The ride was agony.

Enrick offered to hold her in his arms, like he had done to carry her away from the battle, but Aysel had insisted on riding on his back like normal-- as if anything was normal anymore. She knew she was in trouble as soon as she went to wrap her legs around him; her knee hurt so much she could barely move it, but she bit her lip and told him to go. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood as he started to run, but she did not cry out, not even when his uneven steps jostled her knee so much it felt like it was sloshing around inside her tight cloth wrappings.

She tried to focus on the sky instead of on her broken body. It was brighter now. The fire illuminated the smoke clouds from below with its harsh orange glow, turning the sky into a roof of rock over her head. It bore down on her like the weight of her worry-- if her parents had survived, if Dunyasha was hurt, and, although she didn't want to care, what would happen to Enrick.

His steps were not nearly as graceful as Dunyasha's but they were still familiar as he carried her through the trees. But every step reminded her that she was riding on the back of a murderer, a monster by any measure. He had betrayed her and Dunyasha. He was the reason her brother was dead. He had murdered hundreds. And while a part of her, some primal part, clamored for his blood, another part wanted to hold him and keep him safe from harm.

She pushed that part down. There was no room for mercy in a war.

The low drone of an ancient chant echoed through the trees as they neared the battleground. Every beat pierced her heart, and she stared at the sky, willing her tears not to fall while she was still on Enrick's back. But when the smell of smoke and blood told her that they had arrived and she let her eyes drop, she stopped caring. She could only weep at the sight.

The red haze had finally dissipated, letting her see the full horror of the scene. She stared at a mountain of bodies shrouded in flame. The crackling fire illuminated glassy eyes, bashed-in faces, slashed abdomens, ripped throats as it fed off the charring remains of those who had been on the bottom of the pile.

Oh Ancient Ones, it looked like half of her village was burning.

Aysel released her arms from Enrick's shoulders and slid off his back. Her knee buckled and she gasped with pain, but she limped forward anyway. She needed to see the faces. She pushed past the red-cloaked figures that stood weeping and chanting around the fire, and walked so close the heat was almost unbearable. Were her parents in this fire? Was Dunyasha? Her eyes leapt from face to burning face, searching desperately--

"What are you doing?" Enrick asked. "You shouldn't be walking on that leg. We need to find a Letter to heal you."

She shook him off. "My parents-- Dunyasha--" she choked through her tears. The smoke burned her lungs with every breath.

"Aysel, you need to--"

"Aysel?" a new voice asked.

She whirled around. There, miraculously unharmed, were her parents.

Her leg gave out as she ran towards them, but her mother caught her and held her tight. "You're okay," Aysel heard her mother repeating over and over again as she wept into her shoulder.

"You're okay," Aysel replied. "I was worried you might have..."

"We arrived as the battle was ending," her father said, stepping in to give her a hug of his own. "When I saw Beast fighting Beast, I could hardly believe it, but I suppose you were right. The Ancient Ones did lead you on a path to unite our peoples. Today I saw with my own eyes as we stood together in battle."

"Actually..." Aysel pulled away and looked at Enrick.

Her mother smiled. "You rallied your people to help ours?"

"I... I..." he stuttered.

Aysel looked at him from her father's arms. If her parents found out that he was responsible for their son's death and the deaths of so many others, she knew that they would not be so forgiving. So she said, quickly, "Yes, but he needs to help me find Dunyasha now."

Enrick glanced at her gratefully, but she looked away. It wasn't for him. She knew the awful feeling of someone's life slipping away, and didn't want her parents to feel it.

"Dunyasha... Aysel, she..." her mother started, then hesitated. "I can take you to her."

Aysel's blood ran cold. "What? What happened to her?"

"She needed healing. Badly," her mother said.

"Is she alive?"

"Yes." Aysel's heart began to beat again. "But she's very lucky."

"I need to go to her," she said, but as soon as she took a step, her leg gave way and she crumpled to the ground, once again consumed by pain.

"Aysel!" Her mother was at once by her side. "You're hurt! Let me see." Aysel let her mother peel away the herb-soaked wrappings covering her leg, and she got the first look at her wound.

It looked much worse than it felt, though she suspected that was in part due to the numbing herbs Enrick had smeared in a salve over her raw flesh. Although he had tried to sew her back together, the line was twisted and straining at the thread. Beneath the skin, her flesh was lumpy with the shattered remains of cartilage. She couldn't see the back of her leg, where the spear had exited, but she knew it was likely just as bad.

