That night, the rope waited.
Kael sat in the corner of the shack, his hands raw, his back burning from lashes, his breath heavy. The rope lay no more than an arm's length away, its fibers rough, its promise of silence stronger than ever.
He stared at it for a long time, silent. I felt his thoughts swirl like ash in a storm. "It would be easy. One knot. One step. The pain ends."
My chest tightened. "And Tomas? What then? Who helps him? Who shows him tomorrow?"
The question hit harder than the whip. Kael's breath shuddered. His hand trembled, hovering above the rope but never touching.
"I can't save him," he whispered inside me, broken. "I can't even save myself."
I leaned into the thought, pressing harder. "Then live. Live long enough to try. That's all you have to do."
Silence.
His hand fell away. The rope stayed in the dirt.
For one more night, Kael chose life.
But as I drifted into uneasy sleep, I knew the war wasn't over.
The rope would always wait.