Gabby stood outside the door and shuffled her feet.  She didn’t know why she was so nervous about the idea of talking with a priest of sorts, but she was.  Even though it was an Otharian priest instead of a Catholic priest, and even though he came from a religion fairly dissimilar to her own, she found herself dreading the conversation.  She felt like she would be judged, and facing judgment from a clergyman of any faith felt different than from everybody else.  Maybe it was just because of how she was raised.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Gabby pressed the doorbell.  She heard the doorbell’s familiar insistent beeping start up—all the rooms had the same chime, hers included—followed by a series of thumps.  The door slid open, giving Gabriela her first-ever view of the office of Leo Feldmanis, Chief of Staff under Blake and arguably the most important and powerful person in the country.  While Blake could destroy Otharia through action, it was said that Leo could destroy it through inaction.  All it would take for the nation to fall to pieces would be for him to take a week or two off.

One look inside at the man’s office suggested that it was all true.  Piles of paper covered practically every flat surface in her vision, stacked high enough that she worried she would knock one over just from stepping too hard as she walked by.  At least, to her comfort, there existed a cleared path into the chamber so she wouldn’t have to step over any paperwork.  The worst of it all was the desk in the back of the room.  Much of it was covered in paper stacks so high that they threatened to touch the ceiling.

From that desk, two eyes peered at her between the stacks.  “Madam Carreno?  Is it already time for... ah yes, I see it is.  Would you give me several moments to finish this up?”  Gabby nodded.  “Thank you.  I’ll be right with you shortly.”

The door slid back shut, leaving Gabby once more at the mercy of her thoughts.  Thankfully, the door reopened not more than five minutes later and the Otharian beckoned her inside.  He’d somehow cleared off much of his desk, giving her a window through which to see him in full for the first time—the two of them had not ever had the need nor opportunity to meet until now.

Between growing up at the orphanage and the rather devout lifestyle such an upbringing had imparted on her, Gabriela Carreno had met more than her fair share of priests, and so she knew that they came in all manner of shapes and sizes.  However, somehow, they all managed to look like priests.  While not Catholic, Leo also somehow appeared entirely priestly.

The man looked to be in his late forties, with a round head lined only on the sides with short brown hair in a classic example of male pattern baldness.  He was just about as tall as she was, as far as she could tell, which was actually a bit above average for male adults she’d seen in Otharia—but not elsewhere;  Otharians tended to be shorter than the rest, probably at least in part due to the decades of food supply issues.  Her gaze was drawn first to his broad, flat nose, and then upwards to his eyes.  They looked kind but tired and a little worried.  She found no judgment in them—not yet, at least.

“I am sorry to intrude,” she began as she laid her sword down beside the chair he gestured her towards and lowered herself down into it.  It was a comfortable chair, lined with soft fabric and stuffed full of something plushlike.  “I know that you are always very busy.”

“Nonsense!” he replied, waving away her apologies.  “It’s nice to engage in the primary purpose of my profession for once.  Though administration is—was—a standard aspect of a Voice’s responsibilities, that was not what drew me to the vocation.  I joined because I wanted to help guide people through the trials of life.  Things did not exactly turn out as I had expected, but...”  He let out a long exhalation through his nostrils.  “Anyway, you’re not here to listen to me prattle on.  Lord Ferros said you desired my counsel, is that right?”

“Y-yes...  We are supposed to talk with holy men of other religions if... if there are no Catholic priests available and we... and we need... guidance.”

“Well, I am more than happy to give whatever guidance I can.  Please, tell me what troubles you so.”

Gabriela found herself tensing up.  Why was it so hard for her to speak about this when she’d spoken about it several times before?

“I don’t know what to do to... move past what I’ve done.  It sounds wrong to even say it.  I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven.  I did... terrible things.  Much of the time, I think that I shouldn’t be allowed to escape this burden, but... I can’t keep living every day like this, either.  I don’t know what to do.

“I thought that if I helped the people here then some of the pain would go away, but it didn’t.  I hoped that maybe once we saved Pari that I would feel a little better, but I don’t.  I can still feel sin on my soul.  I feel... lost.”

“I see,” came the reply.  “I have an idea of your actions already, but I would like to hear them from you, if you would.”

The man’s stern gaze pressed down upon her, its weight overcoming her hesitation to once more put words to past events.  And so, slowly, one word at a time, she began to tell her tale, starting from the very beginning.

When she was finally finished, the Scyrian steepled his fingers and gazed at her solemnly for a moment.  “Madam Carreno, let us imagine that you are back on your world.  Tell me, in a simplified sense, how you and your faith would address this.”

“Well, first I would confess my sins to my priest.  Then, he would assign me a penance to perform to match the level of my sins.  Upon completing the penance, I would be forgiven in the eyes of the Lord.”

“I see.  A simple structure—far simpler than the Church of Othar’s, to be sure—but a workable one.  However, given what you have told me today, I fail to imagine what sort of actions would match the magnitude of your deeds well enough for you to earn this forgiveness.”

As much as she had expected to hear something along those lines, the words still felt like a punch to the gut.  Gabby involuntarily shrank a little into the chair.

“However, if I may be so frank, I highly doubt achieving a state of forgiveness from and being cleansed of sin by the deity you worship would accomplish much of what ails you.  It would help somewhat, I’m sure, but I don’t see it addressing what I believe to be the core issue here.”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

“Then, I shall say it clearly.  You say that you feel lost, and this is because you are searching for a way to accept the deeds which you have done.  However, you cannot accept them because you have yet to accept the truth about yourself: you have changed.  You are clinging to an image of the person whom you once were, the person before you came here.  You feel lost because you hate the person you have become, and yet you cannot find a way back to the person you used to be—and you won’t.  As much as you might wish it wasn’t true, the Madam Carreno of the past is not somebody that you can return to.”

“Then, what am I to do?  How can I go on living with this torment burning inside me?”

“You must learn to accept who and what you are now, not your idealized past self.  It will not be easy.  I believe your best option is to seek forgiveness of a somewhat different sort—personal rather than spiritual, though there is a good deal of overlap between the two.  Unfortunately, the forgiveness you require cannot be found in this room, nor anywhere in this nation.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean that the forgiveness you seek cannot come from me, or Pari, or anyone else in all of Otharia, for that matter.  It can only come from the people whom you wronged, directly and indirectly—people, I must note, that you have gone out of your way to avoid.”

“B-but I—!”

“During the war, you were kept in a bubble.  You did not have to face the ramifications of your actions.  The one time that was not the case, you retreated into yourself for days and days instead of dealing with what you found.  Now that the war is over, have you stepped into Eterium or Gustil even once?  No, you have not.  You have chosen to hide away here and stew in your guilt rather than reckon directly with the pain you’ve brought into this world, and until that changes, your suffering will continue.  Only out there will you find the forgiveness that you are searching for.

“I can’t tell you what you will find out there or what you should do with what you encounter—that will be up to you.  Still, it is the only way.  There is no amount of penance I can prescribe that will bring you to where you desire to be.  I can only point you in the right direction, and that direction is the war-ravaged lands beyond our borders.  Do you understand?”

