The wind rattles the outpost as the shadow outside moves closer. My pulse thrums in my ears, but I don't let my stance falter.
A knock.
Not an attack. Not an ambush. A single, deliberate knock.
Killian and I exchange a glance. His grip tightens on his sword, but before either of us can speak, the door creaks open, and a figure steps inside.
A young man—tall, with dark hair and wary eyes. He isn't dressed like a soldier, but the emblem stitched onto his cloak tells me exactly where he's from.
Killian's kingdom.
I tense, my dagger still poised, but Killian exhales sharply. "Soren."
The stranger's eyes sweep the room before landing on Killian. His shoulders sag with relief. "You're alive."
I don't lower my weapon. "Who is he?"
Killian's expression is unreadable. "A scout. A messenger. And, apparently, a fool."
Soren rolls his eyes. "You disappeared. What did you expect the council to do?" He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward me. "We thought you were captured or—" He stops, looking between us. Realizing.
Killian rubs a hand over his jaw, clearly exasperated. "I told them I'd return."
"You told them nothing." Soren's voice is firm, but there's no accusation in it. Just urgency. "When you didn't come back, they assumed the worst. And now... they're retaliating."
The air thickens.
Killian's expression hardens. "Against who?"
Soren hesitates, then looks at me.
I already know,
My kingdom.
A warning strike. A show of force.
Because of him.
My stomach tightens, but I keep my face unreadable. I should be fine with this. I should let it happen. After all, I came here for one reason—to kill Killian, mark my final kill, and earn my freedom.
But instead, I saved him.
And now, because of that choice, my people are at risk.
Soren studies me carefully, as if trying to piece together why I'm still standing here—why my blade isn't buried in Killian's chest. He doesn't ask. Instead, he sighs.
"I don't know how much time we have, but they won't wait forever. If you go back now, you might be able to stop them before it's too late."
Killian crosses his arms. "And if I don't?"
Soren's jaw tightens. "Then war begins."
The words settle between us like a stone.
I clench my fists. This isn't my fight. It never was. But if my kingdom falls because of him, then what was the point of all of this? What was the point of my years of survival, of fighting, of bleeding, just to be free?
I glance at Killian. He's watching me again. Not with suspicion. Not with doubt. Just... waiting.
The decision is mine.
It should be simple. I should let the hunters come. Let them take him away. Let them erase the choice I can't seem to make.
Instead, I take a slow breath and say, "Then we stop them."
Soren's brows knit together. "We?"
Killian raises a brow. "We?"
I roll my shoulders. "You're my kill." My voice is steady, cold. "And I don't share."
Soren lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "I see why they fear you."
Killian's smirk returns, but there's something softer beneath it. Something unreadable.
I shove my dagger back into its sheath. "Shut up and start planning."
Because if his kingdom wants war—then war is what they'll get.