༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Vera leads the way through the tunnel, carrying both of our packs, a rope tethering me to her like a damned leash. She holds her lantern up, a crease between her brows as she traverses the endless maze. Some tunnels are collapsed and she has to find another way through, but it's like she has the entire thing mapped in her head.

It's the only thing saving her life.

Countless times I've curled my gloved fingers into fists, preparing myself to attack her, to get an arm around her throat. But then I loosen my fists, remembering that I'm only alive because of her and I may wander through these tunnels for weeks before finding a way out. The idea of that makes my skin crawl, especially as rats scurry past.

I limp behind her, keeping my lips sealed and my hands complacent. All this walking isn't helping my countless wounds though. With every step I take, I feel the tug of stitches, pain flaring, and I have to grind my jaw through it.

Pain is familiar. Pain is home.

I lift my tied hands and press them to my side where blood dampens my black sweater. The fabric is torn from where Vasio shoved a blade between my ribs. It wasn't the first blade I've had cut through skin and sinew there. My brother was fond of showing which places would hurt the most. He believed that demonstrating was the best way for me to learn, to remember his lessons.

You were made for a lot more than just survival, little flame. But it's all I can show you, the rest you'll have to do alone.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the voice. His voice. The man who didn't tell me he worked for Palmira. Who didn't tell me why the Empire wanted me. Who didn't tell me where I was from.

I grunt as that anger burns, stings the back of my throat and makes my hands clench again.

"You alright?" Vera asks, glancing back at me.

I drop my hands, a muscle under my eye twitching as I meet her stare. "How long until we leave these tunnels?" I question instead of replying to her. There are far too many answers to why I'm not alright, but none of them I want to voice. Ever.

"Not long."

"And when are you going to untie me?"

Vera stops walking and turns to me. She glances at my tied hands. "After seeing you throw fire around without using sygils, I like having your hands where I can see them."

"You're right, I don't need sygils." I lift my hands, inspecting the rope that I could burn through if I had better control of the fire within me. She doesn't know I don't have control though. "So, what the fuck is tying my hands together going to accomplish?"

"Considering you haven't burnt my eyebrows off, I'd say it's doing its job."

I snort, dropping my hands and shaking my head. "You know I just don't want to be lost down here alone, right?"

Vera pulls the rope she holds that leads to my wrists and I stagger forward, gritting my teeth as more blood trickles down my side, my black clothing hiding how severely I'm bleeding. "Just shut up and keep walking," she growls and I roll my eyes.

Boots splashing through murky puddles, black eyes peering into the pockets of darkness, I do as she orders.

I understand that burning desire for revenge, to right injustices. I even understand doing every horrible thing to get there, so Vera's actions don't surprise me. How many men did I kill in the Empire for Suri and Dax? I burnt Jile alive for his betrayal, for what he did to me, took from me. From what I've seen, Vera's actions don't even hold a candle to the things I've done.

"So, what do you know about Palmira's plan?" I ask, shattering the tense silence between us.

"Her plan for what?"

I roll my eyes. "The plan to enslave Rupteran and make certain no one can stand against her as she prepares for some war against the gods."

"Very little."

"Don't bullshit me, Vera," I growl, glaring at her back. "You've been one of her loyal soldiers for years now and I know you've killed for her."

"So have you," she retorts and I run my tongue over my teeth in frustration. "Word's already spreading about the emperor's assassination. It's sure to stir something up."

"Like what?" I snort. "It's not like the rebellion is going to take advantage of this considering they're allied with the thing they're rebelling against."

"There's more to the rebellion than just the Order."

I shake my head, tugging on the rope to get her to stop walking. I round her, meeting her eye. "You expect me to believe that the leaders in the Association didn't know about what Palmira was doing? Palmira was getting sloppy and leaving a trail, anyone could have picked up on it."

"Like your prince?" she asks, tilting her head. There's a cruelness in her gaze, a dark and cold thing born from a life of pain. I've seen it in my own gaze, in Jile's, in Palmira's. "Even if Head Master Rashida knows about what she's doing, Palmira probably has his balls in a vice. It's what she's good at."

I lift my chin, my thoughts beginning to whir again. They're pulled from the sludge of sorrow and rage and I'm reminded that there's a very real fight happening in Rupteran. "You think she could be holding something against Rashida."