Her parents' faces had gone gray. "Oh, Ancients. How were you even standing?" her father whispered. "You should have been brought to us immediately. What are these?" he asked, pointing at her stitches.

"They're to keep the wound closed," Aysel said. "Enrick put them--" She stopped. She looked around again. He was nowhere to be found. "Where is he?"

"He wandered away," her mother said. "I assumed he was looking for his friends."

Aysel could have hit herself, she felt so stupid. A pit opened in her stomach as she realized that Enrick had slinked away like the cowardly snake he was... and it was her fault. She shook her head. There would be time to find him after she was healed and after she was sure Dunyasha was safe. "No matter," she said, trying to keep her voice light for her parents' sake. "Could you heal me, please?"

The wrinkles in her mother's forehead deepened. "I can try, darling, but these wounds... they're deep. There's only so much I can do."

Aysel pushed down the worry again. "Just try. Please."

"Then open up."

Aysel closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and let the blood flow into her.

It had been ages since she had last been properly healed, and the sensation was unfamiliar. She could feel as her mother's blood streamed through her, mingling with her own, bringing its own heartbeat. She felt it move within her body, leaving a strange tingling in its path. It felt foreign, but the more it healed her, the closer their heartbeats came to each other, until it was as if there was one heart beating a steady, unvarying rhythm.

She opened her eyes and looked down.

Her knee was still lumpy and covered with the pale, raised remnants of scars, but it no longer felt pain. "Thank you, mother."

Her mother smiled weakly from the ground where she had fallen. "Thank you for coming back to us alive."

"I told you I would," she said with a smile of her own. "Now, let's find Dunyasha." And she went to stand.

Immediately she could feel something was wrong, but it took her a moment to realize what. It didn't hurt anymore, but she couldn't bend her knee. "Oh no, no, no" she muttered. She tried to bend it again. Nothing happened. It was as if her right knee was dead.

"Mother?" she called, fighting to keep her voice calm. "I can't move my knee."

"What?"

"I can't bend it," she said. "It doesn't hurt but..." She looked up at her fearfully. "Can I walk? Help me up."

Her parents each took a hold of h

Her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. She could stand, but when she went to take a step, her leg was unresponsive; her knee limp.

Her father caught her when she fell. She looked to her mother. "Did it not work?"

"It did," she said, her face tight and tense. "It healed you, but your injuries may have been too severe. I... Aysel, I may have healed you wrong."

Once again, her world shook. Would she really be unable to walk? Unable to take strolls by the stream by her house, unable to run through the forest at sunrise?

But there was something much more important. "Dunyasha. I need to find her."

"But your leg--"

"I'll worry about it later. I need to know Dunyasha is safe."

Her mother nodded. "Come, Elrel. Help me."

Together, her parents looped their arms under her shoulders and helped her stagger forward, past the ring of mourners. She looked back at the fire. Dunyasha and her parents were not in it, but there were so, so many who were.

They led her away from the fire, towards what seemed to be an impromptu healing center. Letters with bandaged wrists tended to figures lying on the ground, either waiting for healing or still too weak to stand. Aysel quickly picked out the largest of them all, the one with a profile like a mountain range. She wanted to run to her, but all she could do was limp awkwardly forward, straining against her parents' arms.

"Dunyasha!" she shouted.

Her golden eyes flickered open. "Aysel," she mouthed. She scrambled upwards, ignoring the cries of the healers to not move. She turned and ran towards her. "Aysel! Aysel!"

"Dunyasha," she said, her voice husky with emotion. Seeing her again, even though she was covered in dried blood and haggard with exhaustion, she was more beautiful than she had ever seen her.

Dunyasha hugged her, and it was as if all the worry and pain from the last few days had melted away. She squealed as she lifted her off her feet, out of her parents' arms, and spun her around. She tilted her head back and laughed, and then Dunyasha was kissing her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, and finally her lips.

Aysel kissed back joyfully, moving her hands upwards to tangle themselves in her impossibly soft hair. Dunyasha was here, and she was safe, and it felt like there was sunshine inside of her.

One final kiss, and Dunyasha set her down again. "Hello, wonderful," she whispered. "You're safe."

"Relatively," she said. "I... I might not be able to walk anymore."

Dunyasha's face stilled for a second, but the next moment she was smiling and saying, "Then I'll carry you wherever you want to go."

"What happened to you, that you needed healing?" Aysel asked.

Dunyasha's smile fell. "I found my uncle. Fought him."

"And?"

