Until This World Ends

Ch17: Whose Torment

The chaos wasn't over after the Goddess' banishment to Loric's torture chambers. There was a castle to make a proclamation over, with rulership to establish.

But first, they had to figure out who the depths had survived the attack on the throne.

Regis didn't have it sorted out by the time that Gareth walked into the capital—with the army in tow. City life had picked back up by then, as rumors spread that the monster had been slain. A few braver souls walked into the castle and witnessed the aftermath for themselves. They dined at the more timid people's tables.

Various lords came out of hiding. Almost none of them were in the room that day. They all clamored for something. For most, it was restitution for damages they didn't personally receive. There were petitions to change his betrothal or get it over with. The requests for a seat on the council pissed Regis off. It was plenty of stress for nothing, as many of them wanted more accolades and no work.

Rexius' high priest—the man who ruled the temple a hill away from the decimation—had been. His first demand was for Regis to remove Miran, the gardener's title, as well as council. The resulting fight left the man refusing to confirm the former crown prince's marriage.

Not that he wanted to get married.

Nor did he need his father's high priest.

Each knight was a laypriest, technically. Regis had married people, midwifed babies into the world, officiated funerals. He weilded the whole breadth of the authority vested in him, all when he had been a nobody.

But he was still a king's son, and the status of his chosen priest meant something.

Dumbass seemed to forget that the next city over had a high priest who was fond of the king's foolish son. Still, it left the city in turmoil until Gareth marched into town with the full might of their religious military backing him.

The petty bastard squawked about jurisdiction and searched for Vajin-Rex in the sea of heroes. The swordmaster threatened to punch him for crossing the rightful heir. Regis' cousin wanted the throne even less than he did. It had everything to do with the way that their war with Demonkind was going.

So Gareth married Regis to the one woman he mistrusted above all others, for the sake of the nation's stability. Instead of in the church, where the King's Cross priest barricaded himself, he married Symphora in the town square. His simple peck on her cheek awakened her to the enormity of his greeting earlier that week: "Your sole purpose in this life is leading this nation."

Regis left the woman, who had alternately betrayed and sacrificed for him, in charge of his home. This time, she would be his queen.

Every incident was over her little faction in the world, after all. She'd sacrifice him again, here and now, to save Asheradama. He may put her in that selfsame position, but he'd let the nation fall if she crossed him. Every noble was well aware that Easternmarch no longer existed due to not bowing to his will. There was no way she could be blind to her role.

It was sufficient for the newly crowned king that she'd never be near him on a battlefield.

For the next year, Regis split his time between Ashera's trap, rifts, and various training grounds. Everyone honed their skills for the coming greater battles.

Leoric never stepped foot inside her cell. His fear was that his faith was false. She must have held some part of him back that would make him question her. He didn't need that, with his faith being the catalyst for the scepter's work.

It left Regis doing tasks he had no heart for but wouldn't matter if he did. He did the darker deeds for Leoric in that era. What was another life? Hin and Vorex remained Leoric's everyday barrier, but they specifically called their king into harvest powers.

Of the options for power on the field? Her heart made their wings. Her right arm was a fighter's strength. Her bowels forged their energy core. Her left leg was their claws. Various other parts could be rendered into powers. Those were untested in battle.

And some were foul violations of the contract between Goddess and man. Regis had threatened to take them all but did not like the risks. She took so long to recover from being pierced through. Nothing was more disconcerting than to see a gaping hole through her chest, knowing they depended on her.

But it was her comments as he came in to claim each power that tormented the king.

"You were always hard to coerce, but make something a sacrifice, and you'd give everything."

Regis had been close to unlocking the full length of the spear through her ribs. He had to ignore how she bared her chest to show him the scar where she had been repeatedly pierced. Much like every life lived alone, he was shaken by his mind's wandering. Worse, he wished he was doing anything but causing her pain.

But loving people didn't stop the hurt. It wouldn't magically salve a Goddess if it couldn't work on those he loved. He didn't ever think he'd forget Valeria's rejection of their union. The Goddess fled the last time he had come close to giving her the same.

He struggled to follow her statement instead. There had to be something in it that was more rational than a mind that twisted against itself. "I sacrificed myself because I was tired of being alone, a state you left me in."

"Valentine, I never left you alone when I called my people home. I called you to me each time, and you refused. That raging headache you had at the end of every life was my attempt to call you to me before the demons killed you."

"Don't call me by that name."

"If you ended this life, here and now? The name that would pull you back into the womb of your mother is Valentine. You're not Regis. You are my Valentine. Your name was mine before I made this world, you willful ass."

That was the prick of rage it took for him to drive the scepter's blade through her.

She wouldn't leave him to mourn what he couldn't be. She took no blame for his misery. How could he serve such a creature? He never had another god to choose from.

She collapsed, near death. He fled for the training grounds, his wings fully ignited and flaring in complete agitation. But his faith wasn't shaken by everything she teased free in him in that dark chamber. He well knew that there would be no wings without faith.

But even that faith twisted inward, just as his mind did, longing for things he couldn't hold onto.