It had been a few days or maybe more. Time blurred in the dim light of the forest lodge, where the shadows seemed to stretch longer with each passing hour. My enthusiasm for assassinations, once a fiery drive that propelled me through the darkest of tasks, was now a smoldering ember, barely alive. Every piece of news from the city, delivered by wary couriers or whispered through the trees, chipped away at what little resolve I had left. The weight of what I had done pressed down on me, heavier than the damp air of the forest.

  The situation in the capital was dire. Parts of the city had been pacified, the rebellion crushed under the boot of the city guard, but the denser areas—like the docks—remained fortified strongholds, their barricades holding firm against the onslaught. The rebels, desperate and cornered, fought with a ferocity that surprised even me. And now, an army division was marching toward the capital, their arrival promising nothing but more bloodshed. I had wanted change, a reckoning, but this... this was a massacre.

  I sat by the cracked window of the lodge, staring out at the endless sea of trees, their branches swaying like accusing fingers. My thoughts were a storm, relentless and unforgiving. What was I waiting for? Redemption? Absolution? Neither would come. The more I lingered in this limbo, the more the guilt consumed at me, a ravenous beast that feasted on my conscience. My face was too recognizable, my powers too distinct. I was a prisoner of my own making, trapped between the forest and the city, between action and inaction.

  Home. The word surfaced in my mind like a lifeline, unexpected and yet so obvious. Why hadn’t I considered it before? Malachor, with its towering spires and ancient halls, its people who still might welcome me despite my actions. We had gathered more than enough intel, and though I had initially feared jeopardizing the fragile treaty between Malachor and the elves, surely they could see now that I had done everything in my power to make it work. And yet, it had all unraveled. Perhaps distance from this place, from the ashes and the blood, would do me some good.

  Perhaps I could find a way to live with myself, far from the echoes of my actions, far from the blood and the flames that haunted my every thought. But returning... returning would mean facing her. Looking into her eyes, those eyes that had always seen through my jokes, my lies, my bravado. Would she see something different now? Would she see the monster I had become, the one who had unleashed chaos and death upon the city? Or worse, would she see the same man she had always known, now laid bare, his flaws and failures exposed for what they truly were?

  Would she look at me differently? Would her gaze, once filled with trust and something deeper, now carry the weight of disappointment, of betrayal? I couldn’t help but wonder: would I have acted differently if she had been there? If her presence, her wisdom, her quiet strength had been by my side, would I have chosen a different path? Would I have seen the consequences before it was too late?

  I went in search of Amra, though it wasn’t much of a search, the lodge was small, its wooden walls closing in on me with every step. I found her in the dimly lit common room, deep in conversation with Corvin. His voice was low, measured, while hers carried that sharp edge of determination I had come to know so well. They both turned as I approached, and for a moment, the weight of their gazes made me hesitate. But I couldn’t afford to second-guess myself now.

  “We need to talk,” I said, my eyes locking onto Amra’s. She held my gaze for a moment, her expression unreadable, before glancing back at Corvin. He gave a slight nod, his face betraying nothing, and without a word, Amra rose from her seat and followed me.

  We moved through the lodge in silence, the creak of the floorboards beneath our feet the only sound. The air inside felt heavy, suffocating, and I needed space to breathe, to think. I led her outside, where the forest stretched endlessly around us, its shadows offering a semblance of privacy and the silent ambiance, a stark contrast to the chaos of my thoughts.

  When she stopped and turned to face me, the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I think we should go back home.”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion and something else I couldn’t quite place. Slowly, she reached out and placed a hand on my elbow, her touch grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. “I know you’re taking this hard,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And to be perfectly honest, I’d be worried if you weren’t. But please, just hear me out first.”

  I stiffened, bracing myself. Great, a lecture. Probably about the importance of the mission, the greater good, or some other ideal that felt hollow now. “What’s there to talk about?” I snapped, pulling away slightly. “We more than did our part. The rest of it was always unrealistic. A dream. You know that as well as I do.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but her voice remained calm, steady. “Unrealistic or not, it’s not just about the mission anymore. It’s about what happens next. What we do now. Running back home won’t change what’s already done. And it won’t help the people who are still out there, fighting because of what we started.”

