Floor 1: Chapter Ten - The Fallout

The streets blurred together. Cobblestone, brick, shadow, none of it made sense anymore. My world had narrowed to the ache in my legs and the weight of Val’s arm across my shoulders.

He was heavy. He’d always been heavy, broad-shouldered, dense, and built like a damn siege tower, but now he sagged like wet stone. I didn’t know how we were still upright. I could hardly think straight, but there was one place I knew could help, one place I could still find through my blurred vision.

Eshlyn can help him. I know she can.

My right leg buckled again, thigh screaming with every step. I ignored it, ignored everything but the lantern, the wood sign, and the small foggy window of The Witches Brew up ahead.

Almost there. “Come on, Val, help me out a little,” I winced through breaths.

Val made a sound, a grunt, low and sharp. I pulled harder, dragging him those final steps. I don’t know who pushed open the door. Maybe me. Maybe him. Maybe the universe finally gave us a break, but the shop bell rang like a scream. We staggered halfway through the doorway before the warmth hit me like a slap of herbal steam. A blur of shelves lined with bottles and glowing jars. I heard the dreadful catch of gasps, footsteps, and shouting. If any customers were inside, I didn’t notice them.

Selene’s voice rose first. Eshlyn’s followed, sharp and scared.

I felt Val’s weight shift in the doorway. I tried to brace him, but my leg gave, and the world tilted sideways. I hit the floor on my side. Something cracked. Probably not bone. Maybe my pride.

Eshlyn shouted, "Gods, Remy!"

I couldn’t respond, not completely. It was like my breath had gone shallow, but I managed. “Help. Val. Please,” Hands were on me before I could finish. Soft ones. I blinked. My mind was hazy, but I saw her face. Hair pulled back in an elegant braid, eyes wide, scared, and angry.

“Remy, your head!” She was already pulling my cloak aside.

I’d almost forgotten that I’d taken a slice somewhere up there. “Don’t…” My voice rasped. “Val first. He’s worse.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, not cruel, just urgent. “This is not the time to be noble. You’re bleeding profusely.”

Selene knelt beside Val, already slicing the laces of his armor. He groaned but didn’t resist. His eyes were glazed and hollow.

"Hey," I whispered, tapping him on the leg. "Stay with me."

He didn’t answer.

“Val, please say something.” I urged with rising panic.

He didn’t.

“I need the cleansing salve,” Eshlyn called out to Selene, who added, “And the silverleaf; that bolt was tipped with poison.”

Poison? I tried to sit up.

Eshlyn shoved me back down with a hand to my sternum. “Move again, and I’m tying you to the floor.”

God dammit. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

“You’re concussed,” she hissed through her teeth.

My heart ached with every touch. I didn’t deserve it. The care. The tenderness. I wanted to protest, to tell her to stop, but my head was throbbing, and my vision thrummed at the edges.

Selene’s hands were fast. So were Eshlyn’s, even if her fingers were shaking.

She pressed a soaked cloth to my head, sending a touch of burning pain through my skull before the relief seeped in behind it.

I placed my hand over hers. “Eshlyn, I… ” I tried to speak, but a lump swelled in my throat. It was all too much. I lied about doing errands. I avoided her this morning. I jumped into that sewer knowing it was a stupid, stupid idea. Val got hurt because he stayed behind me. Worse of all, I sacrificed that innocent store owner. I threw them to the wolves. Xolob would have made it if I’d let them. I stole from them. I caused their shop to burn down. I didn’t just choose who got to live. I killed them. I killed them because the alternative was Val. I killed them because I was selfish and couldn’t bear losing him.

Eshlyn met my eyes as my mind churned through it all. She was beauty, peace, and care, and I didn’t deserve any of it. I wanted to cry, not because of the pain, not even because I was scared, but because they were both here. Helping us. Helping me… And I didn’t deserve it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was the only one supposed to carry the risk.

No one asked what happened. No one said Xolob’s name. I wondered if Eshlyn even knew them, maybe Selene. I hoped they didn’t. God, I really hoped they didn’t.

