IN THE LAST AUTUMN

In the Last Autumn

Prologue I

The boy ran through the woods, trees standing like skyscrapers, deformed by the wind and snow of the harsh winters creeping over him. His left eye was wounded, and it was unclear how severe the damage was. Blood seeped through several cuts across his face, and a cloud of air formed with each breath he took.

*Huff*

“It needs to be done.”

*Pant*

“It’s my duty.”

*Huff*

“But even so…

*Gasp*

“Why does it feel wro–”

*THUD*

He fell into a soft blanket of snow, slowly turning from white into a crimson red beneath him, uttering nonsensical prayers as he lost consciousness.

Prologue II

“There are traitors within Troop 18,” said the anxious man who had just entered the office of President Claude.

“Is that so…?” he asked, blowing out a string of smoke, holding onto his cigar with his forefinger and thumb.

“Yes sir, we have reports of suspicious behavior among not only some of the soldiers, but the higher ranking personnel as well.”

“Hm,” he sighed, leaning back in the chair as he drew another breath of smoke.

“What should we do, sir?” the man asked, fidgeting with his thumbs behind his back.

“Well, though I must say I do find your loyalty to my word simultaneously fascinating and appealing, I am not in the greatest mood at the moment. Simply deal with them, yes?”

“Of course. My apologies, sir,” the man said as he left the room.

President Claude looked to his right out of the corner of his eye, letting out a puff of smoke as he sighed. “You’ve been quiet.”

“It’s nothing, father,” replied the young man, rather quietly.

President Claude nodded slowly. “I see,” he said, taking in a breath of smoke. “Don’t be angry with me, you know it was necessary.”

The young man’s eyes slowly moved around the room, avoiding direct contact with his father’s eyes. “How could I be angry with the blessed leader, brought to us by God? How could I be angry when it is me who is next in line?”

President Claude smiled. “Your nose is bleeding.”

Prologue III

The sky was completely dark with the plague of the night when Darius woke up from a particularly strange dream. He looked out the small window, covered with thick bars, catching a glimpse of the moon from his bunk. Silently, he crept out of bed and made his way outside. Going outside during the night was strictly prohibited, but it would be okay, just for tonight. It was nearing the end of summer, and Darius fully intended to soak up these nights where crickets sang above the sound of grass whistling in the wind. As he crept around the dorm building, he made his way towards a secluded area and watched as dawn began to break. He looked down as the sky began to shine brighter, seeing a single fallen leaf before him. Yes, surely autumn would soon take over in a boutade of red, orange, and brown. Darius looked up solemnly, holding the stem of the leaf between his forefinger and thumb up to the moonlight before letting the wind take it away, watching it as it danced.

ACT I

Chapter 1: Good Morning, Hero, Do You Like Your New Clock?

Alarms blared.

⬺

Hands flew up to cover ears as everyone rushed into the bunker. The cries of the younger children pierced the air, leaving a heavy feeling setting deep into everyone’s lungs. The larger students pushed down those who were weaker and smaller, leaving them to fall to the ground as they trampled over their fear-riddled bodies. It felt as if seven eternities passed before the large cement door was shut, confirming that what was taking place was no drill or lesson. Worried voices scattered among the dark room, thick cement walls stopping any echoes from reverberating. Darius held his knees to his chest as he sat with his back pressed against the inhospitable and rigid wall. He shivered, miniscule bumps forming upon his tanned skin. He swallowed, seeking relief of his parched throat, but came to the realization that his spit had also already run dry. The only comfort he would find was the panicked breathing of his peers, which only confirmed that they were alive and as a result, did not serve as much comfort, for he was not particularly close to any of them. Nails dug into his arms, drawing up small amounts of blood as he bowed his head. A tall man soon approached him, and sat in the empty space next to Darius.

“Darius,” he said gently, though his voice was laced with a certain sadness. “How do you feel?”

Darius looked up to see that the man was no other than Father Louis, who gazed at him with the same warm expression that he always had. His hair was gelled back, as it always was, giving him a clean and sophisticated look. Darius wondered how disheveled he looked right now, having just woken up and immediately being rushed to a bunker by a stampede of panicked souls. He wondered if he was unsightly, and suddenly, it felt as if all eyes were on him, critiquing, watching, and judging, as if he was a wild animal in a zoo. He dug his nails into his skin harder, as if he were trying to squeeze out an answer using his own blood.

“I’m okay,” he said, averting his gaze from his mentor. “What’s going on?” Darius asked, hiding his anguish and anxiety with the sharp pain that resulted from his dull fingernails digging into his skin.

“Ah,” Father Louis sighed. “Toskamiria sent missiles.”

“Oh,” said Darius, his heart somehow beating even faster than before, sinking to his chest as he thought about the innocent people of his nation being hurt by such wickedness.

Father Louis placed a hand on Darius’ head, ruffling his hair as to comfort him. “It will all be okay. Our nation is strong, and not only that, but you’re strong yourself as well. Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. You just need to remember what you’re fighting for. You remember, don’t you?” “Yeah…” Darius paused before going on, fear turning into anger as the words of Father Louis were slowly absorbed into his mind. “I’ll destroy them, every single one of them! There won’t be a single one left that doesn’t pay the price of their sins!” Darius’ face had become strained with anger, becoming a darker shade of red as he continued to speak.

“Yes, yes,” Father Louis said breathily as he gripped Darius’ shoulder. “You’ll do well, I know it. I’ve trained you myself, after all. I’ve watched your progress, your development. You’ve come a long way. You’ll save the world from wickedness, Darius.” Darius’ blood ran cold at the implication of his words. “Yes, you, Darius,” Father Louis repeated, as to confirm Darius’ suspicion. “Remember what I taught you. Your Leaders are guiding you, you don’t have to do any of the hard work. Just listen to them. They are receiving holy instructions from The Creator, as you know. You should be grateful for your nation, you don’t even need to lift a finger. Everything’s already set up for you, all you need to do is offer yourself, your body, your soul as a vessel.”

Darius looked down at his arm. There were now four red, swollen moon crescents on each arm, around them small smears of blood now having dried to a shade of dark brown. He looked up to Father Louis and nodded. “Yes, Father Louis.”

“Let us pray, Darius.”

Both bowed their heads as Father Louis began reciting the prayer. “By the light of our sacred order, we pledge our souls to the divine and the governing hand that guides us. We submit our will to the eternal laws of our faith and the sovereign authority that reigns supreme. Through unwavering devotion and obedience, we honor the ultimate union of religion and state, sealing our loyalty in this eternal covenant. Amen.”

“Amen.”

Father Louis smiled warmly at Darius, reaching an arm over to lay a hand on his back, resting his fingers in between the rigid bumps of his spine. “Watch out for yourself, hero. Be careful.”

Darius nodded, slowly dozing off to sleep, the exhaustion finally taking over his body.

While he was unconscious, he dreamt. He dreamt of large trees, branches and leaves swaying to the rhythm of the wind. He thought of climbing them, and looking down below him to see the ant colonies of people and villages, peacefully working and living. He dreamt that he looked behind him, and saw a pigeon holding a rolled up letter within its claws. He reached his hand out, taking it, before unraveling it with precision and caution. It appeared to be a map, with a certain location marked. He looked to the sky to determine his direction, and then made his way towards the location which was marked with a large ‘X.’ He walked endlessly, ignoring the tension in his chest, the ache of his feet. After running through tall grass, jumping over rocks, and climbing hills that seemed much smaller from below, Darius made it to the river that laid just above the mark. This was the location, but Darius could not see anything out of the ordinary, nothing loudly glaring at him. He walked alongside the river, watching as fish jumped in and out of the water in perfect unison, almost as if they were marching towards something. He continued to walk down the river, before reaching the mouth of the river, where there was a large mass of fish corpses, unmoving, and already being scavenged by the fauna nearby. He looked back and watched as the fish continued to march towards the end, suddenly dying as they reached the mouth. He looked to the sky, watching as a flock of geese glided through the wind together in the formation of the letter ‘V.’ before they soared above his head, suddenly dropping dead to the ground. The animals which had begun to feast on the remains looked directly at Darius with wide eyes, and had then begun to contort their bodies in unnatural ways, before dropping dead. Darius looked around, to see what could have been the cause of such a phenomenon, but the only thing that was out of the ordinary, was him and his presence.

⬺

Some time had passed. How much time was unknown, for no light entered the dark cement room, and Darius awoke, being lightly nudged in the shoulder by Father Louis. “Good morning, Darius,” Father Louis said, adjusting his glasses to sit at the tip of his nose. “Have you rested?”

Darius shivered, feeling his stomach turn at the abstract dream he had had, shifting to sit upright. “What’s happened since I fell asleep? How long has it been?”

Father Louis looked away from Darius, gazing up at the migraine-causing fluorescent lights above them. “Those missiles… Darius, they were targeting civilians. That’s why we had to evacuate to the emergency shelter.. Schools, hospitals, children and women.”

Darius’ head quickly swiveled to stare at Father Louis, his mouth just barely opening as he took in a shallow breath and his eyebrows furrowing in concern, which soon turned into an expression of pure anger. But before he could say anything, Father Louis gently took Darius’ hand into his own, engulfing it in a dry coolness.

“Darius, son,” Father Louis said as gently as possible, letting his eyelids fall over his eyes, almost completely covering them. “It’s your time now. Following the missile attack, the Leaders issued a statement requiring all students of the training academies aged fourteen and older to fight, to be sent to the border in order to battle. You’re what, sixteen now, yes?”

Darius looked up with wide eyes, slowly nodding. “But… battle?”

“Yes, battle.” Father Louis gently handed Darius a carefully folded pine green military uniform.

Darius looked down, holding the uniform tightly, as he frowned and furrowed his brows. “I’m not ready,” he said. Darius knew that he had spent his entire life training. He knew that his body was in one of the best forms it could be. But even with this, he didn’t feel like he had enough time to prepare. He thinks to himself, that he feels like he never might have enough time, because he is pathetic and weak, and is not fit to serve his nation, as much as he wants to be a hero. A body such as his could never be a sufficient vessel for the Holy Leaders, filled to the brim with sin and the darkness of human nature.

“You’re ready. You’ve trained. Must I remind you how blessed you are to be under the rule of our Leaders? You want to save your nation, don’t you? Stop acting so pathetic,” Father Louis said, his eyes seeming to turn into a cold gray as he continued speaking. “It’s your duty, Darius. You can’t ignore it. Do you want to be punished? As if being so pathetic and cowardly isn’t enough of a punishment in itself? You’ve seen what happens to those who ignore the supreme rule, yes? Wouldn’t you rather be a hero, Darius? Isn’t it your dream? I’ve never heard of a hero being scared to save his people, his nation. Don’t you care about the innocent women, children, mothers and fathers, all who suffered at the hands of Toskamiria for so long? Doesn’t it repulse you? Don’t you feel nauseous thinking about it? Have you been tainted? Do you not care for these lives? Are you no longer human, Darius? Do you no longer care? Or are you afraid?” Father Louis taunted, with Darius being completely oblivious to his egging, for he is rather naive, and had been sheltered his whole life.

“I–” Darius stuttered. “I’m not scared,” he said, more so as to convince himself rather than others. “I care,” said Darius, intensely looking up at Father Louis.

“Then,” he paused, glaring down at Darius. “Become a hero,” he said, brushing dry fingers beneath Darius’ chin, slowly lifting it up. “Haven’t you always wanted to be a hero, Darius?”

Darius looked up with a hopeful expression, however with fear still lingering in his eyes. “Yes, Father Louis” he said with a confirming nod.

⬺

It’s not that Darius was afraid of planes, it’s just that it could really explode any minute. Or the engine could simply fail and the plane would plummet 10,000 meters straight into a tree, setting everything within a kilometer into flames. Or that it could suddenly dip into the ocean and sink everything and everyone inside it. No, he wasn’t afraid. Those fighting to be a hero for their nation could never be afraid of something as silly as a plane. But despite this, Darius grasped onto his seat as tightly he could, swallowing back a bit of bile each time the air caused the plane to rock slightly.

He began to think about what was ahead of him. His journey was finally starting. He could not say with honesty that he wasn’t afraid. In reality, he didn’t feel prepared. He was mediocre afterall. Despite his efforts, he wasn’t the strongest, nor the smartest, and he certainly wasn’t at all talented. At least that was what his superiors had told him. No, he was certainly afraid, but when remembering what Father Louis had told him, he swept all his fears away. He had a duty to serve his nation of Achalasia and the Leaders. In an attempt to soothe his nerves, he thought of Father Louis. Ever since Darius was young, he remembered the wrinkles around Father Louis’ eyes, and as he grew up he watched those wrinkles grow longer and deeper. He remembered his blonde locks that would soon grow thin and gray. He was truly a good man, always taking care of Darius. Teaching him, watching him grow, making sure he remained as pure as he could be, keeping a train on its rails. Because children were often separated from their blood, it was the religious leaders and teachers who took care of them, making sure they grew up perfectly, without interference from any figure who could be damaging to them. After all, a simple commoner is sinful and full of blemishes, and those blemishes would undoubtedly tarnish the soul of a pure being, riddling them with sin and damning them to hell. Darius didn’t know where he came from or who his blood relatives were. The Leaders had preached that while blood family is important, it is of even higher importance that the youth grow to be perfect, without blemish. It was only a small period of time that families would be separated, and soon the bonds of blood would reconnect, when the world would be under the rule of The Leaders, the Utopia created by the Governance of Achalasia.

The plane soon began to tilt forward, signaling that the descent was taking place.

⬺

Darius exited the plane, his legs feeling like they were of a newborn deer attempting to walk for the first time. He grabbed his bags and awaited further instructions from his superiors, in the meantime sitting on a moss-covered rock.

“Attention!” boomed the voice of the General, a large man with short, buzzed hair, with a large mustache adorning his face. A woman with light blonde hair and pale skin stood next to him, her eyes tired, having dark rings beneath them.

Everyone turned to look at him, waiting to receive orders.

“Line up!”

Everyone did as he asked.

“Soldiers, which you must come to terms with that you are now, are in a new chapter of your lives. You’ve been called to serve for your nation and The Leaders. As they have taken care of you, and done all for you that had to be done, you are now paying your debt and fulfilling your duties as the Soldiers of The Holy Leaders. This is not simply a conflict over territories or money. No, this is about protection. Not only physical protection, but the preservation of pure souls, and ensuring that a utopia will be created under the rule of The Leaders. You are now a part of a formidable force that will go up against the corrupt nation of Toskamiria, which has recently committed a heinous act against Achalasia. Innocent lives were taken by those malicious evildoers. We cannot simply ignore this, which is why you are all here today. I am here to guide you in this journey, in battle and in the life of a soldier, which will be troublesome and difficult. In the next few days, you will undergo strenuous training–a thousand times more exhausting than what you have experienced thus far. Your limits will be pushed, and you will find that you had power you were not aware of. You will learn to work together, to rely on each other, and to develop strategies. This will, however, in comparison to the entirety of your journey, be a simple hiccup. Every lesson, all of the training, is to prepare you for the realities you are about to face. Our opponent is a daunting one. They have their strengths, and they have their desires. But what they don’t have is our unwavering spirit, our dedication. And not only that, our purity. Whereas they are rabid dogs, biting their teeth into any piece of meat they see, we are eagles who soar above, claiming our victory with precision and fearlessness. We fight for important values, justice, freedom, and the pursuit of a better world. One without sin, without blemish, without stain. As you go on your journeys, remember what you are doing this for. You are a part of a legacy. A legacy of bravery, honor, and sacrifice. Draw your strength knowing that you are a part of something so pure. We will face our enemies with our heads held high. Any obstacle can be overcome with our courage and resolve. Together, we will achieve victory. Stand tall, support one another, and remember why you are fighting. Welcome, soldiers, and prepare for a challenging road ahead of you.”

All soldiers saluted the Colonel with a yell, Darius quickly mimicking their movements.

⬺

It was then that everyone was separated into their respective squads.

“Troop 18, huh?” Darius muttered to himself as he was assigned a squad and began finding his way to where they were camped. As he was walking, he bumped into something very tall. The wind was knocked out of Darius as he soon found himself looking up at a tall woman with slick black hair that was tied back tightly. Her skin was pale and her eyes were covered by a pair of black shades. Her sunglasses masked any emotion that could be shown through her eyes, making her appear completely unexpressive and cold. Darius felt frozen as he stared up at her. He tried to swallow, but his throat was completely dry.

“776F6C660A?... Darius?” she asked in a monotone voice.

“..Yes, ma’am…!”

She stared at Darius, but he did not know where it was she was looking, inspecting, and scrutinizing, for her eyes were hidden by the dark glasses.

“They must be desperate now,” she mumbled to herself. It wasn’t a false statement, after all. Every year, the recruits appeared to be younger and younger, weaker and less trained. Less prepared. It was only understandable, after all. After years of being at war, nations were bound to lose men, great quantities of them. Whether it be from battle, sickness, or hunger, they were bound to drop dead, marching to their deaths with no way to turn back. There was only replacing.

Darius stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration as he waited for her to continue.

She made no changes in her facial expression, instead deeply sighing before continuing. “I am Sergeant Zehra. Come with me,” she commanded.

Darius followed her, keeping a slight distance between them. A feeling of anxiety crept into his stomach, it slightly churning in response. The bile began to climb up his esophagus, leaving a burning pain where it travelled. He didn’t believe where he was, what he was doing. Despite having trained his entire life for this, he couldn’t fathom that the ground he walked on, the sound of soldiers marching vibrating his tympanic membrane, the sight of tents filled with guns and ammo, was all real. Did he truly belong here? Why, of course. It is his duty. As it is for all the other citizens of Achalasia. It wasn’t long that Darius was stuck in his thoughts, however, as it was as they approached their camp that a… sorry sight laid on their eyes.

“Hey assholes…! Help me!!!” yelled the man with a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

Darius couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The man had somehow managed to get himself trapped in a trash can. Only his legs and… backside could be seen. Had he been reaching for something…? Darius’ thoughts and speculations were interrupted when an incredibly large man with powerful features and long dreads approached the shameful scene.

“I’ll help you, Joán,” he said softly before grabbing Joán’s hips and easily lifting him in the air.

“Jesus…! Fernando, put me down–I’m gonna be sick, dude–” Joán’s complaints soon shifted to sounds of gagging as Fernando attempted to free him of the bin. Darius watched the disturbing scene unfold, mouth agape and wide open. It was then that he heard a girl laughing hysterically.

“Stop laughing!!! This is your fault!” shouted Joán, whose upper body remained stuck in the bin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said the girl, covering her mouth in an attempt to muffle her amusement. “I’ll help too…!” she said, before walking closer to him and taking a hold of his legs. She harshly pulled, but Joán did not budge.

“Be gentler, Malai!” urged Fernando, concern written on his face.

“Yeah, c’mon, you’re hurting me,” said Joán.

“Don’t be a baby, you’re fine!” said Malai, pulling with even more strength, veins bulging out of her arms as she strained herself.

“Here, Malai, move over,” said Fernando, pushing her to the side to take her place. “Hold onto me from behind and help pull,” he said, Malai nodding and swiftly moving to do as he commanded.

“One…two…three…PULL!” shouted Fernando, as both Malai and Fernando pulled, but were unsuccessful, only earning a groan from Joán.

“This is it. This is my life now…” said Joán, despairingly.

Malai, ignoring what Joán had said, looked over to Darius. “Hey! You over there! Come over here!” she shouted at Darius.

Darius nodded slowly and wide-eyed, moving quickly over to the three.

“Grab onto me like the way I’m holdin’ onto Fernando, okay?” she said, Darius nodding and doing as she asked.

“One…two…three…PULL!”

This time, Joán came tumbling out of the bin, his face fully red from remaining still in such a position for a prolonged amount of time, and the other three all fell back onto each other like dominoes.

“Oof!” everyone exclaimed.

“Ough…my back…” moaned Joán, rubbing at his lower back, which had been bent at a ninety degree angle for a time that no one could quite say. “Ough…”

Malai laughed hysterically, Joán groaned in pain and frustration, and Fernando had a look of apology written on his face, despite not having been the one to put Joán in such a position.

“I’m never helping you again,” said Joán, opening his palm to offer Malai the object that he was fishing for: a baby bluejay it seemed, having fluffy, light blue feathers sticking out of its head.