  “Please,” I scoffed, my voice dripping with bitterness. “As if you actually care about the humans. It’s clear this is personal for you. If it weren’t, we would have left by now, and I wouldn’t have…”

  She cut me off before I could finish, her voice sharp and unyielding. “What? So now I’m to blame for your actions?”

  “No!” I snapped, exhaling forcefully, my frustration bubbling over. “I guess people are always looking for ways to shift the blame away from themselves. Clearly, I’m no different,” I admitted, my tone sheepish, the fight draining out of me.

  She paused, her gaze steady but her eyes distant, as if gathering her thoughts. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, but no less intense. “Yes, it is personal for me. Both of my sons were killed by his hand. The only way I could accept their deaths was to decide that either I would die, or he would. There is no middle ground.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “At least you’re honest, though I would have thought elves were more pragmatic.” I muttered, though I regretted it immediately.

  Her eyes flashed, and for the first time, I saw a crack in her usual composure. “It’s easy to be pragmatic when the deaths are just numbers on a page,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’ll see, in time. With your powers, if you survive this demi-god, many more lives will be in your hands. And after every decision, it will only get easier to make the next one. Until one day, when you lose someone close to you. Then you’ll find out who you truly are. And only then can you judge me.”

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  I forced myself to stay silent. What could I possibly say to that? There were no words to bridge the chasm her confession had opened between us. To my relief, it didn’t take her long to compose herself, her mask of calm slipping back into place as if it had never faltered. Only then did I dare to speak again. “I can’t just stand here doing nothing. All it does is force me to relive my decisions, and every time, I find new ways I should have done better.”

  She nodded, her expression unreadable. “We’re close to a new plan, one that accounts for the recent changes. And I’ve convinced them to let you join.”

  I scoffed, unable to hide my bitterness. “Like they have a snowball’s chance in hell of killing him without me.”

  Her gaze hardened, but her voice remained steady. “Look, you took a chance. If it had worked, we would have all patted you on the back. But more often than not, things go sideways. And the more power you have, the more disastrous the consequences.”

  Great. Just great. As if I didn’t already know that with great power comes great responsibility. But did I really? It’s one thing to read about it, to nod along with the wisdom of some pop-culture quote. It’s another thing entirely to live it, to feel the weight of your mistakes crushing you with every breath. “Let’s do something, anything, because I can’t stay here,” I said, my voice tight with desperation.

  “Come,” she said, turning toward the lodge. “Let’s get you up to speed.”

  Turns out, they were all fucking hypocrites. They were all so high and mighty, so quick to condemn me for screwing up, and yet their grand plan hinged entirely on me. The idea was simple: I would make an appearance at the docks, throw a few lightning bolts into the air, and reignite the revolutionary spirit. The goal was to draw as much of the garrison as possible into a confrontation, committing them to weaken the demi-god’s forces. A lot of innocent lives would be lost. It was a brutal, calculated move, and it took every ounce of my patience and composure not to portal out of there that very second.

  They cloaked their ruthlessness in noble words, but at the end of the day, they were willing to do whatever it took to win, then blame the guy who did it to make themselves feel better.

  ─── ????? ───

  We left before dawn, the forest still shrouded in a heavy, misty darkness that clung to the trees like a second skin. The air was cold as ever, biting at my lungs with every breath, but it did little to clear the fog in my mind. Amra led the way, her movements silent and precise, while I followed, my thoughts churning with a mix of dread and determination. The others trailed behind, a small group of rebels who had somehow decided to trust me again or at least tolerate me for the sake of the plan. By the time the sun had climbed high enough to cast its pale light over the city walls, we were already slipping through the gates.

