Nveh awoke in perfect peace. A high white ceiling stretched above him, with soft sunlight just beginning to peek over the many windowsills that lined the wall behind him. On the sheets that paled in comparison to Rhian’s, he didn’t even need to glance around to know where he was: the sight of the infirmary ceiling was something he had gotten far too accustomed to over the years. But this was all wrong. He shouldn’t have woken up. What happened? Where was Rhian?

     His breath hitched, and he shot up, glancing around the room. But the only other beds that were occupied were those being used by other guards, all fast asleep. There was a small discomfort in his chest, but he couldn’t tell whether it was caused by the poison or thinking of the one he used it on. Nveh went slack and slammed back onto the sickbed. Halfway between despair and hysteria, quietly crying and laughing, he put his forearm over his eyes.

     Why was it that his poisoning only failed when he needed it the most?

     “Sir Nveridius, you’re awake!” The silvery voice pierced his thoughts, and he scrambled to recompose himself. He sat up in the bed, in time to witness a young boy running to his bedside with a pile of rags. With the sun barely having risen, the boy’s clothes and hair were already ruffled and he was almost out of breath, but he seemed reinvigorated at the sight of Nveh’s wellbeing.
     “E-Emil. Good morning,” Nveh greeted the squire.
     “Good morning, Sir! Are you feeling better? The physicians and clerics said it’s a miracle you survived—I mean, you’ve been unconscious for a few days, and everyone was super worried about you and—oh, don’t worry, all the knights and us squires have been…” Emil’s voice continued, and the enthusiastic rambling only reminded Nveh of how much Emil admired him. But there were more important things weighing on his mind than specifics of his affliction. After all, who would know it better than himself?
     “My apologies for interrupting, but what exactly happened?” He spoke slowly, dread creeping into his confusion.
     “Oh, sorry, that’s more important. You and the viscount—the… late viscount were poisoned.”
Nveh was petrified. He didn’t need any explanation. He knew he succeeded. But only in part.
     “The Honor Guard has been searching for the culprit.” Emil paused, trying to gauge Nveh’s reaction, but there was none visible. “The funeral happened a couple days ago. Sorry. I heard about how you two grew up together. This is… probably really hard for you.”

     Emil’s poor attempts to console Nveh were drowned out. Shock, dismay, disbelief, and pain wracked every part of Nveh. After a few more moments of the uncomfortable silence, Emil took his leave, reminding Nveh that he just had to call for him, and the squire would do whatever he needed. There wasn’t anything that anyone else could do, though. It was all too much, but he absolutely couldn’t let himself be seen like this.

     A deep breath to steady himself made his throat ache. He would be able to let himself despair after he returned to his quarters. Only after Nveh stood up did he truly begin to feel the aftereffects of his atrocity. His legs were weak, almost buckling under him. His chest and throat were searing, but the pain eased as he slowed his breath. Nveh couldn’t be completely sure how much of it was due to the poison and how much of it was due to his regrets. Supporting himself slightly on the beds that he passed by, Nveh slowly made his way towards the exit of the infirmary. As he pressed his hand on the foot of one of the beds, he felt his right middle finger above the rest. Looking at the cause of the strange sensation, he saw the ring Rhian presented him with when he became the Honor Guard Captain. He had gotten so used to the feeling of wearing it, but this time, it tore at him. Tears pricked at his eyes. Even more difficult than before, he attempted to cover the majority of his pain, trying to carry himself as the steadfast, competent knight that others always knew him as.

     Walking became slightly easier as he continued, and it was all that he could do to distract himself from the emptiness that overtook his entirety. To Nveh, the halls of the estate that he knew so well seemed estranged. The walls were lined with grand windows, each of them bearing curtains that were uniformly pulled back. There wasn’t a single part that wouldn’t be draped in sunlight, given a few more hours. And in that same time, these halls would have many more servants, guards, and even some bureaucrats each performing their respective duties. But in the early morning, there weren’t many people out: at most, he passed a couple workers trading off shifts and a squire or two doing busywork. Other than those short instances, there were no others around. His labored footsteps echoed through the halls, punctuating what would otherwise be dead silence. He shouldn’t have been affected by any of it, but after hearing the news of Rhian’s death, it was different. Nothing felt real.

     Nveh eventually reached his personal quarters. He quickly shut himself in, too fatigued to even notice that his room had been maintained while he was unconscious. He collapsed onto his bed, laying face down, idle. But idleness was a mistake when his thoughts ran rampant.

     The memories flashed in his head: the time Nveh challenged Rhian to a friendly spar and ended up breaking his own training blade; the things Rhian said when he first started flirting with Nveh; an instance when they went hunting and Rhian turned it into a competition before losing miserably; and the first time Rhian came to this room and gave Nveh this ring. He loved each one of them deeply, but they reminded him of just how horrible he was.

     He couldn’t fend off the guilt that plagued him. Nveh never wanted to think that magnicide—mariticide—was the right choice. But he knew that he was deluding himself. For so long, he had gone about, executing all of the things and people Rhian requested of him. For so long, he pretended not to notice the people in disrepair, seeing them steal and kill out of necessity. For so long, he tried to justify both of their actions. Even after it all—because of it all, they fell into the worst fate that could have awaited them. Nveh caused it.

     He caused it all, yet he was the one who lived.

     The tears began to flow. Nveh’s shoulders jumped with his sobs. His throat felt as constricted as it did during their last night. Was this torment his atonement?