"And he got me good," she said, pulling up the hem of her tunic to show Aysel a scar so large and deep it looked like a portion of her stomach had been scooped away and replaced with stretched, shiny skin. "But he's dead."

"He's dead?"

Her mouth narrowed. "Yes. It was what needed to be done."

"So it's over?" she asked.

"It's over."

Someone cleared their throat behind her. It was her mother, standing looking slightly shocked. Aysel blushed as she realized her parents had seen everything.

"Well," her mother began. "I thought there might have been something going on in the woodshed. Is this... a... thing?" she asked, waving her hands towards them.

Aysel smiled nervously and took Dunyasha's hand. "Yes. This is a thing."

She braced herself for her mother's words-- something about how it was against the will of the Ancients for a Letter to be with a Beast-- but to her surprise, she smiled. "Good. I'm glad that there's at least a little happiness in this world."

She looked at her husband, who was still standing with his eyebrows raised high. He blinked rapidly. "Come on, dear. They probably need some time to talk," her mother said, leading him away by his hand.

As they walked away, Dunyasha said, "I think they took that well."

"Took that I'm gay or that I'm not with a Letter?"

"Both, considering." Her face broke into a smile. "Can I kiss you again?"

Aysel answered her with a kiss of her own, but she soon broke away to look at the distant fire. "How many people died today?" she asked.

"Too many." Her golden eyes reflected the flames. "There are People in there too, you know."

"They burned Ystervo's forces with our fallen?"

"No; they were left where they fell." She shrugged. "It isn't as if we need any special rites for our dead anyway. The People in this fire are the ones who fought alongside us." She turned to her. "Letters and the People, side by side at last, even in death. It worked, Aysel. You convinced them after all."

Aysel closed her eyes. "It wasn't me who convinced them."

"What?"

"Enrick was here."

"What?" Dunyasha growled.

"Not like that. He... he saved me." She looked at the fire again. "He told me he had a change of heart once he saw the death he had caused. He turned against his father and convinced his village to fight. And saved my life."

"He's lying," she said at once. "He's trying to trick us again."

"I thought that too, but... but I think he's telling the truth. I don't forgive him, but I think... I think he was being honest. For once."

"No offence, Aysel, but you're not the best in the subject of lying."

"I know. I'm not. But...." It was something about him that she couldn't explain. Maybe something in his eyes, or the way he talked about mourning the people of Westbridge. She knew that this time, perhaps for the first time, he was telling the truth. "But I believe him."

"Even if he isn't lying, it doesn't change what he did," she said darkly. "These people are dead because of him."

"I know that too. Trust me, I know." Her heart ached as the image of her mother petrified with sorrow leapt into her mind.

Dunyasha made a low sound in the back of her throat. "Take me to him. I need to speak with him."

"Well, he..." She trailed off as she squinted her eyes. "He's there."

On the other side of the fire, being escorted by six Letters with blades raised high, was Enrick. His hands were bound in front of him, and a rope was tied around his neck.

"They caught him," Aysel said grimly.

"What are they doing to him?" Dunyasha asked.

Aysel watched as the Letters gathered around him in a semicircle. Her eyes widened. "They're giving him a trial, the same as they'd give a Letter. They're treating him with respect... well, as much as a murderer deserves."

"What will happen to him?" Although Dunyasha's voice was rough as always, her eyes were wide and fixed on the fire-lit form of her cousin. Aysel realized with a small pang that he was the last of her family left.

"I don't know," Aysel answered.

"I need to see him," Dunyasha said. "Come with me?"

Aysel took a stiff step forward and pulled herself onto her back. "Let's go."

Dunyasha ran around the fire. Aysel could feel her wild heartbeat. She pushed through the crowd around Enrick, and they parted for her until she stood in front of Enrick.

Someone had drawn a binding circle around him, but he looked unharmed. When he saw Dunyasha he smiled. "Hello, Dunya. Come to see me off?"

She didn't answer, just stared at him stonily.

"Silent treatment, then? A harsh sentence indeed," he said with a small smile. Aysel noticed that his eyes were wet. "Hey, you brought Aysel too."

"They caught you," she blurted out as she slipped off Dunyasha's back.

He smirked. "You thought I ran away? How could I miss this?" He gestured with his tied hands at the circle of solemn Letters surrounding him. "I admit the thought crossed my mind, but I just needed some time alone. I know that you Letters have a thing for blood, and it looks like you want mine."

"And has a decision been made?"

He swallowed loudly. "You interrupted the announcement." He nodded towards the crowd.

