Chapter 21: Dying Lights.


    Nero’s new home was a cell, dark, damp, wet, crusty and humid. His arrest was a swift one, apparently the Chief was not in a particularly forgiving mood when he had arrived.


    ‘You did the right thing, you did the right thing, you did the right thing.’ He repeated in his mind. It was the only way he could bear the horror that awaited him.


    Most of his thoughts, however, weren’t on himself, no, that was reserved for someone else. “Are you going to die, Nero?” Ember asked, voice like shattered glass.


    She was a soft golden light in the ocean of darkness.


    “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Nero told her, wearing a smile that he knew didn’t quite sit right in his face. “After the fight with Selvas, I realised something, since the old Light Breather is dead and you’re still around that should at least mean that my death won’t cause yours.”


    It relied on a few assumptions and it wasn’t necessarily something Nero would have wanted to test if he had many other options but it at least brought him some peace knowing that Ember would likely be fine without him.


    He expected to see some form of relief in the imp’s eyes. Only fury exploded in its place. “I’m not worried about myself, you idiot.” She snapped. A surprising reaction to get from her. “I don’t want to see you die!”


    “What a coincidence, because I don’t want to see me die either.”


    “Now’s not the time for jokes!”


    “I mean, I don’t really think I’m going to be capable of telling jokes by the end of today, so-”


    “I’m serious!” She cut in.


    Nero’s eyes fell. “I know you are… I just… It feels easier to talk about things this way.”


    “Not for me.” Ember said. Thin orange streams of fire ran down her cheeks. She was sobbing, he realised, and Nero felt sick to have been the cause. “I… don’t want you to die, I want you to understand how much I don’t want you to die, and I want you to come up with a stupid risky and horrible plan about how you’re not going to die, that I’m going to disagree with and call you reckless, foolish and a big stupid head for even considering it, but somehow still work, at which point I take all the credit for it.”


    Nero wasn’t surprised to find himself wearing a smile at that. What surprised him was how this one wasn’t fake. It didn’t last long however. “I’m sorry Ember.. I just, I can’t… I think this is it.” The end of the road.


    Her face fell and her light died ever so slightly. The poor girl looked on the verge of being snuffed out.


    “The Light consults with his Guardian.” Nero jumped at the voice, rough, gruff, like the sound of men marching against gravel.


    The door to the dungeon opened, causing a stream of eye-piercing light to spill in. Nero winced and when he opened his eyes the Chieftain was standing in front of him, separated only by the bars between them.


    He looked at Nero like a cat might a five legged mouse. An idle curiosity, but one that was in no way a threat. “So, you’re real.” He said.


    Ember zipped in front of Nero, placing herself in between him and the Demon. He could see her trembling, she was scared, perhaps even half as scared as he was, but she was there.


    Nero couldn’t help but admire that.


    His priorities were on the Demon. He set his eyes on him in what he hoped was an intimidating glare. It probably wasn’t, he was behind bars, bruised, tired and nursing an arrow wound to the shoulder.


    The Chief sniffed. “I should send word of your arrival to the Circle, the higher ups would want me to keep you alive. They’d have questions for you, they might even send down a Warden to conduct the interrogation.”


    Just at the thought of Mercury arriving, Nero almost emptied what little he had in his stomach onto the ground. Memories of death and anguish swam around in his mind like serrated edges along an open wound.


    “Ah, you’ve met one then.” The Demon remarked.


    ‘Calm down, Nero, this is a good thing.’ That meant he wouldn''t be dying today then. He likely wouldn’tbe dying until however long it might take for Mercury to show up.


    That gave him time to scheme, time to find a way out of this hole he’d dug himself into. Nero fanned the embers of hope that grew in him.


    That didn’t stop what the Chieftain said next from killing them at their infancy. “I won’t be doing that.” The Chieftain added, chin up, proud, defiant. “After I have done the work of capturing this cycle''s Light Breather, I will not have them give the credit of his execution to some Warden.”


    Nero’s heart dropped at his words. The cell suddenly seemed smaller and the room darker.


    “Your head will roll by morning light.” He told him.


