Ashley’s POV
Freya had shut herself in one of the tiny rooms in the cottage, sealing herself away from the world. I had knocked gently first, trying to get her to respond, but all I received in return was silence. I could make out the soft sounds of her breathing, ragged and trembling, as if she was trying to keep herself from falling apart. I yearned to console her, to say she was not alone in this, but I was smarter than to try to get her to talk before she was willing. Some injuries were not of the flesh; they ran deeper, to the soul itself. I moved away from the door with a soft sigh, leaving her to her sorrow. I knew it too well. I had lost so much in such a short space of time, and I had known what it was to want the world to go away, at least for a little. But I could not think about that now. Someone else needed me.
I went into the other room where Steven was lying sleeping-or was meant to be sleeping.
But the instant I entered, I found him trying to rise, his face contorted in agony, sweat beads appearing along his forehead as he rested heavily on a wooden stick for support.
In such a serious case, after the intense combat he endured severe injuries in his body; one was yet to achieve recovery of its wounds. All the movements created noticeable sharp waves in his body while exerting pressure on him to stand-moving. I rushed to him without any type of second thoughts, tossed an arm around him to balance him before he dropped. “Steven, stop,” I pleaded, my voice filled with worry. “Where are you off to? You are still weak and your wounds have not even begun to heal yet. But instead, in a burst of annoyance, he pushed me away. The push was not hard enough to cause pain, but firm enough to make me step back. “Leave me alone!” he shouted in a raspy voice.”
I froze, shocked by the venom in his voice, but more so by being able to feel the pain beneath, underneath that, helplessness, rage turned inward.
Steven gripped his staff, literally, and tightened his knuckles into it so that the skin turned white. He wouldn’t even look at me, shuffling, legs trembling beneath him. Every step was agony-like, painful, but he just kept moving, as if to stop would be defeat.
“Steven…” I attempted once again, my voice softer.
But he didn’t stop; he wouldn’t even respond.
His shoulders were tense, his breath labored, and for a second, I knew he was going to fall over. I had to step up and assist him, but I didn’t. Not because I wasn’t concerned, but because I saw something in his eyes-something that made my heart constrict.
It wasn’t just his body that was broken. It was his spirit.
Steven had never been weak. He was always the one everyone leaned on, the one who was standing despite all the times he was knocked down. But now… now he was the one who was struggling, and he hated it.
I swallowed hard, my fingers clenched into fists at my sides.
Where are you trying to go?” I spoke quietly, attempting to remain calm myself. “You can hardly stand, Steven. This is not going to help anybody.”
He did not respond right away. He was breathing erratically, his chest heaving in spasms. Then much more quietly, he replied, “I just cannot stay here. I have to do something.”
I moved another step closer, tending to him as if he were some injured beast. “You are doing something,” I told him. “You’re alive. That’s sufficient for the moment.”
His face contorted, and he shook his head. “No, I am not. Freja is dead.” The final word broke, and my chest constricted at the burden it held.
I reached out and touched him, my hand falling tentatively on his arm. He did not brush me away this time. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on the ground, his whole body trembling-not with pain but with naked grief.
“I know,” I said softly. “And I know it hurts.”.
For the first time since I entered, he glanced at me. Unshed tears were in his eyes, though he wouldn’t allow them to fall.
“I should have been stronger,” he whispered, hardly loud enough for me to hear. “I should have been able to save them.”
I shook my head. “You did everything you could, Steven.”
He drew a shaky breath, and his shoulders sagged barely. He still didn’t trust me, but at least he wasn’t pushing anymore. At least, for now, he was alive.
And maybe, just maybe, it would be sufficient.
——–
James’ POV
A home that had once been the place of sanctuary now suffocated me-the walls, the air, all the pillars this house had were burdened by the gravity of the betrayal. All these years of fighting for a family, of standing by my sister, thinking of our cause-today I had barely made it to that point where breathing the same air as her irritated me.
I paced with purpose, my mind set on escaping it all. My hands were quick as I threw clothes into a bag, not bothering to see if they were folded or even the right clothes. The quicker I was outta here, the better.
The door creaked open at my back.
I knew exactly who this would be even before I turned around.
Maya.
