Remus almost wished he hadn’t woken up.

  He sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and squinted against the glaring light of a nearby window. Upon brief inspection, he discovered himself to be occupying what resembled an army barrack. Rows of beds, identical to his own, were placed down the rectangular expanse. Each of them housed a different patient, a plethora of bandages, medical equipment, and doting doctors filling the space in-between.

  Koa’s words returned to him, though only vaguely. Something about a medical camp. Remus must have been taken there, his three-day fiasco with Edmar rendering him utterly incapacitated. For the first real time, Remus had brushed against the very boundaries of his power as a Vanguard. A humbling experience, to say the least. He had regarded his first fight with Edmar as an intense experience, but that didn’t hold a candle to what had taken place over the last few nights.

  Physically, Remus felt only numb. Which was to say, he didn’t feel much of anything at all. He was tired – more fatigued than he’d ever imagined possible – but alive and well. In one piece, and, for the most part, recovered. He wished he could say the same for everyone else.

  A few of the more alert patients shifted in their covers. Once they caught a glimpse of Remus, a frenzy of whispers swarmed the room. The patient closest to Remus had several layers of wrapping circling around his brow. Judging by the damp gold that was bleeding through the material, he was due a replacement. That man leaned closer towards him, and, to his surprise, Remus recognised his worn facial features.

  He didn’t know them by name, and their clan eluded memory. But Remus had most definitely seen him strolling around Gold’s Bane. Now that he thought about it, he reconsigned every one of the figures that shared the space with him. They were all warriors of Gold’s Bane.

  A place that no longer existed.

  “They say I’m going to lose a leg.” The man said, matter-of-factly. “It’ll be a miracle if I can ever fight again.”

  He uttered nothing more, staring at Remus. Despite how cool the room should have been, with several of the windows lifted open, Remus suddenly felt very hot.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Sorry.” The man repeated. His eyes seemed to glaze over, as he lowered his head back to the pillow. “While you were sleeping, I was thinking of what to say when you woke up. At first I was furious at you. I wanted to make you feel bad. I wanted you to hurt. Maybe if you felt guilty for what had happened, I could feel a little better about it myself.” He rolled to the side, facing away from Remus. “Now? You son of a gun, with an expression as glum as that, even I feel bad for you.”

  The words hung in the air. Remus was abruptly aware of a dozen eyes locked on him, like arrows knocked by well trained archers.

  He could almost hear the rustling of a bowstring, and their comments soon followed. A volley of ferocity.

  “We thought we could trust you.”

  “The nurses from the Vitality Sect – they told me – they told me I might not make it.”

  The utterances all seemed to coalesce in one ugly form. Remus could feel an invisible beast digging its talons deep into his back, taking shape as his own personal tormenter. Feeding off the spite, the blame, the absolute hopelessness.

  “Please . . . please help me.”

  “You lying bastard! We trusted you, we-”

  “I don’t want to die, Remus. Tell me I’m not going to die.”

  “We trusted you, we . . .”

  The last voice broke off into a series of whimpers.

  Remus felt a colossal weight pressing him down. That invisible demon feasted on the people’s words; revelled in their despair like a king to a banquet. Remus must have been going mad, for he swore he could hear demonic, mirthful laughter spiralling out of control, filling every nook and cranny of his head. It hurt to think. He couldn’t spend a second longer in this room – it felt like being suffocated as the place was slowly filled with smoke.

  “Please.” He mumbled, clasping hands over his ears. “Stop, just stop.”

  A clanswoman flung herself to the plank floor with a rattling crash. She grabbed ahold of Remus’ bedside, pulling herself closer as Vitality clansmen all around desperately tried to get ahold of the situation. Through the dishevelled locks of her long hair, a manic, sad little smile curved the woman’s lips. “You’ll help us, won’t you Remus? You’ll make it all better? You have a plan – you must!”

  His unreal tormenter held him in a headlock, stronger than ever. Nobody else could see it. Why couldn’t they see it – the horned thing choking him to within arm’s reach of death? He wanted to scream out for help, but found it impossible to say anything at all.

  Look at what you’ve done. The dark presence whispered. These people suffered for you. They suffer for you still. For you! And you can’t even bring yourself to say anything.

