Chapter 3: Bitter

Damien had been prepared for a sleepless night, but he hadn’t expected this level of strain. Sora had fed off of him four times now, and each time had been more draining than the last. His strength was flagging and he was incredibly sore. But he didn’t mind the pain. Gazing upon Sora’s sleeping face, looking healthier by the hour, assured him that he was on the right path.

It was like the little girl was draining the sin from his veins along with his life.

He struggled to stay conscious. His vision was so blurry he could barely see the cup of tea placed on the table beside him.

“Drink,” Leilandry urged. “It will help you keep your strength up.”

Damien took the cup thankfully. The taste wasn’t so bad anymore, not with the irony sting of blood in his mouth.

“You’re so dedicated,” Leilandry observed, sitting across from him. “Staying at her side and letting her feed off you, I can’t imagine how painful it must be. I’m surprised you can endure it without even a word of complaint or hesitation.”

“It’s fine.” Damien’s thoughts were miles away. “Something like this is nothing compared to…”

“Compared to?”

Damien snapped back to reality and held his tongue, realizing what he’d almost admitted to. “It… It’s nothing, forget it,” he muttered, glancing down.

Leilandry narrowed her eyes and took a long sip of tea, staring at him. “It’s time for her to feed again.”

As Damien expected, the next feeding was even more agonizing. He nearly passed out again but he thought about Sora and her smile, and he found the strength to stay conscious.

“We’re halfway done,” Leilandry informed him, and he felt the comforting touch of her hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling? I can synthesize a stamina potion if you need it.”

“No.” The room was spinning around him but Damien held his ground and reached for the cup of tea. “I’ll be fine, I just…”

The room was spinning even more. Leilandry’s face blurred in front of him as he heard the distant clatter of a chair. Damien’s skull exploded with pain, and everything went black.

…

Sora’s face, smiling bright as the sun.

Sora’s hand, reaching out to him.

Sora’s lips, forming soundless words.

Sora, Sora, Sora. In the depths of the dark smoke suffocating Damien, all he could make out were the blurry images of Sora. She was calling out to him, trying to tell him something, but just as he could hear the faintest touch of her voice, a bright green light pierced through the shadows like a rope thrown down the well he was trapped in.

Damien awoke to the glow of that same green light. Just past it he could make out the image of Leilandry with her hand on his forehead.

“I knew it, you’re worse than I feared.” The doctor’s face was sour. Damien tried to get up, but his body had other plans.

“…S… Sora…”

“Your girl is fine, she’s sleeping like a baby. You’re the one in trouble right now, you fucking fool,” she snapped. “I’d smack you upside the head if I knew it wouldn’t put you in a coma! What were you thinking, lying to me and saying you’re fine?!”

“I… am fine…” Damien hissed, flexing. His fingers and toes had a little life in them, but nothing else was moving any time soon.

“You are one feeding away from a wood box in the ground, mister. Here, drink this.” Leilandry propped Damien’s head up on her knees and brought a vial filled with a shiny green liquid to his lips. She tilted it down his throat, the stinging liquid filling him with strength.

The second Damien could move again, he knocked the vial away and stumbled to his feet, spitting out the horrible potion.

“By the ancestors-! What is the matter with you?! Do you want to die, is that it?!” Leilandry exclaimed, leaping to her feet. For a second, Damien thought she really would hit him, and prepared for a blow that never came. Instead, she took a few deep breaths and calmed down, nursing her brow.

“I don’t need your potions, I told you, I’m fine.” Damien felt like death, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept the doctor’s treatment. If he didn’t help Sora himself, then what was the point?

A shadow crossed Leilandry’s face and she sat back down at the table, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. You soldiers, it’s always the same with you. Can’t acknowledge when you’re hurt and need treatment, no, you’ve gotta put up a strong fucking face and go on doing your duty!”

Anger seized Damien and he felt the fatigue from before wash away. “A soldier?! You think I’m one of those…?! I didn’t, I-“

“You don’t have to deny it,” Leilandry hotly replied. “I caught it in your eyes. That haunted look, that hollow stare, the flatness of your voice, I’ve seen enough folks like you I knew what you were the second you came inside.”

Damien tried his best to hold it in, but he barely had the strength left to stand. “I’m not a soldier!” He cried. “Don’t try to lump me in with someone like you!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Leilandry asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Leilandry Red Hands, right? That’s what they called you? The Butcher of Brightwood? That’s Estval’s blood on your hands doctor, not mine! You hear me?! Not mine! You want to talk about the empty eyes of a killer, doctor, then why don’t you look in the fucking mirror?!”

Damien struggled to catch his breath, clutching the table to keep from collapsing. He wasn’t… “I… opposed the occupation… even… hah… even now, I still…” His voice cut out into a coughing fit as he fell back into his seat. Blood rolled down his chin.

“Your organs are fried from the Dark Lightning,” Leilandry said, concern taking hold of her again. She placed another vial of liquid on the table. “Drink it.”

Damien coughed blood again, refusing to even look at the potion. His eyes had only one target, and he stared at her with bitterness.

“I didn’t-“

“You don’t need to repeat yourself, I heard you the first time,” Leilandry said. “You didn’t fight in Estval. But those eyes tell me something did happen to you. Before, you were talking about ‘the empty eyes of a killer’. Not a soldier. A killer.”

Damien froze. “That… it doesn’t matter,” he growled. “Soldier, killer, what’s the difference? And what does it matter, anyway?! I came here so you could help Sora, not pry into my life! Why don’t you mind your fucking business and leave me the fuck alone?!”

“Because,” Leilandry snapped, “where I’m sitting, whatever it is that’s haunting you is causing you to behave like a suicidal moron who would rather die than accept my help. And that’s not going to work for me.”

“You don’t understand!” Damien shouted back. “This… This is something I have to do for myself! This pain from her feeding, I have to endure it, it… it’s…”

How could he get her to understand without admitting the sin that weighed on him?

“It’s your duty?” Leilandry’s voice carried a hint of disappointment. But Damien didn’t really give a damn what she thought about him.

“Yes, what’s it to you?” He snapped. “That child is my responsibility! So yes, it’s my duty to take care of her! You said she needs to feed on me to get better, so that’s what’s going to happen!”

“Responsibility, duty, ridiculous,” Leilandry snorted, shaking her head. “Look at you. You can barely stand. She feeds on you again, and you’re dead.” She pushed the vial closer to him. “And it’s almost time to feed. So drink. It.”

Damien looked at the potion like it was a vial of poison.

“Why do you even care?” He asked, his voice weaker than he’d expected.

“To be honest, I don’t,” Leilandry coldly replied. “But I’ve seen enough dead soldiers to last me a lifetime, I’m not really in the mood for another one tonight. So take. Your. Medicine. Or I’ll kick over those weak little legs of yours and jam it down your throat, savvy?”

Damien felt his back press into a corner. He didn’t have the strength to argue with her.

“Whatever it is you’re using that pain to atone for, it doesn’t mean you need to die over it,” Leilandry softly reminded him.

That was enough. With another bloody cough, Damien took the potion and gulped it down. It was more bitter medicine than he’d expected.