THE STARRY SKY STARES BACK AT ME LIKE A WOMAN with deep blue skin and billions of white freckles dotting her delicate skin. There are billions of stars up above me. I pause for a long moment before pulling my gaze from the night sky.

I have to think of a conversation topic. Then one comes to mind. It’s the stupidest thing I have probably ever thought about, but it’s my only chance.

You don’t exactly go to the supreme General of the bloodthirstiest army in history, to have a heart-to-heart talk, so I need to do the opposite. This could make it or break it for me. I close my eyes, letting a wave of dizziness pass over me. I take a deep breath and knock. I stand for a long moment before opening my eyes. The door creaks open. General Sanderson stands in the doorway. He seems to be on the verge of yelling when he spots me. He hides a bloody hand behind his back, but not before I see it. I look up, and I can tell he knows I’ve seen it. His jaw tightens. I wait for a long moment, letting the fresh air waft down my lungs.

“Do you need something?” he asks, voice low.

This undoubtedly the stupidest thing I have ever thought about.

“General, I would like to see Carrie. I have something to tell her,” I say.

There is no going back now. But I know he can’t say yes. He knows that if I see her in the state I did from behind the statue, I would turn on him.

“You can not see her right now,” he says, closing the door a little more, his body blocking the sight to the inside of the room.

“General, please, I must see her,” I press.

“Darsal, Carrie is busy at the moment. You may not see her,” he insists.

I know I have to keep this conversation going unless I want General Sanderson to find his son carrying his prisoner away. But how?

“Busy doing what? Busy rotting in a cell? General, please listen to me. Carrie is the most innocent little girl there is. She has nothing to do with your bloody wars and plans for revenge. I must see her.”

“Darsal, I said no, and that’s final. I have had the generosity of keeping you here, training you as if you weren’t the daughter of the enemy. I trained you out of love. And no not for you,” he says, words clipped.

Out of love...out of love? Something is nagging at the back of my mind. Something my mother told me. I can see hurt in the General’s eyes as I struggle to remember what it was. Something pops into place.

“My mother,” I whisper, jaw dropping a little.

I hadn’t thought of this before. How hadn’t I realized this? General Sanderson has been going easy on me. Not in a million years would he let a Guardian live. And yet he has let me. I can see the fierce light in his eyes.

“How am I supposed to kill someone who looks identical to Jill? How am I supposed to kill someone who looks at me with the exact fierce green eyes? Answer me, so that I can finally have you gone,” he says.

I’m frozen. I don’t breathe, and I’m sure my heart is going to stop. To him, I’m nothing but painful memories of the woman he can’t have.

Like a piece of glass; to get it out, you need to find the tweezers. Then I realize that my mother told no one. I don’t even think Carrie knows.

I know why. Because it would mean Jill would become bait; to lure General Sanderson, to bend him at the Guardians’ will. My mother would have done anything for the Guardians, and I know that—I have all my life—but it wasn’t the bait that kept her back.

To bend someone until they break, to use a part of them against themself; to use their Before. I knew it could break a person. Just like my love for Carrie has broken me. Jill wouldn’t do that to a person. I know I won’t either. Before is the one thing a person protects with their life. There is a legend that in the Eastern Desert, there is a force that can pull your Before in front of you; for it to play in front of you and anyone who is within seeing distance. Of course, no one believed it, but deep down, it created a fear of the Eastern Desert. Some people’s Before were simple and harmless. They had nothing to fear. But for someone with a tight, intricate Before, to expose them and their Before was like slicing open all of their primary arteries. It was deadly.

I look up into the cold eyes, scrutinizing my face. I look away, not able to bear the thought of what General Sanderson might have felt. Like Carrie turning her back on me.

The silence is interminable. It can be minutes, or it can be hours since I’m standing there, the General looking at me. I can’t help but look at the dirt, not bearing to stare into the pained face of a man who never shows emotions at all. A man who is the most feared in the country. A man that, as I look up, I can see is struggling to fight whatever is going on inside of him.

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It’s been long enough.

“You should go,” General Sanderson says as if reading my thoughts.

I nod and turn around. The door slams behind me, shaking me out of my stupor. I run. I race around the building, nearly colliding into Zak.

“You okay?” he asks, grabbing me by both shoulders.

I nod, then look behind him. I find a black horse, its sides rippling with strength, fastened to a metal ring in the wall. Lying against the stone wall is Carrie, unconscious. I stand motionless, staring into emptiness, my conversation echoing in my skull, as if desperate for a way out.

Zak gives me a hard shake, taking my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. Panic fills his green eyes.

“Darsal, snap out of it. I don’t know what he did to you, but you’re scaring me. Come on, I need help to get Carrie on the horse,” he says.

