Isaac was mixing the soup with his gold spoon.

  What soup it was stopped mattering a while ago; it could have been green, yellow, or brown, or something else. It could have been a porridge. He made little waves with his spoon and little vortices, and then watched the meat or carrots or whatever move around at his command. When he got bored, he lifted his gaze. He hadn’t stopped mixing, not since the Demons carelessly dirtied his sleeves with royal blood, not even when Thomas Hammer ran after them, not when the castle started crumbling from sudden bursts of water. He kept mixing, his eyes fixed on the snowstorm outside.

  The snowflakes were sometimes moving slowly, showing off their edges and ornaments, sometimes rapidly, as if in a rush to finally make it to the ground. Isaac also liked standing firm on the ground, but that was becoming more difficult with each day. Commotion, death, philosophical questions to think about but never to solve; the three things he hated most became his everyday when Diane Hunster decided not to make the decision.

  Or was it even before? Was it in Carcer, when I lied for her?

  He had thought that Diane had it all under control. But control, in the real sense of the word, was a mirage. No one was ever in control. And he was getting too tired of that. He just wanted to go back to his garden, tend to his flowers, and watch butterflies play with his fingers. Instead, he was in Iceleus with bloody sleeves and bodies of people he didn’t care about enough to wish dead.

  Florians never wished anyone dead, of course.

  Isaac yawned.

  What a wonderful day for an afternoon nap.

  He loved sleeping in his garden. When he closed his eyes as he did right now, he could imagine it perfectly: every single color, from red to blue to orange to pink to lilac, all of them blended in a blurry sea of magnificence that at times made him sneeze, a sea that tickled his fingertips with its softness and gentleness as he lay on the grass, like a true king, on a warm day in early summer, with the breeze caressing his skin and his bare feet tickling the green sea that lulled him to sleep. Those were the days he longed for; nothing more and nothing less. There was nothing for him in this war. He didn’t care about freedom or justice or death or life, anything other than his garden filed him with a sense of alienation he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

  It wasn’t always like this. But I can’t do anything about it. I love her. I know I do. I don’t know why I do. But I know I do. I love her even when she makes me evil like this.

  He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. He wasn’t mixing anymore because he felt exceptionally sleepy. He was aware that if he allowed his eyelids to rest for a moment someone might mistake him for a corpse. But he didn’t care too much about that either; they would realise their mistake soon enough. So, he prepared himself for a little nap, when Thomas suddenly burst into the room.

  “Isaac!” he called out, out of breath.

  “Yes, Thomas?” Isaac replied, his eyes still closed.

  “Uhm,” he stuttered; Isaac could feel him nervously running his hand through his hair, “what are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” Isaac replied.

  “So,” Thomas stuttered again, “so, Elaine went a bit crazy.”

  Isaac was still leaning back. “I assumed so.” Thomas’s fidgeting disturbed him. “What?”

  “What?”

  “What do you want to tell me, Thomas?” Isaac spelled out, a little annoyed. He wanted to be left alone on this road to self-discovery, though he knew everything well enough.

  “Nothing,” Thomas blurted out too quickly. “Nothing, I just wanted to see if you were okay. A lot of things… fell apart, like the ceiling and everything, and there are lots of sharp objects in floors and ceiling and those sharp objects can cut throats and… all.. that.”

  Isaac opened his eyes and looked to his left, at Thomas. The expression the Flamer wore was far beyond his usual anxiousness and confusion; he looked truly terrified, and there was no way such terror would not ruin the mood of a Florian. “What happened, Thomas?”

  Thomas had trouble swallowing his spit. “Oh, yeah, I’m just looking for Kyla.”

  “Why?”

  “I just need help with something.”

  “I can help you.”

  “You can’t.”

  Isaac stood up and Thomas took a few steps towards the door. “Why not?”

  “You just can’t.” He tried to smile lightheartedly. “Well, if you don’t know where she is…” Thomas awkwardly waved and stormed out of the room.

  “No, Thomas, wait!”

  I wonder if that was when I began to feel it, this emptiness.

  Thomas was practically running away; but that was impossible to accomplish since he didn’t know where he was going. Isaac grabbed his bicep and forced him to come to a halt. Thomas was looking over Isaac’s head as he faced him, and Isaac had to lightly slap him on the cheek to get his attention.

  “Thomas, what happened?” Isaac realized he felt more alive in that moment than he had felt in months. But why?

  “I think I killed the Swan,” Thomas blurted out.

  “What?” Isaac let out, his brain sending buzzing signals to his ears and his sight getting blurry.

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  “I,” Thomas hesitated, then leaned forward and whispered, “I think I might have killed the Swan. So, please, help me find Kyla.”

  Isaac nodded. “I’ll help you. Where are they?”

  Thomas sighed. “I can’t…”

  “Thomas, I don’t think this is the time for that.” Isaac turned around slowly. “I’ll heal them. Where are they?” he whispered.

  “But Diane said…”

  “Diane?” Isaac let out.

  “Yes, when we came back from Carcer. She said we can’t have you healing people left and right which is why she refused…”

  “Thomas,” Isaac hissed, “I really don’t think it matters what Diane Hunster thinks. If she has objections, she can come and tell them to me. Until she does…”

  “Alright,” Thomas stopped him, a bit more composed now. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and said, “Alright. But you can’t tell Elaine.”

  Isaac stayed silent. Thomas grabbed his shoulders so Isaac could feel the strength in his fingers that were ready to break him in pieces. “Isaac,” Thomas said, looking into the Prince’s eyes, “you can’t tell Elaine. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” Isaac said. Thomas knew there was at least a fifty percent chance that the Prince lied, but he didn’t have a choice. Kyla, as capable as she was and as safe as she made him feel, couldn’t do what this Priest could: he could, it seemed, perform true miracles.

