We walked into the center of the camp, my breath labored as every step felt like walking through fire. My flayed leg still felt like it was burning under the bandage, all the new bruises Tav had given me pounded dully. Even the pain of my dislocated shoulder that I had forgotten about resurfaced because of him.
I just wanted to drop to the floor and collapse, but Tav wouldn't let me. He held me up as we slowly walked forward, assisting me while I limped, shaking me to wake up when I was about to fall unconscious, even taking away some of the injuries with his blessing.
I wanted to resent him. I wanted to be angry for putting me through this. But when I looked in his eyes, the tired strain on his eyelids, the ever darkening eye bags, the stress and extremely tired look on his face, I could only think that he was right. He was doing his best, trying to push me to action. But do I want to do my best? Do I want to leave this pitiful state?
Five older people, maybe in their middle ages, were talking animatedly with Veraque. They seemed to be the representatives of each virtue domain in the haven, each adorned in distinctive attire that reflected their values.
One, the same as Kuti, had a single piece of light purple fabric wrapped around her body with purple designs threaded at the hems. She stood with perfect posture, her movements measured and deliberate, never a gesture wasted.
A second man wore a simple white gown that had been turned brown in places from work in the woods.
A third woman wore a flamboyant blouse with several patches of color stitched around it, while sporting black trousers. Her fingers were adorned with handcrafted rings she'd made for herself. I had noticed her before, she would freely give away at the slightest admiration from others.
Then a fourth elderly man with silver silk robes draped over his slack shoulders. He spoke rarely, but when he did, everyone listened. His eyes, clear and penetrating, seemed to evaluate everything with purpose.
And finally, a fifth man in a black cloak. His severe expression and rigid stance betrayed his uncompromising nature. A thin scar ran across his right cheek.
All of them were talking—well, more like shouting—at Veraque. Throwing accusations, threats that they would start leaving this place back to their domains, and suggestions for what to do next.
"We should go into the forest and kill every single one of those Flayers," The man in the black coat spat. "Balance must be restored. Blood for blood. Then we'd have revenge for the people we lost!" He lowered his voice to a growl. "And maybe we'd have something else to eat for once instead of those tasteless dry pheasants."
The woman in the purple-hemmed dress shot him a withering look, her voice controlled despite her obvious irritation. "Even now you're thinking of filling your stomach," she chided, each word precisely chosen. Then to Veraque: "Priestess, the most prudent option is to pack everyone and everything and leave this place at once. We must preserve what we have left."
"Pack and leave?" The man in the white gown scoffed, slapping his palm against the side of a tree trunk, leaving a muddy handprint. "We built half this place with our bare hands. Every shelter, every wall represents our sweat and determination. I'm not abandoning the structures we bled to raise!"
"And yet blood continues to spill," The woman in the multi-colored gown said, her hands open in supplication toward the others. Her painted sleeve flared as she pointed toward a still-smoking patch of forest beyond the haven. "We must think of the children, the wounded. We are not soldiers, Farik. This isn't some honorable stand. It's suicide. Every second we remain, we risk another massacre!"
The silver-robed elder coughed with dry authority, his voice resonating with wisdom earned through years. "This isn't about pride. Or comfort. We've lost a dozen already, and half our food stock with them. The refugees are scared. They're looking to us, and all they see is bickering."
"Maybe if some of us weren't so weak-willed—" the man in the black cloak began, venom in his words, but he didn't get to finish.
"Enough," Veraque snapped, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. It didn't carry the gravitas a general might have—honestly, I think the only reason they listened was because she is a Virtue Priestess, even if she lacked the teeth to enforce her will. "Fighting ourselves won't do us any good. We need a plan to move forward."
Her eyes shimmered with restrained tears, not from weakness, but from exhaustion. Her priestess robes were smudged with ash and blood. It was then she noticed us. More specifically—me.
She stared, and for a brief moment, the circle of leaders fell silent. Her gaze swept over my swollen eye, the dried blood on my lip, the way my shoulder hung too low beneath my torn shirt. Her expression transformed from shock to disbelief to something dangerously close to anger.
