“This is my home!” Ansoir screamed. He tumbled out of the litter, only to be caught by Brock, who laid him down on the ground.

“Ugh…” Leira said.

Gwil raised his eyebrows at Ansoir’s tantrum. This guy was always so upset. He went to the flailing lord and picked him up by the collar.

“You dirty fucking monsters!” Ansoir screamed. “Bloodthirsty heathens!”

Gwil glanced up at Brock. The Talus kept his distance, nervously rubbing his boulder-hands together.

Gwil let Ansoir hit him in the face a few times. Sometimes people needed that.

“Kill me!” he wailed. “Just kill me! You’ve ruined everything!”

“No,” Gwil said.

“Sorry, sorry,” Leira said. “He’s my responsibility. Let’s knock him out again.”

“I’ll do it,” Cort said.

“No,” Gwil said.

He shifted his hold on Ansoir to pin his arms against his sides. “Stop screaming.”

Ansoir spit in Gwil’s face.

“You’re kind of a piece of shit,” Gwil said. “You freaked out after you hit me with your flying car. But I think you’re just like an annoying little kid. So, it’s not really your fault.”

“Erm, Gwil?” Leira said.

He turned at the worry in her voice. Ansoir’s shrieking had drawn the attention of a handful of prisoners. Most of them continued moving toward the black crater, but this group had split off to encircle the happening, and they were pressing closer.

“He’s the worst of them!” a woman shouted.

“Spill his blood,” another cried.

“We should execute him in the town square!”

Cort pressed back against the mob. Brock was beside himself, head bowed, arms flailing.

“Hey, hey,” Gwil said. He threw Ansoir over his shoulder, crouched, and, with a burst of Nirva, leapt over the heads of the buzzing mob to land behind them.

Gwil pointed at them and wagged his finger. “No one come any closer or I’ll beat you up.”

Leira pushed her way through the crowd to stand between Gwil and the mob. “He’s right,” she said. “Ansoir is just a stupid little guy. Would killing him really accomplish anything?”

“Yeah!” roared the mob.

“Cort! What are you doing?” Leira hissed.

He stood off to the side, leaning on his spear. He shrugged. “I realized I don’t actually care what happens here.”

Gwil dropped Ansoir on the ground and said, “Apologize to them, Antoin.”

Leira facepalmed. That idea had pissed the mob off even more, driving them into a frenzy.

“What the fuck is an apology worth?” said a woman with a voice shrill enough to cut steel.

“Nothing for you,” Gwil said. “But I wanna make him do it.”

It didn’t seem like they could even hear him over their clamoring.

So, he yelled, “Hey! Shut up!”

Silence, except the wind and their wheezing lungs.

“Nobody talk, or I’ll beat you up for that too,” Gwil said. Then he grimaced at himself. “Ah shit. I don’t wanna be like that. You can talk, of course. But I’m not gonna let anyone hurt this guy, so go away or something.”

The shrill woman pushed her way forward, tears streaming down her face.

“Limmy, don’t bother,” Cort groaned.

“Why?” Limmy shrieked at Gwil. “You’ve been here for a couple days. Why do you get to decide? You don’t know anything. A thousand of us have been killed. We’ve been tortured for years.” She spat. “My sister died of infection after a whipping. She spent her last breaths choking on her own vomit. Death is better than he deserves. Just give us this little scrap of revenge.”

“Of justice!” someone cried out.

“No,” Gwil said.

“WHY?” And that scream might’ve pierced the sky to fall upon the ears of deaf, dumb, and blind gods.

Gwil shook his head. “You don’t get to kill this helpless, pathetic person just ‘cause you want to. Work out why for yourselves. Go away, forget about Antoin. He doesn’t matter.”

Ansoir, who had been cowering behind Gwil’s legs, crept out and prostrated himself before the prisoners. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry!” He bawled, gulping for air between sobs. “I-I-I-I was blind! I see now that you’re all human.”

The prisoners were momentarily stunned, but quickly resumed being angry. Cort inserted himself into the situation at that point and began shooing everyone away, sending them off toward the rest of their fellows at the crater.

“Please, just let me…” Ansoir trailed off as he crawled up into Brock’s outstretched hand, and then went back into the litter and closed the curtains.

Leira was beaming. “Gwil! That was Ashkana-worthy.”

“Eh,” Gwil said. “I didn’t really mean to do any of that.” He scratched his chin; his beard had grown itchy and annoying. “Hmm. Cort, do you think any of them will wanna attack the manor?”

“Definitely,” Cort said. “I reckon a lot of them are way more interested in revenge than freedom. They’d probably storm that manor without you.”

