Chapter 13

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I tuck my arms tight against my chest and relish in the cold breeze sweeping through my hair. Although the air is steadily flowing through my lungs and my mind is clear, panic drags me under. Exhaustion clogs my every step out towards the cliffsides and through the streets of fluttering candles and muttered conversation from the rebels still awake.

Most are on guard duty, others can't find the time to sleep without going through the proper arrangements for the next day. There are too many things to plan, it's possible Bren is awake, too. But the last thing I need is him aware of the fact that I've slipped from my control again and am wandering the empty streets of Arego in search of fresh air.

Through these nightmares, there are many versions of fresh air. Not always does it contain taking a deep breath and feeling the cold air pool in my lungs. Often times, it's visiting my old room and sitting on the edge of the bed in the silence, or visiting the community kitchens in search of one last scrap of food after exhausting so much energy to panic in the first place.

Sometimes, fresh air is lying in Renit's arms and listening to the quiet beat of his heart—slowing down after facing that panic with me once again. I'm not the only one to go through that; Renit watches it happen and doesn't know what to do. Whether he should touch me or not, reassure me, use his power to remind me of the world around me...he still has trouble. I can't say I blame him for that fault.

I don't know where I'm going or what I plan on doing tonight. For now, I'll stroll through Arego and visit the part damaged the most by flame. The buildings are near crumbling after their interior was ruined that night and Bren has said, more than once, that through their ways of searching and picking through, hardly anything is salvageable.

It's not until I reach a silent street corner looking out towards the outskirts of Arego and the direction of Mailan that I hear someone clear their throat. I stop in my tracks, looking into the dark, but find nothing. Then, a cloth smacks against my face and I look up to find Tesha sitting on the rooftop of an intact building, one leg swung over the edge and her other, tucked tight against her chest.

"What are you doing?" I question. The moonlight is her backdrop; her dark hair glistens with the ring of light around her scalp.

"Someone has to keep watch." She points to the wooden ladder resting against the side of the stone building and jerks her chin at the cloth. "Bring that back. It's mine."

I look down at the piece of cloth in my hands and find the design is similar to the one Akeno used to own. Immediately, my heart sinks. This is the last she has of him, a tattered cloth covered in dirt stains towards the edges and frayed along one side. Through terrible needle-work, she attempted to stitch a tear back together but ended up with crumpled fabric and a loose string that doesn't fit the rest of the design.

The blues and yellows are dull, their spirals have faded, and Akeno is quickly fading from it. I remember forcing the blade through his abdomen and relishing in the sight of a blood-covered sword coming out the other end. He was gentle, kind, respectful...and I killed him. Akeno was merely the first on a long list of regrets I'll never have the strength to forget.

His past...it'll never be avenged. Never be told. Through ways of fate, Tesha and Akeno found themselves side by side as branches for Bren's protection. Together, they paved the way for future rebels and gave what knowledge they had to those just starting out. The wide-eyed innocents, that was Akeno's specialty. He was soft enough, his hand was gentle, and yet he was the first to die.

Bracing my hands on the rungs of the ladder, I look up and find Tesha staring straight ahead. Not at me, not at the ladder she wants to kick out from underneath me, but the empty, dark trail towards Mailan.

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