Vaener, Ausicaa

Five sharply decisive gunshots resounded through the dark tangle of oak and pine.

Their echoes were followed by a sixth and final deafening pop.

Brenna watched in horror as shadowy bodies crumpled to the ground. The mens' cries of agony turned her insides cold. Shock and fear rooted her in place. The intensity of these emotions suspended her consciousness through this long, drawn out, hellish night like a wire strewn too taut.

Squadron Leader Ariss placed his hand over hers, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze, as though he had sensed her distress.

In time, the shrieks and moans died out. The forest fell mostly silent once more—save for the muffled whimpers of one, maybe two, survivors.

Quietly, firmly, Squadron Leader Ariss murmured to her, "Wait here with Roshe where it is safer, Miss Catannch. I must go take a closer look."

Brenna nodded in response, but her mind hadn't fully processed his meaning. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Those men were dead.

Squadron Leader Ariss had killed them without batting an eye.

The three of them were still in grave danger.

Amidst her panicked state, the prophecy that Sorcha had shared after her mother's passing flashed across Brenna's mind like a white-hot beacon.

There is a man named Ariss who may be able to help you ascend two thrones through only one war.

In truth, Brenna hadn't fully comprehended the weight behind Sorcha's words until this very moment.

She thought of the corpse-filled train they had escaped mere hours ago.

She thought of the dead bodies who now rested less than fifty feet away from her.

Brenna shivered.

It seemed the blood she had spilt tonight would only be the beginning of a crimson-soaked sea of death.

Doubt surged inside her.

Brenna wondered, then, if she possessed the fortitude to wade through even greater depths of chaos and darkness for the sake of her crowns.

How much agency did she possess over her own fate?

Was it even possible to wage war... compassionately?

She winced as a trickle of light hit her eyes. The sun was beginning to rise. Morning crept slowly but surely through the once gloomy wood. Soft golden rays chased away the indigo-blue shadows of twilight. Birds chirped. Insects buzzed.

The tranquility of the awakening forest was misleading.

From a distance, the sounds of grunts and tussling and shuffling reminded Brenna that, no matter how peaceful or scenic the trees might appear by the grace of dawn, disaster was always lurking around the corner.

Brenna's gray eyes grew wide as she saw her squadron leader, now covered in blood, as he dragged a large, weeping blonde man towards her and Roshe.

Roshe released a low, rumbling growl. He bared his fangs.

The man's blue eyes filled with terror.

Brenna's gaze dove to his feet. The stranger was barefoot. A single wool sock had been stuffed into the man's mouth, gagging him completely from speaking or calling for help. It appeared Squadron Leader Ariss had also removed the shoelaces from the fellow's boots. His meaty wrists and ankles were bound together by the thin straps like a hog tied for slaughter.

Brenna's mouth hung ajar at the sight of Squadron Leader Ariss' meticulous handiwork.

Squadron Leader Ariss cleared his throat with a grimace. "Miss Catannach, I bear fair and foul tidings. The good news is: The others are dead. Their souls are in the hands of gods now. The bad news is: This blonde gentleman right here might bleed to death before I get a chance to ask him any questions. I know you have a knack for medicine. I need you to apply pressure on this fellow's thigh and bandage him up. I think there appears to be an entrance and exit wound, so I assume the bullet isn't lodged inside him..."

She gasped, "Oh! Threads and Fate be thwarted! I must act quickly, then!"

Her sense of helplessness fell to the wayside as the urgency of the situation took precedent. Brenna moved swiftly, instinctively, as she tore several strips of cloth from her cotton undershirt to use as bandages and commanded Roshe to dig up some vallae herb.

As a child, Brenna had been no stranger to acquiring scuffs and scrapes in the wilderness. She learned early on from Lyonach that vallae possessed medicinal properties that could disinfect injuries and numb the pain. The plant grew in abundance, almost like a weed, throughout Ausicaa. Once Roshe returned with a few sprigs of the mint-like herb, Brenna plucked off the leaves and placed them over the man's wound. The blonde man eyed her warily.

"I intend to help you," Brenna assured him, "but it will hurt like the dickens. You must be brave and bear it."

With a calmness that she didn't feel at all, Brenna talked the man through every step of the process. As Brenna worked on the injured man, she felt Squadron Leader Ariss' boring into her. She glanced at him briefly. An unreadable emotion was flickering in his green eyes. She turned back to her task.

"There," Brenna exhaled in relief once she finished dressing the man's gunshot wound. "I think you will live. For now."

Squadron Leader Ariss stepped forward to gently pull her aside. "Thank you, Miss Catannach. That will be all."

The handsome green-eyed boy then turned to the blonde man and smiled as though he was conversing with an old friend.

"Listen well, my good sir, I am going to remove that filthy sock from your mouth very soon. I want information from you. If you answer me truthfully, then maybe you will live. If you refuse to speak—or if I suspect that you are being untruthful with me, then I will not hesitate to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Do we have an understanding?"

With wide, fearful eyes, the blonde man nodded empathetically.

The smile faded from Squadron Leader Ariss' face. His expression turned to stone. "Brilliant. Let us begin, then."

Brenna observed this tense exchange between Squadron Leader Ariss and their blonde prisoner with abject fascination. She could hardly breathe. This was a side of her kind, just, and brave friend that she had never witnessed before—and the discovery of it left an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sorcha's words came back to haunt her once more. Brenna thought of the demons, the ones which the old witch had held at bay for so many centuries.

They will rot the hearts of men and fester in their souls until even the greatest of kings bend to their will.

Suddenly, fiery explosives on locomotives and bloodthirsty assassins from unseen enemies no longer seemed to be the most daunting obstacle to surmount.

Now—what Brenna dreaded most was the more insidious challenge of how to keep her humanity and his intact by the end of this most trying and treacherous journey.