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Previous Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 29: Home

Next Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 31: Another Realization

All Chapters HERE .

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CHAPTER 30: REALIZATION

Perhaps eating a whole pie on her own hadn’t been a smart move, given how feeble Malia felt. But her friends hadn’t stopped her, and the pastry had been too delicious to stop herself. It made no sense for Gorken to be such a skilled cook, and yet his humble strawberry pie rivaled immortal cuisine.

Malia had been amused to hear from Hedera that it had been Bayard’s idea to rouse her with food. Apparently, waking his sister up with the aroma of freshly baked bread had been a strategy coined along with Rose during his childhood. Gorken had been the one to pick the dish though.

“How did you know?” Malia was more than a little curious.

“You mentioned it was your favorite food when we were kids. We’re lucky your tastes haven’t changed since then.”

“Ah!” The memory of the conversation came back to Malia like a sudden hit to the face, “Yours was carrot bread!”

“Rose’s carrot bread.” Gorken corrected.

“Human food must be more complex than I first thought.” Hedera added with resigned interest; all she would ever know was the bliss of fresh water and the flavor of sunlight.

Malia didn’t know how to convey her gratitude, how to state the value of her friends’ precious concern. The silly grin that refused to leave her face wasn’t the best method of communication, but she prayed it was a start.

The creaking of the main door heralded Kadem’s return. It was oddly easy to tell when the silver witch was around; even when it wasn’t oppressing, her will was always on their minds, akin to a soft veil pervading the air.

“It’s good to see you awake, Plum.” Kadem entered the room holding a basket bursting with fruits and vegetables, “I suppose the strawberries alone would have sufficed. No matter, these won’t go to waste.”

“I’m still not sure what happened,” Malia said, “but I’m certain I owe you my thanks.”

“You do.” She put the basket down, “Though not exclusively.”

Kadem sat on the chair in front of Malia’s bedding, “It’s of vital importance that I make myself clear. Your friends are already familiar with the scolding that is coming, but they deserve to endure it as many times as I’m willing to repeat it. You lot seem to be going around thinking that I will be able to heal you, no matter what. I refuse to have your blood on my hands. You know healing magic isn’t all powerful, and neither am I. Do not pull insane stunts counting on me to cure you afterwards.”

“…It’s not like we did it on purpose.” Aldous mumbled, “I didn’t plan to get my arm lopped off. I’m sure Malia didn’t expect to get tortured like that.”

I kind of did, Malia thought, but she kept it to herself.

“And the boss wasn’t planning on almost dying of exhaustion on his way back from the castle.” Aldous went on, “There wasn’t really a choice in any of those situations.”

“There’s always a choice.” Kadem played irritably with one of her curls, “But whatever. I’ve warned you. Proceed with caution and some sliver of intelligence from now on.”

“Gorken…” Malia propped herself up on the pillows, “You’re the one who brought me back from the palace? How?”

“With Gabrielle’s help.” Gorken didn’t realize right away that he was avoiding Malia’s gaze.

“I’ll go get her.” Kadem said.

“There’s no need, witch.” Gabrielle spoke up from the door.

Malia hadn’t had the chance to grasp that her master’s name had just left Gorken’s lips, and her eyes were already landing on the dark woman. Her heart paused, or maybe it was beating too fast. It had taken Malia so long to accept that her master wouldn’t come back… and yet there she was, glaring down at her with her usual condescendence as if she had never vanished in the first place. “…Master…!”

Something was different though. In Malia’s recollections Gabrielle was a tall, strong woman, always imposing in her stance, always ready for anything and everything. A stern warrior as strict with herself as she was with others. Now her master looked… weakened? Sick? Her eyes were brighter than Malia remembered, her posture sluggish somehow.

“I heard you got beaten by Dorina of all people.” Gabrielle scoffed, “You’re a failure.”

It is my master all right. Malia was used to Gabrielle’s mannerisms, but the blow still landed. She had trained for so long, learned so much… and failed at every turn. She had been saved again. She had no right to defy her master’s words.

“That’s strange.” Gorken intervened, “Giving it your all to save a failure wouldn’t make much sense. To a rational person, anyway.”

Gabrielle didn’t meet Malia’s hopeful stare, and instead walked calmly and silently towards Gorken. Then the dark woman punched him in the stomach with such speed and force that he bent forward, shocked and breathless; she left the room without saying a word.

