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Kaine had never liked the concept of hope. Perhaps as a child, the feeling had been productive. It kept the wrongness of reality at bay, he’d heard. Gave a reason to live when nothing tangible remained.
He never recalled it having this effect for him. It was absurd. The idea of allowing the mind to expect the ideal, to wish and that wish be granted–it was ludicrous.
It was far better to expect nothing and subsequently receive it. That mentally altered nothing. It was gray and dull and safe. To have anything of color where the monochromatic lived would be distracting.
Forehead pressing against the window, Kaine let his gaze drift to the roses amongst the rolls of weeds and thorns below.
Liar, he told himself. You hope and wish just as much as any other fool.
Shiseo had warned him. Time after time he’d come to Spirefell to ensure Kaine had no questions about the assignment. It was easy enough, Kaine would be an idiot to have questions about the semantics of it. He didn’t understand why the boy continued to come and repeat himself. Afterall, he clearly misunderstood the orders himself.
“Marino is in Central,” had been the first thing out of Shiseo’s mouth three days ago. “And she remembers nothing.”
Kaine had stopped listening after that. Mad. The boy had finally gone mad after fourteen months of nothing but hope. He’d continued, even after Kaine had waved him away. He insisted Marino was alive and Morrough wanted transference to start immediately.
“I managed to convince them the Eternal Flame figured out how to vivisect a soul. The doctor there–he was sure Marino did it to herself, erasing the memories. No one believed him. I…I didn’t want them to believe him.”
“What are you going on about, Shiseo?” Kaine had just returned from a hunt, still reeking of blood and slicked with sweat. “Vivimancy on a mind, on a soul, isn’t possible.”
“You’ve done it.” Shiseo had placed a bag down in front of Kaine. Leather, smelling of antiseptic and something else that roused a slumbering ache in his chest. “And you’ve taught it, too.”
When he’d looked inside, there was a pair of manacles. An older model, not the kind they utilized now to suppress the alchemist’s full resonance. He’d glared up at Shiseo. “What are you saying?”
“She’s alive, Ferron. She’s alive and is coming to Spirefell.”
Hope did such a thing. It drove people mad.
Morrough had not given as many details as Shiseo. The High Necromancer had instructed Kaine to extract memories from the incoming prisoner at any cost. That whoever they were, they held sensitive and perhaps remarkable information locked inside their head—perhaps they would know who was still out there acting for the resistance.
Kaine had almost laughed. He highly doubted that.
So, the assignment had perplexed him. He was unable to register it as more than a joke. Shiseo, in his delirium, had seen…her…in another. Perhaps the prisoner was a healer too and that had been enough for the boy’s mind to make the confusion.
Would they have the same hair? The same brown eyes and soft touch?
Kain pushed off the window.
No.
Of course not.
Because he would find Helena. Not a guard, not a doctor, not a routine check in at Central.
Kaine would.
“High Reeve?” A knock rapped at the door behind him. “We have arrived with the prisoner.”
His fingers twitched. Just another prisoner. He’d make formalities quick and let Aurelia deal with them. Maybe having another warm body in Spirefell would distract her and Kaine could finally have some peace. Not that he visited his childhood home often, but it would be nice not to have a loud, shrill shadow when he did.
It was for the better that he didn't bother with her. Just as he despised hope, awakening it in others was unpleasant all the same.
Another set of knocks. “High Reeve?”
“Enter, Stroud.”
Doctor Irmgard Stroud always looked like she tried exceptionally hard to appear comfortable in her skin. Her posture was rigid, blue eyes never quite settling on those she spoke to. From the times they’d shared conversation, Kaine thought she was correct in feeling like an imposter.
Bracing his hands on the windowsill, Kaine focused on a spot above her head, to a set of green eyes trembling around above the door. He could have used the eyes to see who they’d brought. But that would mean he was curious. And out of everything Bennet had made him, curiosity had not been a quality he’d deemed profitable, it seemed. Kaine glanced at Stroud instead. “Have Aurelia show them to their rooms.”
“I do think it’s of utmost importance for you to meet her as soon as possible.” She clasped her hands together. “The High Necromancer said–”
“I know what Murrough said.” It took effort for Kaine to draw in any productive air. It got stuck in his throat, stuttered in his chest.
You’re nervous, said a small voice inside his head.
One day he’d get that voice and drain it dry of any agency. Nervous? No. Kaine was cunning. Calculating, devoted and determined. Ruthless, unfailing, unyielding. Unhesitating. Perhaps he needed sleep. He got little of that anymore.
“Shiseo mentioned this prisoner was..presumed dead,” Kaine said. “Who made such a mistake?”
Stroud sighed, raising her hand to her forehead. “It was an unfortunate mistake in record keeping. Helena Marino was dead, according to one record, then eligible for stasis in another.” She cleared her throat. “The responsible individual has been punished.”
Helena Marino.
Helena Marino.
Helena.
Her name pulsed like a second heartbeat at his temples. Another Helena, then. Perhaps another from outside of Paladia, or someone using her name to remain a ghost.
