Bound and Broken (Melas Book 1) Read online

  However, if Aria felt guilty over endangering her daughter even if only for a minute, she did not think of that. Rather, she could not.

  Something else loomed over that guilt. A guilt so large, it crushed her very soul itself. It was an unforgivable sin— something a mother could never justify or rationalize. She was dead.

  Aria looked down at the gaping hole in her chest. At the place where her heart, lungs, and other vital organs should be. There was nothing there. She was dead, and yet she was alive for now.

  It was not something that could be explained normally. It was not even something that magic could explain. Necromancy could not do this. It allowed the living to reanimate the dead, and Aria was dead. So that was not possible.

  No— this was something even beyond magic. Something most mortals could never do. It was something only a Saint or Saintess could do. Or rather, something they were supposedly only able to do.

  It was a miracle. Power bestowed upon mortals by the Goddess to destroy the wicked Demons and those who follow their dark magic. And yet, it was a miracle that allowed Aria to live for now.

  Aria wanted to see the Saint’s reaction. He probably understood what happened but was too stupefied to fully comprehend it in the moment. She wanted to laugh just thinking about that.

  But Aria did not laugh. She was too guilty to laugh. Because even though it was a miracle that let her save her daughter, it was the miracle that would break Melas.

  Aria looked at the streaks of glowing purple lines that ran throughout her body. Once they faded— once the miracle ended— Aria was going to leave her daughter once and for all. Despite her promise, and despite her best attempts, she had failed. So, Aria spoke slowly.

  "Melas."

  "Yes mommy?" The little girl smiled as she looked up at her mother. Her gaze passed over the hole in Aria’s chest as if it was not there, and she locked eyes with her mom. "You’re alive... I’m so glad."

  Perhaps somewhere deep inside of Melas, she knew Aria was dead. That whatever this was, it was temporary. But the little girl ignored that feeling, choosing to believe that her mother was fine. Aria smiled bitterly at her daughter’s denial..

  "Melas, I am sorry."

  "What are you sorry about mom? You’re alive! We can finally leave—" The little girl got no further as Aria’s hug around her tightened.

  "Shh, Melas. It’s ok, my daughter." Aria slowly let go of the girl, and knelt down in front of her. She pressed her head against her daughter’s, and closed her eyes. "You will be ok, my daughter. I love you so much."

  With those words, Melas finally understood. The pieces that were all there finally connected and she tightly gripped her mother’s arm as she began to cry.

  "Please, mom. Don’t—" The little girl choked on the words and swallowed hard. "Don’t leave me. Don’t go."

  "I am sorry," said Aria, voice broken at the sight of her crying daughter.

  She felt as though it were her fault. As if there were something different she could have done to prevent this. But there was not.

  It was pure chance that brought about this meeting. Not destiny, and not fate. Aria was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it was the Inquisitors who were at the right place at the right time.

  Regardless, it had happened, and there was no longer anything that could be done about it. Aria was going to die and leave her daughter alone in this world. Her beautiful, gentle, and wonderful daughter. Aria took one last long look at her daughter as her vision became blurry.

  A single teardrop fell from her face as she pulled her head back. Aria tried to hold herself together. She could not cry, not in front of her daughter. She had to be strong in the final moments.

  But Melas did not. So she cried and wept and bawled her eyes out. A gentle hand reached out and wiped the tears from the little girl’s eyes. Aria tenderly held onto her daughter until her crying subsided. Until Melas finally looked her mother in the eyes. Only then did Aria speak.

  "You are so amazing and wonderful, Melas. From the moment you were born, you were the light of my life and my only purpose of living. You are a gift sent down from the Goddess, an angel that came down to me to soothe my wicked soul."

  Aria smiled down at her daughter, and Melas knew it was a true smile.

  "You were the first miracle that ever happened to me, and I never could imagine a world without you, my daughter. I thought I could always protect you, but I never could. Instead, you were the one who always protected me."

  Melas tried to protest, but Aria did not let her. She hushed her daughter, bringing a single finger over her mouth, gently pressing it against her lips.

  "You gave me the strength to live and gave me a reason to continue even when I had lost everything. You are everything to me, Melas, but now it is time for you to go."

  Aria leaned forward and gently kissed her daughter.

  "Thank you, Melas. I will always love you," spoke the mother softly, as she slowly got back up.

  And then she turned and faced her fate. She heard a whimper and more crying from her daughter, but no words. There was nothing else to be said.

  Melas cried and then ran. She cried as she ran into hell. As she ran past the violent storm of fire and fury. As the darkness bore down on her. But she was never consumed by the darkness, nor did the flames ever touch her. It stayed away from her, as her mother protected her in her death.

  Melas ran, and ran, and ran. She ran away from the flames, away from the village, and away from this nightmare. And not once did Aria turn to face her daughter.

  Aria was crying, and she did not let her daughter see her cry. She wanted her daughter’s last memory of her mother to be of a smiling woman. Happy to have been given a chance to redeem herself. Of a woman who loved her daughter and cared for her with her life. So she did not watch her daughter disappear.

