Abaddon

Chapter 17 : Painful Memories

A week had passed since the battle of Evergreen. Since Azrael left me with words I still couldn’t piece together. The camp had grown quiet. Weapons were stored back in the armory, and the knights—rested and steady—now walked their patrols along the gates.

At the center of camp, I stood with the others. The air was heavy, carrying the weight of reports and findings gathered from the battlefield.

“After retrieval, we gathered several spell books, magic stones, and a number of rare items,” Lancelot said. His voice was calm, deliberate, as though every word needed care. “But among them, one stood apart. A book I can only call… disturbing.”

He let silence stretch across the room.

Uriel narrowed her eyes. “Disturbing how?”

Lancelot bent down and pulled a parcel from the floor beside him. He unwrapped it, revealing a small brown leather book. No markings. No title. He placed it on the table, letting it fall with a dull sound in front of Uriel.

“Plans,” he said. “All traced to one city. Fulmere.”

The name struck me like a hammer. My chest clenched. My fists curled against the table. Fulmere. My home. The land of lightning. The seat of the Valion family. My family.

A sharp c***k split the silence. I looked down. My hand had crushed through the wood of the table. Splinters pricked my palm.

All eyes turned toward me.

“Archie?” Uriel’s voice cut through the silence. Calm, but sharp. Her gaze fixed on me. “Are you alright?”

I forced myself to breathe. My knuckles were white. Slowly, I unclenched my hand and let the splintered fragments fall from my palm.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, though the strain in my voice betrayed me.

Abruptly, I stood. Without another word, I turned and strode out of the tent. The air outside felt too close, too heavy. I needed to get away, to breathe.

The mocking laughter of my siblings echoed in my skull. My father’s look of disgust seared into my thoughts. My mother’s absence gnawed at me, hollow and raw. My fists clenched tighter. My mana surged, cracking the dirt beneath my feet as I passed through the gates.

I raised my fist toward a tree, needing to release the storm inside me.

“Arc!” Elise’s voice called.

I froze. The fury stalled. My mana dimmed.

I turned. Elise stood bent over, her breath uneven, her chest rising sharply as she caught up. Her eyes—soft, worried—pulled me out of my haze.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping closer. She reached out and took my hand gently. “I saw you run out of camp. Your eyes were cold. Tell me why you look this way.”

Her voice anchored me. I let her guide me toward a fallen tree, a scar of the last battle. She sat down and tugged at my arm until I joined her.

And then I spoke. I told her everything. She already knew the pain of my childhood, but not the place it came from. I told her of Fulmere, of my family, of my siblings and my father, of the absence that shaped me. I told her why the mention of Fulmere tore into me and why I had run out consumed by rage. Every word burned leaving my chest, but with each one I felt lighter.

When I finished, silence hung heavy—until another voice broke it.

“So that’s why,” Uriel said, stepping out from the shadows. Her eyes glinted as she walked into the light. “I thought you had lost your mind.”

Her gaze held firm on me. Tension clung to the air.

“I hate to ask this,” she said at last, “but will you go to Fulmere with me?”

Her words landed like a blade.

Elise shot to her feet, anger flashing across her face. “You just heard all he said, and that’s what you think to ask him?” Her tone was sharp, cutting in a way I had never heard from her before.

Uriel didn’t flinch. Her gaze never left me. She wanted my answer.

And I already had one.

As much as I despised my family, a part of me still yearned for their acknowledgment. I wanted them to see the child they abandoned—alive, strong, and no longer alone. I reached for Elise’s hand and pulled her gently back.

“It’s fine, Elise,” I said quietly.

I stood and stepped closer to Uriel, until I was in front of her.

“I’ll go,” I said firmly. “On one condition—” I paused, holding her gaze. “I get to see my family again.”

Uriel hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “You mean you want to show off your new strength.”

I gave a silent nod.

For a long moment, her disapproval was written plainly across her face. Then she exhaled, long and low.

“Fine. Perhaps your reunion will also serve to draw out information on the lords.”

Her gaze shifted to Elise, who stood still, her brows drawn tight in worry. Uriel’s voice softened.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t join us, Elise. We need you here to master the use of your eyes. War may come, and your gift could be the turning point.”

Elise bit her lip, then nodded, quiet but resigned.

“Then let’s return to camp,” Uriel said, her tone gentler now.

We walked back a long way, longer than it should have been, but eventually we reached camp. At the gates, Lilith stood with three knights, listening to their report. Worry carved lines across her face.

When her eyes caught us, she turned sharply, dismissing the knights without another word.

“Aunty!” she called, rushing toward us. Her voice trembled with urgency. “We have a problem.”