The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415

Chapter 413: False Memories

CECILIA

My entire body quaked with convulsions that I couldn’t suppress as the power within me clawed and hammered its way out. Beneath me, the small bed I’d finally come to accept as my own rattled against the floorboard, the wooden frame crackling like pine needles in a fire. My eyes wouldn’t close, instead staring wide-eyed around the unadorned room, the line of their gaze determined more by wherever my head bucked and bounced than any intention of mine.

There was a furious punching sensation against the inside of my chest, and for a wild moment, I was certain the power was trying to rip its way out of me. Then I heard voices behind the heavy iron door of my room, and I realized the sensation was only my heartbeat as it gave a sickening lurch.

I wanted to shout out, tell them to go away, that there was no way they could approach. It was too much this time. I could see the ki in the air, cutting in every direction.

But the door was opening, and I could not push air through my constricted throat.

Framed within the opening, I could just make out Headmaster Wilbeck and a couple of others. Randall, the big man who helped clean up after all of us children, was leaning forward, one hand up to shield his eyes from the energy whipping around inside my room. He hesitated, and just before he forged forward, a much smaller figure darted into the room in front of him.

Nico, I thought, my heart seizing with equal parts fear and gratitude.

Nico dodged a blast of ki that hit Randall in the chest, lifting the big man up and throwing him back into the wall.

“You can’t!” I said, the words finally grinding out between my clenched teeth. “You’ll get h-hurt.”

But something was wrong. Whether caused by the storm of ki destroying the room or my own weakening sense of perception, Nico was beginning to blur—or rather, Nico stayed brightly, vibrantly clear, the clearest thing in the room, while a blurry halo surrounded him. I tried to focus, but staring at the halo made my head ache terribly.

Nico was crawling toward me, reaching out for me. I couldn’t look right at him, and so turned away, but I could still see him out of the corner of my eye. The crystal clear image of Nico and the fuzzy halo separated into two individual images.

One was Nico, clean and clear, his face set in a heroic grimace as he powered through the onslaught of ki my fit was unleashing.

The other, the blurry image, was a boy our age, sweat pouring down a face twisted in desperation as ki swelled within him.

The bed came apart, the feathers and fabric and chunks of wooden frame swirling up into the air and spiraling around me like they were trapped in a miniature tornado. I felt myself being lifted up. The two boys were as well, Nico pulled to one side, the blurry boy to the other. Every few seconds, they would overlap, becoming one figure, then burst apart again, tumbling end over end.

Then the room was coming apart, then the orphanage, as the storm of my ki grew and grew, peeling away layer after layer of the world and leaving it all bare.

Nico and the blurred boy suddenly split into dozens of copies of themselves, each slightly different, like light through a kaleidoscope. They began to fall like snowflakes, drifting down into as many overlapping scenes, pictures of my life—memories—each one played side by side, Nico—still crisp and visible—going through the same motions as the blur that moved like a shadow just behind him.

My eyes snapped open.

Leaning over, I released the pressure that had been building within me. An attendant shoved a bucket under my face just in time to catch the contents of my stomach, and someone patted my hair and cooed soft, comforting noises.

“Tell the High Sovereign she’s awake,” a disembodied voice said quietly from nearby.

Now that the dream was over, my waking mind could feel the gaps between the dual memories—places in my brain where Agrona had replaced my original memories with manufactured ones. But even acknowledging them was like sticking a finger into an open wound, triggering another wave of vomiting that made my mind go blank.

Grey, I realized, the context of the memories bleeding through the haze obscuring my mind’s eye. So much Grey in my life…so many empty holes filled in, or paved over with Nico…

Feeling a surge of nauseous panic that triggered another wave of vomiting, I tried to search my memories for the parts much later in our relationship, times I’d never fully come to terms with when seen through this body, terrified of what I would find.

But…those were intact. That was real. Our love was real.

As the nausea eased from my tired, aching body, I leaned back and closed my eyes, catching only a glimpse of the dark-haired attendant who reached out with a rag to clean my lips and chin.

“There now, love, you just relax,” she said with a hint of Vechorian lilt.

I had no sense of the passage of time, and lost all coherence as my thoughts drifted from memory to memory. I could feel the fault lines between real and manufactured memories in the same way one’s tongue feels the gap of a missing tooth. Without any direct guidance, my mind seemed to rush from memory to memory, exploring the inner depths of itself, mapping out and making sense of the shift in my awareness.

