To Rhial

54

Vetia

Every dull creak of the house sent panic rushing through me as I sat motionless in the firelight. All of this happened because of me. I brought death into Montak's home. Montak and Lotti laid silently, asleep in their beds recovering. As much as I could fix their bodies and restore some blood, I was still beyond fatigued from it. I just had to hope the healing would be enough for them to recover. I couldn't live with myself otherwise.

Seeing them alive was all I needed. If they were alive, I still had a chance to end all of this right. And so I silently sat beside them, wiping the blood from their bodies. Tears were still streaming down my expressionless face. I didn't know what was causing my tears more; the fear that they may not wake up, or the distant sensation of Fera being slowly eaten alive by farns. I thought I'd finished her off, but she was alive for a long time. I didn't feel anything for her. She earned everything she'd gotten.

Everything hurt so bad. My head felt like it was going to burst from how much jzanmah I had used fixing Lotti and Montak, but if I went out to the barn to drink farn blood, I'd be right next to Fera. I couldn't endure the sensation of dying so close to me again. No matter how much I wanted to end the torment, I couldn't bring myself close enough to experience her emotions so directly.

The snowstorm raged all night after Adam disappeared. My fight wasn't over. I still had to ensure Montak and Lotti wouldn't be caught in any more crossfire. Diona wanted me to go back to being dead, and Fera fucked it up. If Fera didn't come back, she was sure to send somebody else to clean up the mess, to this house.

I sat still all night, glaring at the door and spinning Fera's dagger in my hands. Once morning came, I raised the dagger to my head and began shaving off my hair. Gone with the gold and glamor of Diona's whorehouse. A perk of being a fireblood was that regrowing hair was quick and didn't take much out of me. But still, I could only grow it to my neck before that fireblood peckishness returned.

"She's the last one. Diona. If we cannot kill her, she will kill us. She will learn of Fera's death. We need to go now, kill her before she knows Fera is dead and we are her enemy."

"She already knows I'm her enemy. And I'm not abandoning these two until I know they're safe."

"We are not abandoning them. We are ensuring they will be safe from Diona."

"Fera only got them because I was out killing Simira. Fuck me, I don't even remember what happened after I killed her. I just came back to my senses and I was next to Adam with all the money. What the fuck happened?! Why can't I remember?!"

"You don't need to remember. I took care of us. I always prioritize our life. You don't need to worry."

I just needed a break, something to take my mind off of it. My hands jittered and searched through my bag, settling on a leatherbound book. Simira's journal. Maybe there'd be some information about what was going on with that plan. I flipped open the first page:

I do not give this record of my enemy to you out of kindness, but necessity for the preservation of my species. There is an ideological invasion of our people to reduce every man, woman, and child to livestock. Existential erasure of all we are. There is no plot, no grand scheme. Only a timeless teacher and generations of students carrying out her lessons in the positions which rule us. I know I cannot undo what has been in play for eons, but I also cannot simply do nothing. This is a burden, a war that may span countless generations if it ever ends at all. Should you wish to live your life free of this knowledge, I do not blame you. Close this journal now and never open it again. Give it to someone who can carry this burden and free us from her whispers.

I still yearn for my own innocence. But in seeking truth, in seeking wisdom, we must abandon innocence. She is the perversion of truth, wisdom, and innocence. She is the annihilation of hope. We must first understand that hope does not exist in the mind of true evil. Evil operates on logic. A logic that can only be learned over the course of eons. She believes herself to be a goddess, a being greater than any mortal who ever lived. Going to war against her is futile, but we have no more options.