“The entirething,” Berith said, “disgusted me beyond expression.The injustice of it allwas staggering.They ordered me to kill my own brother.They ordered me toraise his child, solely as livestock.I would be forced to sacrifice dozens ofmy own students in the pursuit of naked betrayal.The conspirators—on bothsides of the equation—threatened me with censure, exile, even death fromassassination.That was the only way they could ensure my compliance.”
Hisuncle continued to watch him.Isaac struggled to return the gaze.
“It wasnot enough,” Berith said.“When you were born, I demanded your death.I usedevery favor I had to try and escape this fate.If necessary, I would’ve walkedto the river behind my tower and tossed you in the wakes.I spent many nightsover your crib, knife in hand.I wanted so dearly to bring it down.”
“You’refucking scum,” Zaria said.
A trioof femurs screamed past her face.There was a clanging on the door, areverberation of bronze and steel.It sounded like the necromancer was stillcoagulating her forces, just on the other side.She had risen in protest.
Thenecromancer.
Hisfather....
“Itwould’ve been a kindness,” Berith said.“It would’ve saved you from a life ofimprisonment, a life spent in the service of greed and malice.Many times, Iwas close to doing it.Not once in all your years did I stop considering theoption.”
Berith’sgaze peeled away from his nephew.He looked around the room, roaming overcoffins, piles of clothes, ancient stains of blood, the massive, curving wallsof bone.
Hisgaze lingered on the bone.
“Andthen they told me,” he said, “Iwouldhave to kill you.Once again, itwould have to be me.It was not enough that I must raise you.It was not enoughthat I must spend hours, every day,teaching you magic, teaching you spells that I knew you would never use.It wasnot enough that I must lie about the purpose of your entire life.”
Berithclenched his fists.
“No.Ihad to kill you myself.All to shield the Archons who wanted to betray thedeal, in case their plot was ever discovered.All to make sure your fathernever received his vessel.After everything I had to do for you, aftereverything....”
Thehanging bones shuddered through the dust.
“Howcould anyone raise a child and not grow fond of them?How could....”
Hisuncle gazed down at him from the platform.
“Howcould I ever stand the sight of your body?”
Hisface softened.Isaac remembered, all at once, all the times his uncle had ever stayed the cane, had ever broken the mold oflecturer and master to sit with his nephew, to chat, to share and smile andlaugh.It always seemed like a breaking of his composure.
Italways seemed like a moment of weakness.
Anallowance.
Abetrayal of himself.
“I hadto make a choice,” Berith said.“What lies in this tomb is more important thanyou, or me, or your father, or any other singular life.I had to comply with myorders.But....”He gave another softened look.“But if what lies in thistomb would not change the world, I would’ve forsaken the Diet, the kingdoms,the entire wizarding world ...just for you.”
For amoment, the only movement in the factory was the feeling of a distant rumblingscream, deep within the earth.
“Whatwere you thinking?”Isaac asked, his voice trembling.“All those times you—”
Berith’sface was highlighted beneath the red stripes of the necromancer flag.
“Youbrought me books,” Isaac said.“I knew you went out of your way to find them.It—I was so elated, every time you brought one for me.Ilooked forward to it.It was the only thing I looked forward to.Every time youate a meal with me, every time you’d joke, every time you’d smile, I thought—”
Heswallowed.
“Ithought I’d made you proud.I thought I’d finally impressed you.I thought Ihad earned all the time and effort you spent on me.Even when I hated you, evenin the worst of my despair, I still always thought there would be some—somepurposeto your cruelty.I thought if Itried hard enough....”
Berithlooked up, eyeing the crest of a pelvic wing.
“The letter.The—” He almost reached for his pack.“The letter you wrote me, before I left.I carried it with me the entire way.I read every word, over and over again.You said—” He swallowed the sharp knot in his throat.“You said, ‘your fatherwill be proud of you.’”
