Fire in Zoe`s eyes and the roots of her pepper-grey hair are aflame and her pupils are endless dark gun-barrels but I won`t look at her face, won`t look, every time I think about her or the others or all of them I just see you, and I see mom, and I hear dad`s voice and he`s sobbing, there`s nothing we can do, but -

　　I did everything I could do -

　　I didn`t do anything -

　　I did everything right, and this is where I ended up -

　　Whose memory is this Kamila Hilda Zoe Plato Mom Eksha Parshir Ofer Karla

　　 Who in god`s name is Karla, what are you talking about

　　 About time you started listening to

　　Don`t have to listen to anything you

　　Did everything right did everything right why are my eyes burning why can`t I see anything but kids kids who want to kill me

　　 AND WHY DO YOU THINK THAT IS HUH

　　 What get out of

　　 About time you started listening to

　　Aleks, what are you doing?

　　-What Aleks knows

　　That quiet summer evening, 244 YT: By a homestead in the Wanderer`s Vale

　　 Passing over the countryside, Zoe and the small team of saboteurs with which she ran were able to make good time. If they were lucky, they`d reach the large Valer city in a matter of days, and if they were even more lucky they`d slip in unnoticed without getting killed by sentries or ratted out by some wandering citizen.

　　 Their vehicles were slow, but for the steep cost of that slowness they gained the advantage of stealth and quiet. Thus far their journey over the countryside had been an easy one - by rivers they`d gone, only occasionally dragging the boats ashore and setting their wheels up so that they could be ridden - slowly, quietly - over marshes and hills. Only a few times did they pass by villages along the river that took them north, a river for which they had no right name. The land surrounding the river was mostly marshy, even at the height of summer, even though the moon was waning and the season should not have been a flood-laden one. It was little wonder there were so few villages in the area just around - the kind of grain they grew up here wasn`t suited to such wetness. They`d carried that grain up north from Gaurlante long ago, the castoffs of the real Refuges to the south. Up there, so little remained of the old world and yet so much.

　　 Further out, though, there were towns. Far out enough that the saboteurs did not have to worry too much about being spotted. On the few occasions when they passed villages that came close to the riverside, they simply donned their wide-brimmed hats and their long coats and spoke more quietly among themselves, and so they became Valers until they had gone out of view.

　　 The vast swaths of the Vale between, however, were eerily empty of people. They were not silent stretches of land - the wilderness is far from silent, perhaps louder even than the din of the town at times. At all hours, insects sang in the trees and in the swamps and wetlands and birds, flitting from blooming branch to blooming branch, called out in song for their mates. Occasionally a larger shadow passed over and the songs went quite for a while. The further from town that the party went, the heavier, warmer and muggier the air became. Zoe could feel for herself why the Vale`s villages were spaced so far apart - it was just like the last time she`d been here. The spaces in between were oppressive to her senses, imposing a malaise and fatigue on her and the others. But for Zoe, it was somewhat mitigated by the knowledge that it would be over sooner than before. Their destination was not far.

　　 A couple of times during the journey, she and her saboteurs made camp along the banks of the river. It was tense on those nights, even though they felt they were in the middle of a deserted landscape. Might there be some wandering Valer warrior, some wilderness ranger, who would happen upon their camp and attack them? It never happened, yet the stories these soldiers had been weaned on as babies - stories of cultists with their strange magic and archaic-minded savages assailing the innocent in the night - kept them all a little on edge. It helped keep them awake for their shifts on watch.

　　 Zoe slept soundly as a rock, herself.

　　 On the fifth day of journeying downriver, the party passed by a riverside house. It was the same sort of construction as the other Vale homesteads - clay and stone for permanent structures such as the house, because it was the only thing that could stand up against the oppressive wet heat of this place. Wooden buildings would break down and rot eventually - even if it took years for them to fail, at least clay was plentiful. Fields and pasture stretched out beyond the house. Barleycorn and millet, the aboveground belladonna sprouts of potatoes and the leaves of carrots. Though the air was muggy even here and the ground always a little too moist, this homestead`s fields looked to be doing quite well this season.

　　 And there was something stranger still - hanging from the upper window of the house. Black and red and gold, an Invictan banner of battle. Catia Severo was the first to notice the banner, and called out in half-alarm and half-joy. "Our banner! It`s hanging from this house! Have our troops already penetrated this far into the territory?"

