I understood the appeal of extreme isolation, but the journey itself to reach the continent’s northeastern peaks was so perilous that the prisoners would likely already be dead upon arrival. That made it useless for anything other than a death march.
Was that what was happening to the culled? Surely not. They needed us for something, not to kill us outright.
“What will happen to us all when we get there?” I asked as my mind continued to race with infinite possibilities. None of which ended with my returning home.
Rowan sighed and closed his eyes briefly.
“I can’t speak about it. I took an oath.”
He seemed oddly conflicted about that.
“Of course you can’t.” I scoffed, looking at anything but him in the dimly lit cavern.
“This is not the conversation I wanted to have with you.”
“No, you want to ridicule me for not being a monster like you.”
His posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed.
“You’re right, Mavis, I am a monster. I have killed, both in and out of service, and I do not carry an ounce of remorse for those I have sent to an early grave. They do not deserve it.”
I glowered, but he continued.
“Guilt does not erase sin; it only amplifies it. So why should I bask in sorrow, letting it slowly eat away at my sanity until the day I become as hollow as the corpses I’ve buried? You may hold the opinion that I deserve death for all that I have done, and perhaps you are right. However, life is sacred, and I refuse to be a coward who doesn’t embrace it.”
His gaze pierced mine, and his expression softened. There was a plea for understanding and acceptance there. So I offered him a single, gut-wrenching truth.
“I didn’t want to kill him. He was wretched and tried to kill me first, but despite that, I didn’t want to end his life. Even after the first time he cornered me, when you stopped me from striking him, I’m not sure I could have done it. Death is final; there is no returning from it. Who am I to be someone’s reaper?”
“That’s commendable. However, others will look to use your bleeding heart against you. I cannot say much about where we are going until we arrive, but I can say this: the weak die. I don’t just mean the physically weak, though they perish quickly as well.”
I swallowed hard and gave Rowan a timid nod.
Throughout our journey, Rowan and I developed an unspoken truce.
However, the more passionate Rowan was when he spoke and made me see things from his point of view, the more I humanized him and the others. Which was dangerous. We were natural enemies and nothing more.
It was the way it had to be.
Rowan reached out to touch my arm, but I shrugged away. A flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes before it was quickly swept away, and he dropped his arm just as fast. His mask of indifference returned, and he started back toward the camp.
I couldn’t forget that he was the enemy.
Even if I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Chapter 22
“Balance is what life craves, and without it, everything will perish.
Even the gods have their limitations.”
- The Old Book
The first breath of tundra air cut like glass. As glad as I was to see the sun again, the blistering wind outside the caves jolted my senses.
It was the bitter season, and we were in the Great North. The landscape was white with snow, and the temperature was well below freezing. Rowan said that traveling in winter was safer because most of the beasts inhabiting this part of the region were hibernating. He said it was a matter of choosing the lesser evil, and I wasn’t sure I agreed with him on which was which.
He merely asked, “Would you rather lose a toe or your life?”