Aldous exchanged a perplexed look with Bayard, ambivalent on whether to laugh or be outraged, and Bayard answered with a puzzled shrug.

“Thank you, Gorken.” Malia smiled at him.

“What for?” he frowned, “I didn’t think she had that much power left in her.”

“She hit you,” Malia’s chest grew with modest joy, “but she didn’t refute what you said. She didn’t deny it.”

Gabrielle’s presence linked many of the stray pieces of events in Malia’s head: her master’s magic, knowledge of the castle and raw strength made the astounding feat of getting her out of the dungeon plausible. Even so, she was eager to hear Gorken’s retelling of what had transpired.

Gorken obliged, binding everyone in the room with his organized, detailed account. His composed tale was nothing but a trick. A well-built scheme so that, after earnestly disclosing each and every small fact, he would be able to prudently skip the developments that plagued him with misgivings.

Malia’s eyes had widened at the mention of Lyra, and Gorken had benefitted from her excitement to gloss over the moment they entered her cell, focusing instead on Lyra’s current whereabouts. “She left with Kadem this morning to gather food, so she should be back soon.”

Kadem confirmed it with a nod, “No harm will come to her in my forest.”

Malia’s enthusiasm at the prospect of getting to see Lyra was palpable, a thrilling distraction, so Gorken finished his tale casually, “Once we were out of the castle, I brought you here as fast as I could, while Gabrielle and Lyra took their time to arrive. They got here a couple of days later, I think.”

“Boy, you forgot about the best part.” Gabrielle’s voice shocked him. No one had noticed her coming back in, and Gorken knew her smirk meant she would expose him. “You should be proud of the way you tortured Cain to death. I, for one, never liked him.”

Gorken didn’t need to look at Malia to discern her confused anguish. He inhaled deeply.

“You… killed him?” Malia’s was more a plea than a question, “You tortured him…?” It was clear she didn’t want to believe it. She wished to hear Gorken say that he had been forced to do it, that in a life or death situation he had been left with no choice. But Gorken was done lying.

“I did.” He said, “I made him pay for his actions.”

“Gorken… you don’t get to do that! You can’t take that back!” There won’t be a next time now, Malia thought grievously. She couldn’t get Cain’s sobbing out of her skull, and then for some reason the image of Dorina’s severed head came back to her.

“He couldn’t take back what he did, either.” Gorken retorted, “I won’t apologize for killing an immortal murderer, nor for enjoying it.”

“Enjoying…!?” Malia’s blood was ablaze, “You have no right to judge other people… to decide in cold blood whether they live or die!”

“I disagree.” Licorice’s tranquil voice was silent lightning, halting the clash that everyone else had merely been spectating, “Judging is a human concept. Suggesting that judgment belongs to a higher entity and is out of an individual’s reach, is both illogical and arrogant. Human judgment comes from a pre-established consensus about what is right and what is wrong. Thus, only an individual conscience can judge another.”

Licorice’s monotone reasoning appeased Malia’s spirit, so the princess had the opportunity to collect herself, “If that’s what you think… then it only proves that we shouldn’t allow our fallible feelings to rule over life and death. Our perspective, what we believe, it’s malleable. It can change. Death can’t. It’s final.” You can’t take it back…

“Once more, I disagree. Death is more natural than you humans are willing to admit. Finality is sometimes needed to keep harmonious coexistence. I don’t see the problem in personally punishing and removing those who have wronged you.”

“Licorice... is it really that hard to understand that murdering feels wrong?” Malia asked, “I’m not naïve enough to think there’s always an alternative to violence, but… some gut feelings are undeniable. Making someone else suffer, ending them entirely… that can’t be good.”

Licorice’s expression darkened, “That is the approach I despise the most. Forfeiting logic in favor of asserting that your gut feeling is correct… What about mine, then? Is my emotional impulse to seek vengeance and protect those I hold dear not correct? Why can you ascertain what is good? Can you judge me, and judge Gorken, with that scornful look on your face?”

Malia’s lack of response and her distressed expression angered Licorice, “It must be quite comfortable to believe in justice while never being willing to carry out the sentence; to think that the world will make those you hate pay, as if the world was an abstract being and not simply other people. Such hypocrisy irks me.”

