Yandaro's hand remained against the unfinished hull.
For several seconds—
nobody moved.
Then one of the engineers cleared their throat.
"So."
Yandaro looked at them.
The engineer gestured toward the propulsion assembly.
"You were saying our fuel system is terrible."
Yandaro blinked.
"I didn't say terrible."
"You looked at it like it offended you."
"It did."
Qaritas nodded.
"He's adapting quickly."
That—
almost—
earned something from Yandaro.
Not a smile.
But close.
The engineers surrounded him again.
Questions followed.
Yandaro answered what he could.
Admitted what he couldn't.
Asked twice as many questions in return.
Gawi remained nearby.
Watching.
Not directing.
Not interrupting.
Simply allowing the boy to find something he could hold onto.
Qaritas watched too.
For a while.
Then—
something bothered him.
He looked around.
Gawi.
Yandaro.
Engineers.
Kysena.
Ylaris.
Then—
Xheavend.
She stood exactly where she'd been several minutes earlier.
Too still.
Qaritas frowned.
That was wrong.
Xheavend possessed many varieties of silence.
Angry silence.
Suspicious silence.
I'm-considering-whether-biting-you-is-socially-acceptable silence.
This wasn't any of them.
She wasn't looking at the ship.
Wasn't listening to Yandaro.
Wasn't watching Gawi.
She was staring—
at him.
Qaritas glanced down at himself.
"Do I have something on my face?"
Nothing.
He frowned.
"Xheavend?"
No response.
"You usually insult me by now."
Nothing.
That was considerably worse.
Look at him.
Xheavend didn't.
She looked at the ship.
At Yandaro.
At the engine.
Anywhere else.
Look.
No.
Yzer hadn't appeared.
Not properly.
There was no lavender figure standing beside her.
No immaculate clothing.
No calm smile.
No projection only she could see.
He didn't need one anymore.
Sometimes—
he was simply there.
A voice threaded through blood.
A thought that wasn't hers arriving already sharpened.
You already were.
Her eyes moved.
She hated that they did.
Qaritas stood several metres away.
Kysena had returned to him while Yandaro spoke with the engineers.
Apparently the Void had decided that having half his clothing torn apart counted as adequate medical treatment.
Kysena disagreed.
She had ordered him to remove what remained of the damaged outer layer around his shoulder and ribs.
Qaritas had complained.
Kysena had ignored him.
Now pale lunar light moved across his side.
Across—
scars.
Xheavend stopped breathing.
His palm.
A pale line cut across it.
And—
Bone splitting flesh.
Her hand around his.
Pressure.
A sound.
His sound.
She looked away.
Shoulder.
Another scar.
Longer.
Deeper.
And—
Her weapon buried almost to the joint.
Resistance.
Then none.
Blood running down her wrist.
No.
Ribs.
White beneath red.
His body hitting the ground.
No.
Back.
The Books opening.
Pages screaming.
Reality folding.
Q falling.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up.
Hand.
Two fingers hitting the ground.
Those were useful.
Her stomach turned.
Face.
Blood coating his teeth.
His mouth moving.
She cheats.
She remembered laughing.
She remembered—
No.
Xheavend dug her nails into her palms.
Qaritas had scars before her.
She knew that.
She hadn't created all of them.
But she had created enough.
Look what you did to someone who came home.
Her throat closed.
No.
He came home.
That mattered.
It had mattered.
He'd—
He'd come home.
And she—
Nearly killed him.
"Stop."
Nobody heard.
Or perhaps she hadn't spoken aloud.
Yzer's voice remained gentle.
That made it worse.
He came home.
Xheavend stared at Qaritas's hand.
And you taught him what home costs.
Her chest hurt.
How many people have you hurt now?
No.
Six hundred.
Her fingers trembled.
Qaritas.
Stop.
Goro.
Stop.
Hstrarkit.
"I didn't—"
Yandaro's father.
Her head snapped toward the boy.
Yandaro was standing beneath the unfinished ship.
Listening to an engineer.
His father's blood was still on him.
You were there.
Her stomach dropped.