  The city was a shadow of what it had been. The chaos I had ignited was regressing, but the scars it left behind were everywhere: shattered windows, scorched buildings, and streets littered with debris. The gates, once heavily guarded, were now barely defended. The few guards who remained were distracted, weary, and easy to avoid. Those who weren’t so lucky were swiftly ambushed by our group, their bodies dragged into alleys to keep our presence hidden for as long as possible. Each encounter was quick and brutal, a necessary evil to sow the chaos we needed. I tried not to think about the faces of the guards as they fell, but their wide, panicked eyes lingered in my mind.

  By the time we reached the docks, the sun was high, casting a harsh light over the devastation. The market square, once bustling with life, told a grim story. The ground was littered with rubble, shattered stalls, broken crates, and chunks of stone torn from nearby buildings. Dark stains of blood marred the cobblestones, though thankfully the bodies had been cleared away. I wasn’t sure if that was a mercy or not.

  People were already gathering, their faces a mix of hope, fear, and anger. They perched on the remnants of buildings, crouched in alleys, and huddled in the shadows, their eyes fixed on the square. Word had spread quickly, as it always did in times like these. The promise of a rally, of defiance, had drawn them out of hiding. More were arriving by the minute, their numbers swelling despite the risk. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, like the calm before a storm.

  Amra nudged me, her voice low and urgent. “Hurry. The meeting hasn’t gone unnoticed. It’s only a matter of time before the guards come to break it up.”

  I nodded, my throat tight. There was no time to second-guess myself, no time to dwell on the consequences. As I stepped into the square, the weight of every eye on me felt like a physical force. The crowd was silent, waiting, their collective breath held. I raised my hands, feeling the familiar crackle of energy building in my palms. At least time I knew what I was doing.

  The first bolt of lightning tore through the sky with a deafening crack, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

  The noise died down immediately, the crowd falling into a tense, expectant silence. Every eye was fixed on me, their gazes piercing and intense in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I had expected to see hatred, resentment, or even fear staring back at me. After all, I was the one who had set this chaos into motion. But instead, there was only hope. A raw, desperate hope that burned brighter than the fires still smoldering in the ruins around us.

  I was grateful for that, though it caught me off guard. My vision blurred for a moment, my eyes misting over as I struggled to focus on the sea of faces before me. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that I didn’t know what to say. Usually, I was great at improvisation, spinning words like a bard at a tavern. But this wasn’t some fun little adventure anymore. This was life and death, and it felt like it demanded something more serious, more profound. And yet, my mind was blank. Maybe that’s why people prepared speeches in advance.

  Well, when in doubt, keep it simple and give the people what they want.

  I activated the voice spell, the magic amplifying my words so they carried across the square. After a deep breath, I raised my eyes and scanned the crowd. Only then did I speak, my voice steady but heavy with emotion. “From your eyes, I see that you have suffered. I see that you have lost friends, family, and homes. I’m not here to tell you that things will get better.”

  I paused, letting the weight of those words sink in. The silence was deafening, the crowd hanging on every word. “But I will never ask more from you than I am willing to give myself. Tonight, I will face the Emperor. For better or worse, only one of us will be alive when the sun rises.”

  A ripple of murmurs spread through the square, low and uncertain. I pressed on, my voice growing stronger. “As you have faced adversaries more powerful than yourselves, so will I tonight.”

  The murmurs grew louder, a current of energy building in the crowd. I could feel it, the spark of defiance, the ember of hope that had been buried under ash and despair. I raised my voice, letting it ring out across the square. “Friends… no, brothers and sisters! We will not go quietly into the night. We will not surrender. We will fight, and we will survive!”

  With that, I threw a lightning bolt into the sky, the crack of thunder splitting the air like a war cry. The crowd erupted, their cheers and shouts echoing off the crumbling buildings. The energy was electric, palpable, and for a moment, it felt like we might actually win.

  Okay, so maybe I borrowed a few lines here and there, but judging by the noise, it did its part. The people were fired up, their spirits reignited. And as I stood there, watching them rally, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope myself.