No sooner was Iree granted permission by the council to do as she pleased in light of recent events that Cerid, Shark and Ariana’s final gambit came back to let her know that simply because they had been beaten down time and time again didn’t mean they would ever let themselves be defeated.

She was envisioning how the army would seamlessly mobilize under her direction to squash the rats for good, with every able-bodied person in Sacer mobilizing in a state of emergency, their patriotism galvanized by the tragic loss of their great leader, when the council room doors burst open.

“Cinder!” The messenger paled, remembering that the person that had always been looked to by the nation for calm control was gone as of that same morning. “I mean, council…” A packet of papers was clutched in their hand, and they stumbled towards where the council was seated. “A big problem, a huge problem,” they babbled. “These have been distributed throughout the entire fort. There’s outrage, rioting… Please. We need direction.”

The council members looked at each other warily to see who would take responsibility. Iree stormed forward and snatched it away. A complication was the last thing she needed, and she was ready to burn whoever was responsible to a crisp.

Her boiling rage froze over as she took the words in. On the front page was a simple declaration: “This war is not what it seems. See the proof below and consider where your conscience takes you.” And below that line was a copy, word for word, of her mother’s letter to her. The very same letter that implicated Cinder and Sharee in planning this war.

That by itself didn’t scare her as much as the back page. There was some wiggle room for deniability in only showing the letter. Anyone could have fabricated it.

But the back page held signed testimony from Cadby Creed, a respected former leader. Everything he had seen and heard from Sharee and Cinder back then and from Cinder and Iree ever since.

And after that was a letter addressed to all of Sacer from Cerid Creed.

Good day all. If you are reading this, then our land is at a crossroads.

My name is Cerid Creed. As a child of Sacer, I grew up believing in what our nation stands for. We have cultivated our military might and trained ourselves to believe in protecting that strength at all costs. That is in part by being sure to despise our enemies to the point of denying their humanity.

With the revelations in previous pages, I truly hope you can see that this way of living is no longer sustainable or just. Change is necessary for the future. Indeed, the idea of change is what spurred my father and Sharee Nobelis in the first place.

I will not pretend to be better. In the hopes of changing Sacer’s marriage laws, I was not so long ago determined to destroy Ghuria. The love of my life is not a woman, and in my desperation I saw fit to stoop as low as I needed to in order to create a beter world for us and people like us. Even so, we have both since learned that creating such a legacy for the sake of our goals is not acceptable.

No one deserves to feel unwanted in their own homeland. No one deserves to be denied or for their spirit to be crushed in such a way. To reclaim our spirits over the corpses of the innocent, however, is not the way. It is the easier way in the moment, perhaps, but never the right way.

So I offer an alternative. Whoever you are, whatever your pain. If you are like me, or wish for a home you can be proud of, or if you simply disagree with the methods that brought us to this point, I can only ask that you reconsider what kind of life you wish to lead and what kind of person you wish to be, particularly in your relation to others. Will this world be ruled by wanton hate, or might we try to save who we can?

If it had come to you reading this, then I am no longer able to seize a position of leadership to change these things as I was attempting to. I may soon be dead, and my few allies will have scattered if they are still alive.

You may leave Sacer. My private correspondence with Sirpo’s council has them prepared to take in anyone who wishes to create a new life. I will not pretend this is a perfect solution. Uprooting one’s life is difficult. I would dare to say that living gruesome lies is far worse than having to start over. Stronger people than I have chosen that path and flourished through each obstacle. It is the option that will allow freedom and peace in a way that may soon become impossible here.

Or maybe you wish to fight, whether against the ones who would allow this war to continue or against those who would wish for peace to come with Ghuria still standing.

I love my homeland. I love its people, and I wanted to create a land where everyone could be happy and free. I once more beg you to look into yourselves and question the roots of your hatred. This is what truly determines what kind of future we are able to create.

Please take care of yourselves and each other. Be as kind as you can, even to your enemies. For once, that is worth trying.

With best wishes and earnest hope,

Cerid Cadence Creed

Iree saw it for the useless, wheedling plea it was. Still, with the weight of what Cinder and Sharee had done, people would be much more likely to consider it.

A council member approached to take the papers from her, and the group huddled to examine all at once. They all kept looking at her in shock throughout, and Iree tried to fabricate an explanation in the short time it took them to read.

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Another messenger entering the room bought her a few more seconds. “Cadby Creed was just seen departing the fort on horseback with a large parcel. It’s likely more of these leaflets. He’s being pursued, but some of the fort guard is refusing to act until the matter is resolved. A few soldiers even went with him as allies. What do we do?”

One of the council members spoke up in a quiet, scared voice. “Commander. Did you know about this?”

Lying came naturally. “Of course not! My mother… She would never do something like this!”

Her fake tears and grief-stricken voice convinced some, but others still eyed her with suspicion. She could see them piecing it together. So this was why her promotion to commander had lined up so neatly with the events of five years ago. This was why Cinder had always made sure Iree got leeway.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Iree said. “Cinder probably promoted me and did everything he did because he felt sorry for me. He was complicit in my mother’s death, after all. Regardless, this matter warrants an investigation. We can decide everyone’s guilt or lack thereof after due process.”

