Chapter 31:
The Stay
Glory of Ash
They found shelter in a hollow.
A fallen tree, its trunk rotting from the inside, its roots still clinging to the soil. The cavity was just big enough for all of them. Barely.
Harkin lay with his leg stretched out. The bone had shifted again. His face was grey.
Silla leaned against the wall of rotting wood. Her ankle was swollen—not just numb now, but hot. The blue fluid had dried on her skin, but the stain remained. Dark. Spreading.
Varra sat with her back to the group. Her hands were in her lap. She hadn't spoken since they stopped.
Dorn stood at the entrance. His axe was in his good hand. His wounded arm hung at his side, the bandage soaked through.
Jorund sat apart. His hands were black. His chest was black. His face was grey. The stain had reached his jaw.
Luke sat in the center. His hands were black. His neck was black. His chin was black.
Leon stood by the entrance. Not watching the forest. Watching them.
---
"We need to move faster."
No one answered.
"Some of us can't keep up."
Dorn turned. "Who?"
Leon looked at Harkin. At Varra. At Silla.
"The wounded."
"You mean leave them."
"I mean the group is only as fast as its slowest."
Varra's head lifted. "Say it clearly."
Leon's voice was flat. "If we stay together, we all die. If we split, some of us might live."
"Which ones?"
"The ones who can still fight."
---
Dorn stepped between them.
"Nobody's getting left."
"Nobody has to be left. Some people can choose."
"Choose what? To die alone in the fog?"
"To give the rest of us a chance."
Dorn's hand tightened on his axe. "You're not making that choice for them."
"I'm not making any choice. I'm stating the math."
"The math can go to hell."
---
Silla stood.
Her ankle buckled. She caught herself on the wall.
"Leon's right."
Everyone turned.
"We can't keep this pace. Harkin can't walk. Varra can't feel her hands. I can barely stand." She looked at Dorn. "If something attacks again, we're dead."
"Then we fight."
"We can't."
"We've been fighting."
"We've been losing."
---
Harkin spoke. His voice was thin.
"Leave me."
"No."
"Take the lantern frame. Leave me."
Dorn knelt beside him. "I'm not leaving you."
"You're not leaving me. I'm telling you to go."
"That's the same thing."
"No. It's mercy."
Harkin looked at his leg. The bone had shifted. The skin was black.
"I'm not going to make it back. You know that. I know that."
"You don't know that."
"I know my body. I know what the stain does. I've been watching it spread. On Luke. On Jorund. On me."
He looked at Dorn.
"I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of slowing you down until you die too."
---
Dorn didn't move.
His hand was on Harkin's shoulder. His face was pale.
"You carried me. When I couldn't walk. After the first structure. You carried me."
"That was different."
"It wasn't. You didn't leave me. I'm not leaving you."
Harkin closed his eyes.
"That's not logic."
"No. It's not."
---
Varra spoke.
"I'll stay too."
Silla turned. "No."
"My hands are useless. I can't fight. I can't hold a blade."
"You can still walk."
"Barely."
"Barely is enough."
Varra looked at her hands. The fingers were grey. The nails were black.
"I'm not going to be useful anymore."
"You don't have to be useful. You have to be alive."
"That's the same thing in this place."
---
Leon walked to the entrance.
"I'm going ahead."
Dorn stood. "You're not."
"I'm not asking permission."
"You're not leaving this group."
"The group is already leaving itself. One piece at a time."
He stepped out.
The fog swallowed him.
---
Luke followed.
Not far. Just enough to see. Leon was standing twenty feet away. His back was to the hollow. His hands were at his sides.
"You're not going alone."
Leon didn't turn.
"I've done it before. Walked the Pale alone. During the hunts."
"And?"
"And I almost died. Every time."
"Then why are you trying again?"
Leon was quiet for a moment.
"Because the alternative is watching them die in front of me."
---
Luke stood beside him.
The fog was thin here. The trees were close. The ground was soft.
"You're not going to leave them."
"No."
"And you're not going alone."
Leon turned.
"How do you know?"
Luke opened his mouth. The words were there. *Because I've been alone in this place. Not physically. Inside. It's worse.*
His mouth closed.
Leon waited.
Luke said nothing.
---
They walked back to the hollow.
The others hadn't moved. Harkin was still on the ground. Varra was still sitting apart. Silla was still standing by the wall.
Dorn was at the entrance. His axe was in his hand.
"You came back."
"Did you think I wouldn't?"
"I didn't know."
Leon stepped past him. Sat against the wall. His arms crossed.
"We stay together."
No one argued.
---
The night was long.
No one slept. The fog pressed against the hollow. The ground was soft. The roots were still.
Jorund sat apart. His hands were in his lap. His chest was black. The stain had reached his collarbone.
Luke sat beside him.
"You're quiet."
"I'm always quiet."
"Quieter than usual."
Jorund looked at his hands.
"I've been thinking about what Leon said."
"About leaving people behind."
"Yes."
Luke didn't speak.
"He's not wrong."
"He's not right either."
"That's not an answer."
Luke looked at the fog.
"It's the only one I have."
---
Jorund's hands were shaking. Not from fear. From the stain. The black had reached his wrists. The skin was tight. Cracked.
"I don't feel anything anymore."
"That's not true."
"It is. I should be scared. I'm not. I should be angry. I'm not."
He looked at Luke.
"I'm just empty."
Luke's eyes went to the stalks in Jorund's belt. Still pulsing faintly. The broken one had crumbled to dust. He didn't say anything about them. He just looked.
Jorund followed his gaze.
Neither spoke.
---
Dorn sat with Harkin.
Harkin's eyes were closed. His breathing was shallow.
"You should sleep."
"I'm not tired."
"You're exhausted."
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
Harkin opened his eyes.
"For the morning."
---
The morning came slow.
The fog was thinner. The ground was harder. The hollow was still.
Dorn stood. His arm was stiff. His shoulder was swollen.
"We need to move."
"Where?" Silla asked.
"The gate."
"It's still two days."
"Then we walk two days."
---
Varra stood. Her legs held. She didn't know why. She didn't question it.
"I'll go first."
"No," Silla said.
"I'll go first. If something happens, you'll see it."
"That's not—"
"It's what I have."
She walked into the fog.
Silla followed.
---
Leon walked beside Luke.
They didn't speak. The silence was full.
---
They walked.
The forest was still. The fog was thin. The ground was soft.
Harkin leaned on Dorn. His leg dragged. His face was grey.
"We're not going to make it."
"We're going to make it."
"You don't know that."
"I know we're still walking."
---
Varra stumbled.
Silla caught her. Varra's hands were black. Her fingers were stiff.
"I can't feel my arms."
"Keep walking."
"I can't—"
"Keep walking."
Varra walked.
---
The day passed.
The forest didn't change. The fog didn't shift. The ground didn't move.
They walked in silence.
---
They stopped at dusk.
The hollow was smaller this time. The walls were closer. The air was thin.
Jorund sat apart. His hands were black. His chest was black. His face was grey.
Luke sat beside him.
"Leon was right."
Luke turned.
"The math. Leaving people behind. It's cruel. But it's not wrong."
Luke didn't speak.
"I've been thinking about my mother. About the Shade. About watching her die."
His voice cracked.
"I didn't leave her. I stayed. I watched. And she died anyway."
He looked at Luke.
"Maybe leaving is kinder."
Luke looked at his hands.
"Maybe staying is braver."
---
They sat in the dark.
The fog pressed against the hollow. The roots were still.
Jorund's eyes were grey.
Luke's eyes were brown.
Neither of them slept.
The forest waited.
The morning would come.
They would walk again.
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