“I...”  Gabby wanted to protest but found herself unable to.  Something about his tone and the stern authority with which he spoke forced her to accept his words not just as true, but as something she’d known for a long time but refused to acknowledge.  He truly was a priest.  “I understand, Father.”

Gabby winced at the slip at the end, but the Otharian either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Excellent!” he said with a warm smile.  “I wish you luck on your travels, wherever they may lead you.  Now, if you don’t mind, there is still much more that I must do before my day is over.”

*     *     *

“You’re doing what?” Blake sputtered.

“I’m leaving Otharia.”

“When, now?”

“Yes.  Right now.”

“...are you coming back?”

Gabriela shrugged.  “I can’t say.  We both know that I stayed here more than anything else because I didn’t know where else to go, not because you all wanted me here.”

“I guess that’s true, but... I don’t know, it hasn’t been so bad having you around, really.  You’re welcome to come back whenever.”

“Only God knows what the future holds, but I will keep that in mind.”

“Oh!  Here!”  Blake pulled a small chunk of metal from his desk as if it were made of dough and fiddled with it.  A moment later, he handed her a thin disk about six centimeters in diameter with a tiny crystal embedded in the center.  “Take this with you, just in case.”

“What is it?”

“I guess we’ll call it the ‘Gabby Summoner’.  If you feel it buzzing, it means we need you back here asap.  Just in case we need you.  I won’t use it unless there’s an absolute emergency, I promise.”

“Alright.”  She tucked the disk into a pocket.

“Good luck,” he offered.  “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” she said.  It was a shame she couldn’t say the same.

*     *     *

Gabriela paused outside the large and lavish inn located in the southwest quadrant of Wroetin.  She adjusted her pack, making sure it wasn’t rubbing up against the Sword of Eternity—not for the first time, she found herself wishing that the Sword had come with a Sheath; its incredibly sharp edge had the annoying tendency to carve through things like backpacks and other important items if she wasn’t careful with it.  Even so, she refused to leave it back in the fortress, no matter how much more convenient it would be.  Ever since that terrible day when she’d watched Pari die, all because she’d left the sword locked away deep in the fortress, Gabby had sworn to never let it leave her side again.  It didn’t matter how inconvenient it was or how much she hated it; better she be inconvenienced than another innocent child die because she couldn’t stand how the blade reminded her of her past choices.

Once the pack and sword were back in order, Gabby prepared herself for the conversations ahead, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.  The lobby interior looked to be constructed entirely of marble polished to a glistening sheen, something found only in the poshest locations in the nation.  Such wealth was considerably more common and exorbitant elsewhere; the janitor’s closet in the Ubran Imperial Palace made this place look like a hovel in comparison.  Still, for Otharia at least, this inn easily placed in the top five most luxurious businesses.  That, Gabby had no doubt, was why Chitra had decided to stay here.

The receptionist eyed Gabby with suspicion, his gaze flickering—in that way she had grown so used to now, much to her dismay—between her face and the gleaming blade poking out from behind her body.  “What business might you have here, madam?” he inquired none too politely.

“I’ve come to visit Chitra Batranala,” she informed him, ignoring his tone.  As an Elseling, some combination of hostility and fear was the standard reaction she received from strangers.  In this case, Gabby assumed that the man’s disapproving tone came not just from the fact that she was an Elseling but even more so from the fact that she in no way appeared wealthy.  It was the same look she had sometimes gotten from CEOs and other “important” business types while cleaning office buildings.  Though they’d needed her, they’d resented her presence.

At her words, the man’s eyes went wide with recognition, and a wide grin sprouted where his scowl had been just a moment ago.  “Ah, yes!  Now that I recall, Lady Chitra did leave instructions to allow someone resembling your appearance to visit her chambers at any time.  My apologies, madam.  The Lady should be in her chambers on the fourth floor.  Just head up those stairs and take a left.”

Gabriela resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  It figured that, while just as much an Elseling as the rest of them, “Lady” Chitra would get special treatment.  Not that Gabby didn’t understand.  She’d watched the woman melt men into puddles with nothing but a smile.  Nobody was immune to the former Batranala’s beauty.  Even Gabby occasionally found herself forgetting what she was doing and just staring at the woman, most especially during the rare occasions when she’d dance.  The way that she’d step and sway...  Gabby shook her head to clear those thoughts from her mind.  She had come here on a mission, and the sooner she completed said mission, the better.

The double doors to Chitra’s quarters were two full-sized doors made from some sort of solid hardwood, the surface of each carved with exquisitely detailed depictions of leafy vines winding around them.  Gabby gripped the knocker and, after a slight moment of hesitation, knocked twice.

The left door opened not more than a second later, revealing the Ubran woman in all her grace and glory.  She gasped in surprise, flashing that trademark man-slaying smile, and swept Gabby inside.

“I had not expected you to come and visit me like this, Gabby,” Chitra admitted.  “Though we spend so much time together, it’s always at the orphanage or other such locations, never here.  I was starting to think you were spurning my invitations.”

“I feel unwelcome in places like this,” she confessed.  “I’m sorry to intrude without warning.”

“Oh, enough with the humility!  Your arrival is a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.  Come, take that off and sit down.”

Chitra practically ripped the pack off of Gabby’s back, grabbing the sword with care and laying it carefully on its flat side beside the pack.  She then promptly ushered her visitor to a nearby chair.  The seat was upholstered with fine, supple leather and stuffed to capacity with something even softer and more comfortable than the chair in Leo’s office.

Sitting down, Gabriela truly looked around at the room for the first time.  Somehow, the place she found herself in was many times more ostentatious than the rest of the inn that she’d seen combined.  Plush carpet covered the floor, silks hung over the windows, the furniture was covered in ornate engravings and lined with gold... even the candlesticks looked to be made of solid gold!

“This room is... quite something,” she remarked.

“It is, isn’t it?” Chitra agreed as she walked out of Gabby’s view and started doing something with what sounded like water and china.  “The dears here are so sweet.  They work hard to help make me comfortable, and I can’t help but appreciate their tireless efforts.  It really makes me feel at home.”

Right, Gabby remembered.  Even this room couldn’t compare with the Ubran palace, where Chitra had spent much of her life.  “How did the innkeepers manage to afford all of this?”

“They didn’t,” Chitra informed her.  “They made some important contributions, mind you, but they are merely innkeepers in the end—Otharian innkeepers, at that.”

“But then, where did all of this...”

Her question faded off as Chitra walked back into view, two steaming cups in her hands and a grin that looked downright predatory on her lips.  She handed Gabby one of the cups filled with a brown and purple liquid that passed for tea in Otharia.

“You’d be amazed at the sorts of wealth that wealthy men will give away to curry favor with a pretty face,” she snickered as she seated herself opposite Gabby.  “They’ve made me rather comfortable, enough to live well here for quite some time.”

“I see.”

“Honestly, given how long I’ve been here now and how often we see each other, I’m surprised that it took so long for this to come up.”

