"... but the Lord laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming." - Psalms 37:13

Acelin stood outside of the farmhouse, feeling the warm, humid breeze wash over his face.

This was simpler than anything he had done before.

He had set the house ablaze already barring the door through the outside. He could hear their thumps against the walls. He sat on a stump log outside, folded hands, still watching the house. The weak wood roof bearings would only hold on for so long.

He listened closely, drowning out the sound of their cries, and heard something strange, there was only a pair in there, not the three he was hoping for.

Acelin heard the grass crunch behind him.

It was a boy. His eyes grew wide, his pupils were all engulfed except for the black silhouette of Acelin, whose gilded daggers had been drawn.

The boy only had a small sack in his hand, to which he held at his side.

Acelin had hoped he was in the house. The ceiling beams behind them gave way, collapsing in on itself, causing the screams to reach a crescendo and then silence.

"Save them, please." The boy said, offering the bag to Acelin. Tears had begun streaming down his cheeks.

"Run. Now. Forget who you are and never look back." Acelin replied, his eyes widening.

The boy tried to run past him towards the house, startling him.

"Did you not hear me boy!? Go!" Acelin bellowed, getting saliva on his face. He dragged him to his feet.

"But-"

"Go! I won't tell you again!" Acelin roared, throwing the boy towards the tree line, he stumbled but broke into a sprint afterwards.

"Who are you?" The dark-haired boy asked.

"Hi." He responded.

"Can I sit there?" The dark-haired boy asked again, he saw him point to a spot near him, but not too close.

"Yes."

He looked back up at the night sky, the stars always looked better at this time of year, early spring was his favorite, the chill made the sky all the darker, and the stars seemed to grow when he was cold, becoming something more than when he was comfortable. The shingle roofing helped as well.

"It's dangerous to be out here." The dark-haired boy said.

"It's okay." He responded.

"Do you like the stars?"

"Yeah."

"My father thinks the stars are our ancestors, angels from our heaven." The dark-haired kid said. "By the way, I'm Henry."

He didn't reply. The wind began to grow fiercer.

"Why are you out here?" Henry asked.

"Because this is where I belong." He replied.

He could feel Henry look at him.

"Why not come inside with me?" Henry asked.

"I'm okay." He replied. He wiped the blood away from his bruised lip, wincing at the throbbing pain.

"Follow me back inside and we can get you some food, I can hear your stomach from over here." Henry said, holding out a hand to him.

He let Henry pull him up and the two slowly walked across the shingles, the wind whipping harder. Henry climbed back through the open window, waiting for him. He wasn't looking at him, he was just still staring at the sky, it was such a beautiful night after all, why let it go to waste? He closed his eyes and leaned forward.

He gagged hard as he opened his eyes again, the dark castle grounds laying directly in front of him. He turned to see behind him that Henry was barely hanging on to the scruff of his clothing, pulling him back towards him.

"Let me go." He told him.

"No!" Henry replied, grunting as he flung him back upright, pushing him through the castle window.

His face hit the cold stone floor. It flickered in the torch's light.

"Why would you do that!?" Henry exclaimed. Barring the window with his body.

"I didn't mean to do it! I didn't! Please, forgive me father!" He began to laugh, it all flooded back to him, his eyes burning.

He didn't know who picked him up at that moment, he didn't want to know, but he felt it, warmth. The ice melted off his shoulders, even now.

"It's okay now." Henry's voice soothed his sobs. "What's your name?"

"Acelin." He replied.

"It will be okay Acelin. I will stand for you."

The hall was warm with the smell of charred logs, autumn was upon them. Acelin glanced around the hall, it was colorless, grey stone, with accents of slick cut wood around him, what was stranger was that there was only a chair in front of him, not a great lords chair but a small, wooden one. He had been instructed by the guard to sit in the nicer seat.

The doors opened behind him, and a familiar face sat in front of him.

