It was odd, mourning someone who was still alive. For days, I'd grieved Will and the life he'd led before possession, and even now, I spent most evenings reminiscing about Tom before the demon conquered his skeleton. But Valerie was still here, still very much human, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the girl I'd come to know was dead.

Aimes had taken a cleaver to her personality, and in 24 hours, she'd become someone I didn't recognize. Gone were her bubbly flirtations and sassy remarks. Gone were the incessant hugs and flower crowns. He'd poisoned the bright, undamaged parts of her soul that she'd guarded in an unforgiving world. And it broke my heart to see the coward's enduring impact on someone so loud and colorful.

I did what I could to be her pillar of support—learning her triggers, making up excuses for us to be alone, accompanying her on angry power walks or archery sessions—but the only one I seemed to be helping any was myself.

At Valerie's side, I was distracted. I had someone else to worry about, someone else to fix. But when I was alone, my mind wandered back to that night and ruminated over the reckless thing I'd done.

No matter how anyone spun it, I'd killed a politician. Not a Pan, not a demon—a living, breathing man.  A horrible one at that, who probably deserved what he got, but a man regardless.

Ikelos had reemerged from the shadows, untamed, to carry out her vendetta. And what unnerved me about it the most was my utter lack of guilt. I held absolutely no remorse for my actions—not a kernel.

What did that say about me?

How could I justify my actions when I'd condemned the aristocracy for making undemocratic choices for Ells, without due process, without representation? I'd abused my power for selfish reasons. I'd killed a civilian. I'd leapt through mediums to end his life.

And still...no regret.

Worst of all, if this secret got out, not even the army could protect me from the ramifications. As much as I admired my male comrades, a man's word was still more valuable than a woman's—even that of a corpse. A military woman murdering a respected political figure would only ruffle feathers, and my claims of sexual assault would be snuffed out by excuses and guilty sympathizers.

So when news of Sidney's death reached the ranks and rumors of poison and ill-intent floated to the surface, I tracked down the guard I'd cornered that night, eager to nip it in the bud.

And nip it I did.

The soldier took one look at me and blenched, and he swore he wouldn't tell a living soul what he'd seen. What we'd discussed. He was too scared to breathe a word of it to anyone, even me, and that was all the reassurance I needed.

My freedom now hinged on the city lacking the capacity—and interest—to investigate any further. And if the Fates intended to keep me alive long enough to die in this war, they'd bury this case in the rubble.

Attempting to stifle my paranoia, I pushed into Valerie's tent. My gaze swept the small space and snagged on the overstuffed bags in the corner. "We're not leaving for another two days," I reminded her, gently, because I recognized dissociation when I saw it.

She turned to face me, and my heart dropped at the somber look on her face.

"...I'm not going, Alex."

I stared at her for a while, denial taking root in the tent we'd shared for the past six days.

"I just can't be around so many men," she whispered, and the admission kicked me in the stomach. "I feel him everywhere. I see him in everyone. And I can't stand to hear them mourn him."

There was so much I wanted to say, and none of it helpful. "Okay," I said thickly. "That's okay." I wet my lips as I debated the best way to respond. "But...before you commit to a decision, it might be worth talking to someone about this. Siren, Mrs. Price..." Me.

"I don't think I can. I only remember bits and pieces, and the parts that I do remember..." Her voice trembled, and she paused to collect herself. "I don't want to relive it, and talking about it is as good as watching it unfold around me all over again."

I felt like I was bleeding out right here in the middle of the tent, helpless and cold and desolate. Then I remembered what Leah told me at the apothecary, and I knew I had to relay her words of wisdom before Valerie left. Even if she didn't want to hear it. 

"None of this is your fault, Val. You know that, don't you?"

Her lip quivered, and she stared out the tent opening, unable and unwilling to meet my gaze.

"I get it if you need to leave, if you can't fight right now. But don't think for a second you had it coming." Anything but that.

Misery swirled in brown irises, and she let out a heavy breath. "When it happened...I just kept thinking I was Valerie Mabins. I was Siren's best pupil. I could kill a grown man from fifty yards away. But all those days practicing to defend myself...all those nights training and preparing...they amounted to nothing."

"Val..."

She screwed her eyes shut. "I never should have been so careless. Flirting all the time, acting like I was untouchable."

"Valerie."

Her gaze snapped to mine, wounded and confused.

"You were drugged. No amount of skill, strength, or supernatural ability could have changed the outcome. And even if it did, fear can take any form, including paralysis. I've been there." And that hesitation cost me my brother. "But most importantly, what that coward did was not a result of desire. It was about power and dominance." My palms ached at the memory of his bedroom and the choices I'd made there. "I made him feel weak, so he tried to prove me wrong by hurting the people I love. You were just caught in the crossfire." I leaned forward sternly. "Do not blame yourself for seeing good in people."