  But Aria knew when Melas was gone. And when she was, only then did she finally speak.

  "You’re still alive."

  "...how?"

  The Saint shot a glare at the Fiend.

  The woman took a second to compose herself and wipe away her tears. And then, she met Saint Theron’s gaze and smiled innocently at his contempt.

  "Whatever could you mean?"

  "You know what I mean!" snapped the Saint. "How could a heretic like you—"

  He was abruptly cut off as a column of black flames crashed onto him. Golden fire fought back against the torrent from the hellish spell. But it was losing. Already, his armor was broken in a few places, and the mana crystal on his breastplate was falling apart.

  Theron’s armor and his miracles were failing him. But it would take time. Time which Aria did not have.

  Aria was going to die. But she was going to make the man who took everything away from her suffer before she did. She continued barraging him with fire as she spoke mockingly.

  "There are many things you do not know, Saint. Many things that the Church lied to you about. Miracles do not belong only to people like you. It is something anyone can do. Anyone can perform. Like magic. You believe that the Goddess favors you and hates us, but that can not be further from the truth."

  The man shouted something at her, but she ignored it. She did not care for what someone indoctrinated by the Church— by the Holy Xan Empire— had to say. So she spoke over him.

  "The Goddess loves us all equally. She loves me just as much as she loves you. After all, she has gifted you with miracles to help you crush your enemies. And as for me—"

  Aria gestured to herself.

  "The Goddess gave me my daughter."

  It was as if someone suddenly sewed the Saint’s mouth shut. He stopped shouting and stared at Aria. Truly stared at her. As if she was an actual person and not just some terrible Monster.

  "Impossible," said the Saint as his eyes widened in disbelief.

  Aria could not help but laugh at the look on his face. She stopped raining the black flames down on him as she met his gaze.

  "It is the truth."

  "You are lying!" shouted him, voice full of anger. "That child— she cannot be… she is not…"

  He trailed off as Aria held his gaze. Slowly, she raised her arms up to her sides and spoke. Her final act. To protect her daughter once and for all. To fulfill her promise.

  "She is the Child of the Goddess. She is Her Daughter. My daughter. And if you go after her— if you dare lay a hand on my Melas— you would be going against Her will, and you will forever suffer."

  With that final warning, Aria collapsed.

  The purple lines that ran across Aria’s body vanished. And the black flames dissipated into the air and light shone down on the Saint’s face. He was dumbstruck.

  And Aria was dead.

  ***

  I ran.

  I did not know how long I ran for. Day turned into night, and the road into forest. I ran past trees and animals and Monsters, but I did not care if I got eaten. I ran, and ran, and ran until the pain in my legs disappeared. Until they bled with every step. Until I wanted to collapse and die.

  But still, I ran.

  Because that was the last thing my mom told me to do. She told me to leave, and so I did; I did not know where I was going, or where I was supposed to go. Only that maybe, if I listened to my mom, she would maybe somehow come back.

  And as I ran, I never stopped crying. Tears stopped falling from my face, my ears stopped ringing, and my vision cleared up.

  But still I could not see.

  But still I could not hear.

  But still I cried.

  I did notice the sun set, nor did I notice the Monster charge at me. I did not even feel it when my body limply flew a hundred feet when the monster rammed into me like a truck.

  I did not know why I knew what b
eing hit by a truck felt like. Or what a truck was even supposed to be. Nothing made sense to me, and I understood nothing.

  Even when I looked up at the 12 foot tall horned bear-like creature as it stood over my crumpled half-dead body, I still did not know what was going on.

  Because my mother was dead.

  And that was all that mattered to me; I did not care for this world or for the me living in this world. I had already died once, so why did it matter if I died again?

  I only cared for my mom, and she was dead. She was the only reason I had to live in this world. So, as the Monster pressed its claws down on my chest and bore its fangs at me, I did not even struggle. The Monster's mouth closed in on me, and then—

  A 10 foot titan grabbed the beast and pulled its head back away from me. The Monster struggled against the giant of a man’s grip, but he simply raised it above his head. With both of his hands, the titan ripped the monster in half.

  Blood and guts rained down all over me, but I did not blink. I stared at my savior and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt something other than despair. Something that burned within me. At first, I did not know what it was. And as I tried to figure it out, two more figures appeared behind the giant of a man, and together they surrounded me.

  The first to speak was the titan. He stood to my left, wearing a full set of knight’s armor that covered all but his eyes. Two gleaming red pupils shone through the visor of his helmet, and an ethereal voice echoed through it.

  "Child of creation, fear not the perils of life and embrace death. Thou art one destined to be His, and through Him thou shalt attain salvation."

  The next to speak was the man to my right. He was dressed all in black and had a pointed hat. I recognized him as the man I met in the forest a few days ago. He had brilliant blue eyes that reflected the moon's light, and his voice was just as rough yet proper as I remembered.

  "Young one, He has granted your desires. He has given you all that you wished for. All that you have asked of Him. And with Him, you shall be supreme."

  And finally, the child standing in front of me spoke. He was a boy who looked a few years older than myself. He had white hair and was dressed in purple robes lined with gold trimmings. He looked at me with piercing golden eyes, and smiled gently. But unlike the others, he did not address me.

