Without the task of scanning for enemies to occupy him, the thoughts threatening to overcome Vir finally burst through the dam he’d erected.
He lied to me! He lied! All those demons…
The thoughts felt childish even as he heard them echo in his head. And yet, the knot that formed in his chest refused to go away.
“I once had a student,” Cirayus said softly. “Prodigy, really. A Bairan girl by the name of Amlana. A giant, and strong, too. Talented, and she worked herself to the bone like you. Well,” Cirayus hesitated. “Maybe not as extreme as you. I trained her personally.”
Vir remained silent, staring into the fire. He supposed there was some lesson Cirayus was hoping to impart with this tale. In any other situation, Vir would’ve been interested in hearing it. Right now, though? He couldn’t feel it was anything other than a hollow attempt to cheer him up. Or worse—to justify his own lie.
He should be apologizing to me. Not narrating some tale from his past.
“Thing was, her parents… they were even more accomplished, you see. Renowned warriors, both of them. Expected great things from their daughter. Expected her to surpass them. To win in the Bairan Tournament the very first time she entered.”
Cirayus continued when Vir didn’t reply, “The thing about pressure is, while everyone responds differently, there is always a limit. Amlana? Well, unbeknownst to me, they trained her in secret. Above and beyond my own sessions. They pushed her hard. Too hard, and… she broke.”
Vir expected Cirayus to go on, but he didn’t, simply staring down into the fire like Vir. He looked so sad. So… old.
“What happened?” Vir asked, hoping Cirayus would continue. Hoping it’d help wipe that look of grief.
“She won the first round. And the second, but they’d pushed both her body and mind far too hard training her. In her third fight, she grew desperate. Her strikes grew wild, her timing off.”
“So… she lost.”
“The match, and her life.”
“She died?” Vir asked in surprise. “Does that happen often in the tournament?”
“Not often, but it’s not unheard of. To be honest, I can’t even bear a grudge against her opponent. He acted more in self-defense than anything hostile. The way she snapped, lad… She was a different person in that fight. Possessed.”
“I’m… sorry,” Vir said softly.
“This was a tale of two centuries ago. Since then, I’ve trained hundreds, lad. Every demon has their breaking point. Every demon has their limits, both mental and physical. And, like the body, one does not expand those limits by breaking every bone in your body. The mind can be stretched, yes, but when taken too far, it shatters. Every. Single. Time. Few ever recover.”
“You’re saying I couldn’t handle the truth,” Vir said.
“Aye, that is exactly what I am saying. Your body nearly succumbed, acclimating to the Ash, and your mind had plenty of duress as it was. You’d left behind the world you knew. You’d left behind the one you loved. And you were only just beginning to accept your status as the last Gargan prince. Tell me true, lad. How would you have reacted if I told you then that the Chitrans united the entire Demon Realm against you? That they committed genocide against your clan, all to kill you?”
Vir opened his mouth to retort, but the words didn’t come. After all, hadn’t he nearly shirked the weight of all that Cirayus had told him back then? Hadn’t he felt he owed no loyalty to the Demon Realm? How this was all Cirayus’ wish, and how Vir wanted no part in this destiny?
“I might have run away,” Vir admitted, lowering his head in shame. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d have done. I’d have panicked, probably.”
“You’re a kind soul, lad. Seeing you visibly distraught over the deaths of your parents and retainers tore me to pieces. You are our final hope, Prince Sarvaak. You are more precious than any demon in the entire realm. I knew I could not tell you this then. I could not risk it. Not until you were ready.”
“And when would that be, Cirayus? If it wasn’t for Saunak, I still wouldn’t know! Were you planning on waiting until we left the Ash? Were you going to wait until some demon mentioned it in passing?”
Cirayus’ face filled with shame. “Alas, that… was my blunder. I knew. After you came back from Mahādi. I knew you weren’t the same boy who’d just left. Your demeanor. Your power. I knew then you were ready. I should have told you under the tree. And yet I didn’t.”
Vir was about to ask why, but Cirayus preempted him.
“Because, it seems, even after four centuries of life, this old demon can’t help but try and protect those he loves,” Cirayus said, smiling wryly as a lone tear fell down his cheek. “The Gods know I’ve done a piss-poor job of it.
“When you fell through that Ash Gate, I nearly lost myself. I hadn’t felt such pure, crushing terror in, well, in centuries. The thought of losing you… And then you returned, safe and sound. My relief was the equal of my worry. I thanked all the gods for delivering you to me. I swore I would do better. I simply couldn’t bring myself to burden you with the truth. Not then. Not at that moment.”
Vir bit his lip. His feelings of indignation still raged within him, but they were overwhelmed by a wave of another, far more potent feeling. Empathy.
Hadn’t Cirayus sacrificed nearly two decades of his own life for him? Hadn’t he lost several of his family in the war against the other clans? Vir knew he was still grieving for them. That the scar of their loss still hadn’t healed.
What am I to him?
“You… think of me as one of your own, don’t you?” Vir asked.
Cirayus met his gaze, his face a mixture of anguish, pride, and determination. “Lad, I hold you more dear than my own sons.”
The response was immediate, and without a shred of uncertainty, leaving Vir at a loss for what to say.
What could he say? That Cirayus ought to have respected Vir’s mental fortitude more? That was Ash’va dung, and Vir knew it. His godfather was only thinking of his well-being, and what’s more, he had ample qualifications in that domain to back it up. This wasn’t just some old doting parent being overprotective of their child. Cirayus had consulted his centuries of experience and judged that telling Vir would’ve done more harm than good.
Yes, he could’ve told him before they’d met Saunak… but could Vir really hold that against him?
Of course not. Not after all he’s done.
“I… understand,” Vir said at last. “Why you did what you did. I get it. It’d be a lie to say I’m not a little angry, but I figure that’s nothing I can’t work out with a fight or two.”
Seeing Vir’s grin, the tension seemed to dissipate from Cirayus. His shoulders slackened, and his expression turned from worry to gratitude.
Not the gratitude a retainer would have of being forgiven by their master, but that of a loved one.
And yet, Cirayus’ feelings were only one part of the puzzle. Seeing Vir’s mood darken once again, the giant laid a hand on his shoulder.
“But?” he asked gently.
“But… It doesn’t change the facts. Saunak was right, Cirayus. It isn’t just the Chitrans I need to watch out for. They allied all the clans to kill me. What awaits me in the Demon Realm, if not a world full of people who’d love nothing more than to murder me in cold blood?”