Chapter 19.2

She felt hurt by how much he had still hidden from her. A darkness deep within, a trauma she had no idea he was hiding. Never would Eirwen have suspected that her weapon master, who hadn't wanted her to feel the pain of killing him, wished he had sacrificed himself for her sake years ago.

At the same time, she could almost hear Bethan's voice in her head. Hypocrite, she would have called Eirwen. She was hiding her trauma from him, what right did she truly have to complain about him burying his own. But she hadn't sworn herself to full honesty. Yet he had lied to her face, stating there were no secrets left.

He changed his stance. Still massive in size, he readied his sword, able to lash out after the intruder the very count it would be needed. Eirwen mimicked it, her sword now pointing at the heart of the fake who wore her father's figure. The fake scoffed at them.

"Eirwen." His tone no longer carried despair in it. It sounded just like the way he had sounded in many a recent conversation. Emotional yet still in control. Yet another act of trickery from him. "You've studied the corrupted arts, to ensure you could defend against them if my father were to come after you. Does this strike you as familiar?"

Clever. She had done her utmost best to hide her research, as not to give the man any ideas. Yet of course his son had caught on. As for his question, under normal circumstances, she would have conversed mentally, make sure not to give anything away. But right now that didn't seem an option. She decided to go on the offensive. "A Final Mercy." The fake's subtle twitch confirmed her claim.

His brows furrowed. "That requires a willing subject, and a single mage. Not four of them." A flinch on the fake's face, and a ripple in his visage. He was less in control than he wanted them to believe. Rattling him might be fruitful yet.

"Under normal circumstances. But that's where this version comes in. It needs three mages to properly manage the cage, because with less the chains waver. And it needs an anchor to trap the subject with. That is why we're both here, so we drag each other down. An added bonus is that they could accuse you of being the culprit."

He nodded. "Clever. So, weaknesses?" Straight to the point, without letting his eyes leave their target. This was dangerously comfortable, if only because they could get trapped in their conversation.

"The dream needs a director to guide the first steps, until the subjects properly contain each other. That puts them at risk, as to properly steer the dream, they must sense it all. So we can drive him out by torture. After that, we just have to let go of the dream." Of course it wasn't that easy. Even now she could feel the tug, the desire to throw herself into his arms. But she just had to sound confident and fool their enemy.

Their foe grinned maliciously, though his voice didn't sound very steady. "You think you can torture me? You don't have it in you. Or are you so unfilial that you would lay hands on your own father?"

Eirwen could feel her expression change, realising that no doubt there was a murderous rage now visible. As for her beloved weapon master, she could see the emotions slip out of his face, feeling the need to hide his rage from her. He tilted his head and spoke a single name. "Ranulf." The fake's shocked eyes shot in his direction almost as fast as his giant hand slammed into the fake's body.

Strangely enough, the hand passed through unharmed, but a figure flashed out the back and slammed into a wall. The figure of Duke Verglas fell to his knees, gasping in shock as the entity rose to its feet behind him. It took Eirwen but a single count to indeed recognise the figure of Baron Ranulf Denmane, representative of Comte Denmane. Too easy. As she offered a hand and helped her father's figure to his feet, she also perforated his stomach with her sword.

The surprise and panic in his eyes almost convinced her she was wrong, until a painful snarl appeared on his face. As he tried to pull away, she pulled him closer, while willing her power to stab into every part of his being that she could grasp. The resulting scream came from all around them, one she felt more than she heard. The fake dissipated, and with him disappeared their surroundings.

Her love ran towards her, his figure instantly his normal size once more. Eirwen mentally noted that in reality, that likely would take more time. She would need to ask him for details on that Crimson Giant handle later. For now, she welcomed his embrace, tears coming to her eyes as she recalled the painful moment where she had stabbed her father. Fake or not, the memory hurt.

He let go too soon for her taste, but they still had their current situation to deal with. "So, how did you know it didn't succeed? Was it because it was too simple a trick for it to should have worked?"

Eirwen nodded solemnly. "It was too easy, yes. The dream shows you what you want to see. Such as being able to drive him out and instantly revealing his real identity. This too could be fake, though the lack of features around us suggests we indeed escaped the director's grasp. Now we need to escape the dream, before it gets hold on us again."

He cracked his neck and looked at their featureless surroundings. "I'm guessing it's not as easy as just wanting to wake up. Let me guess, we might imagine we woke up and took out our enemies, only to then get trapped in a new happy ending?" He was way too sharp. Exactly the way she'd expect him to be. If it hadn't been for his earlier outburst, she would have worried he too was a fake. But that would be too complicated a lie to weave.

"Correct. That's why I'm keeping up my focus to ensure we stay in this state. So we can talk without slipping into fantasies." She looked him in the eyes and tilted her head, considering hiding her emotions but choosing to let her pain surface. "You wish you had died for me? Left me alone?"

The pain in his eyes was worse than the time she had raged at him in his office, when she had told him he had no right to call her by her name. But it was nothing compared to how she had felt when he spoke those words moments before, exposing the depths of his despair.

She could tell that he wanted to hide his emotions from her, yet held back on acting upon that desire. Perhaps he recalled that she had forbidden that. Their surroundings flashed as she recalled the occasion, almost turning into the office where that had happened, before she forced it down. The very count she let the dream take shape, she feared she would lose herself to it again.

He took a deep breath and answered, allowing the full depth of his emotions to be visible on his face. "I considered it, yes. At my darkest moments, I wished I had done so, and even believed it would have been for the best. I am happy I didn't realise the option before it was too late, or I might have been stubborn enough to act on it."

She could imagine that, yes. Again the thought almost changed their surroundings. She fought it back by focusing on the abyss of emotions swirling in his eyes. Ah, he truly appeared mad this way. Just like how she never noticed him using his powers until he stopped doing so, only by seeing him this way could she tell just how much of his madness he normally managed to hide from her.

"We will need to discuss your self-destructive feelings another time, and how you still hid that from me." She tried to stay calm, she really did, but still anger and hurt slipped into her voice, joined by determination as she continued. "Let me very clear. I will not accept any life without you by my side. It I ever feel like you're rushing off to your death to make amends, I will follow you into the grave. If you want me to live happily, you will have to stay alive as well. Clear?"

He swallowed hard and nodded as he faced her, a myriad of emotions swirling through his eyes. She could recognise pride, pain, worry, and strangely enough even relief. She put that aside and changed the subject. "Right now, we need to focus on getting out of here. Take out our attackers, capture the Baron, hold his father accountable." Again, the idea almost crept into their surroundings, the dream still trying to trap them.

There was a lot he wanted to say to her, she could tell, but his pragmatism managed to keep the upper hand. "I'm sorry. Yes, you're right. So how do we get out? There's still three mages managing our cage, so even without a director, it will still be hard to escape, right?"

"Correct. Because we need to want to leave. And right now, we both want to desperately hold on to each other." She felt sorry for what she was about to do to him. "I love you." He froze for less than a count at those words before he realised her intentions. Too slow. Imagining the Verglas technique to the point of perfection, she swung her sword at her neck and sliced her own head clean off.

Eirwen blinked at the ceiling of the bedroom, her senses instantly returning to her. It had worked. This kind of control was too much for even a magical dream to fake. As she drew that conclusion, her senses detected that in the guards room next door, her weapon master's powers burst into an inferno.