　　 "Don`t get excited about that," Maksym said, crossing his arms and looking grimly at the place. "If the regular soldiers are here that`s not good. It only means we`re too slow. By the time we get to Kivv, they`ll have already arrived, and that just means a harder battle, more bloodshed on our side."

　　 "Hey, don`t get all doom and gloom on me&" Catia laughed. "You can`t possibly know all that&" Zoe found herself tuning the conversation out as she stared up at that banner and the window from which it hung. Without really shifting her attention, she started to speak, quietly - yet the din of voices around her ceased and she realized they were all listening intently to every word she said.

　　 "I don`t think soldiers took this place at all," she muttered, glancing again out at the fields. "Look at those fields. Not only are they in good condition, but they look full - what soldier would take a farm without looting or burning?"

　　 "We`re better than that," Wiktor commented.

　　 "I didn`t say looting and burning was a bad thing," Zoe cut in, without looking toward Wiktor. "Listen to me. It wasn`t soldiers taking this place. There`s no sign of damage. No bullet holes on the walls." Even as Maksym and Catia brought the boat to a halt against the river`s bank, and Zoe stepped out over the edge, she found yet more evidence of her point in the ground itself. "No bootprints." When she stepped onto the shore, a clear impression was left in the moist earth of her boots. It was only the lighter-soled shoes the Valers wore out in these wilderness lands that could pass over such marshy dirt without leaving long-lasting marks.

　　 Zoe looked back up at the window, pointed back up at it. She brought her rifle to bear, flipped the sights up and stared down them, pointing right up at the window. She thought she could see the secondary signs of movement inside - a shifting of shadows on the wall - but perhaps it was her imagination? It was difficult to trust her senses these days. But through the scope she saw what looked like an ordinary corner of an ordinary bedroom. Against an ordinary wall were cast ordinary shadows of the ordinary bedframe and dresser and cabinets you`d expect to find in any simple person`s home.

　　 But there, again - the shadows shifted.

　　 "This is a trap," Zoe said. "Advance carefully, and let`s see what is the matter."

　　 At her command, the squad inched forward towards the walls of the homestead. There was something deeply satisfying about it - being the head of the snake, holding command. She thought of Cigdem. I`m finally better than you, soft fool.

　　 For a moment Zoe felt shame - the disgust she knew her younger self would have felt upon seeing Zoe as she was now. But that was so many years ago, an eternity and another world and another Zoe, and she shoved the regret down. I`m a soldier, not a scientist, and my old life is just that - old, dead. She tilted her head slightly, adjusted her grip on the rifle, keeping her finger just outside the trigger-guard even as she trained her scope upon the shifting shadows of the afternoon house.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

　　 With the sun getting lower in the sky, it was hard to tell exactly what any object was by its shadow. Longer shadows were harder to read, less distinct in their shapes. But they were also easier to detect and their movements more dramatic. The patterns of movement Zoe saw there could only mean one thing - there was a person in the room. She placed her finger against the trigger, inside the guard. Her eye itched, waiting for the moment when she could freely squeeze that trigger. Come out, come out& any moment now, she`d see a face pop up in that window. Maybe an ambusher with a rifle not unlike her own. Maybe the Valer would attempt to rain down firebombs. Maybe&

　　 Maybe it was a Reaper. The thought hadn`t occurred to Zoe until then. She remembered the magic Hilda Zelenko had wielded all those seasons ago. Her legs shook and she almost stood to run. Then Zoe remembered Kamila& the one who`d beaten her, the one who`d come to her in her dreams every now and then ever since that accursed day when Zoe failed. It was Kamila who had beaten Zoe, not Hilda, ad it was Kamila who had beaten Hilda. Mirshalite magic wasn`t everything. Zoe took a slow breath, finger on the trigger. Show yourself&. Show yourself&

　　 "Hey, don`t shoot! I`m a friend!"

　　 Zoe shot without thinking, startled by the voice. In the quiet of the slow march toward the building, in the quiet of Zoe`s growing isolation as she hunkered down in the dirt, the voice sounded just that much louder. Startled, she fired. Quickly she readjusted her scope, taking aim again, and saw the hole in the wall where her bullet had struck. Splinters of wood and specks of dust rained from the spot. Just beneath the line of Zoe`s fire, there was a woman. No - a child - her hands were held up in the air and she stared in alarm at the new hole in her bedroom wall.

