Once again, Dorothea didn’t have proper words to describe the things she’d witnessed. The human body, once torn apart, was so small. A person’s life was small and delicate.

Her allies were dead around her, their bodies shredded apart by ice and wind. In most redos, they were all killed by him. Bittersweet Nightshade… There was just no stopping a magic that killed with the slightest touch, not with his allies giving him so many openings and so much mobility. How many times had she reversed the events trying to make a different outcome by now? Ten, fifteen? No, more.

“We really can’t kill her?” Wesley asked, bending over Dorothea with a smirk as she knelt on the stones of the fort wall, immobile with fear.

“You may not,” the Bittersweet Nightshade-user replied flatly.

“She’s the biggest threat to us right now,” the tall woman, Johanna, reasoned. She sighed as he looked at her, lifting her hands in surrender. Just a look with those dark eyes, deep and black and empty in his expressionless face, was enough to freeze hearts. But Johanna only shrugged, collecting the needles she had pierced Iree, Rhys and Cerid with to help kill them. “Well, as long as your orders don’t put Pearlie in danger, I have no problem.”

“You’re such a good wifey,” Wesley cackled.

Dorothea’s heart was beating so hard, resounding in her skull, that she could barely make out their words. What else did she need to do? What variable was she missing? The amount of small changes she could try to make had her head spinning.

But it all came down to one obvious thing: Rhys wasn't willing to fight. He always assisted Iree and Cerid from the back but never went for the kill despite being the one most suited for it.

Petrified, Dorothea could only watch as the Bittersweet Nightshade-user crouched in front of her. She could barely breathe, much less decide what to do next. Her hands came together, but her body was ahead of her stalled mind and weak will.

He spoke quietly. “I won’t hurt you. Will you listen to what I have to say?” He took a breath. “My name is Gren Fall. The event you Sacerians call the epidemic originated with me.”

“You…?” For there to be a survivor of that line at all was an atrocity, but for that same person to be the one who had killed so many in the first place? It was twisted, beyond twisted. The person who had driven her mother to her death was right in front of her!

A dark, poisonous and devouring anger she’d never felt so deeply took hold of her in an instant, and she slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

“Why should I listen to someone like you, who’s taken so much from me!” He was the shadow of death itself. “You shouldn’t even exist,” she hissed.

His expression didn’t change; his face had barely turned in response to her blow. “I won’t deny responsibility. However, what I came to say is this.” He leaned closer, capturing her gaze. “We did not destroy your home. Ghuria had no involvement in that incident.”

“How can I believe that after today? If I hadn’t stopped you, the whole fort would be destroyed!”

“Would I have been able to get anyone’s attention using other means? You wanted me to send a letter requesting an audience over tea, perhaps? Sacerians tend to kill first and ask questions later. If we want to survive, we have to do the same.”

Would time even be able to stop this monster? “Why am I alive?” she whispered. Her body should have been going cold next to the others by now.

“Please. Just consider what I’ve said. If you tell me you’re willing to do that, then we’ll walk away.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand, I don’t, I…”

“You don’t understand what?” His tone not once changing somehow made his words more fearsome.

She was sinking. Those shadowy eyes were drowning her. “How… How can you do these terrible things and still say you’ll take responsibility for your actions? That doesn’t change the fact that you did something terrible! Just because you know it’s wrong but do it anyway? That’s just feeling sorry for yourself!”

“Are you any different?”

Dorothea froze, forgetting to breathe for a few moments. What? Was he comparing her to him? He, who had killed so many, was trying to turn her words against her?

As he shifted, long black bangs slipped across his face and made shadows dance through his eyes. “As long as they believe their cause is just, people can excuse any level of hurt they choose to place on someone else. Even if their victims express their pain and beg for mercy, it doesn’t matter. Do you know why?”

“No…” Her response was dragged out of her, compelled by the force of his presence.

“It’s because the perpetrators have already decided that their cause removes the rights of those they intend to make victims of. No matter what justice you choose to dress your actions in, this much stands.”

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t react or retort through her terror and confusion.

“That’s why we’ve taken these measures,” he continued. “Expressing our pain does nothing. Offering mercy isn’t an option in the minds of the people set on destroying us. If we can’t rise above the way of the world, we sink into it. That’s the only way we have to protect what little we have left.” He leaned closer still, and she caught the citrusy odor of pine mixing with the sharpness of blood that stained him.

“No…!” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to escape in what useless ways she could. But the loss of her sight only made his words ring in her ears more harshly, let them wrap around her to bind.

“Those thoughts have occurred to you, right? My home and family were taken, so it’s only right that I do this. I know innocent people will get caught in the crossfire, but this is for the greater good. If I can protect what’s important to me, it's just. Thoughts like that mean you’re just pretending to be a martyr and hiding behind excuses. Your only justice is self-pity.”

