I sat back on my heels, trying to process what he was telling me. This young male—barely out of adolescence, dying, desperate—had made choices that led here. To being bound in an enemy's cave, waiting to die, hoping for mercy he probably didn't deserve but needed anyway.
"I want you to question him more gently," I said to Drav. "Not torture. He's cooperating. He deserves that much."
Drav moved closer, crouched beside Tahl. "Tell me about Kethar's backup plans. If the three-day attack fails, what does he do next?"
"There is no next," Tahl said. "This is his last chance. Mine too. We're all dead in a week regardless. If the attack fails, we just... die. That's it."
"And Vhel knows this?"
"Yes. We all know." Tahl's voice had gone flat, clinical. "That's why we agreed to Kethar's plan. Because doing nothing means dying anyway. At least attacking gives us a chance, however small."
Silence. I could see him processing this, understanding it in ways I never could. He'd been there—forty-three seasons unbonded, days from death when I came through the portal. He understood desperation better than anyone.
"If you had succeeded," Drav said carefully. "If you'd killed me and taken my mate. What would you have done?"
"Claimed her. Forced the bond. Hoped her body accepted the transformation." Tahl's voice stayed flat, detached like he was discussing weather instead of violence. "Kethar said human females are adaptable. That if we bred them constantly through the transformation, they'd survive. That the pain would be worth it if we lived."
"And if she died during transformation?"
"Then I'd have bought myself a few more weeks before the sickness killed me anyway." Tahl looked at me, and I saw no apology in his expression. Just honesty. "I'm sorry. I know that's brutal. But desperation makes you calculate lives like resources. Yours against mine. And I chose mine."
The honesty was devastating.
"Thank you for telling us," I said.
"Can I ask you something?" Tahl looked between us. "What's it like? Being bonded?"
I didn't know how to answer that. How to explain the constant awareness, the chemical dependency, the way my body needed Drav the way it needed air and food and water.
"It's everything," Drav said simply. "And it's worth any cost to have it."
Tahl's expression crumpled. Not crying—just devastation spreading across his face. He'd never have that. Would die knowing exactly what he'd missed, what he'd been desperate enough to kill for but would never experience.
"I'm going to ask you something," Tahl said after a moment. "And you can say no. But please consider it."
"What?"
"Kill me now. Quickly. Don't make me wait three more days dying slowly in this cave." His voice was steady, certain. "I've told you everything I know. I've cooperated. I'm asking for mercy."
The request hung in the air between us.
I looked at Drav. His expression was unreadable.
"Give us a moment," I said to Tahl.
Drav and I moved to the outer chamber, spoke quietly where Tahl couldn't hear.
"He's asking us to kill him," I said. "A prisoner who's already dying. Who's cooperating. Who's in pain."
"I know."
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know." I pressed my hands to my pregnant belly, feeling the eggs. "He attacked us. Tried to kill you. Tried to take me. But he's also just a kid who made desperate choices and now he's dying."
"Those things can both be true."
"I know. But which one matters more?"
