Gren Fall had saved Wesley Lacaden’s life, and Wesley Lacaden had saved Gren Fall’s soul.

Gren was thirteen when he’d been made to lose his mind, lose control of his magic, and kill legions of innocent people. He’d gone straight into hiding after regaining his senses. People knew who he was and what he’d done; it was obvious what magic had spread through the land, and the last living member of that line had to be the person responsible. Every time he was spotted sneaking food, washing in a stream or sleeping in the woods, he had to travel quickly or risk being killed for vengeance.

“Like this.” He paused in his recounting to lift his bangs and show a scar, the pale blemish cutting partly into his hairline. “From a rock.”

Dorothea lifted her hand, hesitant, before tracing it with her thumb. “I’m sorry.”

Her touch was always so gentle and warm. “Don’t be. It’s a good thing.” If that girl hadn’t thrown that rock at him that day and cursed him for what he’d taken, he wouldn’t have followed her to apologize. If he hadn’t followed her, he wouldn’t have met Wesley.

Well, instead of met, it was more like tripped over. It was a dark, thunderous day, the rain falling in sheets so thick Gren could barely see in front of him. That was probably why the girl had felt safe enough to come after him in the first place. But as he gave chase, he suddenly tripped over something large and solid.

Once he’d dragged himself up, spat out mud and wiped it from his eyes, he realized that this something was a person, face-down and completely still.

He turned the body over, and it let out a weak cough. Gren flinched and leaped away, then crept back in as disoriented, broken murmurs floated towards him.

“Mom, keep walking… Dad… Get up… Help me…”

Gren picked up the stranger, grimacing at their lightness. Some people starved to death due to the strain Bittersweet Nightshade had caused; this person had fainted from hunger. There wasn’t enough to go around; all livestock had been consumed long ago, and there were few spare crops to go around. People were quick to hoard what they had to protect their own.

His latest camp was close enough to nearby villages to go scavenging but hidden so it wasn’t likely he’d be found if trouble came looking. Once nestled in the lean-to shelter he’d constructed from debris, he waited for the rain to stop before starting a sputtering fire.

After they stopped shivering and muttering, the stranger groaned into wakefulness. “Shit, I’m not dead…?” they muttered as they tried to sit up. They heaved a sigh when their eyes met Gren’s. “Great. What, you gonna fatten me up before you eat me?”

“No,” Gren said, finding his voice scratchy from disuse. This was the longest interaction he’d had in the past two years, so to say he was lost was putting it lightly. “Here.” He pushed over a relatively heaping portion of crickets he’d killed and roasted the day before. If there was one good thing about his magic, it was that it helped him catch food other people might not be able to take advantage of. “Protein.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” The food was gone in less than half a minute. “So.” The stranger burped and picked at their teeth. “I already know who you are. My name’s Wesley Lacaden.”

“Mm.” Gren paused, turning his back so it would be easier to talk without Wesley’s piercing orange gaze on him. “Moving in morning. You can stay ’til then. More food.”

“Thanks, but I’m afraid I can’t. On my way to answer the call of duty.” Wesley smirked as Gren looked over his shoulder in curiosity. “Didn’t you hear? Army’s taking just about anyone they can get, and I’m gonna make a whole lot of trouble for those Sacerian pigs before I kick the bucket.”

“Mm.”

“By the way, you know you’re bleeding, right?”

“Mm.”

“What happened?”

“Rock.”

“Lame. If you’re gonna have a scar, it should at least have a cool story.” Wesley frowned and waved a hand in front of Gren’s face. Confused, he passed him some more crickets, taking the opportunity to crunch down on one himself. “No, man. You’ve got the blankest face I’ve ever seen. Kinda creeping me out.”

Gren tilted his head, feigning confusion. Truth be told, he’d worked hard to stunt his emotions. If the people he had killed would never get the chance to laugh or cry or get angry again, why should he get to?

Wesley was sneering as if he could see right through this self-flagellating reasoning, and the oddest mixture of confusion and indignance welled up inside Gren. It felt kind of…good?

