Lucrys jolted awake. He looked around groggily. A small crowd had gathered before him. He could see Latrus within the center, sitting on a throne. He was forced downward, his head placed between two wooden planks. Latrus stood and the crowd grew quiet.

     Latrus walked toward Lucrys. After he covered about half the distance, he raised his palms to hush the last of the murmurs. “Quiet down, now,” he began. “I’m glad you’ve finally woken up, Lucrys. We didn’t want to kill you off in your sleep.” Latrus sighed and rubbed his eyes for a moment. “Look,” he muttered. “I feel like shit about this whole thing. But you’ve been chosen by Staara to be a stepping stone to a better world. The men and women who are gathered around me today wish for that same world, Lucrys.” Latrus stood there for a long moment.

     Lucrys could see Skaarin entering through the castle grounds’ entryway. He passed under the arch and threw his hand into the air, giving Lucrys’ a heartfelt greeting with a large, childish grin. He shuffled toward the back of the crowd nonchalantly, and pulled a cowl over his head.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     “Lucrys,” Latrus said. “Please forgive me. You came into this kingdom as a citizen with something near complete freedom. Yet you chose to commit the one thing I see as a great crime. You murdered the other free inhabitants who live within my walls. That is the one thing I cannot forgive. In the name of Staara Veigh’ Extrauta and Latrus Allurin, I am going to send you from your body. Do you have anything to say, Lucrys?”

     Lucrys forced himself to keep looking forward within his restraint. He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t even remember the events. The crimes I committed. But I’m sorry this happened.”

     “No one should’ve lived through the hell my father spread on this place.” Lucrys understood that Latrus was saying it more to him than anyone else. Almost like he was trying to apologize. “But that doesn’t give you any right to murder my people. I’m sorry for this, and I can’t apologize enough. With your sacrifice and Staara’s change, these people may come to forgive you.”

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Latrus put out his hand. He pushed his palm forward and took a deep breath. He imagined the way his magnius ran throughout his body. He created a large and thin purple blade within the structure that held Lucrys. He remembered his father, the tyrant king. Remembered that Lucrys had killed men without reason, the same way his father had. He sent the curved, concentrated magnius through Lucrys’ neck, watching as his head rolled to the floor. He turned away. At least the cut was clean. He dropped to his knees for a moment, staring off at his throne across the stonework.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Lucrys stood. He could see his body. A thin, translucent wire connected the two pieces of his severed neck. It was just as Skaarin had told him. He could still move his body normally. He walked to his head and placed it back on. His neck regenerated and he felt a sting as his body reconnected with his skull. The crowd mumbled in shock as Lucrys stood and healed. He ran as fast as he could to tackle Latrus, his heart beating fast. He willed away the thoughts that begged to assault his mind.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Skaarin rushed through the crowd pushing past people and knocking others over as he ran to the scene. Guards were rushing there, as well. He’d only have to act worried for another moment, then it would all be over. He ran from the screaming crowd as Lucrys pinned Latrus to the ground. He had to scream - had to act like he knew nothing. Acting was the easy part. “Latrus!”

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Lucrys whisked out the crude knife Skaarin had concealed on him. A knife he’d well forgotten about by now. He looked down and made the mistake of staring into Latrus’s eyes. He thought of Latrus’s warm blood running over his fingertips. Thought of being the one to take his final breath away from him. “I can’t do it, Skaarin,” he whispered. “I can’t.” He shook his head lightly, and his gaze fell upon the metal hunk at Latrus’s neck. He remembered the reward Skaarin had promised. He remembered that it was a reward. That there was only one way to get Amillara back. He forced the blade through Latrus’s chest violently, then grabbed the necklace, ripping it from the king as he ran away.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Skaarin emerged from the gathering, pushing people to the ground. Guards rushed about, but before they could get to the king, the slaughter began. Citizens and guards killed guards and citizens. The peaceful kingdom dropped its façade almost immediately. Man killed man, both to gain and to survive. Those who coward behind a king and his makeshift order drew blood they’d longed to shed.

