He stands now, grunting as he pulls himself up just to sag on his feet. To see his destruction. To face what he’s done. Basuin grips the railing of the watchtower—he’s been here before. Overlooking the forest before. Questioning his duty, questioning himself.
And now, he overlooks Shaelstorm as it sinks into the fiery pits he’s made, all to avenge a woman who never wanted it.
Far out, people are rushing to row their boats out toward the sea. In the long distance, one ship sits on the water. Good. Good riddance. They should have left so long ago. Should’ve fled before they destroyed half of this forest and killed its god.
Basuin rests his head on the railing.
Rushing footsteps find the stairs up into the watchtower. He doesn’t bother to look at the intruder. He sets his chin on the guardrail and stares into the black sea before him. Lit lamps dot the water as the soldiers row toward safety.
“Are you done killing?” Tehali asks. She’s out of breath.
He doesn’t respond.
“Are you Basuin of Ankor?” she asks, too. “Or are you Basuin, the Black Wolf?”
“All and none,” he answers. “I don’t know anymore.”
After a moment, Tehali moves to rest against the railings beside him. She smells of ash and gunpowder. It makes him gag, makes him slap a hand over his mouth. She smells of death—of the death he razed.
“Are you going home?”
After a long moment, Basuin gives her a curt nod. “I will, after this. We’ll replant the forest. Rebuild.” The word tastes like metal pressed to his tongue, branding it into his flesh. He wanted to do it with Ren. With Ren.
Tehali looks at him, dark eyes wide. “You’re staying here?”
“It’s my home.”
She drags a bloodied hand over her face, thinking. They take that moment, standing in front of the burning bastion, together. It’s been a long time since they’ve been together like this. The last time, they were in this very watchtower. And this time, he understands much more than he did then.
“I want to shed my armor,” he says, swallowing hard. “I want peace now.”
Tehali gestures out at Shaelstorm. “This isn’t peace, Captain.”
“I know.” He hangs his head. It hurts worse to hear it aloud, to hear yet again that his hands brought war instead of cultivating peace. Ren would’ve found a way. “She didn’t want this.” If they had more time, she would’ve found a path to peace.
For better or for worse, Tehali doesn’t ask who he speaks of. Basuin’s eyes burn something rotten, not with smoke, but with another wave of tears wanting release. He already misses her.
He wants Ren beside him, even with disgust. Even with shame. Even if she hated him after all of this, he wants Ren here.
“You should go home,” he says finally. “Go back to Jankri. Visit with your family again.”
“My father would send me away,” Tehali says with a bark of a laugh. “After this shitshow?” She shakes her head and the chime of gold rings in her ears is so familiar it aches. “My mama would be happy, though.”
“Then you should.”
Tehali’s mouth makes something of a smile, pained but heavy with the duty of a soldier. She’s still a soldier, through and through. Less than he was before, but more than he is now.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”
She shrugs. “We do as we’re told, Bass. It’s how we scrape by. But you—” Tehali takes a deep breath and sighs. “You’ve never had anything but war to love.”
“War is easy.” He tightens his grip on the railing. “War doesn’t die.”
“And look at what it’s killed,” she says.
He swallows.
“You should go home,” Tehali tells him. “If this is your home, then you should go back to it. Stay here. Be happy, Captain.” She beats her fist on the railing in a soft rhythm. “I’d like to go home, too.”
