9.

Debts to the undeserving

In the morning a couple days later, they made a big show of sending Dominic off. He was escorted to a luxurious chamber where servants fussed over his clothing, draping him in uselessly lavish layers, and did what they could to take care of his hair. There wasn’t much to do. It had always been short for practicality. They just fretted over it far more than obviously necessary, then continued to chatter and argue over what clothes to send him off to his death in.

Mid discussion, the door opened with a click. A tall, familiar man stepped in.

Dominic barely glanced over at him.

“Good morning, Silas.”

“…Good morning,” the demon replied, surprisingly. He had never been one to return greetings.

“What brings you here?”

Silas approached him slowly. He held out his hand. In his palm was another glowing gold ring, almost identical to the one that had been used around his neck the night before.

“Is this for me?” Dominic asked, feigning innocence.

“Take it.”

He reached out and touched the ring. It flashed, then reappeared on his wrist.

He held up his hand, studying it. It was cold against his skin, but unlike before, he could actually feel a connection coming off of it.

Dominic glanced up. It led to Silas. On his wrist too, there glittered a gold ring, almost like a pair of manacles.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

Silas didn’t answer.

“Why am I tied to you?” he pressed.

The demon wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m going as well,” he finally answered.

“What?”

“I’m going with you. Into the fog.”

His jaw was unusually tense.

“In order to see if your claim about coming from the fog is really true, the lord has ordered that I go as a witness,” he explained. “This device will ensure that we share the same fate, and that you don’t run away.”

Dominic looked up at Silas, unsure of what he was hearing.

“Did something happen?” he asked, confused.

“No.”

“Did you volunteer for this?”

“No.”

“Have you angered the viscount?”

“Never.”

“Then why are you getting executed too?”

Dominic knew he shouldn’t have expected anything out of a person who killed his own children, but he couldn’t make any sense of it. There was no reason for Silas to be coming with him. If the viscount needed a witness, any random servant would do.

No. His hand clenched.

Perhaps in the eyes of the viscount, Silas was just another random servant.

“It doesn’t matter why,” he replied, oblivious to Dominic’s sinking mood. “I will follow the orders of the lord.”

“You’re stupidly loyal to someone who’s throwing you away.”

“He can do as he wishes with my life.”

Dominic put down his hand.

“You’re terribly willing to die,” he remarked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Silas spat back.

“I wouldn’t.”

The conversation was cut off after that, the two of them only waiting in silence for the glorified execution to begin, refusing to look at each other.

Dominic glanced down at the glowing ring around his wrist. He had expected that they’d make someone come with him, but not Silas. It didn’t complicate things, but it didn’t make them easier.

A knock resounded through the room, interrupting his thoughts and sending a spark through the tense silence. Silas opened the door.

A servant with a veil over their face bowed in greeting.

“The ceremony will begin soon.”

Dominic stood and made his way over. The two of them followed the servant down the halls, winding through the maze of a castle. The corridors had been decorated, vibrant flowers in vases lining the path. Dominic looked on, frowning. They had set it up as if in celebration. They were supposed to be sending two people to their deaths.

The heavy scent of nectar was overpowering. The flowers still looked bright and alive, but he could smell their rotting, fly-eaten stems.

They descended further. The estate had been built on a steep incline, and they only seemed to be going downwards, staircase after staircase appearing before them.

At the bottom, a familiar, unwanted face appeared. The viscount, sitting on a wheelchair with a blanket covering his lap, smiled gently as they entered his view. He must have kept it a secret that he was already healthy from the servants so that they couldn't accuse him of throwing his healer away once he’d finished using him.

He smiled, but his face was stiff. The new of the tails he’d sent out disappearing had unquestionably reached his ears by now.

“So today’s the day,” he said.

Dominic just nodded quietly. The viscount’s smile seemed to relax a degree. He had probably mentally taken Dominic off of his suspect list judging by his response. If he had known that they had lost track of Aster and his siblings, then there was no way he’d still be walking willingly to his death.

The viscount took his hand, his palm like sandpaper.

“I will be praying for your safe return,” he said.

Dominic smoothly slid his hand out, clasping his fingers together and bowing.

“I will be on my way,” he replied coldly.

“Go on now. I’m too frail to see you off.”

He wasn’t even going to bother escorting them all the way to their deaths. Silas remained quiet behind him.

Without another word, Dominic turned and continued down the hall. They entered a tower, which spiraled even further downwards. At the bottom, a door opened, spilling them outside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Under their feet, a stone path, unkempt and overgrown, led into the distance. It was undoubtedly headed towards the shore. He could already see the fog obscuring the landscape. A couple guards were standing at attention beside the door, probably to make sure they actually took the plunge.

He glanced down at the ring on his wrist. Silas was still standing wordlessly behind him.

Dominic looked forward and walked. Before long, their surroundings grew hazy. He took a deep breath, clearing his nose. The sludge the viscount carried was far behind them. His lungs instead filled with the scent of salt and seawater, the unmistakable signature of the fog only growing stronger.

It wasn’t until the air around them seemed to turn white entirely that Silas finally realized they really were inside the fog, and nothing was happening.

He stared wordlessly at Dominic.

“What will you do?” Dominic asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m following you.”