She just stood there, looking at me. She was pale to the point of illness, her face gaunt, and fatigue hung on her frame. But perhaps most telling was the empty sleeve where her arm once had been-a reminder, physical as could be, of what this war had taken from her.
A part of me wanted to feel something for what she had lost. But I didn’t. Not after what she had done.
I was looking for you, she told me, and her voice was softer than I’d ever heard. But then her eyes fell to the open bag on the bed, half full of clothes, and her eyebrows furrowed.
Are you going somewhere? she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.
I didn’t say anything. I just kept packing, my hands clutching the material so tightly my knuckles turned white.
She moved nearer, her voice increasing in annoyance. “I’m speaking to you, James.”
Yet still I said nothing.
Silence between us was a knife waiting to cut.
Then she took a sharp breath, and the next words were spoken in a challenge.
“Is it because I killed Freja?”
I stood frozen.
Something inside me snapped, and the next thing I knew I was whirling around, my voice thundering through the room.
“I told you not to harm her!”
Maya didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her lips compressed into a thin line. “I had to kill her, James! She was the enemy!”
“She wasn’t the enemy to me!” I retorted, my chest rising and falling with labored breathing.
Maya snorted, like she was shaking her head at me, like I was the unreasonable one. “So, what now? You’re just going to leave? After everything we’ve been through? Just because I killed Freja?”
I looked her in the eye, my face hardening. “You should be thankful that all I’m doing is leaving,” I told her, my voice icy cold. “You should be thankful I’m not killing you.”
For a moment, I witnessed something break in her. A flash of something-fear, regret, even guilt. But it was over as it had started.
She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Snap out of this dream and wake up, James. Steven is still alive. We have not yet had our revenge for our father yet. And look at me!”
She raised her arm-or what remained of it.
I lost an arm, James. Get it? I’m not as powerful as I once was. I couldn’t defend myself as I once could. I need you.” Her voice softened, it was a near plea. “I need you to keep me safe.”
A bitter laugh broke from my mouth, and I regarded her with scorn. “You always need me, don’t you?
Her lips opened, but I pushed on, the bitterness of the years welling up like a marquee.
“When they don’t work out, you always come running to me.”
“When you’ve made a mess, you need me to tidy it up.”
“And like a fool, I did.”
“Every. Single. Time.” I moved a step closer, the iciness in my tone clear. “You were always our father’s favorite.”. He placed you on a pedestal, named you heir, strongest, smartest. And me? I wasn’t anything. The family outcast. The one he barely acknowledged.” Maya’s fists were clenched, but she was silent. “And after all that,” I snarled, icy anger seeping into my voice, “after you had everything, you still took what little I had. You took Freja from me. And why? For some misguided sense of duty to our cause? ”
Maya swallowed hard. “She was a threat, James. You know that.
She was my threat to deal with,” I said, my voice low. “And you took her away from me.”
There was a heavy silence between us.
I moved closer, my voice falling to an even more lethal level. “Out of respect for the blood that we share, I will not kill you. But listen carefully, Maya-if there is anything, anything at all, that I can do to ruin you, I will. I’ll make your life hell.”
Her eyes grew wider, and at last, real panic swept over her face.
“You are no longer my sister.”
I grabbed my bag, flung it over my shoulder, and headed for the door.
But before I could make another step, she darted out and caught my arm.
“James, please…”
Her hand trembled against my sleeve.
I spun around, anticipating anger, anticipating defiance. What I got was something that nearly made me halt.
Tears.
Genuine, uncontrollable tears glistened in her eyes, causing them to sparkle beneath the dim light.
“Don’t do it,” she whispered. “You’re all I have left. You are my only family. I need you, James. I need you with me. Without you… I’ll be broken.”
I looked at her, my heart constricting.
There was a tug in my heart for a moment. A splinter of what had been. All the years of running together. Times when I would never have thought twice about dying for her.
Then I thought of Freja.
I recalled her voice, the way she could always make me laugh, the warmth of her presence. And I recalled that sensation when that warmth was torn from me.
“You broke me first, Maya.”
Her grip on my arm loosened.
I withdrew my arm and turned away-my steps purposeful, certain.
This time, I was not returning.