"I don't know a lot about her future plans, but I know a lot about the information she acquired. My brother has been tasked to such acquisition."

"Where is he?"

"In Oranday."

I turn away from her, chewing on my lower lip. "Oranday is another part of the rebellion," I murmur, a crease forming between my brows. "But unlike Wymler, they never came to the Order."

"Because there's something going on with their leader; Princess Isadora. I don't know what, I'm not stupid enough to steal any of Palmira's letters."

My eyes flash and I step towards Vera, raising my hands. My fingertips nearly brush her throat and I curl them, wanting to wrap them around her slim neck and squeeze. "You keep bringing Ari up and I'll leave your corpse for the demons."

Vera just stares at me, not taking a step back. "If you want to get out of here before Palmira discovers I'm missing and realises we're down here, then I suggest you keep walking."

I fear my teeth may crack with how hard I clench them, but I do as she says, stepping back and dropping my hands. Killing her won't help this situation, as much as it might slake this burning anger writhing inside of me.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Light jabs into my eyes and I flinch away from it, lifting my hands to try and block the rays of sunlight. The tug on the rope forces me to lower them again and continue forward.

"Where are we?" I question as we walk through dense trees, nothing like the scraggly forests in Sharlikire.

"We're in the Midland," Vera replies and my stomach plummets to the very depths of Hell.

"Fuck," I breathe, my gaze darting around the thick foliage, my shoulders tensing.

I haven't been here in years, not since stumbling into Warroll and becoming a street rat. And the last time I was here...

Coward who ran into the ice.

The harsh voice scrapes against my ears. They've been a constant hum the past few days, whispers in the dark of my head. I've gotten good at ignoring them, but now—with memories clawing inside of me—they want my attention again.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.

"You've been here before?" Vera asks and I blink at her, but her eyes are on the trees around us and I can tell by the stiffness of her spine and how her hand stays settled on her hatchet that she's familiar with the Midland too.

I remember the Midland clearly. Where other places have been lost to the muddle of time, I'll never forget the pain I endured here. How many scars did I receive in this place?

"I used to live here," I tell her on a shaky breath.

Vera glances over her shoulder at me, shock in her eyes that she blinks away. "For how long?"

A muscle in my jaw flutters. "Long enough to know that you need to untie me."

"No," she says, yanking the rope and continuing onward.

"Vera," I say, my voice firm. I know this place, I know what nightmares lurk in the dark, what beasts call these deceptively tranquil lands home. "I can surmise that you have no intention of using the Legion's supply-lines to travel."

"The Legion of the Dead could have been infiltrated by Palmira's people."

"Exactly, which means you need to untie me."

"Just shut up and keep walking." We do, boots crunching on leaves and sticks, the air sweet with vegetation and dirt. But my body aches with how tense it is, coiled like a snake preparing to strike.

My brother reassured me that the Midland was the safest place for me, that there were more dangerous things in Rupteran than demons. I'd take walking back into the Empire over strolling through the Midland with my hands tied.

"Do you even have a plan?" I spit at Vera's back. "Or is it just to walk around the Midland like a demon's next meal?"

"We'll reach Wymler eventually," she replies. My chin jolts up and I swallow the feral growl that rises in my throat. I pull the rope, dragging her to a stop and cutting her with my black gaze.

"Untie me," I command.

She steps towards me, her lip curling. "I don't trust you. I don't trust your powers."

"Don't be so stupid," I sneer, but then I lurch back, my eyes widening.

"What?" she asks.

"Do you hear that?" I spin around, tilting my head.

"No."

"Exactly, the insects have gone quiet." The lack of noise makes my skin crawl, makes everything within me tighten and prepare for a fight.

"We need to keep moving," Vera argues, but I close my eyes and let out a breath, stilling myself.

I'm learning, slowly but surely, I'm learning. My fingers twitch, the cold air slides against my skin and then the forest opens around me. The world sings to me, a song of warning. I crouch, pressing my fingers to the soil to feel the heartbeat of the earth.

"What are you doing?" Vera hisses, her voice hazy and distorted as I reach out just as I did in the Empire.