Kaine had looked everywhere. Behind every hill, in every marsh, across each untraveled path and abandoned home–in Central, in the Outpost. Anywhere Amaris could reach they’d gone.
There was no conceivable way this Helena was his Helena.
Kaine paced before the window, jaw tensing and relaxing while he fought against the need to confirm this was a misunderstanding and end the added suffering he didn’t know he could even feel more of. “And where was she, then?”
Stroud huffed a laugh. “Hidden away in a stasis tank. Can you believe that? She may hold sensitive intelligence from the Eternal Flame and was forgotten in a tank, all because Mandl–”
“Bring her in.” His voice was far away. “I don’t wish to prolong your stay.”
Her mouth clamped shut mid sentence, but she gave a small bow. “Of course.”
Stasis. Inside a tank. Kaine tasted copper.
Fucking useless fool.
He returned to the window, wishing a fall from this height would kill him. But it wouldn’t. Nothing would and that was the problem. Even if he wanted to try creative ways—he had prior commitments.
A fool, maybe, but Kaine wasn’t a liar.
He knew it was Aurelia that entered by her heavy steps. “She’s quite unremarkable,” she said. “What I’d expect from Resistance garbage.” A chair screeched as she pulled it from its spot at the table.
Kaine said nothing. Didn’t so much as look her way. His gaze remained on the roses below.
There was another set of footsteps, multiple ones.
They stopped and no one said a word.
Hope. It thundered inside his chest, but instead of being soothing, it ached. It was a vine of thorns wrapped around his heart. The faster it beat, the more it bled.
Kaine turned.
The invisible noose around his throat tightened.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Helena was a shell of herself. She was small, and thin and her hair was tied back in that way he hated. The gown they’ve given her hung sizes too big, and her eyes—
He’d kill them. He didn’t know who, but he would. Every single person, breathing or dead, would bear the greatest grief he could conjure on sight.
Kaine would make them pay. Everyone who’d contributed to keeping her— his Helena— in a stasis tank for over a year would suffer.
Himself included.
He searched for any glimmer or recognition in her glare. He found none that mattered.
“The last member of the Order of the Eternal Flame for you, High Reeve,” Stroud said, a proud gleam in her eyes. “I believe you knew each other at the Alchemy Institute.”
He looked away. He had to. “Hardly.”
“I know you’ve made preparations,” Stroud sat, reviving her act now that there was an audience, “but I wouldn’t worry much; she has no training or combat experience to speak of. She’ll be quite manageable for you.”
He looked at Helena again.
He’d thought the same when he’d first seen her at the Outpost. The assumption had proven a gross underestimation. She may have had no combat training, but her wit and vivimancy had made her the opposite of manageable.
Kaine wondered if her muscles would remember their training—the body often held on to things memory tended to discard. “I’m sure.”
Stroud nodded, clearly uncomfortable with his lack of engagement. But if Kaine said anymore, he didn’t know if he’d ever stop speaking.
“Now then,” Stroud continued, “The High Necromancer wishes to have results before the winter solstice. Per his commands, you’re to perform the temporary transference method upon her as frequently as possible to achieve singularity without extinguishing her soul. Once that is accomplished and you’ve accustomed yourself to her mind, I believe that reversing the transmutations of her memory should be a small matter for you. You may examine what’s concealed, and when it’s done, I’ll come to retrieve her. The High Necromancer intends to extract the memories as well.”
Kaine gave a curt nod, mind reeling. He truly would have to be in her head. It was different before, Helena had, though vaguely, consented then eventually became quite adept and veiling her mental pathways. Never quite as perfect as Kaine had hoped for her sake, but she’d been brilliant to catch such an old trick.
Stroud cleared her throat, recentering his thoughts. “I’m sure you know, but this is an absolute priority. All other obligations should be considered secondary until completion.”
Aurelia made a shrill noise. “You mean, we really have to keep her? I just don’t see how it’s fair. She’s not even Paladian. Why can’t she stay at the Outpost with the rest of them? Why are we keeping her here? I had all these parties planned this season. I’ve already had to cancel three dinners and make up excuses about why. No one asked me if I wanted a prisoner.” Each complaint had her voice rising in pitch, and Kaine swore his eardrums may burst if she continued. “And what is she wearing? If anyone sees her, it’ll be all anyone talks about.”
He stifled a groan. “Shut up, Aurelia.”
He needed a drink. A drink and for everyone to leave Spirefell so he could properly process the horrors to come.
“I—wasn’t sure what clothes would be appropriate,” continued Stroud. “Of course, you don’t have to keep her in that. It was simply what was on hand.”
Wind rolled against the house, shaking it with a howl. It startled both Stroud and Helena.
“It’s hardly a concern.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure we’ll find something for her to wear. Aurelia has so much.”
Kaine knew the thought of her sharing her luxuries would irk her. It was lovely to return some of the annoyance he often felt around her.
“You want me to give her my clothes?” Aurelia protested.
No, I want her as far away from you and anything inside this infernal manor.
Kaine shrugged. “We don’t want anyone mistaking her for staff. Unless you prefer I have something made?”
