“Nik…my boy…I really appreciate your words. Should I cover the shutters? Does the light bother you?”
“No,” Nik shook his head, “I began to see better. And my eye is recovering. Thank you for your treatment, daddy-sir.”
“You have unbelievably beautiful eyes!” Kors couldn't stop staring at him, his stomach aching sweetly. “No, light eyes are still more beautiful than brown ones.”
“And I like the ones like yours,” Nik disagreed, “your eyes are more beautiful.”
Kors looked at his reflection in the mirror: his face was swollen, there was a purple bruise on his lower jaw, and under his eye, too, which made his eyes, so beautiful, according to Nik’s eyes, look squinted because of swelling:
“Yeah…” unable to resist, he sighed sadly and immediately felt Nik shrink inside. Kors looked up at him in surprise. Nik’s expression was slightly ashamed, embarrassed, he completely buried his nose in the collar.
“He is ashamed! Kors understood. “He is ashamed of himself for beating me and smashing my face!”
It cheered him up and made him a little happy. Kors turned to Prince Arel lying on the bed:
“Arel, give me your dye, please!”
“Why do you need it?” Arel asked, and at the same time there was neither surprise nor interest in his voice.
“I want to dye my face. We’re going back to the Black City, how am I going to get there with a face like that?”
“Vitor, is it because of Zagpeace?” Nik was surprised. “Are you afraid to disobey the order of true blacks?”
“Of course not! I didn’t care about their punishment! I just want to cover up the bruises. I don’t want to be seen with bruises, it’s shameful.”
And Nik cringed again.
“But you’re a master,” he remarked cautiously, “masters shouldn’t paint their faces, it’s even more shameful than bruises, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but now I am with you, along with the disgraced prince Arel, and I will paint my face as one of the prince’s people, as a sign of solidarity with him and belonging to your team.”
But Arel, who had been so relaxed before, suddenly sat up abruptly on the bed and said:
“You’re not in my team, Vitor.”
“What?” Kors was surprised.
“You are not from my team,” Arel repeated, “I didn’t accept you into the team, and you didn’t pass the initiation.”
Kors was even taken aback:
“Well, take me into the team! What is the problem? Or am I not worthy of being in the team, but simply speaking, in the gang of Prince Arel?”
“We have always voted before accepting a new team member.”
Kors rolled his eyes.
“I am in charge of my team, and the final decision remains with me,” Arel continued, ignoring the mocking expression on Kors’ face. “But to make everything fair, I always gave everyone the right to vote and took into account the interests of my team members. If the majority was in favour, the newcomer had to be initiated and volunteer to become my slave. I myself decided where I would put my brand and what size it would be.”
“Holy shit, how many conditions!” Kors was indignant. “What the heck! I’m ready for anything, I’ve been your slave for so long!”
“You are not my slave. Nik just gave you to me for a while as a gift.”
“I don’t see much difference.”
“You know, Vitor, how I treat my slaves, aren’t you afraid?” Arel looked at him, narrowing his eyes cunningly.
“No! After everything that has already happened to me, I’m not afraid of anything!”
“A member of my team must carry out my orders and tasks,” Arel continued, “whatever I order. What if I order you to go and collect money from the townspeople in my street?”
“I’ll do it! And I bet I can do it just as good as Nik. When they see me, they will be even more scared!”
“Do you agree to be mine, to obey me? Do you want to be a member of my team? Think again carefully so you don’t regret it later!”
“What are you saying to me?” Kors shouted. “I agree to all your terms, what should I do now?”
“First, we must vote whether to accept you at all or not,” said Arel, “since now only I, Nik and Tol are here from my team, then two votes in your favor will be enough. I’m not against you, Vitor. I vote yes, I’m in favor of having you in the team. Nik?”
“I’m also for daddy in our team!” Nik snapped back. He finally threw off his heavy bear cloak from his shoulders, and, going up to Arel, sat down next to him on the bed, watching with obvious interest what was happening.
