The last thing I remember was an excruciating pain in my chest. I can’t be sure, but I think Trevor stabbed me. Things quickly went dark after that, and then, I don’t know.

  Am I dead?

  I can’t have left Dardania alone. And what of James? Neither of them have any family left. I can’t be dead. I can’t.

  I’m not scared of death, I’ve seen too much death to be scared of it. I specifically remember the day Dardania broke me out of the camp. The chaos I witnessed that day is still the scariest thing I have ever seen. Not only the violence I saw my sister commit in order to save me, but what people were willing to do to one another.

  I don’t know how many people died that day, but it was more than I could count.

  By the time she rescued me, I had been in the camp for three years. Three grueling and miserable years. I couldn’t even recall the last time I had a proper meal or bathed prior to then.

  My days were spent confessing my sin of homosexuality, and mindless work that served no purpose. Move one brick from one pile to another. Dig a ditch here just to fill it in and dig another one over there.

  Though, on occasion the ditches did serve a purpose, the purpose of burying bodies, which we had to bury. We would dig the ditch, fill it with bodies, and then fill the ditch again. I think I would take the mindless work over that if I ever had say in it. I don’t even know how many people I buried during those three years. Many of whom I got to know, or at least got to know their faces. Some were people who refused to confess their sins, others were deemed too sinful and needed to be cleansed.

  They would have us believe that we would come back from being cleansed, but no one ever did. They would be taken away to be cleansed and then several days later they were added to the pile of bodies to be buried in one of the ditches.

  I imagine if you were to dig up pretty much any surface in a camp, you would find a dead body. That’s how many people we were burying. Eventually you run out of room and start digging up old graves to put more people in them. I think we covered every piece of empty land in that camp by time I left.

  Every day we would confess our sins. Some days were easier than others. Some days the words would come easy, and others, not so much. Whether you were too exhausted to think straight, or perhaps so dehydrated that you were hallucinating and didn’t know why you were there. On those days, you would be punished for refusing to confess your sins.

  The punishment was never physical though, it was always magical. If they were to beat, burn, or whip you, that would leave a mark. A scar that would never heal and be a constant reminder of the torture. The magical torture only left a scar on your mind. But, even those could fade over time. Just enough that you might forget what the pain felt like. Just enough that you might feel you could fight back one day. And then the magical torture begins again, and you instantly remember.

  The lack of physical marks also made it easier for people to pretend nothing bad was happening. That by sending someone to a camp no harm would come to them. So when the time came to transfer sinners to a new camp, or when members of the Order came by, it looked as though it was just a run of the mill work camp. As long as nothing could be seen, it was easy to pretend. To pretend to be just and righteous. To pretend to be holy. To pretend that you are maintaining order.

  Dardania hadn’t perfected her magic at that point, so it was all very physical at the time. Her words mirrored that of a basic weapon with Slash being the most common. She was able to control and create basic weather patterns, but nothing out of the ordinary or too powerful. Which, arguably, made the sight more gruesome.

  As she marched through the camp, she basically disemboweled every member of the order she came across. She would slash them multiple times, each of them bleeding profusely, so much so that they would die quickly just from blood loss alone.

  Part of me celebrated the view of the massacre, but the other part of me was concerned on how this was affect her. You don’t commit an act such as this and walk away unscathed. It sticks with you. It haunts your dreams and your memories and no matter how much you try to claw it out, you can’t. I would know. While I have never been the perpetrator of a massacre, but the memory of my parents turning me in and the subsequent years are seared into my brain. I will forever carry this period of my life with me no matter how much I pray to forget it.

  My excitement quickly waned when I viewed the chaos that followed Dardania’s arrival. The Acolytes and Clerics took this as an opportunity to kill as many sinners as they were able to. Granted, a riot did begin the moment the members of the Order started dropping, but it was not a balanced battle. The death toll at the hands of the Order far exceeded any damage that had been done by the prisoners. Even members on the opposite side of the camp where the violence from Dardania hadn’t yet reached took this as an opportunity to enact their punishment.

  I’ll never forget their faces. As they destroyed the people that stood before them, their faces lit up with glee. This was not the act of men who felt their life was threatened, it was an act of deranged men who believed their faith was more important than the life of the person before them. So when the time finally came, I applauded their deaths. I felt no remorse for the death of the man that lie before me.

  “Avis…” Dardania’s eyes were wide, her face drenched with her own tears, her mouth agape. She was covered in the blood of the men she had killed and with each step, she left a trail of blood behind her. “I found you.”

  “Dee.” My voice was shaky. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually spoke. The only word I have uttered in months was ‘homosexual’. I would confess my sin and go about my day, at least lately I had. I think prior to this day, I had given up. I was pretty sure I would be cleansed here and never see the outside world again. Instead, I watched my sister commit a massacre.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Dardania turned to look at the destruction she left in her wake, and immediately she fell to her knees. She turned back to face me, her head shaking violently, which was quickly followed by her entire body.

  “What have I done? What have I done? What have I…” Dardania let out a blood curdling scream. A scream that has haunted my nightmares since that day. I did not place myself in this camp but I couldn’t help but feel that I was to blame for that scream. If not for me, she never would have done this to herself.

  The following weeks after we left the camp, Dardania didn’t speak, but she did scream. Every night she would wake up in a cold sweat screaming at the top of her lungs. I didn’t sleep, so I just chose to watch over her at night, trying to soothe her when I could.

  When I closed my eyes at night, all I could see were the Clerics standing over me casting a spell that made my body feel like it was on fire from within. If I fell asleep, I saw the grimace that painted their faces as they killed those innocent people. There was no rest for me, so all I could hope to do was fall asleep for a few minutes, just long enough to keep me going.