I missed that arrow in the warehouse. I’d decided we should hide under the tarp. I’d told Val to wait when we had the opportunity to ambush them in the sewer. Every decision, every miss, blew up in my face, and now we were here.

---

...

Time passed in strange shapes.

I didn’t black out, not exactly, but the world smeared like I was drifting underwater, watching everything unfold from behind a fogged pane of glass.

Eshlyn was still with me. Her hands were steady now, but I could tell they’d only recently stopped shaking. I had more abrasions and random cuts than I knew about. Every time she leaned in close to clean another wound or smooth healing salve over broken skin, I wanted to say something, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Just stared at the cracked wood ceiling and let her work.

Val was awake now, only a few feet away. He had managed to prop himself on the bench in the corner. He winced when she poured cleansing tincture over the wound in his side. Didn’t make a sound. His jaw just tightened, hand flexing once, before falling again.

Selene worked on him in silence, brisk and professional, even as he muttered his usual deflections, telling her it doesn’t hurt. That he’s had worse. That he was fine. She ignored every word.

I glanced at him, but he didn’t look at me.

Eshlyn pressed a dry bandage to my forehead and tied it with a whisper of fabric against my skin. I flinched, more from the quiet than the pain. It felt like I should say something, but she hadn't asked me anything. Not one question. Not about the injuries. Not about what we’d done to come crawling through the door like a couple of corpses. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

I doubt she’d be looking at me with such grace if she did. If she knew what I’d done. The cost to make it here. The cost for Val’s life I had forced on someone else without even a second thought. My breathing came shallow. My limbs ached. I felt like a bleeding wound pretending to be a person.

She didn’t step back when she finished. She just stayed there, allowing my head to rest on her thighs, eyes watching mine.

I looked up at them. At the beautiful emeralds that made my chest ache. Please don’t look at me like that. Like you care. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed myself to stand, but it was too fast.

The room tilted, and her hands were instantly under my arms, catching me. “Remy! You need to rest.” She pleaded, trying to pull me down again.

“I have to go,” I insisted.

“You can hardly walk.” She tried again.

“Thank you… For helping us. I’ll pay for all of it. I just…” I blinked hard, shaking my head. “I just have to go.”

Eshlyn's expression was unreadable. She didn’t plead or accuse, just nodded slowly. “Your cloak,” she muttered, offering it with so much left unsaid. I could see the grief and confusion in her eyes, like she didn’t know what, but knew something had broken inside of me.

My cloak was bloodstained and torn, but I took it anyway. I tried to say thank you. I tried to look at her one last time, but I couldn’t, so I just turned away.

Val’s eyes lifted as I passed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

I didn’t stop. Didn’t speak. Didn’t look back.

The bell over the shop door jingled like a funeral chime as I stepped into the cold evening air. It bit my skin harder than I expected.

I pulled the cloak tight around me, fingers clumsy against the frayed clasp, but it still smelled like smoke. Like blood. Like guilt. I didn’t know where I was going. I just walked, putting one foot in front of the other.

The streets were quiet. The evening bustle had already subsided. My only company was the soft drip of condensation and a few distant bird calls overhead.

My boots dragged as if I’d borrowed someone else’s legs and forgot how they worked. I reached the end of the street, turned a corner, then another, then leaned against the side of an old pillar cracked with ivy. I couldn’t breathe. My chest wouldn’t rise. My throat clamped shut, lungs feeling too small for their space. I pressed a hand against the cool stone, trying to ground myself. My other hand clawed at the cloak, loosening it. Anything to get air. I hunched over in gasps, falling to one knee against the rock.

God damn, just fucking breathe, Remy. My fingers trembled, vision narrowing. Every blink echoed that moment, Xolob’s face twisting in terror as I threw them. Their scream and panic.

I could hardly see it when I’d done it the first time, but the image was clear now. I killed them. The thought wouldn’t leave. It repeated, circling like a vulture as I pressed my forehead to the pillar, letting the cold press against the bandage and ground me.

Footsteps echoed a moment later, and I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Val stopped a few steps behind me, but I didn’t turn. The quiet held a moment before he broke it, voice just loud enough to cut through the fog. “Remy, where are you going?”

