Kartiel's Curse [Chapter 15.3]

Author's Note: This chapter took longer than most of mine have in the past, but for good reason! I finally got around to write out a plan for the next couple of chapters. It should help with the pacing - I just needed a direction for the story to go in. Luckily, I should have some of the fun little surprises that I've always loved writing regardless of my planning. The council scene you're about to see, for example, was something I just came up with today, though it still follows what I had planned in my notes.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Words: 2,241

Last Line(s): She suddenly fell silent, understanding dawning on her. Everything began to make sense—the impressive mayoral palace, his position as mayor, his interest in the lockets compared to everyone else in Rey, why she felt like Kartiel never made it past the palace's front gates, and why she felt such a feeling of betrayal whenever she had looked at Ikach.

He was the adviser who had killed the last king.

She withdrew her hand from the spine of the book. The stars continued to move and twinkle in the painted sky above them, but Cass no longer felt in awe of the room and its collection of books. All she could feel was a terrible knot of fear and worry growing in the pit of her stomach. Ikach was a murderer. She had befriended his daughter. She had stayed in his home. She had left Aspen there, all by herself in a world they clearly didn't understand as well as she thought they did.

It didn't matter that he had done it for what he believed to be the right reasons; it still had resulted in a death. It had resulted in a son mourning the father he could never get back, and a pain that would never go away. Maybe she wouldn't have felt so strongly about him if she didn't have Kartiel's memories—after all, Earth had its fair share of killers. But those killers were all tucked away in prisoners; she had seen Ikach just a day ago.

Orpheus got to his feet, slipping the book underneath his arm. Cass took a step back into the shelf behind her. The books teetered precariously, but none fell to the ground. She wasn't scared of him. She knew she should have been. That was the frightening part. She was taking all of this so calmly, forgetting about the true reason she had come to Telorum in the first place. She needed to get home, even if Kartiel's memories made this world feel like it could have been her own.

Orpheus took a hesitant step forward.

“Do you want to continue the tour now?” he asked, his voice quiet. His face was once again hidden underneath the shadows of his hood; part of her wondered what she would have seen on his face if he pushed it back.

She needed to find her way back to her world. A hand went up to her locket, fingering the cool metal as she recalled her arrival in Seraphinity. She couldn't be rude to Orpheus. It simply wasn't her nature. But now she was longing for the comfort of her bed, not the one waiting for her up in the top of the tower. She wanted to see the familiar faces of neighbors she had never truly gotten to know, but desperately wanted to know now. She just wanted to be normal again, even if normal meant being invisible with just Aspen to turn to.

She managed a small nod.

Orpheus strode past her, cloak swishing around his boots. She listened to the click of his heels on the hardwood floor for a moment before silently falling into step behind him. It was only when they were out of the library that she finally found the confidence to speak.

“Orpheus,” she said, her voice just as quiet as his had been, “I want to go home.”

He came to an abrupt stop beside the king's portrait.

Her grip on her locket tightened.

“Aspen and I...my friend and I didn't mean to come here,” she said. “We were just hiking in the woods. My locket brought us here. That's why I came to Telorum—the people here know how to use them, don't they? Can you...Can you tell me how to get back home?”

His shoulders slumped, and a sigh left his lips as he turned back to face her. Even before he spoke, she knew what the answer was going to be.

“I'm sorry, Cass,” he apologized. His hands clenched into fists as his gaze dropped down to the ground.“I can't. I-I should have told you before, even though you never asked.”

“...Why?”

He took a deep breath. He looked so small and sounded so scared when he spoke, almost as if he was afraid she was going to be mad at him for being unable to help. “When I cast a spell, I tap into my magic with the help of words. From what Kartiel's told me, the locket works when you connect your soul to it. It's like with your actual magic—it's wild, but can be controlled. You could return home if you knew how to control your magic, but I could never teach you that...”

He ducked his head further down.

“...It's why Kartiel never lets me leave,” he whispered. “I can't change my form. They never taught me how. I...I could look human if I connected with my soul, but the most I can do is make my wings disappear. That's why Kartiel looks so human, even though he's half fallen. He can do it. So I'm sorry, Cass, but I can't help you...”

She wanted to cry again, back like she did in Rey when she was told there was no way to get back home. But she couldn't let herself do that now. Things were different. Back in Rey, she had felt so helpless. She had been in Telorum for less than a full day, and hadn't even seen outside of the castle, but she knew it and its capital city had resources that she could never find in Rey.

“Could Kartiel teach me, then?” she asked.

He looked up.

“You said he can connect with his soul,” she added, a little more confidently than before. “And he has a locket just like mine, so he has to know how to use it.”

Orpheus studied her from underneath his hood. After an uncomfortable moment of silence passed, he nodded. “He's been trying to teach me how to connect with my soul. If he can teach me something like that, he could probably teach you how to use the locket.”

She blinked away the tears that had begun to form before they could fall, giving him a small smile. “I just have to convince him to teach me.”

“That shouldn't be hard,” Orpheus replied. His hood fell back ever so slightly—he was smiling too, fangs glinting in the light of the floating candles. “If he says no, I'll talk to him.” He paused, and the smile faltered. “But it's not as simple as teaching you how to just use the locket. If you want to learn something like that, you have to master the basics of magic.”

She stared down at the hand holding the locket, then slowly looked back up at him. “...I have to learn how to use my darkness?”

He nodded.