“Who’s judging who now? Who’s the one with a scornful look on her face?” Malia met Licorice’s glare, “There isn’t one answer. We could argue endlessly about potential scenarios and when to kill and when to seek peaceful understanding. But don’t pretend you’re above it all. You’re just as offended that I don’t share your opinion as I am that Gorken… that Gorken executed Cain… ” Malia shifted her focus, glancing at him, “That he robbed me of choosing how to deal with Cain. Now I’ll never know what I would have done, or what my cousin could have become.”

“That specific argument, I can understand.” Licorice agreed.

During the following silence, for the first time, Gorken regretted his stance on the matter. It wasn’t that he thought it was morally commendable to torture someone he hated; he was no hero, after all. In the harsh, indifferent world he knew, he had always been a resentful soldier fighting against cruelty. He hadn’t had the luxury of keeping his hands clean, and he had never cared to.

That wasn’t how Malia saw him though. It dawned on Gorken that maybe, to her, he was some kind of noble hero. Suddenly, any justification for his vindictiveness and spite sounded like an empty excuse to him. He didn’t feel he was wrong. Gorken had survived so far because of who he was. But at the same time, thinking Malia would begin to perceive him as he perceived himself became a dreadful notion.

“Malia, I…”

“Guys,” Malia interrupted him, noticing she didn’t have the energy to stay upright, “I’m a little tired. Let’s continue later. Thank you all… for everything.”

Aldous and Bayard got up first, followed by Hedera and Licorice. Gabrielle left looking strangely satisfied. Kadem was the only one who didn’t move; it was her job to oversee Malia’s physical condition. Gorken lingered near the door for long moments, and then he withdrew too.

Malia closed her eyes. As she fell asleep, everything that had been said echoed inside her. Had she been unfair? Selfish? Pushy? She wasn’t sure. She was sad, and exhausted. Deep down she felt she was right. But she couldn’t find it in her to begrudge Gorken, to be disappointed in him. It was scary to realize that she would still love him fiercely no matter what he did. That didn’t seem healthy. And yet, it was the truth.

Description

Previous Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 29: Home

Next Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 31: Another Realization

All Chapters HERE .

Watch the Trailer: ENDLESS Trailer

CHAPTER 30: REALIZATION

Perhaps eating a whole pie on her own hadn’t been a smart move, given how feeble Malia felt. But her friends hadn’t stopped her, and the pastry had been too delicious to stop herself. It made no sense for Gorken to be such a skilled cook, and yet his humble strawberry pie rivaled immortal cuisine.

Malia had been amused to hear from Hedera that it had been Bayard’s idea to rouse her with food. Apparently, waking his sister up with the aroma of freshly baked bread had been a strategy coined along with Rose during his childhood. Gorken had been the one to pick the dish though.

“How did you know?” Malia was more than a little curious.

“You mentioned it was your favorite food when we were kids. We’re lucky your tastes haven’t changed since then.”

“Ah!” The memory of the conversation came back to Malia like a sudden hit to the face, “Yours was carrot bread!”

“Rose’s carrot bread.” Gorken corrected.

“Human food must be more complex than I first thought.” Hedera added with resigned interest; all she would ever know was the bliss of fresh water and the flavor of sunlight.

Malia didn’t know how to convey her gratitude, how to state the value of her friends’ precious concern. The silly grin that refused to leave her face wasn’t the best method of communication, but she prayed it was a start.

The creaking of the main door heralded Kadem’s return. It was oddly easy to tell when the silver witch was around; even when it wasn’t oppressing, her will was always on their minds, akin to a soft veil pervading the air.

“It’s good to see you awake, Plum.” Kadem entered the room holding a basket bursting with fruits and vegetables, “I suppose the strawberries alone would have sufficed. No matter, these won’t go to waste.”

“I’m still not sure what happened,” Malia said, “but I’m certain I owe you my thanks.”

“You do.” She put the basket down, “Though not exclusively.”

Kadem sat on the chair in front of Malia’s bedding, “It’s of vital importance that I make myself clear. Your friends are already familiar with the scolding that is coming, but they deserve to endure it as many times as I’m willing to repeat it. You lot seem to be going around thinking that I will be able to heal you, no matter what. I refuse to have your blood on my hands. You know healing magic isn’t all powerful, and neither am I. Do not pull insane stunts counting on me to cure you afterwards.”