He had aged quite a bit since last, he had saw him in that room, he flinched as his back burned. His face was narrow and his chin broad, he still did not look the part of a king, as he wore the face of a young man still, but Acelin could see the age that had been forced into him, his eyes were deep and dark, his mouth was dry and chapped. He looked as if he had been through enough wars to last a life.

"Acelin."

"Henry." Acelin responded.

Henry paused, before grinning a bit, his lips stretched like leather.

"That was my name, it has not been worn in quite a while." He remarked.

The boy was placed in between both of them by the guards. He looked frantically back and forth between them, his mouth gagged, his hair shaved, and his forehead branded. Pain shot through Acelin.

"Do you still follow in Christ's path?" Henry asked.

"I didn't know this was a meeting of the faith, I didn't dress the part." Acelin replied.

"Forgive me, it's been many years."

"It has."

Acelin sat up in the chair more.

"Forgive me, I just never expected this from you. I'm searching for an answer, it's... fascinating." Henry said, eyes narrowing.

"There is no answer."

"Then what shall I tell the Lord with his ear pressed so nicely against our door!? Shall I question him next!?" Henry shouted, footsteps moving away from them.

"So, what is my penalty?"

"Oh, it's in my hands, unfortunately. But better than being in his."

"Then what is it?"

"Answer me these three questions truthfully, and I'll tell you." Henry moved forward in his chair, placing a book on the table.

"That sounds fair." Acelin couldn't see what the book specifically was.

"Swear on the Vulgate, swear as if you were being judged before our Father in heaven."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Is this one of your questions?"

"Do not play the fool with me! Do you know how much trouble you have been!? And you sit here and play jests with me!? Kneel! Now!" Henry belted, shooting up and out of his chair.

"Forgive me, your grace."

"Swear on it."

"I swear- on our Father's mercy."

"Thank you, you may rise."

"Thank you, your grace."

"You don't have to say that, just don't frolic. My mercy is fickle." Henry sat back down in his chair.

"I understand." Acelin responded.

"Why did you not kill this boy?"

"I don't-"

"Answer!"

"The boy had the money to pay the debt."

"Did you forget what you were hired for?"

"No... your-"

"Henry, you may call me Henry as you did."

"Henry. I did not."

"How many have you killed?"

"Is this a question?"

"Yes, old friend, it is."

"I can't count."

"A shame."

"There's been countless." Acelin sighed.

"Then why did you spare one boy, after taking so much?"

"I don't know." Acelin replied.

"Have you killed children before?"

"Yes."

"Then why?"

"There is no reason to tell you Henry."

"Then what am I to tell the world of Acelin, the mortal's shadow!?"

"Anything you want, you are it's voice."

"Then finish it, now. Kill him. He stands before us, finish it. Clear your name."

"I cannot."

"Why!? Are you incapable!?" Henry asked, his face beginning to grow red.

"..."

"Then you will owe it to me." Henry uttered.

The boy collapsed to the floor, his warm blood seeping across the cold stone.

"Your grace?" Acelin asked, pushing his lips together.

"Death pays for life. Father, forgive me, for I have split your blood." Henry responded, dropping the knife on the table in front of Acelin, pointing it towards him.

Acelin regained his stance in silence, closing his eyes.

"When I stood in that court that day and saved that peasant boy from execution, I never expected to see him again. It felt good to save your life. But my father, he never saw it the same. He saw you as a- " Henry stopped himself,pointing to him. "You will go where I say, do what I order, until your debt is paid. In full."

Acelin opened his eyes again to the boy's sprawled corpse, it was a strange position, he had one arm outstretched towards him, but the other was clawing towards him.

Acelin bobbed up and down on the horse as they crossed the small, shabby rocky bridge. It had been three days, no sign of where the King had sent him towards.

"Another farm," is all he was told, "Eastern Wales we believe. The farmer's name is Flaus."