“So, it makes no sense to call Tol,” Arel summed up, “in any case, there will be two votes against one.”
“I’m sure Tol would be in favor too,” Nik put in.
“Yes, I think so too,” Arel agreed. “Vitor Kors, we want to see you in our team and voted for you unanimously.”
Kors barely suppressed a condescending grin.
“Thank you, prince.”
“Now you must follow my orders. It will be your initiation, and if you pass it, you will remain in the team,” said Arel.
“Well?” Kors, slightly smiling, looked at such a serious Arel without any respect, although he himself asked to be a part of his team. “Everything is so difficult for you, it turns out. Frankly, I didn’t expect such complex actions from you, Prince Arel. What task do I have to complete? I even became interested.”
Arel turned to Nik, who was sitting next to him:
“Nik, tell Verniy to bring someone who gets caught first.”
“Well,” Nik said readily.
Arel kicked Valentine:
“Get under the bed and don’t make a sound!”
Valentine hurriedly lay face down on the floor, crawled under their bed and lay still there.
Verniy appeared very quickly, and under the elbow he led the slave girl. She was wearing a leather muzzle, and in her hands was a large wicker basket.
“Here,” Verniy reported, “she was walking along the corridor. Will she fit?”
“Yes,” Arel nodded.
Leaving the girl in the room, Verniy left. The slave girl stood where he had left her, clutching the basket with both hands, lowering her eyes to the floor and not moving.
“I can already guess what I will have to do,” Kors drawled somewhat disappointedly. “Everything is very predictable. So what? Should I fuck her? I don’t want to, of course, but I’ll try.” Kors approached the slave, looking at her thoughtfully. Walking around, he took the girl by the long black braid, decorated with multi-colored beads woven into it:
“Hmm…” he said and, letting go of the girl’s braid, wrinkled his nose, “she stinks so hard, Arel, can I make her wash at least?”
“You don’t have to fuck her,” Arel replied.
“Seriously? What a twist! What should I do with her then?”
“Kill.”
“Kill?! Oh!”
“You must kill her,” Arel repeated, “right now.”
Kors shrugged.
“Okay. Fine. How?”
“As you wish.”
Without specifying anything else, Kors again approached the girl, who absolutely didn’t react to what was happening, being in some kind of stupor and at the same time reverently delighted that the higher ones turned their attention to her. She didn’t seem to hear what they were talking about at all. Her emotions now reminded Kors very much of those of a blue janitor slave in the Limit. Everything was the same: fear and euphoria.
Kors pulled the basket.
“Let’s put it aside so that it doesn’t get in the way,” he said affectionately. The girl limply unclenched her fingers, and Kors pulled the burden from her hands. He placed the basket on the floor, kicking it sharply to the side and at the same time grabbing the slave girl with both hands by the throat just above the slave collar. His face became tense and his mouth twisted a little, but not from emotions, but rather from physical effort. There was a distinct crunch of breaking cervical vertebrae. In an instant, everything was over, and the lifeless body of a girl with an unnaturally twisted neck fell to the floor like a bag, the poor thing did not even try to show at least some resistance.
Kors looked at Nik and Arel, and the way they looked at him seemed strange to him.
“What?” Kors didn’t understand their views. “I couldn’t do it this way? It had to be a knife? I just didn’t want to make dirt in the room!”
“Well… actually, she might have wet herself,” Nik pointed out.
“She might have wet herself anyway, even just from the delight of being brought before her masters,” Kors protested. He walked over to the table, and tearing a large juicy grape from a bunch, twisted it in his fingers, as if examining whether it was good enough. Finally, bringing it to his mouth, he squeezed the berry with his teeth, biting and feeling the sweet juicy pulp in his mouth with pleasure.
“You are in the team,” Arel said in a dull voice.
And Kors smiled smugly:
“Arel, did you come up with this initiation when you were thirteen? It seemed to you to be the most terriblething in the world?”
