Chapter 12
“Hold close to your morality.
For when this life is over,
kindness or cruelty will find you in either the Realm of Remembrance
or the Sea of Sorrow.”
- The Old Book
“Don’t go all quiet on me now, not when we were having so much fun. Please keep talking. It’ll make ripping out your tongue even more enjoyable,” Balor snickered.
I gripped the fabric of my pants, needing something—anything—to hold on to as adrenaline coursed through my veins once more.
I was stuck somewhere between fight and flight, leaving me paralyzed.
I took a deep breath and pushed my nerves to the pit of my stomach. He wanted me to tremble, to stutter over my words. I refused to give him that satisfaction.
“Normally, I would oblige since you asked so politely, but I’m not feeling up to chatting. Instead of continuing our little song and dance, how about you leave before the commander catches you?”
Balor bellowed out a cruel laugh, and I tensed even more. Panic bubbled up inside me, and the feeling of impending doom was heavy on my chest.
“Look who’s begging for the commander to come and protect them,” he mocked. “Too bad he’s not here to save you this time.” His lip, which I had previously split, opened again as he bared his teeth at me.
Balor charged, and my feet uprooted only moments before he struck me.
I ran as fast as I could from the camp and into the chilled darkness. I could hardly see anything, but I felt comforted knowing that Balor was in a similar position. If I could hide for long enough, then maybe he would grow bored and stop pursuing me.
Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, I tripped over a large rock and fell. I tumbled down the hill, scraping my arms. I heard Balor’s maniacal laugh in the distance. The sound of his voice grew louder as he drew closer.
I was lying on the Ground, feeling like a crumpled piece of parchment while screaming inside, telling myself to get up.
Get up.
The words were both mine and someone else’s. I felt a flood of energy wash over me as I struggled to stand. It was almost as if I were being picked up. The feeling followed me until I was upright and stable.
“Where are you, you little rat?”
He was very close now.
I ran again, but this time I circled back toward the camp. If I made it back, surely I would be safe. The other Veiled Ones didn’t want me dead.
They needed me alive for something.
I saw the lights of the camp coming back into focus—and then I felt myself get yanked back by the hair at the nape of my neck.
The tip of an icy knife caressed my spine.
“Now tell me—how should I kill you?”
He twisted me to face him. The blade traced my cheek, opening a thin line. Blood mingled with the single tear I couldn’t stop. Balor leaned in, licking it away. I gagged as his grin widened, tearing his wound even more until blood oozed down his chin.
“Sweet,” he murmured. “Sweeter than I imagined. I wonder what the rest of you tastes like. Flesh boiled down—would you make a decent stew?”
He snipped a lock of my hair and shoved it into his pocket, chuckling.
“Or maybe I’ll just see what you’ve got in here.” His knife tip pressed against my abdomen, hard enough to sting. “I love the stringy bits.”
Go for the throat. The voice inside me snapped. Now.
I clenched my fist, gathering every scrap of strength, and drove it into his jugular. Balor gagged, stumbling back, clawing for air.
Grab the knife.
I lunged, but he was faster. His hand closed around my throat, squeezing until my vision blurred. The knife hilt dug against my ribs, his weight forcing it there. My lungs screamed. I kicked—he twisted, my strike landing on his thigh instead of his groin.
Time was running out.
So I prayed.
I prayed to any deity listening for help. I knew it was a stretch. While the gods enjoyed their reverence, they were not liable for our lives. Their primary purpose, just like every other god in the universe, was to maintain our world’s delicate balance.
However, at that moment, I felt like someone had answered.
A shiver ran up my arm, power surging through me. I raised my fist and elbowed his throat. This time, the impact was far more intense than the last. Balor stammered backward, releasing his grip on my neck and dropping the knife. He fell to his knees and wheezed.
Everything was hazy from the loss of oxygen to my brain. I pushed through the dizziness and quickly picked up the knife, wobbling as I found my footing.
When I raised my arm to strike, I memorized the look of fear on Balor’s face.
It was more satisfying than it should have been.
A part of me faltered, knowing that taking a life would follow me forever.
But logically, I knew—it was me or him. I moved to plunge the knife into him, but a strong, assertive voice stopped me before I could.
“That’s enough,” the voice demanded.
I looked over and saw Rowan. He was standing with his arms crossed, observing us like bickering children. He was wearing his mask again and had an emotional wall erected around him.
I was speechless.
Rowan said he would protect me, and yet there he was, stopping me from finishing what Balor started. Had I been a fool for trusting the word of a Veiler? The answer, of course, was yes, but some part of me had been hopeful.
“I think you’ve made your point,” he said, looking at me. “Balor, I trust you’ve learned your lesson? Because the next time you attack this woman while under direct orders not to, it will cost you more than just your pride.”
Balor pushed off the Ground to stand, still clutching at his throat. My pride flickered at the sight of his pain. He deserved worse for his cruelty, but I could settle for matching purple bruises around our necks. The others would learn I wasn’t so easily taken down.
“Balor, return to camp.”
“Yes, sir,” Balor grumbled. He stole one last glance at me and curled his lip. I ignored his sneering and looked to Rowan, who was observing Balor sulk with every footstep back to camp.
Once Balor was out of earshot, Rowan faced me.
“Are you alright?” His voice held a slight tremor, which he quickly tried to mask by clearing his throat. But that didn’t erase the fact that I’d heard it.
“How much of that did you witness?” I squinted my eyes at him, fruitlessly attempting to gauge his expression in the darkness.
“Most of it,” he said flatly.
“And you stood by and just watched?! He could have killed me!” I shrieked into the night, not caring who heard.
“I know, but he didn’t.”
“You vile, lying, monstrous piece of filth!” I spat at his feet. “So much for not wanting to watch everyone die.”
“Death is inevitable sometimes.”
“You are so contradictory, and I’m done trying to understand why.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t try to. Maybe you won’t like what you learn if you do.”
“I already know that you’re a Veiler, and that’s about the worst thing that there is.”
“Maybe,” he shrugged.
“This entire conversation is pointless and not worth my time.”
He stepped closer.
“Last time I checked, you were directly disobeying orders. Shouldn’t you be in your tent with the others? By the way, smart move having that boy make a run for it as a distraction.”
“Not quite smart enough,” I muttered. “I got caught.”
“What was your plan? To run off in the middle of the night without food, water, or a blanket?”
“Is that what you think I was doing?” I crossed my arms and glared at him.
“Is it not?”
“No, it wasn’t. I left to find you.”
Rowan stared at me for several moments, trying to decipher whether what I told him was the truth. When he found what he was looking for, he started back toward the camp.
“Follow,” he clipped.
I hurried after him, rushing to keep up with his quick pace.
“Aren’t you going to take my weapon?” I said, clasping the knife tightly at my side.
“How do you expect to fight without one?”
When I didn’t reply, he let out a small sigh and stopped to look at me.
“You won it, so keep it.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll use it?”
“I expect you to.”