Gabby set down her untouched drink onto an adjacent side table.  “About all that.  I came to tell you that I’m leaving.  I wanted to say farewell before I go.”

Chitra cocked an eyebrow.  “Gabby, dear, you’re going to need to give me at least some details to work with, here.”

Quickly, Gabriela explained her conversation with Leo.

“It’s a real shame that you are still suffering from these... issues,” Chitra sighed when Gabby’s story had drawn to a close.  “We’ve already talked about this enough to drive one mad.  You did not single-handedly start an invasion, you merely sped up the inevitable.”

“I know you think I shouldn’t feel so much guilt-”

“I do,” Chitra interrupted.  “It’s foolish and counterproductive.  But, that is beside the point right now.  Despite knowing the truth, your hangups persist, so it would be wise to try to deal with them and halt this mental anguish you insist on needlessly inflicting upon yourself.  If there is a chance that this dubious quest you seem so set on will cure what ails you, then it’s at least worth attempting.”  She stood up, seemingly having decided upon something.  “Very well.  Give me a few moments to pack, if you don’t mind.”

“Wait wait wait!” Gabby sputtered.  “What do you mean, pack?!”

“I’m coming with you, obviously,” Chitra stated as if it were the most natural thing in the world before disappearing into an adjacent room.

“But this is my journey!  My responsibility!  There’s no reason you have to come too!” Gabriela objected, jumping up and chasing after the Ubran.  Following her footsteps, Gabby found herself in a large bedroom that rivaled the living room in its affluence.

Chitra stood by the opposite wall facing an open wardrobe, carefully considering the variety of outfits held within.

“Really, Chitra,” Gabby protested as she marched around the massive four-post bed to where her companion stood.  “This is too much!”

“Is there a requirement that you partake in this alone?” Chitra responded, still inspecting dresses.  “Just wandering around Nocend by yourself, confronting your victims on Gabriela Carreno’s Grand Suffering Expedition?”

“Well, I mean, he didn’t say I needed to do it by myself,” Gabby admitted.

“Then why must you insist upon subjecting yourself to potentially ruinous emotional stress all on your lonesome when isolation is not required?”

“I...”  Gabby didn’t know how to put her hesitation into words.

Somehow, though, Chitra did.  “You worry that my presence will disrupt things, that I’ll keep you in too high spirits and somehow shield you from the heartrending encounters that you are leaving to find.”

“Well, basically...”

“In that case, if you worry that my presence will only interfere, I will simply remove myself when the time comes.  Or, if you so desire, I can involve myself by your side as well and take on the culpability allotted me.”

“What culpability?  I’m the one who killed thousands upon thousands of people there, not you.”

“Come now, dear.  If we must operate under this foolish premise of blame, then did I not push you to go down your path?  Did I not support you all the while?  Strange, that you would think me blameless in all that happened.”

“But you were just doing your job!”

“And you were merely performing your role as much as I.  Face it, Gabby; as set as you may be on creating blame and then taking it all upon your shoulders, by your logic, there’s more than enough for all of us—you, me, the Emperor, his generals, every soldier, and perhaps even all of Ubrus itself.  We are all guilty... by your definition, at least.”

Gabriela let out a heavy exhalation of defeat.  “Well... if you really insist-”

“I do.”

“-then... alright.  I guess you can come as well.”

“I’m glad we could come to an understanding.  Now go relax on the bed or something until I’m finished.  I’ll be ready before you know it.”

Not more than half an hour later, the two of them stood outside the inn.  They presented a study of contrasts—Gabby, with her somewhat frumpy appearance, rugged clothes, giant sword, and massive backpack, standing next to Chitra, with her gorgeous looks, elegant Chinese-style dress, and smaller, fashionable pack hanging off one shoulder.  Few people seeing them would assume they were together.

“So, I just thought of a problem,” Gabby said, turning to look up at the taller Scyrian.  “How are you going to keep up with me?”

“Were you not going to use one of those walking machines?”

“No, I was just going to run.  I’m much faster than those things.”

“Well then, I guess there is only one option left: you will have to carry me.”

Gabriela choked on her saliva.

*     *     *

A few hours later, the pair crossed the Otharian border into Eterium, and for Gabby, it wasn’t a moment too soon.  Despite Gabby’s protests, Chitra had not just insisted on being carried, but that it be a certain way: like a princess, with Gabby’s one arm around Chitra’s back, her other arm beneath Chitra’s legs, and Chitra’s arms wrapped around Gabby’s neck.   It was like she was reclining in a lawn chair made out of Gabby’s limbs.  The significance of this carrying method seemed lost on Chitra, but it left Gabby mortified every time they passed by somebody.

“We should be nearing Obosall any time now,” Chitra spoke into the wind.  “Did you desire to stop there?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t really have a concrete plan,” Gabby admitted.

“I believe it would be best for us to tarry there at least for a moment.  The people here would know the state of their nation better than Otharia.  What they tell us would likely help you find what you seek more quickly.”

“You have a point.”

“Then, let me down here where nobody can see us and let us walk the rest of the way.  You can leave the negotiating to me.”

Gabby consented and set the Ubran daintily down on her feet.

“Gabby, dear, you’re bright red,” Chitra observed.  “Are you all right?  Carrying me shouldn’t have been that taxing for you, could it?”

“No, no,” Gabby replied, perhaps too quickly, “I’m fine.”

“Gabby, now, especially, is not the time to keep your pain to yourself.  If there’s something wrong, say so.”

“It’s nothing.”

Chitra didn’t respond with anything more than an unconvinced look.  The gaze was stern enough that Gabby wilted within short order.

“I-It’s... just that... the way you insisted I carry you was... really embarrassing,” Gabby confessed.

“Embarrassing?  How so?  It’s nothing more than a simple way to carry a person, is it not?”

“W-well... on Earth, it’s... it’s how a groom carries his bride when they get married,” she squeaked out.

After a moment of stunned silence, Chitra burst out in riotous laughter.

“Oh, Gabby, sometimes you can be such a little honey bun.  If I can get this adorable reaction from accidentally teasing you, maybe I should start doing it on purpose.”

"No, thank you,” Gabriela groaned.

Chitra’s laughter continued for some time as they walked the final kilometer to Obosall.  It wasn’t until they crested a small hill and spotted the low city walls in the distance that she adopted her usual decorum.

Gabby said nothing as her friend suddenly shifted from snickering jester to elegant temptress.  She knew from many months shared together that the Batranala’s usual persona was a front of sorts, a sort of social armor constructed to do battle in the high-pressure courts of the Ubran Imperial Palace.  In a way, Gabby treasured those extremely rare moments when her companion was either comfortable or off-balance enough that the mask would momentarily slip.  She had seen more glimpses of the enigmatic woman’s “true” self than perhaps anybody—assuming, of course, that the persona revealed during these moments was, in fact, the real Chitra and not just another front.  All this supposed that the Chitra projected to the world ninety-nine percent of the time was nothing but a big ball of lies, which really wasn’t fair to presume and it wasn’t like the public Chitra was terrible or anything and-

Gabby fiercely shook her head to stop that train of thought before it jumped the tracks.  None of this mattered, anyway.  What mattered was that Chitra was her beloved friend, the person who had, almost single-handedly, kept Gabby sane during the most trying times of her life.  As terrible as she’d felt recently, it couldn’t hold a candle to those torturous first few weeks, when every waking moment had been nothing but emotional agony.  She didn’t know what would have happened to her if Chitra had not been at her side to support her through those terrible days.