I hated the way they all looked at me, like I was a little child that had drifted too far from home. And in a way, I was. I had no idea where I was going from here. If we found Kuti, then what? Could we rebuild the Haven despite the attack? Would people still have hope in this being a safe place?
"Bon..." she whispered, stepping forward, her voice barely audible. "What—who—did this to you?"
Tav didn't let me answer.
"I did," he said flatly, stepping between us, his stance unyielding.
Gasps rippled through the circle like wind through dead leaves.
"You..." Veraque's voice faltered, then tightened as she regained composure. "You laid your hands on him? In my domain? H-how is that even possible? And how could you do so even after everything we've been through?"
Tav tilted his head, unapologetic. "That's how men handle things."
I don't know if Tav realized it, but whispers started forming between the representatives. They were discussing how Tav had inflicted violence on me, even when Veraque's Holy Mandate of Zero Violence was still supposedly active. Tav's little stunt had sown new seeds of doubt. If violence could still happen here, who's to say anyone was safe, even with the Priestess' power?
I myself still wondered. When Tav had hit me and I had questioned him, all he had said was "Figure it out." He knows, but he won't tell me why, or how he broke through the Mandate.
The woman in the flamboyant blouse took a sharp breath, her colorful sleeve fluttering with her agitation. "I told you he was too unstable to represent Humility!"
"Keep quiet, you old hag," Tav hissed, his tone eerily calm despite the harshness of his words. "I'm not even representing Humility here. I want nothing to do with the Virtues."
"Veraque," the black-cloaked man hissed, his hand tightening around his belt where a weapon might have hung, "you swore there would be no violence here. This is grounds for exile!"
Veraque raised her hand again for silence, but the strain showed now more than ever. For all her grace and magic, it was her heart that always stood tallest—and right now, it was bending under the weight of impossible choices.
"I don't condone what Tav did," she said slowly, as if tasting each word for bitterness. Her fingers traced the emblem on her robes, a nervous habit I'd noticed before. "But I won't exile the only healer who's kept us alive. Nor will I abandon someone who has proven, time and time again, that his methods, however flawed, come from devotion."
A heavy silence settled over us. The representatives shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances but offering no further argument.
Bon stared at her—at the sorrow carved into her face like wind-worn stone. And despite everything, he understood.
She's kind. Too kind. To a fault. And in this world, that kindness could kill her, and everyone else with her.
But that realization wouldn't go anywhere. Not yet.
Tav took a deep breath, then a step forward, carefully adjusting the shoulder where he carried my weight. His movements were deliberate, as if each one required calculation.
"We're going into the woods," he announced, his voice low but carrying across the clearing. "Bon and I. We're going to find Kuti."
The declaration hung in the air for a moment before that reignited the circle.
"Have you gone mad?" the man in the brown robe exploded, dirt-stained hands gesturing wildly at my broken state. "You can barely walk!"
"And that girl could be dead already!" said the woman with the colorful blouse, her voice tinged with a grief that suggested she'd seen too many losses already.
The silver-robed elder simply closed his eyes, as if measuring the wisdom of such a venture and finding it wanting.
"She's out there," Tav said, his certainty unwavering. He looked toward the treeline, shadows stretching between the trunks like dark fingers. "Alone. Maybe dying. But alive. And we're going."
Veraque watched the exchange, her hands folded before her. Then, with the weight of true decision, she gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
"Then I'll go with you."
The objections erupted immediately, louder than before. Threats, even. The man in the black cloak stepped toward her, his voice sharp with warning. If she left, they said, the whole system would fall apart. If she died, the Haven would splinter into nothing.
But she didn't answer them.
She just turned to us, her expression set with quiet resolve, and said, "Let's go."
In the momentary calm that followed, I studied her more closely. She looked exhausted now, eyebags under her eyelids like Tav's, and I thought back to how Tav's blessings made him exhausted. Blessings were just extensions of Holy Mandates. Maybe that was the same thing that was happening to Veraque—a slow draining of life essence to fuel her power.
