Fear and Guilt

13 | Fear and Guilt

ISAAC LOOKED OUT AT the crowd, his eyes scanning the faces of those gathered to witness his death. He saw tears on some cheeks and fear in the eyes of others. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and when he opened them again, they shone with a clear and bright light.

  "Vengeance is a cruel thing," he said with a firm and steady voice. "Violence only begets more violence. Instead, follow well the teachings of Mikhail. Follow well the Word of the Almighty. Walk the path of peace, and a brighter future will surely follow."

  The crowd erupted into sobs and wails, their grief echoing off the stone buildings surrounding the city square.

  Isaac understood that many of them knew the truth. The RMA had been framed. They're no fools. But he also understood they felt helpless. They had no power. He also understood the flickering rage in their heart, and he had to contain it. He hoped, at the very least, that they would walk the path of peace. Because deep within himself, he was afraid, as Lucas alluded, that his death would bring blood.

  "May the Almighty guide your soul, mister Isaac," whispered the executioner.

  Isaac saw his eyes full of reluctance. But the executioner had to do his job.

  The two exchanged a nod, and the executioner finally pulled the lever as the trapdoor beneath his feet fell open.

  He fell, and his body twisted and turned as the rope around his neck tightened. It was painful, but it was necessary.

⁂

The sobs and wails resumed, louder than ever before. Isaac was gone.

  Theodore finally turned away, unable to bear the sight of his friend's lifeless body. He glared at the priest, who had his carriage and guards carry him away. But as the Civil Guards began to disperse the crowd, Theodore's attention was drawn to another carriage. It was a carriage he recognized.

  "Archbishop," he muttered to himself.

⁂

Archbishop Walton sat inside his carriage, resolved to witness Isaac's death. Resolved to witness the results of his failure... his regrets.

  As his eyes lingered on the square, he saw another carriage idle in the distance. He saw a woman with long dark hair wearing a black, high-collared dress accentuating her slender frame. It was somebody he recognized; Victoria Avelyn, the matriarch of a wealthy and influential family.

  "She's here too," said Walton.

  Davis, who sat across him, nodded his head. "Isn't she also with the RMA?"

  "Indeed she is."

  For a moment, Victoria lingered, watching the Civil Guards disperse the crowd. Then, without a word, she turned and climbed back into her carriage.

  Her driver snapped the reins, and the horses lurched forward, pulling the carriage away.

  As she disappeared from view, the distant sound of gunshots could be heard from everywhere.

  Walton then turned his gaze toward the direction of the Governor General's estate. "So, it has begun..." calmly, Walton said.

  "What should we do, Your Excellency?" asked Davis.

  "Dispatch the Order of St. Claire. All we can do now is make sure the innocent are safe," Walton said as he looked at Davis, commander of the Church's armed forces.

⁂

Cassius was nestled in Isabella's arms, but the distant expression in her eyes made it clear she was lost in thought. The weight of the Imperial decree ordering Isaac's death affected her greatly, and Cassius could sense the distress radiating from his mother. He wished he could take away her pain, but he was just an infant, unable to do anything to help.

  A tear traced its way down Isabella's cheek, and Cassius reached up to gently wipe it away. She managed a small smile through her tears, reassuring him that she would be okay. But Cassius could feel the guilt pressing down on him, the weight of his own helplessness. He wished he could be ignorant of the world's cruelty, to be blissfully unaware of the pain and suffering that surrounded him.

  The mother and son's peaceful reverie was broken by the sound of shattering glass downstairs, followed by screams and the sounds of blades clashing against each other. "What's going on?" Isabella said and looked toward the door.

  Isabella's face hardened as she moved with haste, pulling his crib across the floor and kicking at a hidden panel in the stone.

  He felt a bad premonition cling to him. It was suffocating. Fear... he felt fear. It was the same fear and premonition he felt when his family was massacred. Ever since that day, he had never feared. But now... he felt fear...