  We slowly made our way to Enkidu, only staying in towns when we had no other choice, but that was short lived. It didn’t take long for wanted posters to pop up in every town looking for Dardania. I ripped them down any chance I got, but they continued appearing just as fast as I could take them down. I also began spreading the rumor that it wasn’t her, that it was me. That I started a riot that got everyone killed, except for myself. With the way people gossip, it didn’t take long to take root.

  “Can you ensure that is what gets out?” I asked Prisha when we arrived in Enkidu. It was probably the safest place to be at the moment since it was a free city. The Order would eventually look here but it required more bureaucracy to do so, so it would be their last resort. “Have the Minor Arcana spread the rumor that it was me. Make the Order think I did it from within.”

  “No!” Dardania screamed. I immediately whipped around to face her. This was the first words she had uttered since we left the camp. “No!” She screamed again.

  I couldn’t stop myself from crying. It had been weeks since I heard her speak, only scream. She hadn’t uttered a single word since that day, so to hear her voice again meant the world to me, even if it was in defiance of me. I dropped to my knees and immediately pulled her into a deep hug. I openly wept on her shoulder for gods only knows how long.

  She didn’t immediately begin speaking normally after that, but she did gradually start to regain her voice. Honestly, I think it was the Tabathia myths and the long talks with Prisha that did it. Prisha made sure she didn’t hold it all in and forced her to eventually tell her everything that happened that day.

  I tried my best to not listen in on their conversations but there were times I couldn’t help it. It never made it any easier to hear her tell the story. She pushed herself to commit an atrocity all to save me. All I could fear is that she would lose herself because of what she has done, and then what? What good would that do? If I was saved but she was lost in the process, it’s just sacrificing one sibling for another. I don’t think that truly solves the problem.

  “And you?” Prisha would always ask at the end of their conversation but I would just turn the other way. I didn’t wish to speak on it. I spend every night with the memories replying in my dreams, the last thing I wanted to do was relive it. It was my life for three years, I didn’t want it to consume the time since then as well.

  “It will eventually eat you alive.” Prisha declared before walking away. I think I heard that phrase more times than I can count, but I mostly ignored it. Though I shouldn’t have.

  Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. Unfortunately, when I found myself, it was on the edge of a cliff staring down at a valley hundreds of feet below. Rather than talking it out, my therapy had been learning to use a knife in combat. It took me years to figure out why I chose that weapon, but it makes sense. Because I never wanted to forget what I was fighting for, and the only way to do that was to come face to face with the thing I was fighting. I learned that the hard way, on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off.

  “Please, just take a step back!” Dardania pleaded as she slumped to her knees, tears rushing down her face. I couldn’t bring myself to look back at her.

  “I can’t make it go away. Their faces.”

  “You aren’t there anymore Avis, you’re safe. With me.”

  “Not the Order, mom and dads. Every face I saw on the members of the Order, it’s not theirs, it’s mom and dads. Mom and Dad killing those sinners with glee. Mom and Dad torturing me when I wouldn’t confess. Mom and Dad forcing me to bury the dead. Mom and Dad refusing to look my way when they turned me in. I can’t make it go away!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my pain echoed through the valley below me. Dardania covered her mouth. I’m guessing she didn’t know what to say.

  “Every time I close my eyes. Every time I dream. Every time I think about—” The words got caught in my throat. “Every time I think about freedom. I just feel them refusing to look at me. As they abandoned me!”

  “Avis.”

  “Why would they do that? Did they not love me? Was I not enough for them? I was their child! I’m a human being! To make me bury the person I spent the last six months sleeping next to. To make me watch as my sister screamed in pain. To make me beg for my own death.” The last sentence came out as a whisper.

  “To make me beg for my own death. If my own parents couldn’t love me, was I worth being loved? Maybe I was born wrong. Maybe there was something wrong with me. Something worth being cleansed. Something unnatural. Something worth being buried in a mass grave for no one to mourn. Maybe it was me.”

  “Avis no.”

  “Maybe it was me. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was me. Maybe-” Dardania grabbed a hold of me, dragging me to the ground with her, wrapping her arms tightly around me and squeezed.

  “It was never you. You are beautiful and magnificent as you are. I love you and I need you. You hear me. You hear me?!” Dardania digs her head into my chest and begins sobbing. I let my head fall onto hers and I scream. I let it all out. All the pain and misery and suffering I have been holding onto for years, I let it out.

  As the echo of my pain drifts away in the valley, I let my desire for death drift away with it.

  “I need you.” She cried. “I need you.”

  I’m not saying that things were instantly better after that day, but I did feel lighter. Prisha was right, I needed to let it out. I did it probably in the worst possible way, but what can I say? I was never the big softy, until now.

  After that, we slowly made our way back to Maia, to home. It was a very long journey home. We took probably the longest route possible mostly because neither of us could bring ourselves to go there. We probably visited all six of the sister cities multiple times before finally deciding it was time. It had been nearly two years since we left the camp, and close to five since I had been home.

  My parents weren’t there, which now we know they had been cleansed. But it took about five seconds before the towns people threw me in jail to be executed. That’s when I met him. The man who changed my life. The man who made me feel love for the first time.

  I don’t know what is going on, perhaps I am on my death bed. All I know is I need to get back to them. I need to find my way back to them. I made a promise to both of them and I need to keep it. I need to make sure Dardania makes her way to Tabathia and that James never feels alone again. Perhaps even help him make his way home. I don’t want to see him go, but I want to see him happy. His happiness matters more than my having him.

  So Avis, wake up dammit! I said wake up!