Casimir

I've always believed there to be three kinds of prisoners.

The aggressive prisoner. Angry, loud, violent to a fault. Usually ended up killing themselves trying to escape. The scared prisoner. They were the easiest to crack, revealing all secrets at even the threat of harm. And then the third, the defiant prisoner. Refuses to talk, to give any information or provide any cooperation.

Each and every one brought into deserter headquarters fit into a category.

But as we filter into the labyrinth of caves just east of the forge, Elyria still secured to my chest with the dagger, I can't help but feel like an entirely different kind of prisoner.

The traitor.

I keep my chin high as my former soldiers stare as we walk through. Each and every one of them has a hand poised on their weapon, each one whispers and murmurs as we pass deeper into the caves. I refuse to look at any of them as I hold Elyria hostage and lead two shifters into the depths of their makeshift home.

The shame of this walk is greater than I could have ever imagined. So great, that the temptation to turn my dagger onto Killian or Sanaa behind my pulls at the strings inside of me. So great, that I want to sink into the ground, that I want to get to my knees and beg for Trina's forgiveness.

So great that I wonder if I made the right choice.

When I was old enough to know the truth of who I was, that I wasn't an orphan some parents didn't want, my identity as a deserter became integral to every aspect of my being.

Each step forward strips me further. Layers of my skin peel and melt off. The shame of it, the emptiness that follows, is excruciating.

If Trina is surprised by my sudden appearance, she doesn't show it. She simply greets us at the widening of the cavern, her chin raised, lips pursed and eyes harsh.

She takes several seconds to take in the scene. Her son holding a child hostage, in company with the shifter who infiltrated her clan, who fooled her.

"Casimir," she says eventually. Her tone is even. "You're back."

I take a deep breath and nod. "Yes."

She raises her left brow, head tilting slightly to the side in a way that sends a wave of shame through me. It was the same look she gave me as a young boy, whenever I made a mistake in training, said the wrong thing, had a bad idea. Always the same look.

"And you want something, I assume," she muses.

Silence passes between us. Elyria silently sobs in my arms, her body trembling. I do not let her go, she is the only reason the three of us don't have machetes slashing our backs.

"Care to tell me what?" Trina encourages.

I clench my jaw, urging the words to come out. But they won't. Behind me, Sanaa steps forward. The deserters around us all pull their weapons from their sheaths, even as Sanaa raises her arms in a surrender.

I recognise their fear, their wariness. It's the same way I felt when I first met her. A power emanates from her being. Whether admired or feared, it cannot be ignored.

"We need your help," she says, her voice softer than I've heard it.

Trina's expression does not crack. "And who are you?"

"My name is Sanaa. I come from Torinne." She doesn't share her title. As if she knows that'll only drive Trina away.

"You're a shifter."

"Yes."

"Then you are no friend of ours."

"We don't need to be friends to share a goal," Sanaa continues.

"And that is?"

"To end Ereon's reign."

Trina pauses, observing Sanaa closely. I try to read her expression, but she keeps her thoughts as guarded as her heart. "You have people in Portson," Killian says. "People who might have seen something."

"Suppose that is true," Trina says carefully. "Why should I help you?" Are you going to kill Elyria, Casimir? To force my hand?" She averts her gaze to me, eyes cold. "Go ahead."

A gasp rolls throughout the crowd, somewhere, a cry. In my arms, Elyria falls deathly still. I grip her tighter, gritting my teeth together so tightly my jaw aches.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" Trina encourages, raising her hand to inspect her nails. "We don't have all day."

At that moment, my body burns. I hate her. Hate her for turning me into someone who will threaten the life of an innocent. Hate her for making me choose between the deserters and Freya. But most of all, I hate her for knowing me so deeply despite her refusal to be a proper mother.

With resignation, I drop Elyria, my hands falling to my sides. She lets out a cry, crawling from my reach to someone in the crowd.

When I meet Sanaa's eyes, I do not see satisfaction that she was right. I do not see the desire for revenge. She wanted me to kill Elyria. Wanted me to prove that I could be who she always wanted me to be.

So all I see in her eyes is shame. Shame that I am her son.

"You're surrounded," Trina says eventually. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't burn you all at the stake."

"Because you need us, too," Sanaa says.

"I highly doubt that."

"You can no longer deny the existence of the cloud," Sanaa continues. She takes a step forward, fearless even as weapons aim towards her.

"I never denied its existence."

"You just didn't believe it would affect you," I murmur, remembering when Freya had tried to warn her. Trina looks at me, but doesn't deny my comment.

