Shattered by Shadows: The Innocence Cycle, Book 1

by J D Abbas

  “Yes, I found it uncomfortable, invasive. He saw things I didn’t want him to.” Mikaelin glanced sideways at Elena. “You know how that feels. I remember that first day we talked with you.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she murmured, her mind returning to those encounters with Elbrion. “I felt so exposed. He was seeing everything, and I had no control over it.”

  “That’s how I felt as well. But he did help me release the children’s wounds, or I probably wouldn’t have recovered.”

  “It was that serious?”

  “One girl was near death. Then there were two more that Dalgo approached me about later. They were the worst.”

  “It got worse?” An involuntary shiver swept through her.

  “One boy had a severed hand and...” Mikaelin looked away and stopped.

  “And what?”

  “H-he’d been...emasculated.”

  “I don’t know what that means?”

  “Castrated? Gelded?” His brows went up.

  “Oh.” Elena covered her mouth and nodded. “And...and what did that do to you?”

  Mikaelin stared off at the mountains and leaned on the railing again. “It didn’t hurt me—permanently, anyway.” He shuddered and left it there. “But the severed hand was terrifying. After I touched him, I watched as my fingers fell from my hand, one after another, then the remainder of my hand dropped to the ground, blood spewing.” He seemed almost entranced.

  “Oh, Mikaelin, how awful!” She looked at his hands. “But it’s whole now and functions well?”

  “Only scars remain.” He showed her his wrist and the base of each finger.

  “The last boy we worked with had been abused and threatened so horrifically, his mind broke. It was difficult to get back from that place. Elbrion had to find me.”

  Elena was quiet for a time. “I can well imagine. These were all children from the camp?”

  “Yes. I would guess you experienced much the same there yourself.” He eyed her from the side.

  “And how I wish there’d been someone to rescue me when I was younger.” Sighing, she turned her eyes to the mountains. “Now it seems too late to heal.” She shook her head and refocused. “You said you still feel the pain; what is it you’re feeling?”

  “The worst is that of being...assaulted...raped.” He paused. “Every one of those children was repeatedly victimized. When I touched them, I felt their unbearable pain in my body, and not just from the most recent attacks; I absorbed wounds from their entire history. They struck me in one massive convolution of pain. But long after the physical pain passed, the memory of the attacks stayed—in my dreams, in unguarded moments, suddenly I’m feeling violated all over again.”

  Elena gaped. “I-I’m so sorry for you—for them.”

  “With my own memories, I’ve found ways to block them, but this is different. I don’t know where to put them inside so that they don’t torment me.”

  “What did Elbrion say?”

  “I haven’t told him that part. I haven’t told anyone else.” He hung his head. “I should be able to manage this. I’m a grown man, a trained Guardian.”

  Elena felt a fire flash through her and the terrace warped. Mikaelin stepped back, his eyes wide. “Should any person be able to manage the feelings of being repeatedly raped without being tormented? I don’t believe such a person exist,” she said, an angry bite to her words. Then it seemed to pass, and her voice softened. “You’re a kind and sensitive man, Mikaelin. You shouldn’t be ashamed. You took on this agony to save the lives of those children. I don’t think there are many people who would have been willing to do so.” She paused. “You are a great man; Celdorn was right.”

  “Elena, you have no idea what darkness lives in me; I’m no angel. Like you with your torment, I’ve just learned to guise it well.” A shadow passed over him as he spoke. He slumped forward, leaning on the rail.

  Elena reached over and cupped his bearded chin. “Don’t bow your head in shame.” She lifted his head and turned his face toward hers. “I know what those children carried in their bodies, and I’m certain you’ve spared them great suffering. What you’re feeling in your body is what they’ve been experiencing every day of their young lives. I’m sorry it hurts you, but you’ve given a great gift to them. You should be proud of yourself.”

  Mikaelin blinked back tears and turned to look at the clouds. Elena was quiet for a few moments, then added wistfully, “I only wish you’d been there when I was small.”

  He glanced sideways. “As do I.” Suddenly, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes like he had a massive headache. “Though I don’t know if I could have helped...” His voice faded.

