SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 80: The Broken Angel

Chapter 80: The Broken Angel

Drevon’s whisper still echoed in Morvane’s ears, filling his mind with disbelief and fury. His body tensed, and without thinking, he pushed Drevon back slightly, his voice firm and resolute.

"I will never do that!" Morvane spat. "I want to be powerful, but not in that way."

Luna’s eyes darted between the two, sensing the gravity of the situation. "What is it, Morvane? What did Drevon tell you?"

Morvane clenched his jaw, unwilling to speak the unspeakable. But Drevon, ever calm and indifferent, answered for him.

"It’s obvious, isn’t it?" Drevon said coldly, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Meira is at the end of her life."

"You’re rude!" Luna snapped, anger flaring in her eyes. "Don’t say that!"

Meira, however, raised a hand, her expression calm despite the grim conversation. "No, Luna. Let him speak. I can take it."

Drevon’s eyes gleamed with intrigue as he continued. "I’ve been studying your condition for the past few days. It’s not an illness. Even the best healers couldn’t help you because it goes beyond natural or magical afflictions."

Luna’s heart sank as she processed his words. "What are you saying?" she demanded.

"It means," Drevon said, his voice chilling, "my theory is correct. No matter how many times you’re healed, you’ll never recover. Your very essence is unraveling. So, I have a proposal—"

The room tensed as his next words cut through the air like a blade.

"Let yourself be killed by Morvane."

"What?!?" Luna’s voice broke into a stunned shout.

Meira’s face paled, but she remained composed. Morvane, however, was livid. "You’re insane, Drevon!" he roared.

Drevon remained unfazed. "Hear me out," he said smoothly. "If Morvane kills you, he will inherit your power. It’s a rare and ancient transference nature of his power — only possible through such a method. But if you’re unwilling, there’s another option."

Luna’s voice was shaking. "What... other option?"

Drevon’s lips curled into a cold smile. "We can wait for you to die naturally. Once that happens, Morvane’s shadow beast can devour your spirit. However, there’s a catch—"

"If the shadow beast devours your spirit, the power it gains will be temporary and fragmented. Weak, unstable, and far from its true potential."

Silence fell like a heavy curtain. The weight of Drevon’s words pressed against everyone in the room.

Morvane’s fists clenched, his body trembling with rage. "Stop it, Drevon!" he thundered. "I’ll never do that. I’m not a murderer."

Drevon’s eyes glinted with amusement. "That’s what makes you weak, Morvane."

Morvane stepped forward, his voice fierce and unyielding. "No. That’s what makes me innocent."

The air was thick with tension, and even Drevon’s usual smug demeanor seemed to waver slightly under the weight of Morvane’s resolve.

Luna placed a hand on Morvane’s arm, her expression fierce yet compassionate. "We’ll find another way," she vowed.

Meira’s voice, soft but steady, broke the silence. "Please... let me think."

Drevon’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. He melted back into the shadows, his parting words lingering in the air. "Think carefully. Time isn’t on your side."

As the group hears Drevon, the three of them were left with the crushing weight of an impossible choice.

Silence hung heavily in the room after Drevon’s chilling proposition. The weight of his words pressed against everyone’s chest like an invisible burden. Morvane turned to Meira, his expression resolute.

"You don’t need to think about anything, Meira, aside from recovering," Morvane said firmly. "I will never kill you or let my shadow beast devour your spirit. It feels wrong. Besides, you’re our friend."

Drevon’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. "You still let your emotions control you, Morvane? How quaint."

His crimson eyes glimmered with a sinister light as he continued, "You see, this isn’t just about friendship or sentimentality. This is about power. Imagine it—your shadow beasts, the wolf and the crow, me as your guide—a demon, and your bad manifestation magic. Now, add the power of an angel — the light itself. Killing her would grant you a divine magic most beings can only dream of."

Drevon’s voice dropped into a hushed, enticing whisper. "That would make you unstoppable."

