10th of November - 1894

  I truly hate how Hacker is right all the time. It took patience and many sessions of love but once again, Sandra was begotten with child. And, of the mercy from all the Hands of Fate, we have a boy. A healthy, perfect and beautiful boy!

  It was a perilous delivery. Clearly, the gods saw fit to test us still.

  Sandra cried out in pain throughout, and midwives swarmed in and out of the chamber with Hacker by her side. I knelt by the bed, holding her sweat-ridden hand. I tended to her the best I could. I applied a cold wet cloth to her head, kissed her forehead to calm her and allowed her nails to pierce the flesh of my hands with each twinge of her abdomen.

  It is a thing to endure. A husband utterly powerless to take away his wife’s pain. I may be a fighter and killer of rebels. But this is a sight to frighten even men like me.

  The midwives were amused by my expressions as my wife screamed and swore and cursed the air above her. I never thought she would be capable of such rage. Our last childbirth was nothing like this, it was easier and quicker. Perhaps that was why what happened happened…

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  Hacker held my shoulder before he was the last to leave. He bowed in deepest respect to Sandra, congratulating her for her fortitude and courage. She laughed weakly and kindly asked Hacker to knock her out the next time she had to go through this.

  ———

  Alone, the three of us stayed in the bed. She fell asleep quickly, exhausted as she was. Her head rested on my shoulder. Our child, small and wrapped in the swaddling clothes Hacker gave us, also slept. I alone stayed awake. I didn’t dare leave them.

  There is a fear I have dwelling in me.

  That I would fall asleep or leave the home for any reason. And when I return from work or sleep, I would find my wife and child dead. An irrational fear. But I fear it. It is a sword that hangs over my head. I feel that there shouldn’t be a reason that I have what I have.

  I enclose the child in my bare arms, allowing him to feel the warmth of my chest.

  Thaddeus. His name shall be Thaddeus. In honour of my father, who fought with all his heart to give us a good life before his was taken. He will not take my name, I would rather the name Darius die with me. May Thaddeus inherit his grandfather’s will. And I must make good of my vow.

  ‘If you do that… then I will leave the Bodyhunters. I do not care how. I will find a way. I swear it.’

  I made that vow to the gods. And Sandra smiled. I smiled. Thaddeus will smile. The gods have done their part, giving us joy. Now I must do mine.

  One does not simply leave the Bodyhunters of their own volition. You can only die. Either through illness, a blade or an arrow.

  Markus will not let me go. Not with my position and especially my knowledge of his workings.

  But I have no other choice.

  The Hands of the Fate have shown me the true path. And somehow, I must tread it.