Chapter 129 129
Amarien's POV
“What do you want?” I snapped without turning fully at first. “I told you not to come near my son’s shrine.”
I felt my voice shaken from fury sharpened by grief.
Slowly, I rose to my feet and turned around.
And there she was.
The curse upon the North.
The Scarlet Witch.
She stood beneath the fractured moonlight, draped in a crimson cloak that seemed almost wet in its richness. The fabric pooled around her boots like spilled blood. Her hair was long, impossibly red, spilling over her shoulders in loose waves, catching the light like fire. A delicate mask concealed the upper half of her face, carved in dark lacquer, hiding everything but her mouth.
That mouth curved faintly as she regarded me.
As if this were all a mild inconvenience.
Her gaze drifted past me to the shrine.
To the wooden baby at its center.
She tilted her head slightly.
“It doesn’t matter, Amarien,” she said lightly. “I can’t hurt a dead baby.”
The words sliced clean through me.
“Shut it,” I hissed instantly, stepping forward. “Do not speak about him.”
My hands were shaking again, but I refused to let her see weakness.
“No matter how you try to get under my skin,” I continued, lifting my chin, “you will never.”
Her shoulders trembled.
Then she threw her head back and laughed.
The sound was musical in a way that made it worse.
“Oh?” she said once her laughter faded. “Never?”
She stepped closer, boots brushing over fallen petals I had placed so carefully.
“I saw you tonight.”
My breath stilled.
She lifted one gloved finger and traced an invisible line in the air between us.
“I saw how your eyes lit up when you heard the emperor’s son is blind.”
My stomach dropped.
“That flicker,” she went on softly. “That spark of satisfaction.”
Her lips curved again.
“You were radiant for a moment.”
My gaze whipped to her fully now, heart pounding.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” she asked sweetly.
Her head tilted again, studying me as if I were the more fascinating creature.
“I’ve watched you for longer than you think.”
The air felt thinner.
“You’ve fed your hatred carefully,” she continued. “Nurtured it. Watered it with tears.”
She took another slow step closer.
“And when you heard that little Ares would never see the sun…”
She leaned in just enough that her voice brushed against my ear like silk over a blade.
“You glowed.”
My hands curled into fists. “Stoppit!”
Yet, the thought crashed into me all at once.
The blindness.
The curse.
The certainty in Daevir’s voice.
My heart began to pound so violently that I thought she must hear it.
“You did this?” I demanded.
The question came out half-breathless.
Half-horrified.
For a suspended second, she said nothing.
Then, she gave a slow, deliberate nod.
My stomach twisted.
“You…” My voice faltered. “You cursed his son?”
Her fingers brushed against the edge of her cloak as if smoothing invisible wrinkles.
Then she stepped back slightly and gave a small, exaggerated bow.
“For you, my Luna.”
The words fell between us like a stone into still water.
“I will do anything,” she said venomous gee.
My eyes widened.
“I thought,” she continued, “that if the North tasted even a fraction of what you lost… You might find it satisfying.”
Her masked gaze held mine steadily.
“A father watching his child suffer,” she murmured. “It seemed poetic.”
My throat tightened.
“You had no right,” I whispered.
She smiled faintly.
“Rights are for the powerless.”
My mind reeled.
Daevir believed I had done it.
He marched an army because of it.
He looked at me as if I were a monster.
And all along…It was her.
“You’ve destroyed everything,” I breathed.
“Have I?” she asked calmly. “Or have I simply revealed what was already broken?”
My pulse roared in my ears.
“You used me!” I said. “You made him think it was me!”
She shrugged lightly.
“I honored your grief.”
Her eyes, hidden behind that mask, felt like they were piercing straight through my skull.
“You wanted him to hurt,” she said quietly. “I only obliged.”
I recoiled from her as if her very presence burned.
“I will never be a part of you harming children,” I said, my voice shaking but loud enough to carry through the clearing. “No child deserves to suffer for the sins of their parents.”
The words felt fragile the moment they left me, fragile, but true.
The Scarlet Witch did not flinch.
“Yet you suffered for yours,” she replied smoothly. “And your child… your little son did, did he not?”
My breath hitched.
The shrine blurred at the edges of my vision. I turned away from her, unable to endure the sight of that masked face as she spoke of him. I would not let her see my tears. I would not give her that satisfaction.
But my eyes betrayed me anyway.
They burned.
My son had suffered. He had paid for wars he did not wage. For blood he did not spill. For hatred, he did not understand.
And I had been powerless.
The Scarlet Witch’s boots crunched softly against the earth as she approached me from behind. I felt her nearness like a shadow pressing against my spine.
“You deserve vengeance,” she murmured.
“You deserve retribution.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Just say the word,” she continued. “And I will do it.”
I turned halfway toward her, my brows drawn tight.
Her hidden eyes gleamed behind that mask.
“Tell me to end Ares’s life for good,” she said simply.
“I have appealed to you for weeks now,” she went on, her tone patient, almost indulgent. “All I need is your voice. Your command. And Ares will be dead.”
The world seemed to still.
The wind quieted.
The leaves stilled.
Even my heartbeat felt suspended between beats.
All I need is your voice.
So little.
So easy.
I imagined it.
Daevir, standing helplessly beside his son’s bed.
Hearing the final breath leave that small body.
Feeling his world split open the way mine had.
I imagined him breaking.
I imagined him falling to his knees the way I had.
It was tempting.
Gods, it was tempting!
The thought coiled inside me like a serpent.
He would finally understand.
He would finally feel the hollow ache that never leaves. The emptiness that claws at you in the quiet hours. The madness that comes from knowing you could not protect your own child.
I wanted him to suffer.
I wanted him to taste despair so bitter it burned his tongue.
For a moment, just a moment, I saw it clearly.
His grief.
His ruin.
And I wanted it.
The realization made me feel sick.
Because if I spoke the words… it would happen.
Ares would die.
And Daevir would crumble.
The Scarlet Witch stepped closer, sensing the shift in me.
“You see it, don’t you?” she whispered. “Justice.”
I looked at the wooden baby. I want justice. I do.
My son’s face rose in my mind.
Laughing.
Reaching for me with chubby hands.
Trusting and innocent.
If someone had stood over him and judged him guilty for my sins…
If someone had decided his life was payment for my choices…
The thought tore through me like claws.
I want this.
My gaze snapped back to the Scarlet Witch.
She was waiting. Expectant and hungry.
“Say it,” she urged softly.
I saw then what this truly was.
If I gave the order, I would be bound to her forever.
Every death.
Every curse.
Every scream.
It would carry my name.
And I would become the very monster the world believes me to be.
My chest rose and fell unevenly.
I lifted my chin. My gaze locked onto hers.
And I gave her a blunt answer.
“No.”