Shanna claps her hands, grinning, “So can I get you something to drink?”

  Nadeden is taken aback by the offer. She flexes her hand around the point of the walking stick she sharpened specifically for this task.

  “Relax, I know you don’t drink. I have tea if you don’t want alcohol, but I’m telling ya, you’re missing out if you’ve never had Martian whiskey!” Shanna states, hurrying off to a cabinet, pulling out a large glass bottle of murky liquid and a twin pair of shot glasses.

  Nadeden remains dumbfounded. “Shanna, I-”

  “Nadeden,” Shanna holds out a palm to silence her as she pours herself a shot, “Can’t you let me indulge myself before you ram that shitty excuse for a spear into my neck or stomach or wherever the fuck? Is that so much to ask?”

  Nadeden flips the walking stick, stabbing the pointed end into the floorboard as she limps over to the table with the whiskey.

  Shanna smiles warmly at the gesture. “You do have to admit how poetic this all is. Or ironic, I should say. I don’t know, I was never as well read as the boys in our merry little band were, but you and I sure accepted our roles as the fighters of the group quite well, didn’t we?”

  “I suppose.” Nadeden takes the shot glass that Shanna hands to her, standing idle as Shanna pours into it. “But if you’re trying to say that we were the only heavy hitters, you’re severely underestimating Davon.”

  “Ah.” Shanna places the bottle back on the hardwood table before gulping down her shot in one dramatic swig. “The magician. I’m not so sure about him. Even before his upgrade, Davon was more spy and saboteur than soldier.” Shanna explains, examining the state of Nadeden as she places down her glass, “Is he the one who did that to you?”

  Nadeden grasps the wound on her stomach at the question. The bandages need replacing more than she needs rest. “He did. He ambushed me in space.”

  “Really? What type of ship?

  “Gelatin, but he zapped me out of there before attacking.”

  “So he fought you in zero gravity?” Shanna exclaims in disbelief, slamming her hands down, shaking the table.

  “Yes.” Nadeden flatly states.

  “Whoa,” Shanna gasps, pouring another shot. “Is he dead?”

  Nadeden shrugs, “Don’t know, didn’t see a body. Chances are he portalled out, but…” Nadeden trails off, looking into Shanna’s eyes.

  She wonders if she should say it, but figures that a violent outburst will give her cause to go through with what she came here to do: “I managed to kill Orson.”

  Shanna goes deafly silent at the words, needing a full minute before she can coldly exhale out a “Shit…” Her voice fades as she once again swallows the harsh liquid. It only returns once she reaches for the bottle and pours another glass.

  The reaction surprises Nadeden, but not as much as Shanna holding up her glass to toast “To Orson, then.”

  Nadeden holds up her glass as well, clinking it into Shanna’s, “To Orson.” Nadeden finally joins Shanna in drinking the rough whiskey.

  “How about we step out for some air?” Shanna proposes before walking past the table back to the doorway, taking the bottle and glasses with her.

  Nadeden follows, the walking stick stabs into the worn floorboards with every step. The effort it takes her to walk with one leg is nothing compared to the effort it’s taking to resist impaling Shanna right here and now. Nadeden pushes down the urge as she plants herself down in the rocking chair beside Shanna, who is already seated in its twin.

  “I heard you talked to old man Cusack.”

  “I did,” Nadeden states, flatter than the wood of the chair that she now presses her back against.

  “I’m guessing you told him that his son is dead.”

  “Yep.” Nadeden flatly states again.

  “What was his name again?”

  “Hadel.” Nadeden’s tone is as flat as a thin sheet of paper now.

  It grows even flatter as she elaborates, “Hadel helped me save Smith back on Terra-gilma, and Helena helped me save Adamus back on the central Division planet. That’s twice now that someone from the Cusack family has died on my watch. All because of my selfishness.”

  Shanna scratches her neck in an uncertain confusion. “Doesn’t sound that selfish to me by the sound of it.”

  “No.” Nadeden sighs, “The only reason Smith is even with me is because he helped me get a ship to escape Terra-gilma. I did save his life from a gang, but that was a split-second decision. Even when I reunited with him after my fight with Davon, I think I only came back for him because I felt guilty. Honestly, the only reason we’ve stuck together is because we haven’t gotten the opportunity to split up.”

  “You say all that, but he still brought you here so you could get medical treatment,” Shanna remarks while tilting her chair back and forth, sending it into a rocking motion.

  “I-” Nadeden scrambles for the words only to find them out of reach.

  She twists her hand over her walking stick again as she goes silent.

  The imagined voice of Gelmidas bites into her mind, “Why are you just sitting around? Hurry up and kill her already before she talks more nonsense.”

  The instant Nadeden has the thought, Shanna speaks, “So am I gonna be the only one asking the questions tonight, or are you gonna spit it out already?” She leans forward, handing a freshly poured glass to Nadeden, who takes it while scrutinizing the odd request, “Spit what out?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Shanna laughs. “I could see the shock on your face when I found you in the forest, you’re wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.”

  “I know, Shanna.” Nadeden sighs, “I know more than most, trust me. That’s why I didn’t want to do this in front of your family, something that you and the others didn’t have the dignity to do.” She hammers down the shot, holding out her arm toward Shanna, beckoning her for more whiskey without even looking at her.

  Shanna hesitantly pours. “I appreciate that, and if it helps at all. I never wanted to track you down after you ran off, but I was just-”

  “Just following orders. Of course. That’s what we all say, that’s how we all justify it.”

  Shanna pours another shot for herself, quickly drinking it as Nadeden speaks. “Some of them just need the excuse, Shanna. We’re all born animals. Kicking and screaming. That was why I had to run. I couldn’t let Adamus become that. I couldn’t let him become me.”