  Remus realised he was hyperventilating. With all the strength he could muster, he vowed to drag himself away. Away from the deranged woman, away from the Vitality clansman sprinting up and down the crowded hall. He crashed to the ground, pulled himself to a stand on shaky feet, and limped out of the chamber.

  A doctor said something to him, but the words went over Remus’ head. Up above, his eyes were drawn to a sign that revealed the occupants of the ward: the most traumatised of the battle’s survivors. That explained his rude awakening.

  Remus shuffled out the room, placed a hand on a nearby wall for support, and fought with all his strength to steady his breathing. It was like trying to whip an animal into submission, but after a time, that invisible presence seemed to disappear. Remus stood up a little straighter, blinked a few times until his eyes cleared, and took in the surroundings.

  It was another rectangular hall, seeming to connect the various wards of the hospital. The place was somehow even busier than the chamber he had just left. Everywhere the eye could see, a dawning realisation was becoming all the more clear: the Vitality Sect had never been under such stress. Some carried injured clansmen to specialised departments. A few fatigued doctors shambled out of the building to catch their due of sleep, as new, weary-eyed doctors came in to replace them.

  Remus almost jumped when something touched his shoulder. Part of him seemed to still be in battle, anticipating attack.

  “You’re awake!” A woman suddenly said.

  “Yeah, I’m-” Remus blinked. Then it hit him.

  The clanswoman before him. With her ageing, bespectacled face, her motherly mien, and a keen eye for injury – it was Saige.

  “It’s been so long!” She blurted, bursting into a hug.

  As she attempted to crush his spine, Remus was taken aback, all the memories returning like a slap in the face. Days spent in constant pain by the hands of Edmar were made a little easier by Saige’s presence. He suddenly recalled the bitter medicine she would force him to down, the boring days spent shut inside the Carpentry Clan as he festered in rage and hatred. Rebirths had passed since then, and here he was again. Beaten bloody by that same damn tax-collector.

  For all the care he had provided to Andreas during his final days, Remus would always be indebted to her.

  “We really have to stop meeting like this.” Remus found the mirth to joke. It seemed almost rude to be jovial in such a gloomy environment. As contrasting as shooting light into an abyss of shadow.

  “Remus, I’m so sorry about all this.” Remus could tell Saige meant every word. How could he stay angry at her?

  “By the time you got here, most of the wards were full. Placing you amongst people not in their right minds probably wasn’t the best idea. Who knows what might have happened if you didn’t get out of there sooner. On behalf of all of the Vitality Sect, forgive our negligence.”

  “Don’t worry about it Saige.” All that temporary joy at seeing her again had already worn off. Now that suffocating feeling was returning – brooding shadow gathering into the invisible demon once more. “When we get down to it, all of this is really just my fault.”

  “Remus-”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “How can it not be?” Remus’ voice was strangely calm. They were dealing with the brutal facts here, the fat of emotion cut from the bone. “We can’t blame those people for being angry, after what I did to them.”

  Saige said nothing for a long time. She looked at Remus like one might stare pitifully at an injured deer, knowing nothing can be done to save them. “Why don’t I lead you to some of your friends Remus? They’ve been asking non-stop about you since you first arrived here. It would do you some good to speak with people who care about you. I know it’s hard to believe, Remus, but you can’t blame yourself for everything that happened.”

  “If I hadn’t started that rebellion Saige, tell me – would we be standing in this hospital right now? Would the Vitality Sect be working until their last breath to support an army that has been scattered?”

  She paused. “After all the impossible things you’ve been through, Remus, you still have a lot to learn. I know you’re hurt, but wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to help anyone.”

  Something in Remus’ chest tightened. That invisible entity squirmed. Self-pity? Did she not see the same devastation that he saw? The bodies up in flames for all the world to see? Remus suddenly wanted to retort with the most rude thing he could think of. Then he immediately felt guilty for how childish he was being. When had he reverted back into a hateful little boy?

  “There have been talks about revolting against Damosh for decades, Remus. Don’t think that it was only your leadership that spurred these people to sacrifice their lives and health. You are not the messiah of the world Remus. You are not a child of prophecy, or a curse unleashed upon Descent by the fickle will of creation.”