  “Celdorn also said something about you being willing to die for me. What was he talking about?”

  “Celdorn spoke too freely.” Mikaelin’s voice snapped with anger as he stood back and pulled himself to his full height, hands fisted. He startled, blushed, and wrapped his arms around his chest. By the time he continued, his expression and voice had softened. “When we first returned to the keep, after you’d been attacked, we took you to the bathing room to clean your wounds. You hung so limply in Celdorn’s arms, it didn’t seem possible you’d survive. He asked if I could heal you.”

  “But wouldn’t that have been too much for you?”

  “Elbrion believed I wouldn’t live through it. When Celdorn realized this, he couldn’t ask me to make the sacrifice, so I attempted it without his leave.” He paused, staring ahead. “But nothing happened. I couldn’t help you.” His jaw tightened, and his hands fisted again. He refused to look at her.

  Elena took several steps back and collapsed onto the bench behind them; she wanted so desperately to weep but couldn’t allow Mikaelin to witness it. Her body sagged with the weight of the tears. She pulled up her knees and hugged them tightly, trying to hold herself together.

  Mikaelin sat next to her and tentatively put his hand on her back, his anger gone, his voice gentle. “Elena, forgive me for failing you. I don’t know what went wrong. You needed my help more than any of the others, and I was too weak to do anything. I’m sorry.”

  “I am so”—her voice broke—“glad it didn’t work.” She took a shaky breath, blinking away the burning tears.

  Mikaelin’s face was a scowl of confusion. “What? Why?”

  “What if you had died? How would I have lived with myself?” The words barely squeezed past the lump in her throat. “And if you’d lived, I wouldn’t want you to feel what I do. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” She hugged herself tighter. “And you would be one more person, seeing and knowing and feeling the ugliness inside me.” Elena rocked back and forth, set into motion by the waves of pain and sorrow crashing within. She stopped suddenly. “I can’t believe you were willing to do that.”

  “I deeply regret not being able to take away your wounds. I was so afraid you would die. I felt so useless, but as Elbrion said, the power isn’t under my control. Even now, I know your longing to be free from the disfigurement and the scars. How I wish I could grant you that and ease your heart.” A tear slid down Mikaelin’s cheek. He quickly swiped it away.

  Elena’s breath caught. “Mikaelin, you have light all around you,” she whispered, almost afraid to speak.

  He gazed into her eyes as if looking for something. Suddenly, she was terrified and stood, ready to run away.

  “It’s all right, Elena,” Mikaelin assured her as he rose and blocked her retreat. “You don’t need to fear me.” His tone was amazingly calm, and she hesitated.

  Before she could stop him, he touched the side of her mouth.

  Elena felt a surge of power. “No, Mikaelin!” She shoved his hand away. Horrified, she watched as he doubled over and fell to his knees. His head jerked to the side like he’d just been struck—and again and again until he was sprawled on the ground, blood spewing from his mouth and nose.

  “Give it back. Give it back! I don’t want this.” Sasha appeared at the top of the stairs and bounded towar
d them just as Mikaelin pulled himself to knees and grabbed his throat, struggling to breathe. Something thrust his body upward, and he landed on his side. “Nooooo! What have you done?” He fell onto his back as his shirt shredded. Knife wounds opened on his chest.

  Elena clung to Sasha, who whined and licked at her face. The poor dog seemed as confused by this as she was.

  Mikaelin glanced their direction, then rolled over and pulled his knees under him, trying to get up. His body stiffened, and he bit his lip to suppress a scream. Elena could almost see the fire shooting through him. She fell to her knees, sobbing along with him as he curled in agony, and watched in dismay as he soiled himself.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” she wailed, the vision unbearable. Sasha growled nervously and sniffed at Mikaelin’s boot.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, and Celdorn appeared, moving between Mikaelin and her. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms. “What did he do to you?”

  Elena covered her face and buried it in Celdorn’s chest, her body shuddering with sobs, unable to speak. She was frightened, appalled, ashamed. She knew she was the cause of Mikaelin’s pain and humiliation. She just wanted to disappear.

