"I... Where..."
Azdin's consciousness drifted slowly, with uncertain awareness that felt like it was being dragged through layers of mud. For a moment he lay still, waiting for the world to arrange into something familiar.. but it never did.
There was something wrong with the world.
It was almost.. fading.
'What was I doing..'
His memory was blurry, as though a dark fog was clouding his mind, making it impossible to tell anything apart. Rather than wait for reality to become more recognisable by itself, he tried to force himself up instead. But that act instead proved to be futile too.
He found that he couldn't even move his body, as though a terrible weight was sat right atop of him. And as if responding to that struggle, something called out to him in a voice that was just as distorted as it's surroundings.
"...vi....e"
It came out from everywhere and nowhere at once, pressing into him from all directions as if the space itself had decided to speak. The pain it caused was terrible, and when he tried on open his mouth to scream, he found he couldn't even do that too.
It did not cease after that one time though, as it instead repeated itself over and over again, it's voice becoming more clear with every attempt to reach out to him.
"..vi ..n..e"
Until eventually..
"Vivianne."
**
The sound of a scream tore itself out of his throat as he jolted upright, lungs dragging in air like he had been drowning. For a moment, the world still seemed warped around him as his head spun, but then it quickly snapped into place.
Quickly feeling his own cold palms on his face, he calmed down as his breathing steadily grew more and more controlled.
"I'm... Alive?"
Checking his own body, he saw that he was covered in a litany of bandages. Of course, he was an Awakened, so all of his more minor injuries such as bruises had almost healed already, but the injury he got from his stomach almost being gouged out still ached and pained. That spot appeared to have been bandaged the most, too.
'My wounds were treated.. and I'm not dead or worse.. so that must mean..'
Moving onto his surroundings, he found himself resting on a bed. It was far from comfy, nor was it that stiff either, but compared to sleeping on the cold wooden floor or laying on a bed of dead leaves, it was an upgrade.
Looking around even more, he appeared to be in some kind of sleeping quarters. There were dim lights lining the walls, with dozens of other identical beds lining the room in near rows. Most were empty, and of those that were filled their habitants were still fast asleep.
He recognised them all. They were the people whom had been locked away in the lower hold, destined to be sold as slaves. In particular, they were the more frail, sick, and those who had been injured.
'We really did win then.'
That much was obvious.
The numbers had not been in their favour, and yet they won anyway. Through a combination of strategy and luck, they managed to overcome this adversity. He should've been glad with this victory, and yet he felt hollow. Whatever sense of joy he should've felt, had been completely replaced with an empty feeling, as though what he had achieved was of no worth at all.
More than that though, there was something else that troubled him.
'There's something wrong with my soul essence.'
The feeling was difficult to describe. But if there was something that he could tell, it was that it's recovery rate was far lower than it should've been. It was like he was constantly leaking a small amount of essence at a time, which was just slightly lower than the amount he recovered.
And every time it did, he felt a small pain rise from under his heart.
'I should feel more panicked about this I think.'
But he just couldn't muster the energy to even feel that right now. Instead, he just wanted to lay down and sleep even longer. The thought to do so almost took over too, but he didn't succumb.
'What happened to Hugo? We were.. I was..'
As he tried to recall that time, a stinging feeling pierced his brain. Groaning a bit, he gave up on that idea as he spotted a crutch laying right next to his bed.
'It'll be easier if I just asking him.'
He had to be alive. He was sure of it. If anyone could've survived through this, it was him.
**
Pushing the door open with his shoulder, a rush of salt and wind met him immediately. He stepped out onto the deck, his crutch striking the planks with a dull, rhythmic thud that echoed just enough to turn a few heads.
For a moment, he just stood there. Taking in the sight.
The deck still bore scars of what had come before, dark stains marking the wood red where the fighting had been at it's worst, scrubbed out but still not erased. Splintered rails had been bound together with rope and hastily hammered planks, with one section being completely unrecognisable from all the rest.
But what stood out to him the most, were the people.
It wasn't the fact that they all no longer dressed in rags, or the fact that the people who were once at each others throats were seemingly getting along now.. it was because of how little they were in number.
Including the small few whom he had seen in what he assumed was the sleeping quarters.. they barely reached 60.
Out of the 150 who had participated in that battle, only 10 had survived.
When he made that realisation, he felt slightly pained. Not only was that constant ache beneath his heart stinging once more, but he felt like a something vital had been ripped out of him too.
'I knew people would die, so why do I still feel this way?'
He had prepared himself for the deaths, and readied himself to see it through. But still, he just couldn't help but feel..
'i knew I couldn't save everyone, so if I could just save even a handful, I thought I'd be satisfied with that. But why do I still feel this way?'
It was guilt and shame. The two emotions crashed into him like a tsunami, making him drown in remorse for people he never really knew.
'If I hadn't chosen to fight, then even if they lost their freedom, then those people still would've lived.'
In a way, he had indirectly killed over a hundred people, all for his selfish goal. He felt horrible, and terribly disgusted at himself. If he just stayed quiet and followed Hugo's own plan, then maybe they all of them would've lived.
The question circled, again and again in wearing down the certainty he used to have.
A sound then broke through his thoughts. It was a clap.
He flinched, turning his head. Another followed, and then another, and another, emerging from all around him.
Azdin simply stared, caught off guard as the small gathering grew. Faces he'd seen in the hold below, he all recognised, all clapping for him with the same warm smiles on their faces. The big burly man whom Hugo had defeated in a single punch, another victim of Hugo who he had forced to collect the spoils of that battle, as well as all of the people who he had decided to share it with himself.
And finally...
The women who had tried to feed her already dead child. Overcome by that loss, she kept looking after her even if there was no point in it anymore, and that madness was very much reflected in her eyes. But now, it seemed like she'd moved on. Watching her smile at him, even if it was forced, was more than enough.
'This was worth it.'
**
Slowly he moved down the hallway. It was dim, lit only by a few weak lanterns bolted to the walls. Their light swayed with the ships motion, casting long, restless shadows that slid across the planks like they had somewhere else to be.
He hadn't made it halfway before he even heard it. The sound of two voices clashing against eachother. They cut through the stillness of the hallway, jagged and unrestrained.
Despite the fierceness of it all, it was as if a small weight had been lifted from off his chest. A wave of relief flowed into him at once.
'Those two.. they're alive.'
The two voices that argued belonged both to Hugo and Lotte. His trusted friend, and the schemer who organized this whole ordeal.
From this he felt assured once more that they had succeeded in defeating Roswell.
Hugo was plenty reliable, and capable of handling himself, but Lotte.. she was a weird one. Azdin had witnessed her effortlessly kill that Awakened with just but a single word which was terrifying to say the least. But she seemed utterly incapable of doing anything else after that.
'is that the limit of her power? Or is there something else to it? Didn't she say she was mundane too?'
Either way it was better to just keep her close. Although she couldn't fight, she was helpful in many other ways. And who knew what kind of trouble they might encounter once they made it back to land?
'Oh right, I'm here now.'
Before he realized it, he had quickly made it down to the end of the corridor, with the closed double wooden doors standing right before him.
It was time to see them again. As well as their extra guest.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open.
"Hey guys-!"