“You don’t mean that!” said Malai with a grin, gladly taking the bluejay into her hands. “Hey, little guy!” she said with a warm smile, before it nipped her hand.

“Ouch!” she waved the bitten hand to ease the sharp pain.

“Serves you right,” scoffed Joán.

“Don’t be like that!” said Malai with a grin. “And thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, sitting down and resting his chin on his hand, before looking up at Darius. “Who’s this?”

“Oh! I completely forgot! Zehra told me we would have a new kid with us! His name’s uh, Dari, Darsus? Darous? I dunno, somethin’ weird!”

“Darius,” Darius corrected.

“Ah! Yes! Darius!” she said, correcting herself. “Do you wanna see my bird?” she asked, shoving the baby bluejay into his face.

Darius stared into its eyes which were quite too large for its head. “It’s very nice,” said Darius, unsure of what else to say.

“I found him outside a tree, and then I chased him. But ya know, even though the babies can’t fly all too well, they run pretty fast. But this guy didn’t know where he was goin’ so he flew right into this trash can. I thought it’d be funny to see Joán go inside it, so I asked him to get it. I didn’t think he’d get fully stuck!” she laughed, avoiding Joán’s annoyed glare.

“Whatever!” said Joán, rolling his eyes.

Darius watched his new comrades bicker as a small blush formed across his face.

The sun had soon begun to set, and the aroma of potatoes and chicken filled the air. The small breeze that had blown the tallgrass into waves was slowing down, indicating the nearing of the still night that was to come. Darius found himself sitting on a bench, waiting to be summoned to eat. After some time, Sergeant Zehra suddenly appeared before him. Her dark sunglasses blocked out her eyes, but he could still see the sharp lines of her cheekbones that sat high on her face.

“I am in charge of you as well as the rest of the squad, I believe you have already met the rest of them,” she said calmly.

Darius waited for her to go on, but when she didn’t, he simply nodded.

Zehra stared at him momentarily, as if she was trying to read him, understanding him only by his facial expressions and body movements. She turned to face the sky as she continued. “If you listen to me, you won’t die. Don’t go off on your own trying to act like a hero if you want to survive.”

Darius looked up at her, trying to read anything on her expression. A twitch in the lips, the rise of an eyebrow, anything. Nothing. Her expression was completely unreadable. He wondered if this was a sort of threat, something to make him stay in line. He felt his hands grow clammy as his heartrate quickened, being unsure of what to say. He had never interacted with such a strange individual. Darius soon nodded his head, standing to salute her with a ‘Yes, Sergeant!’ and watched her as she nodded, before turning to leave.

A bell soon chimed, signaling everyone to rise and receive their meals. The line quickly became lengthy, stretching across the entire campground. One Darius had his meal, he heard his name called by a familiar voice.

“Here! Darius! Come sit here!” shouted Malai from a table in the distance.

Darius sat next to her, and saw that Zehra, Fernando, and Joán were also all seated there. He took this opportunity to really look at Joán, since he hadn’t actually seen his face due to the incident that took place only a few hours earlier. He had a very rectangular, somewhat long face. His cheeks had dimples and he had two moles that sat beneath his left eye. His eyes were catlike and his hair was black and had a fashionable trim. He didn’t look to be the type of person to be so ditsy. But even so, he appeared to be friendly. As he continued to analyze his new teammates, a soft voice spoke up.

“I didn’t get to introduce myself yet, my apologies,” said Fernando in the same soft tone as before. “I am Fernando.”

“I’m Darius,” he replied, hesitantly shaking Fernando’s hand.

Darius took a second to observe Fernando’s features. He had very sharp lines, which was to be expected due to his large frame that consisted mostly of muscle. He had a fairly faded scar across his nose, and had small wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His observations were interrupted by a somewhat nasally voice.

“This is that kid… Did he really see everything…?” Joán said, not fully finishing his sentence as a blush formed on his cheeks.

“Haha! He saw everything! Right there with us!” Malai said with a laugh, Joán waving her off as she burst out laughing.

A smile crept on Darius’ face as he watched his new comrades bicker. He waited until a lull in the conversation to ask the burning question that had been on his mind.

“Well, I’m Joán. Pronounced ‘joh-on.’ Not Joan. It’s nice to meetcha, kid,” he said, trailing off. “...Thanks for your help earlier.”

Darius nodded, making sure to note the pronunciation of his name, as it appeared to be something that was a recurring issue.

“Say, do you guys think August falls under summer or autumn?” asked Darius.

“What kinda question is that?” asked Joán.

“If you’re going to be technical, it falls under summer according to meteorologists” replied Fernando.

“Woah, woah, there’s no way August is summer. Sure, it might still be a bit warm, but if the leaves are falling, that means it’s autumn," said Joán.

“Me too, it’s far too sad to be in summer, plus, the word ‘August’ just looks like a fall word,” agreed Malai.

“I wonder if those in other climates would disagree with us then…? Since some seasons last longer or shorter in other areas?” asked Fernando.

“It’s official! This year marks the first year that August is labeled ‘autumn!’” shouted Malai while slamming her hands down on the table, rattling plates and utensils.

“...Oops!”

The table erupted in hushed giggles, those around them giving dirty glances.

“Malai… be more careful…” said Fernando in a whisper, receiving a glare from Zehra.

“Oops, haha. My bad. Let’s clink our glasses, what do they say? Cheers!”

“Cheers!” they all shouted as their glasses collided with each other.

Darius felt his cheek muscles unnaturally stiffen as he smiled. Yes, this journey would be interesting.

Chapter 2: Training

Alarms blared once again, although this time it wasn’t nearly as loud. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but all frantically scattered out of their beds, making sure they were neat, and then going on to don themselves in their uniforms. Darius followed, copying everyone else’s movements. Only a few minutes had passed when Darius seemed to be complete with his morning tasks. He went outside and found that everyone was lined up. He quickly joined the formation, squeezing in between two seemingly much older soldiers. He sighed in relief after a few moments, assuming that he had done everything correctly. He let his mind relax momentarily, before he saw an officer holding a man by the hair, pushing him forward in front of the crowd. He appeared to be no older than twenty, yet the fear in his eyes haunted the mind of Darius.

“Soldiers, you are lined up here today to learn from example, what happens when you betray our motherland,” the officer said, before pushing the man down onto his knees, still gripping his hair violently. “666561720A was found in the Northern forest of Achalasia after having run away and hidden himself, escaping his duties as a soldier of Achalasia, a citizen of Achalasia. Let this be an example to anyone who dares think of desertion, evading their duties as a citizen of our great nation.” The officer drew his gun, standing directly behind the man as he sobbed, the fear in his eyes only exemplified with the large globs of tears that ran down his reddened face. Darius looked briefly to the side, seeing Zehra standing alongside other Sergeants, Captains, and Officers, but seemingly not watching what was unfolding. It was the first time he saw her without her sunglasses, her glare being clearly visible in the morning sun. He then turned to look at the soldiers nearby him. Everyone’s jaws were tightened, the muscle protruding slightly from beneath their cheeks. No one dared move, speak, or even shiver. Darius saw Malai, Joán, and Fernando out of the corner of his eye, their heads looking straight ahead at the scene, not moving an inch. Darius slowly turned his back to face the man who stood kneeling before the crowd of cleanly lined up soldiers. The man seemingly stopped to cry for a second, taking a sharp breath, before opening his mouth.

‘It’s all–”

A gunshot sounded from behind him, the officer already putting his gun back into the holster, then placing his foot on the man's neck, his boot slowly pushing further and further, before a crack echoed throughout the area, and the officer simply placed his foot back on the ground.

“Return to your Leaders, begin training,” he commanded, everyone saluting with a yell.

⬺

Darius desperately looked for any sign, any glint of light in eyes, any fluttering breath, something that would confirm the feeling he felt in the bottom of his stomach, sitting uneasily, mixing with what little he had eaten that morning. But nothing came, and everyone made no mention of the event, almost as if they had already forgotten it, a memory swept away by the autumn winds, shared by the leaves which danced away in the sky. Perhaps, he wasn’t ready, and perhaps, he simply was of a weak mind and stomach.

During a break in training, he made his way towards Malai, Joán, and Fernando. He looked around to make sure no officers were nearby, especially not Zehra. Malai was drinking water abundantly, being taken over by thirst, yet being careful as to not let anything spill. Water, after all, was in today’s day, something that, while not particularly difficult to come by in Achalasia specifically, had become somewhat scarcer as centuries passed, especially after the Great War. Fernando had been carving something out of a small block of wood, however, Darius could not yet tell what it was supposed to resemble. Joán had made a small fan out of leaves to cool himself, however, the fan did not appear to function well, as it was floppy, and did not provide the bursts of air Joán had hoped for.

“What’s up?” Joán asked as he saw Darius approach them out of the corner of his eye, offering a grin and gesturing to him to sit.

Darius sat down next to him, peeling his shirt away from his body, sighing in relief as he no longer felt the moist fabric filled with sweat sticking to his skin. “So…” he began, hesitantly approaching the topic. “Was that…?” he said, his voice rising in pitch at the end as if it were a question, despite it not being one, as if he were attempting to be as neutral on the topic as possible.

“Ah, yeah, defection,” said Fernando, not looking away from his wood carving, continuing to whittle away at the corners and sides. Darius noted that it was beginning to look like a fish. “They’ll make a scene of it whenever we receive the newest recruits. You’ll… get used to it,” said Fernando, as he dug the whittling knife into the block of wood, carving out the eye of the fish.

Darius slowly nodded, slightly disturbed by the image that he would have to watch that again. “Why would anyone do that? Defect, I mean,” he asked, watching Fernando as his hands seemed to grip the knife harder, pushing patterns into the wood.

Malai let out an audible ‘gulp’ as she finished drinking water, her thirst seemingly quenched, before she took over in answering. “Who knows? It could be for a lot of reasons. Sometimes they’re just scared,” she said, walking closer to them before taking a seat on the ground next to Darius. Darius stared at her, curious as to her approach in answering. Her answer was somewhat soft, more considerate towards the perpetrator rather than judgemental. It was a sharp contrast compared to the harsh words of the officer, who seemed to attempt to pull rage, disgust, and malice out of the soldiers, to instill in them a deep hatred of anyone who even dared to think of committing an act.

“Are you scared?” asked Darius, tilting his head just slightly as he moved his knees up, pushing them together and wrapping his arms around them.

Malai blinked at him. “Scared?” She asked, unsure of what he meant. “Of dying…? That’s a morbid question for so early in the morning,” she said with a laugh. Or do you mean fighting?”

Darius shrugged. “Both?”

Malai hummed in consideration. “I’d like to think not. But in reality, I think we all fear death to some extent. Whether it be the actual process or the aftermath. Some yearn for the part that comes after, but fear the undertaking. Some don’t fear the undertaking, but instead fear what awaits them on the other side. I’ve noticed myself, it tends to be a bit of both in religious types. Guess it depends on how sure you are that you’re a good enough person to go to heaven,” she said.

“Which are you?” asked Darius.

Malai sighed. “I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought. I don’t like to think about things like that. There’s no point in dwelling on it either, I’ll know when the time comes,” she blinked at Darius with a grin before adding on. “You only met us yesterday, but already asking such deep questions. You’re a silly boy, Darius.”

Darius gave her a shy smile and nodded. “I think I fear what comes after. I feel my sins outweigh my good,” he said, suddenly.

Joán raised an eyebrow. “What sins? You’re like, ten years old, or something.”

“I’m sixteen,” Darius said bluntly, not exactly picking up on the figurative language that Joán tended to use. “And you, Joán? Do you think your good outweighs your sin? Do you think you’ll make it to Paradise?”

“Eh, well…who knows…? I’ve done a few things…” said Joán, not clarifying further, receiving raised eyebrows of suspicion from the other three.

“Do you think us being soldiers, our jobs being to kill, makes us automatically barred from entering Paradise?” asked Fernando, who was nearly finished with the carving of the wooden fish.

A chill ran down Darius’ spine. Was he going to Hell for what he has done? What he is about to do? Surely not, because Achalasia was holy, and while in the midst of purification, was still ruled by Holy Leaders and the Holy Church. Their commands couldn’t be wrong or sinful, for they were the pure words that were transcribed by them from God. What they were doing now was just cleaning. Purification of Achalasia, purification of people, purification of the world. The Leaders would create a Utopia, one free of the blemishes of sin. Darius had to trust them, and even if he had to pay the price for the process, he would gladly do so, because it is his duty.

“I don’t think so,” is all Darius replied with, instead.

The rest of the day went smoothly, consisting mainly of training, specifically endurance activities, and the next day would likely consist of strength training. Darius smiled at the sky that night, watching as stars flickered, pulsated with light in the darkened sky. His body suddenly felt stronger, and he was filled with an even stronger desire to train, and prepare himself to be directed, led, commanded by the Leaders, to be their vessel, their weapon, their mop.

The next few weeks consisted of training, though the crew always managed to break away from the serious nature of everything.

⬺

As time passed, Darius began to notice things about his new comrades. Firstly, he quickly found that despite his intimidating appearance, Fernando’s voice was soft, and his words were kind. He always had a rather saddened look in his eyes, yet never spoke of anything sorrowful. Instead, he continued smiling at everyone, the lines of age on his face becoming more prominent as he did so. Darius had learned that before becoming a soldier, Fernando was a husband and father, and always spoke fondly of his children. His words were joyful, yet his tone was that of someone heartbroken and missing. He discovered that he had worked as a firefighter, allowing him to achieve such a large physique. Darius wondered what it felt like to be surrounded by flames.

Darius also learned about Joán. He was a strange character, often flirtatious with women, yet seemed to never truly care whether or not they took interest in him, unlike other men who would become angry. Joán didn’t speak much of his past, saying that it wasn’t all that interesting, but did mention that he had two sisters, both younger than him. He spoke as if they were annoying, yet smiled as he did so, with a similar sadness in eyes as Fernando had. Even so, Joán remained a rather light-hearted person, always joking, even if his humor was often crude and inappropriate.

Malai, similarly to Joán, was very interesting. She almost never seemed down, instead taking interest in the world around her, picking at every leaf and blade of grass, inspecting it as if it were the most intriguing thing in the world. She would mimic the sounds of birds and squirrels, and then chase after them as if she were a dog. She didn’t speak of her past, instead saying that it wasn’t important anymore, for she had moved on. Darius wondered if it could truly be the case that one could walk away from their past, or if it was forever entwined with their very soul and being. He never pushed the topic, and instead nodded and accepted her for who she was in that very moment.

Zehra was, if not intimidating, then queer. She was strict, extremely so, and often did not tolerate any sort of tomfoolery. She moved and behaved like a robot, completely disconnected from any part of her that could be human. Darius had once seen her kick Joán in the stomach after he had jokingly taken a piece of bread from Malai’s plate. Yet this strictness never seemed to reach Malai, and instead, Zehra would simply watch as she did anything, with a look of neutrality rather than disapproval. It was the only time she ever seemed to appear to be a real person. Darius wondered why it was that Zehra allowed such behavior and actions only from one person, and why the strictness did not extend to her. He wondered if they had a past of some sort, where Malai had access to a secret of Zehra’s. He couldn’t fathom any other reason for this unexplained behavior.

When he watched all of them together, he noticed that Malai and Joán got along very well, always joyful together, as if they didn’t have a thought in their heads. Whenever they would play games or bicker in a friendly manner, he would notice Zehra watching from afar, her expression completely neutral and her body still.

Fernando, if not alone, was usually being pestered by Joán and Malai, who he only ever smiled at in return.

⬺

“Hey guys, look, I caught a fish!” said Joán, who stood in the river, sleeves rolled up so as to not get them wet.

“Great, we can roast it and eat it!” said Fernando.

“You can’t do that! Look, it’s so cute!” exclaimed Malai, going over to the fish and petting it as if it were a dog.

“I guess it is kinda cute,” said Darius, looking over at it.

“Malai…” said Fernando, dejectedly, before Joán let out a yelp as the fish wriggled out of his grasp and plunged back into the water.

“Aw crap, my fish!” cried Joán.

They ate bread that night.

⬺

The next few weeks were nothing special. It was to be expected that every single day would just consist of grueling hours of physical training, accompanied by the loud orders screamed out by the superiors. Wake up before dawn, train, train, train, and then go to bed hours after the sun has set. Yes, it was truly demanding, draining, and hellish. But Darius knew it was okay. His body was simply a vessel for something greater. He was going to save his nation. All those abhorrent nations, full of sin and despicable people would be slain by his hand. Yes, it was good, his body would only feel broken temporarily. It would soon rebuild, all the muscle fibers slowly becoming tighter and stronger as they repaired themselves, and he would be fit as a vessel. It was his duty after all.

⬺

It was now the middle of September, and one could surely say it was now fall. A great quantity of leaves had turned yellow and brown, and were now falling to the ground, soon to be covered in a light blanket of snow. The seemingly never-ending hours of training had begun to slow down, allowing for the preparations to march towards the border. Darius had been lost in his thoughts and poking the ground with a twig when Malai approached him.

“Whassup, Darius? Why do ya look so sad?” she asked with a wide grin.

Darius looked up at her for a brief moment, before returning to looking down at the ground where a beetle was slowly crawling.

“I don’t really like fall. Everyone says it’s all pretty n’ stuff, but to me, it just means everythin’ is changing. I don’t really like change, it means I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I feel all outta control n’ stuff, ya know?” Darius replied, drawing a circle in the dirt around the beetle, trapping it.

Malai took a seat next to him in the grass, watching how the beetle avoided moving past the lines that had been drawn, despite nothing really stopping it from doing so. “You think that bug woulda known some giant would trap it?”

Darius looked to his side, confused by the sudden change in topic. “Er–no…?”

Malai looked at him with a small smile before taking the twig from him and lifting the beetle outside the enclosure. “The scariest things are the unknown, yea? But the most great things can be as well. Although you might find yourself in some unpredicted situation, rest easy knowing your friends are there for you. Even if you somehow get turned into a beetle that got trapped by a giant, we will find a way to help you–but not before we laugh at you for a bit, yea?” Malai laughed as she uttered the last bit of her speech.

Darius twiddled his thumbs, picking at the skin on the side of it. “Friends?”

Malai looked up at Darius, confused, before giving him a kind smile. “Duh! What else?” she said, grinning widely.

A small blush appeared on Darius’ cheeks as a smile crept onto his face. He had never really had ‘friends.’ Such relationships were trivial, unimportant, is what the Leaders had told him. He was to focus on training and studies, not childish games. But it felt good, to be called a friend, to have a friend. Perhaps it was nothing more than stupidity and naivety, but Darius felt a twinge of happiness and comfort rise in his chest.

Malai stood up, ruffling his hair as she did so. “You are just so strange, Darius!”

“Huh?”

Before he knew it, he was engulfed in a bear hug from Malai.

“You’ve never hugged me like that before! I thought we were friends!” exclaimed Joán.

Malai looked back at Joán with a wide grin before sticking her tongue out playfully, Joán feigning offense by placing the back of his hand to his forehead and crying out.

It was soon night, and at dawn they would march towards the border of Sersaria.

Chapter 3: March

In complete honesty, it was still night, despite the General saying that it was dawn. But at the moment, it didn’t matter what Darius thought, as they had all left camp and begun to march south towards the border. Darius let out a yawn, bringing his hand up to his eyes to rub the tiredness out of them. Fernando glanced over at him with a soft expression.

“You tired?”

Darius looked up, the darkness extenuating the dark circles around his eyes, then responding with a nod. Fernando placed his hand on Darius’ head comfortingly, as if to say he was sorry. Fernando was forty four years old after all, and he knew too well what Darius was feeling, especially after having been serving for years now. Malai, who had been walking alongside them, chirped into the conversation.

“‘S alright…! We just need to power through it for a bit. Once we beat them, we can rest!” she said with a smile, raising a fist to her chest.

“I won’t make it…! I’m gonna fall asleep before we even reach the battlefield!” cried Joán, who had been trudging along a few steps behind the others.

“Surely you can go a few hours more…?” asked Malai.

Joán let out a deep groan, Fernando rubbing his upper back reassuringly. Malai let out a chuckle, punching Joán lightly in the arm jokingly. Zehra looked back at them, not showing any emotion.

⬺

Under a canopy of golden leaves that floated in the crisp autumn air, the battlefield stretched out flat, large mountains standing tall in the distance. They were finally here, there was no more going back. Decisions had been set in stone. Darius clutched onto his sleek black rifle as he stood, waiting for directions.

