Page 167 of Resurgent

So faint I almost miss it.

"Help..."

My head snaps up and Tyr lifts his head.

Another voice.

"Please..."

"Tyr."

"I heard it."

Every hair on my body rises as I reach for Hunter’s dagger.

It sounds like it's coming from somewhere below us...

I stand and Tyr immediately rises with me.

“No.”

"I'm just looking."

“No.”

My heart pounds as I remember the abandoned towns and all the red markers on Halden’s map.

"You're right, they’re either the voices of ghosts or the illusions Clowess has used for far less briefed fighters than me.”

I pull my knees against my chest, and despite everything I’ve just told Tyr, I lay awake the rest of the night, each and every cry burning its way into my mind.

The second day is worse….Not because of the flying, but because we're inside Clowess now, and the difference between our two kingdoms the further we get into theirs is heart-wrenching.

The destruction isn't as widespread here. There are roads and people, livestock and bustling markets.

I stare down at one town as Tyr passes overhead.

"They look normal."

“That surprises you?”

"Yes."

“Why? Not everywhere in Thandroan looks like the areas we just flew over. Plenty of places live as if nothing has happened at all.”

He’s right. I know he is. But still, I feel like everything I've read about Clowess makes it feel like it's full of monsters.

But here they have bakeries and children chasing each other through streets.

And suddenly I understand why war is so complicated: You can hate a kingdom. You can hate the people who ordered the attacks. But looking down at a little girl running across a courtyard makes it much harder to convince yourself that every person below deserves the same fate.

“You are thinking loudly again.”

"Sorry."

“Not sorry, do you want to practice morphing to distract yourself?”

"What? You want me to morph while we're flying?"