Tohl smirked at the man across from him. Cole had pulled his knees to his chest. He glared at the stone floor, deep in thought. He had a lot to think about, no doubt. Tohl had just finished a brief summary of his own life. There was slight embellishment to make him appear more sympathetic, but Tohl felt there was little need for that. Not with the life he’s lived.

Tohl tried to guess the time since he began the story and ended it, and how much time between ending it and now. He looked to the closest end of the passage. He had told the story to delay for time until Billis finished in the throne room, but she hadn’t arrived.

She couldn’t be dead. Not Billis. She had faced far worse and survived to serve Tohl again. It was more likely that the Prince had escaped her and she was pursuing.

“You’ve been through a lot.” Cole muttered. He didn’t take his eyes off the floor.

Tohl sneered triumphantly. “Glad you agree. I have no illusions about the kind of man I am. I have a foul soul, but can all the blame fall upon me? The Twardow carved me into what I am. I never had a chance or choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Cole quipped. His eyes were on his sword now.

“Is there? We are born of all we know. The Twardow corrupted me because they themselves were corrupted. They didn’t start with taking slaves and murdering Infertiles. They started with rebelling against the Elden Fae, the interlopers that claimed their land and made them inferior by law. During their rebellion they turned to unsavory gods to give them strength. They had to. All the ‘good’ Divines were silent with neutrality.”

Cole turned his eyes up. Tohl guessed that he knew this piece of history. All of Fae’Riam learn of the wickedness of the Twardow and their origins in the Fae Civil War.

“Those Dark Gods wanted more than favor and worship. They took the Twardow’s fertility. Have you ever seen a stillborn baby? I’ve seen enough to fill this hall. The Twardow lost their war and, as punishment, the elden forced them to live in the frigid mountains with no fields for crops or game to hunt. The population dwindled in the dark until, who’s to say when, they collectively decided that if they were to survive they had to become harsh. Immigrants compensate for a workforce not being born, but since none below want anything to do with the Twardow it only makes sense that they should be taken by force. If slaves start to fight back and revolt, then it makes sense to hurt them preemptively. Break their spirit. Maybe even Sever them.”

His hands were bound behind him so Tohl gestured with his shoulders. He sat back satisfied. He had often practiced this speech to himself. “So because the Elden never gave the Tuatha a choice, Kutoja never gave the Twardow a choice, and the Twardow never gave me a choice. I am not a flawed individual, I am the product of a flawed history.”

Cole scoffed. “So every slave that escapes the Twardow is destined to be like you? The history you tell is true, but your conclusion is bunk. Every action you made since escape has been your choice. You chose to manipulate and kill your way into a position of power amongst fascists. That was you. Not the Twardow. You could have returned to the life you had before they took you.”

“The life I had before was hell!” Tohl snapped.

He regretted breaking his control, but his anger couldn’t be contained. He despised being bound in the dark with naught for company but this self-righteous bastard.

“You do see my face, right? I was born with skin like snow and eyes like raspberries. That is the extent of the difference between me and the kin of my village. And yet I was treated as if I was a different species entirely.”

Tohl’s lip curled enough to touch his nose. “‘Taibful Mire.’ ‘Psycho Ghost.’ That was the playful nickname my young peers gave me. ‘Beware psycho ghost. His eyes are red because of all the blood he’s drank.’ The adults did their best to curb the chiding, but they were not immune. They probably thought they were including themselves in the fun when they threw the odd comment my way, but I just saw it as confirmation that I was as cursed to them as I was to the children. I grew to hate my own face long before the Twardow came.”

He pounded his back to the wall. He had never vocalized these feelings before. “This world showed me no kindness. Never. So I will hurt it in return. I will break it and bleed it and feel nothing because I was never taught mercy.”

Cole flinched at Tohl’s outburst. He spoke quietly. “That’s what this all is? You engineered the Order of Suffering out of spite?”

“What more powerful emotion is there? If the world wasn’t so flawed, then it wouldn’t produce men like me. There is no justice, only vindication. There is more to it than that, but it is the role fate has given me.”

Tohl drifted his attention to the cobwebs on the ceiling. He had said too much already, but he wouldn’t reveal Kutoja’s role in this. It didn’t matter; Billis would come and kill Cole before the day was done.

“The sick truth of it all: I don’t even care about those the Order targets. I never met a diablan or molochan until coming to the Confederacy. I was tasked with making a culture that eats itself, and the easiest way to do that was by bringing to the fore every purity test a society stratifies itself with. That’s what the Order of Suffering is. They kill what’s through the window because they want it to be a mirror, and I was keen to keep providing them with targets long after the last ‘volatile’ died.”