"Are you sure you can do this?" I asked her, my voice soft with genuine concern.
She blinked, surprise momentarily replacing the weariness in her eyes. "What do you mean?" She replied, seemingly confused. "Of course I can walk to the forest and find her for you."
"No, I mean the constant use of your Holy Mandate for so long." I clarified. She had said that it was activated to protect everyone out here, but it had to have its limit.
Her shoulders sagged slightly, a crack in her priestess composure. "Honestly? I'm starting to think it's unsustainable." She muttered. But then she threw a fake smile at me, one that didn't reach her tired eyes. "But that's for me to worry about. Not you."
I didn't persist, though questions still swirled in my mind.
We left the camp behind, the voices of the representatives fading into the rustle of leaves. The forest yawned open like a dark throat before us. Wind whispered through the trees—secrets we couldn't understand—and my battered body trembled with each step.
For a while, we walked in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. The pain in my leg throbbed in time with my heartbeat, but I focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
"So," Veraque said finally, breaking the quiet as they walked, the tension simmering behind her calm tone. "Was it worth it? I meant the fight."
I glanced at Tav, whose expression remained unreadable. "It wasn't even a fight. More like physical abuse."
That made Veraque's eyebrow raise even higher, her gaze sharpening as she studied Tav's impassive face.
Tav laughed under his breath, a sound without humor. "He stood up."
"That's not an answer," Veraque said, stepping carefully over a fallen branch.
"It's the only one that matters," Tav said, his grip on my arm tightening slightly.
Another silence stretched between us, broken only by our footsteps and the occasional call of a bird high above. The forest seemed to breathe around us, ancient and unconcerned with our human troubles.
"I still don't know how you used violence in my domain..." She muttered deep in thought. I could see the veins of her temple pulsing, probably the effects of using her invisible mandate for so long. I wanted to ask her about it again, but like she said, it wasn't my business. "But please don't use it for evil, while we are here."
Tav paused, allowing me to rest against a tree for a moment. His eyes met Veraque's, something old and bitter passing between them.
"Considering the atrocities the Virtue Priestesses have done over the centuries-" Tav scoffed, the words hanging in the damp forest air, "I'm not sure what you consider 'evil' anymore."
Veraque fell silent, considering what her Sisters had done, no doubt sensing the hostility in Tav's voice. I knew he hated the Virtue Priestesses and still planned to kill them after everything, but picking a fight with Veraque, our only protector right now, was not a good idea.
He seemed to realize this too, and we trudged in silence for a while, each footstep cracking through leaves and twigs and distant trauma. The forest had grown darker, more ominous as we ventured deeper. It pulsed like something alive, and I couldn't help but feel it was watching us.
"How far can your Holy Mandate extend, Virtue Priestess Veraque?" Tav finally asked, breaking the tense silence.
Veraque glanced at him, suspicious of his sudden interest. "About four leagues, I think? I've never done an accurate measurement of it." She studied his face. "Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering if we're still under its protection," Tav replied, eyeing the darkening trees around us.
The trek continued for nearly an hour, maybe more. The sun had begun to rise behind the clouds, casting everything in a dim morning light that barely penetrated the canopy.
And then, I saw her.
Kuti.
She was crouched beside a large tree, her back half-turned toward us. Her pale arms curled tightly around something, her purple-hemmed clothes haggard and torn in several places.
And in her arms was Col.
We had tried to approach quietly once we spotted her, but she turned her head ever so slightly toward us—a subtle movement that told me she was aware of our presence.
I looked at Col's glassy, lifeless eyes and realized—she had been using them as a mirror to see behind her. That's how she knew we were here.
"You must think I'm some sort of monster, don't you," she said with a small smile, cradling Col's body and preparing to put her back in a wooden box beside her that I hadn't noticed before.
The wind blew. The trees creaked. And the forest held its breath.