270: The Terrible Cost of Victory (Patreon)

Vir tore through the streets of Samar Patag, searching desperately for prana signatures that matched the kids’. Their prana was meager, but it was all he had.

News was getting around that the horde had been defeated, and the streets were far less empty than they had been just an hour ago, complicating the search. Every minute that passed served to tighten the knot in his chest.

Vir hadn’t felt anywhere near this much anxiety even while fighting off hundreds of Ash Beasts. Growing increasingly desperate, he exhausted his body’s prana reserves, Leaping and Blinking as fast as he could.

It was Shan who picked up their scent first, bounding up to Vir and barking for him to follow.

At Leap speeds, Vir had only a fraction of a second to take in the scene before him. A lone Garuda thrashed around, enraged. Its batlike wings were caught in a web of netting that it was in the process of tearing through. Thirty paces away, Hiya and Ekta ran for their lives.

The Garuda crouched, preparing to pursue.

That was all Vir needed to see.

The Garuda lunged, blurring as it moved.

Vir Blinked past, intercepting the beast in midair. His Prana Bladed talwar flashed so quickly that even Shan struggled to follow it.

When they landed, the Garuda’s body lacked a head. Its body stumbled before the terrified girls, then collapsed with a great thud.

Vir eyed the girls, breathing a sigh of relief when he found them uninjured. Yet there were only two when there should’ve been three.

“Bolin,” he said. “Where is he?”

Ekta opened and closed her mouth, but no words emerged from her throat.

“He’s… He’s dead,” she whispered. “He died saving us.”

“WHERE?” Vir roared, startling the girls.

Hiya hesitantly pointed down the road, to a house that was half-destroyed. At the same moment, another Ash Wolf rounded a corner at the end of the street, eyeing the girls.

“Shan. Protect them,” Vir commanded, then Blinked for the house.

It was a war zone. Whatever had happened here had devastated the place, making it unrecognizable as a dwelling.

Vir’s eyes came to rest on a body that lay face down in a pool of blood.

Bolin.

Vir’s heart nearly seized as he rushed to the boy. He knelt and placed his ear against Bolin’s chest, desperate to hear a pulse.

I failed him, Vir thought. He died because I wasn’t strong enough. Because I wasn’t fast enough. Because I let those beasts through.

Vir heard something. He lifted his head in shock. It was faint—so very faint—but it was there. He saw the prana inside Bolin. Weak, and dissipating with each passing second, but not yet gone.

“He’s alive,” Vir whispered. “He’s still alive!”

Without a second thought, Vir gently scooped Bolin into his arms and Leaped out of the shattered home.

Vir raced across Samar Patag, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, carrying the dying boy in his arms.

His destination? The only one he knew who could heal Bolin. The only one he truly trusted.

— —

He found Cirayus cleaning up the remaining beasts near the southern wall. Vir plummeted to the ground beside him.

“He’s dying. He needs healing,” Vir said urgently.

Cirayus turned to regard Bolin, even as he flattened a nearby Ash Beast with Balancer of Scales, finishing it with Sikandar.

The Bairan bloodline tattoo lacked the tremendous force Vir was used to, and for a moment he wondered why Cirayus had gone easy, before realizing the demon had no choice. Balancer of Scales barely functioned here, outside the Ash.

“Impaled, looks like,” Cirayus said, laying out the healing orbs Maiya had given him.

“Missed his spine, but his organs are in rough shape. Massive internal bleeding.”

“Can you help him?” Vir said.

“I will certainly try, lad.”

Cirayus pressed the B Grade Mend Flesh orb against Bolin’s injury and got to work.

Vir paced anxiously while Cirayus worked his healing magic, keeping an eye out for nearby enemies. There were none—the giant had done an excellent job of annihilating the rest of the horde.

Vir almost wished he hadn’t—killing beasts would’ve made for an excellent distraction. From the pain. From the guilt. The minutes that followed were some of the longest in Vir’s life.

What if Bolin dies? he thought, over and over again. What would he say to the rebels? How would he face Janani? All his bravado, his big talk about improving the lives of the Gargans; it’d all have been a lie.

“You cannot blame yourself for what happened to him, lad,” Cirayus said as he worked. “I assume it he was out roaming the streets?”

Vir nodded.

“Then the burden, as difficult as it is to accept, is this child’s to bear. Not yours.”

“If I hadn’t let those beasts through, he wouldn’t have been in danger.”

“Arrogance!” Cirayus scolded. “That you saved the city with as few losses as you did is a miracle, lad, and I’ll personally deal with any who say otherwise. You must be content with this. Else, you’ll run yourself to the ground. I’ve seen others collapse over less.”

