Chapter 41: The Great War
In the second great war between humans and demons, both sides fought for survival. One wanted to destroy, the other to preserve and protect. When the tide of battle turned, it was the demons who fell, once again. To survive, some withdrew into hiding, and others took human form and walked quietly among their enemies.
In those quiet years the two races mingled, and something new was born.
It was a forbidden love and an unnatural union, and it upset the balance between good and evil. The child of that union had all the strengths of a demon and none of its weaknesses. They were called demi-humans.
Humans thought them too monstrous to be called human. Demons thought them too tainted to be called demon. They belonged nowhere, so they hid from both, living in fear.
Considering them far too powerful to leave unchecked, King Henric the Third decreed that every demi-human be hunted down and killed, and every other king agreed. The demons saw the unrest that followed and seized it as their chance for victory. The third great war began, and the slaughter with it.
It ended in bloodshed. Humanity won, but the toll on its people was so terrible that neither the first war nor the second came close.
To the demons, it was not truly a loss.
After the war, some nations offered demi-humans a place in society as a symbol of peace. Others refused. Those who accepted lived among humans and endured the insults for the chance at a better life. The rest withdrew into the wilderness, where they lived in quiet isolation.
---
"Yes," Calhoun said. "I'm a demi-human."
The words dropped into the sealed cave, and nothing answered them. The violet glow of Cassian's card flickered across the rough walls, and the dust seemed to hang in the air, afraid to settle. Somewhere beyond the rubble, stone shifted with a low groan.
Calhoun kept his eyes on Cassian. He had spoken those words aloud only a handful of times in his life, and every time he had braced for the blow that followed. His fingers tightened around the shaft of his spear. The silence stretched until he couldn't bear it.
"So?"
"So what?" Cassian said.
"You're not going to report me to the authorities?" Calhoun asked, startled by his own question.
"Why would I?" Cassian tilted his head. "And what makes you think they don't already know?"
Calhoun blinked. " If they know, why haven't they said anything? Why did they let me start the trial?" He turned the thought over and over. He knew exactly what happened to a demi-human caught in a human village or town: torture, then the stake. In the imperial capital it would be worse.
"Maybe they're testing you," Cassian said, and Calhoun's gaze snapped back to him.
"Your canines are a dead giveaway. The capital is known for beheading demi-humans, and I won't pretend otherwise. But a demi-human trying for the S-rank trial? They'd find that very interesting, and so do I." He shifted against the wall, wincing. "Like me, they might be willing to give you a chance. If you succeed, it would be a huge step toward a future where demi-humans are treated as equals."
Calhoun said nothing. All his life he had lived under the pretense of being human, and he had heard plenty of strangers voice their hatred or their fear of his kind. Hardly anyone had ever offered him a chance. Most had offered him a blade.
And here was a tired young mage in a black cloak, barely able to sit upright, offering exactly that, as if it were a small thing.
Calhoun searched for words and found none. His throat felt tight, and he looked down at his scarred hands so that Cassian wouldn't see his eyes.
Cassian let out a long, weary sigh and let his head rest against the rock.
"What a burden," he muttered.
---