“Guilty, huh?” Wesley laughed derisively. “The dead don’t care about your guilt or lack thereof.” He struggled to his feet, shrugging Gren off when he moved to help. He did accept some rations that Gren hastily tied together with a torn portion of his tattered jacket. “I don’t want my life to have been saved by some emotionally-constipated loser. That doesn’t make for a good story either.” His smirk flashed into a genuine smile, just for a second. “Just go for it. You’re only human, after all. People like us, we gotta spit right in the faces of people who say we don’t deserve to live by going out and making something of ourselves.”

A human. That was right. Gren had only been guided by guilt and fear since the day he had killed so many. To claim he felt nothing was a lie. His own punishment was a sham.

“I…” He spoke to Wesley’s back as he strode away, weak but purposeful. “I hope…” Hope. He hadn’t hoped for anything beyond his next meal in so long. Having no idea what to say, he feebly waved in what he hoped wasn’t a final goodbye.

Wesley laughed. “Later, dude. Try not to die.”

They met again another two years after that while Gren was surveying the army barracks. He’d spent a lot of the time between his first meeting with Wesley and then travelling, seeing the full impact of Bittersweet Nightshade on Ghuria’s land and people. He knew the exact location of every village and could approximate how many people lived there. He knew where the remaining fertile lands were and was acquainted with every river and stream. There was a love for his homeland that he hadn’t felt before, not even when things were still good. Ghuria had become a wretched, barren place by his own hand, but it was where his family had lived. It was the land that had still given him leave to survive despite his failures.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The barracks were pitiful, but that was to be expected. The army became fewer in rank by the month. Most of their efforts involved defending Ghuria’s villages from Sacerian retaliation to raids, which in turn were basically all that kept everybody afloat those days.

Gren was camped out in a tree, watching as the soldiers made preparations to disperse what hauls from raids they’d managed to gather. How many were left now? Maybe thirty?

“Yo!”

“Wah!” Gren jumped, shocked out of his thoughts.

Wesley Lacaden breezed back into his life, cackling as he jetted up on wind to join Gren, sitting on a branch below him. “That’s certainly more expressive.”

“Nice to see you again.” It struck Gren how strange and wonderful it was to meet with someone he hadn’t seen in such long time but find himself feeling like only a few moments had passed.

“Yeah, same.” Wesley grinned. “Come to join us? We could use you.”

“I’ve had my share of killing, thank you.”

Wesley sighed. “I gotta admit I’m pretty jealous. If I had your power, every last one of those pigs would be dead.”

Gren looked towards Sacer’s bountiful lands. “And then what?”

“Eh?”

“Then what would be left for you to aim for?”

“Geez. Didn’t know I was coming over for a therapy session,” Wesley laughed, then looked up at Gren thoughtfully. “Hey. I’ve heard talk of a surrender.”

And now Gren almost fell out of the tree due to sheer alarm. “But if we surrender, they’ll…”

“You know that, I know that, we all do. It’s just a few whispers here and there for now, but that’s where it’s going. They have the manpower to outlast us and a few magics too powerful for us to beat in the end. So I guess that’s it.”

“Did you get to kill them like you wanted?” Gren asked quietly.

“Not enough.” Wesley looked toward Sacer now too, an almost manic wistfulness winding through his words. “Not nearly enough.”

But it would never be enough. Not unless they ended this. Not unless they found another way, but was that even possible…? Once Gren started thinking of the possibilities that day, he never really stopped.

“I won’t use my magic to kill them, not unless I absolutely have to… But I’m pretty good with a knife, you know,” he found himself saying. “I could make a decent raider.”

Wesley grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“I’ll make camp nearby. Come get me when you need my help."

“Got it. Thanks, bud.”

“No need.” Gren accepted Wesley’s offered hand, and they slid down to the ground on a arc of ice. “Give me some time. I’m going to come up with something… I’ll find a solution to all of this. That’s my responsibility as the person who started it all.” Somewhere, there had to be more people who saw that ending the cycle was the only way to go forward. A way to save Ghuria… To save his home. Gren just had to believe in that.

“So I joined the army,” he said in conclusion. “Most of it was raiding work with Wes. When it really did come to talking about total surrender about a month ago, I became the new leader. Everywhere I went, I looked for someone who might understand and help end things the way I knew this needed to end. Hurting others leads to misery. It leads to revenge, and to more hurt, and it keeps turning until we’re all destroyed. So I just kept going, and…” He looked at Dorothea with a small smile. “I met you.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she glanced away before finding his eyes again. “That was an unimaginable burden,” she said softly.