Vibrations flutter against my gloved fingers and I follow them, holding my breath. My senses push through the generic sounds around us like Vera's harsh breathing and the breeze in the trees to go deeper.

I lift my chin, frowning as my hearing catches something. A rumble of breath, deep and even, but I feel the hunger in it. The wet slide of drool against uneven skin, the clack of teeth, the thud of steps. Something large.

No, not one thing, many.

I pull back with a gasp and jump to my feet, spinning to Vera. "Untie me," I tell her.

"No," she repeats.

"They're coming."

"What's coming?" Before I can answer, a guttural roar rises into the air, sending birds squawking to the sky. My breathing quickens as I stare into the forest.

"Demons."

Vera pulls the hatchet from her belt, her eyes going wide as she peers into the forest with me. "How many?" she asks.

"Enough. Cut me loose."

Vera ignores me and I grit my teeth, glancing around, trying to find something to free me. Vera dumps our packs on the ground, freeing herself up, and my gaze latches on my bag. There's a knife in there.

Vera tightens her grip on her hatchet and prepares for the fight ahead.

"You can't fight them alone," I tell her. I know what these things are capable of, I have the scars to prove it. And the memories. The memories of his screams, telling me to run as they tore him apart, the only thing that saved me was that icy river closing over my head.

Cackles echo around us, breaking the silence of the forest and I lower my stance, my mouth.

Vera doesn't move to release me.

Figures shift through the shadows of the trees, moving too fast to catch with my eyes. There are too many of them for Vera to fight alone, and the way they huff and snicker, they're out for blood and they've caught our scent.

I run my tongue over my teeth, frustration scratching at my gut as I twist my wrists. Things would be much easier if I had control of these damned flames.

The first demon leaps from the trees, a monstrous thing with a wide mouth and jagged teeth. Vera slashes at it with her hatchet, opening its throat with a spray of blood, an inhuman cry coming from it. The demon tumbles to the forest floor, reddened skin resembling revealed muscle and sinews of a person, but the twisted legs and unhinged jaw set it apart.

I grimace and step away from the creature as black blood oozes from its gaping throat, remembering the hallucinations that blood gave me.

More come then, cackling and throwing themselves from the trees and my eyes struggle to follow what's happening. Vera leaps into action, hatchet swinging, cutting through the screeching demons, blood sinking into the soil with a hiss.

I stop focusing on her as a demon leaps at me, teeth as long as my fingers darting for my face. I dodge its lunge and slam my foot into its leg, cracking bone and making the creature wail. It whirls on me with a snarl, eyes blacker than the abyss between the stars latching onto me.

"Come on then, ugly," I sneer, raising my tied hands.

The creature barrels towards me with a feral scream, spittle flying through the air. Teeth glint and talons reach towards me. I lurch away from its attack, rounding the creature to throw my arms over its head. The teeth snap for my arms but I shove the rope between its teeth and wrench. Rope frays and breaks, taking with it some of the creature's teeth. It howls and stumbles away and I lower my now freed hands to my sides.

The demon spins around, black blood dripping from its jowls like ink. A tongue snakes out of its mouth, licking the blood from its teeth. Its muscles bunch, then it bursts into action. I twist around and away from the slashing claws of the demon, but another one breaks from the shadows and is upon me before I can react. Lengthy teeth dig into my shoulder and I cry out as I'm flung to the ground and roll through soil.

I press my hand to my shoulder, gloved fingers coming away bloody, but then a widening mouth lurches towards my face, fowl breath wafting over me. My boot smashes into its jaw and I scramble back as the monster stumbles, shaking its hairless head. I leap to my feet, my shoulder beginning to burn and I know the demon's venom is racing through my body.

I need to get away. I'll die if I stay here.

Survive. No matter the cost.

My gaze flicks to where Vera still fights, barely managing to stand her ground against the onslaught. She'll distract them long enough for me to escape. I owe her nothing, certainly not my life.

No matter how many ways I think about it, as I turn my back on her and begin sprinting into the forest, my stomach still churns. I know it's not right, but doing what's right isn't always an option.

I sweep up my pack, grab the knife from within, and run. The demons with their focus trained on me follow, but no others.

I don't look back, just grip the blade tighter in my grip and remember that my brother filed down my soft edges for a reason.