“Secure the perimeter!” shouted a general, soldiers quickly following orders and establishing a defensive line.

Sergeant Zehra looked to her Troop. “Watch for enemy movement. Then hold your position and prepare for enemy contact.”

They did as they were told, quickly following her orders. They each found their place, checking to see if there were any advancements from the opposing side. Joán grabbed the binoculars which rested on his chest and looked through them in an attempt to find any movement from afar.

“Nothin’ so far,” said Joán in a low voice. “Wait–” Joán squinted his eyes, peering even more intently into the binoculars. Darius watched him go completely still as he focused on the task. Despite being so clumsy and inelegant, when Joán had to focus, he did so with precision. This, combined with his excellent eyesight, made him a surprisingly gifted sniper, as well as exceptional at detecting things that would otherwise go unseen. “I can see em’! They’re coming from the mountains…!” Joán said as quietly he could while making sure he was still heard.

“Prepare for battle!” shouted Colonel Freya.

Darius looked out at his fellow soldiers, all having a certain ferocity in their eyes. They held their weapons, getting ready to battle. Darius followed suit, clutching onto his rifle as he took a deep breath. He watched a golden leaf fall onto the soft grass and a flashback take over, because the author of this story does not know how to write battle scenes, so it is easier to distract the audience with a flashback.

⬺

“Darius. What are you doing, Darius?”

“I found this leaf on the ground, isn’t it cool…!?”

“What’s ‘cool’ about it?”

“Er–I mean, well–”

“What’s so interesting about it?”

“It’s just big and pretty… I guess…”

“It’s dead and useless.”

“...I know.”

“So why are you showing me it?”

“‘M sorry.”

“Do you know why you’re here, Darius?”

“To serve The Leaders…?”

“Yes, but more importantly, we are making sure you are pure. So that you are without blemish. So that you are an adequate specimen for The Leaders. You don’t want us to hand over garbage to them, do you? To hand them over a fallen leaf?”

“No, sir.”

“So do you understand?”

He didn’t really understand.

“Yes, sir.”

“Throw that away. Come to room 003 once you’re finished.”

Darius flinched at that. “Yes, sir.”

⬺

Darius snapped out from a particularly sharp nudge to his side.

“What are you doing, daydreaming like that when we are just about to battle?!” Malai asked with anger and concern in her voice.

Darius shook his head, raising a hand to rest on his forehead. “I don’t know what that was. ‘M sorry.”

Malai raised an eyebrow at him. “Ha…?” Malai shook her head, her face still showing concern and confusion. “Er, um… just get ready–and keep your head on straight, yea?”

Darius nodded, and turned to look down at his rifle. It was black and sleek, adorned with walnut wood. He couldn’t remember why or how he dozed off like that. More importantly, why had he thought of that…? He hadn’t remembered that in years. Had that ever even happened? Darius shook these thoughts off, fearing he would lose himself in his head again, which would most certainly mean death.

It was at this point that they could all clearly see the Toskamirian soldiers approaching. Everyone was focused, muscles tensing beneath uniforms, thick beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads. The soldiers watched as the opposing side fell right into the exact formation as expected.

As Zehra and her troop approached their new position, they could see the enemy exposed. Taking advantage of this, Joán steadied his sniper rifle, positioning it at the target. He fired, watching the soldier fall to his knees. While Joán was sniping, Malai, Darius, and Fernando didn’t waste time and had already begun shooting at the rest of them. Darius felt his whole body jump with each shot, vengeance coursing through his veins.

⬺

The battle was over. They had taken the victory here. Darius sighed and sat against a tree. He looked up at the sky, which had now become a vibrant orange. Fernando sat in front of him, starting a fire to provide warmth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malai running towards them with an instrument in her hands.

“Hey guys! Some dead guy had a guitar on him! Does anyone know how to play?” shouted Malai.

Darius’ face lit up at the sight of the instrument. “I can try,” said Darius.

“Here!” Malai handed him the guitar. “Let’s go! You play, I sing.” Darius nodded.

Fernando began to clap an unsteady rhythm, and Darius followed shortly after with the strum of a guitar, but it sounded very bad and out of tune. Malai also began to sing, but it was also quite awful, and together, it created a dissonance that reverberated in their ears. But in the current moment, no one really cares. Because they were alive, the blood in their veins was warm and continued to run through their bodies. They were alive and they were together. That’s all that matters these days.

The sun had soon completely set. Only the sound of the crickets singing and the whistling of the wind could be heard in the dead of the night.

⬺

The sun had begun to rise once again, and another day was upon them. But today was different from others, as the sounds of gunshots had pierced their ears before the warm rays of the sun struck their sleep-filled eyes. Everyone jumped into formation, being on high alert, waiting for commands from their superiors.

“Damn it!” exclaimed Joán as he grabbed his equipment. “They snuck up on us.”

“Shh–! They’ll spot us!” said Malai in a shushed voice.

“Go above, everyone!” commanded Zehra, everyone silently nodding in response. “Don’t move unless you need to. Wait for further instruction.”

They all scrambled up the trees like squirrels and monkeys, hoping to remain unnoticed by the other soldiers.

Shots rang and shouts and yells filled the air. Darius and Joán had finally made it to the top of an oak tree, trying to stay as quiet as possible to avoid being spotted. In the distance, they could see the opposing side coming in waves. There had to be hundreds, maybe thousands. They had already taken over the main campsite, taking goods and belongings. Darius and Joán exchanged looks of worry, before hearing the general shout.

“Retreat!”

Retreat? Run? They couldn’t run! Heroes don’t run. They can’t ignore their duties. They can’t run, it isn’t what they were taught. But Darius then looked down, and saw his comrades, bleeding and moaning in pain. It didn’t take long for him to follow the others in retreating.

⬺

Darius and the others soon found themselves on a ship. As their main campsite had been taken over, they decided to retreat to the nearby Kapuahi islands.

Everyone looked down at the wooden floors of the ship awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the situation. They had lost supplies, men, and didn’t even know what they were going to do once they reached the island.

“Do you guys wanna play a game or somethin’?” asked Malai, resting her cheek in her hand as she sat.

“Sure, let’s play trip poke–” Joán said before being interrupted by Zehra.

“No.”

“Aw c’mon,” Joán said.

“I’ll play with you, Joán. What’s strip poke?” asked Fernando, curiously.

“I’ve never heard of it either,” Darius added on.

“I don’t want to play anymore, my feelings are hurt” replied Joán, sulkingly, curling up into a ball, knees pressed against his chest.

“How about we play ‘I spy’?” asked Malai. “I spy, with my little eye, something green.”

Everyone looked at each other, awkwardly eyeing their army green uniforms.

“...Maybe… nevermind.” said Malai dejectedly.

“Are we there yet?” asked Joán.

“No,” replied Zehra.

“Are you sure we can’t play str–” Joán had attempted to ask before being rudely interrupted by Zehra once more.

“Yes.”

“What will you say on the Day of Judgement in response to your actions?” asked Darius all too seriously with a scowl.

“...I’m sorry, God…” said Joán with a frown and knitted eyebrows as he let his head fall to his chest in repentance.

“Yeah, Joán. You’re going to hell.” said Malai with a point and an unnaturally serious expression.

“Hey…! I said I was sorry!” Joán replied, feigning offense in his voice.

“Guys, do you feel that? It’s so warm all of a sudden,” said Darius, moving to the side of the ship, placing his hands on the rails as he breathed in the ocean air.

“We are almost there, it seems,” replied Zehra.

She was correct. In front of them was the small island of Kawuhani, a part of the Kapuahi islands. As they approached the island, they all watched colorful fish jump out of the water before falling back down with a splash. They soon landed, and returned to land.

Despite only a small body of water between them, the climate was vastly different, with it being significantly hotter and more humid. The vegetation seemed to take over everything, vines running up and down homes and buildings, as if they were snakes, wrapping and coiling around them, and large leaves hovering above, providing shade against the strong rays of the sun.

“Say, do you guys know the ‘Island Theory?’” asked Malai.

“What’s that?” asked Darius in response.

“Basically, they say the smaller the island, the bigger the creatures in it, and the bigger the island is, the smaller they are. This island is pretty small, so everything's gotta be huge now!”

A rustling could be heard, and everyone looked to see Joán looking inside his pants.

“No, I don’t think it’s true,” said Joán.

Everyone sighed, and continued walking through the dense jungle.

“Whatever,” Joán said before getting distracted by a local girl.

“Well buenos dias! That means ‘you’re beautiful’ in an ancient language I studied, by the way. How about a date?” asked Joán, before his vision went dark as a bag was placed over his head.

“Wait–wait! I mean, if you’re into that–but can we–? Eek–!” pleaded Joán before being knocked out and dragged away.

⬺

“Hey, are we missing someone?”

Chapter 4: A Peculiar Friend

“What should we do? We have no idea where Joán is.” asked Fernando.

“You think he saw a girl and went after her and got himself caught?” asked Malai with a chuckle.

“No, no. He’s stupid but I don’t think he would be that stupid. Also you shouldn’t laugh, Malai, he could be in danger.” replied Fernando.

“I think he would be that stupid, look,” Zehra said plainly, pointing at what appeared to be Joán’s boot.

“Oh my God! He’s dead!! He can’t survive on his own! He can barely peel his own potatoes!” exclaimed Malai, putting her hands up to her face.

“Sometimes I need to get him out of bed to get him to brush his teeth...” said Fernando, worried.

“My first impression of him was when he was stuck in a garbage can,” said Darius.

“Let’s go, there are footprints,” said Zehra.

“That is convenient, I must say,” said Fernando, putting a finger up in the air.

Everyone nodded at Zehra in unison, and followed closely behind her.

This little island, however, was no little fight. It was hot, excruciatingly so. All members had already peeled off their sweaty uniforms, tying them around their waists. Everyone looked exhausted, sweaty, and on the verge of collapsing. Well, everyone but Malai, that is. No, Malai was the complete opposite, completely entranced by the scenery around her. She touched any and every new creature, plant, and twig she could, taking mental note of its feel, appearance, and smell. This, while amusing at first, quickly became maddening, which was amplified by the hot sun above them.

“Look! A huge dragonfly! I’ve never seen one so big!” exclaimed Malai.

“Yeah, that’s… great!” said Fernando, cringing.

“Can we keep going?” asked Darius, trying to hide his annoyance.

“Sure, sure, let me just look for a second!” she said, for what was probably the fiftieth time now.

Everyone groaned, but stopped and sat as Malai looked around.

“What if we can’t find him…?” asked Darius, twiddling with the grass beneath him, pulling at it until it came out with the entire root.

“He couldn’t have gone far, it is a relatively small island,” said Zehra.

“But he–”

“Shut up,” Zehra commanded, somewhat aggressively and out of the ordinary.

Darius looked up at Zehra, unable to hide his surprise, forming a response in his head before closing his mouth, knowing it was better not to argue with his superior. “Yes, Sergeant.”

“Malai, we need to continue–what… what is that…?”

Malai turned in response, a monkey perched on her shoulder. It appeared to have something in its mouth. “Look! It’s eating a lemon! Isn’t that strange! I didn’t know they ate that! And look at how kind it is! I’ve heard these guys throw their poo at people sometimes, but I’m thinkin’ that’s just a rumour. Ya know, I think I’m gonna keep him. What should I name him?”

Darius looked up at Zehra, expecting her to shut down the idea and grab Malai by the collar and drag her. That never came, however, and instead Zehra simply stood up and walked a bit closer to Malai.

“I have heard that in ancient times, something sour used to be called ‘hamud’. Is this something that could work as a name…?” Zehra said shyly with a blush forming on her cheeks, as if she was unsure if it was a silly idea. It was certainly an unnatural look on his superior’s face.

“Hamud. Hamud. Hamud the monkey! Hamud the lemon-eating monkey! I think it works beautifully! Come now Hamud, you’re gonna be my best buddy!” Malai said with a grin, before looking at a very relieved but also dejected looking Zehra. “Oh! Well, I mean after my buddies here. They have guns so I can’t say things like that but between you and me,” Malai goes into a whisper. “You’re my best bud!”

They finally continue walking, getting further and further from the base where all the other soldiers were set up, forming plans. Zehra had been given special permission to be absent at the meetings that would take place until they had found Joán. She would be filled in later, surely. But as of right now, she had to make sure her soldiers were safe. Of course, Joán had the tendency to find himself in embarrassing and pathetic situations, it was still a possibility that something serious had happened. They were on a different nation's territory, after all.

The footsteps appeared to become more and more recent, and it eventually led to an opening in the forest that revealed a small village with buildings made of straw, wood, and leaves. At first, nothing seemed suspicious, and they assumed they had followed a random path. That was until they heard pathetic cries coming from a certain building that was more hidden away than the others.

“Let’s go.” commanded Zehra. “We need to hide, make a plan, and stick to it.”

⬺

When Joán opened his eyes, he looked up to see several men staring down at him. They seemed to speak in a language unknown to him.

“Don’t kill me! You don’t want to kill a nice little guy like me, do you?” cried Joán. The locals around him stared confusedly at him, and then at each other, seemingly unable to understand him.

“Where’s this soldier from?” asked one of the men in the local language.

“It seems Achalasia, from what we gathered from his uniform and documents,” replied another.

“What did he do? Why is he here?”

“One of the village girls reported that a strange man in a uniform was saying things to her in a foreign language.”

“Looking for a brothel, maybe? He looks like a pervert.”

“Why are there Achalasian soldiers here?”

“Is he hungry? We should feed him, yes?”

Joán looked up confusedly at his captors, drops of sweat rolling down his forehead onto his bare chest. He couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying.

“What’s that one kid’s name, the one that’s always fixing things?”

“Amari, yes?”

“Yes, bring her here, she is fluent in one of those northeastern languages, yes? Perhaps she can understand him, and we can figure out what to do with him. For the meantime, we can probably find some for him…?”

All of them nod at each other and only two men remain at Joán’s side as the others hurry away. This was even more concerning, thought Joán, as it raised more uncertainties. Maybe they were planning on bringing the device that would be used for his execution. Guillotine? Burned at the stake? Maybe they were bringing their king to rough him up before locking him up in a room and letting him starve to death. He looked up at the glaring sun, whose rays continued to be stronger than ever, despite the fact that it was now likely around 18:00, far too late for the sun to be so intense. His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow which temporarily relieved him of the burning on the tip of his nose and shoulders caused by the sun. He looked up to see a small, scrawny looking kid, with big goggles sitting on the top of their head, accompanied with a bandana. They wore long, thick gloves and had twin braids that seemed to reach their knees. Joán felt his head spin, unsure if it was from confusion or the prolonged exposure to the sun.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Joán’s eyes widened. “You speak Acharic?!” exclaimed Joán.

They stared down at him, their face completely expressionless. “I asked you a question. Are you sure you speak your language?”

Brat. Joán thought to himself, giving them an unamused look as a brief response instead.

Different languages were something rare to come across after the Great Migration had occurred roughly two hundred years ago. Following the Great War, millions of people scattered across the globe in search of safety. At this time, the technology was unfathomable, killing millions of people with just one attack. It was something no one had ever seen before, something that didn’t appear to be possible. It was brutal and horrifying, and since the war had ended, all nations had unanimously agreed to not use or produce such weapons. However, many areas were devastated, and many could not return to the places they once called home. This was met with great resistance, people did not want to share their land with strangers, those who spoke differently, wore different clothing, and had different colored skin. As a result, people grew cold towards each other, blaming each other for what had happened, finding only fault in the other side.

After decades passed and the wounds of war began to heal, the tension slowly started to release as everyone began to live relatively peacefully in unison. Yes, there was still discrimination, judgement, resentment. But people of different backgrounds slowly began to live alongside one another, if only in tolerance. However, with this came a trade-off, a trade in which languages and cultures slowly dissipated, having to conform to the majority in order to survive. As a result, across the world, most people spoke the same language, after a unanimous order by all the governments of every nation to teach the language originating in Achalasia, Acharic. Of course, dialects continued to form and spring up around the globe, but this was only to be expected. However, the Kapuahi Islands were one area of the world that worked hard to retain their original language, often teaching it alongside Acharic.

“Yo, please, just tell your guys to let me go. I was jus’ wanderin’ around an’ I got lost is all. I mean, really! I still got stuff I gotta do, you know? Hey, are you even listening? I got family around these parts too! I mean I know it don’t seem like it, since I got lost and I don’t speak your language and all, but I mean it! Like, we have a vacation home here, kinda! In a sense, anyways! C’mon! You gotta let me go! Please…? I’ll beg! You guys can rough me up a lil’ too! To make sure I don’t do anythin’ ya know? Please let me go!” Joán cried as he suddenly smelled something sweet. “Oh, what’s that…?”

Joán looked up to see one of the villagers holding up a pastry of some sort to his mouth. He opened it and took a bite. “Holy cow! That stuff’s awesome! What is it? Honestly, I don’t think I’d mind staying here! As long as you all don’t mind, haha!”

There was an awkward pause before Amari spoke. “This guy’s a loser,” Amari said to her fellow villagers in their native tongue. “Did he come alone?”

A voice from the nearby bushes rose. “No. I am here with him!” said Malai, heroically, standing bravely with her hands on her hips.

“What the hell are you doing?! This wasn’t the plan at all!!” exclaimed Darius in a hushed voice, before looking over to Zehra and Fernando and seeing that their faces were completely pale.

“Who’s that?” Amari asked Joán.

Joán thought for a moment, trying to calculate what the best thing to say in this situation was. “I don’t know her. Or her weird monkey. That’s a pretty nice monkey, though. Where’d you get a monkey? I want a monkey too, if I’m being honest. What’s its name? Okay, sorry, I lied, I know her. But I don’t know her monkey. Hey Malai~!” he said, waving enthusiastically, Malai reciprocating the same energy with a wide smile.

Amari, who hadn’t shown any emotion this entire time, looked at Joán completely dumbfounded, and then back at Malai, who suddenly had 3 more people behind her. “How–how many more of you are there…?” she asked, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead and unsure if the answer would be of any substance.

“Just us…” said Fernando.

“What are you all doing here? It’s not normal for soldiers to be here, especially not ones from Achalasia,” she hissed, drawing out the country name longer than what could be considered to be innocent.

“We had to retreat, we are temporarily staying here,” said Zehra.

“Retreat? Ha!”

Why was she laughing? It didn’t make any sense to Darius.

“You know, right? What happened?” asked Darius.

Amari looked at them all and scoffed. “Yes, I ‘know.’”

Darius looked at her, confused by the tone she used. In reality, Darius was never good at understanding people, reading them. He had spent most of his time alone growing up, after all. It was a society built on the bettering of a single man bettering mankind. In other words, everyone focused on themselves, thriving to become the strongest, and in the end, they as a whole would become stronger.

Amari then turned to the villagers. “Just release them, it’s not smart of us to get involved in these affairs. I don’t believe they are here to cause trouble,” she said.

“And their weapons? Documents?”

“If they wanted to harm us, they would have already.”

“I suppose you’re correct.”

“Return the belongings of the man to him and let him leave with his crew.”

“Yes, thank you.”

It was then that they heard rumbling beneath their feet, and the buildings around them began to shake. They looked at each other with confusion imbued in their faces, before turning to see looks of horror on Amari’s.

“What was that…?” asked Malai.

“Keilani…” Amari answered with a hiss.

“Who’s Keilani? Is she–” said Joán before a rumbling ten times stronger than the first shook the ground beneath them, causing them to stumble.

“The volcano– it’s about to erupt. We need to leave. Go!” shouted Amari.

“We need to return to base, the rest of our men are there, as well as our ships,” said Zehra.

They all begin to run through the dense jungle, pushing aside overgrown leaves and vines in order to make it back to the ships before Mount Keilani erupted. The sound of panting and heavy breathing accompanied the rustling of vegetation around them and beneath their feet, before a yelp cut through, reaching everyone’s ears. They looked behind them to see Joán, who had tripped on a vine of some sort and had fallen into what looked to be a light mud. Malai rushed to go help Joán back up before he let out a shrill scream.

“No– don’t. Don’t come here. You can’t save me. I won’t make it… I’m… already halfway swallowed up.”

Everyone gave each other confused glances before seeing a sign that read ‘Warning: Quicksand.’ They looked down to see Joán, who had barely sunk into the sand. Malai went and grabbed his arm, easily pulling him out of the quicksand before urging everyone to continue running.

