24: To Find One's Purpose

                                    

                                          
"You are no longer bound to Neverin. Please, go wherever your heart desires."
                          
He wiped the tears off Maren's cheeks. She felt her world shatter with each stroke of his thumb over her face. 
                          
"You didn't have to," she said, her voice breaking. 
                          
He could not even smile. But when he met her eyes, she noticed the centuries of pain and anguish that had finally flickered away. He was simply a guilt-ridden and tired young man that had to grow up far too soon. "I do not believe that any of us have to stay where we are," he said. "I believe that we can change. I believe in you." 
                          
"Jin," she cried, "I'm so sorry." 
                          
He hugged her, his chin resting on her head. "What are you mourning? You are free." He spoke through her hair. "I obviously cannot give you the mirror--," he chuckled, "--but I can send you with gold and whatever you need."
                          
"What if I--," she stopped herself. 
                          
What if I don't want to leave?
                          
What if I need your help?
                          
What if I can't go back?
                          
"Yes?" he asked.
                          
"Nothing," she said, standing up and fixing herself. It was too much to hold herself together. Especially too much to watch him be so oblivious to the instrument she carried underneath the folds of her gown. But her fury found direction. So did her fear. 
                          
"I have to go," she said suddenly.
                          
A flicker of sadness went through his slouch and voice. "I..." Maren pleaded inwardly for him not to finish, to let her go. He said, "I see."
                          
"I'm sorry, I just--"
                          
There was no use in telling him.
                          
"Thank you," she said, curtsying briefly before running from the balcony. The weight of the gown slowed her down against the wind, but she trudged onward, grateful that the ballroom doors did not need to be touched to open. As she fled, the sound of screams echoed alongside her thunderous heartbeat. 
                          
The dark halls were desolate, but they suddenly made sense. Things were ruined from a stampede of fae running for their lives. Things were slashed through with swords. Jin wandered these halls with the memory of that--he likely took out his anger on everything that still stood. 
                          
It almost broke her to think that he spent years of his life remembering death when the sun rose.
                          
She arrived at the room of mirrors, surprised to find the door not closed all the way. As she shoved inside, she closed it behind her and ran to the largest one. 
                          
"You lied to me!" 
                          
Maren let it out, the lullaby of a massacre playing its song in her memories. "You lied," she said, so much fire in her veins that all she could do was weep. When she could no longer stand, her knees fell to the floor, her head falling to the stone bricks. "How could you?! The Fae cannot lie! Is this untrue?"
                          
No one answered her call. Maren was too afraid to look into the mirror.
                          
"I cannot kill him. I will not." 
                          
That voice, the one from the ballroom, replied cynically. "A bargain is a bargain, faithful servant."

                          
Maren winced at those last words. "I am not your servant," she replied, finally peering into the glass. 
                          
Faine loomed above her, staring down through her mask. "The line you sliced through your skin says differently. I hold the will of your life, do you understand?"