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Chapter Forty-Three

Annora

After we set up camp just beyond a sparse grove of trees two days later, I climb to the top of a hill overlooking another village. My chest tightens as I gaze down at the cluster of homes nestled peacefully below. Wisps of smoke rise from chimneys, and people move about.

They have no idea what’s coming.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the darkness behind them offers no escape. The memories still sear my mind.

A shudder ripples through me as I hug my arms against my body.

Does Jasce know what I’ve done? Would he still look at me the same if he did?

I turn away from the village and make my way down the opposite side of the hill. Near the bottom, I catch a glimpse of shimmering water in the distance.

I hurry to the small oasis and tear at the fastenings of my clothes, shedding layers. Fabrics pile at my feet until there’s nothing left between me and the cold embrace of the water.

I wade in, the water biting at my ankles, then my knees, then my waist. The oasis swallows me whole as I sink beneath the surface. Silence envelops me, a muffled world where the weight of my sins presses down on me.

No. No. No!

I break the surface and claw at my arms, scrubbing furiously. Dirt loosens under my nails, but it’s not enough. I rub harder and harder until my skin turns red and raw.

Still, it’s not enough.

Nothing will ever be enough again!

Desperate, I plunge beneath the surface, holding myself there, trying to drown the memories, but they cling to me like leeches.

Panic ripples through me as I resurface and scream, startling a flock of birds flying overhead.

My legs give out, and I sink into the water up to my shoulders. I close my eyes, letting the water buoy me. For a moment, I imagine drifting away, carried to a place where the memories can’t follow me, but when I open my eyes, the same bruised sky stares back at me.

I hurry to the shore and gather my clothes, pulling them on. The damp fabric clings to my skin as I run back to camp.

Jagged breaths escape me as I reach my tent and shove the flap aside, slipping inside before anyone can stop me. My knees buckle, and I sink to the ground. I press my palms flat against the dirt, trying to steady the tremor in my hands.

But the shaking won’t stop.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the images are immediate and vivid.

Why can’t I make it stop?

Their faces.

A child clutching a wooden toy.

An old woman reaching for her grandchild.

A man trying to shield his wife.

The memories splinter and slice through me like shards of broken glass. The tent walls press closer.

What have I become?

The question rattles in my skull like loose stones. I touch my forehead to the ground, trying to anchor myself to something solid, something real. But reality has become a nightmare I can’t wake from.

Red. Everything is red.

Crimson flames dance behind my eyelids. They’re not just memories anymore. They’re part of me now, branded into my soul.

I dig my fingers deeper into the earth, imagining I could burrow beneath it, hide from what I’ve done, but there’s no hiding from this. No washing away these stains.

A sob wells up in my throat, but I swallow it down.

How did it come to this?

A gust of wind rattles the tent, the only hint of the world continuing outside these fragile walls. Part of me wants to burst outside, to run until my legs give way, and I collapse under an open sky.

But there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide from myself.

I pull the blanket from the bed, wrap it around my shoulders, and bury my face in the rough fabric. It smells faintly of campfire smoke and something else—something familiar. For a moment, I imagine it’s Jasce’s scent.

“Jasce,” I whisper. “I need you so much.”