He could tell even he didn't even know where it was, needing him to wander until he did. For days upon days, that's what he did, wandering the countryside, chatting it up with every farmer he could come across, no Flaus. He went into Taverns, into Markets, No Flaus. Out of desperation, he asked a farmer at one of the markets.

"Ydych chi'n gwybod am ffermwr o'r enw Flaus?" He wished he knew more Welsh to not come off as an Englishman.

"East, a half day's ride, in the forest." The farmer replied.

Acelin threw him a silver.

He passed through the forest, the early autumn winds whistled through the trees as he rode along the rocky, unbeaten path. Eventually, the path turned south, he continued off the path, the horse struggling to keep its feet balanced on the twisted and winding pass. The sun had passed over his horizon once again, but he would push into the night.

After a while, his eyelids begin to flutter, swaying in and out of the night sky, the stars fading in and out. His hands tightened the reins as he pushed the horse harder, he felt it rush through his hands like fire. The horse obeyed him, galloping through the branches and bush thorns, but no pain blinded them, not like the blackness that lay around them.

Acelin could feel the horses' heart, its breath shooting out as if it was his own.

Bloody, broken eyes, pupils split like a yoke, a jaw shattered, nose bruised. A pained scream.

Acelin's eyes jumped back open as he yanked the horses' reins back in shock, seeing it stand before him, its twisted figure, it had come for him. The horse reared its body up, losing its trust and kicking Acelin off to the ground where he hit his head with a crack against the dirt.

Coughing and spitting up blood, he looked up.

"Y-u wo-nt furge-t, su-n- uv- a whor-e." The figure gargled out, it held a light up to its face, Acelin could see the boy that remained. He was lifted from the dirt.

"-On dead. I bet my morning slice."

"He's not dead."

"What does dead mean?"

"Nothin' Amis, go wake your mom."

Acelins' head was spinning as he opened his eyes, to the blur of a pale figure, who was touching his hand. Acelin squeezed his eyes open and shut, trying to see clearer, and after a moment he did, it was a pale, thin boy, with pale-blonde hair and green eyes.

"Look what you did, you woke him up runt!" Another boy's voice said to the left of him.

"I don't want your slice Amiles, you can have it." The pale boy replied.

"Stop your pity, you won." He heard a wooden screech next to him, and then a door shutting.

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"How are you feeling, sir?" The boy asked him, he presumed.

"Fine." Acelin grunted, clearing his dry throat.

"We found you before you leaked out too much, a lot came out of your head."

"I did?" Acelin replied, rubbing his fingers over the hard bandage that was on his head.

"Yeah, old clothes worked well enough." The boy said.

Acelin heard more mumurs outside and then the door on the other side of him opened, a stocky, balding brown-haired man walked in, looking back between Acelin and the boy.

"I will take it from here." The man said, to which the boy complied, exiting out through the door. The man pulled the chair over to him and sat at the edge of where Acelin was laying.

"Ydych chi'n siarad?"

"Ie. But I prefer English, if you don't mind." Acelin asked, wincing against his pulsing head.

"What's your dealing?" The man asked.

"I have none." Acelin replied.

"Then why ride down the forest pass like a maniac?"

"I got lost."

"Where was your heading?"

"No place."

"Why?

"Because I have no place." Acelin responded.

The man paused for a minute, sighed, and then looked back at him.

"I-"

"He's alive!?" A blonde woman came busting through the door, along with a young, golden-blonde haired child, who held her hand tightly.

"I've got this." The man said.

The woman, ignoring the man, rushed over to Acelin's bed side, looking him in the eye's up close, Acelin looked back and forth between her and the man, who sat deeper in the chair.

"He sent him, Flaus, I'm telling you, this is another one, I know I'm right." The woman said, standing up and looking back at the man.

This is it. I've made it, but I’m going to die.

"And what if he isn't Amilia? I can't have the kid's seeing it happen again." Flaus replied.

"You would risk everything? For what?" Amilia asked.

