“Holding to virtue nine choices out of ten does not make the tenth any less of a sin.”
– Tariq Isbili of the Dominion of Levant
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I laid my palm against the oaken door handle and pushed. The door slowly creaked open, and I was greeted by a somewhat familiar scene as I made my way inside. There were three people seated around a table. Klaus Papenheim and Cordelia Hasenbach I recognized easily. Klaus stood hunched over a heavily annotated map of the Principate set atop the desk on the far right-hand side. His grizzled face turned towards me as I entered.
“Evening girl,” he greeted me roughly, then turned his attention back to the pages below.
Lange had fallen a week ago. Prince Dagobert was dead. I suspected that Cordelia was in the process of consolidating her forces before she prepared to march once more.
“Good evening,” I greeted all three of them.
Cordelia was seated on the far left of the table and was carefully nursing a cup of tea beside the fireplace. Books were stacked neatly before her. It looked as if she was taking a break from whatever it was she had been working on. She looked up as I spoke.
“I must congratulate you for your surgical handling of the revolution in Aisne. I was not expecting you to have such a ruthless temperament.”
Her gaze lingered judgementally on what I wore for more than a few heartbeats. I pushed down the sense of self consciousness. It didn’t matter if they weren’t proper court dress. They meant something to me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. Her declaration confused me.
“After discovering that Princess Clotilde was kept away under lock and key, you accepted the invitation of all three feuding members of the nobility, and then leaked the locations of the venues and the travel routes to the revolution. It was then that your attaché rescued Princess Clotilde. Once she arrived at the scene of rebellion, you successfully sold the appearance of scolding her to the angry mob. It was a much defter manipulation of the crowd than I had expected.” She examined my face as she spoke, then her eyebrows rose. “It appears that you were not aware of this scheme.”
So that was what Songbird had done.
The pieces of the puzzle slotted together. Songbird had known Princess Clotilde was in the Hall of Records. She had known for some time. Instead of trusting me to handle the situation, she had manipulated everything I had known to achieve her own ends.
Cold. I felt cold. I had known she was lying to me about a lot, but I had not expected it to be about things that mattered. It was a failure on my part to not consider she would lie about something as significant as this. Everything that happened in Aisne after our arrival had been orchestrated by her. I had trusted her, considered her a friend, and she had violated my trust. It felt like a betrayal. Acid burned at the back of my throat.
No, put this aside, you can deal with it the moment you’re done here.
I breathed in and out, taking a moment to centre myself.
There was an empty chair beside the final figure. A silent young girl wearing a blue dress and skin as pale as porcelain. She turned my way as I strode towards her, the tread of my bare feet dampened by the cool of the stone. It was Agnes Hasenbach. I had seen her before, but always from a distance. This was my first time meeting her in person.
I slipped the satchel under my arms loose, placed it on the desk with a heavy thunk, then sank down into the cushioned upholstery of the chair.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Ah,” she murmured and smiled at me. The expression was pitying. “The lighthouse is vacant. The sparrows don’t like you. Neither do the hawks.” An absent look came to her eyes. “Crows roost to the north.”
“Vacant…lighthouse?” I replied. Her words confused me.
“You will have to explain this to us,” Cordelia interjected.
“Ah, yes. I forget, sometimes,” Agnes blinked in surprise. “The Ratlings march on Rhenia. One of their Horned Lords has awoken.” She rested her hand on top of my own. “You need to head north, light the fires. The Empress wins on all paths if you don’t.”
Everyone around the table stiffened and looked at her. The silence was deafening. Agnes’s hand withdrew.
“We should withdraw,” Klaus said immediately, straightening. “Our duty is to the north.”
“No, stay. The lighthouse can protect the north. Doom comes from the east if you go.”
“While your assistance in the upcoming campaign would have proven invaluable, I believe this to be more urgent,” Cordelia told me.
“I hold that this is a mistake,” Klaus rumbled. “We should retreat to the north and defend the wall.”
“We cannot afford to allow the civil war in the Principate to continue for much longer,” Cordelia disagreed.
An argument broke out between Klaus and Cordelia. It lasted for a while. Klaus wanted to leave and Cordelia argued they should stay. Eventually it came to a stop. Cordelia had managed to have her way.
There was no need to ask whether Cordelia trusted the Augur. Not after she had spent over half an hour arguing on the girl’s behalf. That wasn’t the extent of it. Agnes often looked at Cordelia with the kind of fervour that bordered on religious.
