Tears in the Dark
Tell another lie, I heard them all before. So you don't strike or yell just yet, but you will, and see me as a whore. I'm not blind, I know what comes, but the coin is good and the bed is warm, so I stay for more. Yet somewhere along the way, you hurt me more than any before. You showed me the lie I can never have, and want even more, a choice of who I love versus being forced to be a whore.
—Lost to time thoughts from Vespera with Tom
The next morning brought necessity. Tom left early for the captain's quarters, knowing Jerry's prolonged absence would eventually raise questions that could threaten his lord's plans. Already, tavern gossip buzzed with speculation about missing knights and the champion's continued absence.
The fortress halls remained unchanged—filled with lazy men more interested in their titles than the duties those titles demanded. Mixed surprise and unease colored their faces when they saw him approach without Jerry's usual shouted demands echoing behind him.
Tom easily convinced a gaping guard to escort him to the captain's office. Beyond the general discomfort his calm demeanor inspired, no one questioned his presence. He was simply reporting in—routine business.
But after he left and the initial shock wore off, questions would multiply. Where was Jerry? The brutal knight was never far from a fight, and everyone was grateful when his violence focused on Tom instead of them. So why was Tom here alone?
Paperwork towered on the captain's desk like accusations, but the only report that mattered hadn't arrived—anything about the fall of the hero, the liberation from the hero, the whereabouts of Champion Luan. Where the hell was he?
Luan might have walked around with a permanent stick up his ass, but he'd always shown proper respect to authority. The captain didn't care what methods the champion employed—he was the Hero of Light, chosen by their goddess herself.
So where the hell was he?
"Sir."
The voice shattered his brooding, replacing one irritation with another. He looked up to see a nervous knight standing beside Tom.
Something was wrong. The Tom he knew was meek to the point of self-erasure—kneeling while standing, eyes downcast in perpetual shame, never meeting anyone's gaze during conversation.
This Tom stared back with cold indifference. No bow, no "sir," no deference at all. Just watching.
"He's here to report on the hunt for the hero, sir," the knight said, also visibly unnerved by Tom's change but unwilling to meet the captain's eyes, slowly inching back, waiting for the words to let him finish retreating.
"Dismissed," the captain growled, tired of the farce, watching the man try to flee and having to deal with whatever this one would bring.
Tom settled into the chair across from him, maintaining that unsettling stare. He waited for explanations that never came.
"Well? Did you fail? I ought to make you explain this mess to the goddess herself. I won't take the fall for others' mistakes."
The captain waited for Tom to flinch, to stumble over excuses, to beg for mercy rather than face divine wrath.
Instead, silence stretched between them like a blade. Tom's cold gaze promised death if the wrong line was crossed. The captain's throat constricted around words he'd been prepared to shout.
"Leave the goddess out of this. And the king." Tom's words carried final, absolute authority.
He stood to leave.
Madness! Did this broken knight expect him to simply bend over and accept dismissal? The absurdity choked off his protests.
His back was facing him, so straight, so proud. So little was said to mock him, but it felt like a thousand words had been spoken, and each word said the same thing: even with what little you said, you're lucky you're not dead. What an absurd feeling. He was going to retort, to be defiant—he was the captain, and the goddess was above all, not him. Yet Tom spoke once more before him, stopping those thoughts cold.
"It will be in your best interest to choose carefully who you allow to explain." Tom's voice cut through his racing thoughts. The knight hadn't turned around, still facing the door halfway across the room. "Right now, you are innocent and allowed to choose. Choose carefully who you serve—only one power will stand in the end, and I walk with them."
Killing intent flooded the room—a predator's focus the captain hadn't felt since his days fighting monsters personally. Sweat poured down his face as Tom continued.
"Choose carefully."
What power could possibly challenge both goddess and king? Yet the threat felt absolutely real, backed by something far more dangerous than mortal ambition.
All he had to do was keep quiet. He'd never received Tom's report—he wasn't lying by claiming ignorance. He could simply not know.
The captain nodded, even though Tom couldn't see him. The killing intent faded, leaving him more chilled than relieved as footsteps echoed down the hall.
What the hell had happened out there? Did he really want to know?
He stared at the paperwork mountain, knowing it would occupy him for weeks to come. He'd never gotten a chance to discover what happened to Luan, Hero of Light.
Right now, he never wanted to know.
Another night at the tavern brought another encounter with Vespera. After their passion cooled, she laughed with newfound vitality—a sound that warmed something deep in Tom's chest.
But the fresh bruise darkening her cheek shattered his contentment. Someone had struck her, and while he wanted to respect her autonomy, the sight of that mark on her smiling face pushed him past his limits.
