Opal is relieved when we finally reach the Jorrian’s fourth and final healing session later that week. While I’ve been present, at least, neither of them have tried to attack us again, but I can’t blame Opal for wanting to be done with them. Of course, Ragna still hasn’t allowed us to heal her arm. After Gardi’s session the previous night, Opal took me aside to inform me that if she wasn’t allowed access to the woman’s arm in the next few days, they might need to re-break the bone to set it properly. I’m sure Ragna would just love that.

  Gardi sits with their back to Opal as she works—the vulnerability of the position does not escape me. Opal’s hands glow with a golden hue as she gently presses at their tail and back; Ragna watches with unconcealed disdain.

  After a few more minutes of work, Opal stops, lowering her hands. “That should fix the worst of it.”

  Gardi begins to turn around and Opal scrambles to her feet, hurrying over to my side. But the felis makes no move to pursue her, instead rolling their neck and shoulders, as much as their bindings allow.

  They tip their head to Opal. “Thank you.” For a moment, my heart swells. They thanked her! This is progress. But before I’m given much of a chance to revel in the success, they continue. “I am glad I will have the chance to be at peak health when I am put to death. I will be able to stand with my head held high when the axe falls.”

  I gape at them, momentarily too stunned to think of a response.

  Gardi looks at Ragna. “You should accept healing, too.”

  She scoffs. “I don’t need my arm to stand proudly.”

  I shake myself out of my shock. “Opal, thank you for your assistance. You may leave now if you like.”

  She nervously bobs her head. “Thank you, Lord Fyre,” she mumbles as she hurries from the cell.

  I look between the two Jorrians, a mix of baffled and disappointed. “Why do you think we’re going to execute you?”

  Gardi tips their head, cat ears flicking. “Why else heal me but to make me presentable in public? At first, I didn’t believe you when you said you didn’t wish me dead. But then I realized that allowing me to expire in a cell, away from the public eye, would be a lost opportunity when you could otherwise use me for a public execution. Making an example of a weak and broken enemy carries less weight than putting down one who is strong and defiant.”

  I stare at them. “No! No, that’s not what I want at all! Can you really not conceive that I don’t want to kill either of you?”

  The Jorrians exchange a skeptical look.

  “Then why heal us?” Gardi asks.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” I say, exasperated. I sit down, so I’m at eye level with them. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I mean, yeah,” Ragna says. “We’re the enemy. Of course you’d want us put to death.”

  I rest my hands on my knees, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I won’t lie to you that there are many people here who would rather see you dead. They are hurting. You hurt them. But the battle is over, and killing you now would achieve nothing.”

  “Then what do you want from us?” Ragna demands.

  “Nothing,” I say truthfully. “Keeping you here is more trouble than it’s worth; I’m still trying to figure out what to do with you.”

  “Release us, then,” Gardi says. “If you don’t intend to kill us, and you don’t wish to keep us, then let us go home.”

  I grimace. “I’m afraid that’s not possible at this time.”

  “Why not?” Gardi asks.

  It slowly dawns on me. Ragna had been knocked out in the midst of the fight. Gardi had similarly lost consciousness during their fall. They don’t know.

  “Where do you think we are right now?” I ask carefully.

  Ragna frowns. “A terribly designed prison in your Fortress.”

  Gardi shrugs in agreement.

  “We don’t have prisons,” I feel obligated to explain. “This was the best we could come up with on short notice. But where specifically do you think we are?”

  “I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Gardi says.

  I massage a temple, closing an eye as I consult the Dungeon Core’s Map. The ‘prison’ is in an underground portion of the castle. The backside of the room leads into solid rock. There’s a couple bath pipes on the other side, along with literal tons of rock. We’re about half a kilometer from the edge of the Fortress.

  “I’m going to show you something,” I decide. “Because you won’t believe me if I only tell you.”

  I tap the Dungeon Core and let it know I’ve got a new job for it. The Core brightens at my suggestion; it hasn’t gotten to move a lot of rocks in forever!

  It’s not even been two weeks since we launched, I remind it. You did plenty of rock moving then.

  The Core didn’t know that forever meant two weeks.

  That’s not what I… I stop myself from going down that rabbit hole. Ready to get to work?

  The Core happily takes a bite out of the back wall, and a hole two meters across instantly appears in the stone.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ragna jerks back, hitting the end of her manacle and knocking her head against the wall. Gardi also startles.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell them, attempting to hold back a smile. “It only likes eating rocks.”

  “What in heaven’s name is this?” Gardi asks, voice quiet and awed.

  “It’s the work of the Dungeon Core,” I tell them, climbing to my feet. “It’s what helped us… well, you’ll see.” Next, I have the Core carve out the anchors where Gardi and Ragna’s chains are fixed to the floor. If the Jorrians were to stand, they’d now be dragging a chunk of stone on a chain behind them like some kind of prison ball.

  Well. I guess it’s exactly a prison ball.

  Ragna stares at her loose shackle.

  “Please do not use this opportunity in an attempt to flee or attack me,” I warn them. I flick a hand in gesture, and the Core grabs the stone at the end of their chains and slams them back into the ground. With another gesture, the Core digs them up again. It finds these directions very amusing, and is about to repeat the demonstration before I stop it.

  “If I’m forced to restrain you while you’re standing, it might do some damage to your shoulder sockets,” I say, “and I’d rather not have to call Opal back for more healing. Now.” I gesture for them to stand. “You could use an opportunity to stretch your legs.”

  After a moment, the Jorrians hesitantly push themselves to their feet. Ragna slowly stands, the rock at the end of her manacle scraping heavily across the ground and pulling her into a slouch. Gardi stands more slowly, but still staggers into the wall. They stay there for a moment, pausing to rotate each ankle. I guess it has been some time since they’ve been able to move.