This isn’t Dinah.
I needed to keep telling myself that this would not end the same way. This wasn’t the end of the world, and Agnes was different from Dinah. She wasn’t entirely put together. Even at only a glance, it was evident that her mind wasn’t completely there. It was almost as if… she was completely lost in a sea of possible futures. Agnes barely existed in the present at all.
I considered what I knew. My long term goals likely required a reformed Procer. I wanted to remain with Cordelia and ensure that the plans I had put into motion did not fall apart. I couldn’t do that if I travelled north. The only issue was, if I didn’t head north, Cordelia would almost certainly withdraw on her own.
It would apparently end in doom as well.
“I’ll go north,” I confirmed.
This wasn’t how I expected this journey to start. I didn’t believe this was a quest to stop the Chain of Hunger. The vision spoke to me in a way that felt more personal.
“Then let us return our attention to the ongoing war,” Klaus declared.
“But I wanted to talk about something else.” I opened the satchel and pulled out the pile of books I brought with me.
Remember the Bard’s advice.
If I wanted any hope of convincing Cordelia then I would need to stick to what I was good at. I was not good at politicking. Cordelia was a master at it. That meant I could not afford to engage her on her own terms. I would present my arguments, tell her to investigate further, then leave. I would not allow her a word edgewise. She could continue the argument in her own head. She could debate my own side better than I could.
“I will see to it that your own correspondence is delivered to your quarters later.” Cordelia stated.
“These are for you,” I pushed the books across to her. I was careful not to upset any of her existing paperwork. “My answer is no. A crusade is a mistake. It’s a mistake politically, economically, ethically, and in terms of story.” I paused, licking my lips. “I assume you know how the third through ninth crusade went?”
“The third and fourth crusade failed disastrously and brought about the end of all attempts to claim Praes. The Fifth through Eighth Crusades were all waged against the Dead King, and the Seventh Crusade came the closest to defeating him. All crusades fought against the Dead King ended in defeat. I am not intending to wage a war against the Kingdom of the Dead, but rather to wage a war against the Calamities. Furthermore, I do not intend for Procer to stand alone against the oncoming storm. Procer has fought crusades alone before, but every one was a disaster. I will not repeat that mistake.”
“It is still a mistake. You think of a crusade in terms of a traditional war. As if the outcome will be determined in a clash between armies. That isn’t what will happen. It’s only true at the start. I don’t know which of the other Good nations you would be able to convince. On some level, it doesn’t matter.”
Klaus looked up from his maps once more and turned his gaze my way. I felt his eyes bore into me.
“I’m not a general. Would you mind narrating for me, Klaus?” I turned towards him. “How will the crusade progress?”
“It will be many years before we are ready for a war with Praes,” he mused thoughtfully. “They have Black and Grem One-Eye on their side. The face of warfare has changed, while the Principate claws itself bloody. If Procer fails to change with it, then an assault on the Empire will only end in defeat. Furthermore, if we were to send a host through the Red Flower Vales too early, they’ll savage it and set the border principalities on fire.”
“Pretend you’ve prepared. You have supply lines set up and armies ready to march. New strategies and tactics have been drafted to fight the Empire. Pick whatever allies you like. What happens next?”
“Ashur attacks by sea. They target-”
“I don’t know anything about naval combat,” I admitted. “Stick to the land engagements.”
Not that I know much about land engagements. I felt confident when it came to tactics, but knew that I was bad at strategy. The man who was considered to be one of the foremost strategists on the continent certainly outclassed me in every way. I hoped I could convince them not to start a crusade by having them plan one out. They would both realize that there was nothing to be gained if they looked far enough ahead.
I also knew I was being unfair here. If I gave Klaus enough time to think, he would find solutions to all the problems I threw up. I needed to lead the conversation in the direction I wanted, without letting him truly shine at what he did. The thought made me feel slimy.
I need to spend less time around politicians.
“We don’t ever want to get into a siege with the Praesi, but we’d have no other choice. The first engagements between armies begin when we besiege the old Proceran fortifications in the Vales. The war would also need to be fought on multiple fronts at once.”
“I disagree,” I stated. “The first deaths will start long before that. The Vales are narrow and treacherous. Navigating them isn’t easy. It's easy to strategically place explosives. Your soldiers will die in avalanches or to buried munitions. They won’t encounter enemy soldiers. Praes won’t fight at all. There is no reason to think they wouldn’t plant bombs in the mountainside. It’s easy to drown you in snow.”