    Nero tried to think of something witty to say, but before his cogs could even begin moving, the Chief already had his back turned to him. When they finally did, nothing came.


    The bastard had crushed Nero and he doubted he even knew that he’d done it. He’d made him remember what it felt like to look forward to tomorrow.


    The Chief made his way up the stairs and slammed the door shut, locking Nero once again in the colourless void that would be home until he died.


    Nero didn’t know how long he spent wallowing in the darkness. First there was self pity, then anger, then sadness, then more self pity, and right now he had graduated from feeling just one emotion to some heightened symphony of anguish he hadn’t even known was possible.


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    That all changed at a sound.


    “Boo.”


    Nero jumped, saw Selvas in front of him and found that his tongue had turned to lead.


    She lit a lamp next to her to properly illuminate the room. Now he could see the proud grin she was wearing for scaring a soon-to-be-dead man.


    “Selvas.” Nero greeted, laughing despite it all.


    “Light Breather.” She replied.


    “D-don’t call me that, that’s not my name.” Nero shook his head.


    Selvas shrugged. “Fine then.”


    “Thank you.” He sighed.


    “You came back.” Selvas noted. Her eyes were still once again, as cold as they ever had been but Nero couldn’t help but feel a hint of warmth radiating them.


    “Yes, I’m as surprised as you are honestly.” He huffed. “All in all, not the warm welcome I was expecting.”


    “You’ve gotten yourself killed.”


    “Why gee golly Selvas, I hadn’t noticed.”


    “Thank you.”


    It was Nero’s turn to be short on words. He looked away.


    Selvas, perhaps for the first time, was the one to break the silence. “I hear you have a Guardian Imp.”


    “You mean Ember?” The Chief had also called her that.


    “Ah, so that’s her name.” Selvas hummed. The woman’s eyes seemed wider, filled with awe and wonder where he’d come to expect grim acceptance. “She’s been with you this whole time?”


    “Tell her, she’s pretty!” Ember chirped.


    “Yes, you have no idea how hard it was not to seem like a crazy person while talking to someone no one else can see.”


    “Tell her she’s pretyyyy!” Ember nagged.


    Nero rolled his eyes.


    “What did she say?” Selvas asked immediately.


    “She said I should tell you that she thinks you’re very pretty.” Nero smiled.


    Selvas grinned. “That’s nice of her.” The flame flickered gently across her face, peeking through her hair with a soft ambient glow. Sat there, eyes flitting around his cell to see if she might catch a glimpse of Ember, she looked ever so captivating, almost a privilege. Something to be seen only once and remembered forever..


    An elusive snow leopard in the heights of the himalayas.


    “That makes two of us, you know.” He added.


    Selvas raised an eyebrow. “Flirting before your execution?”


    “Oh come on.” He chuckled. “We would have made a good couple.”


    “Last time we met, you hit me.” She noted.


    “Oh come on, I think my recent actions have more than made up for that.”


    Selvas looked at him as if he’d just farted.


    Ember sighed, shaking her head as if she’d just witnessed a horrific car crash. “I can’t watch this.” She said and zipped out through the window.


    “Okay, that came out wrong.” He admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat. “What I meant was, it’s not fair to-”


    Selvas reached a pale hand up and pressed her palm softly against the side of his face. She drew Nero in with but a touch and leaned closer herself.


    Her eyes were narrower now, the way they always were when she was aiming at something. When she coveted, Nero liked how it felt to be coveted by her.


    She pressed her lips against his cheek and a wave of warmth flowed through Nero. For a moment, just a moment, but a moment nonetheless, all his problems were washed away.


    Selvas leaned back, a small smile on her beautiful lips. “I guess we would have made a good couple.”


    Nero let out a soft groan.


    Selvas’ features wrinkled in concern. “What’s wrong?”


    “Nothing.” He said quickly, shaking his head.


    “Speak.”


    “Fine, fine.”He shrugged. “It’s just… I mean… a kiss on the cheek, that’s it?.”


    Selvas blinked.


    “You do know I’m going to be dying tomorrow, yes?” He threw his hands up inoffensively. “I’m just saying, feels a bit underwhelming is all.”