I didn’t answer, just kept my head firm against the stone, every muscle straining in silent isolation.

“Remy… This isn’t something we can run from… I… I saw what you did.”

My eyes were closed, the image of Xolob still flashing in my mind.

“...Tell me it wasn’t what it looked like.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I opened my mouth, but the words fell quiet in my throat. The hell was I supposed to say? The silence drew taut, pulling at everything inside me like a hot blade on a wound.

“Remy.” His voice sharpened slightly, “You sacrificed them. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even look back.”

It’s not like he was a saint either, but Xolob was innocent. I turned then, still leaning on the pillar like it was the only thing keeping me upright, but found no words that would leave my lips.

“...How could you do that, Remy?”

The question choked me. I don’t know. Each syllable came out hoarse. “I had to get you out.”

Val’s expression didn’t shift. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

My jaw clenched, but there was nothing to say. “I don't know… Val I… I just… I don't know.”

He took a slow step closer, and I could see it. The anger and tension in his shoulders. “Do you not?” His voice rose, just a notch. “Because I keep trying to convince myself you were desperate. That you panicked. That there was no other way.”

“I did panic!” I shot back at him. Did I?

“...But you didn’t,” he cut in, eyes flashing. “You picked them up. You aimed. You threw them to…” He shrugged, figuring it out. “...Buy time. To cause chaos. That’s not panic. That’s… Math.”

The worst part was that he was right. Val was always right. I did it knowing full well what it was doing, and I hate myself for it. I couldn’t meet his eyes, even as we stood there locked in silence.

Val shook his head, a bitter laugh scraping from his throat. “Did you ever stop to wonder if there was a better way? Even for a second?”

“There wasn’t any other way!” I shouted, avoiding his gaze. “We were out of time! If I hesitated, you’d be dead.”

“Maybe I should be!” He yelled back, every word cracking me open. “At least then I’d have gone down fighting. At least then I wouldn’t feel like…”

He didn’t have to say it. I'd flung those same words into him outside the tomb.

He turned away, just for a second, like he wanted to take it back. Like it broke something in him to say it. His voice dropped to a tremble when he looked back at me again. “You didn’t even give me a chance… I have to deal with the weight of them dying for me, and I had no choice at all.”

Just like he’d done, but worse. I didn’t just leave someone. I betrayed them. That landed harder than anything else. I looked away, down, anywhere but at him. “I know Val. I know, and I’m sorry… I didn’t know what else to do… I didn’t have a choice."

I wished he’d scream harder. Curse at me like he should have, but his voice turned soft, and that was worse. “Remy… You did, though. You chose… You chose to be selfish.”

His words bit into me like venom because I knew they were true. “I didn’t want to lose you…” I said quietly. “ ...I couldn’t.”

He stared at me. For a long, terrible moment, he just stared. The quiet between us swelled again, full of things neither of us could carry.

I stepped back… Then away.

He didn’t stop me.

---

...

The sun came and went. The light changed, sometimes warm, sometimes gray. I knew it’d been at least a few days.

The only times I left the room were to pay the bakers for my stay. Sometimes they’d give me some bread. They were kind spirits. Everyone was too kind for someone like me. I felt like a thorned rose in a field of sunflowers, pretty from a distance, but choking everything I touched.

I never showed anyone where I stayed. I didn’t want them to know. Not before, but especially not now. There was just me. Just this bed. Just the dust and the slow ache in my chest. I hadn’t bothered with candles or lighting. I ate only when my body screamed, which was mostly stale bread from the bakery. The water pitcher was half full. I didn’t care that it’d gone slightly sour. My cloak still smelled like blood and smoke. I didn’t wash. Why would I need to? I wasn’t going anywhere.

The notes trickled in a consistent flow. Slow but steady. I didn’t get one today. I didn’t know I was waiting for it until it was obvious that one was not going to appear. They didn’t seem to dissipate, so I kept them. Let them pile up in a soft heap of glowing glass and silver lettering.

Still breathing?

The shop hasn’t been the same without your scowl.