“I meant after.”

Silas’s mana fluctuated for a split second.

“Are you really just going to go back and report to the viscount?” he asked.

There was silence for a moment.

“I must,” he finally replied. “I was given the order to follow you here and witness if you were telling the truth. I have done so, so my duty is to report back to him.”

“Even though he cast your life away?”

“It was never mine to begin with.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes as they trudged through the fog, loose pebbles clattering under their feet.

“As I thought,” he said. “I don’t understand you.”

“You don’t need to.”

They continued on in silence. The scent of salt was slowly growing, wrapping around him like a down blanket. He took a deep breath of it. Silas’s mana wavered slightly.

“Dominic,” he called.

It was strange to hear him using his name. Before today, he’d only opted for things like ‘hey you.’

“What is it?”

“What are you?”

“Why should I tell you?” Dominic replied. “I have no desire to reveal anything to a person who will just crawl back to the viscount and kiss his feet.”

Silas scowled.

“…My duty is not something that can be explained to someone like you.”

“I don’t need your explanation.”

Dominic stopped in his tracks, turning to face the demon. He was outclassed in every way by Silas physically, and healers had no attack magic, but something in his scathing gaze forced the demon to stop too.

“Your loyalty is based on a debt worth your life, isn’t it?” he said.

There was no response. That was a clear confirmation.

“You’ve already died for him then,” he continued. “The debt has been repaid.”

Silas gritted his teeth.

“I haven’t died yet.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes.

“You should be careful what you wish for.”

He raised his hand. Before giving the demon another moment to respond, he grabbed the ring around his wrist and tore it. It snapped violently, the gold glow flashing blindingly bright for a split second before flaking away like paper.

Silas’s eyes went wide. He immediately slapped his palms over his mouth, but nothing happened.

He tentatively glanced up. Dominic had destroyed the manacle, but he was still holding the end of the chain in his grasp. It pulsed with mana, keeping Silas grounded to him—keeping Silas from succumbing to what the fog would do.

The demon slowly let his hands fall away from his face. He stared, speechless.

“You’re shaking,” Dominic said. “Were you that afraid?”

Silas’s expression quickly changed from shock to irritation again.

“The fact that you feel nothing is far stranger,” he retorted, unable to hide the quiver in his voice.

Dominic stepped closer, pebbles from the rocky beach grinding under his footsteps. The sound of the waves echoed in his ears, not far off. They were in the thickest part of the fog, where nothing could be seen but opaque grey and white all around. It was natural that anyone who had been raised to stay away would be beyond nervous here. And he, too, understood a little why it was dangerous. Despite the fact that it was doing nothing to him, despite the fact that the scent of salt it carried was somewhat comforting, he had always been fully aware that there was something wrong with the fog. It wasn’t natural, but he couldn’t sense any magic creating it either. It existed without permission.

Still, he couldn’t make himself fear it. To Dominic, it just smelled like salt and ash.

“Don’t come any closer,” Silas said, wary.

“If I go too far, I’ll drop the chain.”

“Just stay where you are.”

Dominic glanced down at his hand and loosened his fingers. The chain began to slip away.

“Ah—no—!”

He tightened his fist around it as Silas yelled out in panic, keeping it from falling. His eyes flicked back up to meet the demon’s frantic gaze.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do,” Dominic commented. Silas just bit his lip and stayed quiet.

“How long have you worked for the viscount?” he asked calmly.

“…Twenty-one years.”

“Since you were how old?”

“I don’t know. We didn't have ages in the slums.”

“Guess,” Dominic prodded.

“…Maybe eight or nine.”

“Hm…”

It wasn’t too surprising. Many nobles would hire servants from the poor, especially to do their dirty work. They would be loyal for low pay, and could also be easily discarded.

“He fished you out of the streets,” Dominic remarked.

Silas clicked his tongue.

“You talk crudely.”

The chain clinked as Dominic twisted it between his fingers. The demon shut his mouth.

He was quiet as he thought over what to do with him. Silas had always been rude, but that was no reason to leave a person to die. It was a little pitiful that he’d been thrown away so casually, but he couldn't let him go back to the viscount just because he was pathetic.

“Well…” Dominic mumbled to himself. “…I could always decide later.”

He stepped forward and reached up towards the demon’s face. Silas stepped backwards in surprise.

“What are you—”

“Sleep.”

Dominic flicked his forehead, and his eyes immediately rolled upwards, eyelids dropping, knees giving out. He pulled on the chain and caught Silas by the shoulders, the ungainly, unconscious bundle leaning into his hands.

He calmly and effortlessly scooped up Silas’s slack body, despite the demon’s size.

“Why didn’t you let him die?”

A deep, baritone voice echoed from behind Dominic.

“I’m sure he’s no friend of yours.”

He turned around.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to dirty your beach,” he replied.

A huge shadow swooped in, swirled around his head, and landed on his shoulder.

Dominic glanced over. An owl, pitch black from head to talon, was regarding him with an interested look. Its eyes were crystalline, almost like pure obsidian.

“Did I make you wait long?” Dominic asked.

The owl chortled.

“Not at all,” it replied.

It leaned in close, the feather tufts on its head bobbing with the breeze.

“Welcome back, little eavesdropper.”