  "Long may He reign."

  That was all he said before he touched me. And when he did, I felt my consciousness fading and darkness slowly envelope me.

  As my consciousness vanished, my mind cleared up for a second. For just a moment, I could think clearly. And it was then, I understood what it was I felt burning deep inside me.

  I finally realized that I truly despised this world.

  The End of

  PART ONE

  Chapter 10: Interlude - Villamcreek

  It was morning when the young woman woke up. She groggily rubbed at her eyes as she took in the sun’s rays. The red haired woman yawned and slowly sat up in her bed— except, it was not her bed.

  Fria realized this and jumped out of the bed and took in her surroundings. She was alive. That was good. But what happened? The last thing the young Inquisitor remembered was… the Fiend.

  The Fiend had just killed Leon and was dragging his corpse around. Fria remembered seeing that and flying into a fit of rage, attacking the heretic and then—

  And then she blew up.

  Fria looked down at herself and saw no wounds on her body. She was not wearing her armor, but was instead clothed in some loose fitting robes. The red head touched herself and only felt soft skin, almost as if the flesh was tender and new.

  It was the work of a healing potion. Her skin and tissues would be delicate and easy to come into harm for the next few days, and her muscles would be weaker. She would have to be careful not to injure herself before she was fully recovered.

  The young woman fell at the thought. Fria was a new Inquisitor and this was her first mission. And it was not just a regular first mission Inquisitors took. No— it was a mission with Saint Theron.

  The Saint was a handsome, charming, and talented man. She knew he had a vow of celibacy, but she at least wanted to try and impress him a little. Of course, she also wanted to prove herself to her team but—

  Fria’s train of thought was interrupted by a knock from the door. The red head looked up and saw the door swing open as Saint Theron entered the room.

  The blonde man was carrying a bowl of soup and seemed startled to see her up and about. "Fria… you’re awake. That’s good."

  Saint Theron placed the bowl on a table next to the bed and smiled at the young woman. She blushed.

  "Oh, thank you." She managed to muster a smile back, and then it immediately slipped. "I— um, I’m sorry for letting you down. I was careless. It’s just— I saw Leon and…"

  Fria trailed off. Saint Theron just nodded and then shook his head.

  "We were all careless. The Fiend was much more powerful than we thought. But she’s gone now."

  Fria blinked, and then slowly nodded her head. The Fiend was dead. It was expected since she was alive and Theron was standing here in front of her. But it was still shocking to hear.

  The Fiend was a terror. Everyone in the Church knew about her and her crimes. They said she once crushed an entire army all by herself. She was like a true Demon from Hell. And she was now dead.

  Fria could not help but smile at the thought. Even though the Fiend has been in hiding for the last decade, she was still a problem that lingered in the background. Like a plague that never went away, it was like she could come back any day. And now the plague was gone.

  "This is— we have to tell the Church! I can’t believe it! She’s really gone. Do the others know about this? Of course they do!"

  Fria chattered excitedly to the Saint, forgetting about rank for the moment. However, Saint Theron did not look at her. Instead, he gently placed a hand on Fria’s shoulder and spoke slowly.

  "They’re dead, Fria. You and I are all that’s left."

  The young woman froze. She stared at the Saint, and the man hesitantly returned her gaze. Her heart rate sped up, and her breathing quickened.

  "It can’t be..." Her voice was a whisper, and her face was pale with shock. "...all of them?"

  "I am sorry."

  If you were to look at it objectively, it was a clear victory. It was not even a pyrrhic victory that cost the lives of thousands of men. It was a win in every sense of the word. Yet, Fria was not celebrating.

  Because all her friends were dead.

  It was true that she had only known them for the past six months. And it was true that she did not like all of them. But they were still her friends, and they were dead.

  But it was still a victory. The young woman tried to tell herself that, but she could not feel happy about it. The only thing she could think of right now was of her dead friends.

  She was standing behind Saint Theron as he was speaking to the villagers. They had to compensate the village for damage caused from the battle, but Fria could not bring herself to focus on what they were saying. Regret, guilt, and grief, all plagued her mind.

  What if I was stronger? Why was I so reckless? If only I did not—

  All these thoughts came and went. But it would not change a thing.

  Fria got herself incapacitated because she lost her temper. She was out for three days because of that. And because of that she could not help her allies when they needed her the most.

  Fria wanted to cry but she could not. Not in front of all these people. So instead she looked down and grit her teeth.

  "Fria."

  Fria looked up and noticed Saint Theron standing in front of her. He was with a middle aged man whom she recognized as the man who defended the Fiend. She glared at him as the Saint continued.

  "I spoke with villagers and they agreed to accept five hundred gold coins for the damages we caused. However, Mr Walden here also had an additional request of us which I feel we should accept. But I was hoping to hear your thoughts on the matter."

  Fria blinked, and barely stopped herself from shouting at the man. Additional request? After you tried to protect the Fiend?! The red haired woman did not even try to hide her animosity. But Walden ignored it.