Just say something, Remy. Even if it's rude. Even a single word.

Please just let me know you’re alive.

Selene misses you.

I miss you.

I didn’t touch them, but they were there. Like proof the world hadn’t let go of me yet. No one knocked. No one called my name, but I piled them by the nightstand like tiny ghosts. The guilt never stopped. It stained my bones like rust on iron. Some nights I replayed it all, over and over, as if it’d go differently the hundredth time. Xolob’s scream, my hand tightening around their collar, throwing them to their death or worse.

I had almost drifted back to sleep when I heard a subtle creak coming from the steps. A distinct sound that meant… Footsteps. My eyes widened as I froze in position. No one should be here. I instinctively went for the dagger beside my bed, but I didn’t get up, and a soft knock echoed. Then came a gentle, familiar voice, “Remy?”

Eshlyn’s tone was tender enough to crack me open. I couldn’t speak. “I didn’t want to track you,” She continued. “I figured you’d talk when you were ready, but I had hoped you would reach out or… Something.”

I dropped the dagger and closed my eyes, hand clenching the edge of the blanket.

“I almost decided against it,” she added. “Almost.”

The silence stretched again. I hadn’t moved.

Then, softer. “I brought some tonic. Sweetleaf. And that terrible, hard candy you like.”

That made me curl up. They had similar ‘candy’ back home in five. Still, I said nothing.

“Remy,” she tried again, softer than a breath. “Let me in.”

I don’t know why I stood. I didn’t want to, I just… Did. Maybe it was the stupor, or because I wanted to know how the hell she found me. Either way, I stumbled towards the door. My legs were stiff. My head was fuzzy, but I stepped anyway, hesitated, then unlocked it.

The door drifted open a few inches as I backed up into the room.

She stood there a moment, robes dusted with the city’s fog, braid slightly windblown, eyes tired, and holding a wrapped cloth parcel. Her eyes swept over me, unshaven, more pale than my usual shade, shoulders slumped, and eyes glassy, but she didn’t flinch.

I swallowed hard, but couldn’t meet her eyes.

“You look like shit,” she said gently. A running joke I would have appreciated any other day.

I let out a breath that might have been a chuckle, might’ve been a sob, but the sound felt like sunshine through a cracked window. So I opened the door the rest of the way.

Eshlyn stepped in without ceremony, almost like she belonged there. Like I hadn’t just been hiding from the world. She didn’t say anything at first, just glanced around the small room and gently shut the door behind her.

I watched as she took it all in from my seat on the bed. The single cot with the threadbare blanket, dust-laced floorboards, crate-table, and basin in the makeshift washroom. I couldn’t help but think back to the first time we met. At the disdain on her face as she stared at my busted-up armor.

She gave everything a long look, but I didn’t catch any expression. Still, I braced myself for her comment. “Is that… The washroom?”

I exhaled through my nose. “A tin bucket and a barrel of water… It works.”

Her brow lifted slightly. “Hmm, well, I admit… The room is worse than I imagined.”

I almost felt something like embarrassment, but it was quickly overcome by the empty hollowness. “The water is decent, and there is a whole bakery downstairs.”

She walked further in, boots quiet on the warped wood. The tiny room seemed to shrink just by having her in it. Then she spotted the notes, eyes tracing the little heap of silver script on glass. They shimmered softly in the dim light as she paused beside the nightstand, a quiet constellation of all the things I hadn’t said. She didn’t reach for them, just stared for a moment, then glanced back at me. “So you did get them.”

It took a moment for me to reply, “Of course.”

“And you kept them,” she said softly.

I looked down at the dusty wood floor, “Didn’t have the focus to dispel them.” A moment passed. “How’d you find me anyway?” I asked because I had to say something, anything to fill the space.

“It’s not foolproof,” she muttered, turning toward me, “...But if you’re close enough, I can trace your aether-signature. Just like I can send you the notes.” She paused a moment, then asked. “Does that bother you?”

“I think so, yeah.” I tried to smirk, but it came out crooked.

She tilted her head. “Planning on running off again?”

