Voi looked at the rusted weapon. He looked unimpressed.

Then he looked at her chest.

"A Dot," he noted. His voice was flat. "But you are crying."

Nolif touched her face with her free hand. Her fingers came away wet. She hadn't realized. Tears were streaming down her cheeks-tears of adrenaline, of hate, of the terrible relief of being alive.

"Pikas do not cry," Voi said. "We are empty. You are full."

He walked closer. He towered over her. His blue eyes-eyes with no white, just endless ocean depth-bored into her. There was no soul in them. No judgment. Just data processing.

"You are a contradiction," Voi said. "A Semi-Pika. The universe has made a mistake."

Nolif lunged.

She didn't care who he was. She didn't care about the legends. He was judging her. He was standing while others lay down. Therefore, he was an obstacle.

She aimed for his heart.

Voi didn't draw his sword. He didn't even raise his hands. He simply shifted his weight to the left.

Nolif's blade passed through empty air. The momentum carried her forward. She stumbled, her feet slipping in the mud.

She turned and slashed again, a wild, horizontal cut meant to gut him.

Voi caught her wrist.

His grip was immovable. It wasn't tight; it was absolute. It was like being held by a statue that had decided to become flesh for a second.

"Stop," he said.

He looked into her eyes. He saw the fire there. He saw the trauma.

"You think this makes you strong?" Voi asked, gesturing to the bodies with his free hand. "Killing the weak? The unaware? The unprepared?"

Nolif yanked her hand. His grip held. She dropped the cleaver and moved her free hand rapidly, signing in the crude, desperate language she had invented in the dark of her captivity. Sharp, angular gestures.

The weak die, she signed, her fingers jabbing the air. The strong rule.

Voi understood the intent, if not the syntax. He looked at the dead officer.

"He was not weak," Voi said. "He was just a variable that was removed. There is a difference."

Nolif spat on the ground near his boots. She pointed at herself. I am strong.

"No," Voi said. "You are just in pain. I can see it. It is bleeding out of you faster than the blood from your victims. It is loud. It is annoying."

He placed a hand on the hilt of his red sword.

"Shall I end it?" he asked.

It wasn't a threat. It was a genuine question. A clinical offer.

"Shall I make you empty, like me? No more hate. No more silence. Just peace. Just zero."

Nolif stepped back. Her eyes went wide.

Die? After finally standing up? After finally holding the knife? After finally proving she existed?

She shook her head violently. She slammed her bloody fist against her chest, right over the Dot.

Mine.

"You want to keep the pain?" Voi asked.

She nodded.

"Then you are human," Voi decided. He took his hand off his sword. He lost interest instantly. "And humans are disappointing."

SCENE IV - TWO DIRECTIONS

Voi turned his back on her.

He began to walk away, heading East, past the overturned stalls, past the cooling bodies, toward the distant, smog-choked silhouette of the Capital.

Nolif stood there, trembling.

He was leaving? Just like that? He wasn't going to kill her? He wasn't going to fight her? He wasn't going to validate her existence by treating her as a threat?

She was invisible to him. Just another speck of dust in a world of ruins. Just another statistic.

That hurt more than the violence. To be ignored was to be weak. To be dismissed was to be nothing.

She ran after him. She grabbed his white sleeve.

Voi stopped. He looked down at his arm. Her bloody hand had left a perfect, crimson print on the white fabric. The red blossomed on the cloth.

"Do not touch me," he said. His voice dropped a frantic temperature.

Nolif let go, recoiling as if burned. She pointed at him, then at the horizon. I go too.

"Our paths are not the same," Voi said. "I walk to end the war. You walk to start one."

He looked at her one last time. His blue eyes reflected her wretched state-the blood, the rags, the hate.

"You want revenge," Voi said. "Revenge is a circle. I walk in a line."

He turned and walked away. Into the grey mist of the horizon.

Nolif didn't follow immediately. She couldn't. Her legs felt weak now that the adrenaline was fading.

She looked back at the market. At the dead.

She felt the Dot in her chest burning like a coal. It wasn't satisfied. It wanted more.

She bent down and stripped the belt from the dead officer. She took his pistol, though she didn't know how to use it yet. She took his heavy combat knife. She wiped her hands on his uniform.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't tell the world who she was. She couldn't scream her name.

So she would have to show them.

She started walking.

Not behind Voi.
Parallel.

Keeping her distance. Watching the white ghost in the fog.

Two dots moving toward the center of the world.
One empty.
One full of fire.

Neither looked back.

END OF CHAPTER IV