  “Elena, what happened?” Celdorn demanded.

  It was some time before she could voice the words. “He...he took my wounds.” With a sob, she looked up.

  Celdorn stepped back, confusion shadowing his face. Then a smile broke out, and his eyes lit with joy. Ever so gently, his massive hands cradled her head like she might break. “You’re healed!”

  Celdorn’s face paled, and he spun around to look at Mikaelin. He let go of Elena and hurried toward the younger man, who was attempting to stand but could only manage to drag himself onto the bench.

  When Celdorn grabbed Mikaelin’s arm, his body rippled with pain. “Don’t touch me,” he rasped. Celdorn withdrew his hand but stayed close, watching the struggle, agony etched on his own face.

  Mikaelin pulled himself into an awkward, half-sitting position, his shoulders slumped over. There were puddles of fluids where he’d lain, and his clothing was tattered, stained and reeked of sickness. Celdorn dropped to one knee in front of him and put his hand under Mikaelin’s chin, raising his head. He gasped, and Elena’s stomach dropped.

  There they were: all the wounds that had been on her face, except that his were raw and untended.

  Elena moved next to Celdorn, the world suddenly off-balance and unreal as if she’d stepped into some bizarre dream. Mikaelin’s handsome face was now grotesquely disfigured and covered with her injuries. She gingerly touched the gaping flesh at the side of his mouth, partially hidden by his beard, and moved upward to his eye that now sagged, horrified to see what she’d looked like after the attacks. His face was swollen and twisted, his nose moved off center, with bruises in various shades of black, purple and yellow tinting most of his skin. There were bloodstains on his trousers and a puddle beneath his boot. She blinked as the terrace spun. Sasha’s body pressed against her, keeping her upright.

  Mikaelin wouldn’t raise his eyes, wouldn’t look at her. He must have despised her for what she’d just done to him; he couldn’t have expected it to be this bad.

  Then, while Mikaelin was still sucking in short gasps of breath and straining not to cry out, the wounds began to disappear one by one, leaving only scars behind.

  Stunned, Elena grabbed Celdorn’s and Sasha’s shoulders to steady herself.

  “Why did you do it?” she whispered. “I didn’t want this for you.” She fell to her knees in front of him. “How do I live with myself now, Mikaelin?” She gazed at the disfiguring scars that belonged to her, leaned her head against his knee, and wept uncontrollably.

  Mikaelin raised his trembling, flaccid hand and laid it on her head. “The Jhadhela led,” he rasped, struggling for each breath. “It was your time.” And more softly yet, “I have no regrets.”

  Chapter 48

  Elena refused to leave the terrace.

  Celdorn half-carried Mikaelin to his chamber so Braiden could examine him. Each step was slow and laborious. Once they were inside, out of Elena’s sight, Mikaelin fell to his knees, weeping. Celdorn stood at his side, his hand on the young man’s shoulder as others watched from the far side of the room.

  When he gained some control, Mikaelin looked up at Celdorn. “I don’t know how she survived,” he whispered. “I’ve experienced a great deal of pain in my life. I’ve been cut by swords and daggers, been stitched up many times, had bones broken, and other... But I’ve never felt anything like this. No person should have to live with this much pain.” His gaze fell to the floor as his tears renewed.

  Celdorn signaled for Elbrion and Braiden to join them. At their approach, Mikaelin wiped his face on his sleeve and struggled to stand. Celdorn helped him to his bed, explaining what had happened on the balcony and asking Braiden to examine him. Mikaelin couldn’t endure sitting so they eased him to a lying position.

  Braiden said he could feel the lumps in Mikaelin’s bones where Elena’s had mended. He found the scars from every injury he’d stitched, including the ones his own touch had healed. The bruising that had transferred was already fading, the swelling nearly gone.

  Mikaelin assured them that the wounds had passed through.

  Elbrion was unconvinced. “You are in great pain. What is the source?”

  “I’ll be all right soon. I just need to rest.”

  Elbrion’s brow furrowed. “Why are you being deceptive?”