　　 Zoe quickly tilted her head to look at the house itself. A man stood with his hands up, the Invictans` weapons all trained on him. Near the door of his home, he smiled and waved to the whole squad. "Hey, I saw your armor and your banners and I wanted to offer you a place to stay for the night. Or at least dinner?"

　　 "Zoe?" called Catia. "What do we do?"

　　 Zoe stood up. She almost called out for her companions to "kill them all" - but looking at the man, and then glancing up at the window - from which the child was watching Zoe - she paused.

　　 "Let`s talk to them!" Zoe said, and started to jog forward to catch up with the rest. "But we shouldn`t stay the night. It could be dangerous."

　　 "Well, at least stay for dinner," the man said. "We`re not trying to entrap you, I swear to you."

　　 Zoe came to a stop alongside the other soldiers, face-to-face with the man. He was middle-aged, with a receding hairline and a wilting smile to match. He looked haggard now, with slightly sunken cheekbones, but there was a brightness to his eyes, and what Zoe recognized as a sort of animal intelligence.

　　 "Why aren`t you calling for the militias to help you?" Zoe asked, reaching for her sidearm as she approached the man. He glanced at her hand, stepped back, and held up his hands higher.

　　 "We should just shoot him and go," Maksym said, hand resting near his hip.

　　 "Hey, hey, we`re friends. Calm down. I know you`re on edge but we`re on your side. It`s just us out here, but when we heard the army was coming through we decided it`s better to welcome folks like you than to try to fight. What do I care who claims dominion over this land, just as long as I`m left alone. You folks are headed up north, right? For Kivv?" The man talked rapidly, his words almost blending together as they tumbled out his lips. "What happens to those people is none of our concern and if they`re going to go provoking people into war, then as far as I`m concerned they have it coming, everything. Whatever happens to them. Not our problem, you know? So we`ll help you out, shelter you if you want. Just, put in a good word for us, won`t you? When this is all said and done?"

　　 And so the Invictan saboteurs came to be sitting in the dining room of a Valer farmer, eating food from his table. A wide sheet of flatbread was the base of the meal, drizzled with oil and surrounded by dips and sauces and tiny cups of herbs mixed with oil or vinegar. It was unfamiliar food to Zoe`s palate, at least relative to what she was used to at home. The spice came mainly from peppers, and the flavors of vinegar and oil were predominant. Yet, somehow, though it was strange, there was a familiarity at the same time. This food was closer to the rations Zoe had come to know as a soldier than it was to the ordinary, spicier, fresh Gaurl fare from back home.

　　 "And so I really have no reason to dislike any of you," said the man, finishing his explanation of how he had come into possession of an Invictan banner and why he had hung it from the window.

　　 "We`re simple people," said the woman sitting across from him. "We have no interest in these wars& for what should we care what king claims dominion over a land?"

　　 "You should care if the king is a god," Maksym said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the table, his hands bunched in fists at his sides and his teeth gritted tight together.

　　 The woman chuckled at that. "If your king is a god, let him prove it. But I`ll give you Solists one thing, you know how to run a kingdom and that`s something we can scarcely aspire to."

　　 "I`m glad to see that some people at least understand our perspective," Zoe growled. "Even if you don`t share it, you can see why it`s better to work with us than against us. I appreciate that. I`ll be sure to mention you in a positive light if we complete our mission and return to our commander." Zoe took a hesitant bite of a corner of the flatbread, dipped in a sauce of some unrecognizable herb, carrot and pickled cabbage. "But I should say, this mission we`re on is very dangerous. If you never hear from us again, it could as likely as not mean that we failed on our mission, or died in the process."

　　 The man nodded sagely. "The perils of bringing light to others, and all of that. I understand."

　　 From another corner of the table, Maksym stared in barely-contained anger.