Gabriela distracted herself from her thoughts by looking around and taking in their environment as they approached the city.  The first big difference she noticed between Obosall and cities in Otharia was the quality of the roads.  Most of the roads in Otharia were little more than packed dirt; even the roads leading into Wroetin were mostly gravel.  The roads approaching Obosall—until very recently the least important major city in Eterium, if Gabby understood correctly—easily outclassed the roads around the Otharian capital.  The one they walked upon, for example, was wide enough for three carriages to travel down it side by side, their wheels barely bouncing on the smooth, flat paving stones that made up the road’s surface.

“Of course,” Chitra responded when Gabby vocalized her observation.  “Eterium was a country that thrived on trade.  Good, well-maintained roads can be expensive, but the quick and efficient movement of goods that they enable generates profits that greatly exceed the cost.  That friend of yours would be wise to invest more in the infrastructure of his roadways.

“I feel like he has other priorities,” Gabby told her.  She looked around some more, noting the mostly barren earth surrounding the city.  She could spot plant life fighting to reclaim the dirt as its own, but for the most part, little greenery could be found.  All there was to see was desolate ground all the way to the ring of wooden buildings erected around the city walls.  She could see what looked like normal dwellings, as well as a few shops and even an inn or two, almost like a second smaller, poorer town had grown up around the first.

“This place must have been built after the war began,” Chitra mused, evidently on the same mental wavelength as she.  “Initial reports never mentioned the construction outside the walls.  They must be new.  I heard there was a massive influx of refugees to this area.  Perhaps some decided to stay and make something more permanent.”

The pair passed through the shantytown, ignoring the stares of the locals as they went.  Approaching the gate, Gabby fell back and let Chitra do what she did best.  The gorgeous woman worked her magic as only she could, unlocking the gate with little more than a smile.  A moment later, they ambled into the city without even having to pay the standard entry fee.  Gabby couldn’t help but notice with amusement how the heated stares of the three male guards locked on Chitra’s back were matched by the single female guard’s intense yearning gaze.  Chitra was, if anything, an equal opportunity seductress.

Immediately, the Ubran beelined for the most luxurious inn in the city, renting them a room at a discount earned by a pleading frown and some non-specific promises of gratefulness.  There, they dropped off their equipment—the attention-grabbing Sword of Eternity especially—and quickly cleaned themselves before heading back out into the town for what the Batranala called “reconnaissance”.

The Chitra show continued as they proceeded to visit several upscale taverns scattered throughout the city.  Each time, the woman would single out a particular person in the tavern as her target—somehow always a merchant, though Gabby hadn’t the foggiest idea how Chitra could tell at a mere glance; most of them weren’t dressed any different than the other patrons—and within minutes, said target would be spilling their deepest, darkest secrets.

Gabby couldn’t help but stay out of the way and be impressed at how easily the Ubran wrapped them each around her finger; a shy smile here, a petite laugh there, a subtly worded question to get the conversation flowing in the desired direction... Gabby was truly watching a master at work.

That night, the pair sat in their posh room in the city’s most luxurious inn and went over what information Chitra had managed to gather, poring over a detailed map of Eterium that one of Chitra’s victims had insisted she accept as a gift.  Combining all the things they’d learned, they’d managed to construct a fairly good picture of the country as seen through the eyes of the traders who’d been traversing it since the war’s conclusion.

“I suggest we start by heading northwest to visit Krinallen and then proceed to Hankala.  Both villages were utterly ravaged by the war, so you’re very likely to find what you are looking for there.  I was told that Hankala is barely a village anymore; most of the adults had to leave to join the war effort, and only one or two returned alive.  What’s more, that direction will put us in a good position to push into what used to be Gustil, as you said you wanted to do.”

Gabby repressed a flinch at the way Chitra called it “what used to be Gustil” instead of just “Gustil”.  She’d done more than anybody else to destroy that country, personally slaying the vast majority of its leaders and elites, including the royal family.

“Why these smaller villages instead of the cities?  Wouldn’t we find more people we’re looking for in the cities?”

“Several reasons.  First, the cities will still be around later, while these villages may not be.  From the sounds of it, some of the smaller towns like these have been hit so hard that we cannot assume they won’t fall apart entirely in the near future.  Second, you wanted to do this in a personal fashion, right?  Just you and somebody whose life you impacted?  Because going to the cities right away is a surefire way to not get that.  I personally think it would be wise to at least start with smaller groups of people before stepping into a place where your being recognized could cause either mass panic or a riot.”

“You have a point,” Gabby admitted.

“And as to Krinallen and Hankala?”

“Makes sense.  Let’s do it.”

Krinallen was located near the very center of the nation, right on the western edge of the country’s breadbasket and right in between the nation’s two most populous cities—or, most populous before the war, at least.  From there, they could continue traveling northwest to Hankala, going north of Crirada and approaching the Deadlands and the border with Kutrad.   From there, it would be a straight shot west through the Deadlands and past Begale to Gustil.

Begale...  It was the one place where she’d already come to face the consequences of her crimes.  She absolutely had to return there in the future, no matter what, even if she dreaded it.

“So, now that we have a plan for where to go,” Chitra began, “I must confess my curiosity as to your plan for what to do when you arrive.”

“Uh...”

“Gabriela Carreno, are you seriously about to tell me you didn’t think about it yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it some,” Gabby bashfully confessed, “but I’m not sure what to do because I don’t know what I’m walking into.”

“Hmm, you have a bit of a point, I suppose.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Well, it would probably be best to take things somewhat slowly.  Don’t be too forceful.  Just enter the village, perhaps strike up a conversation.”

“But, then what?  Just declare who I am?  That seems... too awkward.”

“I would suggest using the sword.  It’s a very unique, eye-catching, and, dare I say, now infamous weapon.  If there are veterans of the war there, one of them should notice it fairly quickly.  Then, work with their reaction and go from there.”

“I see.  That would work, I guess.  It’s better than anything I have come up with so far.  Thanks.”

“Now, aren’t you glad I came along?” Chitra said with a cheeky grin.

“Yes, thank you,” Gabby admitted.  She couldn’t help but recognize how much help Chitra had been already, just on this first day.  Without her, Gabby’s journey would have surely been far more chaotic and confused.

Chitra sighed and gave a tired smirk in return.  “You’re so genuine, Gabby.  Hopefully, one day, you’ll learn to play the game—if only just a little.  Though, I do appreciate the straightforwardness.

“Now, with all that worked out, I think it’s time I got my beauty sleep.  With all of this beauty, I need a lot of sleep, wouldn’t you agree?”

With that said, Chitra left to prepare for bed.  After her nightly prayers, Gabby followed suit.

