Chapter 43: My Story
"Think about it," Cassian said. "The clan disliked you and your family, sure. But your bloodline was supposed to keep the chief's seat. They knew your father would take the title, and still they turned on him. That doesn't happen by itself. Someone staged a coup."
"By the clan?" Calhoun asked, leaning in.
"No."
Calhoun, who had thought he was finally following, felt the thread slip out of his hands. "Now you've lost me."
"My guess is that someone was working from behind the scenes," Cassian said. "Someone poisoned the minds of everyone in the village, slowly and patiently. Your grandfather was the last chain holding the clan back. When he died, the chain snapped, and all that anger and greed turned on your family at once."
It was only speculation, but as Calhoun listened, the pieces of his own past began sliding into place. The clan had hated him and his father, yes. But they had also worshipped his grandfather, and they would never have broken tradition so easily unless someone had pushed them to.
He didn't want to believe it. He turned to the mage across from him with a hard look.
"Can you prove any of this?"
"No," Cassian said calmly. "I can't."
"Then you can't just go around making accusations..."
"I'm not accusing anyone." Cassian waved a hand. "It's what I would have done if I were hungry for power."
Calhoun fell silent.
Years ago he had sworn never to return, and he had kept that vow. In his mind, Cassian was probably wrong. But a quiet voice inside him had begun to ask questions, and it wouldn't stop. The peace he had built around that old wound felt thinner than it had an hour ago, and his curiosity about what had really happened that night was awake again.
" Do I really want to trust the word of a stranger?" Calhoun asked inwardly,
He knew the answer. Sooner or later he would have to go back. He couldn't run forever.
"All right," he said, forcing a lighter tone. "Let's put that aside. Let's talk about you."
Cassian saw exactly what he was doing and had a sharp remark ready. He kept it to himself.
"Me?"
"You." Calhoun leaned back against the wall. He had been straight with Cassian, and the mage across from him had fascinated him from the start: the strange lack of presence, the odd way he cast, the sheer amount of raw power, and a mind like a blade. "I'm curious. What would bring someone with your talent into this line of work?"
A faint smile touched Cassian's lips. "What if I said I'm a battle junkie chasing thrills?"
"Which kind?" Calhoun shot back. "The thrill of dying, or the thrill of finally getting yourself killed?"
For a heartbeat they stared at each other, and then both men burst out laughing. The sound echoed off the cramped stone walls and swallowed some of the gloom.
Calhoun wiped his eyes. "But seriously. You're sharp. The way you saw through my act was impressive. With a mind like yours, you could be at the top of whatever you did. A merchant, maybe. You could make a fortune, become a noble, and live in luxury. So why this?"
Cassian didn't answer.
"What's your story?"
The question caught him off guard. He couldn't understand why this stranger cared so much. Part of him wanted to wave it off and say nothing, the way he always did. Another part, tired and raw from the long fight and the forbidden spell, was too worn out to keep the wall up. He weighed it for a long moment while Calhoun waited in suspense.
In the end, the tired part won.
"My story isn't so different from yours," he said quietly. "A boy born in a small town, treated differently from everyone else. But where you found safety and love with the people you call family, I found nothing but hate, rejection, and loneliness."
"Wait. What?" Calhoun stared at him.
Cassian didn't stop. The memories were already rising, one after another, and his voice grew louder and sadder with each word.
"The constant humiliation. The insults. The fear. They reduced me to nothing. I strived for love, for a parent's love, for the bond of being part of a family. I did everything right. And all I ever got in return was insults." His breath caught. "Slowly, painfully, they squeezed every drop of light out of that little boy."
Tears were running down his cheeks now. His eyes were red, his breathing ragged. Calhoun watched, frozen. The pain was written all over Cassian's face, raw and unguarded. The word surfaced in his mind without his asking for it.
*Trauma.*
Then the memory of the dinner three months ago crashed in on Cassian, and his face twisted with anger. His hands curled into fists, the knuckles white.
"The idea of family means nothing to me," he said through his teeth. "At the end of that road there's only pain."
Calhoun looked at the tears, the shaking hands, the rage buried inside the grief, and his chest tightened. He tore his gaze away and turned toward the wall, his face heavy with shame.
*I did this. I never should have asked.*
"I'm sorry," he said.
Author note:
Any word you see between
*. *
Is what the characters are saying in thier minds, I'm trying to cut down on my previous writing style
He said inwardly.
So seat back and enjoy.