Gasping, Aurelia looked away, as if she was a scolded, petulant child.
“Excellent,” Stroud said. “Now then, you’re free to examine her, High Reeve. She’s all yours.” She gestured towards Helena.
Kaine’s chest tightened, his breath catching.“Here?”
“Just a preliminary exam, to see if you have questions before I go. Do you—prefer privacy?”
He preferred not doing this at all. Kaine was torn between wanting a moment alone with Helena, to ask what it was she remembered and what the fuck had happened the night she’d left. There had to be something, some memory other vivimancers would not catch but he could.
At the same time, Kaine wanted to leave it alone. Let her live with gaps and grant her the freedom he could.
A life without the agony that had been the last two years.
He stepped towards Helena. “No. You’re welcome to watch.”
She studied him with deep confusion. Shadows marred her beautiful skin, and hollow marks were etched around where the stasis mask was. The sight of her, so brittle and different, ignited such an anger. Not at her—never at her.
He pulled off a glove and reached for her, blood rushing. Would his fingers slide through her? Perhaps she was an apparition. Perhaps this was a nightmare of sorts.
When Helena flinched back, Kaine stopped short.
He’s been so eager to touch her. To put it all to rest.
But of course she was scared. Shiseo has said memory loss, but the extent of it remained a mystery. She’d veiled enough to save herself….to, from what he could tell, keep his own identity a secret.
Don’t be afraid, he wanted to tell her. Please.
Kaine let his resonance seep from his skin, gently wrapping it over Helena to still her. It was barely anything, a mere droplet of what he’d used on her during their earlier meetings. Still, she struggled against it.
The state of her body was horrifying. Even without meaning to, Kaine sank into it, cataloging every fissure of bone and wound and ache that shouldn’t be there. None of it should be there.
Helena shouldn’t have been there.
It was strange to feel both relief and pure agony that this woman was, in fact, the Helena Marino Kaine had promised to always find and come back for.
His Helena.
When his index finger graced her temple, the jolt was like a live wire.
The room blurred and Kaine was inside her mind, flipping through her thoughts and collections of moments. There had to be something that could be helpful. Something to give insight to who had done this, who’d she’d commandeered to accomplish such a feat.
Memories of the moment she’d arrived at Spirefell, the pull from the Stasis tank and all the… atrocities in between. Kaine didn’t know where he ended and Helena began, save for the thorny grip of guilt that accompanied his own essence.
Helena’s only had…pain. Hollow, and fractured pain.
Kaine flipped through the memories carefully, wondering what it was she felt so desperate to protect. He’d expected to find how she’d been put in Stasis, but found nothing. Not how or why or when she’d been put there—there was nothing of interest at all.
Shifts at the hospital, endless counting of storage items. Holdfast. So much of Holdfast and Bayard.
There was only one peculiarity that intrigued him enough to keep from ripping his hand away from the images of the Eternal Flame: Kaine himself was absent.
Everywhere.
Since the High Necromancer hadn’t had his head yet, Kaine knew at least some of Helena’s past with him was concealed. But it wasn’t just concealed.
It was gone.
His hand dropped, limp.
Gone.
Had their shared moments been so painful…or had they been so sacred?
He stared down at Helena, not quite knowing what to say. He settled on a measly, “Well.”
“Extraordinary, isn’t it?” Stroud said
“Quite.” Kaine raised a brow. “The war is over. What is it you think you’re protecting in that brain of yours?”
Helena, please. Please.
He could see the answer in her brown eyes. The image of Luc Holdfast, laughing, smiling. Getting to see all the tenderness of Helena while Kaine had only gotten scraps for so long.
What would have they become, he and Helena, had they met under the same circumstances as with Holdfast?
It was a rhetorical thought. Because Kaine had always been cursed and sodden and would never be what Luc Holdfast was to her, not even the farce portrayal currently in her thoughts.
“Holdfast is dead,” he said sharply, unable to keep the venom from his tone. “The Eternal Flame extinguished. There’s no one left for you to save.” Kaine needed to leave. The skin on his arms itched, the pit in his stomach begging to yell, or punch, or drown in bitter spirits.
He turned away, looking at Stoud. “Anything else?”
She shook her head.
Kaine released Helena fully from his resonance, realizing all too late that she had struggled against it the whole time. Without his resonance to hold her, Helena fell to her knees, barely catching herself with her hands.
Kaine tasted blood at the force of his grimace.
Somewhere on the sidelines, Aurelia laughed.
“You met with Shiseo and went over everything several times before he left, I believe,” he heard Stroud saying. “After the first session, I’ll send someone for appraisal, so we can establish a timeline for results.”
“Yes, this plan has all been laid out for me in excruciating detail. I’ll get it done.” Kaine couldn’t tell if it was him speaking or a ghost, though he might as well be one all the same. His body moved despite given no orders to, as if it knew it needed a respite before combustion. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
His legs stepped over Helena, eyes trained on the exit, on the door—any door.
It was a damning thought, but as Kaine Ferron left behind the woman he loved within the jaws of beasts, he mused that whatever Hell was would be a tender relief compared to how cruel his life had been.