All that power.
No.
Four Horsemen.
No.
Genesis.
Stop.
The End itself living beneath your skin.
"Stop."
And his father still died.
"Stop."
What exactly are you for, little ward?
Her breathing changed.
Shallow.
Too fast.
She knew this.
Four.
Find four things.
Ship.
Floor.
Gawi.
Qaritas.
Three things—
"Xheavend?"
Her eyes snapped up.
Qaritas stood in front of her.
She hadn't seen him approach.
He'd pulled part of his clothing back into place.
Not enough.
His hand remained exposed.
Scar visible.
Her eyes dropped to it.
Qaritas followed her gaze.
Then—
understood.
"Oh."
Xheavend swallowed.
"Do they hurt?"
No joke came immediately.
That frightened her more.
Qaritas looked at his hand.
Flexed it once.
"Sometimes."
Her stomach twisted.
"All of them?"
"Some."
"Which ones?"
"Xheavend—"
"Which ones?"
Qaritas studied her.
She pointed at his palm.
"That one?"
"Occasionally."
Her eyes moved to his shoulder.
"That?"
"When I move it badly."
Ribs.
"And—"
"Stop."
She froze.
Qaritas didn't sound angry.
That almost made it worse.
Her eyes filled.
"I did that."
"Some of it."
"Most of it."
Qaritas considered.
"A distressingly competitive amount."
Silence.
His expression changed.
The humor disappeared.
"You hurt me."
She flinched.
"Badly."
Her eyes dropped.
"I know."
"But that isn't the entire story."
"It is."
"No."
"I remember it."
"So do I."
"I remember your hand."
"Xheavend."
"I broke it."
"Yes."
"I cut off your fingers."
"They grew back."
"That doesn't make it better."
"No."
Her eyes snapped toward him.
Qaritas didn't retreat from that answer.
He didn't soften it.
Didn't erase it.
Didn't tell her it hadn't mattered.
"It hurt," he said.
Her breath caught.
"A great deal, actually."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"No."
Her voice broke.
"You don't."
Qaritas went still.
Xheavend pressed both hands against her head.
"I remember everything."
Her voice lowered.
"Everything."
Qaritas said nothing.
"The soldiers."
A breath.
"You."
Another.
"Goro."
Her fingers tangled in her hair.
"Everyone."
Her voice became smaller.
"I can remember what it felt like when bones broke."
Qaritas's jaw tightened.
"I remember your face."
She looked at him.
"You kept getting up."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Qaritas answered immediately.
"Because you needed me to."
Xheavend stared at him.
"No."
"Yes."
"You should've fought me."
"I did."
"Properly."
Qaritas's expression shifted.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I knew what I was looking at."
Her face hardened.
"A monster?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly for Yzer to get between them.
Xheavend stopped.
Qaritas stepped closer.
Not touching.
Never without warning.
"A twelve-year-old girl."
Her jaw tightened.
"Who had just survived six hundred people trying to drag her back to the person who tortured her."
Silence.
"Whose body was already falling apart."
Her eyes dropped.
"Whose power had awakened violently."
Qaritas continued.
"Who suddenly had thousands of lives screaming inside her head."
The ghost archive.
Names.
Deaths.
Fear.
Memories.
Too many.
"And," Qaritas added, "who had a Warden living inside her blood making absolutely certain she couldn't tell which thoughts belonged to her."
Xheavend's breathing stopped.
Convenient.
Qaritas's eyes narrowed.
Not at her.
At something he couldn't see.
Something he knew was there anyway.
"He's talking now, isn't he?"
Xheavend didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Qaritas looked irritated.
"Of course he is."
He always needs excuses for you.
Xheavend squeezed her eyes shut.
Qaritas continued.
"The scars are real."
Her eyes opened.
"So is everything around them."
She looked down.
"You don't get to pretend I didn't hurt you."
"I haven't."
"You just—"
"I said you hurt me."
Her mouth closed.
Qaritas lifted his scarred hand.
"I am not denying this."
Then his voice softened.
"I'm refusing to let Yzer remove everything that happened before and after it."