Her teary eyes dipped to the floor, and she wiped at them furiously. "We're just...we're trying so hard to change how they see us. To prove that we're equals. That we're not vehicles for their pleasure and offspring. And then he goes and makes an example out of me."

Indignation climbed my throat. "He did no such thing. He knew he couldn't overpower us in a fair fight. So he cheated." I swallowed, blinking away the image of his pale, half-naked corpse. "And now he's dead. And he can't hurt you anymore. He's gone, Val."

She hugged herself, and those clean, polished nails dug crescents in bronze skin. "Then why can I still feel him?"

We stood there in silence as I slowly came to terms with her desertion. And deep down, I understood why she had to go, but it didn't make it any less painful. I'd wanted so badly to fight by her side in the end. To spend my last days with my friend.

With my family.

"Where will you go?" I asked.

"Averly," she said. "I...I think it's time I paid my mother a visit."

Seeing as she'd already packed her bags, I decided there was no sense in asking her when.

"I'm sorry I can't be there," she said softly, and a small, sad smile pulled at her lips. "Give Regulas a proper ass-whoopin' for me, okay?"

A feeble huff of laughter left my mouth, and I moved to embrace her—perhaps the only person in this whole city she was still willing to touch.

After a brief hesitation, her arms enveloped my frame. They tightened around my waist, then loosened again, like her body and mind were at war, and I glared at the mountains beyond our tent flap.

"Don't worry. I'll give him hell."

I frowned at my father's grave, wondering how he'd feel about me killing a civilian in cold blood.

Would he berate me for putting myself in danger? For acting so rashly? Or would he congratulate me on removing a predator from the streets?

If it had been me who'd fallen victim to the man's crime, would my father have reacted the same way? Would he have killed for me?

How I longed for his answer.

I'd always rejected his help growing up, desperate to prove my strength, my independence. But now...now I just wanted to endure his unsolicited lectures about life. To experience one of his lame attempts at dissolving tension or switching topics in hopes of distracting me from an uncomfortable inquiry. 

I wanted to feel protected again—the way only a daughter can. I wanted to hug him one last time.

I really missed him.

Mason and Torian appeared a moment later, whispering back and forth as they ascended the hill, and I quirked an eyebrow at their heavy wool attire. "Anticipating a snowstorm?"

The two exchanged heavy looks, and someone yanked the rug out from under me for the second time today.

"...What is it?" I murmured.

Mason sighed, casting a guilt-ridden glance at Fudge's wooden grave marker before approaching me with a hesitant expression. "...Tori and I are seeking out the Seventh Order."

My jaw unhinged, and I blinked rapidly as I struggled to comprehend his sentence. "I'm sorry?"

"Havard's group is our only hope of translating Aila's journal," he explained. "We can't rely on the physical destruction of something incorporeal. Not when the stakes are this high. We need a paranormal solution to a paranormal problem."

And Eagan might just be that solution.

I glanced down at Molly's journal in my hand. Mason had asked me to meet him at the grave site with the book, and I'd assumed he just wanted an update on my interpretations—or lack thereof. I had no idea he intended to cross the border with it.

"You're headed to the bunker..." There were so many questions bombarding my brain, I didn't know where to start. But I saw the conviction in Mason's eyes, and I knew there was no use talking him out of it. "Just the two of you?"

"Blaze is coming also. Figured we'd keep it small and avoid bringing anyone new into their midst," Torian said. "Plus, the guy makes a mean stew, and I'm pretty sure he's in love with Eliza."

A party of three, then. And no Harmon, Beckett, or Siren to lead the way. "What did Rover say?"

Mason rolled his eyes. "Since when do you care about approval?" But when I shot him a dry look, he relented. "Rover thought it was worth a shot. Worst-case scenario, they refuse to help us."

That was certainly not the worst-case scenario, but I wasn't about to transplant my anxiety.

Chewing his lip, Mason extracted a roll of blueprints from his cloak and handed them to me. "It's up to you, Claus, and Freemont to make this work. We have the nonlethal equipment made; now we just have to execute the plan."

Right. I accepted the documents with a scowl. Just the hard part.

"I informed Nasir of our departure as well," Tori added. "He's prepared to manage the rations and supplies we've assembled. So my absence shouldn't affect you too much." He tacked on a playful smile. "Not as it pertains to productivity, anyway. Emotionally, I expect significant withdrawal symptoms."

I failed to muster a laugh as I squinted down at the grass growing between us. I didn't like this. Not at all. We didn't even know if the bunker crew spoke Auxpauri, and the trio was embarking on this journey way too close to Sunrest.

Could they even make it back in time?

