The Last Sin

Dugan dropped the body he was dragging and whipped his head around. His eyes met mine. For the first time, they were not calm. After tense moments, his shoulders sagged, and composure returned to his face. Thor waddled over to him. Dugan rested his hand on the animal’s forehead. When he released the boar, Thor trotted off to the opposite side of the camp, sniffing the air. Dugan walked behind him. Isla and I followed.

It wasn't long before we saw bodies of beastkin littering the woods. They had tried to ambush Castille and it ended poorly.

Thor continued deeper into the woods. We followed, our hope and fear balanced on a knife's edge. From the looks of things, Castille had performed a fighting retreat, giving up ground to avoid being surrounded while punishing the beastkin that trailed after her. According to Gren, this tactic would not work against disciplined enemies. Luckily, beastkin were not disciplined.

As I stepped over a severed arm, Thor grunted louder. A worn breastplate reflected moonlight in the distance. Castille’s body sat slumped against a tree, four beastkin at her feet. Dugan charged forward in a full sprint, followed by Isla and Thor.

I hung back.

Another friend dead.

I’m I cursed?

How many people would I lose?

My slow walk to her body helped me see the truth; Castille had saved our lives. There were two groups of beastkin raiders. Without her drawing away this second group, we would have been attacked from behind while we fought in the woods.

I counted them as I walked closer; anything to keep my mind off what was waiting for me ahead.

Five.

Eight.

Twelve.

Twelve beastkin, including the ones around her.

Castille’s right eye was swollen shut. Her face and arms were covered in cuts and bruises. As I walked up beside Isla, my eyes were drawn to two things: the gushing spear wound below her breastplate and the sword clenched in her hand, even in death.

Dugan was at her side, pressing his thick fingers against her neck to check for a pulse. He inhaled, turning toward us with wide, awe-struck eyes.

She’s still alive!

Isla threw down her staff as she rushed to Castille's other side.

"I’m not great at healing, but I can try. Dugan, together?"

He nodded.

They each put a hand on Castille's head, closing their eyes to concentrate. The minor cuts on Castille's arms closed, the swelling around her right eye reduced, but the spear wound below her gut was still bleeding. It wasn’t enough.

I needed to do something, but what? I was no healer. I was, as Sin made me, a weapon. I twisted out my dagger, holding it in both hands.

No.

A weapon is just a tool, and a tool has utility.

I raised the dagger in my left hand and unleashed my will.

Please let this work.

My hands burned. The smell of ash filled my nostrils. I was in Jacob’s bedroom again, taking my last shuddering breaths.

No.

Those were not my memories. I’m in the woods right now. In front of someone, I can save.

My dagger glowed a bright red, a beacon in the dark. I pressed the flat of the blade against Castille's spear wound, cauterizing it to stop the bleeding.

Castille's eyes snapped open as she screamed at the searing pain. I pulled my dagger back. Dugan and Isla stopped to look down at the wounded warrior.

She looked around like a wild animal before settling her eyes on me, Isla, and Dugan. As she did, the tension left her shoulders, and she let her head fall back against the tree.

"That's the last time I go for a walk."

Isla wrapped her arms around Castille, crying into the crook of her neck as the older woman patted her back with a free hand. Castille's eyes shifted to me and the red-hot dagger in my hand.

"Nice trick. Does that mean you won't burn down our next camp?"

"If I figure out how to turn it off."

She smirked and then coughed up blood.

Dugan wiped the blood from her lips and rested his hand on the top of her head, continuing the healing. Their eyes met, and another silent conversation passed between them.

I laughed to myself as I collapsed on the forest floor. Between last night, the ambush and my new trick, I’d used too much will. I didn’t mind. Castille was alive.

I scratched Thor’s head as he waddled over to me.

Raising my dagger high, I turned it over in my hand as it cooled.

Maybe there was more to being a weapon.