Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 69: 68. Spill The Tea

Read chapter 69 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I am Shadow, a monstrosity of mithril and mana, and today I will remove the curse of Fel. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/51f2eb33-199c-4126-a5b5-1bea5c8fc16a The evening sun flickers through the canopy above, and an eerie quiet settles over the forest as I draw near to Fel. Only the steady, rhythmic thudding of my own feet remains, like the woods are holding their breath at my arrival. Four male foxkin wait at the village edge, armored in the same patched leather and rusted plates. They have abandoned the theater of nonfunctional firearms for spears that look no better cared for. They stand like animals cornered, ears pinned back, hands clenched around their hafts, seemingly paralyzed by fear. I do not slow or acknowledge them. I have no words for these vile creatures, now that I know the depth of depravity hidden beneath their timid natures. I simply stride forward, and they part without a word, like water around the bow of a ship. Their guilty amber eyes do not follow me, but the blood-stained cloth bundle cradled in my arms. Not just them. With every den I pass, the residents stop and stare—not curious, but tight with tension, afraid of the sin that might be wrapped within this fabric. Not one of them speaks, but there is a look of uncomfortable understanding in their eyes. And even if they found the courage to speak, I would not understand them. Thanks to Wrath’s failed integration, we did not learn much of what I wanted from Yukiha’s memories, least of all, the foxkin language. Which is unfortunate, because I have much I want to say to these people. Wrath did provide me one thing: a different perspective on what might have seemed like a quiet, peaceful village. What Wrath shared with us casts it in a far more sinister light. I’ve seen through the eyes of an innocent child—ostracized, villainized, betrayed, and left for dead by an entire community. We felt the ache and sorrow of a girl desperately trying to be accepted, to be loved, only to be told it was never enough. That she was born wrong. That she carried a sin that could never be washed clean. When the memory transfer hit, we hadn't anticipated the weight of what Wrath would share. Maribel had collapsed to her knees, sobbing under the emotional pain that had surged through us. She and I had at least seen it coming. Ren had been in the middle of a meeting with some noble and his staff when it blindsided him. It wasn't exactly clear what had happened, but a few images that had leaked through the connection implied significant property damage. He later contacted us with the furious accusation that we had embarrassed him by not providing sufficient warning. But I know that his anger was more fueled by the injustice that we'd all been witness to. As for me, my rage is cold, calm, and clear. I did what had to be done, and now I will force them to face the consequences of their evil deeds. The villagers quietly fall in behind me as I pass, until by the time I reach the village center I arrive like the head of a funeral procession. Mrs Ying is waiting at the same table as before, surrounded by a crowd of her own. All are silent—except for one female who breaks into tearful sobs as I draw near. She lunges forward as if to run to me, held back by several others, and she struggles in vain to break free. She is very thin, missing patches of fur along her arms. That is Yukiha’s mother. I remember her face from the dream. A wretched woman. I hope what follows is more pain than she can bear, and that it haunts her for a lifetime. “It would appear you were successful,” Mrs Ying says, her satisfied smile fixed on the bundle in my arms. I can tell by the confident way she leans back in her chair, smirking at me, that she believes herself victorious. Her plan was simple: push her dirty work onto clueless adventurers. She is expecting anger. Expecting me to report that the “fae” we slew was, in truth, a confused little girl. She will claim ignorance. Claim it