I staggered forward, squeezed through the opening, and put my un-injured shoulder to the stone, pushing with all my might. The massive door closed with a rumbling groan, shutting out the feeble light and plunging me into complete darkness.
I didn’t know what surrounded me, and I didn’t care. Feeling my way forward, I eased into a corner, put my back to the wall and slid to the f loor. I was cold, even starting to shake, but I welcomed the discomfort.
The darkness smelled of dust, limestone, and death. But I couldn’t escape the voices, the whispers that hissed accusations in my ears, furious, hateful, completely justified.
Monster.
Demon.
Murderer.
I shivered, with cold and with shame, and buried my face in my knees, letting the accusations swirl around me.
So, this was what we really were. What I really was.
Dawn, the Guardian had told me. My final test began at dawn. If I didn’t show up for it, I would fail. And if I failed, I’d remain here forever, alone.
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As it should be.
Time slipped away. I lost myself in the darkness, listening to the voices. Sometimes they sobbed, sometimes they railed at me, cruel, vicious words filled with grief and hate. Other times they would only ask questions. Why? Why had I done this? Why had I destroyed them, their lives, their families? Why?
I couldn’t answer. Nothing I offered would bring them peace, no apo-logy would suffice for what I’d done. My words were hollow, empty.
How could I have been so blind as to want a soul? It was laughable now, to think that a soul could live inside me without being tainted by the centuries of blood and evil and death.
The voices agreed, laughing at me, mocking my quest. I didn’t deserve a soul; I didn’t deserve happiness, or peace. Why should I get my happy ending, when I’d left a swath of horror and destruction behind me wherever I went?
I had no answer for them. I was a monster. I was born in darkness, and I would die here, as well. It was better this way. Ash, the demon of the Unseelie Court, would finally perish alone, mourning the lives of those he’d destroyed.
A fitting end, I thought, giving in to the voices, letting them rail and laugh at me. I would not hurt anyone any longer. My quest ended here, in this hole of darkness and regret. And, if I didn’t die here, if I lived on forever, listening to the voices of those I’d wronged until the end of time, perhaps I would start to atone for what I had done.
“Here you are.”
I raised my head as the voice slipped out of the darkness, different from the others surrounding me that were whispering their vengeance 287/387
and hate. It was nearly pitch-black in the crypt, and I could barely move more than a few feet from where I sat. But I recognized the voice, as the gleam of golden eyes, appearing out of the darkness, f loated closer to me.
“Grimalkin.” My voice sounded raspy in my ears, as if I hadn’t used it for months, though I didn’t know how much time had passed down here.
Perhaps it had been several months. “What are you doing here?”
“I think,” Grimalkin said, blinking solemnly as he came into view,
“that is what I should be asking you. Why are you hiding out with the dead when you should be preparing for the final test?” I hunched my shoulders, closing my eyes as the voices started again, angry and painful. “Leave me, cait sith.”
“You cannot stay down here,” the cat went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“What good is it to sit here and do nothing? You help no one if you remain here and bemoan the past.”
Anger f lickered, and I raised my head to glare at him. “What would you know about it?” I whispered. “You have no conscience. You think of everything in terms of bargains and favors, caring nothing for those you have manipulated. I simply can’t forget…what I’ve done.”
“No one is asking you to forget.” Grimalkin sat down and curled his tail around himself, gazing at me. “That is the whole point of a conscience, after all —that you do not forget those you have wronged. But answer me this—how do you expect to atone for the crimes of your past if you do nothing?
Do you think your victims care now, whether you live or die?” 288/387
I had no answer for him. Grimalkin sniffed and stood up, waving his tail. His yellow eyes regarded me knowingly.
“They do not. And there is no point in obsessing about what cannot be.
They are dead, and you live. And if you fail this test, nothing changes.
The only way to ensure that you do not become that which you despise is to finish the quest you have started.” The voices hissed at me, sounding desperate, reminding me of my crimes, the blood on my hands, the lives I’d destroyed. And they were right. I could do nothing for them now. But I had been someone else then. Uncaring and soul ess. A demon, like they said. But…maybe I could start again.
Grimalkin f licked an ear and began to trot away into the shadows.
“Earn your soul, knight,” he called, his gray form fading into the dark.