The next morning, the pair left the same way they came, walking out of the city and down the road until they were out of sight of everybody.  With an evil giggle, Chitra climbed into Gabby’s arms like before, wrapping her arms around Gabby’s neck and pulling her head up to the side of Gabby’s head.

“Carry me with care, dearest husband,” Chitra whispered into Gabby’s ear.

Gabriela immediately went beet red and Chitra fell into another fit of laughter.  Gabby sighed.  This was going to be a long trip.  Still, teasing travel partner aside, Gabby had a feeling that it would also be a good and fruitful one.

*     *     *

There was a pitchfork lodged in Gabriela’s kidney.  She ignored it for the moment, taking in her situation.

She’d walked into the quaint little town no more than ten minutes ago, her steps fueled by a potent mix of anxiety and hope.  Krinallen would have looked almost picturesque in a better time, Gabby could tell.  A collection of old-fashioned wooden homes dug into the sides of shallow hills to protect against the winds of the rolling plains, the village was surrounded by verdant crop fields that swayed gently in the soft breeze.  In another reality, in another time, she could imagine the place as a very minor tourist destination, the sort of place someone might visit when they just need total relief from the hustle and bustle of modern life.

In the present day, however, not so much.  The place had clearly been through some hard times, and with clear signs of neglect visible even to her layman’s eye.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what would have caused these hard times.

The village had not been very populated when Gabby had strolled in.  Most of the inhabitants that she’d been able to see had been out in the fields, working their trade.  The few who had been in the village had given her wary but curious looks, but that was all.  Then, a teenage boy had stepped out of a nearby home, taken one look at her—or more accurately, the Sword of Eternity strapped to her back—and gasped.  His eyes had gone hard and his face had flushed with anger before he’d sprinted out of sight.

Only a minute or two later, he’d returned, “armed” with a pitchfork and accompanied by a dozen other villagers.  In the blink of an eye, Gabby found herself facing a semicircle of angry villagers.  Gabriela Carreno had been confronted by large groups of hostile people many times since the start of the invasion the year before; this was the first time, however, that her opponents wielded farm implements instead of weapons.  The sudden escalation had been so swift and off-putting that she’d barely noticed the teen boy’s thrust until it stabbed into her side.

“Leave our village alone, you fiend!” the teen, no more than fourteen years old by his appearance, shouted from behind one of the other villagers as he retreated, presumably to find a second makeshift weapon.  The others quickly added their voices in agreement.

“You fools!  What are you doing?!” a middle-aged man as he sprinted in from the fields.  The newcomer took one look at her and visibly paled.

“It’s the Undying Monster, the one you and the others told us about!” the boy shouted back.  “Look at the sword on her back and her black hair!  Who else would have a sword like that?!”

“I know who it is, you stupid boy!” the man spat back.  “You’re going to get us all killed!”

Gabby glanced down at the pitchfork embedded in her kidney.  Two of the coarse iron tines were buried deep into her torso, with the third scraping the skin of her back.  In another time, she would be on the ground, howling in pain, but she had a very different relationship with pain now.  With a sigh, she restored her flesh, eating away at the farm implement until all the metal inside her ceased to exist.  What remained of the pitchfork fell to the dirt with a clang, two tines suddenly missing.

A murmur arose from the small crowd and the looks of fear on their faces only intensified and they all took a step or two back.  This was very much not how she’d hoped this would go.

The older man, seemingly now the leader of the group for no other reason than his obvious experience in the war, weakly pushed through the loose ring of villagers.  “Why have you come here?” he asked, his voice quavering slightly.  He was clearly putting a large amount of effort into not appearing too afraid of her, but his trembling hands betrayed his nerves.

Gabby opened her mouth to respond but found herself lacking a proper answer.  Nothing she could think of really sounded good or right in the moment.  After a long, tense moment, all she managed to get out was “I just want to make things right... undo my mistakes.”

“Make things right?!” the boy howled.  “Bring me my brother back, then, Monster!  You killed him, so make it right!  Or are you only good for killing people who didn’t want anything to do with any of you bloody Ubrans?!”

Gabby could only hang her head in response.

“The boy’s right,” the man told her, his voice finding more steel than before.  “There’s nothing you can do here other than hurt us more than you already have.  We can’t stop you, but I humbly beg you, if you have a heart in that undying body of yours, that you leave this place and never come back.”

“Yeah... alright,” she sighed.  Without another word, Gabriela turned around and started to walk, before pausing and looking back.  “I’m sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ won’t bring back the dead,” the man said.

Gabby had no reply.

Continuing up the road and over the closest hill, Gabby came across a scene that felt like it was from a completely different world than the one she’d just left behind.  When she’d left Chitra, the Ubran woman had been all alone.  Some time since she’d left, however, Chitra had gained three new companions.  The trio of young children, perhaps five or six years old, ran about the slope, giggling as they stayed just barely out of reach as the Batranala chased them—or rather, as she moved just slowly enough to be unable to catch the stubby-legged tykes.

The Scyrian noticed Gabby’s presence quickly and shooed the children away.  They waved as they ran off, and Chitra waved back, a pleasant smile on her face.

“I didn’t know you liked children,” Gabby commented.

“Children are wonderful; they’re incredible mounds of potential.  It’s adults—the vast majority of them who fail to realize even a drop of that potential—that irk me,” came the reply.  Chitra’s brows furrowed and she frowned as she spotted the two new holes in Gabby’s outfit.  “I see things went worse than hoped.”

Gabby’s face fell.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, but it is nonetheless disappointing.  Are you done with this place?”

“Yeah...” Gabby sighed.

“Shall we continue onward, then?  Or have you finally reconsidered this whole endeavor?”

“No, let’s keep going,” she replied with a determination she wasn’t quite sure she still felt.

*     *     *

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chitra whispered as they huddled behind a rock out of view of Hankala.

“Yes, Chitra, enough,” Gabby testily answered.  “I cannot just give up because the first time went poorly.  It should go better now that I’m leaving the sword with you, anyway.”

Chitra let out a noncommittal hum and said nothing more.

Still, despite what she’d claimed, Gabby’s worry, reinforced by the events in Krinallen, bore down on her as she approached the broken-down hamlet.  She’d been told that Haleakala had lost even more from the war than Krinallen, and from what she could see so far, this seemed depressingly true.  Would the people here be even more desperate and ready to lash out?

Lit well by the rays of the morning sun, Hankala looked to be a tiny village ringed by a wooden wall.  She spotted maybe thirty small houses within the walls, all of them beaten down and dilapidated.  The wall looked even worse for wear.  In fact, on second thought, the term “ringed” didn’t really apply here; at least half of the wall was effectively missing, having fallen or broken for reasons unknown.  Much of it appeared fairly recent, including what she believed had in the not-so-distant past been the hamlet’s gate.

Slowly, cautiously, she stepped into the village proper.  She looked around for anybody still alive.  At first, she found nobody, until a small hint of motion caught the corner of her eye.  Sitting on a simple stool outside a nearby house was an old man, one so still that she hadn’t even noticed him at first.  He turned to her, as if just noticing her as well, and smiled wearily but warmly.

