Enrick. The sound of his voice sent emotions crashing through Aysel; anger, hurt, longing all swirled around inside of her, mingling with the numbness that was threatening to overtake her mind. She fought it off. She wanted to be awake to tell him just how much she hated him.

But all that came out was a mumbled, whispered "Nnn..."

"Shh, Aysel," he whispered. "I've got you. I've got you."

But she didn't want him to have her! She didn't want him, the person who had lied to her, the person who had tried to kill her, the person who promised to save her brother but let him die, near any part of her. She could feel the pressure of his hands around her as he hoisted her off of the snowy, bloody ground. She wished he would drop her. She wished he would drop dead.

Instead, he started talking. "Aysel, can you hear me? Oh, stars, I fucked up. I fucked everything up."

Yes, you did, she wanted to tell him, but it was all she could do to keep from slipping under the layer of blackness tugging at her mind.

"But I promise I'm going to make things right," he said, his voice almost begging. "I'm going to help you. Stars, your leg looks bad, Ay, I'm not gonna lie, but I'm going to get you help."

His promise and the sound of her old nickname sent rage bubbling through her veins, rage which doubled when she realized she couldn't move her arms. Her blade may have fallen into the snow where her attacker had dropped it, but she would have strangled him with her bare hands if she could have.

She didn't care that he had saved her. She didn't care that he was currently whispering promises in her ear as he carried her through the silent battlefield. All she cared about was the people his actions had killed.

And with the image of Elkin's hollowed, unmoving face burning in her mind, she lost her hold on consciousness and fell into a starless sleep.

...

She awoke to a world of dull pain and firelight. Smoke stung her eyes when she opened them, smoke that seemed to be coming the sky itself; it was dark and choked with gray clouds with orange underbellies as the fire illuminated them. She sat up to try to find the source and a shot of pain raced up her right leg.

"Ah!" she cried, clutching at her knee.

"Hey, hey, just slow down," purred a voice that sent all of her anger that had been lost in sleep rushing back to her. "You've had a rough-- ah!"

Aysel screamed too; the force of her leap at him jarred her leg, but it didn't stop her from wrapping her hands around his neck.

His yellow eyes widened as she pressed down. "Ay-- wait--" he choked.

She pushed down on his windpipe. Images of her brother's body and red smoke pulsed in front of her eyes.

Enrick's hands tugged weakly at hers. She could feel his racing heartbeat in his throat, as wild and panicked as hers was. It was as if she held his life in her hands.

And then it hit her: she had killed before, but never like this. There was no knife or spear in his hands. Enrick was helpless on the ground beneath her. His eyes watered; his body twitched. And though her brother's face stayed in her mind, she let go.

It was what Elkin would have wanted.

On the ground, Enrick wheezed in a breath. Aysel did too, when she felt the pain in her leg that her anger had temporarily chased away. It was duller now than it had been before, but it still felt like something was ripping her flesh apart. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was sure would be a grisly sight, then looked down. Instead of the mangled flesh she was expecting, she was met with a clean herb-soaked cloth wrapping her knee. She looked towards Enrick.

"That was me. I knew I should've tied you up too," he rasped once he had caught his breath. "But I thought maybe you would trust me more if you weren't bound."

Aysel's inquisitive look turned into one of hatred. "I will never trust you," she spat. "Not after what you did."

He lowered her head. "That's fair. But will you listen to me, at least?"

"No. I'm going to find Dunyasha." She pushed herself up, but crumpled to the ground as soon as she tried to put weight on her injured leg. She bit her lips to avoid a scream escaping.

Enrick hurried over, one hand still on his throat. "You shouldn't do that," he said. "The spear shattered your kneecap and ripped some muscle. You're hurt bad, Ay."

Ice shot through her. "You don't get to call me that," she said with all the venom she could. She grit her teeth and pushed herself off the ground, carrying all of her weight on her uninjured left leg. She was still shorter than Enrick was, but it felt good to be standing instead of sitting helpless and injured in the snow. "Where is Dunyasha?"

"I don't know."

She looked around. They were in a patch of unfamiliar wood, the snow blanketing the ground and fallen trees untouched by footprints other than Enrick's. "Where is everyone?"

"They're..." he trailed off as he pointed towards the orange glow.

Aysel struggled to keep her face impassive as she looked at the fire. It must be huge; its clouds were large and dense enough to block out the night sky. And then it hit her: bodies. They were burning the bodies.

She swayed on her one leg, as if the realization had been a physical blow. She was too far to hear the chanted prayers, if there was even anyone left to chant. She raised one shaking hand. "Who is that? Who is burning?"

"Some of both, I suppose," he said, raising a hand to wipe his heavy-lidded, weary eyes. "Letters and the People, united at last in flame."

His words sent fire back into her veins. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No," he said, startled.

"Good. People are dead because of you," she hissed. "Those people are dead, and they're burning now, because of you."

Aysel expected him to deny it, to try to defend himself, but he just hung his head. "You're right," he said. "It's my fault. Stars, I... I'm so sorry." His shoulders started to shake. He was weeping.

But Aysel wasn't buying it. She knew just how good a liar he could be. "Stop. You won't get any sympathy from me," she said, and she meant it, but the ice in her voice started to crack when she told him, "My brother died."

He opened his mouth, then closed it. "I'd say I'm sorry again, but you wouldn't believe me," he murmured. "But please believe me when I say I tried my best."

"Your best? Your best was betraying me and Dunyasha? Trying to kill me?" Her voice grew in volume as she spoke, until she was screaming at him, spittle flying from her mouth and tears falling from her eyes. "Murdering an entire town full of innocent people and children? Killing my people in battle? All you tried your best at was killing," she said, letting her voice break fully. It shattered like fallen ice.

