“Well, come on,” Quell says, heading to the front of the tent and holding the flap open for me.

Outside the sky has turned purple, pink clouds swallowing up the stars. The sun is still hidden behind a dune, but I doubt it will be for much longer. Guards fall into step behind Quell and me as we move away from the tent, though mercifully they hang back far enough to allow me to speak to Quell privately. I keep my voice low anyway.

“That story you told about necromancy binding me to the body of a dead soldier,” I say. “Was all that true? Is that why I’m here? In this body?”

“Oh, no,” Quell laughs. “That was all hogwash. It’s a good thing neither of those two have enough magical theory to realize it was entirely fabricated. The mechanics wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny for anyone versed in that field of magic.”

I frown. “Then how did it really happen?”

“That,” Quell says, pointing at me, “is an excellent question. And I can’t wait to learn the answer.”

“Discreetly,” I say. I’m certainly not as enthused about my circumstances as Quell, but it would help to have someone on my side trying to unravel how exactly I got here, where Echo and the Role Requirement came from, and how I can get rid of them. “That demigod…”

“Of course!” Quell says. “Of course. I am the picture of discretion.”

I somehow have my doubts.

Quell leads me through the camp, beelining around soldiers busy cutting up the carrion cactus and packing the pieces away. Several pause to dip their heads and mutter a greeting as Quell passes. Either he doesn’t hear them, or he’s so used to the treatment that he’s numb to it, as he gives no response and continues to weave around the tents. Finally, we arrive in a clearing filled with giant, horse-sized lizards.

“Whoa,” I say, stopping dead in my tracks as Quell approaches the closest one. Dozens of water bags are tied to their sides, one of which Quell retrieves. One lizard beast turns its head to look at me from the side, its tongue flicking out to test the air. Its hide is as black as night, though the faint morning light catches on its scales like an oil slick. It’s not big enough to swallow me whole, not especially with my armor, but it might be able to snatch up a stick-of-a-person like Quell.

“You haven’t seen a star drake before?” he asks, noting my look and the healthy distance I’m giving the beasts.

“I’ve seen lizards,” I say. “Just never ones this big. They won’t think we’re bugs and try to eat us, will they?”

Quell laughs. “We wouldn’t use them to carry our supplies if they did. Here.” He hands me the skin of water.

“Thanks,” I say, wasting no time in popping the end open to take a huge gulp. Even though it’s room temperature, I’ve never tasted anything so delicious. The water pours down my throat, easing the scratchy dryness that had lodged there. I hadn’t realized how parched I was after everything.

“Careful,” Quell says. “Drinking it all in one go will make you sick.”

I pause to gasp in a breath. “I could use a second one, actually. This won’t last me very long.” I typically drink more than this during my workouts.

“That’s a night’s ration of water,” Quell says. “Lucky for you, you’ll get another one at dusk in about ten hours. But I’d still save some of that skin for cleaning up.” His eyes dance over me. “You’re completely filthy.”

“Oh,” I say, looking at my hands. My palms are clean where I’d been holding the shield and rubbing the grit from my skin, but my sleeves—and armor, shirt, and everything else, probably—is covered in blood, long since dusted over with a fine layer of dirt, and now cracked apart like a dry creek bed. I rub a thumb over the back of my forearm, and some of it comes away, but it will definitely take a lot of scrubbing.

“Come on,” Quell says. “Next stop, new clothes.”

“It would be great to not have everyone thinking I’m the enemy anymore,” I admit. Plus, I can’t get out of these grimy, blood-caked clothes soon enough. Now that my attention’s been brought back to it, memories from the Bloodlust return and sit heavy in my gut. This is someone else’s blood. Blood from a person I killed. My skin feels like it’s crawling with ants. I want this off of me as soon as possible.

Quell takes us to more star drakes which are carrying some extra armaments and clothes. He hesitates before the attire, which is when our guards step in. Answering a couple questions about my build, I’m soon handed a set of clothes. The base is made of loose, flowing cloth, but I’m also given some leather greaves, bracers, a binder, and a chest plate. After that I’m pointed to an unoccupied tent, and Quell tells me he’ll be nearby if I need him. Mercifully, the guards don’t follow me in.

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Inside the tent, I drop everything to the ground and stand there for a moment, staring at nothing. I’ve only been here for hours, but it feels like days. Earth seems surreal and distant. The ocean, just a nightmare. And now…

I’m no longer human. I try to let that sink in. I feel… I don’t know. Fine, I guess? It’s weird to feel fangs in my mouth, sharp nails on my hands, pointed ears on my head. It’ll take some time to get used to some of these changes. But other changes, my lower voice, feeling stronger and more muscular—I don’t mind those sorts of changes one bit.

I begin to strip the stained, tattered clothes I was reborn in. Because that’s what happened, right? I was really reborn? I drowned in that ocean.

I died.

I’d managed to stuff down the feelings before, when I was being scrutinized by others. But now, here, alone… it all bubbles out of me before I can stop it.