Self-defensive anger bubbled up weakly in her, but what was there to say? He’d taken the words straight from her mind and heart. This whole time she’d been concerned with her own plight. Sacer’s too, but in the midst of all that she hadn’t bothered to consider the humanity of those she’d chosen to call her enemy. Even if it had crossed her mind, she’d comforted herself by finding ways to dismiss it.

“Are you afraid of seeing us as human?” Gren Fall asked. “Are you afraid of what that will do to the version of reality you’ve become comfortable enough to accept and what you’ll have to face as a result?”

“I’m not…!”

“Then show me.” His hand wrapped around hers, and she let out a small, animal noise of fear. He turned her palm up and placed a bloody knife in her hand, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. “Don’t stop at slapping me. If you believe so strongly in what you’ve decided, then slit my throat or drive this knife into my heart. Commit to your justice.” He closed his eyes, body relaxing as he gave himself over to her will.

“Wait a minute, Gren!” Wesley protested, but Gren shook his head, staving his allies off as he waited for Dorothea’s answer.

“I can’t!” Dorothea dropped the knife as if it burned her skin and hugged herself as tears fell from her eyes once more. Her world had been a childish one. The ability to ignore the harshness of the world was a privilege, and only an ignorant child didn’t realize that. That hadn’t changed; she hadn’t changed at all.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Gren straightened and trapped her in his clear, steady gaze again. “There are those whose convictions really do let them make any excuses they have to in order to get what they want while maintaining their peace of mind. It lets them create a justice for themselves that’s willing to destroy whatever gets in the way, no matter who or what it is. You don’t have those kinds of convictions.” He paused. “And I’m glad to see that.”

His eyes were a dark, liquid brown, not black, Dorothea realized with a jolt. Why had she thought they were black? Had her vision really been that clouded? “I still don’t understand,” she said, dazed. “If all that’s true about me, then why let me live?”

“Even someone like me wants to avoid killing now and then.”

Dorothea almost laughed at how surreal the situation was. Yes, people were strange. They could change so quickly, moving towards violence and then away from it, forgetting humanity and justice or twisting it all for their own means. She had been foolish and weak to fall into the trap of her own emotions so easily.

Someone like him, she’d said. But she had no idea who he really was, did she? She didn’t understand any of them. She knew absolutely nothing despite committing herself to war.

“Okay,” she said, voice barely there. Without fear and anger to keep herself going, she’d completely lost traction. Even if she wanted to stand, she wouldn’t be able to.

“Okay what?”

“I’ll consider what you said.”

He nodded and stood, gesturing to his companions to signal their impending exit.

“Gren.” Johanna stopped him as he turned away. “This is still a victory, and circumstances still are what they are. We can’t leave empty handed.”

He paused before nodding. “You’re right.” He turned back to Dorothea. “When you bring your allies back to life, tell them to vacate the entire fort and the nearby villages. No one else has to get hurt, but they need to leave with nothing but the clothes on their backs. If not…”

Wesley grinned. “Then pretty morals be damned, we’ll do what we have to.”

Dorothea swallowed hard. “Okay.”

She watched the Ghurians leave before crawling to Rhys, then Cerid, then Iree. They returned to life with huge gulps of air after her magic sewed their bodies back together from the inside out.

“You are safe,” Cerid breathed with relief, letting her lean on him so she could stand. “Thank the Gods. But if I may ask…” He and Iree shared a glance before the commander turned a glare on her captain.

Rhys didn’t look back at her. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

There were some things that wouldn't be smart for her to explain, Dorothea knew. “I talked them down,” she lied. More like she’d been the one torn apart by Gren’s words. “Once they understood that the fight would never end as long as I was going to use my magic, they had no choice but to leave.”

“You did well.” Cerid spoke gently but with regret. “I am sorry we failed to protect you.”

“No, I’m sorry…” If Gren Fall sincerely wanted her head, he’d have it by now. Seemed she wasn’t the failsafe solution Iree had fancied her to be. “That’s not all. They said they’ll come back and destroy it all if we don’t surrender the fort and surrounding villages. Nobody gets hurt if they leave everything they own behind.”

Iree’s hands went to her hips. “Guess there’s no choice. We got our asses kicked. Damn it all…”

Dorothea took a step towards her. “I don’t know what’s happening on Sharkie and Ariana’s end. Iree, can I go…” She spun around to look out over the wall when, as if summoned, the familiar voice reached her.

“Theaaa!” Shark was screeching while running at full speed, Ariana clinging to them while perched on their back.

“Sharkie!” She dashed to ground level, almost hurling herself down the stairs in the process. “You’re okay! But Ariana…” She laid her hand against the swordswoman’s arm to heal her after noticing her injury.

Once she was able to stand on her own, Ariana wrenched away from Shark. “Things went well on our end,” she said, addressing Iree, who had approached with Cerid and Rhys. “No casualties to the village, one on the enemy side.”

“Good. At least one thing went well today,” Iree sighed.