  Her words were blows to the stomach. Where was this coming from? And why did everything she say hurt him so much? Saige stabbed a knife through a weak-spot he hadn’t known himself to possess.

  “Don’t let yourself believe for a second that all of this fighting, all of this bloodshed, has come about because a seventeen year old boy holds a vendetta. You may have played a role in what has happened – fine. But let’s say you weren’t here. Do you think the world would do nothing, like sitting ducks, as Damosh continued to terrorise Descent’s greatest city? If you weren’t here, someone else would have rallied the forces that fill this hospital now.”

  Remus couldn’t think of a reply. Saige’s words were still replaying in his mind as she began relaying directions to where his companions were recuperating.

  They had their own hut, apparently. A little temporary headquarters as they assessed and debated what the next step was. Remus wondered how they could be so blind.

  Wasn’t it obvious? There was no next step. There was nothing more to be done.

  After pestering him for a while, and running some basic check-ups, Saige permitted Remus to do as he wished. He made a beeline for the nearest exit, desperate for a breath of fresh air and to be free from the stink of chlorine.

  Outside, the view was nothing if not scenic. Grasslands were a familiar carpet beneath his feet, and Remus espied green hills in the middle-distance, their craggy reaches forming a protective barrier around the quaint outpost. In a kind of lingering moisture, a faint mist hung to the place. The ghostly veil reminded Remus distinctly of graveyards, and he could imagine dozens of tombstones erected into the earth here. He made a mental note to make that vision a reality. The ashes of his soldiers floated in the breeze, carried far away to the furthest reaches of Descent. There were no bodies to bury, but it was the least he could do to commemorate their sacrifice.

  Facing the wind, cloak flapping behind him, was Koa.

  He recognised Remus from the sound of his footfalls alone, not bothering to turn around. “A sad few days for the Talents of the Future.”

  Remus murmured his assent. He was too red-faced to say anything else. Awkwardly, he walked over to the man’s side. It was early in the day, and the sun was rising in the distance. The gentle heat swept across Remus’ features, the sun kissing his brow.

  “Tell me Remus.” Koa said abruptly, staring off into the distance. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”

  He took a second to think. “I . . . don’t know. It’s a comforting thought to be sure, but I’m a practical man, Koa. Things that can’t be explained, that don’t immediately affect me – I just tend not to think about them.” He sighed. “Maybe that’s my undoing.”

  There must have been a shore of some kind nearby, for the shriek of seagulls resounded through the air. They were far from the ocean, so perhaps a lake or the like was attracting the birds. Remus tried to let the world slip away, meditating on the sound.

  “I never believed in it myself. Always thought it was just a way for people not to be so sad when their loved ones passed. A reprieve, of sorts.” Koa refused to turn around, though Remus could easily see him fidgeting with one of his fingers.

  The ring glinted in the morning light, its cracked contours completely illuminated. Only at that moment did Remus realise he had never seen Koa wearing a wedding band. Not until now, at least.

  “Yet lately, I’m left with no choice but to hope for that sanctuary myself. Endings are hard to accept sometimes. They’re uncaring, brutal things, endings. They’ll arrive whenever they wish, not caring to take notice of the moment surrounding them. Things could be good – things could be perfect – and they’ll swoop in like an axe to a stem.”

  He turned around now. For some reason, the sight of Koa crying almost made Remus stumble back.

  “I found her body while you were unconscious. She died alone under a pile of stone, protecting some children from . . . from my brother.”

  And suddenly, that demon on Remus’ back returned with full force, talons twisting deep into his soul. His chest and throat were constricted, and Remus spluttered moronically before finally getting the words out.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Why could he only offer empty platitudes at times like these?

  “I don’t know,” Koa huffed, puffy eyes venomous. “Who to be angry at. You led the rebellion, and for that reason alone, a chunk of me might hate you more than Edmar does. I would have moved mountains for that woman; still would.”

  Koa’s hands balled into fists. They were shaking.

  “Everyone I’ve ever cared about suffers and I’m forced to accept it!” He suddenly erupted, swatting at his thigh over and over again. “Elmore and Donovan died for me and Ash. But now my brother, even he’s slipping away. And the worst part is – I don’t know — gods, I don’t know if I can ever bring myself to forgive him. What was the point in any of this? Why does everybody have to die in the name of some vague war?”