Arel was silent and embarrassed, and Kors shook his head condescendingly:
“You, in fact, are children – just as thoughtless and cruel as they are. Your mental development stopped somewhere in adolescence, and you are stuck there. If you take away all the cunning nature of the Demon from Nik, there will be an orphan human who, because of difficult living conditions, went headlong. Inadequate and dumb as a tree, to such an extent that he is absolutely unable to analyze and realize the consequences of his rash actions, and because of that he endlessly gets into trouble. Because everything somehow happened by itself! Forgive me, Nik, for this bitter truth.”
“Anal… analyze…” Nik tried to repeat, and, realizing that he was getting something wrong, he laughed.
Kors nodded.
“Yes, yes, that's right, Nik, everything is ass-backwards with you.”
Kors looked at Arel.
“You, Prince Arel, are mentally ill, and besides, you are terribly lazy, although, in fact, not bad. And stupid too. But, to give you credit, Arel, you knew how to select people. It takes a certain talent to assemble a team consisting of a corrupt pedophile investigator, a murderous March, a military traitor and a criminal from the Limit of the unclean ones without a name and documents.”
Arel remained silent, and without waiting for an answer from him, Kors asked:
“Tell me, did it happen that one of your friends couldn’t pass this test?”
“Yes.”
“Who?!” Kors was genuinely surprised.
“Vil.”
“Your half-brother?”
Ariel nodded dejectedly.
“That’s right, your father had sons resembling assholes! The elders couldn’t win the throne and disappeared. You are insane. Vil is weak. AndValentine is just unfinished. Chester gave birth to so many sons, and all useless!” Kors looked at Nik, who was sitting next to Arel.
“Did Nik kill the slave girl too? But, probably, before that he fucked her?”
And, seeing how his son’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Kors laughed:
“Why do I know you so well? Maybe because you are primitive?”
“You have passed the initiation,” said Arel, “the last thing left is to become my slave. Do you agree?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Kors replied, “put a brand on me and let’s get this over with it, honestly, I’m tired of it.”
At that moment, Verniy jumped into the room like a shadow, and, grabbing the dead slave under the armpit, quickly dragged her out of the room. The unclean dog growled carnivorously under his helmet, apparently unable to contain the anticipation of the upcoming meal. Kors turned away in disgust. He looked at the abandoned basket, inside it:
“Here’s my shirt! Fuck! It was the laundress! And who will wash our clothes now?”
“Vitor, I want to put my brand next to Nik’s,” said Arel.
“What? Ah yes, great!” And Kors began to take off his jacket. He stripped to the waist and raised his left arm, revealing a small tattoo just below his armpit, a black swirling monogram – the mark of a Demon’s slave. Nik readily took out his tools and tattooed Kors. It was the silhouette of an eagle with outstretched wings, small and rather sketchy, but still recognizable, the seal of Prince Arel. The sign was located just below the snake’s tail twisted into a spiral.
When Nik finished, Kors bowed his head and looked at the side of his body, then lowered his hand. When his hand was lowered down, it obscured the brands, and they were not visible.
“Now I have seals on me, as on an important document,” Kors smiled bitterly.
“You are the most important,” Nik nodded, “that’s right.”
“You are in the team,” Arel said, “you can dye your face like mine if you want,” and Arel took out paints from his bag and handed them to Kors. Kors took them.
“Congratulations, dad!” Nik smiled at him. “You are now on the team with us!”
“And of course, let’s drink to that, shall we, Nik?” Kors shook his head. He didn’t understand why he needed to become one of the members of the gang of the disgraced prince, but for some reason he didn’t regret anything, feeling some kind of courage, and this frightened him a little.
“Hmm… yes!” Nik agreed, not reacting to some mockery in Kors’ intonation. “Let’s drink to that!”
Arel poured wine for everyone, and they clinked glasses:
“For a new member in our team!” Arel said.