I assumed that sharpers and other forms of goblin munitions were a more recent development in Calernia. One that hadn’t been used prolifically until more recently. Klaus would have accounted for them otherwise. There was no way that one of the foremost military strategists on the continent would overlook something like that if explosives had been frequently deployed in the past.
“Tactics would be prepared to account for Praesi nastiness.” Klaus’s lips pressed together in a line. “Priests could sweep for munitions. If all else fails, I could call upon one of the chosen with a Name governed by luck to identify places to avoid during a crusade. Eventually, the crusade’s forces would arrive at the other end of the Vale. That is when the war would start in earnest. The siege would be bloody.”
Make him skip through the details before he becomes entrenched.
I took a breath before speaking up.
“This is what I think will happen next. Both sides will trade soldiers at first. I don’t know how those engagements will proceed. I am not a general. What I do know is that at some point, one side or the other will start losing. How will the losing side react?”
“I would answer differently during a conventional war,” Klaus warned, “but during a crusade, that is when the Chosen or the Damned will take the field.” He positioned a pin carefully on the map below him while he talked. “Whichever side is losing will pull out whatever nastiness they can, and the opposition will reply in kind.” It sounded as if he was pulling out teeth as he spoke.
I suspected he did not like the idea of heroes and villains on the battlefield at all.
“Right. One side or the other becomes desperate and escalates. Someone like me starts fighting. I could have killed the entire army in the Guiseron swampland. It would have been easier. I didn’t do it because I didn’t and still don’t want anyone to be hurt. Say the Warlock drops a hell on your army. Assume that I kill him in retaliation, but in the process three demons are let loose. Heroes move in to kill them. Some of them are lost. What happens next?”
“The war drags on,” Klaus answered gravely. “If enough soldiers remain, then we march on until our foes have been defeated. Otherwise, a retreat will be called.”
“Wrong,” I slammed my hand down on the table for emphasis. “A crusade isn’t a normal war. This is when the crusade is going to start. The war has become bloody. Thousands have died. Your men want to pull out. Unfortunately, you can’t because it’s a crusade and neither the heroes nor the church will let you. Look at those records.” I indicated towards the books that were now beside Cordelia. “They don’t end with both sides meeting at a peace table. They end when either the crusaders suffer a crippling defeat or their enemy dies.”
“We are no strangers to fighting lost causes,” Klaus stated.
“I desire for the war to be fought mostly in Praes itself,” Cordelia interjected. “Should foreign soldiers fight over their fields for too long, there is no telling if the Callowans would turn on the crusaders.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
I turned to face Cordelia this time. “Assume you push the Empire out of Callow early on. The Calamities are alive. They have retreated into Praes. Your forces are broken and battered, but so are the villains. Surely the war can end now that Callow is liberated? No, the war goes on. This isn’t a fight for the Principate. This is the Tenth Crusade against the Dread Empire of Praes. It does not end until Dread Empress Malicia is dead. Say you win the crusade. Now what?”
I smiled grimly and leaned back in my chair.
“You realized as the war dragged on that your current forces weren’t enough. Peasant levies were raised in order to support the crusade. The economy of Procer was crippled for a generation. Nobody wants you in power any more. They will remove you from the position of First Prince. That’s the good ending. The ending where you win. Now consider that seven out of nine crusades lost.”
I wasn’t sure if this would be enough to convince Cordelia. I was hoping I would not need to say more. Depending on where the conversation went, I would quickly bow out.
“One day the Tower will have their Legions spill out onto the continent.” Cordelia stated ominously. “When this war comes, how would you choose to fight it?”
“Defensively,” I shrugged. It was a hard truth, but I held it to be the correct one. “Reinforce your borders. Forge alliances. Prepare in case they attack, but don’t strike the first blow.” My leg bounced up and down energetically as I spoke. “I don’t think Praes will attack. The Calamities are smart. The story is on your side from the moment their first soldiers set foot across the borders. If they do, then declare a crusade. But they won’t. They will try to secure their grip on Callow and they will fail. Liesse was the first chink in their armour. The Empire will fall apart to internal squabbling. Then a small group of heroes can make their way across the borders and kill the Calamities in a targeted strike.”
People would need to be ready to step in and lead Callow. I didn’t know how to handle that part. However, once the Empire had already started falling apart, it would only be preventing the conflict from being prolonged.