The room grew colder, but Morvane’s determination burned brighter. He looked at everyone present, his voice steady and unwavering.

"Powerful... it’s something I’ve always dreamt of," he admitted, his gaze flickering with honesty. "But I don’t want to gain it like this. Not by betraying a friend."

Meira’s face softened, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. "I will die soon anyway, right?" she said quietly. "So what’s the matter?"

Luna’s heart clenched at those words. She stepped forward and grabbed Meira’s hands, her violet eyes fierce with emotion.

"Don’t say that," Luna said, her voice shaking with conviction. "As long as you’re breathing, there’s hope."

The warmth in her words filled the room, defying the darkness Drevon had cast.

Drevon arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Hope is a fragile thing, Luna. Easily broken."

Luna met his gaze head-on, unwavering. "But it’s also relentless," she shot back. "And that’s what makes it stronger than you’ll ever understand."

Drevon’s expression darkened, but he said nothing more. He lingered in the shadows, his presence still a reminder of the impossible choice looming over them.

Morvane tightened his fists. "We’ll find another way," he promised Meira. "I don’t care what it takes. We won’t lose you."

And in that moment, despite the uncertainty and the weight of fate hanging over them, hope glimmered like a fragile but unwavering light.

Morvane and Luna stood outside Meira’s room, their faces grim. The weight of the earlier conversation still lingered between them. Morvane’s fists clenched as he glared at Drevon.

"Let Meira rest for now," Morvane demanded, his voice firm. "She’s been through enough."

Luna crossed her arms, her expression stern. "If you have any decency, you’ll leave her alone."

Drevon’s lips quirked into an amused smirk. "As you wish," he said smoothly. "For now."

Morvane and Luna dragged him down the hallway, their steps heavy with frustration. The tension lingered, but for the moment, peace returned to Meira’s room.

She sat quietly on the bed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the blanket. Her thoughts swirled with everything that had been said — about her impending death, about Morvane’s refusal, and about Drevon’s twisted proposal.

A bitter smile curved her lips. "The gods have really abandoned me, haven’t they?" she whispered to herself.

The room grew colder, and shadows flickered along the walls. Meira’s heart skipped a beat as Drevon materialized from the darkness, his presence as unnerving as ever.

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" he said, his voice smooth and persuasive.

Meira met his gaze without flinching. "You don’t give up, do you?"

Drevon chuckled. "Not when I see potential. And believe me, Meira, I see it in that boy." He took a step closer, his eyes gleaming. "Think about my proposal. The gods have already betrayed you, abandoned you to this fate. So why should giving your power to Morvane be a problem? I see greatness in him. He is the future of Baltalaha."

Meira’s lips curled into a faint, ironic smile. "You’re wasting your time convincing me."

Drevon’s brows furrowed slightly. "Oh? Why is that?"

"It’s not me you need to convince," Meira said calmly. "I’ll die anyway. I don’t care how I go. It’s Morvane who doesn’t want your proposal. He’s the one you should be talking to."

Drevon’s eyes narrowed. "He’ll come around eventually. People always do when they’re desperate enough."

Meira’s gaze softened. "You underestimate him."

Drevon said nothing, his expression thoughtful. As he melted back into the shadows, his parting words echoed through the room.

"We’ll see."

Meira let out a weary sigh. Despite her resolve, doubt gnawed at the edges of her heart. Would Morvane’s determination be enough to defy fate? Or would desperation drive him down a path he vowed never to take?

.

.

.

The moonlight spilled gently through the windows, painting the hallways of the house in silver. The quiet hum of the night surrounded Meira as she silently slipped out of her bed, careful not to wake Luna, who was fast asleep nearby.

Her footsteps were soft, barely a whisper against the floor as she wandered through the corridors, guided by an unseen pull. Her fragile frame moved with a purpose she hadn’t felt in days, her eyes searching until they landed on a door she instinctively knew belonged to Morvane.

She opened the door quietly and stepped inside. Morvane was there, sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His face, usually tense with determination, seemed softer, almost vulnerable in the dim light.