And Nik, having drained his goblet in a couple of sips, joyfully hugged Kors, wrapping his arms around him, so that Kors almost spilled his wine:
“Oh! Nik, honey, be careful!”
“I’m sorry, daddy.”
“You are really children, after all,” Kors smiled sadly.
“Yes, I’m a thoughtless boy in this body, you said it yourself,” Nik continued to smile, “Am I your kitten? Well, daddy, am I your kitten?”
Kors sighed.
“You are my favorite kitten. Paint me then beautifully, as you can.”
And Nick got even happier. And while they were busy, Prince Arel pulled his Valentine out from under the bed and began to amuse himself by taking an open bottle of wine and, putting its neck under the lower shield of Valentine’s helmet, pouring alcohol into his mouth, forcing him to drink and watching with a laugh the way Valentine took convulsive gulps, coughing and trying not to choke.
It was early in the morning, just before dawn, and Kors, as always, was lying on the bed between his boys, but he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop remembering and revisiting in his thoughts over and over again that ill-fated evening in the Fort, when Zagpeace Gezaria and Kamiel Varakh had deceived him. Did Nik know about this deception? He must have known everything.
Stunned by the news of the death of his former, but once very close friend, Kors returns to the room with the bear on the wall. Nik and Arel are hugging on the bed, but when they see him, they immediately move apart, making room for Kors to lie between them, and now he also lies between them.
“Where did you run to?” Nik asks him. His expression is completely normal, cute, as in most cases. He tilts his head strongly to one side to his shoulder and looks at Kors with his bright transparent eyes a little inquiringly. “A lying creature, because he knows and understands everything perfectly!” Kors thinks. At that moment, he decided that Nik knew that Varakh had died, and asked Kors just for the sake of decency, but it turns out that Nik knew something completely different.
“Varakh is dead,” Kors answers him.
“My condolences. Rest in peace…”
“No need to say it!” Kors remembered how he shouted it, already at that moment he felt falseness and lies.
“Why are you screaming like that? Did I say something wrong again?”
“No, that’s right, I’m sorry…”
“There were many such situations in my life, I know what words to say.”
“Shut up, please don’t talk…” Kors asks him wearily.
Nik knew everything. He knew that Varakh hadn’t died, he knew that Kors had been deceived. But he didn’t explain anything to him, didn’t console him, didn’t reveal the truth, in fact, he treated Kors no less cruelly than Zagpeace. Why didn’t Nik say anything? Did he want Kors to end up figuring things out on his own? Kors couldn’t find an answer to his question, and now it was pointless to get into Nik’s head, into his thoughts and memories. The demon wouldn’t let Kors read them, wouldn’t let him know what he really thought at that moment. He couldn’t even try, Nik would hear and block him. But Kors can now “listen”to Varakh. Listen and find out what happened more than twenty years ago on that forest road. Kors was scared. Is this truth worth knowing? He has learned a lot lately, but has it made him happier? Maybe it’sbetter not to know? “No, no, you need to cast aside cowardice and find out the truth to the end, whatever it may be!” Gathering his courage, Kors clearly set a specific goal for himself, as Nik taught him. Mentally, he indicated his intention: “I want to see Varakh. I want to see what happened to him on that forest road. I’m ready to see it!” He focused…
Chapter 20
Oh! For a moment Kors even felt dizzy from the tension, he had never “watched” the events of the past unfolding at such a speed.
Twilight.
The horse is running at full speed.
Crazy ride. Crouching in the saddle and constantly urging his horse on, young Kamiel Varakh is chasing the red thief. The forest road winds under the shadow of huge fir trees. The rider is skidded on sharp turns, and mangy fir tree paws are trying to hit him in the face. The horse rushes at full speed, ears flattened, but Varakh, bending strongly to his neck, only urges him on more intensively. Kors feels as if he himself is now experiencing all the feelings of Varakh, he himself is chasing the enemy, his heart is pounding furiously in his chest. He catches up with the red one, knocks him out of the saddle.