“Well, stars above, a new face!” the elder chuckled.  “I apologize for the lack of welcome, but we weren’t expecting anybody.  Nary a person comes to our little home, save a couple of merchants twice a year and, of course, the tax collector.  Even the merchants have stopped now, it seems.  Not that I blame them, with what happened with the war and all...”

“That’s why I’m here actually,” Gabby told him, glad for a way to tell him that wasn’t too direct.  “I heard that this place suffered from the war worse than most.”

“Aye, that we did,” the man confirmed, his voice filling with sorrow.  “Twenty-four of us left to defend our homeland, nearly one person for each family.  Only one returned, if you can even call it that.”

Gabby let out an involuntary hiss of pain and dismay.

“Aye, you understand.  This place, our home... it doesn’t have long left.  Any village would suffer losing so many able-bodied adults, and life was hard here even before.  Now, we don’t even have enough people to maintain the wall, and without the wall, there is no Hankala.”

“Really?  That bad?” Gabby asked, puzzled by such a dire statement.

“The winds here can be wild and strong—far too strong for us to survive unprotected.  The storms, they come through from the Deadlands filled with a powerful rage.  The wall protects us, keeps our homes from being blown down.  But, it takes a lot of work to keep up.  We could never afford a stone Observer, so we’ve had to make do with wood, but even that isn’t easy to get.  We have to travel north to Kutrad each year to harvest what we can afford and hope it will be enough to fix the damage built up since the last trip.  It always is, barely.  Or, always was, for generations.

“Without our people, we couldn’t afford enough wood to fix the wall this year—and we didn’t have enough people to carry it all back, even if we had the money.  Hankala’s death was written at that moment.  The storm that blew through two nights ago sealed the fate of this place.  After a year of punishment, our protector finally fell.  There’re a few foolish holdouts, but most of the people here are preparing to leave in search of a new home.  Where, I cannot say.”

Gabby swallowed, a bottomless pit of guilt forming within her stomach.  She hated hearing these words, but she knew that she could not run from them.  This was what she had left Otharia to find.

“But where are my manners?” the elderly man scoffed.  “You can call me Osaba.  I’m the head of the village these days, or of what’s left of it.  Too old to do anything actually useful, so they stuck me with this.”

“I’m Gabriela.”

“Now, if you came because of the war, then that means you must be here to see Aurken, yes?”

“Is that the man who returned?”

“Aye, though... well, you’ll see soon enough.”

The man pulled out a walking stick from behind the stool and stood up.  Together, they walked to the other end of the cluster of houses and stopped at one.  The home looked no different than the others.  They were all equally ramshackle to her eyes, little more than some wooden boards sloppily formed into four walls and a roof to form a single room.  The only difference between them was their relative locations.

Osaba rapped on the door of this particular home with his stick.  “Oi, Aurken!  Come out!  You have a visitor!”

Gabby heard the sounds of shuffling from within and stepped to the side, out of the way of the door.  Slowly, the door opened and a man soon replaced it.  Gabby understood with a single look what Osaba had been alluding to.  The man looked like he’d just woken from a terrible nightmare.  Thin and disheveled, he looked at the elder with a gaze haunted by the ghosts of events past.

“Aurken, lad!  How fare you today?”

“I’m alright,” Aurken replied, though he sounded less than convincing.  He looked like he hadn’t slept and Gabby could hear his breath shudder when he inhaled.  Her understanding of Scyrian hardiness told her that he should have healed from any war injuries he might have suffered long ago.  So, why the hitches in his breath? 

“Well, look lively, now.  This lass came all the way here to see you.”

For the first time, the man seemed to notice Gabby’s presence off to the side.  The moment he saw her, Aurken went stiff as a board.  The moment between them went still as he seemed to stare both at her and past her, some phantom unknown filling his vision.  Then, he shrieked, shattering the moment like a brick through a glass window.

“No!  Stay back!” the man cried, darting back inside.  Cacophonous sounds of objects crashing to the floor could be heard from within.

Gabby and Osaba rushed inside to find the inside of the home a mess—though how much was new, she couldn’t say.  Broken pottery littered the ground beside upturned furniture.  The main piece in the home, a rough and crude but solid-looking table, lay on its side like a barricade.  Aurken himself cowered in the far corner, a small knife clutched desperately in his hands.

“Stars above, where did he get that?” the old man muttered to himself.

Gabby stepped forward, her heart aching for the man before her.  “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said as calmly and reassuringly as she could manage.  Her words seemed to have no effect.  She wasn’t even sure that he was able to hear them.

“No, no, no!  Stay back!” he repeated, the terror in his voice and on his face growing with every step she took.  He shrank back, seemingly oppressed by her mere presence, until he slipped on a piece of a broken pot.  Landing with a wicked thud, something inside him seem to break and he curled up into a ball, his arms protecting his head.  “No!  I can’t- I can’t breathe!  The mist, it burns!  I can’t breathe!    Stop!  Please, stop!  I can’t-”

Aurken’s desperate pleading fell away, replaced instead by piteous sobbing as he trembled on the dirt floor.  The knife fell from his hands as all resistance within him evaporated.

Gabby stood over him, unsure what to do.  Did he actually recognize her?  Had she done something to him and his brethren?  Or was he just mixing some memory he had of her during the siege with other trauma he’d received during those terrible days?  He’d mentioned mist that burned, but that hadn’t been her.  Several of the more powerful Ubran Observers fought using a poisonous mist, but she’d never worked with them, nor had she wanted to.  But still, he and the rest of this village had only come to harm because of her.  If not for her selfishness...

“I’m sorry,” she finally said.  It wasn’t much—not nearly enough, in truth—but it was all she could find within her to say.  Just her proximity to him was making things worse.  Maybe the people in Krinallen were right.  Maybe this whole trip was worse than just a fool’s errand.  Maybe it was actually harmful to those whom she’d already hurt.  Maybe she was just making things worse.

Turning back, Gabriela strode from the shack, tears in her eyes and a storm in her heart.  In her selfishness, she’d played a part in the mental destruction of that poor man, and she bore some responsibility—if not all of it—for the death of this community.  Back during the war, she’d been able to distance herself from the horrible consequences of war.  But now, with what she knew today, every bit of suffering she saw that was even remotely connected to the invasion felt like rubbing sandpaper on an open wound in her spirit.  But what could she do?  All she was good for was slicing things up.

She felt so powerless.

“I apologize for that sad display,” Osaba said, coming up behind her.  “We thought we took all his blades away after the last time, but he must have hidden one somewhere.  He always liked his knives.”

“It’s alright.  I’m not the one hurt here,” she sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve.

“You act like you are the one that did this to him.”

“I played a part in it, and maybe more than a part.  I hurt a lot of people; too many to ever remember,” she admitted.  “The uncertainty just makes it worse.  I can never be sure I’m not responsible for somebody’s suffering.”

The old man didn’t respond.