    Selvas’ lips were suddenly stiff. “Did you think I was going to blow you?”


    “No!” Nero objected, strongly. Even waving a disapproving finger and all. “But… I would not have strongly protested if you had perhaps seen it fit under your best judgement.”


    Selvas let out a non-committal hum.


    Then silence followed, and the two just stared at each other.


    “I’m not going to blow you Nero.”


    “Well, maybe you should have told me that before I turned myself in.” He huffed.


    Selvas laughed.


    It was a sweet laugh, and Nero wanted to listen to it forever. But soon enough it came to a stop, and she looked at him with sad eyes.


    “It’s okay.” He told her.


    “It’s not.” She refuted.


    “It’s not.” He agreed. “But this is just how it is.”


    Selvas nodded, turned off her lamp and slid back into the dark.


    The moment she was out of sight Nero wanted to scream, he wanted to beg her to save him. To tell her he’d made a mistake, to lie, deceive, cheat and do everything he possibly could to get out of here, no matter the cost to anyone but himself.


    Instead he just pressed his back against the wall and slid down it with a weak sigh.


    Morning came far too quickly and Nero hated that he hadn’t cherished every single second he had before it.


    The door swung open and the Executioner, Selvas’ father, followed the light that spilled in.


    He had cold eyes, ones that didn’t invite conversation. That was good, as Nero didn’t particularly find himself in the mood for any as of the moment. He opened his cell, turned, and without another word, Nero followed.


    Perhaps he should have said something, but Nero was almost certain that anything he did saywould be meaningless.


    They were both men with their fates tied by Demons. He was the lucky one in that he got to escape. The executioner suffered the task of leading others to an exit he could not pass.


    They emerged out into Stradale and Nero saw the crowd looking at him. It seemed the entire town was out here. He didn’t look at their faces, he couldn’t stand the sight of what he might see.


    He only wished he could close his ears and deliver himself from the crushing sound of Ember crying.


    Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended like this if he was stronger, smarter, faster, less Nero. But it did and there was nothing he could do about it.


    He met the eyes of the Chief. The width of his grin made his head seem too small for his mouth. He looked like the lion on the verge of a feast. And Nero was the prey.


    “Up the stool.” The executioner grunted.


    Nero set his eyes on the noose above and nodded. The rope had runes etched into it. He assumed that would be because gravity alone couldn’t be enough to kill a good number of people in this world.


    If it were any other day he might have let himself wonder how exactly the runes made up for that fact.


    Today the crushing despair was far too much for his mind to explore.


    He got up the stool, put his neck through the noose and shut his eyes. He didn’t want the last thing he saw to be the mortified faces of a people as they watched their prophesied saviour kick out helplessly and die.


    It would be terrible he knew, but he doubted the death itself could be anywhere close to the dread he felt at the wait. Nero stood there, knowing that every second could be his last, that every moment brought him closer to the one where the executioner would kick the stool out from underneath him.


    He felt the executioner fasten the nose around his neck.


    God, he could still fight, try to run, get away, he could-


    Nero was falling, his heart lurched.


    The rope caught him by the neck. It tightened, hard, like a serpent squeezing all the life out of him. It hurt to breathe, then he could’t.


    Desperately clawed at the rope, but it wouldn’t give, only tightening. He coughed, wheezed. A pressure in his head grew and grew until it felt like his skull was about to come apart.


    God, he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want this, he never wanted any of this.


    He was scared. So, so scared.


    There was screaming, crying, laughter. To think this symphony of expression would be the last thing he heard.


    Nero’s mind was drifting now, his clawing had weakened and weakened until it had stopped all together.


    He didn’t accept it, no, far from it, but there was no denying it. Nero was dying.


    Something snapped and Nero was falling.


    He met something hard, opened his eyes to find himself coughing and wheezing on the floor. Above him was a cut rope.


    In front of him was the crowd, behind it was Selvas, purple eyes narrow, crossbow in hand.


    “Look out!” She screamed, just in time to let Nero see her father’s axe whistling for his neck.