“…It’s not like we did it on purpose.” Aldous mumbled, “I didn’t plan to get my arm lopped off. I’m sure Malia didn’t expect to get tortured like that.”

I kind of did, Malia thought, but she kept it to herself.

“And the boss wasn’t planning on almost dying of exhaustion on his way back from the castle.” Aldous went on, “There wasn’t really a choice in any of those situations.”

“There’s always a choice.” Kadem played irritably with one of her curls, “But whatever. I’ve warned you. Proceed with caution and some sliver of intelligence from now on.”

“Gorken…” Malia propped herself up on the pillows, “You’re the one who brought me back from the palace? How?”

“With Gabrielle’s help.” Gorken didn’t realize right away that he was avoiding Malia’s gaze.

“I’ll go get her.” Kadem said.

“There’s no need, witch.” Gabrielle spoke up from the door.

Malia hadn’t had the chance to grasp that her master’s name had just left Gorken’s lips, and her eyes were already landing on the dark woman. Her heart paused, or maybe it was beating too fast. It had taken Malia so long to accept that her master wouldn’t come back… and yet there she was, glaring down at her with her usual condescendence as if she had never vanished in the first place. “…Master…!”

Something was different though. In Malia’s recollections Gabrielle was a tall, strong woman, always imposing in her stance, always ready for anything and everything. A stern warrior as strict with herself as she was with others. Now her master looked… weakened? Sick? Her eyes were brighter than Malia remembered, her posture sluggish somehow.

“I heard you got beaten by Dorina of all people.” Gabrielle scoffed, “You’re a failure.”

It is my master all right. Malia was used to Gabrielle’s mannerisms, but the blow still landed. She had trained for so long, learned so much… and failed at every turn. She had been saved again. She had no right to defy her master’s words.

“That’s strange.” Gorken intervened, “Giving it your all to save a failure wouldn’t make much sense. To a rational person, anyway.”

Gabrielle didn’t meet Malia’s hopeful stare, and instead walked calmly and silently towards Gorken. Then the dark woman punched him in the stomach with such speed and force that he bent forward, shocked and breathless; she left the room without saying a word.

Aldous exchanged a perplexed look with Bayard, ambivalent on whether to laugh or be outraged, and Bayard answered with a puzzled shrug.

“Thank you, Gorken.” Malia smiled at him.

“What for?” he frowned, “I didn’t think she had that much power left in her.”

“She hit you,” Malia’s chest grew with modest joy, “but she didn’t refute what you said. She didn’t deny it.”

Gabrielle’s presence linked many of the stray pieces of events in Malia’s head: her master’s magic, knowledge of the castle and raw strength made the astounding feat of getting her out of the dungeon plausible. Even so, she was eager to hear Gorken’s retelling of what had transpired.

Gorken obliged, binding everyone in the room with his organized, detailed account. His composed tale was nothing but a trick. A well-built scheme so that, after earnestly disclosing each and every small fact, he would be able to prudently skip the developments that plagued him with misgivings.

Malia’s eyes had widened at the mention of Lyra, and Gorken had benefitted from her excitement to gloss over the moment they entered her cell, focusing instead on Lyra’s current whereabouts. “She left with Kadem this morning to gather food, so she should be back soon.”

Kadem confirmed it with a nod, “No harm will come to her in my forest.”

Malia’s enthusiasm at the prospect of getting to see Lyra was palpable, a thrilling distraction, so Gorken finished his tale casually, “Once we were out of the castle, I brought you here as fast as I could, while Gabrielle and Lyra took their time to arrive. They got here a couple of days later, I think.”

“Boy, you forgot about the best part.” Gabrielle’s voice shocked him. No one had noticed her coming back in, and Gorken knew her smirk meant she would expose him. “You should be proud of the way you tortured Cain to death. I, for one, never liked him.”

Gorken didn’t need to look at Malia to discern her confused anguish. He inhaled deeply.

“You… killed him?” Malia’s was more a plea than a question, “You tortured him…?” It was clear she didn’t want to believe it. She wished to hear Gorken say that he had been forced to do it, that in a life or death situation he had been left with no choice. But Gorken was done lying.