Meira moved closer, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. She stood at the edge of his bed, her heart heavy.

But Morvane’s instincts were sharp, honed by his training and also power. Even in the stillness of the night, he stirred. His eyes snapped open, locking onto Meira’s figure.

"Meira?" he asked, his voice groggy but alert. He sat up, his eyes narrowing with concern. "What are you doing here?"

She didn’t answer immediately, her gaze lowering as she took a shaky breath. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but trembling.

"I couldn’t sleep," she admitted, her tone carrying an emotion he couldn’t quite place. "I’ve been thinking... about everything. About what Drevon said."

Morvane stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "You’re not seriously considering—"

"I’m here to talk about that," Meira interrupted, her voice firmer now. "I came to say something too."

Her words hung in the air, tension growing as she stepped closer. Her hand reached out, trembling, until it lightly touched Morvane’s.

"You need to understand," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens, you need to do what’s right for you. Even if it means..."

Before she could finish, the room grew unnaturally cold. Shadows twisted and churned at the edges, and an ominous presence filled the space.

Drevon stepped out from the darkness, his expression unreadable but his presence suffocating. "A midnight conversation," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "How touching."

Both Meira and Morvane turned to face him, their hearts racing.

"Drevon," Morvane hissed, his voice low and threatening. "What are you doing here?"

Drevon ignored him, his eyes locked on Meira. "You’ve made your decision, haven’t you?"

Meira’s expression faltered, and Morvane immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from Drevon’s gaze.

"I told you to stay away from her," Morvane growled.

But Drevon merely smirked, the satisfaction in his eyes palpable. "And yet here she is, sneaking into your room in the middle of the night. Perhaps she’s ready to do what you refuse to." His voice dripped with insinuation, the words meant to wound, to twist the knife in a place only Morvane’s heart could feel.

Morvane’s breath caught in his throat, the air thickening around him as confusion and disbelief stormed through his mind. "Meira... what’s he talking about?" His voice was sharp, the question hanging in the air, desperate for an answer he didn’t want to hear. He turned to her, eyes wide, searching her face for some sign of understanding, for something that could make sense of Drevon’s cruel words.

Meira, however, remained silent. The silence between them stretched like a chasm, the weight of it more crushing than any response she could have given. Her eyes avoided his, and that refusal to meet his gaze spoke volumes louder than any explanation.

Drevon’s smile widened, the satisfaction in his eyes turning darker. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if savoring every moment of the destruction he was causing. "She came to say goodbye. Isn’t that obvious?"

The words landed like a slap, ringing in Morvane’s ears long after they were spoken. The room around him seemed to darken, the shadows growing deeper and heavier with each passing second.

Time itself seemed to slow, stretching in a way that made the world feel unreal. Morvane’s heart hammered in his chest as the weight of Drevon’s words sank in. The realization hit him with the force of a thousand blows, and in that moment, Morvane’s world seemed to shatter, crumbling into pieces too fragile to ever be put back together.

Luna breaks the silence. "Morvane, I want you to..."

Days passed in a quiet lull, with Meira’s recovery progressing steadily. Her wounds had healed, but the weight of what she’d lost—the heavens, her heart—still hung heavily on her. Yet, she found solace in the gentle care of Luna, who always kept watch over her and helped her adjust to this new life.

One evening, as the moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft light over the palace grounds, Meira sat on the balcony, her gaze lifted to the heavens. Her thoughts wandered, a deep sense of longing settling in her chest.

Luna, who had been quietly reading a book by the door, noticed the quiet sadness in Meira’s posture. She put the book down and walked over, her voice gentle. "Aren’t you sleeping yet? Is something troubling you?"

Meira smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "No, I just miss Heaven," she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet melancholy. "It’s hard not to wonder if everything’s alright up there."

Luna sat beside her on the balcony, watching her with understanding. "I can only imagine what you’re going through."

