My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

Lady Meili [Namtan]

Two days later, I wished more than anything that I had never insisted on coming.

The air was sour before we even reached the camp—thick with smoke, iron, and something far fouler that clung to the back of my throat. My horse shifted restlessly beneath me, ears pinned, as if even he wanted to turn away. But I made him keep going. I had to see it. I had to know.

And then the field opened before us.

I froze.

The ground was carpeted with bodies. Dozens, no—hundreds of them, sprawled in grotesque shapes across the blood-soaked grass. Pools of red had dried black beneath their armor, staining the earth, running in jagged lines down the small slope where the battle had raged hardest. Rats scurried brazenly between corpses, gnawing at fingers and faces. Flies swarmed thick as smoke, settling on eyes that stared upward, wide and glassy, locked in terror they could no longer speak.

I gagged, clapping a hand to my mouth. The stench hit me then—rot, blood, excrement, the reek of decay that seemed to seep into my very pores.

Ray pulled his horse closer, reaching for my reins. "Don't look, Meili. Let's get through quickly."

"No." My voice shook, but I slapped his hand away. "I won't ignore them."

"They're gone," he said tightly. His face was pale, lips drawn thin, though his eyes flickered over the bodies with something sharp, like recognition. "They don't need you to—"

"They do." I swung my leg over, dismounted, and dropped to my knees beside the nearest man. His chest was caved in, his armor dented inward, his face already gray. A beetle crawled from his open mouth. My stomach churned, but I reached for his hand anyway, pressing it between my own.

"May your spirit find peace beyond this horror," I whispered, bowing my head.

I forced myself to repeat it at the next body. And the next. And the next. Each face was different, but they blurred into the same hollow stillness. Their lives had been stolen, their courage unrewarded, and if all I could give them was a single breath of prayer, then I would give it until my throat gave out.

By the time we reached the remains of the camp, my knees were shaking, and I had to use Ray's arm to pull myself back onto my horse.

The camp was worse.

Blackened tents slumped in ash and rubble, poles jutting at broken angles. Chests and barrels lay split open, their contents looted or set ablaze. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burned cloth and flesh. The banners of our kingdom lay trampled in the mud, torn into rags.

Ray swung down from his horse and stalked across the wreckage, barking questions at anyone still breathing. Most were dead, but a few lingered—injured, bandaged with strips of linen, their faces hollow with shock.

One man, half-propped against a collapsed tent, coughed wetly as we approached. His arm was bound tight with bloodied cloth, and his lips trembled as he looked up at us.

Ray crouched low. "Tell me what happened."

The man's voice rasped, barely audible. "We... we held them off for two nights. They came in waves—torches in the dark. Our arrows cut them down, but still they came. Then... then they set fire to the east flank. Smoke everywhere. We tried to regroup but..." He shuddered, a haunted look passing over his face. "The screams. Gods, the screams."

My stomach twisted.

Ray leaned closer, urgency in his voice. "And the commanders? Who survived?"

The soldier licked his cracked lips. "Most are gone. The general fell in the first charge. Men scattered. Some tried to run, but they were cut down in the woods. The rest... the rest fought until the end."

Ray's jaw clenched. "Anurak. Where is he?"

The name made my chest seize. My hands went cold on the reins.

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between us. "I don't know. He led the front ranks, pushed us into the forest for an ambush. Last I saw, he was shouting orders—then the smoke came down. I never... I never saw him again."

Before I could breathe, Ray bolted upright.

He didn't wait for another word. He sprinted to his horse, vaulted into the saddle, and spurred it hard into the trees.

"Ray!" I screamed, panic tearing from my throat.

But he didn't listen. His figure vanished between the blackened trunks, the thud of hooves fading fast. I turned back to the soldier, my voice breaking. "Thank you. Thank you for telling us." Then I kicked my horse into motion, following after Ray as fast as I could.

The forest was darker, quieter, save for the caw of crows. Branches clawed at my arms, and the mud sucked at the horse's hooves as I pushed deeper in.

Then I heard it.

A scream.

It ripped through the trees, piercing straight through my chest.

Ray's voice.

My whole body went cold.

I dismounted before the horse had even stopped, stumbling through the underbrush toward the sound. My breath came in ragged gasps until finally I burst into a clearing—

And saw them.

Ray was on his knees, doubled over a body sprawled on the ground. His cries tore through the air, animal, grief-stricken. His hands were clamped around a familiar hilt, though the blade was buried deep in the man's chest.

Anurak.

My vision blurred as tears welled hot in my eyes. His face was pale, lips blue, the sword running through his heart unmistakable—his own sword. A suicide. Ray's head tilted back, his scream echoing so loud the crows took flight above. His whole body shook as he collapsed forward again, clutching Anurak's blood stained face, sobbing so hard it broke something inside me.

I fell to my knees beside them, my tears spilling freely. My hands trembled as I reached out, gently pulling Ray into my chest, holding him tight even as his fists pounded uselessly against the earth.

"No, no, no..." Ray sobbed, his face buried against me. "Not him—he can't—he wouldn't—"

But he had.

Anurak was gone.

My best friend was dead.

And the world, already broken, collapsed around us.

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