Orson rushes into the basement entrance with his sword at the ready.

  Getting past the plaza security took him far too long, and the disorientation caused by the portal didn’t help either.

  He also firmly regrets his earlier thoughts about not receiving any attention, since all the looks he gets as he runs through the crowd are either disapproving or judgmental ones. Still, any attention is good attention, and Orson is sure that when he heroically leaps in to save Gelmidas and later explains the situation, he’ll be greeted with nothing but praise.

  Placing both hands on the hilt of his sword, he sprints down the final steps.

  Then he hears the snap and scream that comes afterward.

  Being greeted by the light, he views the source of the cry at the center of the room. The Container is drenched in red that flows to the floor, staining the papers beneath and dissolving them to leave nothing but degraded shreds of text.

  The blood makes its way under Davon’s feet. “Don’t think this means you get to use it.” He states, lowering his arm before Gelmidas’s smashed nose to be sure that he is fully aware of his allegiance.

  Nadeden’s severed leg rests atop the container.

  Orson gasps in shock, dropping his sword.

  Shanna stands in a loud silence.

  Davon gently places his hands in his pants pockets, explaining himself, “Everything you said about her was right, Gelmidas. Every bit of it.”

  He moves his eyes from Gelmidas to the bleeding leg, “Nadeden’s a hypocrite. She’s a stain on the entire Division; she has been since you made the mistake of taking her in. You were wrong about one thing, though: violence and cruelty is her nature, not ours.”

  Circling the container, Davon’s boots splash in Nadeden’s blood, painting them a dark crimson. “I won’t let you drop to her level. I refuse to. I won’t let anyone in this room gain a reputation as terrible as hers. History will remember you as the man who led the Division to victory, not the malevolent Emperor who unleashed unknown power onto countless innocents.”

  Davon grips Gelmidas by the shoulder, locking eyes with him for the last time over the stained container. “The ends can only justify the means if the means are just. I promised myself that I’d allow you to be your own person, but I’m making a new promise. I swear right here, right now, I’ll do whatever you ask of me, but if you so much as think about opening that container,” Davon removes himself from Gelmidas, boldly striding toward the stairwell and promising in a cold, low matter-of-fact voice.

  “I won’t even blink when I send you to the edge of space.”

  Nadeden slams onto the floor of her private home.

  The fall shatters her nerves into a rush of agony equal to the gush of blood that leaks from her stump of a leg and seeps into the floorboards. She lies helplessly, curling herself into a ball, digging her nails into her skin in search of a vain sense of comfort.

  Writhing in this shell of herself, Nadeden can do nothing but cry into the void and hope for an answer.

  Thankfully, Helena comes to her aid, and after a chaotic and panicked hour, Nadeden is lying on her bed with a dirty bandage covering a cauterized leg.

  She twists her thigh, still feeling a phantom sensation of what was below it.

  Her head slumps on the pillow while Helena puts away the matches.

  Helena finds herself unable to clear the scene of gore from her mind; she twitches at it, clutching at her mouth to hold back the bile that threatens to rise out of her stomach. She gulps it down and fixes her skirt before reaching for the mop to wash away the damp pool that’s still soaking in the front room.

  However, she halts herself when Nadeden calls out to her, “Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me already, but I have one last thing that I need you to do. One big thing.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Helena asks, frightened.

  Nadeden grips the bedside.

  She lifts herself up to meet Helena’s gaze. “I want you to take Adamus offworld. He isn’t safe here anymore, especially not with me. Hand him over to your parents or anyone else you trust. If I’m quick, I can still scrub your employment records. I can’t protect either of you, but I can at least try to keep Gelmidas focused on me.” She says it all as if rehearsed, which it is. Once her pain cleared, this plan was all she could think of.

  Helena sets down the mop and approaches the bed. “I can’t do that, Ms. Nadeden.”

  “What?” Nadeden blurts out in surprised concern.

  Helena rubs her arm to soothe her anxiety as she speaks. “You chose to raise Adamus yourself and have done your best to keep him from turning out like you or Gelmidas. I don’t want to be the one to take him away from you, not when you’ve already given up so much for him.”

