𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀

𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

Maven

Smoke coats the trench when we arrive. There are no surprise attacks this time, but the remains of the last one make it clear this is a war zone. It is a different trench, one that is very busy. I'm ignored from the moment I take a step in it, becoming just another face. I'm not entirely sure that is a comfort, but at least I'm not scrutinised with every move.

Cal is here as well and works with General Lerolan to set out tasks and give out orders. Of course, he's not easy to look over. We arrived in different transports, but he joins me in my tasks often. Mostly though, I avoid him. It doesn't sit well with me to see him so comfortable and natural in this environment. Not when everything about this is killing me and there are eyes in every corner we walk through.

My task is fairly simple and usually unrequired, for which I am eternally grateful. I don't know whose idea it was, but it definitely wasn't my brother's. If it were up to him, he'd drag me around to fight alongside him in every battle. Brother with brother, together even in adversity.

What a pathetic little dream.

Instead, I sit at the trench floor busying myself endlessly cleaning my rifle for when it is needed. I've been appointed trench sighter, which means I stare at the burning land all day waiting for something unexpected to happen. It rarely does. And when it does, it is the other soldiers (Cal included) that do the actual attacking. I can close my eyes and numb my ears and pretend it all away. Not that it makes this any easier. One can only pretend so much.

"BOMB!"

As if on cue, a moment later an explosion goes off at the right side of our trench. There's screaming from the people that couldn't get away and soil raining down everywhere. People start running.

"Triangle formation! Go, go, go!"

"Let's get them!"

I clutch the gun close to me, even though the mere thought of using it terrifies me, and watch as the whole trench transforms before my eyes. In seconds, all the heavy artillery has been set. Magnetrons zoom past the narrow walkway putting together the more complex pieces of the weapons. Orders are given in a chaotic symphony, marked by the endless ringing of bullets.

"Calore!" I hear someone yell. "Calore, help out with the fire!"

The right side is still aflame because of the bomb despite the efforts to put it out, but I can't move. A soldier's head has just blown over the edge, staining everything a deep red.

"Calore, where are you?!" It's Lerolan. I hear his voice come closer. "Calore!"

A boy skids to a stop in front of me. I look up to meet a pair of ember eyes that I recognise. My brother looks down at me for a moment trying to figure out what I'm doing and why I'm sitting down when there are orders being called. It makes my face burn hot. He gives me a look I can't quite figure out.

"Cal—"

"I'm here!" he calls out, ignoring me and turning back to the trench. "Where's the fire?"

Lerolan appears around the corner. "There you are! Our provisions are burning up, we need to put it out."

Just then he seems to notice me on the floor. He doesn't even try to hide his bitter disappointment.

"On it." Cal turns around to the right side of the trench into the flames. Lerolan steps over me to get over the edge and into the battlefield. And I sit there still. Clutching the rifle and trying to imagine the blood and body parts that fall down are only paint and clutter.

♛

"You useless boy!" Lerolan spits after slapping me. "Next time, don't just stand by and do nothing as your team dies!"

I bite down my tongue and hold it in as he punishes me. The smoke that wafts over the trench now is only the remains of the battle. We lost one fourth of our numbers. And I did absolutely nothing. We stand now at the provisions sector; half of which is burned.

"You're lucky you've got a crown protecting you over your head, or you'd be laying dead in that field just like the others!"

I don't look him in the eye as he speaks. I can't bare it. He paces angrily around me, muttering other curses under his breath. I close my fists tight until I feel blood. I'm only grateful the rest of camp is busy away from here and not listening to this. Everything burns even more when there are eyes around. There is hardly any comfort when he sends me to the first transport back to camp. I know perfectly well he doesn't do it out of kindness.

I keep my head down in the bumpy ride back. The other soldiers in the truck are few and critically injured. Their gazes burn the side of my face the entire way. I, a healthy and perfectly capable soldier, shouldn't be here with them. He should be fighting to prevent them from getting those injuries. But here he sits instead, clutching a gun he can't even use.

When we arrive, I am once again seated on the ground in a row with the few others. The clouds move over the sun as I wait for a worker to take my firearm so I can go drown everything in a shower.

"You're back."

I finally turn my head up to see Thomas. His eyes are still as golden as ever. Bright, despite everything. It's like watching the sun peek behind the clouds. 

I attempt a small smile, but it doesn't come out as I wanted, based on the expression on his face, so instead, I lean my head on his chest. He understands of all people. He's the only one I've told.

I hate doing this. I hate fighting. I hate the price that comes with it. And it doesn't ever get better. It only gets worse. This time, I couldn't even bring myself to move. And it cost lives.

His hand comes into my hair and I feel something swelling up in my throat. "It's over," he says. "You're here. I'm with you."

For the first time in a very long time, I allow myself to cry.