Iree Nobelis hadn’t made an impression on Shark at first. She was a hard worker even then, they supposed, way back when they were snot-nosed brats in beginner combat training. But that wasn’t an especially interesting distinction. They all worked hard because they were told to and because they didn’t want to die in the war the adults said was coming.

It started when most of the class had turned thirteen. Some, like Shark and Rhys, entered the fray right then and there while others, like Iree, were kept behind to hone their skills for a while longer before they were mandatorily deployed at fifteen. Shark remembered that, in the first days of training, someone cried during each bout, and those tears spun out of control like a contagion between young, scared minds. By the time war was declared, they had learned to save these feelings for their pillows at night or for the shoulders of trusted confidants.

Others, though, didn’t have the sense to keep some sentiments to themselves. The families involved in nonviolent demonstrations and carefully worded petitions to halt conflict were primarily located in the middle tiers of the social ladder. Iree’s line was among the exceptions, and so was Hollyhock’s; the Nobelis and Novak families, noble names with council seats, were considered frontrunners of the movement, in fact. The names involved became common knowledge in a blink, and it was the talk of the town, all that seemed to be on anyone’s mind.

Shark had joined readily in the mindless hate towards them. How dare they take the easy way out, forsaking the good fight for their pretty, useless words! It was too easy to be influenced by the rushing waters of disgust and fear. It was too easy to not consider that Iree Nobelis and all children like her had no choice when it came to the actions of those above them.

When social pressure didn’t stop the movement—though it hacked away at its ranks effectively—possessions were threatened. Those still stubbornly involved now stood to lose everything. Status, home, land, each and every bauble and bit to their name, gone and seized in the name of order and justice. This was when the Novaks turned tail; most did. Only one family remained in a bested movement.

The Nobelises were stripped of their title and wealth and moved to a shanty on Springen’s outskirts where the sight of them wouldn’t offend more upstanding, loyal citizens. They became emblematic of why it was best to buy into the ideal of shedding blood for justice rather than reach for unlikely alternatives. It was only after the dust settled as much as it would from this event that Shark began to really notice Iree Nobelis.

Seeing her stand tall as if she had done absolutely nothing wrong made Shark wonder for the first time if she actually had. Through the rumors, they discerned the truth of her story. A year before she had turned fifteen, she snuck out onto the field of battle. At first she’d been reprimanded, but she made enough of a mark in that initial transgression to be begrudgingly accepted into the regularly deploying ranks. Once she had that in, she didn’t let go. Iree Nobelis’ Pyre magic came to be known as an avenging flame, and she left the charred, pungent flesh of her enemies behind as she moved to strike the next victim. She put her life on the line for those who had spurned her without hesitation and made it clear she had no sympathy for the enemy. She’d earned respect separately from her family, distancing herself due to her own necessity.

What had happened afterwards in her narrative, Shark didn’t know, but Iree had evidently done something right if she’d been able to make it to the position of commander. It took strength, that level of defiance. When Shark’s own time to act in defiance had come, they’d thought of Iree. They were all sixteen and seventeen by then, and Shark had been on track to take the position that Iree had managed to grasp in their absence. When trying to have the courage to leave, Shark had remembered her. If she had borne that pain, judgement and isolation, then Shark could too.

Granted, Shark’s life in Sirpo was much easier than Iree’s had been in Sacer. The villagers of Equin didn’t care about Shark’s past or that they were a deserter; there were other deserters there, even, and Shark had found somewhat of a community among them. Despair had washed away particularly when they’d met Dorothea, been reached out to and taken in by a kind hand.

But Dorothea was waiting for them to respond in the present, so they finally said, “She’s strong. I can’t fully read her, but I think we can trust her.” Knowing Dorothea would be more comforted by a sure statement, they rephrased. “We can trust her to fight for what’s right.”

“Right,” Dorothea repeated. “Isn’t that a nice thought.”

“Hm?” She didn’t sound angry, but the words were heavy and tired.

“We can talk about what’s easier or what will strain me and my magic less, but it’s…” She waved her hands around, searching for words. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple and onto her cheek as a warm breeze swirled around them. “I’m selfish. Thinking about stuff like that when there are hundreds of people down here who have it worse.” Her eyes had a faraway look to them. “I’m going to die anyways.”