Cole said nothing to this. He was silent for a long time. Tohl gnashed his teeth. He didn’t feel any better from his ranting. He wanted Billis to arrive with the Prince so that he could watch Cole die and leave before Sráid fully fell.

When he looked back to Cole he found that the boy was staring at him intently. Tohl narrowed his eyes, waiting for the inane platitude that was surely brewing in Cole’s mind.

“You always had a choice.”

Tohl scoffed. Cole was returning to that well after Tohl had thoroughly poisoned it? He would have laughed in his face had Cole not cut him off.

“Did you ever tell yourself ‘Never again’?”

“What are you talking about?” Tohl condescended. He was refusing to look at Cole now.

“Never again.” Cole reiterated. He ran his fingers along the length of his sword. “‘Never again should this happen to someone else.’ ‘Never again will I let hate drive me.’ ‘Never again will I let myself be defined by those that hurt me.’”

Tohl leaned his head to one side. He pulled on his bindings, but they simply cut into his wrists. He would have to humor the halfling. “I once told myself that I would ‘never again’ be beneath anyone. Of course, the only way to fulfill that was to put everyone beneath me.”

“That’s it then.” Cole said. Tohl hated the confident way he said it, like Tohl had just fallen for an easily spotted trap. “You chose the never again of destruction, rather than the never again of building something better. You always had a choice to fight the circumstances that made you, rather than embracing them.”

Tohl soured. He had nothing to say to that. He truly despised this man and how long it was taking Billis to arrive.

He spat his next question. “So what happens next? Will I have the opportunity for redemption?”

“I think you’ve had plenty of opportunities for redemption.” Cole answered in a flat tone. “In truth, I’ve been contemplating killing you here and stopping any chance of you escaping.”

That was enough to shake Tohl’s core.

“...And what’s stopping you?”

“An encounter with a phyrn taught me that killing someone means they can’t tell their story.” Cole said thoughtfully. He had a distant expression. “When the battle here has ended I intend to make you tell your story to everyone whose lives you ruined. I’ll let them decide.”

“A trial then?” Tohl masked his hope. A trial was more ideal than death. He could manipulate a trial.

“Something like that.” Cole sighed. He relaxed himself further on the wall. He was also expecting someone to arrive and end this moment. He cast his eyes longingly down the hall. Suddenly, his eyes perked up. Tohl cocked his head where Cole was looking.

From the Keep entrance a group of three approached. The human woman that had passed through earlier, a diablan, and Billis.

“Cole! Are you okay?” The diablan shouted once he recognized who was in the passage.

“Just fine.” Cole responded with a smile. “I, uh, have a prisoner here."

“We do too, kind of.” The diablan responded with a shaky voice.

He was looking at Billis. Tohl gaped. She had been captured? Impossible. He dumbfounded into silence until they were closer and her saw that she was merely unarmed, not bound. That was manageable. Billis had killed without her falchion before.

Before anyone could speak further Tohl raised his voice. His eyes sparked with glee as he stared maniacally at Billis. “Billis! Kill them all and free me!”

Billis’ did not move. She stared at her captured master. With each passing second of inaction Tohl realized that something was wrong. Billis’ eyes were clear. The haze was gone. She was looking at him with understanding.

Tohl felt a tightness in his chest. His smile faltered and his voice cracked “Billis, I order you to free me!”

She made direct eye contact with him. Her pupils contracted. Tohl could see the memories that played when she looked at him.

“You…” Her voice was faint, hoarse, and full of hate.

Tohl’s entire body tensed. His breathing hastened.

“You bastards!” He screamed at the people around him. “You ruined her. You ruined her!”

There was not a single sympathetic face in the room. Tohl had to control himself. He may have lost Billis, but he still had his silver tongue. He had to wait for the trial. The promised trial.

His thoughts were interrupted by the steps of heavy boots. Billis was marching towards him. From the diablan she had taken a sword. When the diablan moved to stop her the human pushed him back with a stiff arm.

Tohl couldn’t find the strength to stand. He kicked himself along the ground, away from Billis. Cole frowned at the situation, but let it happen all the same.

“Billis, remember how I rescued you. Remember how kind I was.” Tohl’s voice was a hiss now. “Turn your sword on them, Billis. On them, you dense bitch!”

Billis smashed her hand over Tohl’s mouth. He couldn’t speak. She brought her face close to his with nothing but defiance in her eyes. Tohl felt the edge of her sword against his throat.

“Be silent.” She commanded.

Tohl had no final words. No last say. Billis slid her blade across his throat and he died with a whimper.