Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 76: Fractured Bonds

I had no idea how to fix this, and maybe there was no fixing this. Maybe when I left that body, I threw away any chance I had at a happy ending. But if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to protect her, I would have lost the stupid thing in another week or so anyway. Everything seemed to lead to a dead-end.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "He’s busy," I said, the excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. "There are things he has to handle. He—"

"Stop."

The word tore deeper into me than the cultist’s blade. She wasn’t yelling, wasn’t lashing out. If she had, maybe I could have found a way to push back, to turn this into something other than what it was. But she just... shook her head, exhaling through her nose like she had made some final, quiet decision.

And then, she let the cloak fall to the floor, followed closely by a barrage of fallen tears.

She didn’t throw it, didn’t toss it at me in anger—she just released it from her grip. It drifted down, coming to rest on the edge of my feet of my chair, the dark fabric contrasted against the mess of papers littering my room.

I felt something break inside me.

"Mara—"

"I get it." She turned away, towards the door. "You don’t have to explain anymore."

No, no, no—she didn’t get it. That was the problem. She thought she understood, thought she had all the pieces, but she was putting them together wrong, forming the worst possible picture of me, of Lucian, of everything. I should stop her. I should say something, anything.

I should tell her the truth.

But I didn’t, be it because I was too fucking weak, or scared, or what. If I told her, she would hate me, if I didn’t she would hate Lucian. She had to know deep in her heart that there were powers outside of our control that kept us away from one another. I promised we would meet again, I fucking promised her!

She reached for the door handle, and I felt my pulse hammering in my skull. I could hear the words screaming in my head, but they wouldn’t come out.

Instead, all I managed was, "Mara—". I wanted to tell her I loved her, I was sorry, this would all work out, I would defy the gods themselves if I had to. I tried to open my mouth, I honestly gave everything I could, pouring my will into telling her the truth, but nothing came out. I was filled with as much rage as I had sorrow, as I had helplessness and fear and regret, all of my emotions were taking me over and the shadows themselves clawed at my heart. They tore at me, dug deep into my veins, and threatened to consume me whole.

She hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. Then she pulled the door open and walked out.

And then they stopped. The room went cold–maybe not physically, but I could feel nothing but the sharp bite of ice Mara left in her wake. I felt nothing, for that brief blessed moment, I could not feel any of my previous emotions.

I stood there, staring at the spot where she had just been, at the door she left open. I could still chase after her. I could still call her name. But my feet stayed rooted to the ground, and I clenched my jaw so tightly it hurt.

Behind me, Ronan finally spoke. "Your decision appears to have negatively impacted her emotional state."

I exhaled sharply, rubbing at my face. "Ronan... Please..." I could feel my own tears welling up in my eyes as slowly, these feelings returned, one at a time, trickle by trickle.

He tilted his head, ever the unreadable enigma. "If this is the outcome you predicted, why do you appear unsatisfied with it?"

I choked out a dark humorless laugh and sank down onto the edge of my bed, staring at what I could see of the cloak Mara had left on the floor, part of the hook peeking out from behind my desk. I stared at it, the dark fur and familiar embroidery, the lingering scent of something long faded.

"I don’t know," I admitted.

And that was the worst part. Because I did know. I just wasn’t ready to face it.

Outside, I could still hear her footsteps, growing fainter with every passing second.

The next morning, the weight of last night’s conversation still pressed down on me. I had barely slept—every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mara’s face, the way she had looked at me before she walked out. The worst part? I couldn’t even be mad at her. She had every right to leave. Every right to pull away.

Ronan, ever the unwavering presence, sat across from me, silent. He hadn’t asked any more questions after last night, which was rare for him. He just watched, as if waiting to see if I would break the silence first. I was too out of it to even notice if he had left and come back, or if he just stood like a sentinel at the edge of my ped.

Instead of speaking, I just ran a hand through my hair and forced myself to my feet. There was work to be done, even if it felt emptier without Mara there. The cult wasn’t going to take a break just because I was feeling like an emotional wreck.

I found the last physical reminder of Mara as I walked over to my desk to put away my old cloak.

Two pieces of parchment, left on my desk, neatly folded. My stomach twisted before I even read the words.

Caidan,

Here is everything I learned about the cult. I don’t know what your next steps are, but you’re going to have to take them without me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep chasing ghosts. I hope you’ll understand.

—Mara

I read it twice. Three times. The words didn’t change, didn’t rearrange themselves into something less final. The ink was dry, and the decision was made.

Underneath lay what she had discovered while we were off doing that bullshit heist. Everything was written sharp and concisely, it was definitely Mara’s notetaking, or what I would assume her notetaking would be like.

The cult believes in a cycle, one that must be completed for the world to "return to its proper order."

They see the world as an illusion, something that needs to be rebuilt.

Their faith revolves around an entity, possibly a forgotten or forbidden deity.

The lecture hall shifted into a temple when I entered, decorated with intricately carved statues of a woman, beautiful but frightening.

Their motto: "We do not bow. We do not kneel. We do not forget."

The cult is performing sacrifices, I witnessed one unwilling, one willing.

The sacrifices involve mages, their mana drained first as their lives are taken.

The process is not just symbolic, the deaths appear to fuel something. After each death, the chamber itself reacted.

The cult’s leader mentioned that "the gate weakens," implying that their rituals are building toward something major.

All of us were required to mark ourselves with a sigil drawn in a dark, ink-like substance located in a basin.

On the side of caution, I should add that I felt a reaction on my forehead where the sigil was drawn. It altered my mood and fogged my thoughts. It was hard to resist, but this could have all been in my head.

At one point I blacked out and awoke at the end of the ceremony. I do not remember this time.

I was given a small charm, an eye with a slash through it, and told, "Keep this close. It will remind you."

No further information was given.

We know of the summonings they have already begun, and I believe there will be more.

They referred to lost ones returning, implying they are trying to call something back into this world. This brings the concern of necromantic magic.

The cult is expanding their influence—their reach is not limited to hidden chambers. They have members planted in high places, including the Academy itself.

I folded the note and tucked it away in my pocket.

Ronan, as always, chose that moment to speak. "Her departure was expected."

I let out a slow breath. "Yeah."

"She still left you valuable information."

"Yeah."

"And yet, you appear to be experiencing distress."

I shot him a tired look. "Ronan, for someone who doesn’t feel things, you sure love to point it out when I do."

He blinked at me. "That is an accurate statement."

I sighed, rubbing at my temples. "Alright. No use standing around brooding. We’ve got work to do."

Ronan nodded. "What is our next objective?"

I didn’t answer immediately. I turned, looking at the cloak still draped across my bed. I ran my fingers over the fur one last time before pulling my hands away.

"First, we go over the intel Mara left us another couple of times. There is a lot of ’valuable information’, as you put it. Then, we deliver the artifact to the professor and see if he can give us any additional information." My voice was steadier than I expected. "Then... We finish this."

Ronan inclined his head. "Understood."

I didn’t hesitate this time. I grabbed the notes she left, grabbed my blades, and left the room behind.

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