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The last of the Dragon’s Descendants die in the rain, torn apart by the knights and apprentices that they have hunted for so long.
Half-dead as they are, Ludika and Fidorance still manage to usher all the apprentices into shelter before the dust fully settles. It’s good that they had the foresight to do so, Zius thinks; he and Darang have much to answer for, but the apprentices don’t need to sear the sight of Laurun’s crumpled body into their minds.
Even in death, the Dragon’s Descendants’ chief holds Liamin protectively close. Not that it had saved either of them, in the end.
Zius leans against a nearby tree, bone-tired, and rests his eyes for just a moment. It does little to drown out the purple-haired girl’s screams as her friend died, does even less to block out the memories of the man he’d worked with for so long, but he tells himself that it will be enough. It must be. God knows it must be worse for Darang right now. God knows it must be worse for the apprentices.
He had been hoping, however naively, to bury the knights’ greatest shame on his own. He hadn’t wanted the apprentices to become complicit in this genocide, nor did he think it would be fair for Darang to carry any more of this burden—
But here they are. Nothing to be done about it now.
The two of them linger by the carnage for just a moment longer, weighed down by the metallic scent of blood and ozone hanging heavy in the air. It’s enough to sicken anyone.
Zius breathes in, breathes out.
Alright. Rest over.
He pushes himself off from the tree, weight squarely back on his own two feet, and gets to work.
He does not get another chance to rest until dawn.
Ludika had already begun the process of triaging the apprentices’ injuries, but she’s barely on her feet as is, so he forces her to rest and takes over. He does not think they will all make it; Quaring and Darigon, at the very least, are lost causes.
But morale is low enough as it is, so he does not let it show.
Darang finishes tending to Fadiyan and Ludika, then joins him in helping the apprentices. Fidorance is at least conscious enough to patch his own injuries, but only just barely; even still, he spends his half-lucid state trying to keep the remaining apprentices calm. Waron, meanwhile, has vanished entirely.
Zius tells himself there’s no need to be concerned about it. Although she’s just as, if not more injured than Fidorance, she’s always been able to handle herself.
Even still…
After the others are taken care of and Darang has been dispatched to find a healer, he picks up the last of their medical supplies and goes looking for Waron, unease creeping up his spine. The sun is rising higher, and he’s exhausted, and he wasn’t paying enough attention to her in the chaos to even know what direction she’s gone off in, and…
Well, maybe he’s a little worried. She would be the type to wander off to die alone, after all.
But it isn’t too hard to find her in the end. He tracks her down through the scent of blood and finds her collapsed against a tree, helmet beside her, white hair adrift in the gentle breeze.
Zius hesitates. He’s unsure if he should get any closer, and unable to swallow the uncomfortable feeling that he’s intruding. But his worry over her motionless state ultimately supersedes his desire to safeguard her secrets.
“Black Hen,” he says, as a warning.
No response. That’s probably bad.
He crosses the rest of the clearing and kneels beside her, already scanning for injuries. It looks like she’s patched the mess that Laurun made of her ribs, and while nothing’s really been treated she’s at least stopped the bleeding, so perhaps she’s just—
A gloved hand shoots out and grips his wrist with brutal strength, threatening to snap his bones.
Zius lets out a sharp hiss. “Black Hen, it’s me.”
Waron stills momentarily. He thinks she will release him, but then she says, “I know,” and jerks his arm forward with a rough tug.
He topples onto her unceremoniously. “What—”
Cold fingers grip his jaw with bruising strength and force him to turn towards her. Beneath the messy curtain of white hair, Zius can just barely make out blazing eyes.
“You broke your oath to me, Qilin,” she says harshly.
A million justifications rise to the tip of his tongue. I had to. The apprentices would have died. Black Hen, (I love you, but—) I cannot value your desires over the lives that are my responsibility to protect. The Dragon’s Descendants—
He does not try to use any of them. “I did.”
“I was lenient last time,” she says. “I can’t be so lenient forever. A knight’s oath must mean something.”
Zius closes his eyes. No worming his way out of this one then, huh.
He’d always known it was a possibility. He’d weighed it and accepted the price, when he’d chosen to use Event Horizon without Waron’s permission during the battle—but even still, it comes as a bit of a surprise. He had always secretly believed that, given all her eccentricities in the face of the knights’ ways, Waron’s code of honor would be more flexible. But then again…
Understanding dawns.
“You were never…” He starts again. “You’re meant to serve as an enforcer, aren’t you.”
Waron tilts her had curiously. “Hm?”
“The reason you’ve never been punished for your knight hunts,” Zius continues, “even though they’re so well-known. It’s because you are sanctioned by the emperor. You’re meant to keep our ideals in line.”
The ultimate enforcer, one of their very own with the least regard for the rules. It’s such an easy thing to mistake for capriciousness that even he had overlooked it.
Waron grins, a sharp smile that’s all teeth and no joy.
“You’ve always been quick on the uptake, Qilin,” she says. “Though it’s a little late for that now. But if you know, then you understand why I have to kill you.”
Her grip loosens, briefly.
More quietly, she adds, “It’s almost a shame. I…”
Zius studies her unreadable face. Even if she doesn’t finish that sentence, he can see it in the tense set of her shoulders, her white-knuckled grip, the carefully hidden expression on her face:
Waron doesn’t want to do this.
Still, she must. And he won’t bother trying to change the inevitable.
He lets his head fall against her shoulder with a sigh. “Sorry.”
The movement must catch her off guard; Waron immediately stiffens up. But then the moment passes, and she also sighs and wraps her arms around him in defeat.
“You’re telling me that now?” she asks, but there’s no bite to it.
“As good a time as any,” he says. He shifts slightly, pulls the medical supplies out of his pockets and transfers them into hers. “That’s all we have left, if you need them. Or just give it back to the others. Though you should probably do that before bringing my corpse back.”
Waron is silent for a moment. Then she squeezes him tighter and mutters into his hat, “You should have kept your word, Zius. I never wanted to have to do this.”
He rests his head on her shoulder, listening to the slow beat of her heart, and says nothing.
After a long silence, he asks her, “How did you end up doing all this anyway?”
“I killed the previous one,” Waron answers, breezy voice at odds with the tightening of her embrace. “So the emperor told me to take his place.”
And why did you kill the previous enforcer? he wants to ask, but he has a feeling he already knows. He can guess where that green necklace comes from. It’s the only thing she seems to have any kind of sentimental attachment to, and maybe it’d be kinder not to have her mix those memories with the inevitability that’s coming.
A hand brushes against his hair. “Ready?”
No. But saying it won’t make this go away, and it won’t make it any easier for Waron to move on from either.
“Yes,” he lies, pushing himself off of her so that she won’t feel the full weight of his corpse when it’s over with.
Gloved hands wrap around his throat.
“I’ll make it quick,” she promises him.
Small mercies.
He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to have to see her face for this. He hopes she won’t blame herself.
“Take care, Waron,” he says hoarsely.
Her hands twist, and there is nothing.