IRON GOD | 2: Empyrean

[2] Qila: Two Demons

Qila nudged the half-open door and let herself into Xigon's study. "I did what you asked. Gave them their assignments. They should all be on their way soon enough."

No response. Xigon was asleep at his desk. The faint light of his dying lantern flickered on the lenses of his goggles. He was perfectly still and quiet, like some finely-carved doll dropped and forgotten.

Qila shook her head. It almost seemed like she found him asleep more often than not these days. She came closer and noticed his hand lay shoved between the front cover and the first page of his favorite book. Carefully, she pulled the book from him. Its worn pages had gathered dust in the days they had spent untouched. She opened the tome to its first page, where the long-dead author's graceful handwriting spelled out an epigraph.

"If two demons whisper to Kaosaan, their names are neither Ignorance nor Despair. To her left is Wisdom. To her right is Hope." 

The word Despair was underlined several times. Probably by Xigon himself, if Qila had to hazard a guess.

A tingling sensation wormed its way down the back of her neck. She didn't have to look to know Xigon was awake. His arm moved to push her away. Qila seized his hand tight enough to crack his knuckles, then restated what she'd said earlier. "It's done. They'll be out soon."

Xigon stared at her hand gripping his, then gave a slow nod.

"That's only a temporary solution, though. They all want to know what's wrong, and I can hardly blame them." She rubbed her thumb along the back of his palm. "You have to tell me."

He shook his head.

"I'm not asking," she pressed. "I'm commanding you. Tell me the truth. No one can help you if you don't let them."

Xigon took a deep snarling breath.

Qila softened her tone but tightened her hold. "How can I convince you?"

"First, a truth from you." His voice came out horribly strained. "Or you'll hear nothing from me."

"Out with it, then." Qila set the book down. "What do you want to know?"

Xigon's eyes darted up to meet hers with frightful intensity. "Why do you act like you care about me?"

The old woman flinched. "I'm not acting, Xigon."

He pursed his lips, seeming unsatisfied with her answer.

"Though, I will admit to something." Qila averted her gaze. "At first, I cared about you for the wrong reasons. I went about it all the wrong way."

Xigon took a sharp breath in.

"I wanted you to be my perfect weapon," she confessed. "A means to achieve my dream. Now I understand you're..."

"More than a weapon?" he scoffed. "You know what I think, Qila?"

"What?" She braced herself for vitriol.

"You're an obsessed little child who saw a pretty insect and decided it had to be yours." He blinked. His head twitched. "Then, when that insect stung you, you cried treason and tried to crush it."

"Is that really how you see yourself?" she asked. "An insect?"

"Better to be an insect than your possession." His fingers clenched in her grip. "Why me, anyway? You've always said..." Xigon hesitated, then raised his other hand to his chest, wincing. "Am I really that much like him? Vraelen?"

"Yes, and that's why I wanted to love you from the moment we collided." She let out a miserable chuckle. "But it didn't take me long to realize you're not a miracle. You're not a gift, and you're certainly not a child of the Iron God, whether his blood runs through you or not."