  Helena lowers her hands and raises her eyes. “I’m not like you, Nadeden,” she says, sitting beside her.

  “If something threatens me, I run, but you stand and fight. I could never be like you.”

  Nadeden turns away, lying back down.

  She looks upon her missing leg and her restless hands. She has fought with these hands for her entire life, yet has never truly taken the time to examine them. They don’t even look like they belong to her.

  “Don’t worship me, Helena. I don’t even deserve to be called a person.”

  After the mumble, she lets out a deep sigh in thought. “You are right about Adamus, though. The last thing I want for him is to be like me or his Father.”

  Nadeden’s fingers roll on her hands, flexing within her palms. She cradles the fingers into a fist, only keeping up her middle and index on her right arm, “I don’t deserve a friend like you, Helena. I hope you know that you’re more than just a servant, and since you won’t abandon me, I won’t abandon you either. It’s the only way to keep an idiot like you safe.”

  “So you want me to run away with you?”

  Nadeden smiles at the question while holding her two fingers toward the moonlight, “Well, you and your Brother, of course. How far is his repair shop from here?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  At that, Helena springs off the bed. “He’s just down at the spaceport. If we hurry, we can make it before he locks up for the night.”

  “Better get moving then.” Nadeden sits up. She places her lone foot on the floor, struggling to stay upright.

  Helena tosses Nadeden the mop to balance herself.

  “Thanks.” Nadeden catches it, smacking the wood down with her every step.

  Hiring such a kind-hearted soul is definitely the lowest on her long list of regrets.

  “I’ll go get Adamus,” Helena tells her, walking back out into the front room.

  As Nadeden watches Helena approach the vast window that encompasses an entire wall, she can’t help but think that this is all moving far too fast. It's as if she’s fighting against the whole universe again.

  Fate has always attempted to strip her of happiness, hasn’t it? First, it dropped her into war as a child, then handed her a doomed love, and now she’s being forced to abandon this new life she’s built for herself.

  Will Gelmidas even care that his life was threatened by her?

  He didn’t seem to care about anything besides opening that container.

  Who’s to say he isn’t already doing it right now?

  Who is there to stop him?

  More importantly, who is there to stop Nadeden from doing precisely what she’s doing right now?

  Why is she even entertaining this idea?

  This life of hers has made her far too paranoid.

  The threat of Gelmidas is clearly an imagined one.

  She’s no better than him in that regard.

  Nadeden puts herself at ease. She rolls her shoulders and takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

  She relaxes as she calls out to Helena, who has her back to the window now, “Wait.”

  Helena halts. “What is it, Ms. Nadeden?”

  What is it indeed, Nadeden?

  What has happened to you?

  Don’t you always take action without thinking first?

  What changed?

  Speak.

  No, don’t take time to gather yourself again.

  What is it?

  Could it be that perhaps you feel responsible for this young woman now?

  Are you uncomfortable at the thought of her following you and helping you look after your son?

  Speak, now.

  Because this is the last time you’ll see Helena breathing.

  The grand window shatters at the impact of dual blades crashing through it. The crisp steel avoids the glass. The weapons only focus on the body in front of them. Helena’s back bursts at the crosscut. Blood sputters from it, slowly dripping as she collapses.

  Nadeden watches on in horror. Her breath quickens as the attacker rises.

  “Scorched Archer,” He beckons, “Emperor Atheneum has called for you. Surrender now,” He raises both of his blades, the small slivers of light reflect his form on the smooth metal. “Or face death.”

  Nadeden now recognizes him as the fury of battle takes her.

  Sergeant Brian Thorn, the deadliest swordsman in the Division, he’s nearly as infamous as her.

  Nearly.

  “I don’t give a shit what the Emperor wants right now, Sergeant.”

  Nadeden launches at Thorn, deflecting the slash of his blades with the mop. The metal traps itself in the wood.

  Nadeden swings the staff to the side.

  Planks of wood explode between the two opponents.