"We'll talk about this later, now go." Flaus ordered, his voice rising.

The blonde woman looked back at Acelin in disgust before turning and dragging the little boy with her, who stared at him and before passing through the doorway waved at Acelin.

"Forgive my wife, she... It's been a tough season; thieves and brigands have sought us out before." Flaus said, ringing his knuckles out.

"And how do you know I'm not a thief or brigand?" Acelin asked.

"I don't, I don't trust you or why you ended up here, but I trust the exchange of good will."

"Why?" Acelin asked again.

"Isn't a soul out there that ain't worth trying to save."

Acelin looked around the small cottage, it was strong and well built, but new, just broken into.

So, I am not the first then. Others have tried.

"Then what will be made of me?"

"Nothing, you may rest."

Acelin rested for what seemed like three days, watching the family cycle in and out of the house, phasing in and out. On the fourth day, he was able to fully stand, walking towards the door.

He opened the dark wooden door open to the blinding rays of sunlight that lit up his shielded vision, feeling the cool autumn dew sink in between his toes. Acelin breathed in the smoky day air, stretching as if he were a child, something was different.

Once he was able to see, he viewed the barren field that was their farm. They had half cleared out a part for whatever they were growing, as he saw Flaus with one of the boys, a smaller but similarly built one, groaning and splitting up a rooted tree in the ground with an ox on the other side being guided by the platinum haired boy.

He walked over to them, still only dressed in a robe.

The small, stock boy had short, spiky black hair, with the sprouts of a dirt beard. Acelin reached back, feeling the scars, feeling their hard, rough surface, he looked back at the others, who now stood puzzled looking at him.

"Something wrong?" Flaus asked.

"Course not." Acelin replied.

"Is there something you want?" The boy with the dirt beard asked.

"Can I offer some relief?" Acelin asked.

The two boys looked to Flaus, who after a moment nodded.

He grabbed along the bottom of the wooden spike, waiting for the go ahead from the other two who sat just above him.

"Pull!"

Within the day they had rooted out ten stumps, the last three of which Acelin did himself when the others went to take a break. He could finally feel the sweat drip down his face again. But he didn't feel tired, all he felt was his back, he felt them again, something he had not felt for a long time. It was worth it to Acelin. He sat down, admiring his work for the first time in his life, there were no lashes here.

"Have you done this before?" The platinum haired boy asked, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah, a very long time ago."

"You must've been good, I've never seen anyone root them like you do, you shocked Flaus by even walking in a straight line." The boy responded.

Acelin looked at him with a confused look.

"Is Flaus not your father?" He asked.

The boy met his gaze, only returning a blank stare before pulling himself to his feet again.

"He asked for you to sit at our table tonight, if you want." The boy said.

"Can I ask what your name is, boy?"

"It doesn't matter." The boy responded with a toothless smile.

"Then let's eat." Acelin said, hopping to his feet, trying to restore the mood.

He followed the boy back as the sun brimmed red over the horizon of the hills to his right, he massaged his aching wound on his head.

"So, the first thing my father and I have been dying to know, where are you from, Englishman?" The stubble bearded boy asked.

Acelin sat at one end of the table, with Flaus at the other. To his left sat the platinum haired boy and the younger blonde boy, who name must've been Amis from before. To his right closest to him sat the stubble bearded boy, and to his right was the golden-haired woman, Amilia?

Between them sat a massive bowl of grain stew, no meat, but the onions and carrots were good enough for him, Acelin dipped his fresh bed into the motley, tasting some thyme when it reached his mouth.

Someone knows how to cook well here.

"I'd like to say this is a delicious stew, made by a good family, if you would I could lead a prayer before we eat, or?" Acelin said.

The table sat in silence as the family eyed one another.

"That's okay, we just.... What's your name, we just don't want to keep referring to you as that brown haired vagabond." Flaus said, fidgeting with his hands.

"Acelin." He responded, chuckling a little before realizing had actually said his real name.

