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Aside from the crackle of the campfire and the chirping crickets, the night is otherwise silent. Normally, Dohalim would be grateful for the quiet—but not tonight. Tonight, it only serves to amplify the cacophony brewing in his head, the events of earlier today coursing through his thoughts like a broken record.
That horrible wailing continues to plague him in particular.
A member of the Dark Wings broke down upon learning of her deceased comrades. Alphen and the others helped where they could, comforting her and promising to enact vengeance on Almeidrea in her stead, but Dohalim himself stood there uselessly, a distant observer to his rigid form. Even after Kisara coaxed him out of his stupor, the buzzing never left his ears.
Having volunteered for nightwatch duty with him, Kisara remains at Dohalim’s side even now. He’s tempted to strike a conversation with her, if only to muffle the passage of his thoughts. But…
They have not talked since they left Elde Menancia. They speak in passing, yes, about superficial topics like Dohalim’s spending habits, and only when the others are around. But they have not talked, not about the things that matter.
Like how you killed her brother.
Dohalim shakes his head at the thought, but it’s too late. Memories of that day flood his mind unbidden, Kisara’s screams at the forefront. He resists the urge to plug his ears; he knows it won’t stop the voices, and he doesn’t need to give Kisara cause for concern. So he sits there, hands clenched in his lap, praying for the familiar jeers to dissipate if he ignores them long enough.
“This is who you really are?”
“Everything you stood for, it was all just a self-obsessed lie?”
“This is the person my brother died for, and for what?”
“Just so you wouldn’t have to listen to their screams?”
“It should have been you,” Kisara mutters.
“What?” Horrified, Dohalim turns to her. She’s not looking at him; it’s only after he speaks that she fixes him with a neutral gaze.
“What is it?” she asks. Her eyes widen, concern knitting her brows. “What's wrong?”
Dohalim’s mind stutters. Did she not speak to him? Was he imagining it? She doesn’t appear to be deceiving him, nor is she the type to pull such a trick…
Kisara tilts her head at him, confused. Waiting.
Realizing he has yet to reply, Dohalim manages to keep his voice even as he says, “Forgive me, I thought I heard something. Pay me no heed.”
He turns his back to her and is suddenly keenly aware of each breath he takes. Why is he trembling all of a sudden? Why is his heart pounding so rapidly?
“Dohalim?” He barely registers Kisara’s concern. “Is something…?”
In the recesses of his being, the earth master core thrums with a familiar nervous energy that makes his blood run cold.
Dohalim shoots to his feet, ignoring the pins and needles that dart up his legs. He must leave. Now.
If he says something to pardon himself, it drowns amidst the screams. His head is pounding. It’s too loud here. He moves with no destination, other than away. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere he can compose himself in solitude.
“Running again?”
“It’s all he knows.”
Laughter surrounds him, mocks him. Dohalim roughly shakes his head, clasping his hands over his ears.
We’re talking to you.
Coward. Coward.
Coward. Coward.
They chant, and chant, and chant, like a mantra, bringing him to his knees. He drops his head, trying to shut them out. He would plead for them to stop, were he not busy gasping for air.
Hands grasp his shoulders. He squeezes his eyes shut. He refuses to lift his head. Something grabs his wrists. They wrench his hands from his ears. Unable to hide, Dohalim panics, struggling to free himself, begging, begging for everything to stop.
The world closes around him.
He can’t breathe.
“—halim! Please, listen to me—”
Kisara’s voice all but drowns in the haze. Dohalim holds onto it like a lifeline.
“—not going to hurt you. Breathe, Dohalim…”
He listens.
“Inhale…”
Sucks in air through his teeth.
“Exhale…”
Releases a shaky breath.
“Easy, easy… Just like that. You’re safe. It’s alright.”
Following the gentle instructions, gradually, Dohalim feels himself calm down. His heart rate begins to settle. His senses start to return, enough to recognize Kisara’s presence sitting before him, supporting him as she always does.
“You’re okay,” she soothes. “You’re okay.”
He’s not sure how long he sits there, simply breathing in and out. How long he watches, as Kisara’s hands hold his own, squeezing them until the trembling stops. The worst of his attack has passed, but he cannot bring himself to move.
“Feeling better?” Kisara asks.
“I… yes.” Dohalim gently pulls his hands back into his lap, unable to meet her gaze. “Forgive me. You must tire of seeing me like this.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize.” The tenderness in her voice makes his heart ache. “What happened? We were just sitting by the fire and you… Did something frighten you?”
Dohalim searches for the words to explain his outburst, but finds that he can’t voice them without a certain degree of shame. How is he going to explain that he almost lost control of his master core just recalling a memory of someone screaming?
“Do you recall our encounter with the Dark Wings member in the plaza?” he asks.
Kisara appears to think. “The one right before we left for camp?”
Dohalim nods. “It has been weighing on my mind ever since we set foot outside of Niez. With all the zeugles we were preoccupied with fighting, I suppose I never had a chance to process it until now. It… brought back memories of that day.”
“The day you lost your friend?”
“No. The day you lost your brother.”
A beat passes. “Oh,” Kisara says.
“I fear I will be a burden on this journey if this becomes a common occurrence,” Dohalim continues. Suffering runs rampant across the entirety of Dahna, after all. He cannot escape it, nor can he eradicate it completely.
