“Er… That’s not important, really,” Dorothea said haltingly. It wouldn’t help her or Gren for her to speak of her losses. “So, um, what was his name? Johanna’s brother.”

“Larue Marley. He acted against my orders too,” Gren stated. He sighed so softly that she almost missed it.

“Larue,” she echoed. A name to the face. “Do you, well, do you want me to bring him back?”

“You’d do that?”

“It’s the least I owe you after everything.” Speaking of… “Er, Gren, why are you doing this? Rather, why am I alive right now? The first time we met, you went straight for the kill.”

“I did?”

“Er, I prevented that, so you don’t remember, of course.”

“Well, I’ll apologize anyhow.”

“No, if I were you... Frankly, I would have killed me a long time ago.” It felt surreal to say it. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be a lot better off.” Iree, Rhys and probably many other Sacerians would be dead, no longer there to threaten Ghuria.

“With or without you, our position would be the same.”

True. It was a conceited thing for her to think. “Sorry. You’re right.” But that was why she’d sought him out in the first place. “If you’d let me, I’d like… I have a plan. I hoped you’d at least hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

In rambling, frantic words, she did her best to explain her intentions, previously run by the Nobelises. “N-Not that that fully fixes anything. We can’t heal the pain of the past, but, for the future, I don’t see any other choice but to let go of that pain. I just don’t know how to convince others. Gods, you probably want to throttle me right now, approaching you and being so presumptuous, but, but, well, I, uh…” Her words were coming out faster than her head could keep up with. “Don’t we have to at least try?”

“You’d betray Sacer. Your home is gone, and after what’s happened, you won’t be accepted in Ghuria either. There’s nowhere for you where you’ll be accepted. The Atlin line has allied with Sacer so many times that they’re not exactly regarded well in Ghuria. If you’re prepared for that, then… Okay. Let’s try.”

She wanted to throw her arms around him, her gratefulness and relief were so intense. “Thank you.” The path ahead would be difficult, but it was the only acceptable way ahead she could see.

He shot her another glance, and there was the slightest twitch on his brow. “Don’t thank me. You’re only going to suffer more.”

Not much to say to that.

The pines faded into withered, bent stumps, black etches in a vast expanse of white within Sirpo’s mountains. The cold was overwhelming, but Dorothea welcomed its bite. Her home was within reach after what seemed like centuries of change.

Once she witnessed it, she could no longer remember how she’d imagined it would look. The bodies captured in their fleeing positions, coated in a layer of snow, abandoned. The scenes would always be the same at their core. There had been countless stagings just like this one in the past, and it was set for there to be more if things continued.

“Gren,” she murmured as she knelt, peering over one of the fallen. “That wound… It’s fire, right?” The faces, they had just…exploded. Hairlines were traced in shadowed charring, the blackness trailing down to a cavern of pink and red, chunks torn out by birds, white frost with blue sheens, it was all too… “Gah…!” Dorothea cried out and launched to her feet, stumbling a few steps away before vomiting orange and yellow chunks highlighted by a clear bile with greenish highlights. “I’m so stupid…!”

Iree and Ariana had done this. They had massacred a neutral land’s people, used and manipulated her and Shark, and all for what? To win a war that only ensured more hurt and animosity. She hadn’t realized it earlier, maybe because she hadn’t wanted to, or she’d been scared, or she’d just wanted everything to be so much easier than it was.

She barely heard Gren. “We need to get you somewhere warmer.”

Right. Her teeth were chattering. “My house is this way.” She led him to the Atlin ancestral home, and he hesitated in the doorway. “Come on. You’re dressed lightly too.”

“Hm.” He didn’t betray it, but of course it must have been strange to watch a not quite former enemy wrapping herself up in a fluffier than was considered normal blanket and leaning against a gigantic teddy bear to boot.

Dorothea cleared her throat. “I have a few questions for you, if that’s alright.”

He blinked a few times and crossed his arms as she settled, huddling on the bed while fixing him with a determined gaze. “Sure.”

She hardly knew where to start. “Will you tell me about the relationship between the Ghurians and Thaw magic?”

“There isn’t much to tell. We see Thaw like you Sacerians see Wither.”

So the fear was mutual. Seemed inevitable. “What was the cause of the Wither epidemic in your point of view? Was it truly an accident?” she asked next.

His body stiffened, back going rigid. “In a sense.”

“I’m sorry to touch on such a painful subject. Someone from your family caused it, and then they were all… I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“It’s nothing to do with you.” The words were frigid, and Dorothea opened her mouth to reply, but Gren continued. “I’m the cause,” he said shortly.

Dorothea stared, breath catching. “What?”

“I caused the epidemic. It originated with me.”

“You…” This was it, then? The one who had taken her father and so many others away? She’d assumed the person who had done it had been killed, but for the origin point to end up as the sole survivor… What a cruel twist that was, for all of them.

“Judging by the look on your face, you lost someone, though you dodged the question earlier.” Gren approached, and Dorothea froze as he bent to have his face within her reach and closed his eyes. “Do as you like. That’s the least I owe you.”

