When Anela fell to his knees beside us, Pero and Fratera looked at him as though he were the only light left in their darkness. As for me, I examined his body, searching for any injuries while dozens of questions burned upon my lips. My gaze caught upon his bloodied hand, and I seized it, but he pulled free with a shake of his head. I understood that this was not the time—not for him, at least.

Beret was in agony, struggling not to lose consciousness. We had spread salve across the gaping wound, but it was nothing compared to the severity of the injury. His arm had quite literally been torn off. At this rate, he would not last long. The heavy bleeding had stopped, but he needed proper care. Anela turned and twisted around to retrieve his sword—or at least, what remained of it. The blade had been shattered, leaving behind only a pitiful remnant.

“Light a fire. I will cauterize the wound. It will buy us enough time to take him back to Vileblood.”

“N… no,” Beret gasped. “I… want to continue.”

“You will be of no help to us,” Anela said firmly. “We will cauterize and disinfect the wound, then Fratera and Pero will escort you home. The three of you are going back. Selene will show me the way, and I will finish the rest alone.”

I seized his hair more violently than I had intended, but my anger was so fierce that I could not calm myself. It was no longer a painful hunger devouring my stomach, but raging flames that made me want to roar with fury.

“I would sooner die than leave you alone. They will take Beret back, but you and I are staying together. I am not letting you go,” I assured him, referring to the previous night.

Beret growled while Fratera immediately set about building the fire. Beneath all his courage, I recognized the stubborn Beret I knew. He painfully forced himself upright and took Anela’s hand in his, compelling the latter to turn his attention away from me.

“If I must die, then it will be in battle, beside all of you—not while attempting to treat a wound that will kill me regardless!” he snarled.

Anela held his gaze, and they studied one another. I understood that something powerful was unfolding between them in that moment, something beyond me. Beret was almost begging Anela, but the latter opened his mouth, and I sensed that he was about to refuse his request. Knowing that I had to support Beret’s choice, I interrupted Anela before he could speak.

“It would take us more than seven days to return to Vileblood at his pace, compared with four or five days to reach… the bloodfeasts’ lair. Beret would not survive seven days.”

“You are asking me to let him die,” Anela whispered.

“No,” Beret hissed through his pain. “We are asking you to grant my final wish. I knew what awaited me when I agreed to come. Let me die as I choose.”

Fratera took the broken blade from Anela’s hands and placed it in the fire. The Bloody Vicar, who possessed no cruelty at all, was struggling against himself. This was cruelty: asking a man who fought to preserve life to allow one to end. Though in truth, he had no choice. We had traveled by sea and spared ourselves several days of walking, but retracing our steps to Vileblood on foot would take far too long, especially with an injured man.

Anela searched for the right answer, but to him, there was none. In his mind, every possible choice must have seemed cruel, every one of them condemning Beret. Yet he surprised me again. Faced with our gruff companion’s determination, he accepted. He nodded miserably, unable to meet Beret’s gaze, but the courage required for that single gesture made me tremble. I now understood how much it cost him to agree. My fingers slid toward his, and I discreetly intertwined them.

Pero’s sobs would not cease, shattering the silence. When Fratera returned with the glowing blade, he moved Pero farther away before handing the broken sword to Anela. Anela took it, though his hand trembled slightly. I released his fingers and gently pushed the half-conscious Beret onto his back. I held him firmly by the shoulders while Fratera gathered Pero into his arms so that she could not watch what was about to happen. We had already cleared the wound to apply the salve. All Anela had to do was press the blade against it.

“Beret,” he murmured, “this is going to hurt. You may lose consciousness, but we will still be here when you wake.”

Beret answered with a growl. After one final glance in my direction, Anela pressed the makeshift “dagger” against the enormous wound. Beret tried to sit up and thrash free, but I held him firmly against the ground. His screams were so horrifying that I found myself wondering how Anela managed to continue without faltering until the entire wound had been cauterized, raw and seared. He possessed such courage. I admired him deeply.

“Prepare bandages and coat them with salve,” he ordered. “It will lessen the pain and help the wound begin to close.”

Beret had lost consciousness. His chest continued to rise and fall, but he no longer reacted.

“With the salve and cauterization, he will survive for two days. Three, if he is resilient.”

A deathly silence followed. Anela threw his broken sword aside and took the bandages Fratera had carefully covered with salve. He wrapped the wound, winding the strips around Beret’s entire torso so that they would remain securely in place. When he finished, he sank back onto the ground, his wrists resting upon his knees and anguish carved across his face. I rose to retrieve more salve and a bandage of my own, then picked up the waterskin we had used to briefly clean Beret’s wound and sat beside Anela.

I gently took his injured hand in mine and poured water over it, washing away the blood and dirt. His palm was deeply lacerated, and I could not understand how he had managed to wrap Beret’s wound in such a condition. I pressed my lips together but said nothing. In turn, I treated his injury and carefully bound it. Anela and I were accustomed to such chaos. Fratera and Pero were not. The two of them were visibly struggling to recover.

“Thank you,” Anela breathed.

I nodded, my mouth dry.

“We… We were attacked by monarchs.”

At this announcement, Fratera’s face twisted with alarm and astonishment. Pero’s sobs ceased, and she lifted her head toward Anela. He had been attacked by monarchs, yet he had returned with so few injuries.

“I encountered three of them. They have true names, like us, and they resemble us except that… their veins are visible. I mean, they are not like ours. It was as though their blood was too intense to remain concealed beneath their flesh. It was… almost beautiful,” he admitted in a whisper.

“Anela, you… you survived,” Fratera breathed. “You faced three of them!”

Anela shook his head.

“They were playing with me."