Zero

Rest and Resolution

ARTHUR

Staring at the water was like looking at a stranger. Although my body had remained relatively unchanged, the reflection of my face was barely recognizable compared to the one I saw when I first woke up in the Relictombs.

My golden eyes appeared dull and listless, lacking in their usual luster. Languid yellow slits regarded me vacantly while my porcelain skin was a shade darker around the corners. It resembled the hollow sockets of the soldiers experimented on by the Vritra—I felt equally dead inside too.

Varay submerged herself in one of the many pools behind me and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. The occasional sound of her subtle vibrations echoed throughout the steam-filled cave which wafted from the natural hot springs.

"Sure you don't want a new arm? I think it might suit you."

"It's fine," I said, waving my newly formed hand.

"Well, you'd probably have a hard time holding a sword properly. It would hamper your grip too, I suppose."

I extended my arm out and held up a very particular finger.

Varay offered an affronted chortle. "Sorry."

She was talkative. More so than usual. Not that it was a bad thing. Maybe it was the blissful warmth. Or perhaps it was just a distraction, a coping mechanism. I didn't fault her for it, nor were her unsolicited jabs unappreciated. The two went both ways, after all.

"How did you end up like that, anyway?"

I leaned my head on the soft cushion of moss covering the edge. "I'm not exactly sure myself. All I know is that when we were fighting the Scythes, Sylvie—my bond—sacrificed herself in my stead. The next thing I knew, I found myself in Alacrya looking like this."

Varay hummed thoughtfully. "She must have cared for you greatly."

I scoffed. "Undeserving as I am."

The image of her fading features came to mind. As did the pain of her gentle parting.

"I guess that makes two of us." There was an irrefutable finality to her words that made me squirm in my seat. The lances had struggled from what I've heard. Of course they did, they were fighting a losing war. I wasn't privy to the details, but I could tell from a glance that they've endured tremendously. Far too much for any sane person to come out unscathed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get there in time," I said. "For not being there when you needed me."

"None of us would have survived if you didn't arrive at all."

I lowered myself until I felt the water below my chin. "I'm sorry for abandoning you back then as well."

There was a long pause before she answered. "You only did what you thought was right. I would have done the same."

A grave sense of guilt—bigger than the body of water I was in—broke out of me like a dam. I held myself closer as if to keep it from overflowing.

"I was too reckless. Tunnel visioned."

Memories of the soldiers under my command flashed in my mind. The battle at Etistin. The mages at the wall. The massacre at the shore. In a moment of clarity, I saw all of their faces. Their deaths seeped into my consciousness like caustic poison, eroding every barrier I've built up since the start of the war. I tried to bury them away, but they kept coming back, haunting me, like an apparition.

"We aren't exempt from either crime." I felt the tragic notes in her voice, the sullen depths of her inner turmoil. "You're not that special. Despite all the mystical powers you possess. Don't dwell on it."