Redemption Arc

Despite Belcourt’s relaxed posture, Lucian could tell that the First Inquisitor was somewhat unnerved by their arrival. His eyes didn’t break from Aurelia and Theobald—the only two who he considered a genuine threat, most likely.

If I can convince Cyril… Belcourt’s in dire straits, Lucian thought. Cyril… he’s probably too far gone, but… for now, I can’t act like that. I should play along.

“Villeth called you the strategist of the team, Lucian. That was quite striking to me,” Belcourt said. “You certainly strategized ably on how to tear your father down to your level.”

Lucian didn’t address Belcourt. There was no point in that.

“Cyril,” Lucian said. Lightning struck, and thunder followed. His golden eyes looked up at Lucian, visibly trembling from… mania? Insanity? He couldn’t know. “When I said I can rebuild your reputation… why don’t we start here, now? The first brick of your renewed legacy… you could become the man who killed Belcourt, a champion of the demons,” Lucian declared.

Belcourt laughed. “I’m promising him many lifetimes as an immortal to rebuild what you broke. You’re providing a ‘maybe’ he can be cured. How about a counter?” He looked at Aurelia. “Aurelia… come back, won’t you? You’re missed.” He held his arms out. “You can’t fake it, you know. I know you were sincere. What do they have over you? How did they get to you? Whatever the case… I can fix it. I promise.”

Damn, Lucian thought, feeling exposed now. Do I use the Mentor’s Seal?

“There’s no maybe about it,” Lucian said, cutting past Belcourt’s words. He kept an eye on Aurelia in his peripheries, the Blessing of the Soothsayer close at hand. “I can cure you, Cyril. This doesn’t need to be the end of your story. Like I said, lay the first brick of a new foundation. Help us. Belcourt is in the heart of the Collegium. We can win!”

Cyril opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Do you have any proof for what you say about this ‘cure?’” Belcourt asked. “Anything beyond vagaries designed to confuse Cyril further?” He gestured, making everyone flinch. “I do. I brought it to him. His leg… purged of its rot, right before his eyes.” He placed a hand on Cyril’s shoulder, and the man flinched. “He knows who offers certainty.”

Lingering in the corner of the darkness, Lucian saw a severed leg that looked pristine. That must’ve come from their first fight, where Cyril stalled to allow the Student Ambassadors time to evacuate.

“Lucian…?” Theobald said, a question in his tone. Lucian didn’t know what it was—a request to flee? A request to begin attacking? A request for proof?

Proof… I’ve seen the future, that’s it, Lucian thought. But that can’t reach Belcourt’s ears. Should I point to Charlton? That might put him and his apprentice at risk… but if Belcourt dies, the information can’t reach…

Lucian paused as a revelation came to him. “The reason why you knew about the demon infiltration in the monastery… this has been happening for a while, hasn’t it?” he asked Cyril. “They’ve been tempting you through your dreams.”

Cyril couldn’t hold Lucian’s gaze. He looked down. “Ever since I knew you had Lydia. I wanted to hold firm. I could see victory. I could see it,” Cyril said, frustration on his tone. “But… you… Dinah… why wouldn’t she… how did you turn her against me?”

“Come on, Cyril! Think about this! The demons won’t be the victors,” Lucian said.

“Ehh… I don’t know about that…” Belcourt mused.

“They’ve never won before,” Lucian said, and Belcourt shrugged. “They’ve invaded time and time again, and they’ve lost every single time. Do you think this time will be different? Is that how you want to remembered—a twice-over loser?” He held his hand out. “Cyril… think about it. You’ve stumbled, yes, but that’s no reason to go plunging into the abyss.”

Cyril eyed him. “I killed Lydia. My choice… it was made then. Even if you could overlook that, I can tell your lawyer won’t. And from the look in your eyes… you’re only saying what you think I want to hear.”

“And you think Belcourt can be trusted?” Theobald countered. “Listen, Cyril. You made a mistake, yes. The Inquisition… that was a tragedy. But the man responsible is standing right next to you, and you’re in the best position to make this right.”

Cyril stared at Theobald. He seemed to gain conviction. “We go to the Heavens or Hells, Theobald. Black or white. If I can’t be the ideal they aspire to, I’ll be the nightmare they run from. If they won’t sing my name in praise, they’ll scream it in fear. That’s the choice I’ve made.”

Lucian clenched his teeth together, trying to think of another way to approach this. Maybe it was hopeless. Maybe everything was lost when he killed Lydia. Or maybe Cyril was too far gone from the beginning.

As Lucian thought, Belcourt took the initiative. “That’s one matter settled. But… there’s another thing. Those nine lives, Aurelia? They’re still on offer,” Belcourt said. “Just come to me. I’ll protect you.”

Lucian didn’t need to use the Mentor’s Seal—Aurelia shifted back on her own. “Say that again?”

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“The offer stands,” Belcourt said. “Unchanged. Nine lives.”

“Without handing you the monastery?” Aurelia said. “Without giving you what the First Emperor wanted? Me, alone—and you’ll give me nine lives?”

Lucian looked at her. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You alone have tremendous value,” Belcourt said. “You can reveal all of the mysteries that’ve unfolded in the monastery. That, by itself, is everything we need.”

Aurelia crossed her arms. For some reason, she looked furious for half a moment before her face settled. Lucian said nothing, staring at her. She glanced at him.

“This man used the Mentor’s Seal against me, to seal me. They’ve been treating me like a stupid dog,” Aurelia said, holding Lucian’s gaze. “But I’m not. I’m quite the smart dog. I’ve been waiting for a chance like this.”