Xheavend stared.
Qaritas looked at his palm.
Then at her.
"I don't look at these and think monster."
Her breath caught.
"What do you think?"
Qaritas considered.
"Mostly?"
A pause.
"That I should've ducked."
Xheavend stared at him.
Nothing.
Qaritas sighed.
"That normally works better."
Her mouth twitched.
Barely.
Then disappeared.
Qaritas's expression softened.
"And I think you survived something no twelve-year-old should've needed to survive."
Xheavend looked away.
"I killed them."
"Yes."
"All six hundred."
"Yes."
"I ate some of them."
Qaritas paused.
"Yes."
Her eyes flicked toward him.
"You don't have to say yes to everything."
"I am attempting not to lie to you."
That silenced her.
Qaritas lowered his hand.
"What happened was horrible."
Xheavend's jaw trembled.
"What they did to you was horrible."
A tear escaped.
She wiped it away angrily.
"What you did afterward was horrible."
Another tear.
"And none of those statements erase the others."
Xheavend looked at him.
That—
Yzer didn't answer immediately.
Because there was nothing simple to twist.
No—
You did nothing wrong.
No—
They deserved it.
No—
It wasn't you.
Qaritas gave her none of those.
He gave her the whole thing.
Ugly.
Contradictory.
True.
She had been hurt.
She had hurt people.
She had survived.
People had died.
She was still here.
So was he.
Qaritas glanced toward Yandaro.
The boy was speaking with two engineers again.
Then back at Xheavend.
"Actually."
She immediately looked suspicious.
"What?"
"Explain something."
"No."
"You don't know the question."
"I know you."
"Fair."
He folded his arms.
"Why didn't you fight the Eyes?"
Everything inside her stopped.
Qaritas saw it.
His arms slowly unfolded.
"You fought six hundred soldiers."
Silence.
"You fought me."
Her gaze dropped.
"You fought Goro."
Nothing.
Qaritas gestured vaguely at her.
"You have demonstrated an almost offensive willingness to fight things significantly larger than you."
A pause.
"Frequently while missing body parts."
Still nothing.
"So why not them?"
Xheavend's face emptied.
Qaritas waited.
Her eyes moved toward Yandaro.
Then the camp.
The ships.
The soldiers.
The wounded.
The people Gawi had pulled from Yzer's prisons.
Finally—
"Because Yzer would've killed Hstrarkit."
Qaritas frowned.
"What?"
Xheavend looked at him.
"He would've killed the world."
The words were flat.
Too practiced.
Qaritas felt something cold settle beneath his ribs.
"How?"
"He told me."
"Yzer tells you many things."
"He showed me."
That changed the question.
Qaritas went still.
Xheavend looked toward the horizon.
Toward the distant teeth.
But Qaritas knew she wasn't seeing Galathan anymore.
"Hstrarkit has Eyes everywhere."
Her voice was quiet.
"In animals."
"Buildings."
"Relics."
"Places."
"Things people don't even know belong to him."
Qaritas remembered.
Yzer's Eyes.
Anything closely enough bound to him could become one.
A window.
A mouth.
A road.
A weapon.
A way in.
Xheavend rubbed one arm.
"He showed me what would happen if I started destroying too many."
"What?"
"All of them opening."
Qaritas said nothing.
"At once."
Her fingers tightened.
"He said if I turned Hstrarkit into a battlefield he couldn't control..."
She swallowed.
"...he'd stop trying to control it."
Qaritas understood before she finished.
"He'd destroy it."
Xheavend nodded.
"Not conquer."
Her mismatched eyes met his.
"Destroy."
Qaritas looked across Gawi's camp.
Thousands of people.
Ships.
Refugees.
Soldiers.
Children.
Then imagined an entire world gone.
"He could do that?"
"I don't know."
The answer surprised him.
Xheavend's voice sharpened.
"I don't know."
She struck her chest once.
"That's the problem."
Her eyes filled again.
"I don't know what he can do."
Another breath.
"I don't know when he's lying."
Another.
"I don't know when he's telling the truth."