  “People aren’t all bad, Nadeden.”

  “No. You were right back then. All those years ago. I can’t fight my nature. I’m the Scorched Archer, not even the Gods can change that.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, don’t start with that tragic, moody shit, Nadeden.” Shanna mutters before spitting out, “Fuck the Gods, fuck the Republic, and fuck the Division. That shit doesn’t matter.”

  She sets down the bottle.

  Nadeden chooses to finally look at her again. As Shanna rocks in the chair, Nadeden notices just how much they’ve both aged.

  “You were the one who was right, Nadeden. Twelve years ago, I would have never even thought about living the life I do now, but things change. You meet people. People who make you discover things about yourself. People who are kind to you when they have every right not to be. Eventually, they become people you’d die for.”

  Nadeden sips from her glass, sparing some of the liquid. “Your Wife and Son?” She asks.

  Shanna smiles. “Yeah.”

  The pair of old soldiers sit on the porch rocking back and forth in their chairs, watching the night sky for quite some time.

  Nadeden stares up at the stars as she always has. Shanna is only now beginning to spot the constellations for the first time.

  The night air is calm, cool, and quiet.

  It cuts into both of them.

  “Well, isn’t that nice?” Whispers the young Gelmidas within Nadeden’s thoughts, “So I guess you have to let her live now, huh?”

  “Mom!” Julius shouts as he runs onto the porch, leaping into Shanna’s arms.

  “Looks like someone missed you.” Panam comments, adjusting her braided hair before turning to ask, “You Nadeden?”

  Nadeden only gives a nod in response.

  “You’ve been the talk of the town lately, and for obvious reasons. But a friend of Shanna’s is a friend of mine.” Panam holds out her hand with a gentle and welcoming smile.

  Julius looks on from Shanna’s arms, his eyes meet the muddied bandana covering her eyelid that seems to have been burned over a lifetime ago. Even here. Back in this place. It feels like a lifetime ago, and somehow also feels like yesterday.

  It’s almost like it’s still happening, happening right now, happening right in front of her. It’s all burning right in front of her.

  Her body is burning right in front of her. His body is on fire right in front of her. The hand before her is on fire. Her home is burning.

  Burning on and on.

  They are standing in the center of it. They did it. He did it.

  He’s watching her from the flames.

  She clutches her palms over her face. Sweat is pouring over her. She’s warm. Burning up. She’s on fire.

  She’s the Scorched Archer, the young girl drenched in blood again.

  “I’m sorry,” Nadeden mutters, reaching for her walking stick, the tool that she sharpened into a weapon. She falls out of the chair as she clutches it. Panam reaches down to help her as Shanna stands, still holding Julius.

  “Are you alright? Do you need help?” The family all ask in unison as she stabs into the floorboards of the porch. Nadeden fights to stand as she gazes at the broken shot glass.

  “I’m sorry.” She mutters again.

  “I just… I’m sorry, Shanna.” Nadeden takes off into the night, limping with every step.

  Why did it have to be this place?

  She should have known.

  She should have realized that it was the same planet sooner.

  She leapt without thinking again. She always acts without any thought.

  Nadeden walks past the few cabins that stand at the edge of the village.

  She can’t help but imagine the fresh wood of the abodes smoldering into ash as she nears the exit.

  She hasn’t cried yet, but is overwhelmed with emotion. She’s nearly bursting at the seams with it. It has worked its way from the wound on her chest to the tips of her dirtied fingers. She can’t let it out. She can’t do anything to let it out. She can’t find the strength to laugh or cry or kill or hurt or do anything to drive this thing that boils inside her.

  At the end of the village by the gate, she looks back one last time and sees Smith lying in a graveyard.

  She watches his eyes widen at the sight of her, like he’s just seen a ghost.

  Then she watches him turn his head away from her, just like he did when she was pushed to the mud.

  Nadeden gathers her strength, taking all that emotion that’s built up in her and planting it down with every step.

  She knows that she’ll come to regret this. In fact, it might end up being her biggest regret yet.

  But she knows she has to do it.

  She has to do it, no matter what.

  Every step has led her here.

  To this moment at the end of everything.

  She has nothing left.

  Nothing except Smith.

  “I’m sorry.” She says to him as the cold night air strikes both of them at the center of the graveyard.

  “I’m sorry that I ever dragged you into this. I’m sorry that I helped put you into a human body. I’m sorry that I’ve been so reckless. I’m sorry that I almost got you killed. I’m sorry that I saved you. I’m sorry that you had to save me. I’m sorry that I killed all those people, and I’m sorry I brought you here, but most of all, I’m sorry that I haven’t been honest with you.”

  Smith looks up at Nadeden. He shifts away from the grave he’s leaning against.

  “Yeah, clearly.” He states in annoyance, standing up as Nadeden reads her name on the headstone.

  She sighs, a hearty, exasperated, exhausted sigh that has been waiting an eternity to come out.

  “I told you the truth back on Terra-gilma, Gelmidas did burn my home down, but as you can see, there were plenty of survivors. It was my fault, though, Smith, it was all my fault, and I can’t live with it anymore. Especially now that I’m back here. I just-”

  She stops herself, moving her eyes from her grave up to Smith.

  He would be nearly the same age as him if he had somehow survived all those years ago.

  If only she could see him again.

  If only she could hold him in her arms again.

  If only she could have watched him grow up.

  If only Adamus hadn’t died in that fire.

  “He murdered my son, Smith. He was his father, and he chose to burn our son as I watched. That’s why I need to kill Gelmidas, because I loved him and because he killed our own son.”

  Smith sits back down. Nadeden sits as well, finally allowing her tattered, worn, burned body to rest as she drives out the surge of emotions that have built up inside of her by telling Smith the truth.

  The whole truth.

  From beginning to end.