Realizing Kisara has yet to reply, he turns to her. Her eyes are downcast, shining with grief, and while her expression is duller than the one she wore that day in the quarry, there’s enough in it that Dohalim knows her wounds are still fresh. He chides himself for his insensitivity.
“My apologies… No doubt you are haunted by the events of that day more than I could hope to imagine.”
From the corners of his vision, Dohalim watches as Kisara stands and makes her way to his side, folding her legs underneath her in a position much like his own. “If I said I was over everything that happened, it would be a heinous lie,” she murmurs. “I just… didn’t know it afflicted you this much as well.”
Sighing, she takes out one of her possessions—a bracelet, from what Dohalim can make out in the darkness. It’s not extravagant in the slightest, but clearly such a thing belies its importance to Kisara, given the way she looks at it. A keepsake of her brother’s, perhaps.
“I just… I can’t stop thinking about what I could have done differently. I pushed Migal away for so long. I thought he betrayed me. I can’t even remember why I didn’t believe him back then, and now…” She grips the bracelet with both hands, pressing it close to her chest. “Now I can’t even apologize to him.”
“You were led to believe he tried to kill me. That’s what broke your trust in him, is it not? You mustn’t blame yourself, Kisara. The fault is mine and mine alone.” Dohalim grips his shoulder, curling in on himself. “As a lord, my utmost responsibility was the safety of my people. If I hadn’t turned a blind eye to my realm’s problems—if I hadn’t led you to believe I was as righteous as you thought—your brother would still be alive today.”
Even when the man was a member of the Elde Menancian guard, Migal displayed nothing but pride for his country and hope for what it could be. Up until his last breath, he was a noble, courageous individual. He did not deserve the fate that was bestowed upon him. If it was in his power, Dohalim would trade his life for Migal’s in an instant.
“If you desired to slay me right here,” Dohalim says, “I would not fight it.”
Kisara winces. “Don’t say such things. Killing you wouldn’t bring him back.”
“It is not about bringing him back,” he murmurs. “It is about bringing you peace.”
“No,” Kisara snaps, fixing him with a glare. “I don’t want to kill you, and you’re wrong if you think doing so will give me peace. I’m tired of all the death. I already lost Migal, I can’t…” Shaking her head, whatever feelings of fury had seized her seem to deflate along with her shoulders. “Listen to me. I have no desire to hurt you. And not just because we’re allies with a common goal. I still care about you, Dohalim. So please, don’t speak about your life with such little disregard again.”
Dohalim… doesn’t understand. He searches her face for anything that betrays the sincerity in her voice, but finds nothing. Revulsion washes over him in waves.
“How can you be so…” He swallows. “How can you look at me and not despise me with every fiber of your being?”
For a moment, Kisara simply stares at him. Lowers her gaze to the bracelet between her fingers. She traces her thumb along the wavy pattern engraved onto the side. Dohalim’s eyes track the motion.
“I’ve had some time to think about everything that happened,” she says. “I can hardly blame you for being ignorant of Kelzalik’s actions, seeing as I was much the same. And yes, while you never shared my ideals of coexistence like I thought you had… in the end, does it really matter?”
Dohalim blinks. “What do you mean, ‘does it matter’? How could it not? The people of Menancia put their faith in me for that very reason!” Upon hearing his voice echo throughout the trees, he attempts to compose himself before continuing. “Have you forgotten what I said? All I cared about was distancing myself from the pain of others so that I could escape from my own. In doing so, I took advantage of everyone’s trust.” He lowers his gaze. “Yours most of all.”
“And yet none of that changes the fact that seven years ago, you saved me,” Kisara continues, unperturbed at his outburst. “If you hadn’t done what you did, I would still be a slave trapped in a living hell. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be human, until you came along. Knowing why you did what you did doesn’t erase the gratitude I feel for you. I realize that now.”
When Dohalim first met Kisara, she was in a dark place, fueled by anger and the raw instinct to survive. Observing her now, he never would have imagined such a radiant soul was once tainted by such anguish. But can he truly take the credit for dispelling her despair? What good was his good deed, if he did it not for her, but for himself?
And yet, Kisara’s reply is not an assortment of pretty words to make him feel better. She speaks from the heart. Her bleeding, idealistic heart.
No matter how sick her words make him feel, he doesn’t have a say in where she places her conviction.
“If that is how you truly feel, then I have no place to judge your feelings on the matter,” he acquiesces. “But please, just remember… You do not owe me anything.”
She smiles. “I know, Dohalim.”
In a smaller voice, Dohalim says, “Thank you for your aid, Kisara. Your presence never fails to comfort me.”
“Anytime,” Kisara promises. “I know things are different between us now, but… I’m still here for you, okay? Please don’t forget that.”
Dohalim simply nods, not trusting his voice to break upon replying.
“Now then.” Kisara gets to her feet, dusting off the leaves that cling to her armor. “If you're feeling better, shall we head back?”
Palm outstretched, she looks at Dohalim expectantly. He places his hand in hers, and allows her to pull him up.
Things are different between them now, but Kisara is still here for him. It’s better than he deserves and more than he could ask for. If there is a version of him out there that is worthy of Kisara’s compassion, he will simply just have to find it.