"Where are you from Acelin?" Flaus asked again, taking a bit of the stew.

"Not from anywhere. My dad was a traveling knight, so home was where I was sleeping at night." Acelin responded, confused at the words coming out of his mouth.

"So you're a knight?" The smaller blonde boy asked, his eyes widening.

Acelin bit the inside of his lip.

"No, I'm not." Acelin responded.

Silence returned back to the table as they ate, not uttering another word until the food had been cleaned out of their bowls, and they sat back.

"May I be excused?" The platinum haired boy asked. Flaus shot him a look, but Amilia gave him a slight nod. He left without saying a word.

"Momma, can we go too?" The blonde boy asked, coming around the table to ask her, she nodded as well, picking him up and leaving the room.

Acelin sat with the stubble haired boy and Flaus in silence.

"Can I ask what your name is son?"

"Amiles." He responded.

"You look strong Amiles, do you fight?" Acelin asked.

"Actually-"

"He's a farmer, no fighter, I assure you." Flaus responded, shooting a look to the boy, who scowled in response.

"I can fight though; I've learned a lot, especially from grandfather's writings." Amiles responded.

"You can barely read Amiles." Flaus said.

"So? There are pictures too!" The boy responded, growing redder in the face.

"You are excused son." Flaus said.

The boy flew out of his chair, carefully pushing it in before storming off, muttering something under his breath. Flaus watched him off.

"And now there are two." Flaus said with a chuckle, throwing back a drink into his mouth. "I apologize if I drew any offense with you saying a prayer."

"No, it's quite alright." Acelin responded, clearing his throat.

"You know, we could use a steady farmhand like you here, you know? It would definitely help my wife and our kids. I saw you out there, you definitely have some sort of knack for this sort of thing, don't you?" Flaus asked.

Acelin sat back in his chair, looking at him in confusion. He itched the side of his face.

"I mean, I would need time to think it over, you and your family have been good to me, but there are other things-"

Flaus raised his hand up.

"Take the time you need; I thank you for the work you've done for us already." Flaus said.

…

"You don't believe in god, do you?"

Flaus looked almost startled by the question.

"No, I do not." He answered solemnly.

…

"I feel... The world is too small for there to be a god here." Flaus said, looking at the table.

"It's okay, I'm rake no insult." Acelin responded. "I never believed much believed in him either."

"If I may, may I excuse myself?" Flaus asked, looking rather uncomfortable.

Acelin nodded. He turned back around, "I- I moved the mattress out of the house, there's a small shack on the other side of our cabin, I put it in there, I mean no offense."

"It's fine, thank you." Acelin responded, before picking himself up and carrying himself out the door.

The wind was harsher now that the sun had already fully set, the trees to his left cracked in the breeze. He was able to make out the cabin in the dark night, stumbling the door open.

Inside sat his bare, straw mattress to the side, with an altar with candles that lit up the room, with a book half open on it.

He looked around before standing before the shabby, wooden altar. The book itself was in rough shape, its pages were old, and it was in Latin, which he thoughtlessly stared at. He flipped the cover over to see "Biblia Sacra" on the front.

Somebody was just reading this; these candles are fresh.

He saw no one in the room however, beginning to dismiss the thought even though it stuck to the back of his head.

He shut the book softly, coughing as he shot dust in his face, before blowing out the candles and settling down on the mattress again.

He closed his eyes, the screams were coming back to him, but he shut them out, drifting off into sleep.

Cheering. All was drowned out by the cheering.

"What did you say!!? Say it!!!" Acelin screamed into the merchant boy's broken face, his voice fading in and out.

He held his fist up, its knuckles purple and swollen, oozing both blood and puss as it pulsated.

The boy did not answer, his eyelids bleeding, nose bruised and bent wrongly, his jaw twisted and broken, but those eyes, they faded first, into grey pools of lifeless mass.

Everyone moved around him.

I couldn't have done this. I'm not like this. Please, please no.