“Oh, Gods, be careful, Varakh!”
The red warrior falls to the ground, but, quickly crouching, immediately jumps back to his feet. With one movement, he throws the wicker knapsack that was hanging on his chest over his head and tosses it aside. It seems to Kors that he will now stop breathing from what he sees, because he understands that his newborn boy is in this knapsack. Fortunately, there are thick bushes growing along the side of the road, and the bag falls on the branches, which soften the blow. In the dim light of the rising moon, the red one and Varakh meet in a fierce duel. Kors sees the gleam of their swords. Varakh fights like it is his own baby. He is a true friend, and Kors’ misfortune is his misfortune. Kors’ goal is his goal. The red warrior falls to the ground, and furious Varakh is chopping up the already lifeless body for some more time. Finally, leaving the dead enemy, he runs up to the place where the knapsack was thrown. He grabs it, but before mounting his horse, he stops on a more lighted stretch of road, lowers himself to the ground and carefully takes the baby out from the bag. Kors sees the child in the pale moonlight, wrapped in a rag.
Varakh gently unfolds the baby, realizes that it is a boy, and sees that Inness’ chain glittering around his neck, on which she strung her wedding ring. The chain is wrapped around the baby’s neck twice. Kors recognizes both the decoration and the ring. Without a doubt, these are his wife’s belongings. Not only that, he also recognizes Nik, despite the fact that his little childish head has rather dark hair, not at all as white as it is now, rather dark blond. Nik has neat, slightly pointed ears, like the ones of the whites, and such a pretty face! He is no more than a day old, but Kors sees his plump lips folded like a bow. These are the lips of his boy, he recognizes them from a million. Nik is his son! But he is not breathing, his eyes with long eyelashes are closed, his face is deathly pale. Maybe it’s the light of the moon? Unfortunately no. Varakh lets out some kind of inhuman howl of despair, turning into a sob, puts the child on a rag, bends over him, begins to put pressure on his chest, blows into his mouth. All in vain, the child is dead. But Varakh tries for a long time to revive the lifeless body.
Finally, having lost all hope, he hugs the dead baby, tears in his eyes. Varakh sits, swaying from side to side, and weeps bitterly. He has no idea how he will tell Kors about this. But Kors feels that his friend doesn’t even think of leaving the child in the forest, and, be that as it may, he is going to bring him to Kors, who at this very moment is sobbing inconsolably over the grave of Inness that he dug out. Varakh knows that he will increase his friend’s grief, but he doesn’t even think of lying, and now Kors doesn’t understand why this didn’t happen in the end and Varakh lied. He doesn’t understand… The crackling of breaking branches makes Varakh distract himself from his grief. The horses take off and run away with a wild neighing, and Varakh freezes in horror, because something is moving towards him from the darkness of the thicket. Something nasty, large, black, with an elongatedreptilian muzzle and a serpent’s tail goes over many long spider legs moves with on the sides of the flexible scaly body, creeps, writhing and hissing, and sticks out a long and thin forked tongue. With a trembling hand, Varakh tries to grab the sword, but it falls out of his suddenly numb fingers. Varakh can’t move, and suddenly he clearly hears an order in his head:
“Give me the baby!”
Varakh, with the last of his strength, presses the baby to his chest, but the monster approaches him.
“Give me the baby!”
And Varakh, closing his eyes in fear and trying not to look at the monster, obeying, slowly puts the son of Kors onto the ground. The front spider legs gently lift the baby, surrounding it with a tenacious cocoon. Turning around, with incredible speed, only flashing black scales, a terrible creature is hiding in the darkness of the forest. And Varakh remains seated. Finally he gets to his feet, pale, staggering like a drunk, and walks along the road, trying in vain to look for his horse. He would return to the garrison and tell Kors nothing, keeping what had happened to him on that damned forest road as a terrible secret that no one needed to know about. The secret that the son of Kors died, and he was carried away by a monster from the underworld itself.