They had finally made it to the base, where they saw their fellow soldiers quickly disassembling tents and shoving belongings into bags.

“We need to leave, now!” shouted Colonel Freya. “Everyone, board the ships!”

And that, they did. As soon as they all got on board, they watched as the villagers took their own boats and sailed away from the island, likely going to one of the sister islands nearby to seek refuge. It was only about three minutes after departing that Mount Keilani blew up, lava rising up into the air. All eyes were focused on the bright splashes of black and red that shot out from the volcano. Something so destructive, was simultaneously somehow beautiful. This is what Darius thought as the ship made its way away from the island. Once the island was far enough to only be a small blob in the distance, everyone looked to the Lieutenant Colonel for information and direction.

“Where are we going now?” asked one of the Captains.

“Will we return to Achalasia?”

Zehra chimed in as well. “Have we heard anything in regards to the position of Toskamiria?”

Everyone turned to look at the colonel in charge, expecting a swift and solid response.

Instead, they got a sigh, and a short statement. “We need time to plan, please be patient as we consult with our warrant officers and generals” said Colonel Freya.

“Damn women. Don’t know why they made one of ‘em a colonel.” one of the higher ups muttered.

Everyone turned to twiddle their thumbs or pick at their nails. What else was there to do but simply wait? They followed orders, and their order was to wait. Thus, it was all they could do.

⬺

“You can’t look so unprepared in front of the soldiers…!” said one of the other captains. “It’s your responsibility to always have a plan, Colonel.”

The Colonel looked away angrily. “Don’t use that tone with me, what would you have done? Give them an order to wipe their asses while I figure out what the hell we are supposed to do in this situation?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t just admit you have no idea what to do and give them no direction.”

“I’d expect our soldiers to be smarter than that.”

“They are hard-wired to serve, to listen, to obey. They need your command.”

“I know! I know, Goddamnit!” shouted the Colonel. “I don’t have any commands right now though. I have no idea what to do, I’m sorry that I didn’t expect a volcano to erupt!”

“Should we return to Achalasia? Have we heard anything from the Leaders?”

“No, not yet. We need to have a better plan. I think we need to go to Seppedaria. I know the western coast has a few markets where we can replace some of our lost goods.”

“It’s practically completely a desert, though. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“The other two options are that we go to Toskamiria unprepared and give them the upper hand, or waste more time going north through Achalasia and wasting more time and resources.”

“...Alright. Seppedaria it is.”

“Meeting adjourned.”

⬺

The sun had completely set now, and the cold ocean breeze was a welcome guest after having spent the past few days in the scorching sun.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” stated Malai simply, standing behind Darius. The reason it lights up is because it’s reflecting the light of the sun, is what I’ve heard. Zehra told me that, once. It’s kinda like how when someone grumpy like you gets a smile on their face after being surrounded by their buddies! Haha, just kidding!”

Darius gave her a small smile as Joán and Fernando came up behind them.

“Did you guys ever hear about that tale with the sun and the moon?” asked Fernando.

“Oh? A bedtime story?” asked Malai.

Fernando nodded with a shy smile and continued. “It’s said there was once a pair of twins who were born, one was born at dusk and one at dawn. They were called the sun and moon. But despite being twins, they looked completely different. They were opposites in several ways, just like the sun and moon.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that sometimes twins look really different from each other…” said Joán, raising a hand to rest on his chin.

Fernando nodded and continued. “One of the twins, however, had very unnatural features. Pure white skin and hair, but reddish-purple eyes. It’s said that she couldn’t see very well, either. People believed she possessed some kind of power, or in the very least, could be used to obtain powers. As a result, she was highly targeted and sought after. One day, the twin’s parents were killed, and the twins were captured. The one with dark skin and hair was sent to live far away on an island, as people feared the twins possessed powers to be able to find each other. The other twin was then auctioned off. People lined up and began to bid. The numbers rose quickly, until a strained voice was heard from the audience. ‘500,000 marks’ she said. The voice came from the local witch doctor, whose face was covered with bandages after the locals splashed her face with acid. No one else was able to top the bid, and everyone grumbled as the witch doctor took the hand of the twin, and took her away to her hut. ‘She’ll do experiments on ya!’ they yelled. ‘She’ll cut ya open and harvest your organs to take ya powers!’ The twin shuddered, but couldn’t do anything but hold the bandaged hand and walk.”

“Poor girl! What happened next?” Malai asked.

“The witchdoctor had then brought her to her hut, which contained many books, bottles, and tools that looked like weapons. The young girl shuddered as she entered, unsure of what would happen to her. But then she was greeted with a warm, bandaged hand that lightly lifted her face. She held up two fingers. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ she asked. The young girl squinted her eyes, and the witch doctor put her hand down. ‘I noticed that. Your eyes are squinting. Is it difficult to see? I’ve never seen such eyes like yours before.’ The young girl shrugged. After all, this was the way she had seen her entire life, she had no reason to think anything was out of the ordinary. The witch doctor nodded, and told her to do whatever she wanted while she fiddled with some things at her desk. A few hours later, she walked up to the young girl and placed her hands on her head, and now she could see everything clearly. ‘You–you’re really a witch, then? Like the way they all called you an evil witch?’ the young girl asked. The witch doctor seemed to think for a moment before responding. ‘Yes.’ The young girl nodded. ‘Well, I think you’re the nicest witch ever!’ The witch doctor looked up with her eyes wide open. ‘Aren’t you afraid of me? Haven’t you heard the stories?’ she asked. The girl shook her head. ‘They all want to hurt me, don’t they? You haven’t hurt me, only done good to me so far. You’ve been kind to me.’ The witch doctor stared at her briefly. ‘You shouldn’t trust people so easily. They will lure you with kindness, you know.’ The young girl smiled warmly. ‘Someone I shouldn’t trust wouldn’t tell me that.’ The witch doctor stared, seemingly expressionless, but beneath her bandages she smiled.”

“Wow… so the witch doctor saved her?” asked Malai.

“She still shouldn’t have trusted her so easily though, right? Isn’t that kinda stupid?” said Joán, putting a finger to his chin.

“I believe it’s a story to represent how the kindness of one person can change the way someone trusts people,” said Fernando.

“What happened to the other twin?” asked Malai.

It was all of a sudden that they heard rustling coming from one of the cargo boxes.

“There must be rats… that’s no good,” said Fernando.

“I wanna see!” exclaimed Malai in excitement. “Don’t hurt it!”

“I’ll take care of this… Don’t you worry!!” shouted Joán, briskly walking towards the box, rolling his sleeves up and pulling out a knife as he did so. He hesitated briefly before opening it, but before he could plunge his knife into whatever was causing the noise, he saw the island girl from earlier. “Uh… eh?”

Chapter 5: Welcome Aboard, Amari!

“You–you’re the–” Joán stuttered, pointing at her.

“My name is Amari,” she said, her expression neutral.

“Yes… Amari… What are you doing here…?” asked Joán, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“You’re from Achalasia, right? You’ll be going up north eventually, then?” Amari asked, ignoring the previous question.

“Er, I guess, probably…?” replied Joán, his eyebrows still arched.

“What’s happening over there, Joán?” shouted Malai from a distance, walking up to analyze what was causing the commotion, before stopping when she saw the young girl peeking her head out of the box. “You!!!” exclaimed Malai.

“My name is Amari,” she repeated.

“You can’t be here, I don’t think, anyways. Not that I have an issue with you…!” said Malai, waving her arms. “Want to pet my monkey?”

Amari hesitated before turning her head. “I needed a ride,” she said matter-of-factly.

“This isn’t a commercial ship!” shouted Joán.

“I know,” Amari said bluntly.

“You… know?” asked Joán, confused.

“Yes, I know. I’m not stupid,” Amari stated, as if it was at all an adequate answer.

“Well now I’m confused!” cried Joán, running his fingers through his hair.

“So what are you doing here?” asked Fernando.

“In case you forgot, a volcano on my island just erupted,” she said, a slight annoyance being heard in her voice.

“Couldn’t you have gotten a ride from one of your own ships?” asked Joán.

“No,” she said, simply.

“Why?” asked Malai.

“They aren’t going north,” she replied, not giving out further information.

“I don’t get it!!!” exclaimed Joán, hitting himself in the head.

“I need to get to Vidmaheks Island,” Amari clarified further.

“Why?” asked Malai.

“Stop asking me all these questions,” she said, a twinge of annoyance laying in her voice.

“You were interrogating me earlier!” cried Joán.

“Because you were an unwelcome guest on my island,” Amari replied bluntly.

“You–!” Joán retorted before being interrupted.

“Just give me a uniform, they’ll never know,” said Amari, shrugging.

“We can’t do that!” cried Malai.

“Yes you can,” replied Amari, neutrally.

“No, we can’t!”

Amari sighed, and then began to look around the ship. “I can name at least 15 things wrong with this ship that need to be fixed immediately or else it will go down before you reach any land.”

“Huh?” everyone exclaimed in unison.

Amari nodded and hummed. “I can fix it of course, assuming you let me ride along with you all.”

“What kind of problems…?” asked Fernando, curiously.

Amari went on to list a bunch of small technical problems with the ship, to which Anton and Dima confirmed that needed to be fixed, and were surprised to see that she had even listed several things they had not yet noticed. As they argued, Sergeant Zehra came over to see what was going on.

“What’s going on here?” her voice boomed as she looked around to assess the situation, noticing the young girl, Amari.

“Your ship needs to be fixed and I am graciously offering to do the honors,” Amari said, with a far more polite tone than she had used with anyone else.

Zehra stared at her briefly before speaking with a hushed voice. “Put on a uniform, you belong to us until you get to wherever it is you need to be. If you do anything, you’re dead.”

“What do you mean? We can’t let her stay! We can’t trust her!” said Darius.

“And send her where, exactly? Her home just had a volcano erupt, it isn’t safe there right now.”

Darius opened his mouth to respond, but instead stayed silent, as it was true that she had no other place to go.

“Thank you. I’ll get started on fixing things up for you all,” said Amari.

⬺

By morning, Amari had already done good on her promise, with the ship appearing to look almost new, save for the areas she could not reach until they reached land.

It was two days later that they reached land and landed in Seppedaria. This landmass was relatively uninhabited, and thus safe. The majority of the land was taken over by the Seppedari Desert, which was extremely hostile, and oftentimes named “The Sand Death.” Colonel Freya was the first to exit the ship, looking around at the desert.

“There are markets there, let us go and recuperate,” her voice boomed.

“Aye!” the soldiers saluted.

Darius got off the ship, feeling unsteady as he did so. It seemed he had just gotten used to the rocking of the waves, and now that he was back on land, he felt as if he was a newborn lamb, unable to stand properly. He looked back at the boat to see Amari, now donning the uniform of Achalasian soldiers, and fixing the outside of the boat, monitored closely by the higher-ranking officials to ensure she did not tamper with the ship. Darius turned to face forward, following the rest of the soldiers into the hot desert.

The market didn’t have a lot, as expected of an area with such little resources. Darius also noticed that the prices were vastly higher than in Achalasia. He wondered how the people here could afford to eat at all. He thought about The Leaders, and how grateful he was to them, as they ensured everyone was able to eat, sleep under a roof, and study what they desired. He smiled to himself, and thanked God and the Leaders for his fortune.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, Dar?” asked Joán, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hm…” hummed Darius. “I was just thinkin’ of how lucky we are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Joán asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Look at how these people live! They don’t have anything… do their leaders not care about them?”

“Ah, well–” Joán paused, seemingly debating what exact words he should use. “They still smile, don’t they?”

“Well, I guess…? What are you getting at?”

“Darius, have you ever wondered–well, nevermind, it’s not important,” Joán looked a bit pale and uncomfortable. “Sometimes, people don’t know how good they have it. But sometimes they don’t know how bad things are. It goes both ways. It’s important to always be watching, no matter where you are. These people here, you might think they are unhappy, but they still find happiness despite their trials. That’s what livin’s about, Darius. No matter what, you have to keep going, finding a reason to smile. Maybe it’s nothin’ more than some good weather, if it’s worth smiling at, it’s worth it to keep going. But you also gotta fight, not just for yourself, but for the ones you love. Live to live, but don’t give up fightin’ when there’s something wrong in the world. It’s like, like, fish that are in the toilet. We’re the fish, and we’re in the toilet. But we keep swimmin’ cos there’s still water, and that means we can keep swimmin’, keep goin’. You know what I mean? You don’t know whether you’ll end up in the sea or at the bottom of a sewer, but either way, if there’s water, that means you can still keep goin’!”

Darius turned his head to look at Joán, surprised by his sudden heartfelt speech, unsure of what triggered it. But his speech didn’t leave his head, and he continued to think about it throughout the night. What did he mean by that? Was he insinuating they might not have had it as good as Darius believed? Sure, they were soldiers, but in exchange they were taken care of, given a reason to keep going, wasn’t that worth something? They were actively making the world a better place, which was the most important part of all. Darius shook his head, feeling guilty that he would even consider thinking ill of the Leaders. He prayed for forgiveness in an alleyway.

⬺

It was soon night, and to Darius’ surprise, it became extremely cold. He had only ever heard tales of the desert being excruciatingly hot, so to feel bumps form on his skin, a prickling feeling spreading across his body with each gust of wind, came as a shock to him. He curled in on himself, hunching his shoulders and gripping his arms tightly, rubbing them in an attempt for the friction to make it warmer. The soldiers had begun to set up tents for the night, some others starting a small fire between the tents.

“Darius!” called Malai. “Over here!”

Darius walked over to Malai who stood near a tent, likely the one he would be sharing with his squad.

“You got goosebumps all over!” Malai said, grabbing his arm. “You cold? Come inside, it’s warm!”

Darius nodded, entering the tent. He saw that Fernando and Joán were already inside, along with Amari who sat alone in the very corner of the tent. Malai was also following closely behind Darius, entering the tent as well and sitting down on a small sleeping bag.

“Man! I’m tired!” said Malai with a yawn, stretching her hands over her head, just barely hitting the top of the tent with her fingertips.

“Tired from what? We didn’t do anything today,” said Darius, looking down at his boots.

“It’s normal to be tired after travelling. It takes a toll on the body, even if it isn’t by foot,” said Fernando.

“Yeah,” agreed Joán. “When I came over here from Treshnia, I slept for the entire day,” said Joán as he laid down on his back.

“Treshnia? Like, from a vacation?” asked Darius.

Joán’s cheeks turned a slight pink as he looked away. “Er, well, not exactly. I’m from there.”

Darius looked perplexed, as this didn’t make any sense. “But you are a soldier in the Achalasian army?”

Joán continued to look away, not making eye contact. “Yeah,” he continued, scratching his head awkwardly. “Guess it doesn’t make much sense, huh?”

Darius opened his mouth to continue asking before Amari suddenly interrupted, all of them being surprised to hear her voice after forgetting she was even in the tent with them at all with how quiet she was. “I’m here too, no? It’s probably a similar situation. It happens a lot in more recent years, recruiting soldiers from abroad, in one way or another.”

Joán looked over to Amari with a guilty expression. “Yeah, I guess you could say it’s something like that.”

“Everyone has their own reasons for having joined,” began Fernando. “I am a father of two beautiful girls and have a wonderful wife waiting for me back home. But before I left to join the military, one of my daughters got very ill, and the other really wanted to go to school. I couldn’t afford either of those things. I was then told that my family could receive free medical treatment and education as long as I enlisted. As much as it hurt to leave them, I knew I had to do it for my girls. I love them more than the world itself. The only thing that keeps me going, is the idea that one day I will return to their smiles,” he said, a sorrowful smile appearing across his face. “They’ve sent me letters, detailing how school is going and how much the medical treatment has helped. Because of that, I do not regret it, because I know it will be worth it in the end,” Fernando continued. Something didn’t seem right, but Darius didn’t press on, as Joán seemed to be a bit upset by the topic, Malai looking away into the distance, seemingly deep in thought on the topic as well.

“Is everything okay…?” asked Darius shyly, unsure if he had said something wrong to upset them.

Malai and Joán looked away, seemingly deep in thought, whereas Amari looked directly at Darius with a seemingly neutral expression, but he could sense that there was frustration behind it as well. Fernando lightly put a hand on Darius’ back.

“Everything’s okay,” Fernando said quietly before looking over to the others with a concerned expression before looking back at Darius with warmness. “Let’s go take a walk, shall we?”

Darius nodded, and they went outside, Darius bringing along a blanket with him, wrapping it around his shoulders, shivering as he left the tent, the wind creeping down through the openings of his clothing, brushing past his skin leaving a trail of goosebumps.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Fernando looked down at Darius warmly, patting his hair. Darius looked up with a saddened expression, his mind running wildly as a result of the previous conversation.

“Darius, it’s okay, really, trust me,” said Fernando. “I can hear your mind whirring. What’s wrong?”

Darius opened his mouth to answer, but found that he didn’t actually know why it was that he felt upset, uncomfortable, unsure.

“Joán said something weird earlier, I didn’t understand what he meant.”

Fernando nodded. “What was it that he said?”

Darius thought back to the conversation, a squeezing feeling in his chest rising as Joán’s words filled his head again. “He said something about how some people don’t know how good they have it, and how some people don’t know how bad. You weren’t there, but it was like he was saying we have it bad. I don’t think he should say things like that, the Leaders do everything they can for us.”

Fernando remained quiet, as if he was unsure of how exactly he should approach Darius with his response.

“I see,” Fernando said, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Darius, I’m an old man now. As much as I grow frustrated with my ability to perform tasks with as much ease as I could when I was younger, I feel that having experienced so much and gaining so much knowledge has been an equal exchange.”

Darius looked up, confused by Fernando’s words. He wasn’t sure whether it was Fernando who had misunderstood him, or if it was he himself who misunderstood Fernando.

“Ah, let me continue, please!” said Fernando with a nervous smile, waving his hands. I have seen many things, Darius, things you wouldn’t ever imagine to be true, because you are young, and you have not seen the world yet. This is what I believe Joán had meant. While he is much younger than I, he is still older than you, and stories from people like him, who have seen things from a different light, are important to listen to, no matter how painful they can be, or how much it changes your viewpoint on something. A field of wheat can be beautiful or boring, depending on how one paints it, and how one looks at it. Does that make sense?”

They had both stopped walking by now, and Darius looked down to kick the sand with his feet before responding. “But…why? Why is he saying all that? I don’t get it. Am I missing something? I don’t understand.”

Fernando put a hand on Darius’ shoulder, turning so that he was fully facing him. “I’m saying, don’t let things you have once learned completely shape the way you see things, as it might not be completely true. I can’t say more than that.” Darius was growing more frustrated, he didn’t understand what Fernando was trying to get at. Fernando, noticing this, continued. “Darius, have you ever felt as though you wanted something more? Something unattainable?”

Darius was caught off guard by this, and his mind began to race with fragments of memories, voices swimming around him.

⬺

“Darius, why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“You said the leaders were ‘scary.’ You don’t think we’re scary, do you?”

“...Sometimes…”

“Why?”

“My mama and papa, they looked very sad when you came to get me.”

“It was only to protect you, Darius. We’d never hurt you, not for no reason. To be honest, I am offended by your words. Sometimes painful things are necessary to do to fix things. Like when you have to put alcohol on a wound, it hurts initially, but it is for good measure, to ensure the wound stays clean and heals properly.”

Darius nodded. “So that’s why we are in Sersaria, right?”

Father Louis paused. “Ah yes, you know about this, Darius?”

“Yes, my mama and papa told me about it, they said a lot of people were getting hurt.”

“But you know why, right? They are savages, truly evil people. We are only there to clean things up, make things better. Once we have control over Sersaria, as well as all of Toskamiria, the world will be a better place, safer. They want to hurt people like us, Darius.” Father Louis paused before continuing. “Would you be angry with me if I put alcohol on your wound to make sure it was clean?”

“...No, of course not. I love you!” Darius said with a large smile.

“Ah, but if you loved me, you would trust me completely, yes? Didn’t you just say I was scary? That the Leaders frightened you? You don’t fully trust someone you fear, right?”

Darius thought deeply before answering, not completely understanding. “Well, when I did something wrong, I was a little bit scared of my mama… but now I know it’s like that, and that you will only be scary when I do something wrong! I’ll be a good boy, I won’t make you angry! I want to be clean! I don’t wanna be dirty anymore! I want to serve the Leaders and make ‘em happy! I wanna make you happy!” said Darius.