     Skaarin slid to Latrus’s side. “Skaarin,” Latrus started. But Skaarin hushed him. He lifted him in his arms and carried him over to his throne, setting him down. He took off his crown and tussled his light, blond hair.

     “Well,” Skaarin said. A slight quiver echoed through his voice. “It looks like I got what I wanted.”

     "So... How long were you planning this?" Latrus asked.

     "Since the beginning," Skaarin replied, forcing himself to smile. It hurt. His best friend was dying right before him. He had his revenge, and he felt relieved. A smile played at his cracking lips. But he didn't want to watch Latrus go. He didn't want to lose him forever.

     "Ever since you were with Lucrys, huh? That's funny. That he came in and used you to assassinate me."

     "No, friend," Skaarin whispered with a shaking voice. "I was the one who had him assassinate you. I needed to kill Latrus, you see. I had to kill Alucin. I had to kill the bastard who raped and murdered my dear wife. I wanted to slay the fuck that burned my Aurona again. I yearned to crush Latrus. But I missed my chance. I couldn't let the next one pass me by."

     "So you forced your way through the ranks to kill me. You pretended to be my friend for years, just to have me die? You had plenty of chances, Skaarin." Latrus tried to smile. But there was nothing to be happy about. Skaarin had betrayed him. His best friend wanted him dead all along.

     "I wasn't pretending," Skaarin said, brushing his cheek. "You are the best person I could've ever had as a friend, Latrus. And you definitely became a great man in your life." Skaarin tried desperately to force back his tears. "I needed to kill Latrus," he repeated. "Even if it meant losing my best friend, I promised myself I'd carry out my goal."

     "Was it worth it?" Latrus asked. He reached for Skaarin’s face.

     "No," Skaarin replied. He grabbed Latrus's failing hand. He kept smiling. Salt droplets licked his cheeks and descended onto his king’s fair face.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     For the first time Latrus recall, Skaarin looked stressed. Latrus could see the many years Skaarin had lived written on his skin. Even with the age reversion, his days were trying to catch up to him.

     "I'm scared, Skaarin," Latrus said. He reached out to grab him again. "I've honestly never felt this scared. I must be a terrible king. To think, I'm still just a child after all this time." As Latrus grabbed at Skaarin's jacket, his fingers came to rest upon the crystal chain within. As his fingers pressed at it, he was whisked away into his memory.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Skaarin looked down. Latrus's hand had found the item that held Latrus's memory of them. He knew where Latrus was. He knew what he was experiencing. He smiled. The boy was a fine man, indeed. He'd become a great king. But he was right. He was still just a boy. As Latrus’s breathing slowed and stopped, and his hand dropped from the jacket, Skaarin hoped he’d said goodnight within the memory before Latrus had finished his final dream.

     Skaarin kissed Latrus on the forehead and turned away. He couldn’t help it. He could see Lucrys a ways away from him, standing before a ghost. It wasn’t fair. He’d finally had his revenge. He could rest. But he couldn’t hold back the tears.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Lucrys ran from Latrus, gripping the necklace as tightly as he could. Chaos ensued around him. Once he was far enough away, he looked at his prize. It was the one Skaarin had described to him. He crunched the metal between his teeth. As soon as it cracked, souls spilled forth. Ghosts erupted from a world deep within the enchanted alloy. Lucrys dropped the necklace and watched. He searched frantically as confused souls took on a humanoid form and studied their surroundings.

     They teemed forth for a few minutes, some souls sailing away into the sky, while others gathered within the chaos. Then he spotted her. Black, translucent hair draped around a faded body. She turned toward Lucrys. He picked up the necklace and walked toward her cautiously. “Mil?” he asked. It came out hoarse in his dry throat.