“So that’s why you didn’t believe that Nik was my son! That’s what you knew, Varakh!”
Covered in cold sweat, Kors sat up in bed with a jerk. With some kind of horror, he looked at Nik, at his boy. And he, as if sensing his wild look, woke up and opened his eyes. He lay on his side and silently looked at Kors. Just looked.
“My son is dead,” Kors said in a dull voice, looking into his eyes, into the bright false eyes, “I saw you take the dead child from Varakh.”
“No,” Nik sat up in bed.
“If not, I want to talk to my son,” said Kors, “get out of his body now, let us talk.”
Nik quickly ran his hand over his face, brushing back his tousled hair.
“I am your son, talk to me.”
Kors shook his head in denial.
“You are a demon.”
And Nik seemed to be worried:
“Am I not your son? You are my Demon Daddy, you are above me in the hierarchy! Well?”
“Please let the human go…” Kors asked tiredly again, “I need to talk to him.”
Annoyance appeared on Nik’s face.
“Vitor, I recognize that look of yours. I don’t like that look of yours when you stare at me like I’m a piece of shit. Have you fallen out of love with me again? Eh? You told me that I was your favorite kitten, that you would never stop loving me!” Nik raised his voice in annoyance. “Why are you cutting the kitten into pieces now?! Why did you divide him into a human and a Demon? You are shredding him into separate pieces! You are ripping off my skin and dig into the insides! I’m in pain! Love cannot be cut into pieces!”
“I’m not tearing you in half!” Kors shouted back as well. “I love this symbiosis of human and Demon! It is you who constantly tear my heart to pieces with your lies!”
Nik closed his eyes and hit himself on the head with his fists several times.
Kors didn’t stop him. Before, he always stopped Nik when he started hitting himself on the top of his head, but now he just watched indifferently and waited for him to stop.
Nik lowered his hands, relaxed his nervously clenched fists, and looked at Kors in confusion.
“Why don’t you want to let me talk to my human son?” Kors’ voice was cold as ice.
Nik dropped his shoulders.
“And what about those words of yours, Vitor? You yourself told me: ‘…you add fire to a beautiful appearance… an ideal combination… external andinternal complement each other… when a person and a Demon are not separately, but together, you become whole, become a person!’ And what was that? Again your empty chatter? Well, daddy, if now you don’t want to perceive me as… as a person, as a whole, so be it…” Nik looked up at Kors, eyes full of expectation and hope:
“Why do you need a human? I love you!”
“Enough!” Kors yelled so loudly that he woke Arel up, who jumped up on the bed and stared at them incomprehension. But Kors didn’t care about Arel right now, he only looked at Nik:
“Demon, stop lying and fooling me, hiding behind love! Just let the human go! What are you afraid of?!”
“I’m not afraid of anything! I am him!”
“N-o-o-o! You are not him at all! My son was dead!”
“Well, if someone dies, can’t you continue to love him?”
But Kors didn’t listen to him anymore:
“Let the human go! I want to ask my son how he survived! Let HIM tell me the truth, I don’t believe YOU anymore! Gods! You… you and the witch resurrected him with Black Water! That’s why you always need it! His body lives only thanks to this hard stimulation. What did you turn him into? You made him a walking corpse!” Kors roughly pushed Arelaway, jumped out of bed and began hastily dressing.
“Where are you going?” Nik asked suspiciously.
“Anywhere! Only not to lie in bed with my dead son!”
“No! Thanks to me, he’s alive!” Nik shook his shaggy head and squeezed his temples with his palms.
“Thanks to you, he moves a little! But if you leave him, he will die!”
Kors paced the room nervously from corner to corner.
“That’s why he’s mentally retarded! Not developed, barely walks, sees and speaks poorly. Falls constantly into a state of stupor, sits without moving, and is silent. He told me, ‘I don’t exist. I am nobody. I died’. He told it to me! And I didn’t attach any importance to these words! That’s why you don’t feel cold in his body, you don’t feel hunger, food is tasteless for you. And the world comes alive a little only in the dark!”