Her voice cracked.
"And when you're gambling with an entire world—"
She stopped.
Qaritas finished quietly.
"You can't afford to guess."
Xheavend looked at him.
"Exactly."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Qaritas understood Hstrarkit differently.
He'd thought she'd frozen.
Thought perhaps the Eyes had frightened her.
Thought her history with Yzer had made fighting impossible.
Part of that might even have been true.
But underneath it—
she'd been calculating.
Six hundred soldiers had been six hundred enemies.
Goro had been one opponent.
Qaritas had been one opponent.
Hstrarkit had been—
millions.
Maybe billions.
People who would never know their lives had entered a calculation inside the head of a girl standing beneath Yzer's shadow.
Qaritas looked at her.
"You thought not fighting him would save them."
"I thought obeying would keep him from escalating."
"And did it?"
Xheavend didn't answer.
She looked toward Yandaro.
That was answer enough.
His father was dead.
People were dead.
Hstrarkit had survived.
But survival—
Qaritas remembered Gawi's words.
Was not fairness.
Xheavend whispered,
"I chose wrong."
"No."
Her eyes snapped toward him.
"No?"
"You chose without enough information."
"People died."
"Yes."
"I could've fought."
"And perhaps more would have died."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you."
Her mouth closed.
Qaritas stepped closer.
"That's what he's doing."
She frowned.
"What?"
"He's making you judge yesterday using information you only possess today."
Silence.
He doesn't understand.
Xheavend's eyes hardened.
Qaritas noticed.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
"That was a lie."
"Shut up."
"Better."
She blinked.
Qaritas nodded.
"That sounded like you."
A tiny breath escaped her.
Almost annoyed.
Good.
He preferred annoyed.
Annoyed was here.
"He's telling me you don't understand."
"He's correct."
Xheavend stared at him.
Qaritas shrugged.
"I don't."
That wasn't what she'd expected.
"I wasn't inside your head."
He gestured toward her chest.
"I wasn't inside your blood."
His voice lowered.
"I didn't have to decide whether challenging him was worth gambling an entire civilization."
He looked toward the camp.
"So no."
Back to her.
"I don't understand."
A pause.
"But I can stay while you do."
Xheavend's face changed.
Very slightly.
Qaritas almost missed it.
"What?"
"I can stay."
She stared at him.
He looked around.
"Apparently that is today's theme."
Yandaro stood beneath an unfinished ship.
Gawi stood at the center of armies that did not belong to her.
Kysena sat wherever pain happened to need company.
And Qaritas—
Qaritas wasn't entirely certain what he could build.
He wasn't a healer.
He wasn't an engineer.
He wasn't going to organize dozens of civilizations into a rebellion.
He couldn't remove Yzer from Xheavend's blood.
Couldn't return Yandaro's father.
Couldn't save everyone.
He could do one thing.
Stay.
Xheavend's voice was almost inaudible.
"What if I hurt you again?"
Qaritas looked at the scars across his hand.
Then at her.
"Then we'll deal with what actually happens."
"What if it's worse?"
"Then we'll deal with worse."
"What if I—"
"Xheavend."
She stopped.
"I'm not promising you nothing bad will happen."
Her eyes searched his.
"I'm promising I won't abandon you because something bad might happen."
Yzer went very quiet.
Qaritas noticed that too.
Interesting.
Xheavend noticed.
More than interesting.
For several seconds she simply stood there.
Then—
her hand moved.
Slowly.
Uncertainly.
Toward his.
She stopped before touching him.
Qaritas waited.
Her fingers hovered over the scar crossing his palm.
"Can I?"
"Yes."
She touched it.
Barely.
One fingertip.
The contact was so light he almost couldn't feel it.
Xheavend traced the edge of the scar she'd given him.
Her eyes filled again.
Qaritas didn't move.
Didn't tell her not to cry.
Didn't tell her to forgive herself.
Didn't tell her everything would be all right.
Some things shouldn't be rushed simply because silence made people uncomfortable.
So—
he stayed.
And somewhere behind Xheavend's blood—
Yzer said nothing.