Vir bit his lip, tasting blood. He knew Cirayus was right. But he simply couldn’t accept it. The emotions were simply too raw. Too fresh.

“Think of what is to come, lad. Of the decisions you’ll be forced to make in the course of this rebellion, and even after. Do you truly believe this is the last death you’ll face? Nay. ‘Tis scarcely begun!”

“Will he live?” Vir asked when Cirayus switched orbs to repair Bolin’s skin. His voice was broken and raspy.

“I cannot say,” Cirayus said, heaving a sigh. “I have healed his physical injuries to the best of my ability, but the boy remains unconscious. I’m afraid I am not well enough versed in the healing arts to know if anything more needs to be done. You’d best get him to a demon healer. They may know more.”

Vir was silent a moment. “Thank you,” he said at last.

Cirayus gave him a sad smile. “Don’t thank me just yet. I’ll mop up any stragglers here and meet you in the city. Where can I find you?”

“Janani’s orphanage. Ask Greesha. She’ll know.”

“Aye,” Cirayus replied. “I s’ppose she will. Now get going!”

Vir scooped Bolin up, gave one last nod to Cirayus, and bounded back to the city.

— —

“What do you mean there’s no one who’ll look at him?” Vir snapped, making Janani shirk back.

“No doctor in town will treat the orphans.”

“Just tell me where the best doctor is. I’ll make him,” Vir said coldly.

“Neel, please,” Janani begged. “Please allow me to look. It may not be much, but I am well versed in the ancient arts of natural healing. Leave him with me.”

“Fine,” Vir said, laying Bolin down gently on Janani’s bed.

He turned and stormed out of the room, rage bubbling just beneath his skin. It was irrational; he knew. He had no business taking out his feelings on Janani.

He was angry at himself, but as Cirayus had said, even that was unjustified.

“Neel?” Janani said quietly, watching him leave. “Thank you.”

Her words only served to rub the salt in his wounds even deeper.

Vir didn’t want thanks. He wanted… justice. He wanted Bolin to make a full recovery. And he wanted to hear that no demons had died.

“How many?” Vir asked. “How many Gargans perished?”

Janani looked away. “I am unsure. I wasn’t—”

“And what would you do, knowing that number?” Greesha said, stepping into the orphanage. Heavy bags shadowed her eyes, and she looked utterly exhausted. With her Ruler Calling, Vir could guess how busy she’d been, managing and directing both Gargans and Chitrans during this crisis.

“I must know,” Vir said.

“Why? So you can go on a guilt trip for not having saved everyone?” Greesha admonished. “So you can hate yourself for not being perfect?”

“I…” Vir had no words. Greesha was exactly right. That was exactly what he would do.

“Such arrogance! “ Gresha said, echoing Cirayus’ words. “Thinking anyone can be perfect! Ha! Let alone a whelp with barely a decade of experience under his belt! Arrogance… and hubris.”

Vir looked away, ashamed.

“Listen to me, son. Nobody. And I mean, nobody in this Ash-damned city expected you to drive off that entire horde on your own. It’s ludicrous. Insanity! Even Cirayus would’ve struggled with that, and he has four centuries of experience under his belt! Listen to Janani. She’s far wiser than you’ll ever be.”

Janani worked on treating Bolin and pretended not to hear.

“What you did was a miracle,” Greesha repeated. “Do you understand?”

Vir ground his teeth. “How many?”

Greesha’s face fell. Her words hadn’t gotten through. “About twenty dead. Fifty more injured. We won’t have accurate figures for a few days, most probably.”

“I see,” Vir said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Who were they?”

“Half rebels. The others… well, either they couldn’t get to a shelter in time, or they chose not to. Those I wouldn’t worry about. Not even the gods can cure idiocy.”

“Any Chitran?” Vir asked.

“You already know that answer. Don’t you?” Greesha said.

“I suppose I do,” Vir said bitterly, leaving the orphanage building.

Not a single Chitran would have perished. While Vir took no pleasure in death, it meant the Chitran guards had forsaken their duty. Just as the rebels said they would. They’d hidden safely within the keep, sacrificing innocent civilians to the horde.

This has to change.

Yet, as desperately as Vir wanted a coup, now was not the time. Rebelling now would only result in terrible bloodshed, and the ones to suffer the most would be the ones he was trying to save.

But things couldn’t stand as they were.

“Where are you going?” Greesha asked.

Vir donned his featureless black mask.

“To ensure their deaths weren’t in vain.”