The night stretched on, colder now, as the storm rolled over the horizon, its angry winds brushing the land like a warning. The ruins of the old armory loomed in front of us, their broken walls shrouded in shadow, but it felt like the storm was everywhere—whipping around my mind, pulling at threads I had spent years trying to ignore.
Kvatz was walking beside me, his hand casually resting on the hilt of his sword. His movements were calm, almost deceptively so, given the tension in the air. I noticed the way his eyes flickered over the ruins, scanning for anything that might be lurking in the dark, the way his steps were deliberately slow, like he was trying to make himself feel grounded in a world that was slowly unraveling.
I didn't need to look at him to know he was thinking about Gaer's words. About the Pariah. About me.
I had always known Kvatz well—he was my anchor in a world of chaos, my partner in a game we both played but never quite understood. But tonight, he was different. There was a weight to his silence, a heaviness to his gaze that I hadn't seen before.
We reached the outer perimeter of the armory, the twisted gates barely hanging on their hinges. Kvatz stopped just short of stepping inside, his eyes lingering on the darkened doorway. For a long moment, he didn't speak. I had learned to let him have these moments of silence—they were rare, and when he chose to be quiet, it was usually because something was gnawing at him.
"You don't have to do this," he said, breaking the stillness at last. His voice was low, rough with something I couldn't place.
I turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
He didn't look at me, keeping his eyes fixed on the ruins ahead. "All of this. The prophecy. The Theocracy. Gaer's warnings. We're in over our heads, Lanni."
I let the words settle in the air between us, before I nodded. "I know."
"Do you?" He finally looked at me, his eyes searching mine, as if trying to read something hidden beneath the surface. "Because I don't think you do. Not completely. You're always so damn calm, so damn sure of yourself. But I've been watching you, Lanni. You're scared."
I didn't answer right away. He was right, of course. I was scared, but I wasn't about to show it. Not to him. Not to anyone.
He took a step closer, and the air between us thickened. The world felt quieter now, as though even the storm was holding its breath. "And what if this prophecy is real? What if you really are the Pariah? What if all of this—this war, this endless cycle of bloodshed—is because of you?"
I could feel the tightness in my chest, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I didn't ask for this," I muttered, my voice a little too sharp.
"I know," Kvatz said, his voice softening. "I know you didn't. But that doesn't change anything, does it? The world doesn't care if you asked for it or not."
I stepped closer to him, my eyes narrowing. "What are you trying to say, Kvatz?"
His gaze softened, and for the first time in a long while, I saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he rarely let anyone see. He looked at me like I was more than just a mercenary partner, more than just a soldier. He looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
"I'm saying… I don't know what the hell is going to happen to us," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But if the world's going to end, if this prophecy means what Gaer thinks it means, then I want to be there with you. I want to be the one by your side when it all goes to shit."
I swallowed, my throat tight. "Kvatz, you're not making any sense."
His lips twitched into a half-smile, but there was no humor in it. "I'm making perfect sense. You're the only person who's ever made sense to me. And even if this is the end—" He took a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "If I'm going to die in this mess, then damn it, I'd rather die with you."
I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. There it was—the truth, raw and unfiltered. His confession, hanging between us like a blade, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fall away. The ruins, the storm, the prophecy—all of it faded, leaving just the two of us standing in the dark.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no words came. What could I say? What could I do?
Kvatz stepped closer, his breath warm against my skin, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've always had your back, Lanni. Always. But this… this feels different. It feels like everything's closing in on us, like the world's got its claws in our backs, and I don't know what the hell is waiting for us on the other side of this." He reached out, his hand brushing mine. "But if this is the end, if we're both walking into the fire, I want you to know that I'd never want to do it with anyone else but you."
I felt something shift deep inside me—something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years. It wasn't fear. It wasn't uncertainty. It was something more familiar, something I had buried so far down that even I had forgotten it existed.
I looked up at him, my voice barely a whisper. "Kvatz…"
He smiled then, a sad, lopsided grin, like he knew I was struggling to find the words, and maybe that was enough. "Yeah," he murmured. "I know."
For a moment, everything stood still. The storm, the prophecy, the war—it all seemed so distant. In that moment, it was just me and him, standing on the edge of an uncertain world, and I wasn't sure if we were waiting for the end or if we were simply waiting for the next chapter.
But I knew one thing for certain: If it was the end, if the prophecy was true and the world really was coming undone, then I wasn't walking into it alone. And that was more than I had ever dared to hope for.
Kvatz had made his choice. And I… well, maybe I had, too.