“You can put me down, Rosslyn,” Lanson slurs, halfway on her shoulders. “I’m… I’m fine.”

It’s a lie. The bloody spots all over his chest tell her that, as much as his nearly dead-weight on her arms does.

“No.” She shrugs him all the way onto her shoulders and keeps walking. “You’re not fine, Lans.”

“Sure I am. I’m a chosen one,” he mumbles, all but drooling on her shirt. “I have to be fine.”

Rosslyn nearly burns. She glares up toward the stars, praying with all her might that the gods can hear her hatred for them. With a huff, she shakes her head and looks back at her path.

“Chosen one or not, you’ve got nearly lethal wounds all over you. So shut up and admit what you did was stupid and reckless.”

“Maybe it was,” he chuckles.

Rosslyn glances over her shoulder.

“But it worked. Now we have one less assignment to worry about.”

“We also have you to worry about now, so what about that?”

Lanson snorts, spraying blood across her shoulder and jaw. “Please. Only you’re worried about me.”

“I’m the only one that knows what you did! As soon as we find the others, they’ll-”

Before she can finish, he starts coughing and slides left. Her grip fails and she barely slows his clumsy fall to the ground. Blood soaks the grass in seconds and shoots from his lips with every cough.

“Lanson, your wounds are getting worse,” Rosslyn assesses.

“You… don’t say,” he chuckles and looks up at the sky. “Do you think… you think they’re proud of me?”

Rage makes her tremble. She takes a deep breath through her nose and shakes her head. “I don’t think they care, Lans.”

He sighs. “Maybe not, but… can’t we hope?”

She looks over as tears leak from his eyes.

“I-I don’t want all of this to be for nothing, Ross,” he whimpers.

“Oh, Lans. It’s not for nothing,” she insists, cupping his face. “We’re saving our people, Lans. Remember?”

He takes a shallow breath and coughs on another mouthful of blood. He rolls onto his side to spit the crimson liquid, then rolls back with a heavy sigh. “Ross, you… you’ve gotta keep them going.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t you dare. You are not dying on me, Lanson Ryte.”

He knits his brow and groans when she tears his shirt, revealing how much worse it is than she expected.

“Oh…” she breathes.

He gasps and trembles, shaking his head. “You have to… you have to let me go, Ross.”

“No! No no. I can help. I can fix this,” she insists and reaches for her surgical kit.

“Rosslyn, stop,” he begs, holding her hand back.

She looks at him. He’s blurry through her tears, but she knows he’s smiling. She leaves her surgical kit and turns to hold his face with both her hands. “I… can’t lose you, Lanson.”

His eyes close as he sobs and he lifts a shaking hand to the chain around his neck. “You’ll never… lose me, Rosslyn.”

A cold lump presses to her hand under his and she gasps.

“Your…”

He flashes his dumb smile and cups her face. “I lo-”

A rustle precedes the appearance of three large officers. Rosslyn screams when they grab her arms and struggles against their grips.

“Give me your sword,” one of the officers grunts, standing away from Lanson. “This one’s going to die soon enough.”

“No!” Rosslyn screams and kicks at the officer holding her back. She squirms and fights, kicking their legs until she slides from their hands. She collapses at Lanson’s side and takes hold of his hand on his chest. She strokes his hair and kisses his lips before she’s grabbed once again. He’s still smiling when she’s pulled away.

“I love you,” he whispers in her mind. Then he cringes and rolls onto his side, coughing on his own blood.

Rosslyn gapes in a silent scream when the officer behind him sends their sword through his back. Her body crumbles and even the arms holding her couldn’t keep her up for a moment. She slides to the ground, one arm still held in a big hand, and stares at Lanson’s body. His eyes are blank, like marbles. He’s not breathing.

“On your feet, rebel,” the officer holding her forearm growls.

She shakes her head, so he pulls her up over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She watches Lanson’s body dissolve into dark lily petals and float off on the wind. All that’s left behind are his clothes, which the officer with the sword gathers up.

Shock keeps her quiet for the rest of the night. As the north sun starts to rise above the trees, the officers arrive at a small militia camp. She’s dropped on the ground in front of a giant post and her hands are quickly tied behind her back.

“What have you got here?” the officer asks, but Rosslyn refuses to let the vial go.

“Leave her alone, Quid,” the officer with the sword barks.

The one at Rosslyn’s side huffs, then gets up and follows them into the camp. When they’re gone, Rosslyn sobs. She curls over her legs as her tears return and she trembles, stomping against the dirt.

“Rosslyn!”

She gasps and looks over her shoulder as a small figure slips from the bushes at the edge of the camp. “Rida.”

He nods and scurried behind the post at her back, working on the ropes around her wrists. “We have to be quick. There’s a barge waiting for us on the river. Where’s Lanson?”

She turns away, gripping the vial tighter.

Rida doesn’t stop and when the ropes fall away, he leads Rosslyn out of the camp and through the woods to the river. The barge starts to move away from the riverbed and they jump across the difference.

Rosslyn lands rather clumsily, crumbling to the floor with ungraceful sobs. She holds the vial so tightly, it hurts; and she screams. It echoes off the riversides.

Slowly, her pain shifts into rage. She pulls herself to her feet and ties the necklace around her neck as she glares at the sky.

“How’s that for a chosen one?” she growls.

She gets no response and her blood boils.

“You could at least show your faces!” she howls, stepping up to the edge of the barge. “You’re all mighty and all powerful! Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you stop him? I thought you wanted to protect us!”

“Calm your fury, Rosslyn,” booms a voice from the clouds.

“Why should I?” she retorts and opens her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

“The gods don’t choose sides,” the clouds respond.

“No. You only choose pawns. Well I won’t be a part of your game anymore!”

“Rosslyn, don’t!” Rida shouts.

“Think about your choice, Rosslyn,” the clouds warn.

Rosslyn hesitates, lifting her hand to the vial around her neck. Her chin trembles and her eyes fill. “We’ll never win if we’re playing your games.”

The clouds darken ominously.

“I’ve lost… everything because of you,” she whispers and takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to lose the rest of my family in a game played by the gods. Find a new pawn. I quit.”

She turns away from the sky as it blackens and rumbles with thunder. She looks at Rida with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Rida. I’m going home.”

His face softens and he sighs, nodding. “I understand. We’ll drop you at Kiir’s Gate.”