelings overwhelm him. It wasn't Vale's eyes he was seeing now. It was another pair of green eyes. Carefully- so very carefully- he let it out of its cage. Quietly. "My own daughter...many years ago..." His eyes focused on her. "The power of the gods touched her, consumed her soul, left a demon its place. A changeling spawn that I had to..."
He trailed off, shuddering, not willing to say the words, the feel of the resistance to his sword, to the hot wet spurting on his hand, to the cry of the thing that still wore Lissandra's face, that still pleaded with him in her voice, the power it held over him, even now, more than 20 years later, to tear at his heart, that held him in its thrall, bound by its own perverse magic.
He closed his eyes, trying to escape the images, hoping to find the serenity he had felt just moments before., peace at the knowledge of his end, his death. He saw himself and Brandon within the cage, burning to death together, felt the flames lick about him, each cool and comforting, a respite from the unending fires in his mind, from the endless torments of his past. Each moment burning in those flames a purgatory, cleansing him, scouring him, bringing the bliss of eternal destruction, the nirvana of non-existence. Freedom from those eyes. An end to it all, his destiny fulfilled.
Duty was a mountain. Death was lighter than a feather. And a welcome friend. Deserved.
One day. In the future. He still had his work to do. And for now, Rowan was necessary. For now. But she would not escape her destiny either, even if it did not come at his hand.
Gently he wiped away the tears from her cheek, kissed her hand and pulled her to him in an embrace, the scent of her and her hair, the feel of her against him, a comfort. "You are the strongest person I know, my love, he said quietly. "We will both do what must be done to protect this world from evil." He released her though not without tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as he looked down out her. Lovely. So very lovely.
His gaze turned to Rowen, smile remaining. He was at peace. For most of his life, the weight of the world lay heavy on his broad shoulders, a mountain of duty and obligation. That mountain had grown heavier as the years ground by. The Chong Rann gave him some sense of clarity and relief. But the mountain always remained.
But together, these two had somehow given him the key. He saw the end clearly, now.
Once before, he had railed at God or fate or whatever force was in charge, refusing to be a tool. Apollyon had been hurt but not killed, Armande's actions only increasing the man's influence and power. Rage had filled him, fury at having been made a fool, at increasing the river of prestige and adulation that flowed toward him. And yet, only later did things become clearer. The Revelator, John of Patmos, had explained.
One of the beast's heads appeared to have sustained a mortal wound, but its fatal wound was healed. Filled with adoration, the whole world followed the beast.
Now, once again, clarity had come to him, this time from the lips of these women. The endgame. His destiny. And it was enough. Serenity suffused him, peace and acceptance at his fate. Something was in control. The fight would continue. Humanity would be saved.
He answered Rowan. "What it is....I do not know. And whether it means actual destruction, I do not know." His look hardened, though not at her. "But you do see the danger." He looked at Vale again. "The power of the gods is a tool. But its power corrupts...."
Despite the feeling of peace, pain stabbed his heart. His voice dropped to a whisper as he looked at Valeriya, looked through her. "Anyone can fall to it. Anyone..." His breath was slow as he tried to remain calm, to keep from letting the feelings overwhelm him. It wasn't Vale's eyes he was seeing now. It was another pair of green eyes. Carefully- so very carefully- he let it out of its cage. Quietly. "My own daughter...many years ago..." His eyes focused on her. "The power of the gods touched her, consumed her soul, left a demon its place. A changeling spawn that I had to..."
He trailed off, shuddering, not willing to say the words, the feel of the resistance to his sword, to the hot wet spurting on his hand, to the cry of the thing that still wore Lissandra's face, that still pleaded with him in her voice, the power it held over him, even now, more than 20 years later, to tear at his heart, that held him in its thrall, bound by its own perverse magic.
He closed his eyes, trying to escape the images, hoping to find the serenity he had felt just moments before., peace at the knowledge of his end, his death. He saw himself and Brandon within the cage, burning to death together, felt the flames lick about him, each cool and comforting, a respite from the unending fires in his mind, from the endless torments of his past. Each moment burning in those flames a purgatory, cleansing him, scouring him, bringing the bliss of eternal destruction, the nirvana of non-existence. Freedom from those eyes. An end to it all, his destiny fulfilled.
Duty was a mountain. Death was lighter than a feather. And a welcome friend. Deserved.
One day. In the future. He still had his work to do. And for now, Rowan was necessary. For now. But she would not escape her destiny either, even if it did not come at his hand.