     Lucrys took off the ring and handed it to her. He was beaming. Finally, she was here. The real Amillara was right in front of him.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     “You’re crazy.” She whispered. His memories were too much. The Lucrys she’d longed to find in that empty plane had been lost in her absence. The Lucrys in front of her, ragged and dirtied with soot, was nothing she remembered. She gave off a faint smile. “You’re crazy,” she said again.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Skaarin bashed into Lucrys, sending him to the ground. “Isn’t that a shame?” he laughed. “Looks like you’ve gone off and scared the poor girl.” His hand wrapped around the cold steel on his back. It sliced into him. The pain bit hard as blood dripped from his hand. The wound healed slowly. “You know, Lucrys, I’m pretty jealous. Yet here you are, scaring your lover.” Skaarin sent the steel sword into Amillara’s stomach.

     Lucrys screamed at him and tried to stand. But Skaarin slapped him and stomped on him, his boot pummeling him into the dirt. “Always come prepared,” he said. “I thought a ghost might go crazy when coming back from an empty void.”

     “Lucrys!” Amillara rushed toward him. Skaarin turned again, catching the grip of the sword as Amillara moved. The pain stopped her.

     “You were right, Lucrys, she was a beauty.”

     Skaarin pulled the blade upward, through her, ripping apart her ethereal form. He made sure to hook the ring, as well. As it cut apart, Lucrys gripped his head. Amillara’s form collapsed beside Lucrys, dispersing like glass shards into the air.

     Skaarin bent low next to him. “A damn shame she was afraid of you, Lucrys,” he said. “She must’ve been a great girl before. But no soul who forgets about the memories with the one they love is worth shit.” He stood and turned away, taking a step before kicking Lucrys in the nose.

     Lucrys winced. The hit shocked him. He felt the bone splinter beneath his skin. It shifted again as it healed.

     “That one was for killing Latrus,” Skaarin snarled. He calmed himself and put his hands out. “I know, I know. I’m the one who told you to do it. It really is my fault. But I just couldn’t stand seeing you so happy over here. Me, you, and Latrus. I thought we should all have a shit day. I mean, it wouldn’t really be fair if one of us was happy, right?”

     “Fuck you,” Lucrys grunted. He spit out the blood from his now-healed wound.

     Skaarin laughed. “I’m glad you were so desperate. I think the Old World I read about lost most people like you. People who loved one person so unconditionally. You know, just like the way you loved your precious- wait, what was her name?” he teased. “Shit, that sucks. Just a damn bummer and a shame isn’t it? I mean, I’d totally be asking you for her name, but that ring you made did have all of your memories in it.” Skaarin sighed and held out his hands. “Too bad,” he said.

     “You’re shit,” Lucrys spat. His head hurt. He couldn’t piece the story together. He just felt that something was missing.

     “You know what’s worse than frozen body parts, Lucrys?”

     Skaarin whistled. Temorra came rushing over with two other guards. “I learned about this when Alucin killed my fucking wife.” He nodded at the guards. “Burn him,” he said. “If he tries to leave, hold him down. Make sure he’s nothing. Not even dust.”

     Skaarin began to walk away again, but came rushing back. “Actually,” he smiled wryly. He bent down and cut open Lucrys’ chest, ripping out his heart. As it tried to regenerate, he shoved a chunk of beating metal in its place. “Burn everything but what’s around that mechanical piece of shit,” he said. “If he keeps it long enough, his body won’t remember what was originally there.” Skaarin leaned into Lucrys face. “Maybe when you see me with this fucking thing,” he said, scratching at Lucrys’ heart. “You’ll feel sorry for stealing mine. But don’t even think about giving it back. There’s no way in hell I’m bargaining. I never want to feel that shitstain again.”

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Skaarin walked back through the Tunuurel archway and started his descent through Nuu’reil streets. As he walked, he could hear Lucrys’ screaming. He knew it damn well by now. So well, in fact, it never drowned out among the other screams that erupted from the city as he walked to its edge. Lucrys had certainly been his favorite patient. Everything about him was perfect.

     Everything.

     Right down to the yearning he held for his beloved Amillara.