　　 As they continued to talk, the daughter of the house - the one Zoe had almost shot earlier in the afternoon - entered the room, carrying a decanter of some kind of brew. Steam issued from the mouth of the decanter, and she smiled at all at the table, stopping first over the shoulder of Maksym. "Some brew for you, sir -"

　　 Maksym snapped up, the look of a startled animal in his eyes. He turned toward the girl and reached out to grab her arm. The sudden motion was like the strike of a cobra and the girl cried out in surprise. Zoe could see it in the way she reacted - she was still on edge, still liable to react strongly to sudden movements. After all, she`d nearly been shot earlier. This place was remote, and though Zoe couldn`t really speculate, perhaps the girl had lived out here on this homestead all her life. Perhaps she`d never even seen or heard a gunshot before. More than likely - out here in the remote Vale, how common were gunpowder weapons, anyway? Even the militia members often did not carry them, unlike the Adma insurgents further south.

　　 In her panic, the girl dropped the decanter, and the hot liquid spilled onto Maksym`s shirt. Maksym, roaring in pain, stood up. "You little bitch!" he shouted. "First you try to poison me and then you try to burn me to death!" In Maksym`s grip the girl shook like a leaf, too startled and terrified to scream or cry for help. Zoe`s eyes shot toward the man and the woman - the man was holding the woman back by her arm, saying something in a rapid speech that Zoe couldn`t quite understand&

　　 Finally she tore free from the man`s grip, and the man stood up as well, calling out, "Let go of her! Sir! You`ve made your point!"

　　 The woman crossed the gap between herself and Maksym with alarming speed, and before anyone could react a knife materialized in her hand. She brought it down on Maksym`s back, scoring a line of blood from him, tearing through the padding of his shirt between the slats of his armor. Maksym screamed, letting go of the girl and stumbling away past her. The girl immediately grabbed on to her mother`s hand, sweat binding them together. Zoe saw it - the tears on the girl`s cheeks. Zoe felt the shaking of the table as she stood up, hand by her hip, fingers curled. Zoe smelled the sweat in the air and the familiar, almost delicious tang of fear and rage.

　　 The girl, free from the danger of Maksym`s grip, held tight to her mother`s grip, sweaty hands bound together, so tight, so tight, afraid and seeking comfort like anyone would. So Zoe lifted her sidearm and covered the wall of the lovely homestead dining room with the girl`s mother`s brain matter.

　　 It was quiet after. Nobody dared move, not even Maksym, not even the man who`d just seen his wife shot in front of him. It was quiet after. The girl, silent, clung to her mother`s convulsing hand.

　　 "Maksym," Zoe said.

　　 Slowly, Maksym turned toward her.

　　 "Next time, I`ll shoot you instead."

　　 No one dared question Zoe`s next commands. They would stay the night - all the soldiers in one room, except for Maksym and Zoe. Maksym would clean up the mess, and Zoe would watch.

　　 In the middle of the night - perhaps early morning, but Zoe wasn`t keeping time by any watch, only by the light of the moon and the stars - Zoe heard a stirring in the house that wasn`t from Maksym. Maksym`s work continued - he scrubbed the walls and the floors - but bloodstains are difficult to wash away and there was so much of it, especially after the botch-job he`d done of removing the body. It was hard enough to tear the girl away from her mother`s corpse, and of course she had to be cleaned of the blood as well. So Zoe made Maksym draw up a bath manually for the girl. When Maksym complained of the extra work, Zoe put a bullet in the wall, making it whizz an inch left of Maksym`s head. He didn`t complain any more after that.

　　 While he was scrubbing, though, Zoe heard the stirring in the house that was not him. She glanced up and looked down the hallway. In the faint moonlight, she saw the glint of the knife and the shining of the man`s eyes before she saw his whole silhouette. She watched him, stared into his eyes. He stepped forward and came into view, but did not emerge from the hallway. Still holding that knife. Still watching - eyes fixed on Maksym`s back, the unsuspecting Maksym`s back.

　　 Zoe glanced over at Maksym, considering. She glanced at the man. And then she thought of the mission ahead of them. Maksym was a gifted soldier, and he knew the layout of the city they meant to take better than anybody else did. She could not afford to let him go this easily. Zoe met the man`s steely gaze and shook her head.

　　 She saw the fight in the man`s eyes die with that little shake of her head. A simple side-to-side motion, as powerful as a bullet through the skull. Zoe`s face was blank, unmoved, but inside she was grinning. Such power she felt. Such control. Finally, control - finally.

　　 The man melted into the darkness of the hallway, knife lowered, and Zoe did not see him again from then until she brought her soldiers, unharmed, out of the house carrying fresh rations on their backs, and made for the boat that would take them north to Kivv.