“Figured you’d think so,” I muttered, trying to lace it with sarcasm, but it came out dull.

She didn’t smile. “Why?”

That one word hit harder than it should have. I looked away. “Because… That's what I do.”

She stayed quiet and still as a painting. “You think I expect that of you?” She asked, voice low, but not accusing.

I pulled in a shallow breath, jaw tight. “You should.”

Eshlyn’s brows pulled in just slightly.

I tried to smirk, failed, and let it fall off my face. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what… ” I swallowed without finishing.

“No,” she said softly. “But I’ve seen what it’s done to you.”

The weight on my chest threatened to break free at the smallest expression, but I held it back and just replied, “Yeah.”

She took a slow step forward, careful, like approaching a cornered animal. “Well, at least you’ve got this,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the room. “A bolt hole above a bakery. A dagger under your pillow, and a pile of glowing notes you won’t read.”

“I read them.” I don’t know why I needed her to know that. I just did.

“Well… I didn’t come here to make you talk.” She didn’t smile, not really, but something softened in her jaw. “I came because I didn’t want you to sit in the dark and convince yourself no one was here for you.”

Something twisted like a knife in my chest. “Eshlyn… I… I don’t know how to be around people right now,” I assured her. “Not after…” My throat closed up. I didn’t finish. I couldn’t.

Eshlyn let the silence hold for a moment before saying, “Then don’t. Just let me stay.”

The simple words nearly broke me. I hated the fragility, like the shame of being so close to breaking, added to the weight of it all. “Eshlyn… Please don’t be nice to me, please just…” My breath caught. I closed my eyes, fists clenched hard enough to hurt. Anything to keep from boiling over. I looked down at the floor, attempting to find something to distract me. “I don’t deserve it,” I whispered. “Not anything, but especially not from you.”

“I am afraid you don’t get to decide that,” she said, gently. “Not for me. Not right now.” Her tone wasn’t kind to be sweet. It was kind because she meant it, and that made it so much worse.

“I can’t, Eshlyn… I just… ” I paused, voice shaking. I stopped myself, biting down on the words so hard it hurt. It was like anything I said threatened to crack me open.

She stepped closer then, reaching out to place the wrapped cloth parcel on the nightstand beside the pile of notes. Then, quieter: “I’ll go if you want me to, but know I will be back tomorrow, and the next day, and then the next. I don’t need you to say or do anything, but I am here for you, whether you want me to be or not."

That was it. That was the final thread snapping. My legs folded as I sank from the bed to the floor, chest tight with too many words I couldn’t say. A tear for each of them rolled down my face.

She didn’t move right away. Just stood there with her hands folded in front of her, waiting.

I didn’t say stay, and she didn’t leave.

---

...

The next morning, I woke to the scent of steeped sweetleaf and the quiet creak of floorboards.

Eshlyn was still here. She’d made a nest for herself in the far corner, her back against the wall, half-tucked into what had to be the most extravagant bedroll I’d ever seen. It had deep violet fabric embroidered with gold thread, rolled edges, and was lined with something that had to be silk. It looked warmer than my entire room. She must’ve bought it after that freezing night in the woods. It didn’t belong here, not in a room with warped floors and a tin washbucket, but somehow, she didn’t look entirely out of place. She had a book in hand, something academic, no doubt. Her braid was looser than usual, a few strands escaping down her collar.

She didn’t glance up right away, but I knew she was watching. “You're awake,” she stated, turning a page delicately.

My voice came out rough. “So I am.”

She tilted her head just slightly. “Good. You were beginning to smell like self-pity and mildew.”

I made a sound, not a laugh, but something close, then sniffed. Damn. I am rancid. It’s not like I expected company… Or any other reason to bathe. “Tryin’ to tell me I need a bath?”

Her mouth twitched. “Maybe just for the spores. Though if you’d rather not, I can harvest them soon.”

I paused a beat. “You’re killin’ me, Eshlyn.”

“Am I?” she asked lightly. “Maybe start with some tea, then?”

I shifted to sit up, and immediately regretted it. Every muscle protested like I’d been a corpse coming out of a coffin.

