Master

Chapter 63

A/N - I wrote this chapter to Only by RY X, but mostly to Stay by Gracie Abrams - especially in the scenes with Malcolm. Both are in the Master Playlist on Spotify, and the Aiasthlyn one too.

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Lincoln's P.O.V

Lincoln,
I do not write this letter with an eager hand, but there is no other better suited to head these words.

My time in this realm never held any permanence. I know you, more than anyone else, always understood that. It was limited and granted Kalem has told you everything, you may hold a better understanding of why that it is.

I suspect you are rather confused by this whole ordeal that cast you as the focus. In some areas, I am the same. I was meant to help you win the war. For what purpose? I do not know, but I saw it through to the end, and I did not allow any personal qualms to get in the way of that.

I know you have no trust in me, but you have my word that my charge never directed any ill intent upon you or your people. I never swayed your mind or your wants, only supported your plan from its root.

I did, however, form connections and that, I was certainly not meant to do.

My inability to stay focused resulted in the fabrication of several honest relationships, and I know because of that, I have left behind much destruction with only you to tend to it. For that, I am sorry.

I am truly sorry, Lincoln.

As I am remiss in asking this of you - take care of Malcolm.

I know I have no right to ask it, not now, not after all I've done, but I ask it anyway. Take care of him.

Malcolm has told me the tale of how you two became a pair many times, of the decades he spent relentlessly securing your friendship. He was there for you even when you didn't want him near. I ask now that you do the same for him.

Stay at his side. Protect him. Do not let his light fade, and never let him flounder, even if you have to force your company onto him... even if he hates you for it.

Please, Lincoln, take care of him.

Aias

✠

I stare at the shimmering golden page and the carefully written words atop it that were causing my ears to ring.

I read it again, and then once more whilst my fingers tighten around its bottom edge, the bones there threatening to snap against the pages enchantment.

With a curse, I drop the pristine mockery, letting the page fall back to my desk where it had lain since the night its writer fled.

It had appeared the day after he left, waiting patiently like a spot of light in an otherwise shadowed castle. I hadn't thought twice before I'd tossed the offence into the fireplace, leaving it to fend against smouldering coal, but it remained untouched.

After endless attempts to rid this planet of the last mark of that rotting being, I soon discovered that the letter was enchanted. It survived any hardship or attempt of ridding it of the intended reader, which, unfortunately, was me.

The matter was simple then, ignore it for the rest of eternity, and I would have done so if not for Malcolm's suffering.

To witness it, day and night, and have no understanding of how someone could ever leave someone so good behind, and in so much agony at that, was maddening. So I'd sought out the taunting letter, desperate for anything, only to find myself even more enraged.