Julius Rictor - Chapter 40 - Nigel

“What the hell is going on?” I muttered, staring at the chaos before me, too frightened to believe it. “This isn’t real.”

I could barely make out the screams through the fires burning far off in the distance.

Castle Grey stood on an island connected to the central one of the city’s five quadrants by a single bridge. Three bridges linked the forward quadrants to the mainland, while the two quadrants behind the castle served as ports for goods moving across Hopeful Lake.

On the castle bridge, soldiers frantically closed the gates as men in matching black clothing, brandishing swords and spears, stormed toward them. The intruders were immediately met with arrows and fire.

I tensed and leaned forward. “Shit! We’ve gotta—”

Alexander immediately grabbed me, threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, hopped off the wall, and ran into the castle. Nigel and Remi were right behind him, with Gai following close after.

“Secure her in the castle! Now!” Nigel pointed at Alexander and me. “I’ll find Captain Van Gallan!”

“I’ll help with defense and find Talbert,” Remi added. She looked back at Gai as he followed. “Stick with Alexander!”

My blood ran cold as more explosions sounded off in the distance. 

The castle courtyards were soon flooded with soldiers. Maids and servants screamed as they scrambled inside. Some tried to leave, afraid for loved ones in the city, but the guards forced them back into the castle.

The gates in the castle wall were sealed. Troops manned the battlements. Senior Knights shouted orders in every direction. Even the Rangers were scrambling into position.

I was too dazed to protest my treatment.

Captain Van Gallan was issuing orders beside the large double doors at the front of Castle Grey. Nigel landed in front of him just before we arrived.

“Alexander has secured Lady Scarlet,” Nigel said as Alexander carried me past them and into the castle. Gai followed. “The city’s on fire, sir!”

“We’re receiving reports of small groups using slash-and-run tactics throughout the city,” Van Gallan told him. “The attacks are scattered, but they know the streets. They’re placing traps and explosives at key—”

More explosions sounded in the air, cutting him off.

Captain Van Gallan cursed. “Has anyone seen Talbert?!”

No one answered amid the shouting.

“Dammit! Rangers, listen to me! We need to bolster our defenses. If we lose this island, we lose the city. Go—”

Alexander raced down the hallway and up the stairs, carrying me beyond hearing range before I caught the rest of Van Gallan’s orders.

Sweat dampened my forehead. What the hell is going on?

“Let go of me!” I slapped Alexander back. It wasn’t a hard hit. I could easily have hurt him, but I didn’t want to do that. “I can walk on my own!”

Alexander grimaced and said nothing.

I charged my body with light energy, fully prepared to shove him off with all my might and separate us. 

Instead, Gai grabbed my arm and slid me off Alexander’s shoulders. The large blond man whipped around, startled, as my feet hit the floor.

“We need to get you to your parents and assess the situation,” Gai said calmly, looking me dead in the eyes. “Alexander is doing his job. You’re a target. There’s a war going on. Calm yourself. Comply.”

I stared sharply at Gai, nodded, and spun around. “Let’s go,” I informed Alexander.

Still surprised, the blond man nodded and hurried up the stairs with the two of us on his heels.

We arrived in the baron’s throne room. It was a mess inside. People crowded together, chattering in terrified voices. Officials I had known for years looked stressed and on the verge of death. Knights surrounded the room, yet they, too, were tense.

Dad was surrounded by advisors, with Mom beside him. When they saw me, they broke from the crowd and rushed over to embrace me.

“Thank the Gods you’re safe,” Mom said. “We thought you’d run off toward the fighting.”

“She was about to,” Gai muttered, but only I heard it. 

“What’s happening?” I asked when they released me. “I heard the announcement and saw the explosions. Is it the rebellion?”

“You know as much as we do,” Dad admitted. He turned toward the large windows surrounding the room, which offered views of the city from several angles. Water’s Bastion was burning.

“How could he project his voice through the entire city?” I asked.

Dad gestured for me to follow him to a chest discreetly hidden behind his throne. Inside was a device shaped like a choker.

“It amplifies the wearer’s voice across a great distance,” Dad said. “The mechanism uses the vocal organs of sound-based monsters connected to similar devices throughout the city on a sort of frequency.”

So like a radio.

“I’ve never seen you use it,” I said.

“Baron Clegane used it constantly to relay orders and issue proclamations when he tried to secede from Zalevet.” His eyes softened for a moment. “I did not want to emulate him.”