“No, that's not because of it!”
“My son! Gods! I saw my little boy there, with the witch, in the dark crypt, with his hands tied, as they bind the dead! The living dead, he was digging the ground… my poor son… you didn’t even give him a name! I have understood everything! I understand why you smell like death! It’s the sweetish smell of grave decay… the smell of decay!”
“You don’t understand anything!” Nik exclaimedalready with obvious anger, watching Kors rushing around the room, getting ready, grabbing his things, fastening his iron stick to the belt. “You only think that you understand everything, daddy, but in fact you always have your favorite garbage in your head!”
Kors paused for a moment.
“No, Demon, I have understood everything! And, damn it, I realized this even when I first saw you at the interrogation! I thought you were the Demon in the body of my dead son! Therefore, I began to avenge him without pity! And I was right! My intuition did not fail me at that moment! I! Was! Right!”
“But you yourself later communicated only with my human part many times! He talked to you, played chess and cards. Did you play with the dead?!”
“You confuse me because you keep him alive a little for your own purposes!” Kors approached the bed from Nik’s side, hovering over him and looking down with a challenge, and Nik lowered his eyes, staring at the bedspread, and was silent. “Well? Why are you keeping silent?!” Kors shouted indignantly. “You have nothing to say? And I, a fool, reproached myself so much for this spring ball, for punishing you so, for exposing you to ridicule! I did everything right! It serves you! Deceiver!”
Nik didn’t answer, just gave Kors a quick, wolfish glare and twisted his lips in an evil, nasty grin.
And in the head of Kors, the memory of his campaign with the unclean ones under the mountains to the Ore Town suddenly flashed very clearly. The way they swam across the lake and then made a halt in a cold cave with lilac stone flowers. Kors then asked Nik for a long time about his life, and, as it seemed to him, he learned a lot.
Karina told me that you grant wishes. And I believe in it. You know, I haven’t asked you to do mine yet.
“And?”
“Nik… when you complete all your Missions here and turn this world upside down, and this will happen soon, because in the West you have already changed everything. There is no more Western limit of the unclean, and the Farm is in complete decline… Lis will now change everything in the East, and only the Black City will remain. When you leave and take me and Arelwith you, let the human go. I want to help him, really. I don’t blame you for your cruelty to him, I understand that you are both bound against your will. Restore him the same way as Lis, and send him upstairs to his Rosa.”
“Do you also believe, like Karina, that she is sitting at the Portal and waiting for him?”
“Yes. For some reason I believe in it. After all, I myself loved Inness for many years. Only I had no hope, but Rosa does. Let him go to her.”
“If I do everything here as I was ordered, I will let him go. I don’t wish him harm, I will restore his body and let him go. I don’t make people slaves without their consent, as you do. Mara made him a Demons’ Slave, and I was simply ordered to be in this body, that’s all.”
“Will you let him go? Or are you saying you can let him go?”
“I'll let him go.”
“Thank you!”
“Deceiver! Pretender!” Kors began to furiously throw things from the bedside table, on which boxes of Nik’sand Arel’s cigarettes, a comb, several assorted glasses and bottles were placed. Everything flew to the floor. Kors approached the table and brushed his precious goblet off the tabletop, but to his surprise, Arel’s gift didn’t break. Unable to calm down, Kors kicked over the laundress’ basket and chair, continuing to destroy everything around, until Nik finally shouted:
“Vitor, stop it! What’s happening with you? Are you crazy?”
Breathing heavily, Kors turned to him.
“What’s happening with me?! What’s it, huh, Nik?!When I asked you, there in the cave, I asked you to fulfill my wish. You agreed! I asked that my human son be released when you have completed all your Missions here. You agreed. You said, ‘I’ll let him go.’ Already having bitter experience, I clarified: ‘Are you saying that you can let him go, or will you let him go?’