  Celdorn stepped in. “I want the truth, Mikaelin. What’s happening with you?”

  Braiden took a few steps back, glancing from one to the other, then quietly offered to get Mikaelin some fresh clothes.

  “I don’t believe there’re any physical wounds remaining in my body. The pain is... I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Make an attempt,” Celdorn insisted.

  “It’s like...the memory of pain, stored in my body, perhaps. I don’t see the images of past things like Elbrion does, but I feel them: the beatings, the torture, the rapes. When I first touch someone, I feel the full impact of their assaults, but over time that lessens. I’ve found, however, that when I sleep or during unguarded moments, I’ll suddenly feel the pain of someone else’s attack, with all the horrific emotions and sensations. I don’t know how to control or stop it.”

  “Why have you said nothing?” Elbrion asked.

  Mikaelin stared down. “I was ashamed. I thought I should be able to manage it. Elena was just asking me about that very thing. She wanted me to speak with you. I think that’s part of the reason she’s so upset. She knows I’ll repeatedly feel her assaults in my body, and, in some way, she feels exposed or violated by that.” He glanced at Celdorn. “I meant her no harm.”

  “Of course not,” Celdorn replied. “You gave her a great gift.”

  “I do not know how to tell you to manage the pain,” Elbrion said. “I have only had the one experience with Elena. It did pass with time, as you said. I do believe it is important that you not hide or feel humiliated by what you are experiencing. The horrific things you have absorbed would torment anyone. There is no shame in that.”

  “That’s what Elena was telling me.”

  “She is wise for her young years.”

  They all turned toward the balcony where Elena sat on the bench, her hunched back to them, unmoving.

  ~

  Mikaelin stared out the window, his chest aching. Hours had passed and still Elena remained on the terrace. Celdorn had tried to coax her in; Elbrion made an attempt. But she wouldn’t look at them or speak anything other than her refusal to come inside. She’d even sent Sasha away. As the sun started to set, they debated whether to forcibly bring her inside.

  “We can’t just leave her out there. Her body’s still weak, and she’s susceptible to becoming ill again,” Celdorn argued.

  “I believe she will find her way through this soon and rejoin us of her own volition,” Elbrion responded.

  “So h
ow long do we wait? She hasn’t eaten since morning. She’s too frail to last long.”

  Mikaelin listened to their argument distractedly. He was watching Elena as she sat hugging her legs, head drooping. He agonized for her as he sifted through the things he’d absorbed. He learned a great deal about her in that brief touch; things he was sure she wouldn’t want him to know. He heard the worry in Celdorn’s voice and knew he wouldn’t wait much longer. “Before we move her against her will, let me make an attempt,” Mikaelin said. Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed a blanket and went to join Elena.

  “It’s getting cold,” Mikaelin said as he put the blanket around her. “You should come inside.”

  Elena shook her head.

  He sat next to her on the icy stone bench. “Are you punishing me?”

  Elena turned and stared at him with deep anguish, making him immediately regret his words. “Punishing you?” The words came out in a strangled croak.

  It was the first time Mikaelin had seen her face since he touched her. He was amazed at the difference. She looked so young. Her skin was flawless, her features tiny, except for her eyes that stood out...so large...and so sad. Now that they could fully open, it seemed they were archways leading to caverns of pain, bottomless and dark.

  “I’ve been sitting here punishing myself, mortified by the position I put you in.” She took a shaky breath. “I begged for your pity. My utter selfishness brought this upon you.” Her trembling fingers reached toward the scars on his face, but couldn’t bring herself to touch them. “My longing to not be disfigured, to be normal again, drove you to this. I’m so ashamed, I’ve been tempted to take a dagger and put each of the wounds back in place.” By an amazing show of will, she staunched the flow of new tears that threatened. “But then you’d no doubt take those on as well, and I’d keep adding to your pain.” She scowled and stared straight ahead.

  “I didn’t do it because you begged me, Elena. I did it because I chose to. It was already in my heart, but the Jhadhela wasn’t there until that moment.” He paused. “In truth, the light willed it. I only moved in agreement.”