Gabriela looked around again at the run-down shacks and the broken wall that made up the small village of Hankala.  By all rights, the place shouldn’t have existed in the first place.  The soil was rocky and bad.  There weren’t many large animals to hunt.  Nature itself seemed to despise the village’s existence, as demonstrated by the need for the wall in the first place.  Hankala was, if anything, a testament to the human spirit.  These people had lived here, eking out a paltry existence, for generations, refusing to give up—until she’d set into action a course of events that had managed to do what wind, rain, poor harvests, and any other number of hardships had been unable to achieve.  The end of a community—all because of her and a wall.

Unless...

She turned back to the old man, who looked at her with a wariness that hadn’t been there before, though that was all.  She didn’t see much else in his eyes but the burdens of sadness.

“Osaba, tell me truthfully: if the wall was intact, would Hankala survive?”

“I would say so, aye,” he replied after a moment.  “A few would probably still leave, but most would stay.  We’re an ornery lot.  A village like this doesn’t survive so long otherwise.  But, what does it matter?  The wall is broken beyond repair.”

A lightness filled her soul as she finally saw a path forward.  She could not save the villagers who had died in the war, but she could still save their legacy.  “Then I’ll make you a new wall.  One bigger and stronger so you won’t need to keep fixing it every year.”

“Madam Gabriela, you would do that for us humble folk?” he asked with surprise.

“I will.  Just give me...” she looked at the sun’s position.  I was still early, perhaps eight in the morning.  “...I should have it done by nightfall if all goes well.”

“You mean to say you will do it all by yourself?  Surely you jest!”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Mister Osaba.”

“Either way, we cannot pay you what you would need—not even if we were still whole.”

“I don’t need payment.  I only need two things from you.”

“Yes?”

“First, I need people to keep my companion entertained while I’m gone.  Second, I’m going to need all the rope you have.”

*     *     *

Wind whipped through Gabriela’s hair as she blurred through the steppe-like terrain north of Hankala, moving at a velocity that would have terrified her not too long ago.  The land was mostly vacant—little more than empty plains with only the occasional road running through it—but had anybody been around to see her, they would have witnessed quite a strange sight.  It wasn’t often that somebody could watch a woman carrying a giant ball of rope over her head zip past at well over a hundred kilometers per hour.  If said watcher was observant enough, they might even notice an impossible sight.  Gabriela had something almost resembling a smile on her face.

For perhaps the first time since arriving here, she was using her power entirely in service of a constructive goal.  Even when she’d done good other times, she’d done so by killing.  This time, however, there would be no death—except the death of trees, of course.  The feeling filled her with a thrumming excitement and pushed her faster.  The power beating inside her wasn’t as strong as it had been back during the invasion, but there was a vigor within it that had been missing since her battle with Blake, the day when she’d learned the terrible truth.

Entering the southern forests of Kutrad, Gabby zipped about until she found what she was looking for: a section of large, strong trees, wide enough and tall enough to work for what she had in mind.  The Sword of Eternity made the greatest woodcutter’s axe imaginable.  Every swing felled a tree, and within moments she had felled dozens.  She moved on to the next step, slicing each one into huge, rectangular columns over ten meters long and more than a meter wide.  Lastly, she stacked them on top of each other, using the rope she’d brought with her to keep them together as she lifted them over her head, and began the task of carting them back south.

Once Gabby returned to Hankala, the last process was simple: first, dig hole—once again made easy by her strength and her tool; being seemingly indestructible, the Sword of Eternity made quick work of the earth.  Second, embed giant wooden plank into hole so that plank is over three meters into the ground and secure against winds.  Dig second hole next to the first hole and repeat process until out of wood or town fully encircled.

Gabby spent her day rebuilding the wall, running back and forth between the village and the Kutrad forest to the north.  As she had predicted that morning, the task took but a day.  Just before sundown, she placed the final post and stepped back to admire her handiwork to the cheers of the locals.

The entire village of Hankala was encompassed by an array of massive carved tree trunks placed in a mostly circular fashion with just millimeters of space between them.  Well over ten times thicker than the previous wooden boards—and much taller as well for better wind blockage—they would stand against the storm far better than what they had before.

To make it even better, while she’d been busy running around, Chitra had shown some villagers how to make a sort of resin out of some of the local grasses, which they had used to fill the gaps between the wood.  Other villagers had spent their day constructing a thick, sturdy gate out of the remnants of the original wall.  Once she had cut them a hole, they could put it in.

All in all, the wall was not a master class in carpentry or civil engineering, but it would do the job.  Looking at it, she even felt a little pride.  The village, or at least what was left of it, could be saved.

That last thought soured Gabriela’s mood, bringing her back down to reality again.  Yes, she was saving the village, but she was saving it from a fate she had thrust upon it, and the place would still be crippled.  The joyous looks on the villagers’ faces no longer gave her the high they had earlier that day.  No amount of Osaba’s frequent thanks made her feel much better.  She’d done good this day, but it was but a single mark on the proper side of a very unbalanced ledger.

As night fell, Gabriela found herself on a straw mattress on the floor of an empty house that the villagers had let her and Chitra use for the night.  Sleeping in a home that was likely vacant due in some part to her deeds only served to drag her mood lower.  Chitra had left several hours ago, saying she wanted to go for a walk under the moonslight, but Gabby had felt too drained—emotionally, if not physically—to accept the invitation to join her.  So, instead, she lay there on the mattress, eyes closed as she tried to fall asleep, much as she had for the last hour or more.

A quiet footstep outside the shack’s door graced her ears.  Chitra had returned.  Ever so slowly, the door opened, the wooden hinges creaking softly.  She heard a shuddering breath.

Gabby involuntarily tensed as she realized that it was not Chitra at all; it was Aurken, and she had a strong feeling that he would not be sneaking into the home where she slept with anything but bad intentions.  But, what to do?

Gabby decided to do nothing for the moment.  She knew that Aurken presented no threat to her.  She figured that she would just pretend to sleep for now and hope he left, as interacting with him was far more likely to go bad.  She could always change her mind and engage at any time.

The steps grew closer until they stopped right by her side.  Gabby listened to the shuddering breaths, each ragged inhalation bringing to mind the agony Aurken had suffered during the war.

She heard the man lower himself down to his knees, his hitched breathing even closer to her now.  Still, she continued to pretend to sleep.

The breathing picked up, becoming more forceful and rapid until it bordered on hyperventilation.  Gabby finally found herself too overcome by morbid curiosity to keep her eyes closed any longer.  She opened them just a sliver, enough to make out the man kneeling beside her.

Aurken stared down at her with manic despair, a toothy grimace shining in the dimness beneath frantic, bloodshot eyes.  A glint of metal flickered above his head as he brought his arms down with everything he had.

Gabriela made no effort to stop the blade from plunging towards her heart.  With a wet thump, Aurken buried it to the hilt into her heart.  She accepted the pain without even a twitch, welcoming it as she had all the agony she’d suffered these last months.  It was just one more deserved punishment.