"We're taking horses," Tori said, predicting my next question. "And there's barely any snow left, so the trek won't be as difficult as last time." He shot me a reassuring grin. "We'll join you and Will in Rhea as soon as we can."

My wary gaze slid to the graves of Fudge, Nova, Dad, and Mr. Price, and I felt my entire posture deflate. All my friends were leaving me at the cusp of battle, and it stung. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts and fears. I didn't want to face my impending death without my faithful knights.

But they were right; we needed answers, even if those answers were no.

Grudgingly, I surrendered Molly's journal, but as Mason's hand clasped around the leather spine, I tugged him a few inches closer, holding his gaze. "I told Mol I'd bring this back to her, so you can't die on that mountain." My eyes flicked to Tori. "That goes for both of you."

They nodded in tandem, and I released the most important stack of parchment I'd ever touched.

"You're not gonna do anything crazy while we're away, right?" Mason grumbled, stashing the journal in the inner pocket of his cloak. "Because I won't be here to supervise you, and Valerie's more of an accomplice than a chaperone."

I forced the wince off my face. Neither boy had any idea what transpired last week, and there was no point in telling them now. I needed them focused on the mission, not the festive party they'd abandoned.

"You can relax, Mace. There's no time for any real fun, anyway."

His withering look made me chuckle.

I followed them to the base of the hill where Blaze finished prepping the horses. They'd stuffed the travel packs and cantle bags with a few weeks' worth of essentials. And Mason had already fastened his bow and quiver to his saddle.

I tried not to take offense at the fact that I was the last one informed of their travel plans. I had made myself rather scarce the past few days while tending to Valerie. And it wasn't like I could join them anyway. My place was on the frontlines, and my days of side quests and adventurous field trips were over.

I hugged Tori goodbye, and he squeezed me tightly, like he always did. "Do you remember what I told you about overexerting yourself?"

I huffed into his chest. "Don't?"

He snorted and pulled away to look me over. "Don't bite off more than you can chew. Especially when I'm not around to give you the Heimlich." His leaky pupils pinned me in place. "Understood?"

"I got it. I'll limit myself to appetizers."

Mason and I traded head-nods—a casual, "see you soon, welt," gesture, almost like neither one of us wanted to acknowledge a future where a reunion didn't take place. But when he turned around to mount his horse, I found myself marching forward and snatching the tail end of his cloak.

Ensnared, he glanced at me over his shoulder, and we stared at each other for a moment, speaking silently through our gazes. Our last journey to the Rim had not been kind to us, and this time, there would be no Ve'Rah Daa to protect him. There would be no archer to pull the arrows out of my back.

And that concept sent a bucket of icy fear down my spine.

Because Valerie's assault had eroded the absolute trust I'd put in my male peers, even those I loved and respected. It was impossible to know which Ellsians wore a mask as well as Aimes, and as convinced as I was that Rover, Sol, and Beckett would never hurt me, assuming good men were incapable of evil was how most women greeted Death.

But Mason...Mason was my exception.

I knew I could trust him no matter what, in any circumstance. He'd never lie to spare my feelings. He'd never seek anything but pure, platonic friendship. And he could only ever grow into a better human—mostly because his past self was an absolute prick, but still.

I'd seen him at his core, and under all that scar tissue, the two of us were twins. And gritz, I couldn't bear the thought of losing another brother.

As we stood there, gazes locked, a million warnings danced on my tongue. But instead of voicing my concerns and affections, I just yanked him into a hug.

To win a war, you have to delegate, Rover told me once. You have to let those people choose what they want to die for, what they hope to be remembered for.

It's your turn to watch your friends and peers decide their fates.

And I absolutely hated it. But all Mason ever wanted was to be a hero, and who was I to deny him that opportunity?

Who was I to bar him from his fate?

"...he was found dead in his bedroom. They're saying it was a heart attack..."

My hands fell to my sides, and Frank glared at me, as if the only reason he tolerated my proximity was because he had a grooming appointment.

The two federates passed our stall, unaware of my presence. "I thought he was young. What, thirty? Thirty-five?"

"Yeah, it's all fishy if you ask me. Rumor has it that there wasn't a scratch on his body. And no poison either."

I swallowed, my pulse quickening at their inevitable conclusion. Someone had to have considered my power by now, surely. I was almost positive Beckett knew the truth, and Siren couldn't be far behind.

"What a shame," the second soldier replied. "I liked him the most out of the lot. The kid had a good head on his shoulders."

"I hear ya. He's the only politician who cared about us bottom feeders. Maybe that's the reason some weed took him out."

Gritting my teeth, I resumed brushing my steed. At least I'd had the foresight to take Sidney's horses with me that morning, or someone might have connected his murder to a military officer.

"Gotta watch your back, man. If they're taking out paragons like Aimes, the rest of us are in hot, hot water."