Meira, in an attempt to shift the mood, turned the conversation. "You know, you’re a young kid with a great future ahead of you. Who would’ve thought that you would be the one to heal my wounds?"

Luna chuckled, touched by the words. "That’s very kind of you to say."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Morvane stepped into the room, his gaze shifting between Meira and Luna. "Why are you two still up? Shouldn’t you be resting?"

Meira chuckled softly. "We’re just talking, nothing to worry about."

Morvane nodded but didn’t leave, his curiosity piqued. Meira continued, her tone turning slightly more serious. "Morvane, your power... it stems from that demon, doesn’t it?"

Morvane paused for a moment before answering. "You’re right."

Meira’s eyes darkened slightly, but there was a sense of understanding in her voice. "Just as I thought. Well then, that makes you special. You weren’t chosen by Heaven, and yet a demon gave you your power." She leaned back against the railing, her gaze distant. "How strange. But I suppose it’s not so different from my own fall from grace."

Morvane smiled faintly at her insight. "It’s late. We should all get some rest."

With that, he turned and left the room, his footsteps fading as he headed down the corridor.

As Morvane walked through the halls, his mind raced. He didn’t like the quiet tension that lingered between him and Meira. Her words had been true—his power did come from a demon, and her fall was tied to her questioning of the gods. It made him wonder how much more they had in common than either of them realized.

The palace was still when he left, the cool night air wrapping around him as he made his way toward the cemetery. It was time for his shadow beast to feed.

When he arrived at the cemetery, he found only a few spirits lingering, hiding in the shadows. He knew they were aware of his presence, avoiding him as they had learned to do. But his shadow beast was always hungry. With a snap of his fingers, the beast surged forward, devouring the few remaining spirits in a flurry of darkness. It was efficient—almost too efficient.

Once the spirits were consumed, Morvane turned and made his way back to the palace. He walked through the garden, his mind still preoccupied with the events of the night.

To his surprise, he found Meira sitting alone on a bench beneath the pale moonlight, her wings folded behind her. She looked lost in thought, her gaze focused on the distant horizon.

Morvane hesitated for a moment before approaching her. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft, as if afraid of disturbing the fragile peace between them.

Meira looked up, meeting his gaze with a slight, tired smile. "I’m... I’m alright, I suppose. Just thinking." She patted the bench beside her. "You can sit down if you’d like."

Morvane took a seat beside her, the silence between them comfortable but weighted with unspoken thoughts.

"You miss Heaven, don’t you?" Morvane asked after a moment, his voice low.

Meira nodded slowly. "More than I can put into words. I never thought I’d be thrown out, cast aside by those I served. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do now." She sighed, her wings twitching behind her. "But I know I can’t go back. Not now."

Morvane sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, he looked at her—really looked at her—and saw not just the broken angel, but someone who still had the strength to fight, to survive.

"You don’t have to do it alone," he said quietly. "You’ve got us now."

Meira glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, her guard lowered, and she allowed herself a small, genuine smile. "Thank you," she said softly. "I don’t know what the future holds, but... maybe I’m not as broken as I thought."

Morvane nodded, standing up. "We’ll face whatever comes, together."

As he walked away, Meira stayed on the bench, staring up at the night sky. Despite everything she had lost, she felt, for the first time in a long while, a flicker of hope.

The morning light streamed through the palace windows, but there was no peace to be found in the corridors. Morvane awoke abruptly, his body stiff from sleeping on a couch near the chamber door. He groggily rose, hearing hurried footsteps down the hall. Luna was rushing past, her expression a mix of worry and determination.

"What’s happening?" Morvane called out as he hurried after her, his voice sharp with concern.

Luna, breathing heavily, didn’t pause to answer immediately. "Meira... she’s in pain. I need to get to her!"

Morvane’s heart skipped a beat, and he followed her swiftly, dreading what might be happening. As they entered the chamber, the room was filled with the sound of Meira’s agonized screams. Her body writhed in bed, her face contorted in torment. Luna was already beside her, trying desperately to channel her healing magic.