“Yeah, okay. Everyone should do whatever they want,” Gwil said. “But we gotta keep an eye on the extra sick people and the extra old people. I don’t want anyone keeling over and breaking my promise to Isca.”

“Man, why do you care so much about any of this?” Cort grumbled.

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“This isn’t the World I was waiting for.”

***

The walls of the black crater were formed of tightly packed glassy dust. The end of the canyon had been blasted away; the mountain that stood above had vanished—consumed by the sphere of devastation.

Like an enormous lake filled with inky nothingness.

The prisoners gathered at the edge of the pit. Some stood still and silent, captivated. Others spat or wept. A few pissed into the emptiness.

Kneeling at the edge, Gwil scooped up a handful of the black crystalline substance and closed his fist. It crumbled, the fragility reminding him of shed snakeskin.

The pit looked bottomless, plumbing far deeper than the mines had. In the depths, Gwil could see fleet, indistinct splotches, a bit like the afterimages one sees if they look at the sun.

“It’d be cool to go down there,” Gwil said. He looked at Cort, who knelt beside him. The hulking man looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Gwil clapped him on the back. “I can’t wait to find out how she escaped.”

Gwil stood—he didn’t want to bother Cort—and went to Leira, who had maintained a healthy distance from the crater.

“I knew you’re afraid of heights,” Gwil said.

She shook her head. “I dunno what that might’ve opened up. I don’t want to be seen.”

Gwil frowned and recalled his promise to Skuld. Leira feared something. He could tell that it hung over her constantly. She was so strong for carrying all that weight.

They’d have to get rid of it. Gwil could not stand to watch her suffer.

A little old man hobbled toward them, using a broken spear as a cane.

“Diom!” Gwil shouted, thrilled to see that the man looked rather spry.

But Diom did not hear his call. The old man went right past them to where Cort sat at the edge of the pit.

“Look!” Gwil yelled. “There’s my shoe!”

He ran over and picked it up. The very tip of the toe had been touched by the Kaia explosion, leaving a tiny hole.

***

Cort looked up, annoyed that Gwil had already turned to disturb him. Instead, he saw Diom. The old man’s bones creaked as he sat down with painstaking care.

Cort readied to catch him in case he toppled over the edge.

The old man buried his wrinkly face in his wrinkly hands. “You were close with her, weren’t you?” Diom wheezed.

“Yeah,” Cort grunted with some surprise. He had thought Diom incapable of speech.

“It’s my fault,” Diom said, the buzzing sound wavering as his breath quickened.

“Eh?”

“I think…” the old man whimpered and shook his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I told her she had to carry all of us. I only meant to give her strength.”

Cort shook his head. “Huh?”

“She must have thought that committing the ultimate sacrifice would fuel a fire in us. She made herself our martyr.” Sobs racked his thin frame.

“Isca is not dead, Diom,” Cort said.

The old man lifted his head and blinked tears from red and rheumy eyes. He looked at Cort, then down into the abyssal pit, then back at Cort. He raised a wiry eyebrow, an eyebrow so bolstered by disbelief that its arch was as steep as a mountain peak.

“Dear boy,” Diom said. “Don’t let grief drag you into delusion. Cherish her memory, care for it as you would a precious flower, let it flourish. But don’t-”

“Dammit, she’s not dead!” Cort yelled.

Diom shook his head and made to stand. “Please, I can’t stand seeing you like this. Throw me into this pit if it would help you find acceptance. I deserve to be punished.”

“I’m not gonna do that!” Cort barked. He stood up and dragged Diom away from the edge.

***

“What in the fuck…” Leira muttered. “Why is Cortemius berating that old man? And now he’s manhandling him!”

“Hey Diom, what’s wrong?” Gwil said, leaning to look past Cort.

“He thinks Isca killed herself ‘cause of some stupid advice that he gave her,” Cort said.

Gwil laughed. “Isca’s not dead.”

“That’s what I-”

“She’s… she’s not?” Diom said, his eyes wide and sparkling.

“Definitely not,” Gwil said.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Diom cried. “Thank every god from the sea to the stars.”

“What?” Cort roared. “Why do you believe him?”

“Because this newcomer is a miracle,” Diom whispered.

“Bu-whu-I,” Cort stammered. “Okay. Whatever.”

“Sir,” Leira said. “I spoke to Isca after the blast.” She pointed at her eyeflower. “With this. She’s alive and well.”

Cort put his hands over his eyes and groaned while Gwil looked at Leira and said, “Really?”

Diom clasped his hands together. “It’s as if you two came from a dream that I never dared have.