“It was fine.” They’d made it here, somehow.

“So Wesley, he…” Dorothea laughed. “Yeah. He was your Sharkie.” She nestled against the wall and drew her knees up. “I guess the people you end up treasuring the most have a tendency to be there just when you need them, huh?”

“Sounds about right. Because of Wes, I decided never to take anything for granted again. There’s no use stopping yourself from feeling, and like I said, we’re not guaranteed time. I need to say what I mean when I say anything at all.” He looked away from her as the embarrassment of talking about himself so much sunk in. “Mm. So Wes, he… He’s another person who’s had too much taken. I’d appreciate it if you try to understand him, same as you worked to understand me. You don’t have to like him of course, but try to see him.”

She nodded. “I will.” She tucked hair behind her ear, and he saw that it was tinged red as well.

“Mm.” Since they were already on the subject of personal matters and she was practically glowing with how brightly red she was, he asked, “Do you have anyone else in Sacer, or in Sirpo?” In plain language: was she single?

“Well, there’s Sil. He took care of me when I was younger, when my mom was sick. You know Ariana and Rhys, and there’s Cerid too.”

“About your mother, I’m sorry.” If not for him, she might still be alive.

She smiled, telling him it was okay. “I like to think she’d be happy with where I am now.”

Gren smiled too. “I think the same way.” His parents, his sisters… They’d be proud of his efforts, he was sure.

Still, to be reminded of it… He’d taken a lot from her. Yes, it was important to say what needed to be said, but for him to actively pursue someone he’d caused so much heartache for…

He could imagine what she’d say to these thoughts. She’d tell him it wasn’t his fault, that she’d already forgiven everything. That certainty warmed his heart, but there were some lines he shouldn’t cross, right?

He snapped back to the present moment as Dorothea sighed and got to her feet. “Wesley will be up by now. Let’s go meet him so we can get to work.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry in advance.”

Right. She’d pour her life into Ghuria’s soil, and all he could do was watch her fall apart. “No worries.” If that had to be the case, he was happy to be able to do this much.

“Feel all that you can while you still can,” she said, almost to herself. Then she laughed, looking at him with an awkward, shy smile. “Maybe it’s worth a shot?”

She was blushing and she was warm and she was there, but she wouldn’t be for much longer. He reached out, hesitated one last time, made up his mind for sure, and took her hand gently. She jumped, staring at him as her pupils dilated.

“Maybe I’m just being too impatient,” Gren said. It was the first time he’d ever said anything like this, but the words were coming more easily than he’d thought. Probably because he felt so comfortable with her. “Ideally there would be more time to feel things out, but I don’t want to waste a single second. So, Dorothea, I like you. I want to be with you, and get to know you more with that intention in mind.”

“You like,” she squeaked, “m-me?”

“Romantically, yes.” Better not to leave any room for doubt.

“Uh. Er. Well I, it’s just, you see…” Her free hand went up to cover her face, and Gren stepped back from her.

“Don’t worry. It’s more than enough for me to be friends. I said it because I wanted to, not to pressure you.”

She reached out to clasp the hand he’d taken away from her. “No, I…!” She looked into his eyes, frozen and searching for words.

“Hey!” Wesley banged on the door and yelled, laughing when Dorothea let out a squeal. He let himself in as was the usual between him and Gren. “You two are late.” A smirk spread on his face as he took in Dorothea’s face, her hands held up as if caught in the middle of a crime. Rhys peered from behind him, also not looking surprised at all. “Thanks for having the decency to keep all that to yourselves.”

Gren sighed. Well, he’d done as he liked. Things would keep moving either way. “Come on.” He gave Dorothea a slight smile. “I mean it. Don’t worry. About any of it.”

She hesitated. “Okay…”

“Oh, rejected?” Wesley laughed. “Too bad.”

Gren his his arm lightly. “Shut it.” All that mattered was that he do what he could for her as a friend while she was still there. Every passing of every second, he’d be sure to make the absolute most of it.