Father Louis seemed more than content with this answer. “Good boy, then let’s start, shall we?”

Darius nodded, and a mask was put over his face, and everything went dark.

⬺

Darius began to spiral, and his breaths began to quicken. “No…” said Darius, with a panic, holding his head as if it would spin off at any moment, running into the tent, Fernando running after him, his face painted with worry and guilt.

“What’s wrong, Darius?” asked Malai with concern, swiftly getting up to inspect him.

“We aren’t doing enough! I’m not doing enough!” said Darius with a fear-stricken voice, his hands reaching up to pull his hair.

Malai gripped his wrists in an attempt to prevent him from pulling his hair out. “Calm down, calm down! What’s wrong…?” she said with a soothing voice, noticing Darius’ breathing grow more rapid and unsteady. “Fernando, what happened?”

“It’s not enough!,” Darius repeated, not listening to anyone, beginning to hyperventilate.

Joán approached the both of them, kneeling next to Darius. “Hey buddy, calm down, it’s okay. What’s up?”

Darius pushed Joán away as he attempted to step closer to calm him.

Joán moved his arm back swiftly. “Jeez, okay then! I’ll stay back here. Just breathe then, okay?”

Darius nodded, and attempted to slow his breathing. At first, his breathing was still uneven, but eventually evened out as Malai rubbed circles in his back. As Darius calmed down a bit,

Joán and Malai took him outside, Fernando following, but keeping a small distance.

“Can you tell us what happened?” asked Joán.

Darius shook his head.

“Did you… remember something?” asked Malai, carefully choosing her words.

“Sersaria…” Darius muttered, the grip on his hair starting to lessen, and his muscles starting to relax.

“What?” asked Joán, leaning his head closer towards Darius in an attempt to more clearly hear him.

The look in Darius’ face suddenly changed from panic and fear to anger and determination. “We need to take it back,” replied Darius, eyes wide open. “We can’t let Toskamiria have it, it’s ours, we need to defeat them before they take even more,” he gasped. “We will save the world.”

Joán and Malai stared at him with wide eyes, slowly nodding.

⬺

It was only two weeks later that the next battle took place. They had planned for a few days on the coast of Seppedaria, and then made their way east, directly towards Sersaria.

“Forward!” shouted Colonel Freya, who raised a hand in the air, thousands of soldiers simultaneously moving ahead, leaving behind the higher ranking officers, who remained vigilant, readying themselves to command and lead the Achalasian army.

The soldiers marched in unison like a stampede of buffaloes into the battlefield, gripping tightly onto their weapons. Their faces scowled as they trudged through mud and wet grass.

“Don’t stop! Continue to march forwards! Overwhelm them!” shouted the General from behind, everyone following his order.

They followed the order, marching with passion as they took down every Toskamirian Soldier in their path. They were quickly overwhelmed by the attack. This was completely unlike the previous battle where they were snuck up upon. No, they held the upper hand here, pummelling through bodies with ease. It almost felt unfair, watching how the soldiers held up their guns to fight with an angering passion in their eyes, only to fall dead a second later, the emotions fading and leaving only the husk of their bodies. Their efforts were all for nothing, their lives only having served to feed nutrients to the soon to be hibernating earth.

⬺

“Is there anything new?” President Claude asked, stretching his back as he leaned into the chair.

“You speak as if asking about weather, Mr. President,” replied Roland.

“Is there an issue with that?” asked President Claude with an amused expression.

Roland briefly looked down at the ground, shrugging his shoulders pathetically. “No, not at all. It’s just amusing. You know I would never question our Leader.”

President Claude sighed. “Roland, do you have information? Otherwise I do wish you would scurry away. You do resemble a fattened rat, after all.”

Roland jumped as he scrambled to collect his thoughts. “Ah, yes, sir, it’s all going well, just as planned. I’m sure we will have control of northeastern Sersaria very soon. We’ll be able to start the reform programs in no time.”

“I see. Nevermind those reform programs, I’ve changed my mind, you see,” replied President Claude, bringing the glass of whisky up to his lips.

Roland’s eyes widened as he tilted his head. “Oh? What do you plan on doing instead?”

President Claude smiled. “I have more cost-efficient methods of doing things.”

“You don’t mean…?” Roland gasped.

“Yes, exactly,” replied President Claude, simply, taking another sip of whiskey.

“What about the Doctor?” asked Roland in a hushed manner. ”You know, the deal? What will you do about that?”

“I’m sure our own will do just fine,” replied the President, shrugging.

“Mr. President, they’ll never agree to that!” replied Roland, exasperated.

“They already have, subconsciously. They’ll do anything I ask as long as I tell them they will be heroes of Achalasia, honored servants of the Holy Leaders. Either way, it is only me who has to agree now.”

“But what about all the schools? The money spent on reform and ‘cleaning?’”

“I don’t believe it to be in vain. It’s because of these reforms that we are able to do such things, you see.”

“Yes, sir…”

The President then turned to Erik, who had been silently sitting at the table. “Well, since you’re here, what do you think, Erik? You are going to have to take my place one day after all, why don’t I start letting you make some decisions?”

Erik remained still as his dull eyes just barely shifted to look around. “It isn’t a difficult question, is it? It’s much easier to just get rid of the unprotected interior, and let the exterior decay and fall off. Avoid direct combat and go straight for the people, weaken the morale and motivation of soldiers, and then take them once they’re in a withered state. The only important thing is that they are all exterminated in the end.”

The President smiled. “What a good answer, my boy.”

“Thank you, my Leader,” Erik replied.

“How about some cream cheese danishes?” President Claude asked, smiling at Erik. “I have a sweet tooth today.”

“You always have a sweet tooth,” replied Roland, without thinking.

President Claude laughed. “It’s good for you that I’m in a pleasant mood today, Roland. Be a good little rat and scurry away now!”

“Understood, sir,” Roland said as he turned to walk away before President Claude slammed his drink down on the table.

“Roland!” President Claude exclaimed.

“Yes, sir?”

“Fetch us some cream cheese danishes, will you?” President Claude asked with an innocent smile.

“Of course, sir.”

They watched as Roland turned, going to go grab the pastries for them, before President Claude slowly took a sip of whiskey.

“Erik,” he began. “Have you looked over all those documents?”

“Yes, I have,” he replied, his expression unchanging.

“Are you prepared?” President Claude asked simply, taking another sip of whisky.

“Yes, I’m ready to devote my life to the New World,” he began. “I will do anything it takes. I will follow your rule,” he replied, his eyes a piercing shade of blue.

“Very good,” President Claude replied. “Perhaps one day, you will be worthy of being called my son.”

“My life is only an extension of yours, your will is mine,” Erik replied.

President Claude smiled as Roland sheepishly came in, his hands empty.

“I’m sorry, sir…” Roland began, his face blushing like a schoolboy who had just gotten caught cheating on a test. “There are no pastries at the moment, but the kitchen said they would be willing to prepare you a plate of fine cheeses and sausage…”

President Claude sighed as a vein began to bulge out of his forehead. He set his glass of whiskey on the table gently. “Roland, tell me, do I look like a man who wants a plate of cheese and sausage? I’m a man, not some faggot. Leave my sight, you vacuous rodent! Scurry away now!” he said with a harsh tone.

“Yes sir, my apologies,” Roland said as he bowed his head before turning away, walking to the door before being stopped by the President once more.

“Did I not tell you to scurry away?”

Roland stared at the door hesitantly before placing his hands on the ground, taking the stance of an animal, before scurrying away on all fours.

President Claude chuckled as Roland left the room, taking another swig of whiskey. “You can leave now too.”

Erik nodded, leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him. He rested his back against it, staring down the long corridor in front of him, which remained dark and depressing despite the large chandeliers that stood above his head, and tall windows on opposing walls allowing natural light to flow in. It was then that a soft voice spoke up from beside him.

“Sir Erik, what are you doing?” the old maid spoke. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Erik turned his head slowly to look at her. “No, I feel just fine,” he replied. “We were just discussing what to do in regards to Toskamiria and Sersaria.”

The old maid, Nina, nodded. “Toskamiria was my home a long time ago,” she began, before suddenly waving her hands in front of her face as if to demonstrate she didn’t intend to say that. “O-of course, I no longer associate with it!” she stuttered, trying to amend her mistake. “I do have rather fond memories, however, just with family. My mother would always cook me the most delicious pancakes on cold winter mornings, accompanied by fresh syrup,” she said, a saddened smile appearing across her face. “But things have changed now, of course. I am grateful to be here,” she continued, looking up at Erik before moving backwards. “I suppose I’ve talked your ear off! I will continue on with my work now! My apologies, Erik!” she said before walking away swiftly.

Erik watched her as she walked away, his mouth remaining in a stiff line.

Chapter 6: Battle of the Frozen Lakes and the Sin of a Child

The first thing they noticed was the sound of cannons. Then, the pained cries of soldiers from both sides. They kept going, they had no other choice. They had to continue fighting. It didn’t matter if they died. It didn’t matter if each one of their limbs was blown off one by one. Because it was all for Achalasia. It was all for the leaders.

Darius marched forward, shooting down any Toskamirian soldier he encountered. He watched as opposing soldiers ahead of him fell to the ground, and how his allies fell backwards with the piercing shot of a gun. He couldn’t dwell on it, he had to fight. He didn’t even know where the rest of Troop 18 was. He could no longer hear commands from Sergeant Zehra, nor giggling from Malai, crude jokes from Joán or the kind voice of Fernando. All that he heard now was the voice in his head telling him what he was doing this for. What his role in the world was, his purpose, and how pathetic it would be if he died without fulfilling it. He continued to march.

Once the sound of cannons began to fade, the soldiers crept closer, surrounding the Toskamirian army completely. They continued to snake around them, carefully constricting the other soldiers more and more, before the first shot rang. Voices cried, blood spilled, and bodies fell to the ground.

They had perfectly trapped them. Below them rose the pained cries of fallen soldiers, and the weak, uncertain commands of the generals.

“Forward!” shouted Colonel Freya as everyone began to march, constricting the opposing army even further.

“Further into the city! Kill any runaway soldier you find!” shouted the General.

Colonel Freya swiftly turned to face the General with eyes wide open. “The city? Why the city?! It’s only civilians there!” retorted Colonel Freya.

“You don’t know that, now charge! Soldiers!”

Colonel Freya stood bewildered, staring at the General, but soon following his orders, following at a length behind the lower-ranking soldiers.

Everyone marched further into the city, their throats burning from swallowing dry breaths before another command was given.

“Let there be no survivors! We can’t trust anyone to be left alive! Search their bodies for weapons and loot!” cried the General, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes laced with darkness and anger.

Darius stopped suddenly, as did many other soldiers, before Colonel Freya swiftly opposed the idea.

“Women and children as well? Are you mad? We can’t kill civilians! That makes us savages!”

“We can’t trust them. Forwards! Search every building, every corner and floorboard.”

Zehra paused, watching as the scene unfolded. She hesitantly began to move as the general had commanded, before a voice from behind her stopped her.

“You’re not going to obey that, are you?” asked Malai, her face simultaneously disappointed and horrified that Zehra had begun to follow the command.

Zehra’s breath hitched as she examined Malai’s expression. It felt as if a million knives had been driven into her, a million gunshots tearing her body into pieces. “What else am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Malai raised an eyebrow, waiting for Zehra to continue, and when she realized that Zehra was finished speaking, she scoffed. “Fight it? I mean, seriously? You’re really going to just kill a bunch of civilians?”

Zehra furrowed her eyebrows in frustration. “We can talk about this later. We are in no position right now,” she said, turning to continue marching.

“Talk later once they’re all dead?” Malai’s voice began to grow more agitated. “If it were back then and it was my town that you were storming into, would you have killed me with the utterance of a single command without thinking a second thought?”

Zehra stopped dead in her tracks, not turning around. Her eyes widened and her heart began to race.

“What’s the difference, Zehra?” Malai asked, now yelling from a distance, uncaring of who heard her, of what punishment it would result in.

Meanwhile, Joán and Fernando had also stopped to see what was going on. They gave each other confused glances before Malai began to speak once more.

Zehra was unmoving. Joán and Fernando could barely tell if she was even breathing, for her muscles didn’t even twitch, not even at the sound of gunshots or cannons that rang in the air.

“Silent, now? Who are you, Zehra? Malai yelled, waving her hands to emphasize her anger. “What am I?” she cried, her teeth grinding against each other in an onslaught of emotion.

Zehra remained still before turning slowly. “You’re e–”

BOOM

A cloud of dark black smoke appeared between them as Zehra jumped backwards, avoiding the blast. Joán and Fernando gasped as they began to run towards them, before being dragged away by another superior officer.

“What the hell do y’all think you’re doin’? You’re goin’ the wrong fuckin’ way!” he said, pushing them forwards.

Joán and Fernando looked back in concern as the stampede of soldiers continued to move them forwards.

When the smoke cleared out, the first thing Zehra searched for was Malai. She did not pay attention to the pain in her hip, nor the scraped off flesh on her hands. Her eyes frantically darted around as she looked for Malai in a panic. It was then that she noticed something strange in the grass.

She wobbled over to it to inspect it, before her eyes widened. It was a single arm, and not too far from it was Malai, whose eyes were completely open. She grabbed her arm and began to rush over to her in a panic-stricken manner.

Why did she care? Wasn’t it all for the leaders? Was she not just a machine?

Zehra tenderly grasped Malai, kneeling in the grass, forgetting completely about the battle, the war, the colonels and the generals, the Holy Leaders, and the Holy Church. No, it wasn’t all for them. It was for her. And she had mistakenly allowed her to sit under the Leaders, knowing what they truly were.

“Sergeant, what are you doing?!” shouted Colonel Freya.

Zehra paid no attention to her superior, instead scooping up what remained of Malai into her arms.

“Sergeant!” shouted Colonel Freya once more as she was shoved to the side by Zehra who ran as swiftly as she possibly could back to the base camp. Colonel Freya paused, debating whether she should go back for her, report her, have her hung along with the one she didn’t even quite know was dead or alive.

Instead, she shook her head, and kept moving forward.

⬺

They continued into the city, looking into every building. The town appeared to be nearly deserted, save for the bodies of Toskamirian soldiers that decorated the porches of homes and balconies of apartments. Most buildings were empty, the civilians had all likely fled a while ago. It was one building, seemingly a bakery, that appeared to have a small cry sounding from it. Before he knew it, his legs were trudging through the thick snow that only rose higher as the clouds sent reinforcements of ice down to Earth. He felt his chest tighten as the cries grew, each breath of frost growing more panicked. His cheeks grew more flushed and snowflakes decorated his eyelashes and eyebrows.

Darius soon reached the building, slightly turning the doorknob and pushing it open, letting himself in. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet. He felt an almost unsettling aura within the building, as if there wasn’t something correct with the picture. A cry broke out suddenly, and Darius swiftly turned his head to face the source of the noise. Darius found himself staring at a woman holding her crying child. They both looked tired, pale, and malnourished. Their bones jutted out from beneath their frames, the child, who should appear plump, warm, and red, was instead pale, sickly, and unsightly. Almost as if it were an angel who had fallen, now paying the price for its wrongdoings, its sin. The child turned, fear in its wide-open eyes, staring at Darius, teeth beginning to chatter as it gripped even tighter onto its mother, uncharacteristically bony fingers for a child digging into the now deflated trapezius muscle of its mother.

“Please don’t hurt mama!” it cried. “Mama can’t run! Please don’t hurt mama, she didn’t mean to stay in your way!”

Darius then noticed the crutches that laid nearby the woman who cradled her child, then back at the pair. There were dried tears beneath the tired eyes of the mother, and fresh, wet ones on those of the child. The mother didn’t move, nor speak, and instead laid with a fixed expression that conveyed only hopelessness as she held onto her weeping child. Darius could barely tell whether or not she was even alive at the moment, the only telling sign being the slight movement of her chest rising and falling, moving the child that sat upon her bosom along with it. It seemed that they were forgotten about, mistakenly left behind. Or perhaps it wasn’t a mistake, and that people didn’t want to be burdened with a sick mother and her child. Isn’t it that the most fit to survive should leave behind dead weight? What could they possibly contribute to the wellbeing of society? They were already broken, now useless to the world. There was no reason to burden oneself with a mother who couldn’t even walk for herself and a child who only knew how to weep and grasp onto its mother in fear. They couldn’t fight, they couldn’t work for man, what role could they fill in society? It would be easier to let them rot, they didn’t deserve help, they hadn’t worked for it. And so, that was what they did, and Darius felt his heart quicken and his hands tremble around his gun as he stood still, switching between staring in the eyes of the frightened child and the now soulless eyes of the mother. Guilty sand seeped into his heart as he stood, suddenly feeling heavy and full, gravel in his mouth as he tried to speak.

“I won’t–I won’t do anything. I promise. I–I won’t say–” he stuttered, walking closer to them before a piercing sound caused him to look behind him to see another soldier with his gun pointed towards the mother and child. His eyes widened.

It was then that several more gunshots rang, and Darius opened his eyes to see the mother and child shot dead, blood quickly pooling beneath them.

“What the hell are you doin’, boy?! Didn’t ‘cha hear what the General said? You dumb? C’mon, let’s go, quit dawdlin’ boy!” shouted the slightly older soldier, who didn’t seem to blink twice at what he had just done.

Darius stared at him with wide eyes, before turning back to look at the bloody scene, before shaking his head and following the other soldier. He continued to circle the city, his legs weak and his stomach turned upside down. He decided to search in the outskirts of the town, silently hoping that he would not find any more Toskamirian soldiers, but still appeared to have been looking for them. After all, it was his duty to follow the orders of the Leaders, and if this is what they willed, then it was what he was to do. But today, Darius needed to look at things that were pure, white snow, blue skies, green fern trees. But Darius looked forward and saw none of that, as snow was dyed red with blood and spilled guts, the skies were filled with gray smoke, and the fern trees burned.

“Kiss it!” a man shouted.

Darius turned to see a man forcefully pushing a woman’s head to the ground, beneath her an Achalasian flag.

“I won’t…!” she cried out. “I won't ever kiss a symbol of death and murder!”

The man laughed as his bloody hands wrapped around her, devouring her body like a snake.

Darius turned away as he gagged, not wanting to see more. Nothing was pure. His uniform was stained with the blood of thousands of men. And when he heard a rustling in the forest nearby, he knew that the blood of another was to be added, because he did not have time to question his morals, or what he truly believed, as his sole purpose was to be a pawn, a doll, a robot. Used, played with, manipulated, exploited, controlled, commanded. Used.

He swiftly turned and lunged at the movement in the trees, quickly finding a wounded Toskamirian soldier who had seemingly been shot in the leg. Darius pulled out a knife and pounced at his throat, just barely cutting past the skin of the soldier’s neck before the man tightly grasped Darius’ wrist, pushing it back away from the fragile skin. Darius, caught off guard by the man’s quick reaction, backed up slightly, and to his mistake, the man then overpowered Darius, and flipped them over so that he rested his body weight on Darius, pinning him down, before pulling out his gun, which no longer had ammo, and hitting Darius in the face with it repeatedly, before jamming it into his eye socket. Darius struggled against him, using his other hand to jam his fingers into the wound of the soldier. The soldier cried, and Darius took this opportunity to push the man off him and plunge the knife deep into his neck.

The man fell back, attempting to gasp for air, but all that came was his blood which he continued to choke on. Darius, ignoring the sounds of blood gurgling in the man’s throat, took the soldier’s jacket off, searching for any weapons or ammunition he could use. It was as the man ceased to breathe that Darius found a hidden compartment within the man’s coat. He looked inside it to find two objects, a locket and a journal. He opened the locket, and found a small photo within it, a picture of a man, a woman, and a small child. The man resembled that of the one in the photo, only with far less blood covering his face. Darius grasped onto the locket as he looked through the journal. He wasn’t very good at reading, it wasn’t important after all. The language in which the man wrote was rather strange, but he could still understand parts of it, simple words. It was on the seventh page that only one sentence was written, and one that Darius could very well understand.

The leaves have already turned a bright orange.

