My hut was more oppressive with silence than any sword. Dozens of eyes bore down on me, judging, questioning, slicing deeper than swords ever could. My arms clenched harder around the girl until she cried out — I couldn't release her. If I did, if I relaxed my hold for a moment, they'd take her and I'd let her down once more.
"Charlie," the hooded figure echoed, his tone slow and guarded, as if I was some feral animal who might bite. "You must set the child down."
"She's mine to guard!" The words burst out of me, harsh, fractured. I could hear how crazy I sounded, but I didn't care. "You don't get it — you all died. All of you. Blood on everything. And she—" I buried my face in her hair, shuddering. "She was dead too. But a god—" My throat constricted. "A god brought me back. See? I saved her this time!"
Whispers ran through the crowd. Shock, revulsion, terror. To them I was mad.
Betty, the guild receptionist, approached. Her face was white, her smile fake. "Charlie," she said softly, the way one addresses a sick man, "you're frightening people. No one died. No god sent you anywhere. You've… you've been under stress. Please, just set her down and we'll take you to a healer."
A healer. The term pierced me. They believed that I was insane. That all of it, everything that I had seen, everything that I had lived through, was merely some illness in my mind.
I shook my head hard. "No. I'm not insane! I know what I saw. I know what I experienced." My voice broke, hoarse, urgent. "I died."
The man in the robes lifted his hand and the villagers shifted uncomfortably, others backing toward the door. His eyes were fixed on me like iron. "Whether you're mad or hexed, boy, holding on to that girl makes you unsafe. Let her go… or we'll make you.
The girl gripped my sleeve hard, blind eyes flashing though she saw nothing. She was mute, but her shaking told me all I needed to know: she feared them, she feared me.
I didn't know which was worse.
Silence squeezed so hard I could hear my blood. The girl gripped my sleeve, shaking. The robed man's eyes shone like he already knew the verdict.
"No one believes me…" I growled, grinding my teeth. "Dead. All of them. I was there. A god—he sent me back."
A shiver of fear crept across the room. Whispers, shifting steps, the scent of sweat rising acrid. Concern, pity, fear—all knotted into a crushing weight.
Betty, the receptionist, came forward, white-faced but not ungentle. "Charlie," she said softly, near pleading. "Please. You need to be seen by a healer. This isn't—"
"I'm not crazy!" I bellowed, shattering the air like glass. I clutched the girl tight until she flinched. "I saw it! I died! And now—now you all just want me locked up?!
Betty winced but didn't step back. Her arm waved in the air, as if she needed to touch me but couldn't. "No! Charlie, stop!" she shouted as I pushed her aside and rushed through the door.
The hut behind me erupted with gasps and whispers, but not a single voice lifted in anger. Only concern. Only fear that I was shattering sooner than they could catch up.
I ran. My boots clobbered the earth, lungs seared, the girl holding onto my cloak like driftwood. My chest seared, my eyes smarting, and all I could think was: the duck. My duck. My sole fucking buddy. He'd be waiting by the river, waddling as always, famished for the crumbs I kept back for him.
I skidded down the familiar slope, my heart racing. "Hey! Buddy! I—I brought food—" My voice broke, urgent. I knelt on the riverbank, ripping open the small pouch of rations I'd carried.
But the river was bare. No soft quacks. No feathers. Just water sliding by, black and still.
The girl cocked her head at me, bewildered, as I dropped crumbs onto the ground. My throat constricted. My hands trembled.
There wasn't a duck. There never had been one. Only a story I'd created to get through the quiet. A lie I held on to so the nights in that hut didn't seem so vast and empty.
The crumbs drifted away, borne off on the tide. I gazed until my eyes ran together, until my chest collapsed inward on itself. My only friend, my only hold, had ever been inside my head.
And now, cradling this silent, dark child against my chest, I wasn't sure if that made me a monster… or just a man too afraid of being alone.
The crumbs disappeared. The water had swallowed them like it swallowed me. My chest moved up and down in deep sobs, and for once I didn't struggle against them.
The girl's small hand stroked my arm, hesitant, as if she was attempting to soothe me. But her sightless eyes returned nothing. Only reflection. Only silence.
I pushed my palm against my forehead, nails scratching in until it ached. "Perhaps they're correct," I whispered. "Perhaps I'm ill. Perhaps it's in my mind."
The words were bitter, but they were the first truthful ones I'd uttered all day.
"I'll go," I grumbled, bobbing my head in agreement. "I'll have them take me to their healer. I'll have them poke and prod and tell me which things are broken. If it keeps her safe. I'll do it."
The girl leaned her weight against me, and I drew her close, holding her like evidence that I was still alive. My boots were weighted as I plodded back towards the hut, lamplight's glow quivering in the distance.
But half up the path, a resounding crack occurred. Pain burst at the base of my skull, white-hot, blinding. My knees gave way. The world spun.
Behind the blur, I saw a final moment — dark figures moving quickly, muffled voices, the girl's tiny form torn from my grasp. She didn't scream. She merely stretched out her spindly fingers to me as they dragged her from me.
"Wait—" My voice cracked. My hand grasped at air.
Then it was black.
My eyelids opened, the room wheeling about like some sadistic merry-go-round. The hut was still. Too still. The girl was not there. My head pounded, my eyes still unfocused.
Then it came to me.
The guild.
Her legs.
The memory leapt forward, sharp and searing. She hadn't been taken — she'd been ravaged. The blood, the terror, the loss of control… I'd witnessed it. Her small limbs ripped apart, her body shattered in ways no child should ever experience.
I gripped my face with both hands, attempting to push the image back down, but it wouldn't budge. My heart beat against my ribs like a drum, fear and remorse tangled into a knot so tight I could hardly catch my breath.
"She. she didn't deserve this," I croaked, voice strained. Tears scalded my eyes, stinging and acidic. "And it's my fault. I should've. I should've taken care of her.
I climbed to my feet, knees trembling, chest gasping. The world spun once more, but the fury, the powerlessness, the sheer need to make this right — it grounded me.
"I… I must find her," I stammered, shaking. "No matter what it costs.
Each step backward toward the guild seethed with fear and determination. The vision of her torn body, of her delicate hands grasping for me, seared itself into my mind like a branding.
And deep down, I knew — whatever lay ahead, I could not let her down again.