“She fought well.”

The voice is the captain’s, unnervingly close behind. My shoulders tense, but I don’t turn.

“I have to say, I do admire that about your Oscensi lot.” I notice a slight change in his tone, a little more care leaking into his words. “They’re undeniably brave.”

I take a slow, shaky breath. From what I know of one soldier out there, I’m sure it rings true. But the sentiment doesn’t chase away a second truth.

“You killed her,” I whisper.

“I did what I had to.”

“You killed her,” I repeat, turning to face him. The change in his voice is not mirrored in his expression, for it is blank as ever. The emotion in his eyes is still shadowed by his helmet, too dark to make out. 

I feel him examine me. I stare back, fighting the shake in my legs. The pause he leaves crawls uncomfortably across my skin.

I notice a flash of movement over his shoulder a moment before his fellow soldier pounces on the silence. “You don’t have the right to accuse us of taking lives.” She prowls forward. Her sword is sheathed again, but her hand taps suggestively at the hilt, and her glare is a weapon of its own.

I swallow. She is right, and she knows it. 

Yet there is something different about this time. I shift my gaze back to the captain, hesitating over what to say, how to voice this discontent.

“I… I didn’t have a choice,” I say eventually. “You did.”

The woman makes to reply. He holds up a hand, requesting silence, and she jerks back with a scowl.

He lets out a long sigh. “Kid, she was guarding your cell. If I hadn’t killed her, you would still be down there, rotting away in the darkness. Would you prefer that?”

I bow my head. I don’t know what I would have preferred, but if they had not come to rescue me, then two lives could have been saved. I am certainly not a worthy exchange for those lives.

“Maybe that would have been better,” I murmur.

She frowns at me, surprise crossing her eyes. The captain is motionless.

When neither of them reply, I find myself continuing. “Why are you… helping me, anyway?” It is more directed at him than her.

Slowly, he reaches a hand up and pulls away his helmet, revealing dark hair that almost falls to his shoulders. For the first time, I can make out the startling green of his eyes.

When he doesn’t speak immediately, the woman steps closer. “I have the same question, Captain.”

His eyes flick briefly to her before settling on me, their stare alarmingly intense. “You’re a prisoner of Oscensi. It’s our duty,” he says simply.

Almost automatically, I shake my head. The justification doesn’t sit right, not when I can still feel the remnants of Oswin’s life tangled in my flame. “Not necessarily.” I pull away from his gaze, looking down. “You have no reason to give me freedom.”

He barks a laugh. “I wouldn’t use the term ‘freedom’ so loosely.” Though I don’t look up, I hear his sharp footsteps. “But, well… come on, kid, look at me.”

I obey. He stands over the dead soldier, but his eyes lock to mine. “This is war,” he says, spreading his hands. “I’ve killed people. Everyone has. Even Edita over there” -- he gestures to his comrade -- “noble as she pretends to be, is quick to use that sword. You just have… an alternative method.”

“That’s because you’re from Neyaibet.” It escapes me before I can think better of it.

Another dry laugh, but this one feels more bitter. “War works both ways, kid.” He turns, stepping carefully over the scarlet stream. “Now, come. If you’re grateful for my help, you’ll follow me without asking any more questions.”

Swallowing, I nod. I hang back as Edita stalks past, her hand clasping tighter around her hilt as she passes me, before edging towards the fallen soldier. As I pass, I avert my eyes to the ceiling, not wishing to view again the sight heavy in my heart.

I stumble, and a damp stickiness, faintly warm, sinks my heel. I clench my jaw, fist curling as flames beat at my skin.

Fixing my eyes on Edita directly ahead, I focus on the change in my surroundings. We pass through an arched doorway, and I study the carvings that decorate its curve, chipped as they are.

Then I look at the rest of the room, and my heart almost stops.

These walls are just as pale as those previous, and so every droplet of blood stands out starkly, as if their very colour screams their terrible presence. It is all too easy to make out the bodies beneath, and their stained weapons, lying forgotten amongst the wreckage. Death sits like lead in the air.

The captain’s eyes find mine. His stare is pointed, commanding silence.

I take a breath, heavy with unspoken words, and he looks away. I’m not sure I want to ask anyway. All I can hope is that these deaths were not solely his doing.