Aurken let out the air he’d been holding with a loud, heavy exhalation.  He took another breath, drawing it in smoothly for the first time that Gabby had heard since they’d met, as if by slaying her, he had slain the demons plaguing him.  He exhaled without a shudder again, and Gabby could practically hear the relief and joy in every breath.

But then, on the fifth breath, the ragged shudder returned—first just a hint of it, but growing with each successive breath.

“N-no...” Aurken gasped.  “No!”

Gabby opened her eyes fully as she felt him rip the blade from her chest.  With frenzied strength, he plunged it back in.

“Make it stop!” he cried, his arms working like a piston as he struck her over and over and over.  “Make it stop!  Make it stop make it stop makeitstop makeitstop makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop!  MAKE IT-!”

The hand of a shadowy figure grabbed the mad villager by the neck from behind.  With a simple but powerful motion, the figure launched Aurken through the air and against the opposite wall with such force that he crashed through the flimsy wood and fell still on the ground outside.

“Chitra!” Gabby hissed, her wounds healing in an instant as she stood up to confront the shadowy figure.  “What was that for?”

“What do you mean, ‘what was that for’?!” her friend shot back.  “He was stabbing you!”

“So?  It’s not like he was actually doing any real damage.”

“So, what, you were going to just let him keep doing it until he got bored?!”

“Why not?  After what I did to him-”

“For the love of Nartrill, you didn’t do anything to him!” Chitra hollered.  “Almost all the gas Observers were on the eastern side!  I doubt he ever got within a thousand paces of you!  Face it, Gabby, there are probably thousands of people who came back from the war not entirely right!  What are you going to do, find them all and let them massacre you until they all feel better?!”

“Well, I mean-”

“Stars above, Gabby!  It was hard enough back then seeing them carry you into our tent every day, your body bloody, headless, and full of holes!  Now, you want me to watch as you wander around the continent, letting every single veteran in Eterium with a twitch or a bad cough turn you into mincemeat?!  No!  I won’t stand for it!”

“Oh, now you’re having second thoughts?  You knew what this was from the beginning!  If you had such a problem with it, why did you even demand to come along, then?!”

“Fine, fuck it.  Why don’t you figure that out?”

“Huh?”

“Tell me, Gabby, why would I decide to throw away perfectly good opportunities to live a wonderful, comfortable life in a proper country like Kutrad or Eterium and instead move to a shithole like Otharia?  Why would I go through all the effort of finding a way past an army of murderous machines, just to get into a country most famous for hating anybody who isn’t a native?  Well?”

“Wait, I thought you said that you wouldn’t be welcome anywhere but Otharia.”

“That was a lie to make you feel better, and you should have known it the moment I said it.  Somebody with my looks, knowledge, and skills?  If I left for Kutrad tonight, their King would welcome me with open arms tomorrow!  But that’s beside the point right now!  Think it through, Miss Can’t Take A Fucking Hint!  Why did I do that?”

The answer was obvious, of course.  What else could it be?  “Because you’re my friend, right?”

“Yeah?  Is everything I said before the sort of thing that friends do?  Do friends drop everything in their lives to walk around the middle of nowhere and sleep in shacks?  How much more obvious do I have to make it?!”

Gabby went quiet as she pondered Chitra’s anger.  All this time, Gabby had thought that Chitra was acting this way out of her friendship with Gabby.  If that wasn’t the case, then what other reasons could there be?

Immediately, her mind went to manipulation, which was no surprise, given recent history.  Chitra was, she knew, a master manipulator.  She’d seen it in action dozens of times, just on this one journey!  Yet, that didn’t seem to mesh with what was happening right now.  If you wanted to use somebody, you wouldn’t want them thinking about the reasons for your actions, right?

But then, what else could it be?  Was somebody paying her to be by Gabby’s side?  Technically, it was possible.  In a way, that was what had happened in the beginning, right?  But, it didn’t feel right.  Gabby couldn’t help but feel that the Chitra she knew now wouldn’t do that—and, as before, alerting Gabby to all of this would just defeat the purpose.

Gabriela considered several other possibilities and discarded them all as well.  Nothing seemed to make sense in this context.  Not a single thing.

Well... except for one thing, that is—something she’d shoved away and out of sight long ago because it was both impossible and because it was...  The more she thought about it, the more fearful Gabriela became.  Within a moment, distress threatened to overwhelm her.

“N-no, Chitra, you can’t be serious!”

“Why not?!  Everybody always desires me, but it’s always about them!  Why can’t I have my own desires?!  My own wants and needs?!  Don’t I get to have a say in my life?!”

“But I’m not-” Gabby tried to interject, but Chitra had already built up a head of steam and would not be denied.

With a graceful but quick and fluid motion, she reached up and delicately cradled the sides of Gabby’s head with her dainty hands, her slim, smooth fingers running gently through Gabby’s hair.  The caress felt like caustic sandpaper against her skin.

“Do you have any idea how appealing I find you, Gabby?  You decided that you needed something, and then you fought like a martok to get it, and woe to anybody foolish enough to get in your way.  You stomped an entire nation under your heel to get what you desired!  It was the most attractive thing I have ever seen!

“You spend all this time bemoaning your choices, but all I see is somebody who had a goal and let nothing stop her from working towards it.  That’s not something to be ashamed of, that’s what you should do!  That’s how you have to live in this world!  You should be holding your head high!

“Nobody understands you like I do, Gabby.  We were meant for each other.  I know you think I’m beautiful.  I’ve seen the way you look at me when you don’t think I’m paying attention, and I like it, even!  Don’t you see?  We could just leave and-”

“No!” Gabriela snapped, her disgust reaching a breaking point.  She shoved Chitra away.  “No no no NO!”

Chitra seemed stunned at the rejection.  “If this is about your dead husband, I’m female, so it’s not like you are dishonoring him or-”

“It’s not about that!  Homosexuality is a great sin, Chitra!  It’s sinful and wrong and gross and I want nothing to do with it!”

Chitra rolled her eyes.  “Nobody bats an eye at same-gender romance here, Gabby.  Besides, murder being a sin sure didn’t stop you, did it?!  Suddenly you care again about those silly superstitions of yours?!”

The words came like a slap across the face.  Gabby felt her anger rise towards another for the first time in a while.  “After everything you did to help steer me down that path, you have the nerve to say that to me?”

“Oh, now you suddenly don’t want to take all the blame for yourself?

“I think it would be best if you went back to Otharia now,” she growled.

“I’m not leaving here until you see reason!”

“Fine, if you won’t leave, then I will.”  Using her unparalleled strength, she pushed through Chitra’s feeble attempts to hold her back and marched out the door, ignoring the stares of several nearby villagers who’d come out to see what all the ruckus was about.

“Gabby, wait!  Where are you going?!” Chitra pleaded, chasing after her.

“Away,” Gabby snarled.  “Go back to Otharia—or any of those other places that you’re so sure would welcome you with open arms.  Go anywhere you want, just as long as it’s not near me.”

With that said, she took off, leaping easily over the tall new wooden wall and heading west towards the Deadlands at speeds nobody could hope to follow.  However, no matter how fast she ran, she could never outrun the conflicted fury in her heart.