“See, I was a much younger man when Lord Stondemaier imprisoned me. There are none alive among the prisoners who know this, but I once served as Stondemaier’s chief retainer.

“When dearest Ophelia tragically passed away, Stondemaier was inconsolable. He purged everything, including his humanity. Me and the rest of his closest advisors were detained.

“We were made to share in the terrible fate that we had imparted upon so many innocents. The prison. The Kaia’s poison. It was… a sobering experience. We’d been affluent, drunk on power, filled with self-superiority. And blind.

“We came to understand that we deserved it. That we had earned this punishment.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “Seventeen years. Only I remain. I took their penitence upon my shoulders. And I swore to myself that I would not die until I could meet my brothers in hell and tell them that I put an end to the suffering that we fostered.” Wheezing to catch his breath, Diom smiled, big and toothless. “I knew it was a fool’s hope, but it kept me going.”

“Wow! You sure talk a lot, old man,” Gwil said.

“I never heard him say two words,” Cort muttered.

“Dammit!” Leira squeaked, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t tie yourself down like that, Diom,” Gwil said. “You’re gonna need something else to live for.”

With that, Gwil turned and ran.

***

“Gwil!” Leira shouted. “Show them how worthless they are!”

He looked at her over his shoulder, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face.

“What the hell is he doing?” Cort said.

“C’mon, gather them up,” Leira said. “We gotta follow him.”

“Fuck that,” Cort said. “All these lives on the line and he runs off on a whim.”

Leira turned on him. “You can’t be as thick as you look. Don’t you get it? He brought this godsforsaken place to its knees. By accident. We came here on a whim. He only became a Hallow a fucking week ago. He doesn’t even have an Invoke-”

“That lying bastard!”

“And look what he’s done. He did all this—helped all of you—just because he wanted to. No other reason. Lady Ashkana is looking for him. He’s special. And you’re an idiot if you don’t see it.”

Leira had started shouting, though she hadn’t meant to. Many of the escapees had gathered around to listen.

“Alright, alright,” Cort groaned. “I see it. I’m not blind. That doesn’t mean he gets to just run off without saying anything.” He shook his head. “It’s just plain rude!”

They watched as Gwil scurried up the sliced end of the wall. The Kaia blast’s arc had carved a gentle slope that led right up to the top of the wall. Even Diom could’ve scaled it.

There was no other way they could’ve reached the manor. The explosion had created a path.

“Or maybe he knows we’re fucked if the way isn’t clear,” Leira said.

Doctor Buzzard appeared beside her elbow, and she nearly leapt out of her shoes.

“I assure you that this is a worthwhile interruption,” Buzzard said. He twisted his goggles. “Is that Gwilym up there? Anyway, you intend to attack the Burgermeister’s manor, correct?”

“Yeah,” Cort said.

“Surely you do not intend to bring all these poor, infirm souls along on such a dangerous endeavor?” Buzzard said.

“No,” Cort said, raising an eyebrow.

Buzzard rubbed his hands together. “I have an endless number of tricks up my sleeve, as any genius should. I have constructed a small airship in my spare time.” He turned and pointed. “It’s hidden inside that distant butte. I would be happy to fly everyone to safety.”

That stirred the mob of escapees into an uproar.

“Are you insane?” Cort said through clenched teeth. He raised his hands, his fingers bent and twisted, barely restraining himself from wringing Buzzard’s neck.

“Is it more insane than marching across these barren lands with a horde of sickly people? Through the Stormlands? Potentially for weeks, while assailed by all manner of dangers. Heehee. How did you intend to feed them? Or were you going to eschew responsibility?”

Cort laughed. “That is fucking rich coming from you, you little-”

Buzzard lifted his goggles onto his forehead. Perhaps because of his glowing eyes, it did not have the reassuring effect he might have intended.

“I deserve some blame, yes,” Buzzard said. “But that does not change the facts. These people are dependent on Kaia. Half of them will die without treatment. The rest, a year? I am their only chance. I will bring them to safety right now. Gwilym might be confident, but the World is cruel. Your victory is not assured.”

The mob’s anger simmered down into animated discussion.

Diom, who still stood nearby, cleared his throat. The phlegmy sound made Leira’s skin crawl.

“I will not speak for the others as to whether they are willing to accept Buzzard’s aid.” Spit sputtered from his dry, cracked lips. “But I can speak for all of them on this: None of us will leave Podexia until the fighting is over, no matter the outcome.”

“Holy hell, Diom?” Buzzard said, putting his goggles back on. “I can’t believe you’re still alive! Does Stondemaier know? I must study your physiology. You are an anomaly.”

Cort climbed up onto a rock and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Listen up!”