Whether a minute or an hour later, a stifling presence appeared at my side, pushing everything else away to make room for itself.

My eyes fluttered open. Agrona was at my bedside, gazing down at me with a slight frown that communicated both worry and concern.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his scarlet eyes locked onto mine. “My best doctors and healers have been to see you, and they say that, physically, you are unharmed.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him, the words feeling scratching in my throat. When the horns spreading above his head tilted slightly, I said, “Honestly. He didn’t hurt me.”

Agrona, whose hands were clasped behind his back, was entirely motionless as he asked, “Cecilia, can you tell me what you were doing in that cell block?”

I furrowed my brows, putting on a frustrated frown, and looked at my feet. “Forgive me, Agrona. I know I shouldn’t have been, but…” I trailed off as I felt the tendrils of Agrona’s magic probe my mind. Like fingers kneading the soft tissue of my consciousness, they searched out my thoughts, hunting for both truth and untruth. But…

“Go on,” he said, still motionless.

“Nico’s attendant, Draneeve, came to me…said that Nico was acting strangely, that he was obsessed with the idea that Sovereign Kiros had information we needed, something he was afraid to ask you. Draneeve said that Nico had snuck down to interrogate the Sovereign, and so I followed.”

As I spoke, I kept half my mind on the probing magic. It traced along the pathway of my thoughts and caressed the words as they formed in my head, even before they reached my tongue. I’d felt this same sensation a hundred times before, but something was different just then.

“I should have come to you and told you straight away,” I admitted, letting my eyes drift shut. “Kiro’s tried to kill me.”

Strong fingers gripped my chin and turned my head slightly. When I opened my eyes, I was staring up into Agrona’s face. “Yes, you should have. Nico was foolish not to ask me his questions directly, and you were foolish for chasing him down to save him. That is a weakness, one easily exploited by those out to do you harm, even right here in Taegrin Caelum. If you truly wish to win me my war and return to your original lives, you need to keep him safe.” Agrona’s nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. “Especially from himself. Which may mean shortening his leash.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said noncommittally.

I always found it difficult to discuss these kinds of things with Agrona. He made it sound so simple, when in reality it was anything but. Nico was sensitive, self-conscious, and prone to heroics. I knew he felt increasingly sidelined by my increasing power, something he found very difficult to manage. Not because he wanted to be the strongest or most important, but because he wanted to keep me safe.

“Where is he?” I asked, suddenly realizing that Nico hadn’t been present when I’d woken up, and what that might mean. “Nico?”

Agrona gave me an understanding smile and reached out to brush his fingers over my hair. “He’s been temporarily confined until I could gain a more complete understanding of the events with Kiros. I will see that he is released to come see you immediately. Now that I know you are unharmed, though, I’ll leave you to rest.”

He started to turn away, paused, then glanced back at me. “Although, there is one other question I should ask you.” His tone was light, curious, almost nonchalant. “Did you absorb any of Kiros’s mana when he tried to kill you?”

The probing tendrils were still in my mind, but I finally realized what was different than before: he was being reserved, limiting his use of mana.

Is it kindness, or something else? I wondered. He’d told me before how dangerous his kind of mental magic could be, if not wielded carefully and by one with appropriate control and insight.

If not for that realization, I don't think I would have had the courage to do what I did.

“No, Agrona. You had forbidden it. Even though it almost cost me my life, I didn’t take any mana from the Sovereign.”

The thin line that formed between his brows was the only outward sign of his feelings. He nodded, setting the ornaments in his horns jangling. I thought he intended to leave, but instead he turned back to me, patting my shin with one hand. “You should focus on processing the phoenix’s lingering mana in your body. Your core is nearing Integration, I can sense it.” He bared his teeth in a hungry smile. “You will be the first in many, many generations of lessers to do so.”

I was silent. The tendrils of magic in my brain had subsided, and I couldn’t read Agrona’s intentions.

“Integration is a strange quirk of your lesser biology,” he mused, looking past me and through the wall into some distant vision only he could see. “For an asura, such a thing is unimaginable. As we grow in strength, our cores grow too. The longer an asura lives, the more they grow. Not in size, but potency and strength. And yet, strangely enough, we are still constrained.”

“In what way?” I asked, hesitating. Agrona was not usually prone to simple conversation, and I felt certain there was some deeper purpose behind his words.