Kalden halts. “How are those who revel in the death of someone who was once human any better than the monsters they’re taught to fear?”
I place my palm against the forehead of my helmet, covering the camera inside, and whisper, “You can’t let them hear you say that.”
“Why?” Kalden challenges. “What can they do to me out here?”
My mouth falls open, then shuts.
He has a point. We’re already living in one of the worst-casescenarios. The only alternative that could be worse is imprisonment in the Abyss, but would Chancellor Bren risk the valuable lives of his men by sending them out to detain us? Doubtful.
I suppose he could have us arrested,ifwe return home at the end of this. But that’s a big if. Assuming Gabe has enough nightstone missiles for each of us to kill ten Sols, what happens when we miss or encounter more creatures? My teeth bite into my inner cheek as I imagine what would happen if we face another ambush, but without the intervention of the explosive.
As if he senses the direction of my thoughts, Kalden sighs. “Focus on right now, not tomorrow or next week or a future that isn’t guaranteed. If you don’t stay in the present and stay alert, that could be you.” He tilts his head at the smoking corpse.
I roll my eyes, though he can’t see it. “You’re awful at motivational speeches, you know that? Why do you always end these pep talks with some vague threat about my imminent death?”
Kalden leans in so close I can see my reflection in the polarized lens of his helmet. “Because your will to live is what drives you. Not because you fear dying, but because you fear losing. You believe your death would confirm you are too broken, too weak for this world. So, you push forward out of spite, to prove yourself wrong—that you are worthy of existing.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I think I hate him a little bit. I hate how much he sees through me. Hate how his words pry at unhealed wounds. Because he’s right. I’m not convinced I’m worthy of existing.
“But you’re wrong.” Kalden’s low voice thickens. “If you die, it won’t be a confirmation that you don’t deserve to live. It’ll just be a tragedy.”
My knuckles clench, and my blade cuffs retract.
Part of me hopes he believes I intentionally sheathed the blades.But if this conversation has taught me anything, it’s that the man across from me is too observant for my own good.
A raindrop spills onto his helmet, saving me from whatever humiliating comment he was sure to make. Two more droplets fall on mine.
Kalden leans back, glancing at the blackened sky, then at the tree line at the base of the hill. “We should keep moving. Get further beneath the canopy before the storm picks up.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I losemyself in the relentless patter of raindrops and crunching foliage as we traverse through the forest, dodging the occasional fallen limb and thorny shrubs. Shivers chase the water streaming down my spine. With every step, splashes of mud assault the fringes of my leathery suit before being washed away by the torrent.
The aimless trudging stirs the bubbling cynicism among the group to the surface. Though the beating rain across my helmet drowns out most of the conversations, I recognize Gabe shouting toward Kalden. “Where are you taking us? I can’t tell which way is northeast, but I don’t think this is the right way!”
Kalden yells back over his shoulder. “We should be going in any directionbutnortheast right now, and we shouldn’t be drawing attention to ourselves! Let’s keep well within the tree line and head back towards the dunes once visibility returns and everyone has had a chance to dry off!”
His voice resembles the thunder cracking through the wind, carrying with it a charged command. The chaotic whispers cease as we all hear the order and obey.
For a while, the false night moves with us, concealing the true sky from view and making it difficult to know how much time has passed since we left the Sol’s steaming carcass. Eventually, the black-tinted raindrops taper to a clear mist as we reach the edge of the nightstone cloud.
Now that we’re free of the unnatural darkness, I stand a little straighter.
Stay present. Stay alert.I repeat Kalden’s advice like an anthem. His delivery was tactless, per usual, but the advice itself is sound.
Everywhere I look, there are trees, animals, and insects I’ve yet to learn the names of. Birds with bright red feathers dive for cover beneath the green canopy. A furry four-legged rodent, whose gray-and-copper tail is longer than its body, scuttles past our group with its foraged fruit in hand. The movement stirs a fresh waft of bittersweet fragrance.
There’s so much life here. So much sound. I’d thought Caligo’s melody of echoing footsteps and muffled conversations was noisy, but this . . . It’s entirely overstimulating. Still, I press on, refusing to be the first to request a break.
Mercifully, Gem folds a few minutes later. “Sun’s pits, I’m starving. Can we pause to eat? There’s enough cover beneath the canopy here that we should be safe from direct exposure.”
Gabe, who’s hovered persistently at my side since our trek began, pulls out a yellow-orange fruit from his pocket before tossing it over to me. “I plucked this from that tree we passed a bit ago.”
“Do you even know what it is?”
“Not sure.” Gabe shrugs. “But it looks like a cross between an orange and a pepper, so I’m guessing it’s good.”
“Those are two completely different flavor profiles,” I scoff, but consider the fruit anyway. It seems edible. No discoloration or strange sap. My mouth waters, ready to risk it.