“There will be many dispossessed soldiers after the civil war in Procer ends. Men and women who took up the blade only to now have their purpose stripped from them. They will turn to banditry or mercenary work without a war to wage. They would be spread across every Principality. It would be beyond my power to put them to any specific use. My reign will be stable for the first few years, but as time goes by, the other Princes will gradually erode my support base. Eventually I will become a figurehead or be replaced entirely. That is when the internal struggles of the Principate would begin anew and no true progress would have been made. How would you prevent it from falling apart before the horrors to the north come knocking once more?”
So that’s what she wants.
She wanted to start a crusade so that she could send unemployed soldiers to die somewhere while tying up her political opponents. I reminded myself that she had not gone through with it. The crusade had not been called for, she had merely suggested the idea. The idea of sacrificing tens of thousands of people just to remain in the seat of power nauseated me.
“Change the system if it doesn’t work. There would be a lower death toll if you assassinated every Prince and set yourself up as a monarch than if you started a crusade. Not that I like the idea of murdering them. Procer would collapse, and it’s still likely better than calling for a crusade.” I told her seriously. “You could also abdicate when the time comes. It’s what I think you should do. Don’t just say you believe in the Principate, act like it.”
I paused for a breath. Cordelia looked like she was about to speak, but I forestalled her.
“Be a dictator or don’t. You can’t remain in power forever and keep the current system. Actually, maybe you can, but you will be destroying the spirit of the thing you are claiming to defend to do it. That’s hypocrisy. What is the Principate? Is it a system of governance, or is it a people united in purpose? There are many ways that you can achieve the latter. Train a successor during your tenure to ensure your plans continue. Nothing stops you from throwing your weight behind someone when your reign comes to an end. Focus on uniting the Principate if that is what matters. Bind the principalities together in a way that makes conflict like this undesirable. Fund construction projects in other Principalities to create a bias in the long term specialization of each Principality. Build an academy for sorcerers in one Principality and a school for officers in another. Try to pass a law that makes it mandatory for all Principalities to send some of their new recruits north for proper blooding. Offer each Principality something so they all have a reason to agree. If you need people to care about what happens in other Principalities, then give them a reason to travel. Make them care.” I finished.
Best to leave now, don’t let her have her say.
Cordelia would argue me down the moment I let her talk again. I had already said my piece. It was better if I left the room now while I still had the momentum. She could continue both sides of the debate in her own head. She’d even do a better job presenting my side for me. I hoped that I had said enough to sway her to my side.
“I’m heading north. Read those books. Talk to priests and other heroes. Talk to your advisors. Find out what they all say. Learn what you can, and then decide if a crusade will really get you what you want. I am not supporting one. Good evening.” I stood up from the table and nodded at them both.
I felt Agnes’s hand land on my own once more.
“You saw them all once,” she whispered softly. I doubted anyone else in the room could hear her voice. “Every star in every sky. No star left uncharted.”
I paused. My heart froze.
“Yes,” I ventured.
“One day you will see them all again.”
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I was rattled as I made my way over to the rooms that Yvette, Songbird and I were staying at. Agnes’s words had struck a chord. I knocked, then opened the door to Songbird’s quarters. She wasn’t there. I tried Yvette’s room next. She was asleep.
I quietly closed the door to her room, then briefly returned to my own. Cordelia had remained true to her word. I briefly skimmed the correspondence relating to Roland. He had allegedly been seen near Aequitan recently.
Time to deal with Songbird.
I asked the servants if they knew where Songbird had gone. It took plenty of interrogation before I narrowed her position down. It was almost midnight by the time I had found her. My mood was blacker than the night sky.
She had betrayed me. Betrayed my trust. It was different from the last time someone had stuck a knife in my back. That didn’t make it hurt any less. I had told her to put her thoughts together and talk to me. She had never followed through. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I’d declared amnesty for everyone else involved in the revolution.
Was I going to make an exception for her?
No. But that didn’t mean I would just let this go. She started the collapse in Aisne. We entered a city that was constructed from a house of cards, and she was the one who pulled out the tablecloth from underneath. It wasn’t entirely her fault, but a significant portion of the blame could be put at her feet.
I would talk to her first and see what she said. Then I would make up my mind.
I arrived at an extravagant building in the richer quarters of the city. It had large red and purple banners trailing outside, and fumes billowed their way out from between the open windows. Small crowds of people loitered outside the open double doors.
