Wyatt awoke to find that everything hurt, even in places that he had never been hurt before. Even his eyelids ached, and it took more effort than it should’ve to force his eyes open.

He was in an unfamiliar room. It was small and impersonal, with no private mementoes or anything that signified that someone lived in here. Guest room, Wyatt thought as he surveyed the small wooden shelves nailed into the wall that were stocked with a few dozen or so books.

There was also his bed, which was moderately comfortable with clean woolen sheets and a fluffed pillow. An open window allowed in the sun’s rays, which thankfully beamed on his chest rather than his face.

An empty chair stood next to his bed. It was a rather large chair that was somehow familiar. After frowning at it for a minute, Wyatt settled back and stared at the wooden ceiling.

This is better than some inns I’ve slept in.

Wyatt tried to move his foot to a more comfortable position, wincing as a flare of pain ran up the length of his body.

To his side, the door opened. Wyatt couldn’t see the door, but he could see the man that tromped into the room. He was a bear of a man with cropped white hair and a beard. He was in his mid-sixties but still moved with the grace of someone half his age. His shirt and trousers were brown, and his eyes were reddened from tears as he sat down in the chair.

“Jor,” Wyatt growled, finally recognizing the man. He had been his mentor when he had first joined the Citadel Guard, teaching him all the tricks of the trade. He had ‘retired’ years ago, but it was well-known that if you paid the right price, Jor would be willing to get his hands dirty for just about anything. It had been the cause of many arguments between them, gradually leading to them breaking things off and heading their separate ways a decade or so ago.

Jor said nothing, staring at Wyatt. His eyes were wet with tears as his bearded lips quivered. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt,” Jor said eventually, his voice thick. “Forgive me for what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done?” Wyatt asked, narrowing his eyes. “What have you done this time, Jor?”

“What—” Jor started, then stopped. He leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Wyatt, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I…” Wyatt began, struggling to remember. In addition to his body, his head ached as well, making it difficult to recall anything that had happened recently. “I got new stock in yesterday, I had a business proposal that I rejected last night, and then…”

It came to him in a flash. Captain Nathaniel, Bella’s Testing. His family burning alive.

Wyatt shook his head and closed his eyes. His stomach churned, and he swallowed down bile. “No,” Wyatt said. He could see Lea and Bella rolling on the ground, screaming as they burned. Tears leaked out of the corners of Wyatt’s closed eyes and rolled down their face. “They’re not dead.”

“I’m sorry, Wyatt,” Jor said. He sounded as though he was barely keeping his composure. “I did all that I could, but Nathaniel… he came for me.”

Wyatt wiped his eyes, glorying in the pain that the simple movement brought him. “You promised that you would protect Bella,” Wyatt hissed. He opened his eyes and glared at Jor, who bowed his head mournfully. “It was one last favor for me. I get you out of your latest scrape, and you would call in a few favors owed to you and get Bella removed off the List.”

“I did,” Jor said. His head was still bowed. “For a time, it worked. Years passed before anyone noticed.”

“Who noticed?”

“Who do you think?” Jor said, sniffing and scrubbing at his eyes with the back of a massive hand. “Nathaniel.”

“And how did he know to look?” Wyatt pressed. It was hard keeping his anger contained, but he had to know what happened and why it had happened. He sat up as much as he could, staring up at Jor unblinkingly. “How did he know, Jor?”

“I found you on the side of the road,” Jor mumbled brokenly. His shoulders were shaking. “There was an explosion that could be seen and heard for miles around. I was doing a job outside of the city when I saw it. I didn’t think it was your place, but I was curious. When I found you, I snuck you back into the city, Wyatt. It was horrible. Bodies were everywhere. I…” Jor broke off, unable to speak anymore. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Wyatt growled, tensing. He regretted the move immediately and took a shuddering breath as white-hot pain wracked his body. Jor reached out, but Wyatt shook his head, and Jor retracted his hand quickly as if Wyatt had smacked it back.

“You should stay still,” Jor said, his voice tentative.

Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t care if I’m going to die in the next five minutes,” Wyatt rasped. “Answer me!”