Darius looked over to the man, whose eyes were still wide open, however completely dark and void of light, engulfed in the sea of death. His face, which was blurry and nothing more than a pattern before, was suddenly a face, one similar to that of his comrades. An ordinary person who too took note of the first cool breeze of summer, the first leaf that had changed colors. His chest tightened, and he threw the locket far, before standing up on wobbly legs and running. He didn’t know where he was running to. His head had both a constant dull pain reverberating throughout it as well as a piercing torment from the wound in his eye. His breathing grew more ragged and his running slowed as the snow continued to pile, becoming an impenetrable barrier against flimsy legs wearing heavy boots and a hollow body that hadn’t seen a proper meal in days.

I need to kill them.

*Huff*

It needs to be done.

*Pant*

It’s my duty.

*Huff*

I belong to the Leaders

*Uhhgh!*

I am a vessel of those who are Holy.

But even so…

*Gasp*

Why does it feel wro–

*THUD*

Darius collapsed, and was now comforted by the frozen kisses and chilled embrace of the winter snow.

⬺

“It’s all gone as planned, sir,” Roland said as he walked into the private room of President Claude, Erik sitting next to him in a chair, his hands closed in tight fists sitting on his lap.

“The city was taken over?” President Claude asked in response.

“Completely, sir,” Roland replied. “Every building was checked.”

“Excellent,” President Claude replied, breathing in the smoke from his cigar.

“But…” Roland continued hesitantly, looking down at the ground nervously.

“‘But what? Spit it out,” President Claude demanded, arching one eyebrow.

“Y-you see,” Roland stuttered. “Sergeant Zehra seems to be missing after a land mine was triggered suddenly.”

“Oh? The ‘Perfect Woman’ has been defeated? This is a surprising development. That is rather unfortunate…”

“Well,” Roland began. “We aren’t sure yet, sir, no body has been found.”

“Perhaps there is no body to be found,” President Claude chuckled. “Keep a lookout for her, it would be a shame if she was wasted so early on.”

“That’s correct, sir. I’ll be sure to bring you updates as they come,” Roland replied with a nod.

Erik shifted slightly in his seat. “Another one can be made, isn’t that right? It doesn’t matter anymore if we lose her.”

“I suppose you’re correct,” President Claude began. “But they will only be useful to us at the very least twenty years later. That’s far too long. I haven’t heard much from the Doctor as of late, either.”

Erik remained still as he picked a piece of lint off his trousers. “I see,” he replied quietly. “And the Church? Have they made any statements? We are allied with them after all, yes?”

President Claude looked up at Erik, letting out a sigh as he pulled the cigar up to his lips. “The Church has made no statement for they have no right to. They are indebted to us, after all. No one would’ve cared about their stories if it weren’t for us and our power.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it a mutual agreement between the two since both were struggling–ah!” Roland cried out as President Claude rubbed the lit end of the cigar into Roland’s arm.

“Sure, both had their issues as a result of the Great War, but it was my father who truly began to bring about genuine change in this world. It was the Church who needed us more than we needed them,” President Claude replied with a frown.

“But you yourself align your rules to the laws of the Church and the Holy Leaders, don’t you?”

“Of course,” President Claude began. “But that is only me following as the first ruler had done. I myself don’t care much for the laws or the religion itself.”

Erik suddenly perked up, confused by his statement. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Perhaps I did not hear that correctly?”

“I suppose you’re old enough to know now, Erik,” President Claude said. “My father, Sigurd Rautianen, following the Great War, decided to strike a deal with the Church, which was rapidly losing members and control. He had dreams of recreating the ancient world, envying the brilliant minds of Achalasia who created such grand civilizations so many years ago, ruling the world with a single, tightened fist. He began to quickly advance society, but of course, he required help, and began to make deals with the dying Church. After the Great War, many became non-religious, whereas others became much more religious. The Church had lost a lot of power and control, and they wished to regain their power. The group tended to lean extremely conservatively, and wished to return to the old world, just as Rautianen wanted. While Rautiainen did not necessarily have the same idea in mind, he needed allies, and a Church would bring about many very quickly, not to mention those that would remain extremely loyal to their cause. It was then that the Holy Leaders of Achalasia were formed, the union of the State and Church. The Holy Leaders consisted of the current Church Leader, the President of Achalasia, the right-hand men of the President, and the Higher and Lesser Council of the Church. The Church was then funded to make sure to teach the new values and instill it in the younger generation. Luckily, I was trained well as his heir, and took over swiftly. However, I never cared much for religion or its beliefs. Did you think I would, Erik, raising you so closely to it? Of course not. Why would I care for something that will never bring me wealth, prosperity, or power? Something like that, it’s completely useless. Just like the arts, literature, and education, it is completely and utterly useless, designed only for the spread of perverse ideas and the creation of anarchists and communists. The only thing a man needs is to either know how to fight, or know how to rule. A commander never fights, but he is just as important for the army as the soldier. That’s all this world is, power and blood, and I choose power.”

Erik stared down at his knees, watching as small drops of blood fell onto them, leaving small, dark blotches on his navy blue dress pants. “I see. That was very smart for the First Leader to have done. I suppose it is true after all, that religion is the opiate of the masses.”

“Correct,” President Claude said.

“Then,” Erik began. “What was the purpose of raising me under the Church?” he asked, straightening his back as he reached for a tissue, wiping his nose with it. “It wouldn’t have mattered whether I believe it or not in the grand scheme of things. Do you believe I should continue to believe in the Church?”

President Claude smiled. “Erik, you are the heir, the next leader. Isn’t it the right thing to do, to raise you with the purest of beliefs?”

Erik shrugged. “But you, yourself, do not seem to believe in it.”

President Claude leaned back in his chair, sighing. “It is at times like these, that I remember you are still only an eighteen year old boy. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I do not care about who or what you believe in. In fact, I don’t care about what anyone believes in, unless it means they are going against me and my rule. Do you understand? No one truly believes in anything with the purest of intentions. It is only those who are benefitted by the truths of that belief, that confidently say they believe in it. Haven’t you noticed, Erik, how leaders will focus on creating laws and rules that only their people view as important? Take President Graves for example, he himself is… of the other persuasion, yet the people of Hallakuura are strongly against it, for the presence of the Church is strong there. But it doesn’t matter how he feels or what he believes in. Instead, he gets a wife who doesn’t love him and creates a law forbidding sexual immorality, despite taking part in it himself. As a politician, as a ruler, as a king, your own personal beliefs don’t matter, so long as you keep control over your own people. Of course, you notice now how strange it is for me to have raised you so closely to the Church. In reality, it isn’t strange at all, for I am only preparing you to serve the nation. You now have an idea of their ideals, their beliefs, which will allow you to craft and mend your rule around that, to achieve what Sigurd Rautianian died for.”

Erik slowly nodded. “I see. It is completely calculated,” he began as he threw away a tissue. “It is clear to me now, Leader.”

President Claude smirked. “Is it now? Tell me more, Erik.”

Erik stood up, looking out the window, watching as a bird dug its beak into the hardening earth, scouring for its next meal. “I will be the one to achieve the dreams of Sigurd Rautianen as the third heir.”

⬺

“Darius!”

“Darius!”

“We need a medic here!”

“Stay with me, buddy, it’s okay! Are you there?”

“Can you hear me? Does anything hurt?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s all okay, you’re okay.”

“Keep breathing for me? Someone is coming to help.”

“Don’t close your eyes–. Er–”

“Darius, stay with me, please.”

“Medic!”

Darius’ eyes glazed over with confusion and uncertainty before closing, and all the noises that surrounded him grew muffled and unintelligible.

“I need to pray,” said Darius with a hoarse voice, his withered throat pained by the nicks of frost accompanied by the deficiency of saliva produced in his mouth. “I did something wrong.”

Joán looked at him before moving his hair out of his face, attempting to inspect it further, but finding nothing but tears filled with guilt and misery dripping down his frost-bitten cheeks, now a dark crimson from the wintry winds, the remnants of weeping, and a rising fever. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” Joán paused. “We will pray later, okay? For now, stay with me, okay? Until help comes, okay?”

Darius weakly nodded, fat, bulbous tears escaping his now one functioning eye. “Will the Leaders be mad at me? Will God be mad at me?”

Joán’s eyebrows raised concerningly before cradling Darius’ head close to his chest, resting his chin upon his head, and constricting him further with only could be described as a motherly embrace. Their image reflected that of the one Darius had seen earlier, the wounded mother who cradled her child as in an attempt of consolation, as both of them withered away slowly as a result of the weakness of the human body. “No, Darius, no. No one is mad at you. Not the Leaders, certainly not God.” Darius’ sobs began to rapidly increase in intensity at Joán’s simple words, his breaths becoming ragged and uneven.. “Good, let it out. It’s okay, just try and stay with me until help comes, alright?”

Darius felt Joán’s voice flutter above his head as he looked out to the town, watching the flames engulf it, not hearing any screams or cries, for all their throats had already been slashed and shot, as if it were somehow a last act of mercy. He felt a gloved hand move to cover his eyes before it suddenly hesitated, and drew back instead, letting Darius see what sights unfolded in front of him.

“...It’s okay,” said Joán, quietly, resting his hand on Darius’ forehead instead, letting him watch the flames engulf the small town..

Darius nodded, not knowing how long he whined, howled, and weeped before finding his body being manipulated as he was searched all over by medics. His lungs filled with air as his diaphragm constricted to make room.

He thought of blossoming leaves of the spring, how serene it was to see the beautiful earthy green be reborn after frigid, hostile winters. They couldn’t seem to come quickly enough.

⬺

“I’m sorry, Erik,” President Claude said as the tips of his fingertips comfortingly glided across the area of Erik’s neck where the hair was trimmed short. “You understand, don’t you?” he said, as he took his hand away. “You told me yourself, Erik, that you know what your future is. I’m only getting rid of the things that distract you.”

Erik stood still as the body was lowered into the ground. “Yes.”

President Claude smiled as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, digging into the fabric of his black jacket with his fingertips. “Soon, we will possess all of it. We will fix the world soon. Together. To rebuild, it must first be destroyed.”

Erik stood still as dirt was thrown over the casket. “Yes.”

ACT II

Chapter 7: Change

When Darius first woke up, he realized that there was no pain. It was possible that this was all a dream, and everyone was safe, and there was no war. But Darius then realized that he could not see out of the right side, and pulled out a hand from under the covers to touch his face. His right eye was covered by a bandage, and then he heard a faint voice.

“-ius?” The voice grew louder as Darius tried to focus. “Darius? Are you there, buddy?”

Darius looked up at Joán. “Joán?”

Joán looked as if a wave of relief flooded over him, and went to hug Darius tight. “Yes, yes. How do you feel? Do you remember anything?”

Remember?

Darius felt a wave of nausea suddenly overwhelm him. “I’m going to throw up,” Darius said in a gasp, heart rate rising rapidly in fear.

Joán looked extremely concerned, but quickly pushed it away to find something for Darius to relieve himself in.

“Uh–uh… in my hands, quick!”

Darius vomited. Luckily it was mostly bile.

“Eugh…” said Joán, still cusping his hands together and holding the sick.

“I’m sorry, Joán,” Darius said, looking down.

Joán, quickly noticing this, immediately went to console him. “Hey, hey, it’s …okay! It’s just a little throw up! We’ve all seen worse. I’m here, it’s okay. I heard the nurse say she gave you somethin’ called ‘more feen’ and said it’ll make ya feel a bit sick. Give me a moment, I’ll clean this up,” he said with a nervous smile, trying his best not to cringe at the liquid slowly seeping into the crevices between his fingers.

Darius silently watched as Joán helped him into a chair and then went to change the sheets, humming as he did so. After he was done cleaning, he carried Darius back into the cot.

“...Thank you,” said Darius, averting his gaze from Joán’s.

Joán smiled and nodded, petting his hair, moving it out of his face. Darius looked up, confused at the act of affection, but didn’t dwell on it, for he was in pain, shock, and it was the sole piece of comfort he had felt in days. He leaned into the touch, sighing as he did so.

“What… happened? Where is everyone?” asked Darius, looking down at his bandaged arms.

Joán looked down sadly. He was only slightly injured. Joán only had surface level injuries that were kept under control easily with a few stitches and bandages.

“Fernando got it pretty bad, but he’s stable. A few bullets in his arm, I think. Amari’s safe, she didn’t fight or anything, she doesn’t have much of an obligation to, anyway. I did see her looking around and tending to our soldiers, however. She was the first to find Fernando and bring him here,” he paused, looking away from Darius’ gaze before continuing. “I… don’t know where Malai and Zehra are. But… I don’t think… it’s good…” he said slowly, as if to let Darius process the information.

“Not… good?” he asked, his pupils shrinking as his mouth went dry, his chest tightening as his heart sank into his stomach.

“They… Well, there was a pretty big explosion… and, well, they were pretty close to it… Darius,” tears welled up in Joán’s eyes before he shook his head. “Darius, listen to me. Whatever has happened to them, we need to keep our heads high. It’s a part of our job here, it’s like you said, right?” he said with a pained expression, his teeth grinding against each other to prevent tears from falling.

“A part…of…the job…”

Joán nodded slowly, bowing his head, letting a few tears escape his lacrimal glands.

“Joán,” Darius began, situating himself to be sitting upright. “Once, you told me that oftentimes things weren’t as they seemed. You told me to always be open to learning new things, because there’s always something I don’t know. I didn’t understand at the time, in fact, I prayed to God to forgive you for saying such things, and I prayed for him to forgive me for listening. But I think I understand, now,” he said, reaching towards his uniform and rustling through it, trying to find the journal that he pocketed from the soldier, but finding that it wasn’t there.

Joán looked at him with a surprised expression. “What’s this, Darius? What are you looking for?” Joán stared at Darius as he continued to rummage through his uniform, seemingly becoming more panicked as his pockets came up empty.

“A journal from a soldier I killed. I had it in my pocket… Do you think I dropped it? There… was a locket too, a picture of him and his family, but I had thrown that far away into the snow. He had a child. I took someone’s husband away, someone’s father. I never thought about Toskamiria or the Toskamirians like that. I saw them as vermin, something to be extinguished. It’s what I had been told my entire life. My role in this world was to simply be an exterminator, ridding the world of pests. But, when I opened the locket, the reality of what I had done, what I’ve been doing… it suddenly felt wrong. I’m a murderer, a sinner, not worthy of the grace of God nor humanity. Because, I’m no longer human. Just a robot, carrying out the actions of the engineer. I saw a young child and their mother earlier, too. Hiding away in the corner of a bakery. They had been abandoned, it seems. The mother couldn’t walk, so the child stayed, unable to do anything but wither away alongside their blood. I was weak, I told them I wouldn’t do anything. I told them I wouldn’t say anything, and that they would be safe. As I saw the little child’s eyes soften, a gunshot sounded behind me, and blood pooled beneath the both of them. Its eyes were still open, still having to stare at me as the light in their souls went out. Their last image was of a sinner who was at fault for their suffering, their pain, their death. I don’t know if they were still there when the village was set to fire, burned beyond recognition. I only hope they had escaped by then, flying free in the skies above, away from the evil works of man. Away from sinners such as I, who let all this happen. I had always feared the idea of hell, without realizing it is what I have unleashed on so many innocent lives already. How… Can it be right? How can it be right to do such things to people? I don’t know what they’ve done, maybe they were the most sinful people in the world. Yet, it felt wrong, to look into the eyes of a Toskamirian mother and child and to say that they were only pure evil, needing to be extinguished, removed. Is that what they think of us? Maybe the only real sin is mine… I’m…disgusting…” said Darius before being interrupted by Joán.

“You can’t place all the blame on yourself, Darius!” Joán shouted, putting a hand on each of Darius’ shoulders and maneuvering them so that Darius turned to look Joán in the eye. “The evil you speak of sits above us. They play with us, manipulate us like dolls. You didn’t know, Darius. You only knew what you have been told your entire life. It’s not your fault that you didn’t know anything else, when no one else was there to tell you. You couldn’t do anything, Darius. You tried, and it didn’t work. Let this not stop you, but fuel you. Do you want to make things right? Then do it. Do it despite the works of others, do it despite the sinful nature of the world, of man.”

Darius stared at Joán’s now red face, full of emotions, before slowly nodding. “Why… Didn't you tell me?” he asked, looking down at his arms.

Joán sighed. “Well, first of all, I’m not allowed to,” he said with a dry chuckle. “Secondly, would you have believed me, Darius?”

Darius knitted his eyebrows, unsure of what Joán meant by the question. “Of course I would, if you told me all of that!”

“Ah, but didn’t I?” said Joán plainly with a smile.

Darius raised an eyebrow, before realizing, letting a breathy sigh escape his mouth before guilty putting his head back down, his chin touching his chest. “We need to tell people. We can’t let people go on without knowing… who I was… it was because I didn’t know…”

Joán smiled softly. “You want to play the hero, Darius? You wanna save the world?”

Darius’ face heated up as he looked away in embarrassment, feeling shy for his childlike ambition.

Joán chuckled, ruffling his hair. “That’s good enough a reason for me,” he said as Darius looked up with a sparkle in his eyes. “You should rest more,” said Joán as he pet Darius’ hair with care, as if to lull him back to sleep, humming a sweet tune. Joán looked at Darius with a melancholy affection, smoothly gliding his thumb over his forehead, as if he were a mother consoling her sick child. He chuckled to himself, thinking to himself, just how much he’s changed. His mind wandered back home, in Treshnia, and found himself yearning to return more than ever, but waved these thoughts away silently, knowing that it wasn’t time yet. He didn’t know if there would be a time. There was only now, and he knew that. He knew what he needed to do at this moment, and that was enough.

⬺

When Darius had been overtaken by physical and mental exhaust once again, Joán went to go find Amari and Fernando. When he entered the room in which Fernando was situated, he saw Amari sitting next to him, tinkering with a gadget of sorts.

“Hey, how ya feelin’?” asked Joán, taking a seat next to Fernando.

“Much better, they said they don’t think I’ll be needing to wear a cast or anything of the sort. Only to disinfect every day or so,” said Fernando with a shy smile.

Joán smiled in return. “That’s good,” he said, pausing awkwardly, unsure of how he should bring up the matter of the diary. “Er, uh, listen, has anyone said anything about some sorta’ journal? I’m looking for one,” said Joán, choosing his words carefully.

“Journal? No, I don’t believe so,” responded Fernando, raising a single eyebrow as he did so.

“Why d’ya need one?” asked Amari, focusing her attention away from her project for only a brief moment.

“I, er, seem to have lost it,” Joán said, not giving away exact details, as to not let everyone else in the room hear.

Fernando put a hand to his chin. “I’m not sure what you mean, can you…explain more?”

Joán looked away before subtly shaking his head. “All I can say is…I knew where it was up until after we arrived here.”

“...I see.”

Chapter 8: The Perfect Woman

“Zehra, how nice it is to see you, my dear sister,” said the tall man, who had thinning black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and wore small, rectangular glasses that sat at the tip of his nose. He dismissed his pilot, who had been standing behind them, listening attentively. “What brings your presence?”

“My…soldier. She needs critical care. Treat her.”

“Demanding, are we? Have you lost your manners since becoming a Sergeant?” the man chuckled.

Zehra glared at him in response. “Please, help, thank you,” she said, emphasizing the ‘please.’ “And thank you.”

“Yes, yes, that’s much more like it. Be nice to your big brother if you want something, this is my time being used, after all,” he said with a malicious smirk, receiving a roll of the eyes from Zehra in response.

The man, named Dr. Emir, was Zehra’s, in an abnormal way, older brother. They shared only a fraction of blood that typical siblings do, as Zehra was somewhat brought about into the world differently. Their father, Dr. Aslan was a world-renowned scientist, who particularly focused on his studies and experiments on genetics. He often utilized more well-studied gene-editing techniques as well as radiation to alter genes and gene expression. He had several projects in which he worked on, one of which was to create a ‘perfect human.’ Dr. Emir was his biological son, who ultimately served as his own personal assistant, perfectly designed and functioning through his upbringing. However, Zehra was somewhat of a different case. Dr. Aslan already knew how people could be molded to a certain shape through nurturing, he wanted to instead, change their nature. He wanted to see if he could create a human that was completely ‘perfect’ in the sense of their coding, their wiring, their DNA. There were many attempts, some using animals, some using plants, and later on, humans. His most successful creation was that of Zehra, whose DNA had been changed and edited from every step, egg, sperm, as a fetus, and post-birth. It came as no surprise, later on, knowing that the experiment had been successful, that Zehra was going to be important in the world, and with her superior physical nature, gifted to her by her father’s infatuation with roleplaying as God, would make an excellent leader for the armies of Achalasia. She quickly rose through the ranks, her intelligence and physical fitness being significantly higher than that of the average person. She soon became known as ‘The Perfect Woman.’ Calm, strong, intelligent, and beautiful.