"By now, you had to have seen its destruction. The deserters have experienced it first hand. We know the last camp was affected, that you had to move. I look around and I cannot see many of the faces I grew up with. Your numbers have nearly halved since I was last here."

I divert my attention to the crowd around us, passing my eyes over each and everyone of them. Familiar faces stare back at me, lit by fire light. Some are easy to read. Some, more difficult. These are the people I grew up with. I can't let myself believe they will discard me as easily as Trina does.

"I went to Torinne," I say. "What the shifters say is true. Nobody lives there anymore. It's deserted, rendered inhabitable by the cloud. And it's happening to Elel; it's already here." Fear echoes in their faces.

"It's true." A voice calls from the crowd. Kit steps forward, one of the combat trainers. "That storm that took my brother. That took the eastern clan."

A murmur runs through the crowd. I walk back to Trina, casting aside my hate, the desire deep inside of me to please her, to earn her approval. She lets me stand right before her, the deserters around us lowering their weapons at the raise of her palm.

I meet her eye with a determined look of my own, lowering my voice so only she can hear me. "Do you remember one of the first lessons you ever taught me?" I ask. "I was only 10. And you made me go on my first mission with no training. Do you remember what you said to me?"

She doesn't answer, but I see it in her eyes, the semblance of the memory that scared me so greatly. "The enemy of your enemy is a friend," I finish. "Even if the enemy is your son."

Her nostrils flare. Firelight dances across the planes of her face, eyes drilling into mine. Finally, she stares at Sanaa over my shoulder, then Killian, a new fire setting ablaze.

"So you've come to ask what happened to that girl," she says eventually.

I clench my jaw. "You know where she is."

She doesn't deny it. "She will be your ruin, Casimir."

I refuse to drop her glare, to let her know how much her comment twists in my chest. "Where is she?"

She shakes her head. "First, you need to tell me why you want her. What it is about her that make you so easily betray your people. Your family." She looks at Sanaa. "And then, you're going to tell me how you're going to kill the King."

Freya

Lei is already asleep when I get back. At least, it appears that way. Facing the wall opposite me, the blanket pulled to her chin, eyes fluttered shut, chest rising and falling in an even pattern. She doesn't flinch when I whisper her name, my voice hanging in the air.

Resigned, I lie awake in my own bed, mind alive, humming with energy from the cave. I turn my hand over, holding it over my head. Though it no longer grows, the black markings permanently maim not only my palm, but also my wrist. A swirling of intricate spirals wrap around my thumb.

I tuck it beneath the bed sheets, both enthralled and afraid of it. Of Alaric. Of the cave. Of the energy I felt humming through my veins.

He said he felt called to that place. That the Lumin bugs fueled him. I wish more than anything that his words felt as crazy as they sounded.

I let out a deep sigh, turning over.

I don't realise I've fallen asleep until a rustling wakes me up. Groggily, I rise, rubbing my eyes.

"Lei?" She leans back, pulling her boots on. I blink to the window, where not a slither of light peeks through. "What time is it?"

"Put your coat on."

"What?" I put my legs over the side of the bed. "It's the middle of the night."

She grabs my arm, pulls me up to the window. "There."

I squint my eyes, still slightly blurry with sleep. It takes me several seconds to notice the light at the forest edge, the two shadows. It sends a chill down my spine.

"It's Hana," she says. "Her and Alaric walked past the window a few moments ago."

I shake my head at her. "So you're... what? Going to follow them in the middle of the night?"

With one boot on, she swings around to face me, eyes accusing. "I'm trying to find a way out of here." She takes a step towards me. "One of us has to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I haven't forgotten who's trapping us here." She shakes her head. "

"You told me to train with him. You told me to get him to trust me. That was your plan, Lei, not mine."

She pulls her other boot on. "It seems as though you did more than just build trust."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." I shove to my feet, eyes burning. "You don't get it. I... I'm just trying to understand this thing that's inside of me. I'm scared, Lei. Scared that I'll hurt more people, that I'll summon the cloud just like I did in Torinne. And for the first time tonight, in that cave, I... I didn't feel afraid of it anymore." She stares at my face, expression unfathomable. I even my tone, trying to reason with her. "Even if he's not on our side, Alaric is helping."

"And whoses side are you on, Freya? Because they're not on ours." She lets out a resigned breath. "I'll see you in the morning."

I catch her hand. "I'm coming with you."

She tilts her chin in acknowledgement. And as I lace up my boots and pull my hood over my head, a chill crawls down the length of my spine.