Chapter 32:
The divide
Glory of Ash
The morning was grey. The fog was thin. The ground was still.
Dorn stood at the entrance of the hollow. His axe was in his good hand. His wounded arm hung at his side.
"We need to decide."
No one asked what.
---
Leon spoke first.
"The wounded slow us down. The forest learns faster than we heal."
"So we leave them."
"So we split."
Dorn turned. "Same thing."
"No. Different."
"Explain."
Leon pointed at Harkin. "He can't walk. Varra can't feel her legs. Silla's ankle is rotting."
"We've been carrying them."
"We've been dying."
---
Silla leaned against the wall. Her ankle was swollen. The stain had reached her knee.
"He's right."
"Silla—"
"I'm not dead yet. But I will be if we keep moving together."
She looked at Dorn.
"We split. Some go ahead. Some stay."
"Who decides who stays?"
"Someone has to."
---
Harkin spoke. His voice was thin.
"I'll stay."
"No."
"I can't walk. I can't fight. I'm useless."
Dorn knelt beside him. "You're not useless."
"Look at my leg."
"I've looked."
"Then stop pretending."
Dorn's jaw tightened. "I'm not pretending."
"You're hoping. There's a difference."
---
Varra sat with her back to the wall.
She couldn't feel the stone beneath her. Couldn't feel her hands. Couldn't feel the beat of her own heart.
You're already dead weight.
She pushed the thought away. It came back.
They're going to leave you.
She looked at Silla. At Dorn. At Leon.
You should leave yourself.
---
Jorund sat apart.
The stalks were in his belt. Still pulsing. Faint.
His hands were black. His chest was black. The stain had reached his throat.
He could feel the forest watching. Not the creatures. The forest.
It was waiting.
For what, he didn't know.
---
Luke stood at the entrance.
His hands were black. His neck was black. The stain had reached his jaw.
The fog was thin. He could see the trees. The space between.
Something was out there. Watching.
He didn't tell anyone.
---
"I'll go ahead."
Silla spoke. Her voice was steady.
"With Luke. And Varra."
Dorn turned. "You can barely walk."
"I can walk."
"Your ankle—"
"Will rot whether I move or stay. I'd rather move."
She looked at Varra.
"Coming?"
Varra didn't answer.
"Varra."
"I heard you."
"Are you coming?"
Varra looked at her hands. Grey. Numb. Useless.
"I can't feel anything."
"Neither can I."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
---
Leon stepped forward.
"Three of you. Walking into the fog. Alone."
"We're not alone."
"You're not armed."
"We're not helpless."
Silla pulled her blade. The edge was dull. The grip was cracked.
"It's enough."
"It's not."
"It's what we have."
---
Varra stood.
Her legs held. She didn't know why. She didn't question it.
"I'm going."
"Varra—"
"I'm not staying here to die in the dark."
"You could die out there."
"Then I die moving."
Silla walked to her. Took her arm.
"Together?"
"Together."
---
Dorn looked at Harkin.
"I'm staying with you."
"You should go with them."
"I should stay with you."
"They need protection."
"They need speed. I'm not fast."
Harkin closed his eyes.
"You're stubborn."
"I learned from you."
---
Leon walked to Luke.
"You're not going to try to stop them."
"No."
"They could die."
"They could die here too."
Leon stared at him.
"You don't feel anything anymore."
Luke looked at his hands.
"I feel everything. I just can't change any of it."
---
Jorund stood.
His hands were black. His chest was black. The stain had reached his jaw.
He walked to Luke. Pressed something into his hands.
The stalks. Wrapped in cloth. Still warm.
"Don't come back for me."
"Jorund—"
"Don't. Come back. For me."
Luke looked at the bundle. At the pulsing veins. At the warmth seeping through the cloth.
"What are you going to do?"
Jorund looked at the trees. At the fog. At the dark between.
"Whatever they need me to."
---
Silla walked to the entrance.
Varra beside her.
"Ready?"
"No."
"Good."
They stepped into the fog.
Luke followed.
---
Dorn watched them go.
His hand was on his axe. His wounded arm hung at his side.
"They're not going to make it."
Leon stood beside him.
"They might."
"They won't."
"Then why didn't you stop them?"
Dorn didn't answer.
---
Harkin leaned against the wall.
His leg was black to the knee. The bone had shifted. The skin was cracked.
He closed his eyes. Felt the Veyra inside him. Weak. Faint. But there.
It would take time.
He didn't know if he had time.
---
Jorund sat apart.
His hands were empty now. The stalks were gone.
The moths were still there. Watching. Waiting.
He looked at the fog. At the place where Luke had disappeared.
"Don't come back for me."
He meant it.
---
The forward group walked into the white.
Silla limped. Varra stumbled. Luke led.
None of them spoke.
The forest watched.
The fog closed behind them.
---
The holding group sat in silence.
Dorn held his axe. Leon stared at the wall. Harkin breathed. Jorund waited.
The forest breathed with him.
Something irreversible had just happened.
None of them knew what.
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