“Sir.” One of the knights hurried forward. “Reports are still incomplete, but there are more than a thousand insurgents throughout the city. We have confirmed Eaters and Traiters among them, though we do not know how many. They’re solely targeting soldiers and infrastructure, but civilians have already been killed.” He hesitated. “We also have reports of at least five Synborn, all Wrath variants, in each quadrant of the city.”

The tension in the room surged. Everyone had heard him.

“We need as many Eaters as possible in the streets,” the knight said. His gaze flickered toward me, then returned to the baron. He did not want to say what he was thinking, but I understood.

“Tell Van Gallan to mobilize strike teams specifically to target the Synborn. Our regular Knights can contain the insurgents where possible. Pair each Eater with two Traiters,” Dad said. His gaze shifted to me. He stared for a moment, then placed his hands on my shoulders. “Change for combat. If they breach the castle, we will need your aid.”

Those were words he did not want to say. I could see it in his eyes. He had spent years protecting me. When I received my gift, he had nearly stopped me from fighting altogether. Social obligations kept me too busy to pick up a sword on another person’s behalf. Gai had almost been sent away for helping me join the Guild.

For my father to want me combat-ready meant the situation was dire.

•••

Nigel Black

I stood beside four fellow Eaters as Captain Van Gallan addressed us. Behind us, sixty soldiers waited under arms. Ten were Traiters; the remaining fifty were regular Knights.

“Nigel, Barcus, Teresa, Samuel, and Lark. Each of you will lead twelve soldiers into a separate quadrant,” Captain Van Gallan said. We stood in the courtyard near the main gate as explosions, screams, and the roar of fire filled the air. “Two Traiters per team.”

The captain assigned a quadrant to each of us. I received the central quadrant directly connected to the castle, the most critical section of the city. If we lost it, the enemy would gain the strongest possible foothold for an assault on Castle Grey. I was the strongest Eater among us. Everyone knew it, including me, and I considered the responsibility an honor.

Boats around the castle island were steadied and launched while I gathered my soldiers at the closed gate leading to the city. The bridge beyond it was empty, with no enemies in the immediate vicinity besides the corpses of those left behind in the initial assault. It was the ideal moment to cross and mount a counterattack.

“We’re with you, sir,” Glenn, one of the Traiters under my command, said as he walked up and placed a hand on my shoulder. Together, we stared through the gate at the burning city.

“Give us the orders,” Isoleth, the other Traiter in my unit, said. Her voice was steady, but I could sense the fear beneath it.

I looked back at my soldiers. Every one of them was on edge. I was the only one who appeared calm because, as their leader, I had no other choice.

“Glenn, Isoleth, take five soldiers each and sweep opposite sides of the quadrant. We have thirteen people to cover thousands of homes, so spread out, stay within signaling distance, and save everyone you can. I’ll move between your teams and strike wherever resistance is strongest.” I marched forward as the gate began to open.

As if on cue, rebels waiting in the shadows charged from the far side of the bridge. They wore black and brandished cheap weapons. Their determination was obvious, but against a trained formation, they posed little threat.

Thirty of them rushed me as I passed through the gate with my soldiers behind me.

I held out my sword. The steel turned red, as if it were sitting in a smelter. 

My focus narrowed until the attackers were all I could see. I had to put everything into the swing while controlling the blast closely enough to keep it from reaching the city.

I swung outward horizontally. 

An explosion ripped across the bridge. Fire consumed the air above it, swallowing the rebels and erasing their screams beneath red, white, and orange light.

The air exploded. If I weren’t immune to my own gift, my eardrums would have burst. 

Behind me, I heard my soldiers shout in surprise, even through the explosion. No one had seen me put that much force into a single strike. I practiced at full output only beyond the city, where one mistake would not level homes or kill bystanders.

Wind shrieked outward, sending shock waves back into us and forward toward the city. My clothes and hair snapped in the blast as charred pieces of flesh splashed into the water below.

When the fire cleared, the bridge was empty except for blackened remains and the stench of cooked meat. As intended, the blast had stopped just short of the city, damaging only the edge of the roadway.

I sheathed my sword and walked forward coldly. “The way is clear. Let’s move.”

I sensed hesitation behind me, followed by a swell of confidence as the twelve soldiers advanced.