"Who hurt you?"
"Could you not—" She wanted him to let it go, and as she stared at him, she brushed his face gently before her mood soured. "—just enjoy what we have without ruining it for me?" Her body turned away, though she didn't leave. "I thought you were dead or locked up, and I still needed money."
"Some like it rough—it's not always my choice."
"The gold I gave you should have lasted." Tom kept his voice level, though anger simmered beneath the surface.
She laughed bitterly. "A gold coin for one night is sweet, and it definitely kept me coming back for more—it's why I'm here. But it doesn't buy me a new life, and I told you what I am. I need money, and men want sex. It's survival."
"You can be more."
"More than a whore? You don't need to lie—you're already sleeping with me. I don't need prettier words when the truth already hurts enough." She gestured at her bruised face.
"I offer change if you want it. If you choose to love freely, I won't stop you. But it should be love given by choice, not forced by necessity."
She studied his face with new attention, her fingers tracing his jawline. "Such pretty lies you tell. They almost make me believe."
Rising gracefully, she collected her scattered clothing. Once more, Tom watched her leave, wondering how to demonstrate that better options existed—if only she would trust enough to reach for them.
A week passed with the same routine. Tom no longer pushed for answers but let gold flow freely. He let her choose her clients based on desire rather than desperation. If she wanted that life, he would accept it—but not because poverty left her without alternatives.
During one of their quieter nights together, she explained why his coins meant so much. She helped other women like herself—girls less fortunate or attractive, women who struggled to earn enough for basic necessities. Everyone ate when Vespera prospered.
A few nights later, the man who'd given her the bruise returned. Secure in her newfound wealth, she refused his crude advances for the first time. His reaction was swift and vicious—another mark for Tom to remember.
Later that night, Tom found the man stumbling from the tavern in a drunken stupor, relieving himself against the alley wall like the animal he was. Shadows wrapped around Tom's arm as he stepped from the darkness, the tendrils sinking deep into the drunk's chest with slow, deliberate hunger.
He wanted the bastard to suffer as he'd made Vespera suffer, but changes required a subtle hand. Even when he brought death, the night knew what he was—but not the Light, not yet. Only the stench of stale piss and the darkness would remember what happened here as Tom melted back into the shadows.
Days blended into a comfortable routine. Tom worried occasionally that his lord might find his methods too passive, too slow in spreading divine will. But he still felt Abaddon's presence within his soul—patient power waiting for the right moments. His god approved of careful cultivation over forced conversion.
Another night with Vespera brought deeper trust. She moved closer to him now, no longer expecting sudden cruelty or abandonment. Finally, she spoke the words he'd been waiting to hear.
"Can you really save me? Give me a new life?"
"No." His cool response made her laugh.
"Yeah, I knew it. I just needed to hear you say it."
"You misunderstand. I cannot make you choose, nor would I, even if such power were mine. You have free will—I can only offer you strength if you trust me with that choice."
Confusion clouded her features. "Oh, did you get recruited by the Church of Light? Is that where all the gold came from?" She grinned at the absurdity. "You know they hate whores, right?"
Tom's expression went deadly cold, and she froze in sudden terror. He forced himself to relax, but her fear remained.
"Sorry, that was cruel of me. You asked an honest question built on trust." He tried to ease her panic. "The Light is rot—it did nothing for me when I served."
"But I ask for your trust while keeping secrets from you. Do you still trust me?"
"Will you kill me?" Her voice was barely a whisper, certain that death was coming.
Tom turned away, settling on his side with his back to her. "You're free to choose. You always were."
"I never pushed you, never lied to you. I do wish to save you and offer you more, but the choice must be yours, not mine."
Gentle warmth pressed against his back as she embraced him from behind. Tears fell on his shoulder like warm rain.
"You're the only person in my life who ever gave me a choice," she whispered. "Even if you kill me, at least it's what I choose. It's better than the living death I had before."
Tom turned to face her, seeing pain etched in every line of her features. "What I serve is seen as darkness, but he saves those the Light rejects."
"He demands nothing—only faith. It's a test, a choice that only you can make. If you refuse, there will be no second chance. Please choose carefully—not from need, not from fear, but as a true decision."
She watched him process this impossible claim. Only one god existed—the goddess of Light. Even if others had existed once, why would darkness offer salvation instead of demanding sacrifice?
"I trust you." Her voice grew stronger. "I've seen who you chose to become. If your god is better than the Light, then I believe you can help me find a better life."
"Please."
Darkness stirred within Tom's soul, hearing her earnest words and accepting them. Joy flooded through him as he welcomed her home into the night.32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡofZRIuqMXO
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