From the very start of their friendship, Shark had hated this the most about Dorothea. Her insistence on lingering on her doomed future was infuriating. Now, they knew that trying to believe that what had happened to generations before her would by some miracle skip Dorothea was beyond foolish. It was just that, for their own selfishness, Shark didn’t want to be reminded. They didn’t want to think about having to live decades without her. “So what?” they demanded. “It doesn’t have to have anything to do with you.”

She shook her head. “The thought of my death has terrified me for as long as I can remember. After watching Mommy… Mom, I mean, go… I became hateful. I didn’t care about anyone else.” Dorothea pressed her hands to her heart. “I didn’t want to use this power for anyone else’s sake. I thought they didn’t deserve it. But who deserves this war? Me living my life like I have is completely meaningless. If I’m going to die, it should be for a reason.”

Of course no one deserved what had happened. They had only been children, taken and forced to grow into a world of bloodshed. But Shark didn’t care about anyone else. They knew what Dorothea was about to say.

Her voice was soft. “I think I should fight for them.”

“No.” Please. Turn and run away and let them hate you.

Dorothea dropped her hands and took Shark’s. “What would you have me do?”

“Anything else. I’ll do the fighting for us if you want to pick a cause. I’ll stay behind while you go.” They tightened their grip and snapped, “Why would you want to rush to your death by doing this? You feel guilty, so now you want to become some sacrificial martyr? You don’t have a responsibility to anyone, and no one’s asked you to take pity on them. It’s not your war and you’re not their hero.”

“I know. I know it’s too little, too late. I’m not trying to be a hero. I just… I’d rather do something good before I—”

“Just stop talking about dying!” Shark yelled.

“Every moment is ticking away from me!” Dorothea retorted. “How can I not? You’re twenty-three years old and you could live to be more than three times that age. I’ll be lucky to double it. My mother certainly didn’t! Even if I never use my magic again starting right now, my body is… I’m weak. It’s no use, Shark. I think… After coming here, I think that living and dying having done nothing for anyone else would be worse than picking my own purpose.”

“Was it the battle yesterday? That was nothing, Thea. It’s not something to get worked up over.”

“It’s because a struggle like that, hurting others like that, is considered so small that I need to act. Sacerians and Ghurians think nothing of harming one another, and the Ghurians thought nothing of massacring Sirpo’s people no matter how innocent they were. I can’t be content with doing nothing and being ignorant anymore. It’s not excusable.”

“So, what? You’ll die because it’s noble?” Shark let out a bitter laugh. “Honestly, Thea, that’s bullshit. It’s utter bullshit.”

“Maybe. But I still think it’s the right thing to do.”

“But do you even know what reaching a peaceful world means? We’re talking about entering war. Re-entering, in my case.”

“Shark, you don’t have to follow me. I can take responsibility for my choices alone.”

Shark shook their head. “Uh-uh. No way. Your battles are mine. There’s no other way for me to live my life.” Not after she’d been there when Shark had needed her most. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll just go along, got it? If I have a say, there’s going to be plenty of life left in you by the time we’re through.”

Warm appreciation mixed with sorrow on Dorothea’s face, making her look even more as if she were fighting back tears. “Thank you, Shark. For looking out for me. It’s not like I want to die… I’ll try hard to have a few good years left with you by the end.”

“You have to look out for yourself.” Shark wrapped her up and squeezed the breath out of her. “Promise me, okay?” Dorothea absolutely had to live. They wouldn’t let her get herself killed due to some delayed sense of chivalry and purpose.

She let out a wheezy laugh. “I promise.”

Satisfied as they could be, Shark released her. “This is crazy. Hope you realize that.”

“Of course I do.” She paused. “Shark, I mean it. You don’t have to do this.”

“Come on. You’d be lost without me.”

“I’m being serious. If you want to go home to Sirpo, I’ll fix it for you right now and then come back on my own. My choices don’t have to be your choices.” She frowned and looked them in the eyes. “I don’t want you to feel forced and resent me later.”

Shark wanted to laugh it off, but she had a point in establishing here and now that she wasn’t going to be culpable for any regrets they themself might end up having. “I get it. My choices are mine and yours are yours. But I stand by what I said earlier. I’m gonna be here for you.”

Their stroll continued in relative peace, both of them lost in separate thoughts, until Shark spotted something in the distance. Ze took a few steps forward but faltered, squinting, and this caught Dorothea’s attention. It looked as if water was rising over the top of the fort, but it wasn’t falling like a wave would, and it was too dark. It was still, solid, black. Which of course meant that it was ice. Which in turn meant that this was an attack.

Oh come on.