I nod, swinging myself onto the bare back of the horse. Zak lifts Carrie’s thin body to me. All I do is stare into her pale face, covered in blood and dirt. Her hair is closer to blond than what I remember. I run my fingers through the knots. Her eyes are closed.

“Darsal, are you listening to me?” I can hear Zak’s voice say, obviously getting frustrated with my absent mind.

“Sorry what?” I say, pulling my eyes off of Carrie. My head feels as if stuffed with cotton.

“I asked if you or I were going to direct the horse. Never mind. You’re in no state to do so anyway,” he says, before being interrupted by an angered scream.

General Sanderson's cry echoes, alerting every Scriptios for a mile. Zak swings himself in front of me, giving a flick of the reins. The horse bolts, hoofs sending up a cloud of sand behind us. We’re three, but Carrie isn’t much more than a feather in terms of weight, and I’m light.

Guards are already pouring into the street behind us, but none on horses. Arrows wiz by our heads as we gallop away. I prop Carrie up against my chest, but I need to hold her with both hands to keep her from slipping off. Just as we turn the corner, a soldier appears, knife in hand. He throws it before I can do anything. It spins three times before lodging itself in Carrie’s stomach. A pained scream escapes her lips.

“No!” I cry out, but there is nothing I can do.

Zak sends a spear through the man before I get to it, but where it comes from, I don't know. The man falls as I mutter curses under my breath. I take Carrie’s light body in my arms, cradling her like a baby. I can tell she’s fighting with consciousness right now, squeezing her eyes closed. They finally open. The moment they do, I wish they didn’t. They’re a colour of ice, filled with so much anguish, it makes me want to cry. They fix on me for a moment before she lets out a pitiful moan. Her face is pale and twisted in pain.

“Darsal?” she finally manages between gasps.

“Shhh, Carrie. We’re going to get you safe,” I whisper in her ear.

The wound is deep, and nothing but the handle sticks out. Blood drains from my face. Blood oozes from the wound. I don’t have a choice.

“Is she going to be okay?” Zak asks, voice as wobbly as I feel.

“I—I don’t know. It’s bad, Zak. It’s terrible,” I say, tears threatening to overtake me. Then to Carrie, “I’m going to have to take the knife out, okay?”

She gives an anguished nod as I attempt to think of what I can make use of, like a bandage. The Scriptio army’s armour is nothing but leather. Then I think of a white shirt I put on underneath to help shield the cold. I can’t think of anything else to use, so I pull it off. The brief exchange leaves me chilled to the bone.

Adrenaline is pumping through my veins faster than ever, making my saliva thicken with it. I take a deep breath, my hand clutching the cold leather handle. I count under my breath. One... Two... Three. I pull the knife as hard as I can.

Carrie screams a scream to make your heart stop. All the blood in my veins turns to ice as it echoes through the night. Arrows stop flying for a split second as the cry invades everyone’s minds, knocking everything else away.

I risk a glance back at the guards. It masked their faces with horror. Some drop their weapons and only gape as if asking themselves, ‘What am I doing here? Why am I trying to kill an innocent young girl?’

Some men downright put their weapons on the ground and walk away. But a man with a cruel, hardened face picks up a bow and shoots an arrow. This seems to jar the rest of the people still there and the weapons rain on me again.

Carrie is heaving large breaths, gulping down air. The crimson blood is going freely now. I wrap my shirt around her stomach as tightly as I can, slowing the blood flow. But it’s still going. I don’t realize blood is dripping down my neck. Undoubtedly an arrow has found it. A couple of inches over to the side and I would be a goner. An arrow flies by my head and I have decent enough instincts to pull my head over to the side. It slices through my ear, making me muffle a scream of my own. Pain shoots through my body, but I push it back. Carrie is gulping down air, and I need to help her.

Zak has somehow succeeded to push all the guards back and has found another spear. Where he gets all of them, I do not know, but I will not ask right now.

I pull back in unison with his arm, giving him room to throw. I hadn’t thought of this, but the solid iron gates of the camp are rapidly approaching.

He hurls the spear at them. I reckon all that training paid off. The spear spirals forward, slicing through the lock. The gates rotate open for a second and the black horse slides through, seconds before they crash shut behind us, stopping our pursuers. But we’re far from safe.

Zak directs the horse into the woods. We crash through trees, letting us be flogged unceasingly by the branches and bushes. I do my best to protect Carrie from the blows. I dig my knees in the horse’s side to keep my seat.

In my arms, Carrie is moaning pitifully. And for the first time I realize that no matter how hard I try, I might not save her. The only thing I can do is get her to the Guardians before it’s too late. I hold her against my chest, wishing with all my being that the little sister I love so much will be safe.

“Dear God, please let her be safe,” I whisper, clinging to her thin body against my chest, "Please not Carrie."