I began to run, and they followed. We crossed the bridge quickly. The gate behind us slammed shut as we raced onto the main street.

“Glenn, Isoleth, take opposite streets and sweep outward. Keep your groups moving and cover as much ground as possible. I’ll move between you.” Explosions burst from my feet, propelling me forward at three times my normal speed. “My gift is more dangerous to you than to me when we fight in a cluster.”

They obeyed without argument, each leading five soldiers into a different section of the quadrant.

Near a four-story building outside the inner rung, I jumped. An explosion beneath my feet launched me onto the rooftop.

“Most of the fires are in the inner and middle rungs. The outer neighborhoods have fewer patrols.” The conclusion struck me immediately. “We neglected them.”

The five inner districts housed wealthy nobles and merchants who wanted to remain close to the baron. The middle rung held most shops and ordinary residences. Poverty was concentrated along the outer edge, where families displaced by the last rebellion had also been settled. The districts were imperfect but generally safe, with little serious crime. If there had been signs of an uprising this large, Talbert and the Rangers should have found them.

“We were careless,” I said. My gaze darted toward the nearest fire. The main road between the mainland bridge and Castle Grey had become a battlefield. Knights fought rebels between shops and checkpoints. Our soldiers were holding their ground, but bodies already covered the street.

But that wasn’t what troubled me.  

I hopped off the roof onto that street and stared ahead at the looming shape in the middle of the road. 

A towering creature roared in the middle of the road. Exposed bones pressed through masses of gore. Its arms and legs ended in blades, while a crown of flesh and bone split open across its enormous head.

It was a Wrath Synborn.

A body hung halfway up its right leg, impaled on the bladed limb. Two heads were skewered on its left arm, and the upper half of a torso had slid to its right shoulder.

Knights tried to surround it, but rebels kept throwing themselves into the formation. The Synborn killed everyone within reach, rebel and Knight alike. That seemed to be the point. The insurgents were keeping the creature active, even at the cost of their own lives, preventing the Knights from coordinating long enough to kill it.

“No! Noooo! Plea—gha!” A Knight screamed as the Synborn speared him through the chest and lifted him. Its crown-shaped head snapped forward, tearing away his head and upper torso. Inside the crown, a twisted ring of teeth ground the meat apart while the rest of his body remained caught on the creature’s arm.

I had seen a great deal as a Knight. Others regarded me as cold and dutiful. Even so, I hesitated.

Dozens of bodies covered the street—Knights, rebels, and civilians. My gaze fixed on the upper torso of a child lying in a broken food cart. The lower half of the woman I assumed was his mother lay nearby in a crumpled pool of blood.

My breath caught. Fear pulsed through me, but I forced it down and stepped forward.

It takes several trained, coordinated fighters to kill a Synborn. We do not have that option. The other Eaters are occupied elsewhere. I will have to do this alone. My face relaxed, then hardened. I can do it. I must.

I kicked off the ground with my gift, launching myself forward like a ball of fire. Sword drawn, I cut through several unaware rebels as I passed, easing the burden on the Knights by reflex. My true objective was the Synborn. I had to stop it before it took another life.

Where did it come from?

In less than two seconds, I had crossed the distance and aimed a horizontal slash at the creature’s neck.

The Synborn reacted instantly. Its head whipped toward me. It had no discernible eyes, but its blood- and gore-caked crown aligned with my position.

Explosive energy surged through my sword. I swung so hard that the weapon nearly tore free of my hands.

The Synborn tilted its head. My sword sliced through the upper crown of bone and missed its neck.

Shit.

A bladed arm came at me.

I released a blast from my left foot, rotating into a somersault that narrowly carried me over the strike. Using the momentum, I completed the turn and drove my blade down. The blow lacked the force of my first attack, but it struck the creature’s four-foot bone blade and deflected it.

I cursed, kicked the creature, and blasted myself backward. The Synborn focused on me at once, recognizing the greatest threat nearby. Its awareness was not human, but it was more than animal instinct. Synborn were feared for more than their strength.

The Synborn charged at me.

I steadied my breath, held out my sword, and—

Something stabbed me in my side.

I looked left and saw a rebel driving a dagger into my side. He was middle-aged, exhausted, and dressed entirely in black. Hatred burned across his face. There was no fear in his eyes. Not an ounce.

How could we have known nothing about people carrying this much hatred?

Behind the Rebel, the bladed arm of the Synborn came into view.