  He was confused by what Isabella was doing and began to cry. 'Why am I crying? No. No, don't leave. Stay!' he thought, but his mother could not hear him.

  "Shh, it's going to be okay," Isabella whispered and placed Cassius gently into the hidden compartment. "It's dark in there, but you'll be safe."

  Cassius felt a lump form in his throat as his mother closed the hidden panel, sealing him from the world. He wanted to cry out, plead, and beg her not to leave.

  Then for some reason, Hiram's words echoed in his mind: ...the universe sees not our pleas nor our wishes.

  Indeed, it does not. Memories of the past soon rushed into his mind. It reminded him of that day when he was so helpless and afraid...

⁂

Vincent had been in the kitchen, helping his mother prepare dinner when they broke in. His mother rushed and pushed him inside a closet.

  "You have to hide. Promise me you'll stay here and stay quiet," whispered his mother before she rushed away.

  Vincent crouched in the closet, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps thudding against the floorboards, accompanied by angry voices and... gunshots. He held his breath, hoping they wouldn't find him.

  As he cowered in the dark, he heard the heavy footsteps of the men approaching the closet. He held his breath, praying they wouldn't find him. But the closet door was ripped open, and Vincent came face to face with one of the men.

  The man reached for him, but Vincent's sister, Lisa, suddenly appeared, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him away. "Leave him alone!" she yelled, trying to fight off the man. "Vince! Run!"

  Vincent saw his chance to escape and bolted from the closet, running through the house as fast as he could. But he could hear his family's screams growing weaker, and soon they were replaced by silence.

  He found a hiding spot under a bed and waited, trembling with fear. When he heard the men leave and the sound of a car driving away, he emerged from his hiding spot and went to find his family. He found them lying in a pool of blood.

  "Mom...? Dad...? Lisa...?" he trembled as he slowly knelt on the floor, overcome with guilt. Why didn't he fight? Why did he hide? Why?

  He had promised to stay hidden when he shouldn't have. He wanted to fight, but he was overcome with fear. He wanted to go after them, but he could not. He was too small, too weak. He couldn't fight off grown men. All he could do was hide.

  Even so, he should have fought. He should have. But he did not.

  Vincent squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face. His parents were dead, and he was alone. It was all his fault. If only he did not hide. Maybe he could have saved them.

  His mother's hand slowly reached out and grabbed his arm, and Vincent was shocked to see her still alive, but barely. She whispered in his ear, telling him, "... promise me to make the most of your life."

⁂

Aelius was deep in concentration, surrounded by a pile of books on a wooden table in the corner of the vast library. His eyes were glued to the pages of a thick volume of a book, his quill scribbling notes in the margins.

  He left a part of his consciousness inside Vincent's mind – or rather, Cassius' mind – in order to study. Then he could transfer the knowledge he gained from studying to his original consciousness. Cassius' peak-rate soul core is strong enough to contain a part of his consciousness.

  It helped him greatly. If only peak-rate soul cores were not so rare, he could have split his consciousness even more.

  The smell of old parchment and ink filled his nose as he delved into his studies, "...no weapon of men managed to harm the Blight. No steel or metal pierced their skin or hide..."

  Suddenly, he felt a rumble under his feet, followed by the sound of books falling off the shelves. He looked up, startled, and realized the space was unstable. The library's chandeliers swayed dangerously, sending beams of light dancing across the room.

  "He's never had an unstable mind so far," he muttered to himself but remained in his seat, remaining calm. Even if he may be inside Cassius' mind, it certainly didn't mean he had access to Cassius' sensory senses, including his sight. Thus, he had no idea what caused the instability in Cassius' mind. "What's happening?"

  Aelius waited, expecting the shaky space to return to normal, but it didn't. Minutes passed, and it didn't.

  "It matters not. This needs to stop," he said and closed his eyes as his body shone in azure light.

  "Cassius, calm your mind and follow the light... Calm your mind, and follow the light..." he repeated, but nothing happened. However, he did not give up. "Calm your mind... and follow the light."