I opened my eyes. Barely. The world was a blur of white and red and voices shouting over each other. Healers in white and red robes rushed around me, their hands glowing green, their faces tight with panic. Someone was screaming about bandages. Someone else was yelling about my Lumin levels. The old man—the head healer—was right above me, his mouth moving, but I couldn't hear the words. His eyes were wide. Worried. I'd never seen him worried before. That's not good.
Then everything went black.
---
I woke on my back. The black water was beneath me, cold and still, reflecting nothing. The black sky was above me, empty and endless. No stars. No moon. No end. I didn't move. I couldn't. My hands weren't melted here. My arms weren't destroyed. My body wasn't broken. But I felt it anyway. The weight of what I'd done. The priest's face. His blood. The sound of his head hitting the floor.
"You're awake." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Familiar and foreign at the same time. I didn't answer. I just stared at the nothing-sky.
"You're wondering if you're dead."
"Am I?" My voice was quiet. Tired. Broken.
"No."
"Then why does it feel like I am?"
Silence. Then footsteps on water. Ripples spread from somewhere to my left. Five figures stood around me. Tall. Shadowed. Faces hidden behind silver masks. The same ones from the ship. The same ones who took my claymore. The same ones who watched me kill the priest.
"You took a life," one said. Male. Cold. "A non-combatant. A man of faith."
"You cut off his head," another said. Also male. Also cold. "In front of witnesses."
"You showed no mercy," a third. "No hesitation. No regret."
I closed my eyes. "I had regret."
"Then why did you do it?"
I thought about it. Really thought about it. The rage. The heat. The way my vision tunneled until all I could see was his golden robes and that stupid stone around his neck. "I was angry."
"Anger is not an excuse."
"I know." I didn't argue. I didn't justify. I just... accepted it.
"Then why are you here? Why are you speaking to us? Why should we spare you?"
I pushed myself up. My arms shook. My body screamed. But I sat. I looked at them—five figures, five masks, five sets of eyes I couldn't see. "I'm not asking you to spare me."
"Then what are you asking for?"
"Nothing." I looked down at my hands. Whole here. But I remembered them melting. Remembered the bone. Remembered the blood. Remembered his face. "I just need to say something."
Silence.
---
"I'm sorry."
The words came out quiet. Rough. Tired. Not performative. Not pleading. Just... honest.
"I'm sorry I killed him. Not because I was wrong. Not because he didn't deserve it. He was part of a faith that turns people to gold. That murdered Kora's brother. That sacrifices innocents. I don't regret that he's dead."
I looked up at the figures.
"But I didn't kill him for any of that. I killed him because I was angry. Because I lost control. Because I didn't think. I just acted. And then I stood there, covered in his blood, and I didn't feel anything. That's not justice. That's not protection. That's just rage."
I took a breath.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm not asking for my weapons back. I'm just... sorry. For how I did it. For becoming the thing I hate."
---
The figures didn't move. Didn't speak. The silence stretched.
Then one stepped forward. The smallest. The one in the center. A woman's voice. Softer than the others. Older, maybe. Wiser.
"You are an anomaly, Zain."
I looked at her.
"Most who come before us make excuses. They justify. They deflect. They blame us, the exam, the world—anyone but themselves." She tilted her head. "You did none of that. You apologized. You meant it. And you promised to be better."
She raised her hand. Black flames flickered at her fingertips.
"That is rare. That is valuable."
The flames spread. Not hot. Not cold. Just... there. Black and silent, crawling across the water, across the sky, across my vision.
"Let that sorry be the engine of your value."
She lowered her hand.
"Do not waste it."
The flames consumed everything. The figures faded. The black realm dissolved. And I was alone again.
---
I opened my eyes. White ceiling. White sheets. The smell of herbs and blood. My body was heavy. My hands were wrapped in bandages. My arms were wrapped. My chest was wrapped. Everything hurt. But I was alive.
I stared at the ceiling.
Let that sorry be the engine of your value.
I closed my eyes.
I'll try.