Dorothea swallowed past a lump in her throat. Gren Fall’s claims had some horrible implications. If the Ghurians hadn’t destroyed Sirpo, then Iree had lied. If she’d lied, then… For now, she had to stay calm.

“That’s it?” Shark was incredulous. “They didn’t like, explode the entire city while we were gone? Then what was the point of dividing their forces so unevenly?”

Ariana was frowning in thought. “Who knows?” She met Dorothea’s eyes for a moment before looking away and crossing her arms.

“Is that all that happened, Olyen?” Iree asked. “Nothing else out of the ordinary?”

“Yeah, we just killed…”

Ariana scowled under Shark’s pitying gaze. “It’s over now,” is all she said.

Iree looked sympathetic and opened her mouth to reply, but Dorothea spoke first. “Take me to her body, please.”

“Atlin?” Iree questioned her with a frown.

“I’m sorry, but reviving the dead on that side was also part of the terms of their surrender,” she lied. One of the Ghurians had probably already gone back to get their ally by now, and they wouldn’t like what they saw. She wanted to nip that trouble in the bud and show a sign of good faith.

“We’re really having to roll over and show our bellies here,” Iree muttered. “Let’s get started with the evacuation, everyone. Rhy—”

“I’ll go with Dorothea,” Rhys said. “We’ll take care of informing and gathering the villages in that direction.” He’d loosely taken Dorothea’s arm and pulled her away before anyone could protest.

How was he feeling right now? She couldn’t read him. “I’m sorry… For betraying the faith you all had placed in me.” The apology felt empty since her loyalties were now so confused.

“Don’t worry about that. None of this is your fault. Are you okay, though? You’re bleeding.”

Her nose had started bleeding a while ago, but she’d forgotten about it in the midst of everything else. “I’m fine.” She paused. Why hadn’t he ended the battle when he’d had the opportunity? “Rhys… Have you ever felt that sort of hesitation before? I-I mean, isn’t it normal for the weight of death to be so heavy? So if it hurts you… If you lose yourself in it, that’s understandable.”

“Our job isn’t to feel the weight, it’s to protect what needs protecting. If we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us. That’s all.” The way he said it was so rote.

“Then why are we still alive?” Dorothea asked.

“Dorothea.” Rhys jerked to a stop and turned to face her. “Don’t ever say words like this to anyone else. Treason is a very serious charge.”

“Treason?” she echoed, flabbergasted. “Does this conversation really warrant a term like that?”

He looked at her apologetically. “No. I don’t know. Listen. Today’s battle is just one in a long line. So many, too many, have died, and we have to keep going. That we’re all human doesn’t change a single thing.”

“But can’t it?” Dorothea said weakly.

He smiled like she was a naive child, but it was also a pained, wistful expression. “Come on.”

They arrived at the village, where people were peeking out from dark houses at the crushed corpse of the enemy. As Rhys stopped to explain what had to happen next, Dorothea approached the inert mass.

“Whoa!” she cried out when, upon being returned to life, the girl immediately put a knife to her throat. She’d had quite enough of knives for the day. “I-I have a message for Gren Fall…!” she squeaked, lifting her arms in surrender while Rhys’ footsteps sounded quickly from behind. “We’ve ended the day with a truce…!”

“Oh!” The girl leaped to her feet and skittered back a few steps. “Er…”

Feeling pretty much as lost as the girl looked, Dorothea said quickly, “Would you tell him something for me? Please?”

The girl eyed her warily. “What is it?”

“Please tell him that I’ll return his kindness as best I can.” She was sorry she didn’t have anything better to offer, but his words that day could just be manipulation. Just like how she had been so thoroughly manipulated by Iree and likely others if he was being honest. She needed to determine the truth and then see what, it might change.

“Very well.” The Ghurian looked over her shoulder, and Dorothea noticed a familiar willowy silhouette peeking out past the treeline. “Jojo…” She cut one last look at Dorothea and Rhys before running off to her companion.

“Dorothea…” Rhys crouched next to her and looked her in the eyes. “What was that?”

She smiled with a demented sense of giddiness, feeling like the world was falling apart around her. “I don’t know! But I’d like to think I can trust you not to tell Iree about it.” She didn’t have good reason besides Rhys’ hesitancy to kill and how nice he’d been to have him in her confidence, but even so. After the day’s events, she desperately wanted to believe in trust and transparency.

He hesitated before nodding. “You can.”

“Thank you.” She laughed, and he looked at her strangely. Yes, to be laughing after all this was probably crazy. “Sorry, I just… I’m too naive to make it in this world, I think. So, rather than be swayed by anyone else’s words, I think I have try to figure things out in my own stupidly naive way.”

His eyes widened, emotions she didn’t understand clashing there. “We…” His voice came out strained, and he cleared his throat. “We should get back to work.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know why, but the world seemed brighter now. Maybe it was best in the end to follow what trails of her conscience she could find in the madness. Could she protect the things she wanted without losing her heart? Could she find a better solution even if the danger to herself became greater in the process?

Is that what you thought back then? Mother?