“My father…and my mother…” Dorothea whispered as her nails threatened to pierce the skin of her palms. “They…!” If Sacer and Ghuria had just stopped their fighting, it could have saved her and so many others endless grief. Her parents… Seam and Ophelia… If only the three of them had gotten to be together a while longer.

Instead of striking out, she reached out with a tentative hand and touched Gren’s cheek. He sucked in the smallest breath and opened his eyes, a question written in them.

Tears stung her eyes, but she smiled. “They’ve already been mourned. I… I’m here to prevent the mourning of all those who will lose their loved ones if this war continues.” That was her life’s purpose. She realized it in that singular moment. Not to win the war for one side, but to stop it. “I hold no anger towards you.”

“Ah.” Gren hung his head, and she lost his eyes behind the dark curtain of his hair. When he stepped back and tilted his chin up, he was placid once more.

Dorothea gave him a few moments, but he clearly wanted the subject to drop. “If I may, what caused you to, er, become the cause?” Being able to tell now how much it hurt him, she hated to have to keep pushing.

“The Wither Contract, essentially.”

“I’m sorry? But the contract came after the epidemic, right?”

“I can only tell you what I remember. A representative from Sacer came and presented my family with an agreement. Or a veiled threat. It said that Sacer wouldn’t launch war on us if Wither, was to disappear.”

Dorothea shivered. But the Creed line was still flourishing. “So…”

“What choice did we have but to agree to their terms? But when they sat me down and tried to explain what was happening, I… I can’t describe it to you. The feeling of losing control like that, and…” He sighed quietly, regaining the composure that only his pauses had hinted he’d lost. “After that, a sympathetic family took me in, and that was the end. Or the beginning. I don’t know.” His words were without feeling, but his eyes were glazed with memories and undeniable hurts she had no way of fathoming. She’d never felt farther from another person while occupying the same space.

“They had no right. The people of Sacer, they…” She choked back her rage. It wouldn’t help him or his agony.

“I agree. But, in a sense, I suppose we’re even. Both sides ended up backing out.”

Dorothea gave a start. “What do you mean?”

“The first contract they showed us said that both Wither and Thaw would be erased to even things out. Then, after what I did, they got what they wanted without having to give anything up.” He crossed his arms again. “The epidemic gave them the perfect excuse, but, even if it hadn’t happened, would they really have kept their word? I suppose you could say it’s our fault for being naive.”

This had to be what Cadby had meant. Sacer’s transgression. This invalidated the entire war. As she leapt up, tangling herself in blankets before tossing them to the side, she declared, “Of course it’s not your fault someone else manipulated you with empty promises!”

Gren’s shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly. Surprise? Wariness? The closer she watched him to try to understand, the more obfuscated the picture became. “So? What do you want to do?” he asked quietly.

“People in Sacer aren’t aware that Thaw’s eradication was ever a part of the agreement. There’s no excuse to continue the war if this becomes public knowledge.” Someone had to have covered it up deliberately. The council was responsible for all decisions, so it had to go up there. “I have a lead I can follow to see if we can prove it. I need to get back to Springen.” She hesitated. “I can’t take you there. You’d be trapped in enemy territory. But I can go back now to get the proof we need.”

If and when she got the crucial evidence, though, what would she do? Would anyone in Sacer even listen? She had to at least try. The council couldn’t be trusted, but maybe Iree would listen to her and Rhys once she learned the truth. Surely, for Rhys, she’d be willing to bend to reason for just a few moments. Besides, Dorothea needed to be the bigger person here for the sake of her goals and approach Iree like a human.

Okay. She’d narrow down the definite truth, find Rhys, and confront Iree before reporting to Gren. “How can I reach you again?” she asked. “I relied on chance that I’d see you today, but it’s not a good bet for us to keep making.”

He looked askance as he thought. “The Sacerians are planning something devastating, aren’t they?”

“I… I think so. I don’t know any of the details, but I have that feeling.”

“Tomorrow, then. I’ll come back to this spot in the morning. If you don’t show up, I’ll assume that all of this came to nothing and move for a strike of my own while we still can.”

It was reasonable. He couldn’t waste time on tenuous possibilities when death hovered over his people. “I understand. Please be careful in the meantime.” She braced for the cold and headed for the door but stopped. “Gren.” She took his hands without warning, somehow shocked to find how warm they were. “Thank you. For trusting me, for sparing my life, for everything. I promise I’ll come back tomorrow.”

His eyes were wide, and she realized with a jolt of wonder that they were a deep brown, not black. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“I think… I hope it’s the right thing to do. No, I know it is because it terrifies me more than anything else.” She laughed lightly, unable to read what he thought of her response. “So, Gren… Please continue to trust me. I won’t let you down.” With that, she squeezed his hands and nodded to him before diving back into the ruthless cold.

There had always been someone there to tell her what the right thing to do was. Her mother showing her by example that it was proper for an Atlin to shatter for the sake of others. Sil and the council enforcing neutrality as the ones below clamored their right to receive assistance and divine intervention. Iree and Ariana mercilessly guiding her hand into allying with Sacer. Shark and Cerid assuming the correct version of the world and urging her to follow. And then there was herself, ignorant and yet so ready to insert herself into the affairs of others at the drop of a hat. She had to take responsibility for this and for the legacy her forebears had helped to create.

Now, it was up to her.