What Now?

[Oriena]

She’d meant the power; she knew enough about the horde’s functioning to understand that if Nox said they were gone, they could not have gone without a sacrifice. But something in the way he explained it in his own words made her realise it was deeper than that. The absence was stripping, like an unplugged wound. Terminal.

“I’m not that kind of absolution.” She said it husky and low, but her eyes were stormy and narrowed, offering not a shred of pity. Like she’d ever agree to be the instrument of his weakness. Like she’d ever offer him mercy.

There’d always been an unspoken agreement between them; that if the horde won out and a line was crossed, Ori had no problem ending it. But that was different – it was the price of playing with fire. The balance of violence between them spoke of more trust than she cared to admit, and it was easier to tell herself she didn’t walk out because of his hand tightening around her throat. It was a flimsy lie, especially now they were not remotely equal in strength, but it sufficed.

That, and the flame of anger sparked from his words.

“So that’s it? Lose your power, lose yourself. It’s pathetic, Nox. I won’t stick around to watch you give up. I won’t watch you begging scraps.” She was as incensed as she’d been when he’d almost gotten himself killed at the Blackthorn mansion. Angry that he asked her for the comfort of a lie like it’d be any kind of balm on the emptiness he had inside. They both knew she was only here because she chose to be, that whatever theatrics or delays, she always answered when he called. “And I sure as hell won’t weep for this living grave of a man. Stop accepting. Find something to fight for.” She shoved him, hard, knowing the mechanical hand would have no give.