But the magic, while it helped a little, seemed powerless against the intensity of Meira’s pain. Her screams echoed off the walls, and Morvane’s concern deepened.

"What’s happening? What’s going on?" Morvane demanded, his voice tinged with panic as he rushed to Meira’s side.

Medas was already there, kneeling at the edge of the bed, his hands pressed firmly against Meira’s arm as if trying to anchor her to the present moment. But there was a helpless look in his eyes.

"I... I don’t know," Medas answered grimly. "I heard the screams and came running. I tried to calm her, but..." He trailed off, unable to finish.

Meira’s gasping breaths were filled with pain, and Luna’s magic seemed to have little effect, unable to stop the tide of agony.

Suddenly, the door opened with a slow creak, and Drevon sauntered in, a smug grin on his face as if he were somehow amused by the situation.

"Ohh, just as I thought," Drevon remarked, his tone almost casual.

Morvane shot him an angry look. "Do you know why she’s in pain?"

Drevon tilted his head, the grin slipping into a more thoughtful expression. "I don’t know for sure, but I think Heaven wants to erase her completely."

Morvane blinked, confusion clouding his thoughts. "What do you mean? Why would Heaven do that?"

Drevon shrugged, his smirk fading as he examined Meira’s writhing form. "Well, they didn’t expect her to still hold the power of an angel. It’s possible that they’re trying to kill her. She shouldn’t have this power; it’s not meant for this world."

Morvane’s anger flared. "What?! How can they do this to her?"

"Well, this is just my speculation," Drevon added, his voice flat. "Angels aren’t supposed to be in Baltalaha. If an angel’s power is here, it could cause an imbalance, and the gods fear that. So, they want to erase anything that could tip the balance. They probably thought taking six of hee hearts is enough to make her powerless."

Meira gasped again, her body jerking violently, and a cough racked her chest. Blood splattered onto her pillow, and Luna gasped in shock.

"It’s getting worse, too fast," Drevon observed, his eyes narrowing as he watched Meira’s condition deteriorate.

Luna, in desperation, reached for her book of spells. She flipped through the pages quickly, her fingers trembling as she searched for something—anything—that could help. The magic in the air seemed to thicken with the weight of Meira’s suffering.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Luna chanted a spell, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. The room filled with a soft glow as her magic surged, and for a moment, Meira’s screams lessened.

Then, as if the magic had overwhelmed her, Meira’s body went limp, her breaths shallow.

"She’s unconscious," Luna said softly, her voice a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "She’s okay for now."

Medas, his brow furrowed in deep thought, turned to Drevon. "Why would Heaven hate her this much?"

Drevon’s expression grew cold, his eyes distant as he answered. "Heaven and the gods don’t like it when things don’t go their way. The angels were created to serve them. They gave the angels immense power, power that could be used to destroy or protect. But the gods don’t want that power to be used against them. They need to keep it in check, and they’ll do whatever it takes to maintain that control."

Medas’s fists clenched at his sides. "So they want to erase her power, then? They don’t care that she’s... one of their own?"

Drevon’s lips twisted into a grim smile. "Exactly. If they can’t control the angels, they’ll destroy them. They created the angels for a reason—to serve them. Meira’s power is a threat, and they can’t allow that."

Morvane stepped forward, his voice tight with anger. "But this isn’t just about power, is it? This is personal. They’re willing to kill her for something she didn’t choose."

Drevon shrugged, uninterested. "The gods don’t care about anyone but themselves. Heaven was never about compassion; it was about control. And Meira? She’s just another casualty of their need for absolute control."

Morvane’s gaze softened as he looked at Meira, unconscious but still alive. "We can’t let them do this to her. We have to find a way to stop it."

Medas nodded. "We will. But first, we need to understand what Heaven’s really planning. This is far from over."

Luna stood by the bed, her eyes filled with determination. "We’ll protect her. No matter what it takes."