Cursing, I lifted my sword.

The Synborn’s arm cleaved through the rebel before striking my sword. The blade did not cut me, but the impact still sent me flying.

I smashed through the nearest building. My back struck brick, then the floor. I bounced once, crashed through a table, and burst through a window on the opposite side.

Glass peppered every patch of exposed skin. A splintered length of wood pierced my leg. Gashes and splinters covered me, beneath them bruises and broken bones.

I stood regardless, groaning.

My cuts began to seal, and my bones pulled themselves back together. I tore the wood and glass from my body so nothing obstructed the healing.

Even so, my connection to my gift weakened as it worked overtime to repair me. A substantial portion of my power was temporarily inaccessible. It would return once my body had recovered.

Seconds after I stood, the Synborn crashed through the building after me, smashing through one wall and out the other with its attention fixed entirely on my death.

There was no one else around us now. Decapitation was customary, but destroying the entire head was what truly killed a Synborn.

It charged, towering several feet over me.

I channeled power into my sword, steady and confident.

It loomed over me.

I threw my sword right into its head. 

The Synborn twisted aside, but the blade lodged in the flesh and bone beside its crown-like skull.

Believing its prey helpless, the Synborn hovered over me and prepared to strike.

I snapped my fingers.

My sword exploded. The creature’s entire upper body disintegrated in a burst of red and orange. The remains below the ruined torso quivered before beginning to fall.

I took a step back.

It slammed into the ground. Because I had repositioned, the hollowed center of its head collapsed over the place where I had stood, leaving me clear of the gore.

Steel rang overhead. I waited until the sound drew close, then thrust out one hand and caught my falling sword. The weapon was unharmed and safely back at my side.

I brushed the specks of gore from my shoulders and stepped away from the corpse. It dissolved into red smoke, leaving nothing behind.

“Well done,” a voice said. “I expected nothing less.”

Is that—

•••

Remi Lam

“They’re swimming! Watch the water!” I shouted to the Knights lining the outer edge of the island. Other Rangers were scattered around the shore to prevent infiltration elsewhere.

The first rebels arrived in boats. I connected to the vessels and hurled them back toward the city. Easy kills. Nothing to worry about. The volume was the problem. The report of more than a thousand insurgents no longer sounded exaggerated.

There is no way an operation this large remained hidden without help from someone powerful inside the city. We have a liar in our midst. They have doomed us all.

I circled the island several times, doing what I could to keep anyone from reaching shore. Other Eaters helped, but I handled most of the defense. When the boats became liabilities, the rebels abandoned them and swam underwater. My gift did not work directly on living bodies, but I could still seize their clothing when they were in range of my gift. I had to lift them one at a time so our archers could shoot them, and the process was slow. More rebels were reaching the bank while my energy drained rapidly.

My gift offered immense versatility, but that power came at a cost. Controlling so many separate objects across the island exhausted me quickly, even after years of training.

“Shit,” I muttered, dropping an arrow-riddled corpse into the water, now stained pink with blood. “We need Talbert. Where is he?”

I found Petrov on the southeastern edge of the island. A rebel had crawled onto the bank only to meet a blade of wind that cut him in half. His upper body lay frozen in a final attempt to reach shore while his legs drifted in the water behind him. More swimmers approached, ignoring the bodies around them.

“Have you seen Talbert?” I asked, rushing forward and placing a hand on Petrov’s shoulder.

“No. I can’t find him. No one can.” He paused. “He must be in the castle.”

“We need orders.” I patted his shoulder and took off. “I’ll find him!”

“Quickly!”

I raced toward the castle. At the wall, I jumped and floated over it, connecting with my clothing to lessen gravity’s effect on me. I landed lightly in the courtyard, restored my normal weight, and ran inside.

Talbert was not with Captain Van Gallan or any of the troop concentrations I passed. My final guess was that he had joined the baron.

I reached the throne room and found it packed with nobles, the baron, the baroness, and Scarlet. Alexander and Gai were there as well. Everyone was staring through the great windows at the city.

Talbert was nowhere to be seen. 

Where is he?!

“Everyone, pull back from the castle. It’s time for an intermission,” a voice boomed. “The baron and I need to speak. I know you can hear me. Let me hear you, sir.” After a pause, the voice continued. “Your guards on the bridge seem terrified. You should respond.”

