With my breath, the silence splinters. The woman steps towards him as if waking from a trance.

“Oswin,” she breathes. She reaches for him.

“Don’t,” I manage to croak.

This time, she has the sense to listen to me. Still, she kneels beside him, her hand hovering dangerously close. “He’s still alive,” she whispers.

She’s right. There is a faint twitch in his fingers, a last snatch of breath in his lungs. But his unspoken cries are fading.

“Not for long,” I say.

Her head snaps to me. In an instant, she is back on her feet, any scrap of gentleness whisked away. Her glare pierces me like the blade she reaches for. 

“You did this.”

She unsheathes the sword, its tip slicing the air before me. I hold up my hands, no longer caring for the flames which stream over my palms.

“Please,” I gasp out. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Leave him, Edita.”

The voice startles both of us. I flick my gaze in its direction and notice the captain, still motionless outside the cell. As I watch, he unfolds his arms and steps closer to the bars. “You said it yourself. He’s just a boy.”

She pauses, glancing over, but shows no sign of lowering the sword. “A boy who just killed Oswin.”

“And one who could kill you too in an instant, if he wished to.” He drifts to the doorway. “Leave him. Besides, as a resident of this castle, it is up to our general to decide his fate.”

My eyes flick from him to the woman. She hesitates, pain and fury and fear all equally harsh in her eyes, before she gives a reluctant nod and drops her sword. It remains at her side, however, and her grip on its hilt does not lessen.

“The general better decide well,” she hisses as she steps away, gaze lingering on Oswin.

I swallow hard. Slowly, I lower my hands as well, though my flames burn too fiercely for me to extinguish them. My mind is a tangle, any coherent thought buried deep.

There is one thing I know, however. Oswin’s pain is over. His body is limp before me.

While the woman marches from the cell, the captain lingers at his entrance, though he doesn’t come any closer. I’m glad. The renewed distance is a small comfort.

“Come,” he says, beckoning.

My feet seem frozen to the floor. I play my fire over my wrist. It is all I can control.

He taps his foot on the stone. “Come,” he repeats. 

I force a few steps, focusing on keeping myself steady. Somehow, I manage to avoid glancing down at Oswin’s blackened body.

“This year would be nice,” the captain mutters.

He swings away from the doorway, joining his comrade. I glance back at the empty interior of my cell, the only place I can recall living in. The lines on the wall may not be much, but they are a part of me, something I created.

I turn and take the final few paces, exiting the cell. It’s pointless to be so sentimental about it all. I finally have my chance at freedom, restricted and tainted as it is.

“Alright.” The captain gestures into the dark corridor. “Let’s get out of this damned awful place.”