He dropped his fist, instead hugging the boy's cold body as he shivered.

They must have drowned from the cheering. There was no more.

Acelin shot up, exhaling softly as he tried to calm his quickening breath. He heard a thud from the house but was frozen. He could not move, at least yet.

Footsteps approached the shack, Acelin heard it, even with the wind. He stood, his knee buckling a little before he was able to stand. He reached for his daggers, they weren't there. He looked frantically around but saw nothing, instead grabbing a candle holder, it was too late.

The door opened, and in walked the figure of the boy, his arms held outwards as he walked towards him, on further inspection it was the platinum haired boy, he was panting and his eyes flickered open and shut. He looked at Acelin with a mute gaze.

The boy dropped his daggers, running towards Acelin, and hugged him. There was blood matted in his hair, Acelin held onto the candle holder, still wary, before the boy reached up and touched his temple.

Bloody bodies hanging from trees, fire, a huge fire of burning corpses, he could smell the rot. The burning of a city in the shape of a cross. An old King in a huge hall, marble cracking, blood-stained grass, the ocean crashing ashore withbodies full of holes as far as the eye could see, loud, giant, lifeless birds shooting across the sky overhead. Books, Flaus' farm, and something other than anything he had ever seen, a great ball of fire erupting over the horizon, climbing into the clouds, igniting all things in inflamed passion, blowing it to nothing, including Acelin.

Acelin fell backward, panting as he looked at the boy in confusion.

"Finally. I don't have to bear it anymore." The boy said. He wiped the daggers off on Acelin's mattress, tossing them to him. "You must come with me."

"What was that shit?" Acelin asked, choking on his words.

"It will be if we do not act now." The boy responded, shoving the daggers into his sheaths and throwing them to him.

Acelin and the boy stepped outside to see the crackling fire spread around the house.

"Now, quickly you need to go save Amis, he's under the bed in there, go!!" The boy yelled, before Acelin turned back to the house, running and bursting through the door.

The whole innards of the house had been engulfed in flames, he heard the crying of Amis first, busting through the door again to find Amilia, her throat slit on the bed, her arms crossed together with her eyes closed.

Acelin looked under the bed to find a red eyed, sniffling Amis, pulling him out and shielding him from the heat that had begun to engulf the room.

"I got you, it's okay." He whispered to the boy, whose hands had gripped deep into him.

As he got back into the main room, he turned to see something crawling towards him, it was Flaus. His face was dripping blood as he crawled, leaving a blood trail behind him, he panted as he saw Acelin, turning over to reveal several bleeding points on his body. He pointed to a spot behind Acelin, as when Acelin turned, he saw it, it was his cloak, hanging on the chair.

"Save-"

Acelin turned back around to find that a flaming beam had collapsed onto Flaus, splitting his face open. Acelin shielded Amis as to not see, crashing out of the house with him in his arms. The boy was just kneeling, not paying attention to Acelin, but to the house itself.

"Where is Amiles?" Acelin asked the boy. Who turned to him.

"In the forest." He responded. "We must go."

"What happened?"

The boy turned to him.

"We must go, bad men will come soon and find this."

“What the hell are you talking about?" Acelin yelled at the boy who had begun to walk away.

"We must go." The boy repeated.

"To where?"

The boy did not answer him.

Acelin eventually followed after the boy.

When he caught up to him, they were already in the forest, the boy took off in a sprint, which Acelin followed suit, Amis shivered as he pressed against Acelin more.

They found Amiles in a clearing, wooden sparring sword in hand, a torn up makeshift straw soldier in front of him.

"Amiles! They found us!" The boy cried, Amiles snapped towards them, embracing the blood-soaked boy as he stared at Acelin. He looked between him and Amis.

"He called them, it was him! Wasn't it!? I knew father was a fool." He growled, pressing closer to Acelin.

"He did nothing wrong! He fought them off when they tried to take Amis!" The boy yelled.

