I CAN FEEL THE COLD BLADE FOLLOW ME FROM BEHIND. I WINCE AS ZAK PUSHES ITS END harder against my skin. He recognizes I have two knives and my sword, but to expose Carrie as my sister is something he’s prepared to do the moment I protest. I close my eyes, refusing to walk anymore.

“Darsal, don’t make this harder than it already is,” he says pleadingly as the knife presses into the wound on my neck.

“How the heck is this supposed to be hard on you? You’re the one messing up my life!”

“Shut up, Darsal,” he commands, jaw snapping with force.

“No, Zak, listen to me first and move your knife from my neck. Don’t you want to torture me? I’m no fun to torture when I'm dead, am I?”

“Quit stalling.” I don’t move. He looks up at the sky, swallowing hard, “Fine, you have five minutes.”

I wipe the blood from my neck. He sheaths the knife and glares at me.

“I’m not Sam’s friend,” I say, “He’s only trying to get on my nerves. I know you better than this. Come on, Zak. What the heck happened to you?”

I can see him clench his jaw. Whatever is going on isn’t just nothing. He doesn’t look like he wants to do this. Something has happened and I want to find out what. Zak pauses.

“You going to tell me what happened back with the Guardians?” he asks.

I clench my jaw, “Never. I don’t need to add to the story you’re going to tell.”

***

I’m in front of General Sanderson, keeping my mouth shut. He glowers at me, glancing up from my “list of crimes”.

I’m in a spacious room. General Sanderson stands behind a desk littered with jumbled papers, thick, lush red carpet underfoot. A large wooden door is on the far wall.

I fight against the ropes fastening me to the chair. The corner of General Sanderson’s mouth curves up into a smile, noticing my struggle. His squarish appearance, angular face, shoulders, posture, as well as his black hair vaguely remind me of someone, but I can’t put a finger on it. He scratches his chin, lifting an eyebrow.

“You’re my prisoner, now, you vixen. Do you understand that, Darsal?” I only glare, “There are multiple ways I can put you to death. I could have you hanged, lynched, burned..”

“I get it,” I say, voice tight.

He’s rubbing it in my face that I’m going to die and I hate it.

"That is only,” he continues, “if you don’t cooperate. It would be much simpler to just kill you on the spot, maybe some torture involved, but the person who turned you in has convinced me otherwise. I’ve decided that you get a choice. I have you lynched or become my right-hand man, or, well, woman.”

I only stare at the man. Is he going nuts? Am I going nuts? I’m bewildered and disoriented.

“I train you to become the most feared combatant on the battlefield, and you assist me in taking down the Guardians for good. In exchange, you keep your life. If you betray the Scriptios, I will attend to your lynching.”

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The best I can do is stare. He’s—what—giving me a second chance?

“Speak up, girl. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one on your fighting team?”

“Fine, I’ll help,” I say between clenched teeth.

What choice do I have? I am a Scriptio, aren’t I? I left my other life behind. But I don’t feel the want for revenge anymore. It’s almost as if I want to forgive the Guardians. No! my mind screams, They killed your mother! They’re the bad guys. You want revenge — right? I don’t know anymore. I feel the ropes fall from my wrists, and I’m escorted through the wooden door at the end of the room.

All I want is for Carrie to be safe. I’ve made more mistakes than I care to count and I won’t ever be able to forget it. I’m flawed, but I want to go back—back to the life I’ve left behind.

I’m hit in the face with a blast of icy air. Decaying wood stairs spiral into blackness. Two guards walk with me, one in front, one behind, carrying torches.

I shiver as I pass through the doorway. Numbing cold wraps around me. One thing the Scriptios have forgotten to do is disarm me. Thankfully, my weapons had been concealed. I now hold my throw knife in my fist, attracting comfort from the familiar handle. The steps creak as I slowly make my way down the steps. My bare legs feel like they have turned to ice. I have to watch my step. There are spots where the wood rotted, leaving holes wide enough for me to fall through.

As I round the last bend, I’m able to distinguish why it’s so dreary in here; cells line the back wall. Ghostly faces peer up at me from behind bars. Their features are thin and colourless, their skin nearly transparent as if they haven’t seen the light of day in years. There is an eerie glow in the room. A guard unlocks the first cell, pushing me into it. I hear the door squeal in protest as it snaps shut. I hear the lock fasten. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see a shape sitting in the corner. I nearly jump when I hear a voice I know well.

“Fancy meeting you here, princess.” Yet there isn’t any arrogance in his voice.

“I thought…” my voice trails off, then I manage a “Why are you here?”

Zak stands, brushing dirt from his battle gear. I step back, almost afraid he’s going to pull a knife on me again. I stop myself when I see the fear behind his eyes, almost vulnerability. Seeing my apprehension, he lifts his empty hands.

“Don’t… It was bringing you back dead or alive, or my life. I didn’t want to.”

I shiver, rubbing my hands on my bare arms. I slide down the wall to a sitting position. I know nothing anymore, like whether Zak is the good guy or the bad guy. It’s all murky.

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to guess?”

“It’s long. You will not want to…” his voice trails off.

I study him for a moment, before saying softly: “Tell me what happened.”

My neck still stings from his blade. He sighs his defeat and sits down. He hesitates before beginning.

“It’s almost as if… I don’t know, but I almost felt as if the Guardians weren’t half as much into this war and were only defending themselves. It sounds silly, I know, but as a kid, I would go visit my cou… I have met certain Guardians, but they never seemed to hate me. Hesitant, on guard, yes, but they weren’t trying to kill me; Only protect themselves.”

“I told this to my father. He hated me for it. He thought I was a coward and all that. My father, General Sanderson, was furious. He said that it was a distraction. To return my focus to combat, he made me join the Scriptio army.”

“ He would send me out on bloody battlefields and would make me watch horrific scenes I more than once wish I could forget. Then, just to ruin me more, he forced me to betray a friend, nearly costing her life along with her family's. Now, here she sits before me, wanting me to turn to ashes and never to talk to her again.”

My face falls from pitiful to expressionless. Had he said that any other way, I would have labelled it manipulation, but like before, he seems genuinely sorry. I chew the inside of my cheek, unsure of what to say or do.

“Well, now that I know your story, it’s only fair that you know mine,” I finally say, voice unsteady and hoarse.

I pause for a moment. You will not cry today. I never cry. Understand? I think.

“Growing up within the Guardian Forest, I knew everyone. They were like family. But one day, everything went wrong.”