  So, the two rushed back towards the room where Thomas had talked with Elaine and George, stepping over rubble and ignoring the commotion caused by some Iceleans breaking into the castle on the ground floor. Sofia was lying unconscious in the middle of that half-demolished room with two holes in the roof, so the snow was falling around her making little heaps that looked like the remains of a snowman.

  I don’t want to be evil.

  Isaac knelt next to her. “What happened?” He was gently tracing her face with both his hands.

  “I… She scared me so I just… I forgot… And I punished her in the face. But I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise! I just forgot about my strength… And I heard a snapping sound and she fell and I couldn’t wake her up.”

  “The snapping sound,” Isaac said gently, even smiling a little, “was probably her cheekbone. You also broke her nose. Eye socket bones, of course. And you did some damage to her muscles and nerves.” He looked at Thomas’s pale face with light amusement. “But she’ll live. She just fainted.” When he looked back at Sofia, when his hand covered the injured part of her face, only then did he realize what this situation meant: Sofia, that rude, evil woman who hated Diane more than anyone in this world, was a member of the Six. Did she know? Was that why she hated Diane so much? So, did that mean that Diane knew as well and never said anything? Why?

  “Why is everything so complicated?” Thomas let out, sitting on the floor now that his legs finally gave out.

  Isaac smiled. “I’ve been wondering the same thing for quite some time.”

  “You know what the worst part is?” Thomas asked. A sweet smell of watermelon spread across the room when Isaac started fixing Sofias bones.

  “What?”

  “None of us are happy.”

  Isaac snorted. “We don’t exactly live in happy times.”

  “I know but… We’re all supposedly chasing our dreams or doing what we feel is right and good, so, why is not a single person at peace?”

  “Not exactly peaceful…”

  “Yes, but… Aren’t you supposed to feel at least a tiny bit relieved when you think you are doing the right thing?”

  Isaac looked back at Thomas, his hand still covering the right side of Sofia’s face and spreading the fake smell of watermelon that he despised. “Do you think you are doing the right thing?”

  Thomas looked back with a stern face. “I do. I am sure now.”

  Without missing a beat, Isaac replied, “I don’t.”

  Thomas narrowed his eyebrows. “Then, why are you doing it?”

  Isaac smiled. “Without Elaine, I am lost.”

  “That’s not good,” Thomas replied, the grimness of his tone making Isaac chuckle.

  “You don’t say!”

  “She’s not a good person.”

  Isaac turned back around. “And who is?”

  “I don’t know. But I know that anyone who stubbornly insists on killing millions of people is not a good person, regardless of their cause.”

  “Sure,” Isaac replied.

  “It’s really complicated. I thought about it a lot and I changed my mind a lot. But, Isaac, her way just doesn’t make sense to me. Even if it does, it still doesn’t. Even if I’m wrong, even if what I’m doing will never make me feel at ease, even if I destroy this little peace that we supposedly have, I just can’t make it make sense.”

  Isaac’s neck cracked when he stretched it. “And Diane’s way makes sense?”

  “A little bit, yes. I can understand the message behind it, and I can stand behind that message. They both want the exact same thing, but their way of thinking is too different, and that’s what bothers me the most. Why can’t we just reach an agreement and work together? Why does it have to be one against the other? Is that what Clara Heal wants?”

  “Could be,” Isaac commented briefly. He didn’t want to travel any deeper into the cave that was his subconsciousness, to the place that housed his ethics and morality in fear of finding things he didn’t like. It was easier this way. And it had to stay that way. Every time he roamed he got a step further away from his love. “But really,” he mumbled, “why is everything so damn complicated?”

  Isaac felt Thomas shifting behind him, then heard his footsteps as he walked towards him and knelt next to Sofia. Isaac didn’t realise how cold he was until he felt Thomas’s warmth and then, for no longer than a second, he remembered Diane Hunster. Was this what made her foolishly believe that the world can be saved? This naive warmth he emitted even as he watched the present fall apart; this clumsy attempt at cruel manipulation only reserved for royals. Was that why? Because he wasn’t a prince? Because he didn’t have to grow up watching all that splendor just to come to the realization that it was all full of worms? Nothing in Isaac’s life was ever real, except the flowers he grew. But Thomas had his mother. She was a liar and a thief, yes, but she was also ready to destroy the world just to make her son safe. Isaac’s mother would’ve never done such a thing. She was a queen.

  But it made no difference still. A loving mother can’t win a war. And the more Isaac observed Thomas as he rambled on about stupid things, he was sure that Elaine had them in the palm of her hand. In the end, they were all just in the palm of her hand. So, wasn’t it better to be on the right side of history?

  “Thomas,” Isaac interrupted Thomas’s monologue. “I’m done here. She’ll wake up soon.” He dusted off his silken pants while Thomas examined Sofia’s face like he could see under her skin.

  “Are you sure?” the Flamer asked.

  “Of course,” Isaac replied with a smile.

  Pitiful creature.

  “Thank you!” Thomas’s eyes lit up like he didn’t hate the young woman he almost crippled. “Remember,” he continued with an abundance of grimness in his expression, “you promised…”

  “Yes, yes,” Isaac dismissed him. “I remember. I’ll see you around.”

  Only a person slightly stupid in their innocence, a person like Thomas Hammer, could allow themselves to add something so outrageous. “And Isaac?”

  “Yes, Thomas?”

  “You are not a bad person.”

  Isaac’s pupils were suddenly flooded; luckily, Thomas couldn’t see him. Isaac forced his lips to curl upwards and with that motion opened up his throat enough to reply, “I’m glad you think so.”

  Do you like Isaac?