Chapter 189 Sleep

Chapter 189 Sleep
Lucien’s POV, 

Sleep comes easily and peacefully when I leave the library, which is exactly why I know something is wrong.

Dreams don’t come peacefully ever. Even without the nightmares, as a master of illusions, I find it hard to decipher reality from them. Except when I’m with Elara, on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. 

Yet here I am.

Standing beneath crystal chandeliers. The ballroom is unfamiliar, though somehow I know exactly where I am.

The Church.

Not the prison or the laboratories where my life changed forever.

It’s the ceremonial wing.

Candles stretch endlessly down polished marble, and their flames reflect against gold-lined walls. Choir music drifts somewhere in the distance, soft enough to sound holy, but cold enough to sound rehearsed.

I am fourteen, or fifteen, but young enough that my suit still hangs awkwardly from my shoulders.

Father stands beside me, and his hand grips my shoulder so tightly my bones ache.

“Stand up straight, boy.”

I obey.

“Smile.”

I obey again, and he leans closer.

“If you embarrass me…” His voice lowers. “...I’ll make you wish the Church had killed you.”

The words don’t surprise me; if anything, I’m disappointed. He really should get creative with his insults. 

Across the hall, priests dressed in white begin speaking, and one of them unrolls a scroll.

“The Holy Council recognizes the survival of Subject Thirteen.”

Just another experiment that refused to die.

“The covenant between the Church and the Kórvac bloodline shall continue.” Another name follows, and it’s one I haven’t heard in years. “The chosen bride…” The priest smiles. “...Isla Virelli.”

Silence settles across the hall, and Father’s grip tightens. I don’t understand why until I look at him. He’s furious, and his jaw clenches so hard I think he’ll crack a tooth.

The ceremony ends after a few minutes (who am I kidding?), hours, and the priests leave.

The moment we’re alone, his hand collides with my face. The slap sends me sprawling across polished marble.

“You useless animal.”

Blood fills my mouth, and I spit it out.

“What have you done?” He snaps, running his hand through his head. “They tied you to the Virellis.” He spits the family name like poison. “You should’ve died.” Another kick lands against my ribs. “Now they want to control us by doing this.” He grabs my hair, pulling me up, and I hiss in pain. 

“You are a curse to this family.”

I cast an illusion over myself. Suddenly, my father is holding me instead of kicking me. He’s crying, apologizing, and telling me he never wanted this.

He is explaining why he despises the Church with every piece of himself. Why the thought of me being bound to the one family the Church truly owns makes him sick. Why he’d rather die than watch me become another sacrifice.

I let myself believe it, just for a moment. But who am I trying to deceive besides myself?

The illusion cracks, then shatters, and the warmth disappears. His arms vanish, and his tears were never there.

Darkness rushes back in, and reality returns with it. He throws me to the ground, doesn’t look back or hesitate.

He simply leaves me there.

Time moves.

From days to weeks, to months. I never meet Isla, and I don’t even know what she looks like.

I only know her name.

Sometimes, when Father leaves with Levi and the mansion finally falls quiet, I create someone.

A girl about my age.

Someone with kind eyes and a patient smile. Someone who laughs softly enough that it never echoes through the halls.

We go on dates that never happened, walk through cities I’ve never seen, and sit beneath trees that don’t exist.

I tell her everything.

About Father. About the Church. About the days I wonder if dying would be easier than waking up again.

She listens without interrupting, as though none of it makes me difficult to love. Sometimes I tell her about Levi, and how I wish I could take him away from all of this.

Sometimes I tell her about Isolde, and how she deserves a childhood instead of a cage.

I promise her that one day I’ll save them both, and she always believes me. She tells me we’ll leave together someday. That she'll wait for me, and that forever isn’t as impossible as everyone says.

So I let myself believe her.

I let myself pretend there is a world where someone chooses me first, where I am not Reuben Kórvac’s weapon or the Church’s experiment.

Not a mistake waiting to happen.

Just...

Lucien.

Then the bedroom door opens.

Father is home, and the illusion disappears before he even reaches me. Only cold stone remains.

And I remember, as I always do, that I was never talking to anyone. I was only trying to survive until morning.

A year later, Father is whispering with some people in a fake-consolation tone, and that’s how I hear it for the first time:

VIRELLI FAMILY MASSACRED

Every member confirmed dead, and there are no survivors. Among the names— Isla Virelli.

Something inside my chest caves in, not because I loved her- I mean, I never knew her.

But because she was supposed to be my way out.

The Church wanted her and Father hated the arrangement. If we’d married, I would’ve left this house, him, and all of this.

She’s gone.

And so is my escape.

One year later, and I’m older now. I think, seventeen. No, sixteen, and a single backpack rests over my shoulder.

Money, fake documents, and a gun while headed to one destination. The Seraph.

If the Church owns me, then I’ll offer myself to their enemy. Anything to stop being a Kórvac.

I remember leaving and running. I remember abandoning the backpack after the chains on my foot and neck were pulling me down. I remember the relief on my face when I reached the cliffs of The Seraph. Then—

There’s suddenly a sharp and violent pain in my head, causing me to jolt awake with a gasp. It explodes behind my eyes so suddenly that I stagger backwards, nearly falling off my stool. 

My vision fractures, and the memories begin tearing themselves apart. Everything disappears and ends.

Like someone ripped the pages from a book.

I fall on my knees, gasping. My head throbs with the exact pain that comes every single time I try remembering why I killed Levi and my father.

And that’s how I am certain that something happened at the Seraph. I know it did. I also know I made it there and mother brought me back.

But… What happened in between?

My fingers press against my temple until it hurts.

Nothing.

Just blankness, and a hole. A piece of my life that’s simply gone. I kneel there for several minutes, trying again.

Still nothing but pain.

Frustration floods my chest, and everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours comes flooding back. Yesterday was the anniversary of Levi and my father’s death. Viktor. The operation. Elara.

Now she knows about Levi, and she won’t tell me how. Viktor won’t tell me why.

And now…  I can’t even trust my own mind.

I laugh once like a mad man, and stand up. 

“Wonderful.”

The whiskey glass sitting on the bar suddenly looks far too intact. Before I realize what I’m doing, I throw it, and it smashes against the wall with a violent crack, glass exploding across the floor.

Heavy and oppressive silence returns.

I stare at the shattered pieces. Somewhere inside them, my reflection stares back in dozens of broken fragments.

None of them feel complete.

With a tired sigh, I rake a hand through my hair, grab my jacket from the chair, and walk out of the room.

Because sitting still isn’t going to give me back the memories someone—or something—has stolen from me.