The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 52: Misunderstood?

Chapter 52: Misunderstood?

A shiver crawled down my spine, and I took an unconscious step back. "Demonkin?" I felt no connection to others of my race, except empathy for their persecution, but my heart broke for Soltair, who must have suffered as he was forced to cut down those who looked like me.

Regardless of the reason, Soltair’s face was black, his voice expressionless. "We killed them all. Even when they surrendered, and begged for mercy. I couldn’t stop myself.."

Trithe looked at him, her eyes softening. "We did what we had to. Who knows how many more they might have killed."

"But were all of them guilty? Surely, the children hadn’t participated in the massacre," he said hoarsely. Tears gathered in his eyes but refused to fall.

"This is a war, Soltair. War isn’t all glory and riches, but filled with horror," she said softly. Her eyes wavered slightly, allowing me to see a rare moment of vulnerability. "I don’t like it either, but it’s what you were sent here to do."

He looked up, meeting her eyes with gratitude. "Thank you, Trithe, but I can’t accept that. The church ordered us to slaughter them before we even discerned the situation. We were justified this time, but what if it were all just a misunderstanding?"

Trithe shook her head, raising her voice in exasperation. I got the feeling this wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. "A misunderstanding? They sacrificed an entire village to try and summon a Demon Gate! Hundreds of humans gone like ash in the wind. If we hadn’t arrived when we did, the invasion might have begun right then and there."

"But did we need to kill all of them? Many of them were just survivors of the Beast Kingdom."

I looked between them, unable to follow the plot or feelings of their mission. Regardless, I wanted to say something, to comfort the two in some way, but the somber atmosphere stilled my tongue.

Trithe was quiet for a time, then laid a hand on his arm. Her white fingers contrasted against the browning bloodstains on his steel plate, but the touch alone seemed to lighten some of the darkness on the hero’s face.

"We do what we must. The peaceful standards and beliefs of your old world are only going to hurt you. You need to embrace the reality of Enusia."

"I don’t know if I can," Soltair replied, looking up at her, eyes swimming with doubt. "I don’t think killing will ever come naturally to me."

"Just try, alright? I’m here for you whenever you need me, whether you need to talk, spar, or love someone."

Soltair sighed, rubbing his forehead. Thank you, Trithe. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Let’s report to the Pope. I need some time to think."

Trithe took a breath and nodded. "I’m right behind you."

Although I stood in their circle, both seemed ignorant of my presence, and, before I could get a word in, they turned and walked down the corridor. Without a glance back, the two left me softly panting in the hallway, walking closely enough for their hands to brush. Their closeness bordered intimacy, taking my breath away. Soltair, who I had depended on ever since he freed me from the warehouse, didn’t bother to so much as glance back. What had happened on their mission?

Although I felt like an interloper, I moved to follow, calling his name once more. "Soltair, please wait."

He paused, looking back in confusion. "Oh, sorry. I assumed you wanted to avoid the Pope as much as possible."

"That’s just it," I started. "When you were g-"

Trithe rolled her eyes, interrupting. "Just go wait somewhere else. We’ll call you when we want to see you."

"Hey," Soltair said, looking at her sharply, "try and be a bit kinder."

Trithe’s lips curled into a snarl. "Look that filthblood in the eyes and say that again."

Her words sent knives to my heart. It had been a long time since she used that slur. I looked expectantly at Soltair, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

"Soltair?" I whispered, a hand flying to my breast as the seconds drew out. Each moment of silence put a cruel twist on the daggers, and I turned away before he did.

"As you command," I mumbled. As Soltair refused to deny them, Trithe’s words were registered under the Pope’s command of obedience.

The priests and pilgrims flowed around me like water, yet I’d never felt so alone before. Unable to fully believe the change in Soltair, I snuck a glance behind me. He stood motionless with his back to me, Trithe clinging to his side. She met my gaze, yet her face was devoid of any frustration or anger that had suffused it earlier.

Instead, she looked, apologetic. Soltair straightened his shoulders and began walking, pulling her along with him. Unable to comprehend what had happened, I leaned against the wall, sliding down and hugging my knees. Many stared at me curiously as they walked by, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Tears gathered in my eyes, always threatening, but never spilling down my cheeks.

Time passed without meaning, the shadows slowly stretching out across the floor. Although my eyes were filled, the threatening tears never spilled down my cheeks. The pain was too great for simple tears, seeping into the depths of my heart the slave crest couldn’t dream of touching. Depths I didn’t have, before meeting Soltair. What was that saying, again? You can’t truly hurt until you’ve loved?

I didn’t know if I loved Soltair. There was no experience for me to compare my feelings to, nothing in my previous life that prepared me for kindness like his. Was our relationship only this shallow, in the end? He was the first to tell me he rejected the notion of race, that I wasn’t a demon in his eyes. So why, then, did meeting demonkin change all that? Was his encouragement and support just as superficial?

No, that couldn’t be, I’d rather believe this to be some elaborate plot of the Pope. Did that mean Trithe was involved? The thoughts spun through my mind for hours, blurring against each other and coming to no resolution. The challenges and suffering I encountered in the past few days were forgotten, temporarily shelved in a dusty corner.

When the first reds of evening filtered through the windows, a shadow fell upon me. Thron’s voice brought my head up, the elderly priest looking down on me in concern.

"I heard about the spar, and the second prince. I’m sorry about what happened."

The apology was unexpected, and I stared blankly at the librarian. I shook my head wryly and took his offered hand. The events of the morning felt like a lifetime ago. Still, I did nothing to dismiss his misunderstanding and offered him a slight curtsy in thanks.

He smiled at me, patting me on the head between my horns. I took a flustered breath, staring up at him with wide eyes as he kept his hand there for a while, as though I were his granddaughter. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you," he said, finally taking his hand back. "I realize it might not be a good time, but I found some leads on your query."

I rested my chin on my knees and took a deep, shaky breath. "No, I think it’s the perfect time." If they were trying to convince Soltair that I was useless and a burden, then I would have to work extra hard to prove them wrong. I couldn’t just let the one person who truly cared for me go that easily. If it was a fight they wanted, I was willing to give it.

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