  I hold up a hand, activating a Spark above my palm so we’ll have a source of light.

  “Go on,” I tell Ragna and Gardi, nodding toward the tunnel. “You two first.”

  Neither look like they particularly want to head into the pitch black tunnel that has abruptly appeared in the wall of their room, and certainly not with me at their backs. But after a long stretch of hesitation, Gardi grunts, picks up the stone-end of their chain, and steps forward. Ragna does the same, holding her anchor under her arm with her good hand. They step into the tunnel.

  The Dungeon Core burrows ahead of us, clearing a mostly straight path around some pipes. The Jorrians walk in silence, my fire casting their shadows out before them. I watch them carefully for any sign that they might turn on me, but Gardi appears too weary, frequently scuffing their feet as they walk, and Ragna’s hands are full. A small light appears ahead of us. In a few short minutes, we reach the end.

  “Be careful not to get too close to the edge,” I warn them. “If you fall, I doubt anyone will be able to catch you in time.”

  I snuff out my Spark as the ambient light takes over. Gardi and Ragna edge closer, blinking and squinting against the sunlight.

  The ocean sparkles with refracting waves, stretching to the horizon. Clouds skim over the world, some of them floating beneath us. A faint wind, dulled by the atmospheric spell, blows into our tunnel.

  Gardi lunges toward me. I summon fire to my hands as I pivot away, already reaching for the Dungeon Core—

  They hit the ground, scrambling away from the ledge. Their pupils are blown wide, all their hair standing on end. They push themself away until their back presses against the tunnel wall, where they remain, breathing hard and trembling.

  They weren’t attacking me, they were just scrambling to get away from the ledge. They’ve been so stoic before now, it didn’t even occur to me that they might panic at the sight of the drop off.

  But they had fallen through the ice. I should have realized there might be some associated trauma there. I grimace. Unsure how to address it, I turn back to Ragna.

  If she noticed Gardi’s panic attack, she isn’t showing it. She’s still standing at the opening, as still as a statue, looking out over the waves.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally croaks. “Where are we? How did this happen?”

  “We decided we weren’t interested in sticking around for your people to continuously assault,” I say. “So, we left. I rerouted the cloudstone in nearby caverns to be used as a source of lift. With its mana, Fyreneth’s ingenious spellwork, and the Dungeon Core’s control, we turned the city into a floating fortress and left the arctic behind.”

  Ragna slowly sinks to her knees. Gardi’s breathing gradually levels, but they don’t lift their gaze from the solid stone beneath them.

  “This is why I can’t take you back to Jorria,” I finally say as the silence stretches. “We’re never going back.”

  “Then what will you do with us?” Ragna asks, looking up at me. None of her previous animosity is present in her expression. She’s too shaken for anything other than shock right now.

  “When we reach land, we can let you go,” I say. “What you do from there is up to you. Perhaps you can find someone who will sail you back home.”

  Ragna slowly shakes her head, her voice faint. “I don’t even know which way that is.”

  Neither speak again after that. As I wait for them to recover, I watch them pityingly. These two waged war on our home. They hate us and everything we stand for. Yet I can’t find it in myself to feel satisfaction at their pain. I regret everything that led to this, that they are even here at all.

  Finally, Ragna stirs. She pushes herself to her feet with a pained groan, letting her stone anchor scrape across the ground behind her. She doesn’t look at me as she stops at Gardi’s side, putting a hand on their shoulder. They flinch, then blink, eyes refocusing as they look up at her.

  “We should head back,” I tell them.

  Neither respond, but Gardi climbs to their feet as well. Heads bowed, the Jorrians trudge back down the tunnel. I have the Dungeon Core re-seal the stone behind us as we return to their cell. The Core secures their shackles to the floor once more, and I’m turning to leave when Ragna makes a noise.

  “I’ll take the healing,” she says, quickly glancing away when we make eye contact. She glares at a spot on the ground. “If it’s still an offer.”

  “I’ll let Opal know,” I say. My gaze wanders over to Gardi, who still appears shell shocked. I don’t know what to say to them. It feels strange to want to comfort someone who would kill me in other circumstances. This entire situation is far too messy for my liking.

  They’re just kids.

  Before I leave, I have the Core shift the anchors once more, moving them closer so the two Jorrians are no longer kept separated on opposite ends of the small room. As I shut the door behind me, I hear Ragna shuffle over to Gardi.

  Outside, Nek is waiting for me. He locks the door, then gives me a regarding look.

  “I know,” I say. “I know. Do you think I’m being foolish?”

  “I think you are being you,” he says with a faint smile.

  I exhale a laugh through my nose. “That sounds about right. I don’t know what else to do. I just… I wish I could make everyone happy.”

  Nek grumbles thoughtfully at that. “I don’t think that should be the goal. You can keep everyone safe. And that will mean making some people unhappy.”

  Hopefully not a type of safety that manifests in ‘the Dark Lord enforcing her will over everyone’ variety.

  “I’ll do my best,” I promise him. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  He chuckles. “It’s okay to not always be at your best. And you can’t do everything yourself. That’s what the rest of us are here for.”

  Between the Jorrians and this, my emotional bandwidth feels about wrung dry. “You’re right. I just don’t want to overburden others, so I’m never sure what work is appropriate to offload.”

  “In this case?” Nek looks at me critically. “It looks like you could offload some of that stress. Would you like a hug?”

  He always knows what to say. “Yes, please.”

  Nek opens his arms, and I wrap him in an embrace, burying my face in his fur.

  He pats my back as I lean against him, and my shoulders sag as they let go of an unrealized tension I’d been carrying.

  The embrace is warm and comforting, and it causes my mind to drift to someone else I’d rather be hugging.

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