"Poor guy. Had his whole life ahead of him, too. If anyone could have made this country a better place, it was him..."

The men left the barn, and angry tears nestled in the corners of my eyes.

It was clear to me now that when we won this war—if we won—there was still a battle to be fought. And it wasn't simply the task of finding new politicians and representatives. It wasn't just doing away with the Procreation Decree.

It was deeper than that, and far more complicated.

Mason had seen it all along. They were raised to see that way...to feel that way about us, he'd said, and only now did I truly understand how much work momentous change demanded. 

Because sure, maybe Siren and I had shown our peers the utility of women, but too few still acknowledged the value we brought beyond military service and motherhood. Too few recognized us as humans worthy of respect and agency. 

And I sensed it would take a lifetime to defeat the monsters in disguise.

When I exited Frank's stall, I yelped at the silent, attentive shadow across from me.

Siren stood on the opposite side of the stable, her arms crossed over her enormous stomach, her eyes narrowed on my face. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded. "You've been acting strange for days."

I leaned back against Frank's stall, avoiding his fat head—lest he decide to feast on my hair. "I'm fine."

"Is it Liam?"

I shook my head.

"What is it, then?"                                       

Part of me wanted to explain what happened, to confide in someone, to tell the world that no, Aimes was not a good man. And Siren would have been the person to come to.  She would have taken Val's side, and she'd probably desecrate the man's gravestone while she was at it. 

But...would she have truly understood? 

I felt like I'd let her down somehow.  Like I shouldn't have allowed the person under my wing to get struck by lightning. Especially someone as important to me—to both of us—as Valerie.

She started forward like a bird of prey sweeping in for the kill. "Has someone hurt you? Threatened you?"

I forced myself not to look at her. 

"Alex, if someone—"

"I'm okay," I insisted, lifting a shoulder. I chanced a glance at her, and she looked even more perturbed than before. "I just..." I pinched my eyes shut. "I've been defending humanity this whole time, you know? Our right to exist. Why we shouldn't be erased. Why Regulas is wrong. And then...then something always happens that shakes my resolve.  It makes me doubt whether we deserve a second chance at all."

Rape. War. Coercion.

Lies. Cowardice. Greed.

Maybe the demon king was meant to wipe us out. Maybe there were already too many demons walking among us, wearing our skin, to justify our salvation.

My superior officer settled herself on the nearest hay bale, pondering over my words. Then, with a conviction that really shouldn't have surprised me, she said, "We don't deserve it."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I'd almost forgotten this was Will's mentor I was talking to.

"You want me to explain why the human race is worth saving," she said. "Something about how, despite our flaws, despite our weakness, we show resilience, ingenuity, creativity. That despite all the wars we've waged, all the terrible crimes committed, our species is capable of such love and ingenuity that the good outweighs the bad."

I did want to hear that, more than anything.

"Well, I won't. Because I'm not sure we deserve to be saved. Not as we exist today." She looked outside the barn, her gaze settling on the dark sky we'd poisoned. "We've led a corrosive history. And as a species, we've committed unforgivable atrocities—some of which we may never discover."

Frank harrumphed behind me as if to voice his agreement.

"But...I still think there's a reason to fight," she confessed. "It's similar to what Beckett said in his speech at the courthouse."

I thought back to the trial, recalling how the soldier mentioned something about the message we'd pass on to the next generation. 

"We should fight for our story," she supplied, smiling a little.

I slumped down next to her on the hay bale, eager for her to continue. Desperate for something to restore my faith in my neighbors, my comrades, my enemies.

"A story of man defeating his demons. A story of humanity facing an ultimatum and choosing unity. Choosing good." She hummed, closing her eyes. "I think if we can stand as one army, all colors, all genders, all differences aside, and fight for a free world, a better world...maybe then we'll deserve to be here." 

The tears returned. And so did my hope.

"The deep-rooted problems in this world might take generations to remedy, and very few of us will live to see it," she went on. "But with each new day, we get a little smarter and a little kinder, and that ability to evolve, to grow, to learn—that's something we ought to preserve." She drew her hand over the swell of her stomach, and I saw Nameless kick against her palm. "If I'm going to bring this little one into the world, I have to believe that. Because giving up on our kind, surrendering to our biological nature and selfish whims? That's not a story worth telling."

My eyes lingered on her belly, the life there, and the future it promised. 

"We're capable of change, Alex," she said, fixing me with a gaze that rallied armies. "A change that should be recorded."

******************************************

I'm baaaaack and officially done with my Creator's Program book. That means I'll be updating this book ~twice a month, and hopefully, wrap this baby up before too long.

Thanks again for your continued support!

Next time -- a long-awaited reunion with you-know-who.