She turned. The faces of her people were full of anger and pain and shadows cast by the flickering of the funeral fire. Far in the back, she saw her parents. They stood, arms around each other, both with tears in their eyes, but they spoke with the crowd as one. "Death."

It felt like the ground fell out from underneath her. "Death," the crowd repeated. "Death, death, death," they whispered.

Aysel's eyes met Enrick's. The smirk was still frozen on his face. His bound hands quivered. Death.

She looked at the flames, feeding on so many bodies. There had been so much death already.

On the other side of the fire, away from the crowd around their old leader, she caught a glimpse of a group of People, the ones who had helped them survive this battle. She thought she recognized the fur-cloaked women staring at her across the flames.

We will make sure to listen.

"No," Aysel said.

"Aysel?" Dunyasha asked.

"We can't kill him."

Her mother pushed her way to the front of the semicircle. "Aysel," she said. "He confessed. He helped kill Westbridge. He helped kill your brother."

"I know," she said, turning back to look Enrick in the eyes. "And I will never forgive him. But we can't kill him."

"Why not?"

"Because death only leads to more death." She turned back to the crowd. "We have a chance to end this war right here."

"The war is over," someone called. "And we won!"

"Can we even say we really won, when so many people were lost? We don't need any more death. Now is a time for mercy."

"Death!" someone else shouted. Others yelled in agreement.

"No!" Aysel said. "No more death! We only survived this battle because we had help, and even still, we lost far too many. We need to make sure this never happens again, and the way to do that is through words, not more violence. The People are ready to listen," she said, pointing at the group across the fire. "But we need to be willing to talk."

"Aysel," her mother said softly. "How will saving him help end the war? He's the one who started it."

"Yes, he is," she said. "But he can help end it, too." She turned to Enrick. "You gave up your role as leader of your people, but you have the knowledge. You know how to read. You can help other groups talk to us, and we can work together to end this."

A gentle hand took hers. "I can do that too, Aysel," Dunyasha said. "I've been running from my responsibilities long enough."

Aysel turned to face her, turned to take in her rugged, harsh, bloodied, beautiful face. "What if you... stayed with me?"

"In what way?"

"As a teacher," she said. "Teach my people how to read. Teach us how to write, too, so we can send our words out to the People, and so we can teach other Letters." Despite her exhaustion and her injuries, she smiled. "Maybe once we start talking to each other, we won't be so afraid and hateful anymore. And..." She took her other hand in her own. "I want you to stay with me because I like being around you, and that part's selfish, but I'm injured and I need you to carry me for awhile."

Her eyes twinkled. "I told you before that I'll carry you wherever you want to go."

Enrick cleared his throat. "Aysel? Are you done with your little romantic moment, or should I wait?"

She stepped away from Dunyasha and glared at him. "What?"

He sighed. "I came back knowing what would happen to me. I know I have to pay for what I did. If these people want to kill me, they can." He looked up at the whispering crowd. "Go ahead. Do it."

Another woman stepped out of the crowd. Aysel recognized her as the mother of one of the first of the sleepers to die, the woman who had glared at her at her son's funeral. "The girl is right," she said. "Killing this... this person will not bring back who we have lost. Saving him might prevent this--" she waved her hand towards the fire-- "from happening again." She raised her arms to the crowd. "Mercy."

"Mercy," Aysel repeated.

"Mercy," her mother said, taking a hold of her hand.

"Mercy," the crowd said in both ringing voices and reluctant mumbles. Some stayed silent. But the decision was clear.

"Enrick can't go alone, though," she said. She looked at him angrily. "I don't trust him."

"We will make sure he follows through and acts as ambassador," someone said. It was the small group of People, walking up to them from the other side of the fire. "Besides, he needs to teach us how to read, too."

Her mother stepped forward. "And I will go as well," she said.

"Mother?" Aysel gasped.

She looked back at her daughter with a small smile. "I'm sure if he was here, Elkin would have volunteered. He was always so kind and so curious."

Aysel's heart swelled. "Yes. He was."

"Besides, I don't think I can go back to that home yet, without him there," she said.

Her father pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Aydin, I'm coming with you. For him."

"But what about Aysel?" her mother asked. "I don't want to leave her alone..."

Aysel looked to Dunyasha. "I won't be alone."

She smiled down at her. "No. You won't be."

Aysel looked up at the sky. Above all the smoke, the sun was beginning to rise.

She turned to the fire and said the ancient words that she had been taught before she had ever learned to wield a blade. "Their blood is not theirs alone. Your rivers have no end."

And then she turned to Dunyasha again. "Come on, then," she said. "Let's go home."