Zehra, however, did not let others know of this. She was ashamed of her past, of her upbringing. Everything she had earned, became, was not a result of her work, but rather genetically programmed into her. She was nothing more than a robot with an excellent coding system. The nickname of ‘The Perfect Woman’ often irritated her, as she knew for certain she could not be referred to as ‘The Perfect Woman,’ as she was barely a human, let alone a woman to begin with. In fact, it was ironic, as her chromosomes actually had an abnormality, where normally it would dictate whether one was biologically of either the male or female sex, but Zehra appeared to have ones that did not fit into the category of XX or XY, despite the fact that she presented physically as female in every sense. With this information, it was not surprising that her physical abilities outperformed most of her biologically female peers. Though, she could not be called a man either, as she most certainly did not fit into that category. How ironic it was, that the ‘Perfect Woman’ was not in fact, a biologically ‘valid’ woman.

As Dr. Emir worked, Zehra watched intently, grasping at her own arm which had been slightly injured.

“Are you also hurt?” he asked, not looking away from his work.

“Only a bit.”

“‘The Perfect Woman’ getting injured? Color me surprised,” he said, giggling mischievously to himself, knowing that Zehra would be upset with him for using the nickname.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Only kidding, dearest sister,” he laughed. “I’ll call my assistant to look at you, yes?”

Zehra nodded as Dr. Emir continued to work intently, only stopping for a moment to call his assistant to the room. It was only a few short moments after that a knock sounded from behind the door.

“Come in, Dr. Leonard,” Dr. Emir said, not looking away from his work.

A man with auburn hair entered the room. He had fluffy hair that accompanied his large moustache that framed his face well.

“What did you need, sir?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yes, yes, come, I have a patient for you to look at,” Dr. Emir said, summoning him with his hand. “Could you look at this one over here?’ he said, pointing at Zehra with a nick of his head.

“Yes, of course, sir,” Dr. Leonard said before escorting Zehra to another room.

⬺

Luckily, it was only minor injuries that were on Zehra, and Dr. Leonard was able to swiftly patch it up with only disinfectants, a few stitches, and a wrapping. They both returned to the room, and Dr. Leonard asked if there was anything else that Dr. Emir needed, to which he responded with a shake of his head, thanking Dr. Leonard and allowing him to continue with whatever it was he was previously doing. Zehra sat down, observing her brother’s precise movements. They hadn’t always gotten along, after all, there was a large ten years between them. But Zehra had always been comforted by the fact that she could come to her brother when the circumstances were dire. She sighed, putting her head into her hands.

“This one,” her brother said suddenly. “Is she important? Why did you come alone?”

Zehra looked up, staring at her brother, and then at Malai. “...Yes, she’s important.”

Her brother smirked in response, the lines near his eyes creasing. No other words needed to be said.

⬺

The first thing Malai noticed when she started to regain consciousness was the smell of disinfectant. She never did like that smell, neither did she like hospitals in general. They always smelled like death and sorrow.

The second thing Malai noticed was a tearful look in Zehra’s eyes, who sat by her side.

Malai smiled gently. “What’s with that look, Zehra? Don’t look so sad.”

The third thing she noticed was Hamud sitting contently in Zehra’s lap.

A large tear escaped the ducts of Zehra’s icy blue eyes. “I…” she paused. “Never want to see you like that again.”

Malai contemplated what she should say next before attempting to reach Zehra’s face with her arm to caress it gently in an act of soothing her, before quickly realizing that it felt heavy and unnatural. She looked down, and suddenly remembered everything, and started gagging, but nothing came out. Her mind spiraled as it attempted to come to terms with a new reality, one she was unprepared for, one she never quite imagined. She wasn’t sure if it would be better if she had moved her arm to find there wasn’t one there at all.

“...It… how…? And…” Malai stuttered, unable to express her thoughts, unable to think clearly in general. Her mind was fogged with blurs of dead soldiers, blood staining the fresh blanket of snow, the cries of Zehra, the sound of the cannon before everything went dark.

“I… hope you will forgive me,” said Zehra, looking down, avoiding Malai’s gaze.

“Forgive you?” Malai asked, more concerned than confused.

Zehra straightened her back as she sighed, suddenly slumping over, placing her face in her hands. “It’s my doing… that you’re here… that you got hurt.”

Malai was silent as she remembered that day.

⬺

It was only two years ago that Achalasia and Toskamiria were in a smaller-scale war in the region of Sersaria, fighting over the ownership of the territory. It was a cold night in December that the soldiers had been allowed to take a small break within the local town. Most soldiers had made a beeline straight to the pubs, others to the brothels, hoping to lay with a warm body before picking their guns up again and continuing to fight.

Zehra wasn’t particularly interested in participating in either of these activities, but it was starting to rain and the night only grew darker. She instead decided on entering a secluded building near the forest, hoping she would be able to rest for the night there. What had drawn her to it, she didn’t know. Either way, it was law that soldiers could enter any building and do as they wished. It didn’t appear to have any signs, and she began to wonder if this was simply a shelter for civilians. She gently pushed the door, the sound of creaking wood filling the silent air.

What she first noticed was the smell of cigarettes, booze, and sweat. As she looked around, it was clear that this was another brothel or club of some sort. She watched silently as men threw money at withering bodies of young women and men, hollow from malnourishment. The famine had hit hard. It was really only those in positions of power and the military that got much food at all. It was too expensive, after all. No one, not even doctors or lawyers could afford food anymore. The military was lucky enough to receive a good meal a day, as to maintain strength to fight their battles. Her head grew fuzzy as the aroma of different smokes, perfumes, and bodily scents filled her nostrils. She walked in further, observing the people around her. On the small stage stood three girls and a boy, all scantily clad, only wearing undergarments or even less. As she watched, she noticed one of the performers glancing at her. She was small, concerningly so. The bones of her hip jutted out, and the bumps of her ribs, sternum, and spine were clearly defined. Her hair was tied back into two twin tails, giving off a more child-like appearance that would appeal to sickly older men. Zehra continued to stare, unable to take her eyes off her, despite her awkward movements, her darting eyes, and her general body language signaling that she did not at all wish to be there. The girl soon noticed her excessive staring, and strode towards her.

“I don’t usually see a lot of women in the audience…You’re very beautiful” she said with a whisper, close to Zehra’s ear.

Zehra blushed at the implication, and was quick to deny such accusations. “You misunderstand me. I didn’t mean to come here, I thought this was a sleeping area.”

“Hmm…” she hummed. “But you stayed?” asked the girl, letting her eyelids fall, only a sliver of her light brown eyes being visible in the flickering lights of the club.

Zehra looked away shyly, not saying anything, falling victim to the girl’s gaze.

“What will it be? It’ll cost you, of course. You soldiers might be able to sleep in our homes at your will, but you still need to pay for other services,” she said with the shrug of her shoulders.

Zehra shook her head almost dramatically. “That’s not what I want.”

“Oh? So what is it you want?” The girl asked, moving back slightly, putting her hands on her bony hips.

Zehra stared at her blankly before speaking. “What’s your name?”

The girl looked at her, confused. “You’re interrupting my performance with your questions. I’m losing money because of you, you know,” she said jokingly, yet with eyes filled with a melancholy anger, one that wasn’t passionate, but rather old, drawn out, yet undying.

“I–” Zehra stuttered before being interrupted.

“If you aren’t going to pay, I don’t have any reason to give you any more of my time than I already have,” the girl said before moving away back towards the stage before Zehra grabbed onto her wrist tightly.

“I’ll pay,” Zehra said with a gasp.

The girl smirked, hopped down from the stage, and grabbed her hand, pulling her away into a private room.

⬺

The room was small, it had only a bed, bedside table which held a small candle, and a small desk with a chair that appeared to have only a singular book sitting on top of it. Zehra wondered if this was her personal room, or if it simply belonged to all the performers. Zehra’s thoughts were cut when the girl began to speak.

“Fourty dollars for thirty minutes, is this still okay with you? I think that’s a pretty good deal if I say so myself!” she said with a grin.

Zehra nodded.

“Good. What would you like to do?” she asked as she stripped off the little clothing she had on.

Zehra tried not to notice how the darkness of the room mixed with the low light of the candle accentuated her sharp bones. “No… not that. I want to know your name.”

The girl paused to look at Zehra, confused. “Are you a freak of some sort? Is this a fetish? Jeez… I didn’t really expect that from you…” she said innocently, putting a finger to her chin.

Zehra paused. “....Yes?”

The girl chuckled at that. “It’s Malai. Now, what would you like to do? I don’t have much experience with women, you’ll have to forgive me…”

Malai.

Malai.

Zehra thought to herself, mouthing the name as she did so, taking note of the way her tongue felt as it rolled to form the second syllable of her name. “I already said, I’m not interested in that,” said Zehra, after strangely mumbling Malai’s name.

Malai seemed to grow slightly irritated, with a hint of concern also rising in her fragile chest. “So what do you want, exactly?” she asked, staring up at Zehra with her brown eyes now wide, and her eyebrows knitted closely together. “Are all lesbians like this?”

“You– I mean–” Zehra fumbled over her words. She wasn’t even sure why she was here, why she was spending the little money she had on a prostitute. “Join the military, my squad.”

Malai looked up dumbfoundedly, a profound sadness in her eyes being amplified by the low light of the candle. Zehra hoped to forget those eyes.

“Military? Are you joking?” she spat out in a voice laced with offense and confusion as she dramatically took a step back.

“...No.”

“...Do you always come to brothels to recruit whores into the military…?”

“...No.”

Malai scoffed. “What is someone like me supposed to do in the military anyway? I’m not interested in being a barrack bunny. You know I only do this to survive, right? Or is it that you want me as your dog? Your personal slave? I’m not interested. At least here I don’t contribute to sending thousands of innocent

“No! That’s not why–!” Zehra raised her voice as she trapped Malai against a wall. Zehra looked down at Malai with an expression mixed with anger and sadness, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm down. “That’s not it, I want to get you out of here. I sensed it while you were up there, you don’t want this life.”

“Out of here? Ha! Do you pity me? Do you want to play savior now that you feel a little guilty about what it is you do? Thanks, but you can repent at a church. I’m not looking to worship anyone right now, especially not a puppet of this damned government that allows its people to starve and die of diseases in the streets like dogs.”

Zehra paused, unable to form a response, instead staring deeply into Malai’s eyes, which were faded from the world around her, but still maintaining a small spark.

“You know, it doesn’t matter what I say anyways, right? Look at me, you can easily overpower me, slit my throat, drag me around, tie me up–”

Zehra interrupted her. “I don’t want to do any of that,” she said before going on. “Listen, you’ll still be controlled, manipulated. You still won’t belong to yourself. But…” she paused, gauging Malai’s reaction before continuing. She was looking down, appearing to be listening intently to what Zehra was saying. “You’ll be fed. Not much, but you’ll be fed. You’ll be able to see doctors, get medicine. Sometimes they let you learn a few things.”

Zehra looked down to see tears falling down Malai’s hollow cheeks and her teeth gritting, trying to prevent more tears from escaping.

“You… your thirty minutes are up,” said Malai, her knuckles turning white from the tension in which she clenched her fists, pressing her long, brittle nails into her skin.

Zehra knotted her eyebrows. “I’ll pay for another thirty, then.”

Malai looked up at Zehra with wide eyes, tears nearly daring to fall, sitting on the brim, just above her bottom eyelashes. She clenched her fists harder, before gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight. “You’re really weird. And stupid. And holy moly! Those things are huge!”

Zehra looked down pensively, watching how Malai’s skin stretched around her knuckles. “...I know.”

Malai kept her eyes shut, avoiding Zehra’s gaze. “Why are you doing this?” Malai shook her head as she said it, as if she already rejected any possible answer.

Zehra sighed, but did not answer.

After a brief moment of silence, Malai opened her eyes, however, still averting Zehra’s gaze. “That’s not an answer.”

Zehra stood still, not daring to move. She didn’t have an answer. She knew that. She couldn’t lie, either. If she could lie, that would mean she had any sort of possible explanation for her actions. But she didn’t, she didn’t know why she was doing this. Fate was something Zehra never believed in. But she knew she couldn’t leave without Malai. So instead, she asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

Malai looked at her with knitted eyebrows, confused by the sudden switch in topics. “Fate?” she asked, Zehra nodding in response. Malai’s expression went blank as she thought to herself. Did she believe in fate? She never gave it much thought, after all, she only did anything in the name of survival. The closest she had to a hobby was watching animals graze on rotted fruit and carcasses of animals. She, just like a small rat or cricket, was at the bottom of the food chain. She didn’t want to give up, be eaten, swallowed whole and dissolved by the acid of the stomach. But, being at the bottom meant those above her wanted a taste. So she played the game, using their wretched desires against them. You’re still young, people will line up for you. You won’t get hurt. You’re so small and cute, they like that. You should tie your hair in twin tails, it makes you more child-like. You have those foreign traits that are so sought-after. One day you won’t be so desirable, you should work hard now. Despite the unfair cards she had been handed by the world, she wanted to survive. So she kept going. She did not know why, and could have given up a long time ago, saving herself the pain she had gone through. Yet, she was relentless. Perhaps, this meeting was one of fate, and that was why she had always kept going. “Do you believe it is fate that we met? Do you believe there is more for us than this, this current moment in time?” she asked, looking up at Zehra with wide eyes.

Zehra stood still. “I never believed in fate,” she said, pausing briefly and taking a deep breath before going on, knitting her eyebrows together solemnly. “But I don’t know how else to describe this interaction, this meeting, this… There is something about you, I’ve never felt it before. Perhaps, it is just that I am a fool, mad from watching bodies fall to the ground in a blaze of fire, bright blood coloring the ground beneath them. Perhaps, I want to believe there is something other than war and death in this life. I have always been one to only look at the pure and solid truth. I am no fan of theories. However, I’m fascinated by you, and yet I do not know why. I want to know everything about you and tell you everything about myself, and it still wouldn’t be enough,” Zehra said, her voice straining, as if she is frustrated with herself.

Malai stood still for a while, silently observing Zehra’s expression. “Why me? Am I different from other whores or something?”

“Please,” Zehra said before cupping her cheek, her much larger hand engulfing her face, and wiping a tear away. Malai shuddered at the sudden act of affection, lacking the cruelty and malice that typically took place in these appointments. “Leave this here, come with me. Indulge in my first human desire…”

“What are you getting out of this?” asked Malai, placing a hand on top of Zehra’s, tilting her head curiously.

Zehra tilted her head down slightly. “A scolding for bringing in random, untrained civilians off the street into the military.”

Malai shut her eyes, leaning into the touch. “...So you really are stupid?”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Zehra replied, softly rubbing her thumb against Malai’s cheek.

Malai looked down and turned to sit on the bed, lifting up the pillow which revealed a knife under it. “Then…” Malai said before gripping the knife in one hand and her hair in the other. She cut one of the twin tails off , leaving her hair much shorter on one side, with chopped ends beginning to curl up in a new formation. “Cut the other one,” she commanded, holding the knife out by its blade, offering the handle, her hands now slightly shaking.

Zehra nodded, taking the blade as she let out a shaky breath using the other hand to gently lift the other ponytail above Malai’s neck, so that it wouldn’t accidentally nick her skin before cutting it off in one swift motion with the blade.

“And…? What do I call you now? Captain? Commander?” she asked, first looking down at the pile of hair, then up at Zehra.

Zehra paused before answering. “Zehra. Just Zehra.”

⬺

“It’s not your fault,” said Malai, with a soft and rather melancholy smile.

“You would’ve never gotten hurt,” replied Zehra, lifting her head out of her hands to look at Malai.

“I would’ve rotted away as a worthless whore if you hadn’t found me,” said Malai. “I think we both knew… that this was the lesser pain of two lives. At least here, I am promised with death.”

“Malai–”

Malai interrupted with a gasp. “My boobs… are gone…”

Zehra looked down. “They needed skin grafts for the burns. It was one of the easiest places to take from.”

Malai nodded silently. “Am I even a woman anymore? Isn’t that the one thing we get?”

Zehra remained motionless and contemplated before responding. “You’re the perfect woman, Malai.”

Malai looked up at Zehra with a blush. Zehra had always been named ‘The Perfect Woman’ as she was ultimately a genetically modified human to function as the perfect soldier. Malai knew Zehra knew of this nickname that had been bestowed onto her. Hearing the title used to describe the brave and beautiful Sergeant Zehra and it being used on Malai made her eyes swell with tears, and years of pain came tumbling out of her warm brown eyes in the form of salty seawater tears.

“You’re the perfect woman, Malai. Not me,” she repeated, before lowering her voice to a hush and continuing. “...Would it make it feel better if I–” Zehra said, looking down at her own chest before being interrupted.

“No. Thank you, Zehra, that’s okay,” Malai answered, quickly cutting her off, a faint blush forming across her cheeks as she imagined the scenario.

Zehra nodded, and Malai looked around the room they were in. It appeared to be a well-maintained hospital, one that likely had the money to purchase new tools and upgraded equipment. This wasn’t the case for most general hospitals.

“Where are we?” asked Malai, continuing to look around the room curiously.

“Physician’s Island,” said Zehra, simply.

“Ah–uh, where’s that…?” asked Malai, with a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

“An island off the western coast of Achalasia,” replied Zehra.

“Eh??! How did we get here? Surely not by boat?” Malai exclaimed in surprise.

“I demanded a helicopter bring you here to be treated,” said Zehra, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How– I don’t deserve this special treatment, others got injured, too. How will we even afford this? The military can barely afford bread at this point. What about other soldiers? Surely there are those who need more treatment than me?” replied Malai, her eyes wide and eyebrows knitted in concern and a slight frustration.

“I have connections,” Zehra said, moving her gaze elsewhere.

Malai straightened her back perking up at the statement. “Connections? What connections?” Malai asked curiously.

Zehra shrugged. “I have a brother. Kind of.”

“Brother? You’ve never mentioned a brother,” Malai replied, surprised.

Zehra sighed. “It’s a complicated situation.”

“Oh.” Malai said, looking back down to look at her robotic hand. She didn’t know when she would get used to it. She didn’t know if she would get used to it.

“I have things to trade with him, however, so it should be fine,” said Zehra.

“Like what? He only helps you when you can return the favor?”

“I stole a few of the local plants in the Kapuahi islands.

“Why’s he want that?”

“I don’t know. Experiments?”

“Why didn’t he get it himself?”

“He doesn’t go outside,’ said Zehra, shrugging.

“Oh,” she pondered this. “So, he gets a whole island to himself but doesn’t go outside?”

“Yes, he’s…strange,” she said, Malai giggling in response.

“I suppose strange is good when it comes to science, yes?” she giggled, Zehra nodding slowly in response.

They both sat in silence for a few moments before Malai brought up the burning question. “Where are the others…?”

“...I don’t know,” Zehra said hesitantly.

“You…don’t know?” asked Malai, knitting her eyebrows together in concern, receiving only a shy nod of the head from Zehra, confirming her statement.

“We need to go back, we need to find them…!” Malai exclaimed, growing more and more panicked.

“We can’t, you’re injured,” said Zehra, with a voice that was suddenly loud and clear, almost as if it was a command.

Malai frowned. “It doesn’t matter, Zehra! We can’t just

“It does,” Zehra stood, a terrifying expression taking over her face. “It does matter. I never want to feel like this again. I should have never…”

Malai cut her off. “You’ll feel this again, and again, and again, for so long as I am here with you. You can make it something beautiful, or you can make it something filled with sorrow. You remember that day, don’t you? Neither of us believed in fate, but now, it has tied us together, whether we accept it or not. Our lives are braided together now, and you can’t escape that. This is our price to pay in this world, ” Malai said, placing a hand on Zehra’s heart, looking up at her with a stern look.

Zehra looked up to look into Malai's eyes, and slowly nodded. “Then… I have my decision.”

Chapter 9: Reunion

Emir had graciously offered Malai and Zehra a ride back to Hallakuura using his private plane. Of course, he did not know how to operate it, and was quite busy, so he entrusted his pilot to bring them there. The flight back was nothing special, and they had both slept for the majority of the time.

After several hours, they had reached the site of the previous battle. There were luckily many open areas in which the plane could land, and so they were able to exit relatively close to the infirmary in which they assumed the rest of Troop 18 would be residing. Malai and Zehra entered the camp and immediately made their way towards the infirmary.