  Nadeden loses her balance, sinking to the floor. She tightens her hand on one of the jagged planks of wood. She roughly stabs it into Thorn’s upper thigh. Blood erupts from the exit wound. Thorn bites his tongue, capturing a scream.

  Nadeden flips onto her hands, kicking Thorn across the face.

  Thorn is knocked back but quickly recovers, clumsily thrusting down both of his blades. Nadeden only narrowly dodges the attack.

  Small cuts appear on her chest and nose as she lands back on her foot.

  Thorn readies another slash, holding the twin swords over his head, exposing his abdomen to a strong palm strike. As Thorn cradles in on himself to recover from Nadeden’s blow, his blades move with him.

  Nadeden barely avoids having her throat sliced.

  She throws herself back to deliver a kick to Thorn’s groin that leaves her lying down defenseless. Thorn stumbles about the room, doing everything he can to fight off the pain that’s spreading from his crotch and thigh to the rest of his feeble body.

  He doesn’t hold back the scream this time as he slices downward at Nadeden. She rolls out of the way. Slamming into the wall on the other side of the room kills her momentum and forces her to poorly stand again, but Thorn is already on her.

  Nadeden grunts as one of the blades pierces her shoulder and sinks into the wall.

  “I always knew you’d betray the Division. I’ll be sure to tell the scribes that when they write about how I put you down.” Thorn prepares to deliver the final blow when a cry is heard from the room behind them.

  Adamus’s rude awakening catches Thorn by surprise.

  He lowers his guard at the cries, recalling those of his own young child, who was born just months ago on the Squideel homeplanet of Ourobeel.

  Thorn knew the risks and fallout that would come from crossbreeding with an alien species, but when he saw the look of joy on his lover’s face and the pure innocence on the face of his child, he realized that he didn’t care about the consequences of his love.

  Thorn has to wonder now if Nadeden gave any thought to the consequences of her love for Gelmidas.

  This sudden surge of empathy allows Nadeden to wrestle the blade out of her shoulder and into Thorn’s neck.

  She pushes with all her strength through his tender flesh until his head drops to the floor with an uncaring thud.

  She nearly drops with him, but balances herself with the sword before she can fall.

  She heaves a deep exhale, gazing at the violence surrounding her.

  Violence has made its way into her home and consumed her once more.

  She shudders at the sight of Helena’s body and knows that she’s the one responsible for the light of her kindness being extinguished.

  Thorn was here for Nadeden. Helena was just in the way.

  Adamus’s cries grow louder. He’s begging for comfort.

  Nadeden collects herself for the final time, letting go of any second thoughts she had.

  Never doubt yourself again.

  She plants the promise into her mind before entering Adamus’s nursery.

  Nadeden gently lifts Adamus out of his cradle, comforting him in her arms. She carefully rocks him back and forth until his wailing fades. “Sorry about this, kiddo.” She whispers, planting a kiss on her child’s forehead before limping toward the closet with the aid of the sword.

  “My lord!” Shouts the young captain of the guard, “Thorn hasn’t reported back yet. How should we proceed?”

  Gelmidas wipes his glasses, placing them back on his face.

  “Move in.”

  The captain falls back into the ranks of the dozen men surrounding Gelmidas. They all make for the hilts of their swords and enter battle positions as they breach the door. The blades shine, exploding from their sheaths in synchronicity like blooming flower petals as they flutter into the main room.

  Gelmidas steps forward, separating himself from his guard and spotting the corpses of Thorn and Helena.

  He curses the fallen sergeant; Thorn was an idiot to kill the girl. Now, any fraction of a chance there was of reasoning with Nadeden is as dead as he is.

  Gelmidas tightens his fists.

  At least he can control his fingers even if they’re twitching.

  “Lord, she isn’t here, neither is the child.”

  “I can see that, Captain.”

  “How should we proo-”

  Gelmidas abruptly strikes the captain, leaving a sizable bruise on the side of their cheek.

  The men all turn to him.

  Their eyes of disbelief wait for their Emperor to explain himself, “Find her.” Gelmidas snarls before exiting the room.