"Then I'll go back. I've got to get father." Amiles said, looking around the group, which sat in silence.

He covered his mouth, grunting as with each breath, it grew.

"What... What? Both?" He panted now. There was no response.

Amiles fell to his knees.

"Fuck! No! No! No No!" He pummeled the ground, collasping after a few strikes, Acelin could only hear his pants.

By this time Amis had heard enough, he began to weep again too in Acelin's arms. Amiles looked up.

"I don't see no blood on him." Amiles replied, his fists tightening.

The boy ran around him, pulling out one of Acelin's daggers from its sheath, showing it to Amiles, it still had smeared blood on it.

"I hate you." Amiles growled, looking Acelin dead in the eyes. Amiles eyes fell onto Amis, who was gripping onto him in his sobs, and then his eyes fell to the ground, he got up, turning away from them.

"Where are we going?" Amiles asked.

"Remember the old caves? That's where father said we would be safe." The kid said.

"Of course I remember. Why do you act like he cared about you? He didn't, he wasn't yours." Amiles growled back, before disappearing into the bushes. Acelin followed him.

Acelin turned to see the boy standing, almost paralyzed. He met Acelin's gaze and followed along.

They finally came to a cave about a couple miles away, closer to the mountains, that had been in the backdrop of the farm.

Acelin set Amis down, who was now asleep, Amiles rested the jacket over his younger brother, while looking at Acelin with a narrowed gaze. Acelin turned, stepping out to into the mouth of the cave, sitting down.

The dawn was rising over the horizon, its orange glimmer reflected off the jagged, stone floor.

The boy sat next to him; his hair still knotted with blood.

"What now?" Acelin asked.

The boy grew silent, before touching Acelin's temple again.

Acelin stared at him for a moment, blankly, with a frown.

"I don't care-"

What is it you want?

Nothing. I want to be returned back to that cave.

Why?

Because I don't like this.

Are you afraid, Acelin?

No. I'm not.

You sound afraid.

Uhuh, sure.

You're afraid that like I am.

Like you are?

That there is no end. That you carry weight as a stone would, sinking to the bottom of a stream.

He saw a valley and the sunrise, he was up on the castle roof again, this time there was no strong wind, just the fresh morning breeze that rippled against his face.

Acelin faded back to the cave. He shook his head, sighing.

"Mother." The boy whispered, his eyes opening wide as he exhaled heavily. Acelin saw the boy's face again, cracked among the stones now, he looked back at the boy next to him, his face had collapsed into his arms.

"I deserve to die; all I can see is her. Henry said finally, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Deserving to die." Acelin replied, chuckling.

"I do, I cause so much pain. I'm afraid of what I’ll become." The boy muttered.

"What is your name?"

"Henry."

"I've killed people too, Henry. So have too many other people. I can't say those people deserve to die, no matter what horrid shit they did." Acelin replied.

"I don't know how I can go on knowing I hurt people." Henry replied,

"My father used to say if you’re not hurting, you’re dead." Acelin said, chuckling. "I don’t think it matters, hurting or killing."

"Why?" Henry replied.

“Most people lead sad, meaningless, broken lives. To them, nothing more unfair down here than life, who or where or what title you’re born into. They may latch onto things like honor, love, family, work to try to make it better, but it's all just a loud distraction. Death is the only thing that is truly fair, that evens it out and truly balances, holding us to the same standard as we were created, that at any point, for any reason, your treasured life could be taken away for nothing.”

They sat there in the echoing sounds of the morning for what felt like an eternity.

"You’re saying it doesn’t matter. Only the end result.” Henry finally replied, his voice cracking a little.

“Exactly.”

Acelin turned to the boy, whose eyeline had risen above his arms, cold tears streaming down his face as he looked out at the rising sun. He embraced him, holding him closer than anyone before.

"We all deserve to die. We all deserve absolution. We all deserve salvation.” He whispered to the boy.