“Nathaniel came a few weeks ago,” Jor said. “He said there were some discrepancies in the records. I told him that I had left the Citadel’s employment years ago. I didn’t even know it was about you at first, Wyatt. Nathaniel is unpopular for being a bully and an arrogant prick, but until now, he had done his job satisfactorily.”

“Was,” Wyatt said.

“You killed him,” Jor said matter-of-factly. He covered his face with his hand. “Diev almighty, Wyatt.”

“Lot of good it did me,” Wyatt said. He shuddered as the screams of Lea and Bella rang in his ears. It pierced his soul, and Wyatt wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and let out his misery.

Not yet. I must know.

“I told Nathaniel that I had no idea what he was talking about. He nodded and then said that maybe I would remember if my granddaughter’s head was delivered to me.”

“Azmar’s Bane,” Wyatt cursed. He was still furious at Jor, but he would’ve done the same thing in Jor’s position. “He threatened to kill her, Wyatt,” Jor said softly. He looked away, and Wyatt had never seen Jor look so old. “My little granddaughter. She just learned how to walk, Wyatt, she…” Jor began to cry silently, his shoulders shaking as tears dropped down to the wooden floor.

“I asked him what he was talking about,” Jor said through his tears. “You aren’t the only one I’ve done this for, Wyatt. I told him that I couldn’t help him if I didn’t know. Nathaniel then had this smug look on him, that fucker. I wanted to wring his neck with my bare hands, but he had come fully kitted with some of his men, and he had caught me at my home after dinner. He then said he was making sure the Testing records were complete. He asked about your daughter, Bel—”

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“Don’t say her name,” Wyatt snapped. Jor reared back as if he had been slapped. “Don’t.”

“OK,” Jor said. He took a deep breath and scrubbed his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “That’s fine, Wyatt.”

“Continue,” Wyatt said. “Tell me what happened.”

“He asked about your daughter,” Jor began. Wyatt tensed, but Jor didn’t mention Bella’s name. “I told him that I haven’t seen you for years, and that we haven’t spoken to one another for just as long. He didn’t care. He said he knew, he had proof of what I’d done, and he would ‘make me regret hiding Wyatt’s family if I kept doing it.’ His exact words, Wyatt.”

“And so, you gave him what he wanted,” Wyatt said. He felt numb. “You told him where we were.”

“I did,” Jor confirmed. “He was baffled that you were so close. He was delighted. He said that he had thought you had the sense to go further away.”

“Would that I had,” Wyatt muttered.

Jor gave Wyatt a look full of uncertainty, but when Wyatt said nothing, he nodded and kept going. “I said that you owned an inn on the road to Velaire. He asked which inn, and I said I didn’t know its name, just that you owned it. He accepted that, but only just.”

“How long ago was that?” Wyatt asked. He didn’t even know how he was keeping his composure at this point. He was drowning, his world had been reduced to ashes, and he was weak and helpless. He didn’t even want to leave this bed ever again, and if there was a sharp object in this room, he didn’t know what he would do.

“I pulled you out of the rubble on the first of August, Wyatt. It’s now the fourth.”

Wyatt closed his eyes. Three days since his family had died. Three days since his life had ended. What I wouldn’t give to join them.

“Wyatt?”

Wyatt didn’t respond.

“How are you feeling, Wyatt?”

Wyatt opened his eyes and glared at Jor, who flinched back.

“DO YOU THINK I’M—” Wyatt began to shout and then started to cough as his chest seized. He gasped for breath for a while, trying to maintain consciousness. He felt as though he was burning up inside.

“That was a bad way of asking my question,” Jor said gruffly. “Sorry, Wyatt. What I meant was how are you feeling physically?”

“Physically,” Wyatt scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Like a purse-full of gold, Jor.”

“Wyatt.”

Jor’s voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. Despite himself, Wyatt looked into Jor’s burning gaze.

“I need to know how you are feeling,” Jor said. “Are you hurting? Do you have difficulty breathing?”