•••

Scarlet Embers

I rushed to the window and looked down toward the main bridge into Castle Grey, accompanied by several officials, my father, and Gai.

A man in dark clothing and a mask stood in the distance. A normal person would have struggled to see him from the castle, but my enhanced senses let me make out his shape.

He had a lean build, dark hair, and a sword hanging at his side. His mask was bright white except for a black smear across the mouth like a morbid smile and similarly upturned stains around the eyes.

For a second, I was fascinated by him. Then, I tensed as I saw five people kneeling at his feet.

“Captain Van Gallan did an excellent job sending your finest Eaters to deal with the Synborn running through our fair city,” Purpose said. A line of rebels stood behind him. “You’ll be pleased to know they killed every one of the creatures, along with a considerable portion of our forces. I would estimate that we lost thirty percent of our first wave. Beyond expectations. Well done.”

“Nigel?” I whispered.

Alexander and Remi rushed to my side, nearly pushing others out of the way. The three of us stared at Nigel, who knelt in the middle among the five captured Eaters. He was battered and weak. His skin had turned a dull gray, as though he were sick, and his half-closed eyes remained fixed on the ground.

“Unfortunately, the Knights who accompanied them are dead. Only these five remain.” Purpose walked behind the line of captives, brushing a hand over their heads. “They fought well, but the conditions of their deployment were never in their favor.” He paused. “Baron Embers, I believe it is time to negotiate.”

My father was already fastening the device from behind his throne around his neck. Once it was secure, he spoke. “Can you hear me?” His voice echoed throughout the city.

“I can,” Purpose’s voice boomed back.

“Release my Knights. Then we can negotiate.”

“I think not. They’re keeping me safe at the moment. One errant attack, and one of them might be struck,” Purpose said lightly. “We hold this city hostage. At my word, the attack will resume. We are targeting your soldiers, but civilian casualties are inevitable.” He paused, letting those words settle over the population before giving the next ones more weight. “Surrender yourself and your family to my custody, and the city will be spared. You have my word.”

“And I should trust the words of a murderer terrorizing our city?”

“What choice do you have?”

“My choice is to kill you. That is inevitable.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Purpose spread his arms. “The people with me captured your finest Eaters without killing them, including one gifted with a rather marvelous Admix ability.” He ruffled Nigel’s hair, making me grit my teeth. “You have not seen half of what we can do, or what we are willing to do to end your oppression.”

“This oppression you speak of is nonsense,” my father growled. 

“To your wealthy noble friends, I’m sure. But what of the poor and downtrodden? How often do you think of them?” Purpose gestured toward the armed people behind him. Most looked nothing like trained soldiers. Only one stood apart: a short woman in red clothing with black hair, a raised hood, and dark bags beneath her eyes. “What of the men and women you were supposed to protect, who now yearn for your head?”

Father stood tall and rigid, his eyes cold. “Lay down your arms. You will receive a lawful trial.” His voice softened only slightly. “Tell me your real name.”

Purpose decapitated the captive on the far left. He was a short-haired blond man named Lark, a Water Typical I knew well. His eyes held a silent plea as his head rolled across the bridge and his body collapsed behind it.

“What are you doing?!” Father shouted. His voice boomed through Water’s Bastion.

“Reminding you of the situation.” Purpose’s voice was calm and cool by comparison. “Send your wife down. Alone.” He walked to the opposite end of the captives. “I’ll kill her and release your Knights.”

The baron stepped in front of my mother. “You—”

Purpose swung his sword and decapitated the next Eater. His name was Barcus. He was an Earth Typical in his late thirties and had recently become a father.

“Not quick enough.” He walked to the other end. “You have a voice. Use it. Yes or no. That’s all I want to hear.”

The room should have erupted. Instead, every fighter stood rigid, measuring distance against risk. Remi could not reach the bridge from the castle. It lay far beyond the limit of her gift. Gai could disappear, but he could not cross that distance before Purpose’s sword fell. Any ranged attack would have to pass through or around the kneeling captives, with the rebels waiting to interfere. It was likely they had Traiters among them, if not an Ester or two. One mistake would kill the hostages first. No one was willing to gamble three lives on a guess.

“Three left. What will it be?” Purpose called. “I’ll be generous. How about a duel?”

“A duel?”

He swung again, decapitating the third captive. His name was Samuel. He had received his gift three years earlier and was considered a prodigy. He likely would have entered the Rangers within another year.