“There has to be another way,” she protested.

He shook his head. “It's the only one.”

“But...But my darkness is bad,” she whispered. She was gripping the locket so tightly that she could feel her fingernails digging into the palm of her hand. “It could hurt someone. It almost hurt Prince Rodet, and it-it never does what I want it to. What if it hurt you, or Kartiel, or a complete stranger?”

“You won't,” he promised.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. “Everyone says my magic is bad. Doesn't that mean it's dangerous?”

“Magic is an extension of who you are,” Orpheus said. “We haven't known each other long, but you're not the type of person that could hurt someone else. As long as that never changes, your magic will never hurt another person.”

He readjusted his hood, casting his entire face in shadows once more. She didn't try to argue. She didn't know if she was supposed to trust what Lira had told her or what he was telling her now. Orpheus had made a true assessment of her character, but she couldn't shake the memories of her darkness wildly shooting up around her.

“We can talk more about this later—let's just finish the tour,” he said. He turned his back to her, then began walking down the hallway.

She hurried on after him, but not half as eagerly as before.

xXx

Ximum's age truly was showing.

Kartiel stifled a yawn and resisted the urge to rest his head on the table, listening as the young councilman prattled on about how foolish it was to allow an outsider a spot in the castle. He wasn't surprised when Ximum could only find support in Lue and Ien; the trio had grown up with stories of Ikach. He was, effectively, the monster underneath the bed. Kartiel often tried to ignore how public his past was to the entirety of his kingdom, but it was difficult when Ximum's defense relied heavily on what had happened last time Telorum had trusted an outsider.

“You can't fight fate, Ximum,” Dari said. He casually slid his hand across the table to slip it into his wife's, but Etal had always been more orientated towards business. It was her sixth consecutive term on the council; she hadn't won it by getting distracted by her husband's affections. She pulled her hand away and put it under the table. Dari frowned, but didn't press the matter. He turned back to Ximum. “She's going to become Kart's contracted. We all know it's impossible to stop something like that.”

“But there's nothing that says that she has to stay in the castle!” Ien argued. She glanced over at Kartiel from the other side of the table. “Out of all of us here, you should understand the risks the most.”

He kept his face an emotionless mask. “Cass isn't a threat.”

“That's what we all said about Ikach, and look what he ended up doing,” Hix muttered.
Now that was a bit of a surprise; Hix was one of the oldest members of the council, but he also the first councilman to discover Ikach's betrayal. Kartiel let his thoughts momentarily be consumed by memories of the blood pooling at his feet, and of the horror written across Hix's pale face when he saw the extent of the injuries. It was important to remember things like that—it reminded him of the validity of the point being made.

“Ikach was different,” Etal said, breaking through the silence. Kartiel turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. “He was an adult when he came from Inden. Cassandra Hughes is younger than Orpheus is, and she came from a completely different world. The preconceptions aren't as strong.”

“Ikach wasn't driven by prejudice,” Lue hissed. They crossed their arms as their gaze traveled around the table, and set their lips into a thin frown.

Dari let out a sigh. “We all know that,” he said, casting a glance over in Kartiel's direction,“but I think Etal was trying to be tactful.”

Kartiel shook his head. “It's been more than two decades—I've come to accept the reason Ikach did what he did.” His hand decided to betray him as he spoke, going up to his locket and fingering it out of habit. “If we want this discussion to amount to anything, we need to address what motivated him. But there is an important point that I would like to bring up. Ikach was simply...an interest, one who we knew relatively little about. Cass is going to someday be my contracted.”

He folded his hands and rested them on the table.

“I've received her memories for the past two weeks,” he continued. “I might not fully understand what I see of her world, but I have begun to understand the person that she is. I can't say too much, due to having so little to work with, but it does seem like she isn't motivated by the same things he was.”

The council's chambers fell into a heavy silence.

As they all contemplated the arguments put forth, Kartiel's gaze traveled over to the window. He had felt so exhausted lately; he would need to put some effort into sleeping tonight.

“Let's take a vote,” Neven quietly said from her corner.

Votes were cast.

Unsurprisingly, Cass was allowed to stay. He hadn't expected much opposition to begin with—it was just a matter of tradition and routine. Only Ximum didn't relent. The man (who seemed so young, despite being born only days after the betrayal) stormed out of the room. Kartiel went to follow after him and return to the castle, but was stopped before he could step through the door. The others cast a glance at Dari and Kartiel as they left the room, yet all continued on their way. Even Etal didn't remain.

“Is everything alright, Karti?” Dari asked.

Kartiel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm fine.”

Dari frowned. “You don't look like it.”

“I'm fine,” he insisted.

“The bags underneath your eyes say otherwise, kiddo,” Dari said. “You've almost fell asleep in the past two meetings, and you look as pale as a ghost.”

“If you had my dreams, you wouldn't want to sleep either,” Kartiel replied. It was a poor excuse for a joke, but Dari knew him too well to try hiding it.

Dari's frown deepened, and his green eyes filled with concern. “Is it because of your future contract? I know you're scared-”

“It's not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head in denial. “I'm just...tired. I've been king for far too long, Dari. I can't remember what it was like not to be. I just wish I could...”

He hesitated, unsure if he should continue or not.

Dari's gaze softened. “You don't have to play king with me.”

“...I just wish I could return to that day and do something different,” he finished.

“I wish you could too, Karti,” Dari said. “I wish you could too.”