Burned and Broken

Episode 1 of 5 - Scars of Betrayal

Episode 1 | Episode 2 | Episode 3 | Episode 4 | Episode 5 | Epilogue

"Gin. Neat," Cygnus grunted to the bartender, his voice rough with disuse but still carrying a hint of the regal power he once wielded. As he waited for his drink, his eyes scanned the room, taking in a sea of unfamiliar faces. These peasants, with their petty concerns and fleeting lives, could never comprehend the depths of his pain, the immensity of what was stolen from him. Pulling his gaze away from the others, his thoughts turned inward. The weight of his newfound reality pressed down upon him, a punishment no one else could ever comprehend. He’d enjoyed wealth beyond imagination, witnessed beauty beyond compare, and yet here he sat, trapped, condemned to walk among the very creatures he once ruled, his name now forgotten.

The clink of glass on wood pulled him back to the present. Cygnus wrapped his fingers around the tumbler, relishing the burn of the liquor sliding down his throat. In this moment, a drink was his only comfort, a temporary balm for the searing ache of his scars and the gaping void left by all he’d lost. Tracing the rim of his half-empty glass with his finger, the amber liquid within reflected the flickering light. His thoughts drifted to Leda, her ethereal beauty forever seared into his memory along with the twisted constellation of six scars from cigarette burns etched across his face in his namesake pattern—an intentional, yet cruel reminder of her betrayal.

Lifting the glass to his lips, the stale scent of beer mingled with the musty air of the dimly lit tavern. Low murmurs of conversation swirled around him, but Cygnus remained apart, an island adrift in the oceans of their shared oblivion.

"Another," Cygnus said, his voice low and rough as he slid the empty glass toward the bartender, a middle-aged woman with a weathered, leathery face.

Hesitating, perhaps sensing the danger that coiled beneath Cygnus's deceptively calm exterior, she sighed. “You sure? It’s late.”

“I’m sure. Pour,” he said, tapping the glass.

“You’re the boss,” she said, shaking her head and refilling his glass.

“Any luck?” he asked, changing topics.

“Nothing yet,” she answered, placing the bottle under the counter. “But I’ve got all my eyes and ears to the ground. Something will turn up—eventually.”

“Eventually,” Cygnus chuckled, his voice devoid of genuine mirth. “I guess I’ll have to bide my time in the bottom of this glass,” he said, raising it and taking a sip.

The bartender shrugged, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “Patience always bears fruit,” she added as she wiped down the counter.

I used to have all the time in the world, Cygnus mused silently. Now my time is ticking, literally. I need to find him, and soon. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, the irony hitting home. “Patience? Sure, why not? I’ve already lost everything that ever mattered, so what’s a few more days…weeks…months.”

“Patience,” she repeated, the glimmer in her eyes now a glare before she turned, moving down the bar to help another patron.

Cygnus lifted the glass to his lips once more as he caught sight of his reflection in the cracked mirror behind the bar. The jagged lines fractured his image, a twisted kaleidoscope of the man he’d become. Familiar features stared back at him—the strong jawline, the piercing eyes—but they were now etched with lines of weariness, framed by unkempt hair. A stranger.

Again, unbidden memories of Leda flooded his mind, each one a dagger twisting in his gut. He recalled the way her laughter once filled the room, a melody that could make anyone pause. The way her eyes danced with mischief as she whispered secrets in his ear, her breath warm against his skin. And then, the moment her betrayal was laid bare, her true nature revealed in all its cruel glory.

His fingers traced the jagged scars etched into his skin, each one a brutal reminder of his fall from grace. The scars marred his once-perfect visage, now a twisted tapestry of pain and humiliation. He could still feel and smell the burning as Leda pressed the lit cigarettes against his flesh, her eyes glinting with a gleeful satisfaction. It was no ordinary fire that scarred him, but ancient magic, wild and untamed. With each burn, he could feel his mana draining, his power leeching away, binding him to this frail form.

Cygnus slammed his glass down on the bar, the sound sharp and sudden in the murky stillness. He welcomed the pain that shot through his hand, a momentary distraction from the onslaught of memories. But, still, they persisted, relentless in their assault.

He recalled the touch of her hand on his cheek, gentle even as her words dripped with venom. The way she smiled as she watched him fall, stripped of his station and cast down amongst the commoners. A puppet dancing to her tune, he was blind to the strings she had so expertly woven.

Turning away from the mirror, he was unable to bear the sight of his own reflection any longer. The weight of his failure, of his blindness, settled heavy in his bones. But beneath it all, the embers of his rage smoldered. His moment would come. And when it did, Leda and the others in the rebellion would learn the true cost of crossing him.

Cygnus drained the last of his drink, savoring the burn in his throat. He gently set the glass down, a smile widening on his lips. He may be trapped, but he was far from broken. The Fallen King would rise again, and all who stood in his way would be crushed beneath his heel.

It was only a matter of time.

Patience.

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