Enrick hung his head in what looked like shame. "I mean I tried to save as many as I could. These lives will never replace the ones I took, but--"

Her rage flared up again. "Is that why you saved me?" she asked quietly, dangerously, through her tears. "To resolve your guilty conscience?"

"I saved you and the others because it was my fault you were dying," he said. "I was-- am-- guilty because what I did was wrong."

"What others?"

"Will you listen to me if I tell you?" he asked.

She gazed into his face, open and earnest, for a moment. "I'll listen to you," she answered at last. "But I still don't trust you."

"I know I lost that," he said softly. "I lost a lot of things." He gestured towards her knee. "It's something of a long story. Would you like to sit?"

"No." Her leg felt like it was dissolving in pain, but she held her head high and remained on her feet.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "After you escaped, father was livid. He blamed me, thought I had gotten sentimental at the last moment and set you free."

"You certainly didn't," Aysel growled.

"I didn't," he repeated. "But as time passed and we began to prepare for our attack, I started to wish I had. Father was always talking about how Letters were evil, but I was the one who had tried to kill someone who trusted me. But I still went with him, because I just wanted it all to end. The Letters would slip away, and so would my guilt.

"We marched to Westbridge. We could see children playing from all the way across the river. released the powder anyway, and I watched them die." His voice shook. "And then we marched forward, carrying our poison, and I watched the rest of the city die. Mothers holding infants. Fathers trying to shield their children. Everywhere, people trying to run but falling and dying in the street. It was the worst thing I had ever seen.

"After it was over, I snuck away and cried. I don't know what I had thought, but this... this was worse than anything I had imagined. I had killed people. I mean, I had killed before, but these people died by my hand while trying to escape, holding their babies to their chests and begging the Ancient Ones for help that didn't come. And the guilt that I felt for hurting you was doubled, tripled-- no, so much worse than that. It consumed me. And so when my father and his forces marched north, I stayed behind with the people I had murdered."

He looked up at her for the first time. His golden eyes were red and filled with tears. "I burned them," he croaked. "There was no one but me to mourn them. I piled the bodies one by one in the center of the town. I said your prayers: 'Their blood is not theirs alone.'"

"Your rivers have no end," Aysel finished.

"Yes. I stayed and watch those people burn until the fire died. I made myself watch, so I could see what I had done." His eyes were now fixed on the glow of the fire off in the distance. The lines in his face could have been cut into stone.

"And then?" Aysel asked.

"I thought about throwing myself in the fire," he said. "But I didn't. I knew my father was marching north. I knew he would try to get his old friends to join him in the fight. I needed to get there first."

"We went there too," Aysel said. "We were too late."

"So was I. Even running as fast as I could for days, when I arrived, there was already red smoke from my father's attack, and more people were dying because of me. But I had to try," he said pleadingly. "I went to my old people, and begged for their help to fight against my father."

"Against him?" Aysel asked.

"Of course! You don't think that after all I've seen I could fight beside him?" His lips twitched up sadly. "I'm shocked that I convinced anyone to fight beside me."

"How did you convince them?"

"I promised to teach them to read the smoke," Enrick said. "I'm no leader. I've proven that. They can all lead together once they learn to read. They accepted, and I led them down. We took out my father's men. We pulled Letters from the battlefield if we could. And I found you, half unconscious, with a spear in your leg."

She took a deep breath before asking the question she was dreading. "What about the others?" she asked.

"Which others?"

"Dunyasha. My parents. Are they safe?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what your parents look like. And Dunyasha... well, I didn't see her among any of the dead." He looked down at the snow again. "She's strong. She knows how to take care of herself." It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. "I wish I knew if she was safe. It's my fault for getting her involved in this."

"Yes," Aysel said. "It is."

He bowed his head. "I know. But that's all I know. All I have to say."

"Is that your story?" she asked.

"That's the truth."

"I don't know if I believe you."

"That's okay."

"I know I don't forgive you."

"That's... okay too. I killed a lot of people. I'll probably be killed myself."

Against her will, a flutter of concern stirred in her heart. "What? Why?"

"I know what the Letters will do to a prisoner of war, especially one that is responsible for so many deaths." He smiled shakily. "But that's fine. It's not like I really need my skin, anyway."

She blinked. "You're going to turn yourself in?"

His smile turned into a gentle smirk. "What, did you think that I'd choose you to go on the lam with me?" He sighed through his nose. "No. I'm going to take you back; that leg of yours needs more than some stitching and herbs to numb the pain. I only kept you here because I needed you to know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Aysel avoided his eyes. "Once they have you safe, they'll they'll capture me and kill me. And I'll deserve it." He swallowed. "Stars, I know I believe in nothing after death, but I'm still pretty fucking scared."

Aysel crossed her arms over her chest, the movement sending up a wave of pain, which she did her best to ignore. "Stop it."

"Stop what? Jokes are how I cope."

"Stop trying to wiggle your way back to me," she snapped. "I hate you, okay? Stop trying to manipulate me and make me feel bad for you."

He opened his palms. "I swear I'm not."

"Yeah, well, your promises don't mean much."

He dropped his head again and gazed at the snow dusting his bare feet for a while before saying, "Hey, Aysel?"

"What?"

"Just want you to know before I die that I regret everything I did to you. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. And I know you don't believe it, but maybe one day you will."

She stared at the man she had once called her friend. "You may be sorry," she said. "But my brother is dead because of you, and I loved him more than anything. No matter how sorry you are, you can't bring Elkin back."

"I know. I'm sorry. Again."

"You should be. Now, I think it's time for you to take me back." She looked at the smoke blocking out the moon. "I have funerals I need to attend."