Even from a distance, the sound of music and raucous laughter could be heard from within. I approached the door and looked inside. I wrinkled my nose as the fragrance of incense, and the fumes of cheap liquor assaulted my sinuses.
Dim candles lit the interior. It was moody and difficult for me to see. It took a few heartbeats for my eyes to adjust.
I was met by the sight of what could only be termed an enthusiastic Calernian party. Many of the people had glazed over looks in their eyes. At least half of them were at least partially if not fully undressed. I skimmed over the room quickly. Past throngs of people dancing provocatively. Past those who were frolicking on couches that were spread out across a large recessed floor. I looked towards tables near the opposite side of the establishment. Waiters and waitresses dressed in red uniforms that showed more than just a little skin skilfully navigated the mob, plying the proprietor’s wares to the crowd.
I spotted Songbird seated at a table near the back of the building with three men and two other women. She was sandwiched between two muscular men, nude from the waist up and holding cards in one hand. Her other hand was below the table. The other five wore even less. All six of them looked to be in high spirits. There was joyous laughter and smiles all around.
Unfortunately for them, I planned to break this up.
I marched over to their table, doing my best to avoid the ongoing mess along the way.
“Songbird,” I greeted her. My voice had a hard edge to it. I was angrier than I thought.
“S’pose I’m in trouble. Sorry friends, but I gotta leave,” she said in a breathy voice. Her face was flushed. Songbird reached behind herself, grabbed her jacket and slung it over her shoulders. She didn’t even bother to put her clothes back on. Then she followed behind me.
“Clothes on,” I ordered frostily as we reached the door.
It was telling that she didn’t bother to raise a quip in response. I took a moment to clean the both of us as we stepped outside.
“M’guessing you-”
“Follow.”
My hands were balled into fists. It was hard to keep my breathing measured. All my muscles were taut. I was on edge.
We made our way in silence towards an empty back alley. I turned around and faced her.
“Why?” I asked.
“S’pose we're talking now? What d’you need to know?”
“I know what you did in Aisne. How you manipulated the revolution. Set up the Nobles to die and put Princess Clotilde in power. You knew I wouldn’t be happy about what you did. Why did you do it anyway?”
“The revolution was always gonna happen,” she said seriously. “You’re a bleeding heart. Nothing you could do would’ve stopped it.”
“Why didn’t you even tell me about Princess Clotilde?”
“S’pose s’not obvious. I knew you’d’ve liked her. Prob’ly befriended her early on.” Songbird tossed her head back dismissively, shaking her loose hair from side to side as she did so. “Then that show you put on wouldn’t’ve happened. You’d’ve tried to talk everyone down. It wouldn’t’ve worked, and the peasants would’ve ignored you. We would still be in Aisne picking up the pieces.” She tried to lay a hand on my shoulder. I grabbed it and pulled away.
“You don’t trust me to make my own choices.”
“You’re dangerous. More dangerous than almost anyone. It’s good that you’re trying to be a hero but what happens if you slip? M’better at scheming then you. See how Aisne ended. Y’could-”
“Yes. See how Aisne ended,” I interrupted her. “I was almost trapped. The city almost went up in flames. If the Bard didn’t save me, then I would have been done for. You’re good at scheming, but not as good as you think. What would have happened if she wasn’t there?”
“You’re a good person, Taylor. Prob’ly better than everyone else.” She said softly. “But you weren’t always this way. I know you can make hard choices. It’ll hurt, but you can do it. S’why did you change? What terrifying thing did you see that made you want to be a hero?”
“I saw Calernia. I came from a different world. It was kinder in some ways and harsher in others. I used to make those kinds of choices. Rationalize them, tell myself that I was right. Then I arrived here. I saw everyone making them and decided I was wrong.”
“There was no big fight? No hero who scared you?” She asked doubtfully.
“The fight came before. The world I lived in was ending, and I was one of many who helped to stop it. That wasn’t important. That one moment isn’t who I am. It wasn’t why I’m like this now.”
“Y’say the world ending wasn’t important?”
“I could define myself by that fight. Where would it get me? Not anywhere good. I’d be the heroine that lived past her story. That’s not a good person to be. So I’m not treating it that way. I’m choosing to treat it as a stepping stone and not the finish line.”
“S’you want to make kinder choices now. S’pose that’s fine, but sometimes hard choices need to be made. Let me make them for you.” Songbird pleaded. “Don’t worry about making them yourself.”