  “And you.” Remus was helpless as Koa levelled a finger at his chest. “Always so self-obsessed. Either drowning in your misery or lost in your ambition. When will you stop being such a self-absorbed prick and think about the people around you!”

  Remus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I would do anything to see those people brought back from the dead Koa. Anything. How dare you suggest otherwise.”

  “Would you really, Remus? Would you really? Or would you see the blood of three more armies drown out this earth, if that’s what it takes to realise your goals? You might mourn their loss for a day or two, but then you’ll gather more cannon fodder. Move on to the next sacrifice.” Koa was barely a hair away, and Remus could hear the man’s heart beating, feel his hot breath slap against his face. “You're just as bad as the Unbounded. You’d do anything to achieve what you want, and it makes me sick.”

  Remus pushed Koa back violently. His words were a trembling, dangerous whisper. “You’re not the only one who lost people yesterday Koa. I’m grieving too. These people always meant something to me. Not once did I think of them as some kind of pawn to play with at my-”

  “My wife is dust in the wind Remus!” Koa grasped Remus by the hem of his tunic. “She died for your cause. Do you hear me? Died for you! I’ll never get to . . . to wake up to her smile again.”

  Koa was shaking now, the tears dropping onto Remus’ shirt. “That’s the difference between you and me Remus: I lost the last person in my life I truly loved – the only resemblance to a family I had left – and you? You lost a few soldiers!”

  A wave of heat immersed Remus' body, and for one terrible second, he lost control of himself. Koa was pressing against him, and, without thinking, Remus wrenched him to the ground. “Don’t you weigh your suffering over mine! I’m hurting too, Koa – don’t paint me as some kind of heartless sociopath!”

  The Foot-Soldier smashed against the ground at his feet, hard. The heat of the moment passed, and Remus immediately realised his mistake.

  Koa launched himself back into a stand, wiping a streak of blood away from his nose. He glanced at the drying Ichor left on his thumb. As if it was all the evidence he would ever need to prove he was right about Remus. About what he had become.

  “I hate you.”

  Remus was crying too now. The air became a prison of screams and shrieks, as the two men threw themselves against one another. They didn’t even bother to activate their Marks, or channel Infinity, or do anything of the sort. It was just fist-fighting.

  All of their pent-up emotion bottled over, and feelings of resentment they couldn’t express in words were imbued into each strike. Hatred was conjured up, and hatred not exclusive to each other, but it didn’t matter – all of it came pouring out. Remus thought of Edmar and Damosh as he threw and took each hit, about every damn villain or hero that played their part in the greatest tirade of existence: the Celestial War. Something told him that a similar occurrence was happening in Koa’s mind. The gods knew he had his own demons to wrestle with.

  A minute passed, but neither of them deigned to stop.

  They were too far away from camp for anyone to break up the fight, if they even possessed the power to. There was no energy from their Marks to indicate their quiet violence, nobody in proximity who could hear their screeching, nobody who could make the pain go away. Isolated from the world he was shackled to, Remus allowed his better inhibitions to break down.

  Remus didn’t know how long their scuffle actually lasted. All he could recall was how hoarse his throat felt, how puffy his red eyes became. Crying and screaming. That’s all there was to it.

  After a time, the two men suddenly stopped. Remus took a moment to collect himself, taking in the mess that had developed around them. They were covered in Ichor, dripping with the stuff.

  Koa swayed on his feet. The two of them simply stared at one another. There was a moment of indecision, when they finally saw the monsters they had become, and then the emotion was drained out of the world. They had nothing left to give.

  All of Koa’s rage suddenly slipped away from him, and he crumpled in Remus’ arms. “Octavia died! She’s never coming back! She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s. . .”

  “I know.” Remus croaked hoarsely, comforting his dear friend. “I know.”

  Koa buried his face into Remus' shoulder. Remus sighed, and as the clouds splurged open in mourning, he spotted a familiar silhouette, murky amidst the downfall. Violet perched silently on a boulder nearby. She regarded his bloody form sadly, not moving a muscle.

  They locked eyes, and with the sobbing of a broken man echoing in their ears, said nothing.