My heels dragged a bit on the stone steps. I was mostly focused on telling my story to Miss Chin, so much so that I didn't notice the shadow of a man ahead of me. I walked right into him, making both of us stumble.
His charcoal-toned, bald head turned slightly, eyes opening in recognition.
"Oh, Edric, my boy! I was just about to go find you. Dutchmund told me you managed to survive and win your fight!" His massive hand smacked my shoulder, gripping it as he gave me a slight shake.
"I… I had to step away from the fight, you see, so I missed the climax of it. But some of my men who did watch said it was a sight to behold."
He turned fully, giving Miss Chin a nod.
"I see you've already met some of the Emberland forces, and considering you're not in chains, I'd say it must have gone well. But… I'm not seeing Kushim. Have you seen him? I asked around, but he wasn't the most well-known face maybe the name, but not the face."
My mouth tightened, and I bit my lip for a moment. I was curious how Lord Thorne wasn't locked up, but I figured he'd tell me in time. I thought about it, and decided I couldn't properly explain to him right now without crying.
"We… We are going to see him right now. Please, join us." I gave him an empty smile.
Thorne looked at me and lost his own enthusiasm. It seemed he knew something was wrong, so without asking, he simply let me lead. Stepping past him, I spotted two other men one being Dutchmund, and the other an elderly man I didn't recognize. Judging by his uniform, he was some kind of military official. He looked at me, his only reaction a slight widening of the eyes before letting me pass. I didn't see it, but it seemed he looked heavily at Miss Chin, who mouthed the words,
"I'll report to you soon."
Entering the empty arena, I felt the weight of accumulated fatigue both physical and mental and my day was far from over. I still needed to find Heather. Looking up, I saw the sky painted with the orange glow of approaching dusk.
As our small group moved closer to the center, I noticed people in armor unlike that of the city guard walking about. There weren't so many of them that I felt nervous, but it was strange to see them nonetheless. I was never particularly close to any of the guards, but I still didn't wish them dead. Most of them treated me and the other slaves fairly well… sometimes even offering us congratulations when we won our matches, usually while clutching little bags of copper or tin from their wagers.
I felt my shoulder shoved aside as a massive mound of a man barreled past me toward the center. Lord Thorne had seen the gift the princess left for me.
"Kushim! My brother! Oh gods… this is why I told you to leave, you fool!"
His enormous frame dropped beside Kushim's body, his hands shaking as they reached for Kushim's head. He pulled it close against his chest and let out a sob.
I kept walking, mostly numb by this point. I didn't have the energy to move faster, even to reach my dead friend. When I was close enough, not near enough to join Thorne in his mourning, but close enough I dropped to my knees and looked over Kushim's body.
My eyes traced him up and down, searching for what else had been done to him before they threw him down to me. The blood marks and bruises spoke for themselves he had been tortured. That became undeniable when I saw his fingertips were missing. The only wound left clean was at his neck… where I had ended his suffering.
Anger and sorrow surged in me again, threatening to overwhelm what reason I had left. I forced them down, burying them deep inside, where they could smolder as fuel for later.
It was already dark when Thorne finally looked away from Kushim. His eyes were bloodshot as he gently laid Kushim's head on his chest and rose to his feet. Slowly, he walked toward the bodies of the royals, which still lay broken on the ground. They had not been given the same care as my mentor.
I actually felt pity for them. They hadn't been given a peaceful cycle, no clean passing. I had forcefully burned their souls during the battle, leaving them nothing like the precise, merciful release I'd given Kushim.
I followed Thorne, who still hadn't spoken. We stood above the royals' bodies for several long minutes before he finally turned to me.
"You know… his majesty only commissioned the experiments as a last resort. He thought it was a necessary evil. The same with using contractors. He believed it was a stain on his reign, but still he went through with it." Thorne paused, breathing heavily before continuing.
"Our nation was going to fail regardless, and he planned to give you your freedom after the fight. I didn't even need to convince him. He was going to surrender and let Emberland punish him for what he had done. He knew the choices we made long ago weren't the right ones… but that kind of wisdom only comes with time."
Thorne locked eyes with me.
"He was sorry, you know. Even back then. He couldn't show it, but I knew him well enough. He hated what we did to you, to the others. But at the time, it was the only solution we could come up with. Our military was outmatched. Emberland had the Devas, so we tried to make some of our own…"
I shook my head and pushed past him. A bitter mix of revulsion and understanding gnawed at me. I reached down and lifted the king's body. My breath labored under the weight, but I carried him to where Kushim rested. I set him down and arranged him so his face looked at peace. I did the same for the other royals, granting them at least the dignity of rest.
Looking around, I saw the mounds of bodies, and it felt wrong to leave them where they were. So I took to the task of slowly lifting one and carrying it to the center. I didn't notice at first, but after a moment Thorne joined me, followed by Miss Chin, and soon, even the Emberland guards who had been watching.
It didn't take long before we had built a tower of the dead. I stared at it, feeling hollow, my movements guided less by thought and more by instinct. My connection to the flame was weaker now than before, but it still lingered. Reaching for it, I drew the fire forth and guided it across the pyre, setting the pile alight.