Chapter 41: The haze

Otto: 

I can hear the screams of the souls around me. All my life, I have done my best, to not use my inborn curse. Necromancy is not something that I ever want to practice. Still, when the Dread came to me, I couldn't resist him.

 No matter how hard I tried to rein in my mana, it leaked into the air. Seventy years of not harming others, ruined in a month. The worse is the children. I did manage to make sure they were protected, but the Dread punished me, by placing them in cages. 

I feel two cool hands at the side of my head. Then, the healing mana seeps in. Just who let this healer in here? Can't he see that I am blocking my mind deliberately? 

"Sir Otto? Can you hear me," I scoff? This busybody should really let me be. "Please, you have to make things right. Cut the flow of your mana, and end this." 

Cut the flow of my mana? How do I even do it? The Dread has full control of my body. I wake from my haze, and then narrow my eyes at the healer. He is a young man. With raven hair, and aristocratic features. He is young, much too young, to be a healer.

"If you know what I am, then kill me now, and end this yourself," I snarl at the brat. His eyes soften. 

"I am sorry, but I can't do so. I am a healer. For the longest time, I forgot that it is not my job to kill," the young man says. I blink at that. His mana feels familiar. More than once, I felt a tug from a mana similar to his. The necromancers and Liches, who answered the call, are long dead. Anger rises in me. 

"You are Evander Shade," I snarl. This is the brat, who pissed off the Dread. If it wasn't for him, killing off so many necromancers, then the Cosmic Powers wouldn't have tried to restore the balance, by bringing back the Dread. "This is all on you, you devil spawn." 

He looks at his hands then. Yet, I am not done. 

"We could have had peace. With a Dread Lord at the helm, instead of the Dread. We could have lived like normal people. Just what gave you the right, to hunt us? Don't you know that most of us, are just doing as the Dread tells us? Even when we resist?" I say, my tone rising. 

"Is there no chance, for you, to put a stop to the mana flow? I do not want..." his words seem to be stuck in his throat. I take a hold of his shoulder, and shake him. 

"You don't want to kill? Just now? Why not before, you brat? Did it make you feel superior, when you killed people, who were scarred and scared? People who want to take their life back in their hands?" I am about to rip the boy a new one, when he looks me straight in the eyes. 

"I deserve your scorn, but the outbreak won't wait for me to atone. So, I ask again, can you cut off the mana flow?" He asks. I shake my head. 

"You better bury me in holy grounds because I don't want to end up a Lich," I say, closing my eyes. I feel the healer place a hand on my forehead. Then, I feel a coolness seep through me. When I open my eyes, I can no longer hear the screaming of the damned. "What did you do?" 

"I severed your connection with your mana core," the boy tells me. "I apologize for crippling you, but there was no other way." 

I snort. How many years have I tried to get a healer to do this? Only for the one responsible for my lack of control to be the one who does it? I take in a deep breath. The healer stands up. 

"I won't tell anyone about you," the healer says. I huff at that. 

"It is your guilt you are trying to hide. Don't think, even for a second, that I don't know who you are," I might be repeating myself, but that doesn't mean, that I am any less angry.

The healer gives me an apologetic look, and then pulls away the blinds of the window behind me. I turn to see what he is seeing. There are piles upon piles of rotting corpses outside. I close my eyes in shame. 

"I don't think you should stay in here," the boy tells me. "Help me atone, sir." 

I blink at him. Just why does he think I can do so? What about all the crimes that I did, in just the past month? The tears of the children, locked in cages and fed only once per day, are heavy on me. I know that I can't remain in here. Too many people got hurt because I didn't have what it took to stand against the Dread. 

"And do what? Come with you?" I ask him. He nods. 

"It would be for the best. Now, please help me redistribute the Goron tea. And, after, to bury the dead. Where is the priest of Harika?" The healer asks. I sigh. 

"He was the first to die," the two of us share a look. Without a priest, the burials will have to be more modest. Yet, that can't be helped. He kneels before me, and takes a hold of my weathered hand. 

"We can't fix this, if we don't work together," I huff at the brat. As far as I am concerned, I should be brought to court. So should he, now that I think about it. Yet, a part of me wants for the heavy weight to get lifted from my chest. I nod at the healer. 

"You pull something like this again, and I will make sure you are found floating face down in a lake," I don't threaten him, rather, I promise him. "The Dread is not to be provoked. Do you hear me, boy?" 

"Crystal clear. My name is Evander, and not boy," he offers his hand, I swap it away. That prompts him to sigh, but I don't care. It will be quite some time, before I give the boy some consideration.