I could feel what I suspected was a Name slowly taking shape for the first time. It did not come on its own. With the Name came a story. I could almost taste it. I couldn’t be entirely sure, but I suspected that almost everything she had done was out of some kind of loyalty to me. It wouldn’t have started that way. It had only been a lie she had told herself at first. Gradually, the lie had become the truth.
The shape of the story was sickeningly alluring. Sweet, like the scent of roses growing in a bed of corpses.
The band of heroes has a falling out. They don’t talk for a while, and they continue on with their quest. The quest would continue deep into the Chain of Hunger. The journey would be fraught with peril, and eventually we would involve ourselves in a major fight. The battle would draw us together once more, it would mend our relationship.
I would forgive her and let her have her way in the aftermath. I would avert my eyes and smile, pretending I didn’t see all the wrongs she did so that I didn’t have to. Turn a blind eye to people who disappeared, or paled when she was around. Pretending because it was easier, and I wanted to keep my friend. We would be far closer together afterwards. Almost as tight as sisters. The Aspirant and the…
I reached. What Name would fit Songbird? What Name would I give the woman with many faces but no face of her own? The woman who lied and backstabbed and blackened her own soul so that I didn’t need to.
It came to me then. She would be my Hollow Mask. A person who only existed to keep my conscience clean.
It would be so easy as well.
I could be happy, all I had to do was look away. I could swear an oath to never hurt or kill again if I wanted to. She would always be there to plunge the knife. It was a kind of twisted loyalty. A loyalty that I didn’t want to inspire in anyone but could be so very useful. There was nothing she would refuse to do for me if I gave her my blessing. No lines she wouldn’t cross. She would make whole cities disappear if she thought it would make me sleep better at night. All I would need to do is ignore that little niggling at the back of my mind telling me that I was allowing Evil to walk free because I liked the face it showed me.
And I would be the biggest hypocrite on Calernia if I did so.
I tried to reach further. Tried to guess where the story led to. I couldn’t. My speculation ground to a halt.
And just like that, my anger went out.
“No,” I whispered back.
I still felt nauseated. The sense of betrayal cut through me like shards of a broken mirror. But it wasn’t a betrayal of me so much as what I stood for. It hurt even more because I suspected that she was loyal to me. Loyal in a way that was deeply unhealthy.
Songbird flinched. The colour drained out of her face. There was no way the look of shock she bore was anything except genuine.
“I’m… going north,” I continued slowly, fighting back tears. “Yvie is coming with me. You’re staying behind. I’m going to write a letter to Roland. Find him and give it to him. Think about all of this while I’m gone. I like you, Song. Even after this. It hurts to admit it. I don’t want to turn my back on a friend.”
It was an easy task. Nothing more than a chore. Something that I could have even trusted to a messenger.
“What… What d’you want me to do?” she sounded so lost that it stung. Even though her actions hurt me, I felt my eyes begin to water up.
It would be so much easier if I didn’t like her at all. This felt like I was turning my back on a friend.
“Be a better person. It’s hard. I know it is. I didn’t start out this way.” I reached up and wiped the tears out of my eyes.
“Why won’t you let me?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt myself. I want you as a friend. I can’t call the kind of person who would do what you did in Aisne a friend.” I stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “Do some soul-searching. Is this what you really want? Because I don’t want my friends and family to hurt themselves for my sake.”
I would give her one last chance. If it wasn’t for the fact that apparently everyone else thought she did excellently, I wouldn’t have even given her that much. I didn’t know if it would work, but I hoped that she would pull through. It would hurt me far more if she committed to the path she was already on.
“I’ll take the letter,” she told me.
“This isn’t goodbye.” I told her seriously. “It’s a second chance. An opportunity to start over. Figure out if you really want to be my friend. I know it’s unfair to ask people to change but… I’m not prepared to compromise this much. It will be hard, but I promise it’s worth it. It was for me. And if you decide you want to stay… I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”
The two of us walked back to our respective rooms in silence. There was a gap between us, a distance that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t know if she would take me up on my offer, or if she would go her own way.
Not knowing scared me.
It hurt that I still wanted to be friends with her after what she had done.
Was giving her a second chance this way a mistake? Should I have chosen to end her life instead? I wanted to have hope. I wanted to believe she would decide to be a better person. That Songbird wasn’t lying to me even now.
I wasn’t sure if the face she had shown was merely another mask designed to change my mind.
All I knew was that the Name that had been forming had been irrevocably broken when I had turned her down.