“Doesn’t that apply to Cerid Creed as well, then?” a familiar voice interjected.

Iree’s mouth fell open, and a ringing in her ears almost washed everything else away. Rhys was strolling into the room with his hands in his pockets. It felt just like old times, the sight of a mousy boy trailing towards her with an unhurried pace.

Yet so different. So different was the look in his eyes, only steel and decision.

Everyone else was also too shocked to react, so he kept talking. “I bet you were awfully quick to cement your own version of the story and lock Cerid up before he could say a single thing in his own defense. Given the information in Cerid’s letter, isn’t it plausible that Cerid acted in self-defense and it was Iree here who took advantage of the situation to get him out of the way? Right, esteemed council?”

“As if we would let the word of a traitor influence us!” Iree retorted. “We’re far above that.” More importantly, how had he even gotten into the fort?

She noticed flecks of dirt in his hair. Had to be they’d come from underground with Olyen’s magic, which meant the rats could be anywhere in the fort adding to the havoc Cerid’s stupid letter was already causing.

“Drop the act, Iree,” Rhys said quietly. “It’s over.” He withdrew both hands from his pockets. “Everyone knows what you’ve done. What Sharee did.”

A chuckle escaped Iree, and then she was grinning, and then she was clutching her stomach in throes of deep, almost wailing laughter.

She’d known it was over the moment Atlin and Rhys escaped, really. Just hadn’t wanted to admit it. But it meant Kingfisher had turned against her. Which meant that Creed and Olyen, who had less loyalty to her than Kingfisher and Rhys ever had and were still turned by Atlin, would surely turn against her as well.

But she had to admit to truth to herself. She’d had to. Because there was one thing she had to do no matter the cost.

She had to kill Dorothea Atlin.

Iree could no longer give her mother the victory she’d died for. What she could give her, though, was the death of the person primarily responsible for making that victory impossible.

So it was decided. She had launched an attack on Ghuria she knew wouldn’t have good results to weed out Kinfisher, Creed and Olyen so that she could goad Cinder and Cerid into a confrontation over the fool son’s disloyalty.

Of course Cinder had been in on it. She wouldn’t have been able to accomplish this on her own. It was his idea, actually. They both coped with their impending loss in different ways. It was always just a matter of time until the Ghurians stopped deciding to show mercy simply because Iree never would. And Iree didn’t mind rushing that if it meant she could lure them all into a trap.

Cinder died, so she contained Cerid. He was the bait. The enemy arrived as expected, righteous and resolved, and everything fell into place.

Damn, it was funny.

Damn. It was really over, wasn’t it?

At least it would be on her terms, as was just.

She could hardly breathe through her laughter. “Oh, come on, Rhys,” she giggled. “You really thought I wouldn’t be prepared?”

He narrowed his eyes, and the same time an arrow of water shot across the room in an attack aimed straight at her heart, a cacophonous orchestra of explosions shook the room. They came from outside, both near and far, and from inside the building as well.

Iree sidestepped the attack as Rhys looked around in a panic. “Oh my, is Cerid’s little niece still upstairs? Might want to go help her while you still can.” The acrid scent of smoke was already starting to wash over them, the internal structure of the building wailing. The council fled from the room, most rushing out the front door while one dashed up the stairs after hearing Iree’s threat towards Calla.

Rhys didn’t move beyond waving his hand and trapping her in a maze of water. This time, she knew, he wouldn’t drop the attack. “I don’t know why I ever expected better from you, Iree.”

Even as he said that, he looked utterly defeated. “I read the letter. Dorothea showed me.” He smiled, and she realized for the first time that he had been heartbroken for years and she’d chosen not to see it. Even now, she had no clue whatsoever as to what might have caused it.

“If I’d never done what I did that day, maybe Sharee never would have approached Cinder. Maybe you wouldn’t have become what you did. Or maybe you would have. I don’t know if people are born evil or not. But I did an unspeakable thing, and you did several unspeakable things.” He laughed quietly. “Don’t you get it, Iree? Don’t you understand why Sharee did all of this?”

“You don’t have the right to talk about her anymore.”

He shook his head hopelessly. “You are the exact kind of monster she wanted to prevent, Iree. She did it so we wouldn’t follow the violent path we were put on from the moment we were born. But you never saw that, did you? You just saw your own loss and anger.”

He took a few steps closer. “She’d be ashamed of you. She’d hate you and sob and scream at you for what you’ve done. You’re the one that’s been spitting in the face of what she tried to do, not honoring her. Do you get it?

Iree’s eyes were blurry from the smoke, nothing else. “My mother did nothing wrong,” she said simply. “Neither did I. And the person who stole away my chance to honor her will die. There’s no way Atlin will be able to sit by and let this stand. She’ll lose all she’s got left healing both Sacer and Ghuria. So I win. We win, mother.”

That was good enough for her. Her life’s mission was accomplished.

Rhys dropped his hands, leaving an empty gulf between them. For what felt like forever, neither of them moved.

“Never mind,” Rhys finally said in a soft, broken voice. “I never would have gotten closure from you anyways.”

She never understood what he meant, because she died seconds later.