I can still feel the burning cold of water filling my lungs. The horrific spasms of trying to dispel it. I pull in a sudden breath, as if to remind myself that I’m still here, that there’s still air around me. The memories make me grimace, but all I can think about is if Álvaro experienced the same thing.

What kind of older sibling am I? He needed me—he believed I would save him—and I failed him. Images of Mamá and Papá flit through my head. I imagine them finding our room empty, realizing we snuck out to go to the beach. I imagine their faces when they realize we’re not coming back. Tears threaten to well up in my eyes.

I pull in a shuddering breath and furiously scrub at my eyes. No, I can’t fall apart now. I might have failed Álvaro on Earth, but I’ve been given a second chance to find him here. A second life. I won’t let it go to waste.

Before changing into the new clothes, I sit on the ground with a coarse piece of cloth and my half-empty waterskin. There’s a stark contrast on my skin where my clothes had stopped. My arms especially are still covered in dried blood, and the only reason my hands and face aren't is due to the cloth Quell had given me when I first came out of the Bloodlust. Still, the rest of me is grimy from sweat and dust, so I start there, trying to stretch the cleanliness of my rag as far as possible, before moving to my head. The rag comes away red. I scrub my hair and skin until it feels like it’s all about to scrape off.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but when I leave the tent, old clothes in hand, a sliver of the sun is peeking over the horizon. The sky is streaked with brilliant lines of yellow and orange clouds, contrasting brilliantly against the purple-blue of the receding night. Already I can feel the heat of the sun prickling my skin.

“There you are!” Quell says, standing up from where he’d apparently been reclining against another tent. Dozing off, maybe? He stops. “Wow. You look good. I mean—clean. Like a whole different person.”

I snort, raising an eyebrow. “I am a whole different person.”

“Ah, right,” Quell says. “I suppose that’s technically accurate. But now you look significantly less terrifying. I can almost believe you really are a Knight.”

Maybe I look the part, but it feels strange to claim a title I’ve had no training for. I lift my arms, gesturing to the pile of old clothes and armor I’m carrying. “Where should I put these?”

One of the guards steps in to take them even before I’ve finished my sentence. “Oh. Thanks.”

“You didn’t put the armor on,” Quell notes as I hand over the old clothes.

I shrug. “Didn’t see much point, since we’re about to go to sleep.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “But starting tomorrow you should at least keep the bracers and greaves on—never know when you might get ambushed and wish you had your armor with you.”

“Does that really happen?” I ask.

He hesitates. “That’s what they say. Better safe than sorry, right?”

I’m not sure he’s the type to be handing out that adage. But I strap on the bracers as Quell leads us to a final tent. The armor only has a single clasp, and when I cinch it, a glowing symbol lights up on the leather, then the piece guard shifts to fit snuggly around my arm. Neat.

“Here we are,” Quell says, ducking into a smaller but lavish tent. There’s more pillows and a few light blankets spread across the bottom for padding—probably too hot to sleep under one. The tent is small enough that we both have to duck our heads to keep from pressing against the canvas.

“Where will you be sleeping?” I ask, sitting down to strap the greaves on as well. Despite Quell’s suggestion, I leave the binder and chest plate off. Can’t imagine I’d be able to get to bed in stiff leather wrapping around my torso, no matter how magically fitting it might be.

“Um, here,” he says, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I figured, given your situation and all, it would be best to keep close. Otherwise, there’s the communal soldiers’ tent on the other side of camp…”

I stare up at him. “You want me to sleep with you?”

“Erm.” He glances away, flustered. “Well, no, I meant—you could sleep near me. Not with me. I mean, in a general proximity sense—”

Heat threatens to crawl up the back of my neck, and I decide to nip this in the bud. “I’m not sleeping in your tent.”

“Oh.” He recovers, looking at me with a faint frown. “Why is that? I figured, given your circumstances, it would be the most convenient—”

“First off, I don’t even know you,” I interrupt before he can continue rambling. “Second, I doubt the guards, or Darian, or your brother would be thrilled by the idea of a practical stranger who showed up in the enemy’s clothes sharing the same room with you. And third… Okay there is no third. I just don’t want to.”

I stand back up as Quell blinks up at me, wide-eyed and insanely naive.

“Good night,” I say, grabbing my things. “Or, morning. Or whatever it is. I’ll find you tomorrow.”

I hurriedly duck back out, where sure enough the guards are still waiting. I gesture for them to lead the way. “Wherever I can get some sleep.”

Instead of taking me to the communal soldiers’ tent, however, they lead me to a more secluded part of camp and give me my own, small, private tent. Nearby, I can hear a familiar voice professing her innocence—Ambassador Ashla, I think. Looks like I’m sleeping on the “maybe an enemy” side of camp.

I’m too tired to care. I crawl into my one-person tent and lay down. With the flap closed, it’s surprisingly dark. But I can’t imagine I’m going to get much sleep with the events of the previous night spiraling through my head. The demigod. The Bloodlust. The cursed shield, and all the fighting, and Álvaro…

I guess I was more exhausted than I thought, because I’m out within minutes.