“I did.” He said, “I made him pay for his actions.”

“Gorken… you don’t get to do that! You can’t take that back!” There won’t be a next time now, Malia thought grievously. She couldn’t get Cain’s sobbing out of her skull, and then for some reason the image of Dorina’s severed head came back to her.

“He couldn’t take back what he did, either.” Gorken retorted, “I won’t apologize for killing an immortal murderer, nor for enjoying it.”

“Enjoying…!?” Malia’s blood was ablaze, “You have no right to judge other people… to decide in cold blood whether they live or die!”

“I disagree.” Licorice’s tranquil voice was silent lightning, halting the clash that everyone else had merely been spectating, “Judging is a human concept. Suggesting that judgment belongs to a higher entity and is out of an individual’s reach, is both illogical and arrogant. Human judgment comes from a pre-established consensus about what is right and what is wrong. Thus, only an individual conscience can judge another.”

Licorice’s monotone reasoning appeased Malia’s spirit, so the princess had the opportunity to collect herself, “If that’s what you think… then it only proves that we shouldn’t allow our fallible feelings to rule over life and death. Our perspective, what we believe, it’s malleable. It can change. Death can’t. It’s final.” You can’t take it back…

“Once more, I disagree. Death is more natural than you humans are willing to admit. Finality is sometimes needed to keep harmonious coexistence. I don’t see the problem in personally punishing and removing those who have wronged you.”

“Licorice... is it really that hard to understand that murdering feels wrong?” Malia asked, “I’m not naïve enough to think there’s always an alternative to violence, but… some gut feelings are undeniable. Making someone else suffer, ending them entirely… that can’t be good.”

Licorice’s expression darkened, “That is the approach I despise the most. Forfeiting logic in favor of asserting that your gut feeling is correct… What about mine, then? Is my emotional impulse to seek vengeance and protect those I hold dear not correct? Why can you ascertain what is good? Can you judge me, and judge Gorken, with that scornful look on your face?”

Malia’s lack of response and her distressed expression angered Licorice, “It must be quite comfortable to believe in justice while never being willing to carry out the sentence; to think that the world will make those you hate pay, as if the world was an abstract being and not simply other people. Such hypocrisy irks me.”

“Who’s judging who now? Who’s the one with a scornful look on her face?” Malia met Licorice’s glare, “There isn’t one answer. We could argue endlessly about potential scenarios and when to kill and when to seek peaceful understanding. But don’t pretend you’re above it all. You’re just as offended that I don’t share your opinion as I am that Gorken… that Gorken executed Cain… ” Malia shifted her focus, glancing at him, “That he robbed me of choosing how to deal with Cain. Now I’ll never know what I would have done, or what my cousin could have become.”

“That specific argument, I can understand.” Licorice agreed.

During the following silence, for the first time, Gorken regretted his stance on the matter. It wasn’t that he thought it was morally commendable to torture someone he hated; he was no hero, after all. In the harsh, indifferent world he knew, he had always been a resentful soldier fighting against cruelty. He hadn’t had the luxury of keeping his hands clean, and he had never cared to.

That wasn’t how Malia saw him though. It dawned on Gorken that maybe, to her, he was some kind of noble hero. Suddenly, any justification for his vindictiveness and spite sounded like an empty excuse to him. He didn’t feel he was wrong. Gorken had survived so far because of who he was. But at the same time, thinking Malia would begin to perceive him as he perceived himself became a dreadful notion.

“Malia, I…”

“Guys,” Malia interrupted him, noticing she didn’t have the energy to stay upright, “I’m a little tired. Let’s continue later. Thank you all… for everything.”

Aldous and Bayard got up first, followed by Hedera and Licorice. Gabrielle left looking strangely satisfied. Kadem was the only one who didn’t move; it was her job to oversee Malia’s physical condition. Gorken lingered near the door for long moments, and then he withdrew too.

Malia closed her eyes. As she fell asleep, everything that had been said echoed inside her. Had she been unfair? Selfish? Pushy? She wasn’t sure. She was sad, and exhausted. Deep down she felt she was right. But she couldn’t find it in her to begrudge Gorken, to be disappointed in him. It was scary to realize that she would still love him fiercely no matter what he did. That didn’t seem healthy. And yet, it was the truth.