We moved through the camp together, gathering the remnants—old men too proud to run, women with fire in their eyes, youths clutching weapons they barely knew how to use. They came, not because they believed in the plan, but because they had nothing else left to believe in. That was the only kind of faith that really mattered now.
The tension grew as about fifty camp members huddled scatteredly around Veraque, waiting for her to activate her mandate. I kept glancing toward the treeline, searching for any sign of Tav's return.
It had taken us about an hour to get out of the forest on foot. Tav was on the moose, so it should be quicker, but still... My fingers twitched at my side as I watched the scouts talking between themselves, no doubt preparing to strike once they realized no one was returning to Humility's domain.
Would five minutes be enough for Tav? The thought sank like a stone in my stomach. No. It wouldn't be.
The scouts finished their hushed conversation and started walking toward us. Slowly. Strolling. Like they didn't have a care in the world. My throat tightened as I scanned the treeline once more. Still no Tav. If we were to go head-on against those scouts, we wouldn't stand a chance.
"My mandate is activated," Veraque yelled, stretching her arms outward. I couldn't see anything, but I knew it was real. Vera wouldn't lie.
I turned back to the people behind me. Defiance still burned in their eyes, but beneath it lurked something else. Hopelessness. The silent knowledge that if our plan failed, they would lose everything they had fought for.
I wasn't like them. My fingers curled into my palms. I had already lost everything. I had nothing else to live for. Not even myself.
I had woken into a timeline not my own, lost all the people I had cared about, been reduced to a shadow of my former self by the Waiting, been stripped of the only thing that had kept me going for so long.
Pride.
I chuckled, the sound dry in my throat, and caught Kuti sending a strange look my way.
Pride. That was all it came down to. Old Reygir fought because of his pride. His need to prove himself strong and incredible. Why did I have that pride? What hollow space inside me had I been trying to fill with fear and power from others?
I looked at my frail hands, the skin stretched too tight over protruding bones. I wasn't Reygir anymore. I was Bon. It was like Tav said to the man in the black coat. If pride was my only reason for living, then I hadn't lived a very meaningful life.
The people behind me had so much more than that. For better or worse, Domitia's Mandate had opened my eyes to how I stood among them—not above, not below—just one more soul trying to find meaning in chaos.
Tav, whose shoulders bent under the weight of others' burdens even as he tried to push me toward the third path.
Kuti, whose fingers trembled at night when she thought no one was looking, yet still faced each morning.
Veraque, whose voice cracked as she activated her Mandate—knowing it might not be enough to protect the people she cared about, but trying anyway.
The man with the black coat, Reni, Fisher, and all the other refugees. They were all so rich with values and struggles, trying to push forward in life.
I wasn't like that. Tav had pointed that out with the beatdown he gave me. I had proved that to myself when I couldn't move during the Flayer attack.
Now, I had to move. Because of Them.
"Where are you going?" Black coat asked, confusion lacing his voice as I took a couple of unsteady steps forward, away from our group and toward the approaching scouts. Behind me, the other refugees, Kuti and Veraque shouted for me to stop, their voices blending into a single desperate command.
I didn't. I picked up speed. The weight of not getting enough sleep was starting to catch up on me. The bruises Tav had inflicted throbbed with each step. All the physical and mental wounds I had sustained became sharper as something resembling clarity washed over me.
"I'm going to buy some time," I said between labored breaths. More importantly, I was getting up.
The figures and features of the scouts became clearer as I closed the distance between us. My spleen already felt like it was splitting, sweat pouring through every pore on my body. Fifty yards. Thirty. Twenty.
I could see their faces now. Maybe I had caught glimpses of them while in the part of Synbard that had been reclaimed by Domitia Praxis. But there was one face I remembered, and a look of recognition passed through her eyes as well.
I never knew her name, she had never told me. But I could recall the day crystal clear. Was it already a week since we had met?
"Reygir Bondyek?" She said, shock giving way to a sneer. Her bald head gleamed in the sunlight like a halo. She was the servant at the Heavenly Humility Temple, the one who had given me a broom to sweep the worshipping floor, just a day after I had woken up from Waiting.
I didn't respond. So many things were going through my head right now, so much so that it felt like it would explode.
I let my momentum carry me, twisted my arm, planted my feet on the ground, spun my torso and let a punch fly to her face.