“Aside from you asking stupid questions, I can breathe fine,” Wyatt snapped. He tried to turn over and put his back to Jor, but his body exploded into a miasma of pain. He flopped back onto his pillow, groaning pitifully.

“Clearly,” Jor said dryly.

“Fuck you, Jor,” Wyatt moaned. He turned his head so that he was looking at the wooden ceiling. “Fuck you and the horse you dragged me here with.”

“I actually had a cart,” Jor said. “I was doing a job—”

“Spare me,” Wyatt snapped. “I don’t want to hear about your jobs. Look at you, Jor. You’re fat and old. How are you still alive?”

Jor’s expression turned from a sad old man to something far more dangerous. He leaned forward, and Wyatt raised an eyebrow as the man loomed over him.

“Like this,” Jor growled before sitting back in his chair and resuming his mournful expression. “I’m a good actor, Wyatt. If I wasn’t born to a whore, I would’ve made a living on the stage.”

“The world is your stage, you arrogant old man,” Wyatt said, rolling his eyes. “We’re just all stuck here forced to listen to your nonsense. Go away.”

“No.”

“Did I stutter?” Wyatt demanded.

“No,” Jor said. His expression was closed off. “You didn’t.”

“Then, leave me,” Wyatt said. He managed to point to where the door would be. He managed it, but only just. “Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.”

“I will go,” Jor began, “but we need to speak further, Wyatt. You aren’t safe here. Nathaniel wasn’t shy about making the reasons for his visit known, and people are looking for you. They’re pissed, and they want your head.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Wyatt said. His lips were quivering, and tears were building up in his eyes. He had gotten his answers and now he needed some time alone. “I don’t care if the King of Velaire is waiting outside of this room. Leave me alone.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Jor said. “It’s just us in some shack I bought a few years back in some shithole area of Velaire. You know what I’m talking about. The Citadel is on the warpath, too. They know somehow exactly what happened, and they want you badly. They won’t find us here for a while, but people talk.”

“Just like you talked,” Wyatt said, sneering at the ceiling. It was easier to look at that than Jor’s pathetic expression. “Everyone has their price, don’t they?”

“They do, Wyatt,” Jor’s voice said solemnly. “They do.”

Jor left, closing the door gently behind him. Wyatt waited until Jor’s footsteps had faded, and then he began to cry. It came out of him like a flood and was completely out of his control.

He raged and cried, burying his face into his pillow and screaming himself hoarse. He kept screaming until his voice gave out, his screams joining the unending chorus of Lea and Bella’s dying screams. Their cries were all he could hear; their burning flesh was all he could smell. He closed his eyes. He could see his family burning and rolling on the floor, trying to put out the flames that were consuming them. Wyatt wanted nothing more than to join them and to end this pain. He wanted to beg for their forgiveness, to tell them that he loved them and how sorry he was.

Wyatt threw his pillow away. It hit the bookshelf and knocked over a few books that fell to the floor. Wyatt gasped as pain roared through his body from the throw, but he didn’t care.

There was a knock on the door. “Wyatt, are you hurt?” Jor said, his voice muffled by the door. “Do you need anything?”

“I NEED YOU TO STAY OUT!” Wyatt roared and then was consumed by a coughing fit as his chest burned as if he, too, was burning. He relished in the pain, gloried in it. I would burn a thousand deaths in their place.

The door opened, and Jor came in. Wyatt was too tired to yell at him, so instead, he glared at the man as he picked up the pillow and handed it back to Wyatt.

“You should try and sleep,” Jor said quietly.

Wyatt wanted to throw the pillow again into Jor’s face, but the old man was looking as broken as Wyatt felt. Wyatt instead lifted his head, and Jor put the pillow under him. Jor then picked the books off the floor and put them back to their places on the shelves.

Jor then looked at him, saying nothing. A tear trailed down his cheek, and he bowed his head and left, closing the door gently behind him.

All at once, Wyatt felt exhausted. He wanted to cry; he wanted to rage, he wanted to resurrect Nathaniel and his men and kill them again.

Instead, Wyatt felt himself unwillingly fall back asleep. He allowed himself to, if only to escape the dying screams of his family ringing in his ears.