Chapter 8: Never Forget Our role

  Two days had passed since I took Jacob’s life. For those two days, I hadn’t left my bed, drowning in the weight of guilt and grief. My chest felt heavy, my mind clouded with the haunting memories of his final words and the blade I’d plunged into his back.

  And yet, today was the day I dreaded more than anything—the day I would write Moore’s name in the Book, marking his death and the beginning of his daughter’s tenure as Enforcer of the Fallen.

  The thought consumed me as I lay beneath the covers, shielding myself from the world. The muffled sounds of the estate beyond my room barely registered in my ears until the sudden snap of drapes being thrown open flooded the room with piercing sunlight.

  I winced, turning away as Morbius stood in the middle of the room, his crimson eyes locked on me, unyielding. “It’s time to get up, my Lord,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

  I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. “Go away, Morbius.”

  He cleared his throat, his voice growing sharper. “Lord Marquette, I’ve allowed you two days to wallow in your grief, but that time has passed. You have duties to attend to. The Fallen waits for no one—not even you.”

  Ignoring him, I pressed a pillow over my head. The world outside could wait a little longer.

  Morbius sighed, the sound of his patience thinning. In one swift motion, he ripped the covers off me. His voice cut through the air like a blade. “This is not the day for one of your childish outbursts, my Lord.”

  Something inside me snapped at his words. Anger surged to the surface, mixed with the sorrow I’d tried to bury. I sat up abruptly, my voice trembling with frustration. “You think this is easy for me, Morbius? You think I wanted to kill one of my closest friends?”

  He didn’t flinch, meeting my gaze with a steady, almost sympathetic intensity. He sat down on the edge of my bed, his crimson eyes glowing softly, as if he were attempting to convey warmth in their unnatural hue.

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  “Marquette,” he began, his voice calm but firm, “I know it wasn’t easy. But you did what needed to be done. Don’t you think it was better for Jacob to die by your hand? He trusted you. If you hadn’t done it, the Fallen would have killed him without mercy or dignity.”

  I looked away, the truth in his words stinging more than I cared to admit. Morbius was right, of course. Jacob’s fate had been sealed the moment he lost his will to fight, his ability to lead. The rules of the Fallen were absolute, and my duty as Bookkeeper demanded that I enforce them.

  But that didn’t make it any easier.

  I stood, pacing the room as I wrestled with the conflicting emotions raging inside me. “What’s the point of all this, Morbius? What are we really fighting for?”

  Morbius tilted his head, a faint look of confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean, my Lord? We fight for the people—for their safety, their peace.”

  I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Do we? The people hate the Fallen, Morbius. They curse our names and blame us for everything wrong in their lives, and yet they remain ignorant of the truth—that we secretly run this kingdom, that their precious King Tomo does nothing but sit on his throne while we make the hard decisions.”

  Morbius rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying. “That hatred was inevitable, my Lord. After the war with the demons, the people needed a scapegoat. And King Tomo, in his infinite wisdom, pointed the finger at the noble families of the Fallen. It’s easier to hate the ones in the shadows than the one sitting in the light.”

  I stopped pacing, sinking onto the edge of the nightstand. “And yet, they trust him. The same king who nearly gave our kingdom away to the demons. How can they be so blind?”

  For a moment, Morbius hesitated, his gaze flickering away from mine. There was something he wasn’t telling me, something he didn’t want me to know.

  “It’s… complicated,” he said finally.

  My frustration flared again. “Don’t treat me like a child, Morbius. I am the Bookkeeper of the Fallen. If there’s something I need to know, you will tell me.”

  He shook his head, rising to his feet. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but I am bound by blood oath. I cannot speak of what transpired during the war. If you wish to know the truth, you’ll have to consult the Book itself.”

  I clenched my fists, anger and curiosity warring within me. “Then I will. But not today.”

  Morbius nodded, his expression softening slightly. “That is wise. For now, your focus must remain on the Fallen. Moore’s name must be written, and his daughter must take his place. The meeting is soon, my Lord. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

  As he moved toward the door, he paused, glancing back at me. “I know you’ve grown weary of the Fallen and its motives, Marquette. But you know as well as I do that our purpose is righteous. We bear the burdens others cannot, so that the people may live in peace—even if they never understand or appreciate it.”

  I walked to the largest window in the room, gazing out at the sprawling estate below as sunlight bathed the land in a golden glow. “But at what cost, Morbius? How many lives must we sacrifice? How many futures, pasts, and dreams must we destroy for this so-called peace? What do we have to show for it?”

  Morbius lingered in the doorway for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Perhaps that’s a question we’re all searching for, my Lord.”

  With that, he left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

  I stood there for a long time, staring out at the horizon. The weight of the day ahead pressed down on me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was an answer waiting to be found.