Inside the infirmary were Darius, Joán, Fernando, and Amari, all who seemed to be discussing something serious, by the expression that sat on their faces. With the creaking of the door, they all looked up to see Malai and Zehra, jaws dropping before scrambling over to them.

“Careful, guys, your bandages!” shouted Amari.

They all ignored her and surrounded the other two in a large hug.

“I thought… we thought you both…” said Joán through large tears.

“Don’t scare us like that again,” said Fernando, grimacing at the pain he felt in his arm as he wrapped them around everyone.

“I’m… glad you’re both here, alive,” said Darius, tears running down his cheeks. “All of you. I… owe everything to you all.”

“You’re all sappy,” said Amari, who received a giggle from everyone.

“You are too, c’mere ‘Mar,” said Malai, opening her arms out as an invitation.

It was then that everyone noticed, but no one said anything, for this moment together was more important. Amari paused and smirked to herself before getting up from where she sat, and joined in on the friendly embrace. After a few moments of tears, sobs, and snot, Joán asked the burning question. “Malai…your arm… what happened? Where did the two of you go? The last time we saw you… you… well…”

“We went to Physician’s Island,” said Zehra, annoyingly not explaining further, as she always tended to do.

“Physician’s Island?” asked Fernando, eyes wide open. “How did you get there? It’s so far! You must have gone by plane, yes?”

“Yes. My brother… has many connections,” said Zehra.

“Brother?” asked Joán.

“There’s a lot to explain, it seems,” said Malai, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“Before you explain, we need to discuss something,” said Joán.

Malai’s interest perked up. “Discuss what?”

“Darius… he found a diary on one of the Toskamirian soldiers. It seemed to have a lot of important information in regards to the war, information we’ve never heard of. He had it before being taken here. We need to find it before anyone else does. If someone finds out it’s ours… that we’ve seen its contents…”

“Could you mean this one?” said a voice from behind them. It was one of the nurses, who held in front of her the soldier’s diary.

“...!”

“That’s–”

A single gunshot sound before any of them could process what had just occurred. They all looked over to where the sound of the gunshot came from, seeing Zehra hold her gun out in front of her, her arm still and confident, yet her expression couldn’t convey more hesitance and fear.

“Zehra!” cried Malai. “What are you doing?!”

Ignoring Malai’s cries, Zehra slowly turned her head to look at all of them. “Take whatever you need and dress quickly, we need to run.”

“Run? Run where?!” shouted Joán, gripping his hair with both hands in frustration and shock.

“If we stay here any longer, we’re all dead. Let’s go, move it!” Zehra’s voice boomed.

Everyone followed her order, quickly dressing and running out of the infirmary. After only a few minutes, they could see helicopters begin to circle around the area. Whenever the helicopters seemed to get anywhere near them, they took to hiding underneath trees and rocks in an attempt to not be spotted.

“Don’t speak until I say you can,” commanded Zehra with a hush, everyone hesitantly nodding in confirmation.

Once the helicopters had gotten further away from them, Zehra commanded them all to stand and to keep running, but staying within forested areas, which would provide them with more concealment. They ran, and ran, and continued to run, ignoring the tension in their knees, the pain in their feet, and the blood in their dried throats.

Run, little rabbit.

Run.

Run.

Run.

The wolf will catch you if you stop.

⬺

Erik stared out the window as he repeatedly dragged the dull nail of his thumb across the sides of his middle finger. His under-eyes were dark with anxiety and restlessness, almost as if he were waiting for something. He flexed his jaw as he pressed his teeth together, his chest rising up and down with shallow breaths. His father made no comment on his behavior, instead continuing to briefly skim documents and then signing them without much thought. The sound of a knock on a wooden door suddenly sounded, and when given the consent to enter, the doorknob twisted and a man walked in.

“There are traitors within Troop 18,” said the anxious man, Roland, who had just entered the office of President Claude.

“Is that so…?” he asked, blowing out a string of smoke, holding onto his cigar with his forefinger and thumb.

“Yes sir, we have reports of suspicious behavior among not only some of the soldiers, but the higher ranking personnel as well. There’s also a possibility there are outsiders that are helping.”

“Hm,” he sighed, leaning back in the chair as he drew another breath of smoke.

“What should we do, sir?” Roland asked, fidgeting with his thumbs behind his back.

“Well, though I must say I do find your loyalty to my word simultaneously fascinating and appealing, I am not in the greatest mood at the moment. Simply deal with them, yes? And… make sure you deal with the Colonel as well.”

“Of course. My apologies, sir,” Roland said as he left the room.

President Claude looked to his right out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve been quiet.”’

“It’s nothing, father,” replied Erik, rather quietly.

President Claude smiled, reaching up a hand to cup Erik’s face behind him. “I see,” he said, taking in a breath of smoke. “Don’t be mad at me, you know it was necessary.”

Erik leaned down closer. “I could never be angry with the blessed Leader.”

President Claude smiled as he pinched Erik’s nose. “Your nose is bleeding again.”

Erik’s eyes widened as he stepped back, reaching a finger to wipe his nose, looking down at a bright smear of blood. “I’m sorry,” he said as he brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose, harshly pressing on it.

“You’re being too rough, Erik,” President Claude said as he gently moved Erik’s hand away from his nose.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Erik trailed off as Claude ruffled his hair with a gentle smile. “It’s just that I was thinking,” he said.

“Thinking? About what?” Claude asked, wiping blood off of his fingers.

“Those defectors…” Erik began. “What if instead of simply killing them, we went about it a different way?”

“They are only defectors, we’ve seen this same scenario time and time again. Why the change?”

Erik looked to the side, staring out the window. “What if we simply followed them? Tracked their every moment, discovering who and what is helping them. We can weed out all those who are unholy, those who are traitors. We can remain at their heels, barely nipping at their feet. Just barely so that they do not notice until they look behind, and everyone is gone, and they become rats trapped in a maze with no end.”

Claude shifted in his seat, deeply pondering Erik’s idea. “I suppose it is not a bad idea as long as we remain in control. It would be beneficial for us to weed out the population. I will consider it, Erik. Anyways, I’ve asked Nina to make your favorite dish, freshwater salmon,” President Claude said. “I’m sure that will cheer you up. And you should know that I’m going out of my way to do this for you. It’s rather difficult to find good salmon these days.”

Erik nodded, ignoring the twist in his stomach. “Thank you.”

President Claude stared at Erik with an unamused expression before smiling. “Go on now,” he said, with Erik nodding in response as he left the room.

Chapter 10: The Marionette Maid and the Rascal

It had been two days now that the crew had run away. They had decided on going east, for it would lead them further away from Achalasia, and bring them more towards the center of Hallakuura, where there would be significantly fewer inhabitants. However, they had no real direction, and did not have any plan. They were exhausted, wounded, and their souls had irreparable gashes sliced into them. No one spoke, no laughter could be heard, instead, only the heavy snow beneath worn-out boots crunching as they dug their weight into it. A small forest of fern trees could be seen in the distance, and Zehra had ordered that they go there, as it would be a suitable place to hide and create a plan going forward. Everyone nodded, content with the idea, for they had no other direction. They trudged through the snow and eventually made it to the small forest, settling down a few meters into the depths of the trees. Everyone sat silently, feeling the cold creep up their legs as their blood settled. It was only after a few minutes that Zehra took it upon herself to speak up.

“So, what exactly are we trying to achieve now?”

“Man, I dunno! You’re the one who shot that guy in the fuckin’ forehead with no damn warning!” exclaimed Joán, who held his scarf above his nose in an attempt to conserve warmth in his face.

Zehra, if she had tried to hide her annoyance, did not do so very well. “It was the only option, Darius having the diary marked us all as traitors. It was either killing him and running, or being tortured and executed.”

Darius looked away, a pang of guilt rising in his chest. “You should decide. You’re the leader, anyway.”

Zehra sighed and shrugged. “Not anymore, not really, not now.”

Everyone looked down, realizing that Zehra was correct, and they were no longer bound by their previous titles and ranks. As of now, they were all equal, and they had only one title: traitor.

“Maybe we should go up north? It’ll be colder, but there’s less people,” said Fernando, playing with the cuff of his uniform, seemingly just as out of it as the rest of the crew was.

“Go further north? Our blood is practically ice as is, we’ll die of the cold before we do anything. Our deaths will be pathetic! All for nothin’!” exclaimed Joán.

“Calm down, Joán! He was just suggesting it! It’s not like you have any ideas, do you?” shouted Malai, her teeth chattering as she did so.

Joán shook his head as he furrowed his brows and closed his eyes. “God, maybe we should think twice before shooting one of the fucks that works directly for the guy on the throne?”

“I had no option, would you rather die?” said Zehra, her voice significantly bolder.

Joán looked away, not responding for a few moments, before taking a deep breath.

“God, okay, I’m sorry. Really, I’m just… worried. I mean, this means only one thing for me, for us. We gotta run forever now, y’know? I just didn't expect this, is all. I was hoping to come back home sometime, once I was done…er, uh, yeah, finished with this all,” Joán blushed as he looked down at his calloused hands. “I’m sorry, really.”

Zehra didn’t respond verbally, instead lightly nodding her head. There wasn’t much else to be said, after all. Joán was correct, this was a terrible situation, they were public enemies of the Leaders, the government and the Church. Not only the government of Achalasia, but the government of Hallakuura as well, who was closely allied with them, and conveniently the land they currently stood in. But at the very same time, the moment they knew about the soldier’s journal that Darius possessed, they were marked as traitors, targeted as prey. In reality, this was the best possible scenario for them, as they were able to run, escape. In any other case, they would be dead, throats slit, guillotined heads rolling on the ground, gunshots pierced through their bodies like swiss cheese. Everyone was lost in thoughts of despair before a raspy voice brought them out of it.

“Wow, sounds like you guys got a lot goin’ on.”

They all nodded in unison.

“Wait–” said Darius before everyone looked up with wide eyes.

Everyone turned their heads to investigate the source from which the words came from. They looked to see a tuft of hair peeking out from behind a particularly large bush. Everyone reached for a weapon, and Zehra took the lead in approaching the stranger, pointing her rifle directly at the bush before the figure leaped out, and they soon noticed, it was not just one, but two. A strongly built woman stood up, carrying a small, scrawny, blonde-haired boy on her back. Despite her muscular build, she looked to be in a state of weakness, her hair disheveled, one part of it covering half of her face completely, clothes ripped, and slightly hollowed cheeks emphasizing the dark circles surrounding her eye. She also appeared to be wounded, the skin underneath her hair appearing to be aggressively crimson in color and blistering in some areas.

“Woah, woah!” she said, backing up and putting her hands up slightly, so that she was able to convey her submission all the while supporting the young child on her back. “We don’t gotta do that! I’m not here to hurt ya! And I’m no snitch, I mean, c’mon, I’m in no better situation than you are!”

Zehra raised her eyebrow. “So you heard everything?”

The woman smiled sheepishly, taking another step back. “Well, uh, I wasn’t gonna trust a group of strangers so easily, so I sat back and listened in for a lil’ bit, nothin’ mischievous ‘bout it, I swear! I just gotta find a safe place for this kid here. But ya know, not many places here, let alone those who are kind to criminals.”

“Criminals? Are you…?” asked Malai, who stood closely behind Zehra.

The woman looked down at the ground, before a small smirk landed on her face. “Don’t you want to at least know my name first? Very well, then. Yes, I am a criminal.”

The air between them seemed to grow thicker, to the point where no one felt as if it could enter their lungs.

“I am a murderer,” she said, taking a small breath before continuing. “And I killed two members of the Lesser Council, Hallakuuran Branch.”

Zehra lowered her gun.

Chapter 11: Mutualism in Symbiotic Relationships and Altruistic Behaviors

“What are you doing? Put your gun back up, we can’t trust her!” shouted Joán, his gun still held up, pointed directly at Hania.

Zehra sighed, and dropped her gun onto the powdery snow.

“Zehra!” cried Malai. “Joán’s right, what are you doing?!”

Zehra ignored the worried cries of Malai and Joán, and instead moved closer to Hania, raising her hand to move her hair to the side to inspect the wound. “A burn? It looks as if it came from water.”

Hania nodded. “Yes, water. Boiling water. Came outta nowhere, but did quite a number, huh?” she said, letting out a saddened chuckle. “One of the other maids did it. Caught me in the middle of the act. And, ya know, it’s a decent gig, compared to everything else, anyways. Didn’t wanna lose the little luxury she had. Poured the boiling water straight from the kettle right onto me. I didn’t have time to do anything about it, so I just took the kid with me and ran.”

Zehra nodded lightly, before turning her attention to the boy. “Is he harmed?”

Hania shook her head. “No, just asleep. I drugged him before I did everything. I didn't want him to see all that. Worked well, though! He was out like a light super fast!”

Zehra seemed to accept the response, continuing to ignore the confused and unapproving glares coming from the rest of the crew.

“How old is the boy?”

“Nine. His name is Ralf.”

“...I see.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Darius interrupted. “Sergeant, why are you trusting them?” Darius couldn’t understand what Zehra was doing. They were criminals, they had committed desertion, they would be tortured and killed if found, they couldn’t trust anyone. He picked at the skin around his nails.

Zehra swiftly turned to look at the rest of the crew who stood behind her, still holding their guns in the air and directing them at Hania. Ignoring Darius, she commanded, “Lower your weapons.”

“Zehra–!” cried Malai.

“Drop them,” her voice boomed even louder than before, everyone hesitantly dropping their weapons onto the soft snow. “If they were going to hurt us, they would have already. I don’t see any weapons on either of them as well.”

“It could still be a trap, a set up–” said Darius before being interrupted by Zehra’s cold gaze.

“It’s not a set-up. It’s too strange of a situation to be a set-up. We have the upper-hand here in every regard. They’re not armed, she’s carrying a child who is drugged unconscious on her back, and has admitted to several counts of murder. That’s not a set-up, that’s insanity.”

“Hey!” interrupted Hania, seemingly feigning her offense to the statement.

“It’s real life,” said Zehra, everyone looking at her, dumbfounded.

“Eh?” said the crew in unison.

“A story like that, it’s unhinged, pure lunacy, completely unbelievable. Exactly how the real world is. Which is why while I don’t trust them completely, I am able to put my weapon down, and look at them eye-to-eye. Because as of right now, we are both prey, we are both targets, being hunted by the predator, the pride of man. An oxpecker and impala are both prey, and as a result, help each other to survive and thrive in a world that is purely against them. That is how I see these strangers. We are in no situation to be making more enemies. We need allies. So, allow me to form this relationship, not built upon trust, but on pure necessity,” Zehra said, before reaching her hand out to Hania, who lightly smirked before grabbing Zehra’s hand and roughly shaking it.

‘It’s settled then, I will join you, Miss Impala,” Hania said with a mischievous grin, followed by a dramatic bow.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Oxpecker.”

⬺

Despite their abnormal first encounter, the crew had already gotten used to the presence of Hania and Ralf. It was only two hours after meeting Hania that Ralf awoke, to which Hania had to explain everything that had happened to him, further solidifying Hania’s story, as Ralf truly didn’t seem to understand anything she had told him, but continued nodding anyway as to seem as if he did. The boy, despite only having just woken up after a sixteen hour long drugged slumber, was quite the personality. He seemed to never stop grinning, nor talking about the various things he saw, pointing at them and commanding everyone to look. While Malai happily indulged in this, finding interest in every small creature and plant that the boy pointed at, it began to bore the rest of the crew. But boredom in this world was something that was rare to come by, something that could be considered a luxury in their situation, so they happily crouched next to the boy to observe whatever it was that had caught his childlike interest.

Hania was much different. Melancholy and exhaust could be seen in her eyes and the wrinkles that adorned her face, but nevertheless, she let out hearty laughs at Joán’s interesting statements, Malai and Ralf’s excitement for every miniscule creature that hid in the grass, and the frequent quarrels among members of the crew, often joining in herself as a playful instigator. She was strange, really. She wasn’t unkind, but she wasn’t like Malai. It was a wiser kindness, as if she only let those she trusted see it. He wondered if she had already grown to trust them, and if she had, why? They were ultimately, still strangers to each other. He thought back to what Sergeant Zehra had said about trust resulting from pure necessity. An animal that sees another in pain, trapped, will sometimes give its life to save it. It doesn’t even have to be the same species, just similar. Darius wonders, and thinks that this is the reason why. Hania and Ralf were wounded dogs on the brink of death, and Zehra and the crew were in no better position. It’s as if they were in the same situation, standing on the same string of death. They had no choice but to trust in each other. They swam in the same depth of the ocean, and only their bodies would help them float back up. Hania seemed to notice Darius’ relentless staring, and decided to speak up.

“Do I have something on my face?” she said with a playfully mocking smile.

Darius looked away, embarrassed. “No, no. Sorry.”

Hania looked down at him, observing his strange behavior. “It’s okay, little man, I get it. I’m just a stranger to you. You don’t gotta trust me or nothing. But just know, my interests lie in yours, now. I am a weapon in your arsenal.”

Darius looked up and nodded, before Hania laughed heartily and ruffled Darius’ hair roughly.

“So uh, how’s the weather today, do you think?” asked Hania, awkwardly.

“There’s no need for small talk,” said Zehra, Hania letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” said Hania, raising her arms to the back of her head.

Malai chuckled at that, already having let down her barrier quite a bit, trusting the judgement of Zehra. Joán appeared to be on the fence about the entire situation, as did Fernando. Amari didn’t seem concerned. Darius, on the other hand, was extremely weary of these new members. He didn’t know how to act around them or what to say. He didn’t trust them, either, despite what Sergeant Zehra had said earlier. He picked at the calluses on his palms, distracting himself from the current situation.

“Anyways, why do you have a monkey?” asked Hania, looking over at the small creature who sat perched on Malai’s shoulder.

“Oh! Hamud! Hamud, say ‘hi’ to Hania!” Malai commanded kindly, allowing Hamud to run across her arm to sniff Hania. “I got him in the Kapuahi Islands! I found him eating a lemon! I didn’t know monkeys ate lemons, so I named him ‘Hamud’ ‘cos Zehra told me that in some ancient language, ‘Hamud’ meant ‘sour!’”

“I’ve heard something like that,” said Hania, letting a hand reach over to pet Hamud on the head. “I read a lot. It’s the only escape you get, most of the time. In this world, anyway.”

Malai looked at her curiously, raising a brow, nodding as she looked down at her feet. “I never read much,” she said. “My parents couldn’t afford it, school I mean.”

Hania nodded. “My parents taught me how to read just before I was sent away. I wonder if they timed it to be like that on purpose, knowing I’d get bored and would need to have a way to put myself in other worlds without putting a gun to my head or sticking my neck into a noose.”

“Reading isn’t all that interesting,” said Darius. “In school, all we did was read about guns and the history of Achalasia. It got boring after a while,” he said, scratching his head.

Hania raised an eyebrow. “Well, no wonder you think it’s boring,” she said, pausing before continuing. “There’s so much more in the world of books. Fantasy worlds, societies with different rulers, machines that could never exist in our world, people that get along, people that fight, it’s beautiful. If I didn’t have books, a way to leave this world… I think I woulda’ just found another way, one that involves a gun to my head or a bottle of pills,” said Hania, not particularly noticing just how morbid the conversation became.

Darius paused, staring at her. “What kind of stories did you read?” he asked, curiously.

Hania looked down at him, smiling just slightly. “Do you want me to tell you stories, little guy?” she said, her voice sounding almost mockingly, however, was laced with an undoubtable sincerity. “You know, I think I always wanted to be a librarian, helping people choose stories for themselves to read, reading to little children.”

Darius blushed and looked away, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed and childish for his question. Hania, noticing this, let out an outburst of laughter before slapping him on the upper back. “I’ll tell you all the stories I know. Though, it was mostly the collection of Lady Karla. She had… rather interesting tastes…” she said with a smile, before looking at Joán with a smirk. “Are you all hungry?” asked Hania.

“Duh, but we got no food,” said Joán, sadly.

“No food? Whaddya mean? There’s food everywhere around here!” Hania said, everyone looking around to see what she had meant, only to look up at the same exact image they had stared at for the past few days, a blanket of snow covering dead leaves and grass.

“Er– everywhere, huh?” asked Malai, a bead of sweat running down her forehead.

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