“That was not yes or no,” Purpose said. “But you’re right. I should explain the rules.”

Everyone in the room was tense, but no one more than Gai, Remi, Alexander, and me. Only two Eaters remained, and Nigel was one of them.

“Dad, please,” I muttered. “Stop him.” I could not look away from Nigel.

Remi shifted as though she might try something anyway, but Alexander caught her shoulder.

“Let go!” she pleaded.

Alexander did not release her or look away from the bridge below.

“Your daughter is an accomplished fighter. A Dyad. I’ve heard she was trained by the best.” Purpose moved behind the final captive other than Nigel. “Let me duel her. If she wins, my forces will surrender peacefully. If she loses, I kill her and the rest of your family, and control of the castle passes to me. How about it?”

“I’ll do it!” I lunged toward my father and grabbed his arm. “Let me go, and—”

“No,” Dad said. His voice remained hard. “You have murdered every person offered as proof of your terms. There can be no duel while your people control its outcome. I will not surrender this city’s command on the word of a butcher.”

I went pale as I stared at him.

I should have expected the answer. Five Eaters were precious, but the people in this castle formed the city’s command structure. If my parents and I surrendered, Purpose could decapitate the defense and leave Water’s Bastion leaderless. My father was willing to pay five lives to keep the city fighting. Nigel’s life was one of them. Understanding the calculation did not make it hurt less.

“A pity,” Purpose replied.

Purpose swung his sword and severed the fourth Eater’s head. Her name was Teresa, another Water Typical who had graduated in Nigel, Alexander, and Remi’s cadet class. Only a week earlier, I had overheard her in the gardens saying that her boyfriend had gotten her pregnant. I had not been able to decide what gift to give her, or whether it was even my place.

I clenched my teeth so hard they felt ready to crack. As Purpose stepped behind Nigel, every muscle in my body strained while blood-red fury flooded my mind.

Remi stopped resisting Alexander. She collapsed to her knees and stared through the window, her hands lying limply against the glass. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Alexander stood beside Gai. Neither man looked away. Both were rigid, their entire bodies tense, with a fury like mine burning in their eyes.

Nigel looked toward the castle, and I swore he was looking directly at the four of us.

“Fuck this!” I stood up, light energy flooding through my entire body. “I won’t let Nigel die!”

A beam of light tore from my arms, shattered the window, and streaked toward Purpose’s head.

At the final instant, the beam bent away from him and struck the lake beside the bridge. Water erupted high into the air.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Good girl, Allysia.” Purpose glanced at the woman in red. She nodded. He looked back at us. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes! I’ll do it!” I shouted.

I tried to leap through the broken window, but Dad raised a wall of flame that hurled me backward. Remi and Alexander were thrown aside as well. Judging from their faces, they had intended to follow. Gai alone remained standing. His expression was grief-stricken, but his eyes never left Nigel.

“You know he cannot let you do this,” Gai said softly. “Purpose controls every term. You would not reach him before he killed Nigel.”

“But—but—I can. Let me. I can—” I forced myself upright and rushed forward with the other two at my heels. “Please!”

“This city will never surrender to a tyrant. We fought one war for freedom, and we will fight again to preserve the peace our people hold dear,” Dad’s voice boomed throughout Water’s Bastion. “We will not break. We will not be threatened. On this day, I swear that you will die, Purpose.”

“We shall see.”

Gai, Alexander, Remi, and I stared at Nigel.

It was a strange feeling. I had seen people die before. In college, one of my roommates overdosed at a party. I was the only sober person trying to save him, but I failed. One of my clients hanged himself in his cell after being arrested on false charges and sentenced to life. The three men who tried to kill Gai and me had died in front of us. I had seen corpses through the castle windows.

None of it prepared me for the absolute helplessness I felt as Purpose swung his sword toward Nigel’s neck.

The world slowed. I felt as though I stood on the bridge with them, forced to watch the moment unfold before me like a scene from a horrific film.

I caught one final glimpse of Nigel’s eyes. They showed one thing: regret.

The blade went cleanly through, severing his head from his neck.

The light vanished from his eyes. His body toppled forward as his head rolled across the bridge, coming to rest with his lifeless face turned toward us.

I froze. My heart seized in my chest. The urge to vomit and collapse into tears was displaced by a rage so consuming and poisonous that it felt like bile bursting into my veins.

“Gaaaaah!”