Skai Prisa - English version

Chapter 8

I draw my sword from the Trikru man's chest. Blood and sweat cover me after a close battle. It seems like yesterday was the first time I murdered someone. I spent whole nights trying to control my crying and forget about what happened. Trying not to affect me so much, after all he had murdered the bitter witch. Questions like if he have family or friends torment me. The same doubts come to my mind after sheathing my sword. All these soldiers that I killed in battle, will they have someone waiting for them at home?

I move those ideas to the bottom of my mind. I did what I had to do. My only consolation is that it is them or me, and I much prefer my life. It is not my first battle, but it has not gotten easier over time as I have hoped. Every death haunts me in dreams, they try to take revenge for my daring to steal something as precious as life.

In the distance I saw a woman approaching Darius, who has become war chief and our commanding general after the death of the bitter witch. I move back the pain of her death and take my bow. Nomon gave it to me before going to war. I have decorated it with strokes on the wood made by hand, by me. I have also tied some ribbons to it. It was made to my measure, it is the perfect bow.

I aim and shoot. The arrow sticks to her throat and she dies before she can do my general any harm. I have become his second, and one of his best warriors. To occupy my mind and not think about my demons I have dedicated myself to train harder, to do as many tasks as possible. Everything to keep my mind occupied, not to think about my problems.

Mom sends me letters supporting me, but they have long ceased to be a comfort. Two years away from her side will soon be completed. Two years that have changed me. I have distanced myself from ai nomon, I avoid Roan and spend more than five minutes in the same room, I train whenever I can and I kill in cold blood. I am physically unrecognizable too. My body continues its development. I grow in height and my figure is modeled.

But what I have changed the most is the protruding scar that runs from the corner of my right lip to my clavicle on the same side. It's what the first man I murdered made me. When I woke up in the hospital tent, the healer said they would give me stitches, but I refused. Roan argued with me that it was for the best, but I didn't desist. Finally they bandaged me so that I would not continue to bleed.

The result is this outstanding scar on my features. Nobody understands why I wanted to keep it, with the stitches it would hardly have been noticed. For me it is a reminder of many things, how betrayal feels, how people are not what they seem and how it feels to kill someone.

Neither are pretty memories, but I don't want them to be either. This scar marks the day that Clarke died and Skai Prisa was born. With each battle I lose my humanity even more. I walk away from my loved ones, hurting not only them but also myself in the process. I feel broken and the adrenaline of war is the only thing that excites me.

I look up and search the crowd for Roan. We will be in a bad moment of our relationship, but he is still my brother and I don't even want his death. I don't need to lose someone else. Panic surrounds me when I can't find him in the crowd. We have won, the few surviving soldiers are chained to be taken as prisoners of war, but Roan does not appear.

I run between the bodies, trying to find him. With each face that I recognize or not, I despair even more. Trikru soldiers and Azgeda compatriots, but not my brother. I start screaming his name and ask everyone I meet if they have seen him. Nobody. Absolutely no one knows where it is. Pure panic invades me, I must find him. Even if he no longer breathes, I must.

"Roan!" I keep shouting his name in a loop, wishing he heard me.

I stumble across the entire battlefield, about to give up when I hear it. It's just a whimper, but it's there. I call his name again and the moan responds again. I run to where I think it is and the noise gets louder.