She noticed, but didn’t comment. Instead, she reached for the mug beside her and held it out. “It’s not hot anymore, but it’s sweetleaf.”

I stared at it for a second before taking it. My fingers brushed hers, but I didn’t let myself flinch away. “I forgot how annoying you can be.”

“No, you didn’t.” She stretched out her legs slightly, still wrapped in that absurdly regal bedding.

“Is this your way of helping?” I asked, sipping the tea. It was strong and not overly sweet. Of course, it was perfect.

“One of them,” she said. “I considered bursting in and forcing you to work on your casting, but I wanted tea.”

“So this was for you, huh?” I looked down at the cup, unconvinced.

“It was, but I’ve had my fill, and it's grown cold, so all yours.”

I didn’t respond right away, just took in the rest of it with a few long gulps. “I’m going back to bed.” A faint cloud of dust rose as I plopped back down on it.

“Very good, I’ll get to harvest those spores after all.” She said blankly.

UGHH… “Fine… I’ll take a bath, but then I’m going back to bed.” I looked at her, but she didn’t respond. Somehow, I was glad she didn’t.

The silence stretched again, but this one didn’t hurt as much. I didn’t deserve her, but I guess some part of me was glad she was here.

---

...

The time passed in fragments.

I slipped in and out of sleep like falling through thin curtains. Dreams didn’t stick, just a haze of memories I didn’t want and thoughts I couldn’t finish. Every time I opened my eyes, Eshlyn was there. Sometimes I’d acknowledge her, and we’d speak briefly before I’d drift off again. Once, I woke to find her reading, curled in that ridiculous bedroll like royalty slumming it in my crumbling world.

She didn’t look at me, didn’t speak. Just turned the page slowly, her eyes scanning every line like the tower outside didn’t exist. Next time, she left the book closed and placed something near the edge of the bed, a plate, still warm. Bread. Soft fruit. A small sliver of cheese wrapped in waxed cloth.

I didn’t eat it right away, but when I finally sat up, I found my cloak folded neatly over the crate I used as a table. It smelled faintly of lavender and something sharp. Somehow, she’d washed it.

My armor was propped against the wall, wiped down, straps mended. The basin in the washroom had fresh water. A clean cloth rested beside it with a bar of soap I didn’t own.

Subtle. Very subtle.

Next time I woke, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, trimming herbs with a small, curved blade as if she wasn’t watching, but I knew she was.

I thought it might have been the next day, but I wasn't sure. I stretched, winced, and muttered, “I know what you’re doing.”

She didn’t glance up. “Do you?”

I plopped back down with a grunt. “Mhhmm.”

She smiled faintly. “Then stop me.”

I didn’t answer, just shook my head.

---

...

It was dark again the next time I woke. The kind that makes confessions easier to say and harder to regret. My eyes shifted towards the cracked window to take in the soft moonlight.

I let out a long sigh, still on my back. The floor creaked as I sat up on the edge of the bed, the blanket pooling around my waist. Eshlyn was still awake. She always was. Sitting by the little crate we used for everything, meals, notes, her endless pile of books. The only other light came from the soft orange glow of a lamp she must have brought. It flickered against her braid as she poured two cups of something warm.

“Do you ever sleep?” I asked with more curiosity than intended.

“Of course, though it seems I require much less beauty sleep than you do,” she murmured without looking up. She’d been jabbing me with those lame quiffs every time she got the opportunity.

“Beauty sleep, hmm?... I guess it hasn’t been working then?” I shot back with a tinge of sarcasm.

I noticed her eyes shift up from her book as she cocked her head to the side. “Funny. You’ve been taking it in droves, yet you're still a talking corpse.”

A smirk grew on my face staring at her resting behind that book. Finally, I let out a soft, breathy chuckle. A similar sound escaped her lips as she lowered the book to her lap. Dammit, Eshlyn. You really got me to laugh.

I moved onto the floor then, staring at the worn grains of the floorboards before letting out another long sigh. “Eshlyn… Have you ever done something that scared the shit out of you… Not because you regretted it, but because you didn’t?”