Aurelia started to step toward Belcourt. Lucian stared at her as she approached, unblinking with his jaw clenched.

“Lucian, what the hell is this?!” Theobald shouted.

Belcourt adjusted the cloth mask covering his face. “I believe they call it a reversal of fortunes. I don’t believe you planned for this, did you, ‘strategist?’ I’ve known Aurelia since she was no taller than my knee… and people don’t change. Their true nature surfaces, one way or another. I made her who she is, after all.”

There was a reason he hadn’t used the Mentor’s Seal yet. As Cyril and Theobald watched with shocked expressions, Aurelia approached Belcourt. When she neared… there was a flash of light, and her divine beast form rocketed forth with jaws aflame with holy fire. Belcourt was totally taken off guard.

Belcourt was a spellcaster, not a physical fighter. Physically, he wasn’t exceptional. She could’ve aimed for anywhere—his neck, his head… that wouldn’t have killed Belcourt, though, whose demonic power was regeneration. Instead, she chose the most practical option.

Aurelia aimed for Belcourt’s arm with his Inquisitor’s Mark.

Her jaw clamped down around Belcourt’s arm, holy fire and teeth sheering through it as she thrashed like a dog trying to wrestle a toy from its owner. His arm stubbornly clung to his body as Belcourt retaliated. He thrust his left arm forth open-palmed, casting a potent holy spell that caused a violent explosion that blew out the windows. Aurelia’s teeth stayed clenched, and she finally ripped free his arm. She flew backward, slamming into the doorframe and dropping down behind Lucian. There was a deep gash in her shoulder, but she was highly resistant to holy. She’d be fine. Hopefully.

Cyril rose to his feet, stepping backward. He dispelled the spell of darkness, and came to stand beside Belcourt with magic at the ready. Belcourt stopped him from attacking, shaking his head. Aurelia, meanwhile, advanced. She offered Belcourt’s arm to Lucian, and he took it. He knew its value. Theobald cast forth a sword of holy light, but Belcourt swatted it aside with a swipe of his good arm.

“You two-faced… bitch!” Belcourt shouted, cradling his dire wound. He rarely lost his composure, so Lucian took that as a badge of honor.

Lucian pointed Belcourt’s arm. “She’s my two-faced bitch.”

He had no damn idea why he said that—he just felt caught up in the feeling of triumph at Aurelia’s decision. The arm flopped down limply at the elbow, rather embodying Lucian’s mood.

“Ahh… I can’t believe you’ve done this…” Belcourt groaned, looking at his injury. Then, he looked at Lucian. His eyes flashed dangerously and Lucian feared he’d attack, but he stayed still. “Well… shit. I needed that thing.” He sighed, his composure regained. “A third offer, then. If I give you Cyril, can you give my arm back?” He held out his hand. Cyril looked at him in alarm, and Belcourt laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” He grabbed Cyril’s shoulder.

Belcourt’s wound bubbled, and moments later, a fresh arm erupted free. Belcourt’s demonic power was regeneration. Lucian eyed the back of its palm, though, and found that it lacked the Inquisitor’s Mark. “You see, Cyril? Losing an arm… it’s no trouble.”

Cyril gave a faint smile. “I do see.”

Belcourt studied the new arm, then let it drop. “Aurelia… tsk tsk tsk. You surprise me. I thought I had your measure. Perhaps you figured us out after all. It doesn’t matter, though.” He clenched Cyril’s shoulder tighter. “Cyril is more of a prize than you could ever be. As much as I’d like that back… you’ve company coming. Ta-ta.”

Then, Belcourt seized Cyril tightly and jumped out of the now-broken window. Theobald stormed up, peering down below. His head whipped from side to side, magic at the ready.

“We should give chase,” Theobald declared. He pointed to the door. “Go get help!”

Lucian nodded, then turned to Aurelia. He climbed on her back, and the two of them ran outside into the rain. He healed her as they went. Lucian nearly hit his head on the doorways, but he ducked low, clinging to Aurelia and the arm. They burst outside. There, several Collegium instructors were waiting. They’d come at the first noise, and were ready for combat.

“Belcourt is here!” Lucian shouted. “He jumped into the sea with Cyril, who’s betrayed us. Theobald is inside the home!”

People were utterly shocked by that declaration, but perhaps Lucian’s reputation had already begun to turn… or more likely, Aurelia’s presence persuaded them. Most didn’t question him; they simply moved to act. One in particular did have questions.

“What is this, Lucian? What happened?” Dean Mortimer demanded, scanning Lucian quickly with his eyes and shouting over the rain. “And… why in the world do you have an… an arm?”

“This is Belcourt’s arm,” Lucian declared. “Mine now, I guess. But you can look at it to see proof what I say is true.”

Dean Mortimer looked beyond confused, but Lucian looked at the arm. Then, he looked at Aurelia. She watched him expectantly.

“I’ll never call you stupid again,” Lucian promised her, the rain dripping down his face. “Because that was better than any plan I had.”

There was no denying that this was a disaster. Maybe they had some hope to catch him, but Lucian had a bad feeling. Losing Cyril to demonic corruption… he’d been blind, too blinded by his pursuit of victory at any cost. But why was Cyril such a prize? Why had Belcourt seemed so pleased? He didn’t understand.

If ever there was a silver lining, thiswas it. Belcourt’s arm, and the Inquisitor’s Mark contained within. And that wasn't even mentioning the party responsible: Aurelia.

Where did things go from here?