That got her attention. Her fingers stilled on the cup, eyes flicking up to meet mine from across the room. She didn’t answer right away. Just studied me with that slow, analytical gaze like she was watching a wound shift under pressure. “Yes,” she said finally. “Once.”

That surprised me, but I didn’t ask what it was. Instead, I added, “I keep waiting to feel… Something worse. I feel like shit, sure, but it’s like… It should be more. I keep thinking, maybe the real weight hasn’t dropped yet. Like it’s still circling overhead, and the scary part is… Maybe I want it to.”

“Maybe it will,” she affirmed, tone surprisingly light.

“Great.” I gave a bitter smile. “Love that for myself.”

She stood and crossed the room in a few soft steps, then eased down beside me. Her face was only lightly visible in the moonlight and the small golden hue of the lantern. She passed me a cup on the way, the steam curling faintly from the rim. Warm enough to be fresh. It wasn’t tea, though. Broth, maybe. I didn’t ask.

I didn’t know where I was going with this conversation, but I continued it anyway, “What does it mean when you choose to do something… Wrong… Evil even… And it hurts, and you feel terrible about it, but at the same time, you’d do it again.”

Eshlyn went quiet for a moment. Then, softly voiced, “Hmm… I think it means you’re still human.”

“I’m a half-elf,” I cut in, needlessly.

She looked at me like I said something stupid, “You know what I mean.”

I did. So I just waited for her to continue.

“...It means you’re not naive to the cost. That the part of you who knows what’s right did not die the moment you chose otherwise.” She turned her cup in her hands, eyes flicking over the surface like it could spell the answer for her. “It means there was something important enough that you were willing to become the villain in someone’s story, maybe even your own.” Then she met my eyes through the low light in the room. “And now you have to decide if you’re willing to live with that, accept it… Or if you want to retreat into someone who would choose differently.”

The weighty words somehow hit me without all the emotion that usually encapsulated them. I didn’t respond right away, just let the silence fill the room again. Heavy but free. Finally, I broke it, more honest than I’d ever been before, “I wouldn’t want to make that choice again. I would hate myself all the same… But I’d still do it. I’d choose it, every time.”

I didn’t expect her to say anything. She didn’t. Just sipped from her cup and looked at me with curious eyes. There was a long pause before she finally went on, “I think Val would, too.”

I blinked, startled. “What?”

She didn’t look at me. Just stared forward, voice quiet. “In the tomb. When he forced you to leave. When he made the choice for you. I think he’d do it again, even if you’d hate him for it.”

“I… Yeah… Maybe... I guess.”

She nodded slightly, confirming her own thought. “Feel free to correct me. You were angry that he left me, sure. But also because he took that decision away from you, even if your choice would have been to die, perhaps needlessly, at least it was yours. Maybe he knew that’s exactly what you would do, and he couldn’t let you.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. She finally turned her head, gaze meeting mine. “I don’t know what happened, but from what I can tell, it seems to be similar.”

My throat tightened. I didn’t speak. I already knew. She was just brave enough to say it.

“I remember what it felt like,” she continued. “Realizing you two wouldn’t leave without the other. That no one was going to make it unless I did something drastic, and so I did.” Her voice sat heavy, but it wasn’t bitter, at least, not exactly. “I wasn’t trying to be noble or sentimental, but I was the only one left who could make the right decision. So I did. I had to.” She looked away again, exhaling slowly. “And for a little while, I was angry about it. Not at you, or him. Just… The moment… Because none of us had a choice, not really.”

The low light and the night air softened the blow, but that struck something deep in me. A quiet corner I’d kept locked up. Her fingers brushed lightly against mine. It was a soft, grounding touch that I couldn’t help but lean into. I laced our fingers gently before looking away. “Eshlyn… I did something bad.”

She squeezed my hand softly. “Do you want to tell me what?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to… I don't know if Val will ever forgive me. I sure as hell don't think I can forgive myself.”

We sat for a while before she replied with something I wasn’t expecting. “Thank you for sharing that with me… Would you like a hug?”

I nodded, letting my shoulder lean into hers.