The girl wanted to die and Thatch wouldn't stop her. He knew what it felt like to be violated - he knew a whole lot more.

But, Thatch thought, maybe she didn't have to end up like the corpses hung from those barren trees; emaciated faces whose hatred would simply become dust and scatter in the wind.

Maybe he didn't have to end up like that.

No one paid any attention to the duo. For the crowds, that earlier scene was akin to a play, or some kind of comic punchline.

It had ended.

"If you help me, I can at least kill that guard captain for you..." He said, as he took the girl further away and into the now thinning crowds of the markets.

It was the first time that the girl looked at him.

"But you'll probably die this time" He said.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came out.

"What's your name?" Thatch asked as they rounded into a narrow corner, allowing her to fall on the dirt.

The girl managed to move her lips this time, though if any sound was made between them, Thatch couldn't tell.

The last words of his mother were the same; he would never know them.

"I'll call you Ella for now." Thatch thought he would feel something more when that name rolled off his tongue. Yet too many seasons had passed, leaving only foreign-sounding syllables behind.

But memories remained. They invaded dreams. They drew tragic paintings that haunted his nights.

"How will you do it?" The first audible sounds from the girl came hoarsely and with much effort, and Thatch knew why. His mother had also screamed her voice away.

"...I'll die too" Thatch spoke wearing a soft smile, finally feeling like letting go of all the things that kept him here. He had to die soon. Whether it was here and now, or in a few hours when the Knight found him, he would die.

He knew it.

He had to let go.

The girl looked up at this strange boy properly, and looked into his eyes. They were kind.

She nodded. They were going to die.

---

Thatch walked through the markets and stopped by an open smithy. Blades and tools of mediocre quality lay on a stall, and behind the stall, the harsh tones of metal rang. Stealing anything from the markets guaranteed an unpleasant experience. Every item for sale had a Conjury mark upon them; some nastier than others. Unless an item was purchased, it was almost impossible to remove.

No one sane would steal from the markets.

But Thatch was about to die.

He cursorily glanced at the lineup of utensils before deciding to take a large kitchen knife. Did he have the strength to stab with this? He could only find out.

He quickly grabbed the knife and ran. Immediately, he could make out the roar of the stall owner behind him. He turned corners, and made a mess of stalls he ran through. He weaved through the crowd, which was much thinner now than earlier in the day.

He felt his hand that held the knife burn. Soon his skin would melt. This was perfect.

Thatch made to where he could finally see the gates to the inner city, chased by shouts and anger. He felt a sharp sensation by his right ear. Something had been cast toward him. Did it land?

Under the heavy pulses and beats in his chest, Thatch didn't know.

But there was an intense heat in his hands he couldn't ignore now.

He ran with all his might towards those gates, and the guards naturally saw him.

The girl he called Ella had stood by the entrance of an alleyway close by, and as soon as she saw him, she ran towards the gates.

The guards, distracted by the commotion Thatch had created, took a moment to register that she had slipped by them.

When they finally turned to look at her, Thatch had already arrived at the gate's entrance and passed through them in a rapid dash. They didn't have the time to lift their spears. When they noticed, however, they began to chase after Thatch, who had now caught up to Ella through the gate and under its archway.

Beyond the gates, Alex, the guard captain, had been idly snoring by a desk in the open heat of the twin stars. When he stirred awake, and noticed the commotion, Ella and Thatch were already upon him.

"What the fuck?" Alex stared wide eyed as Ella attempted to tackle him to the ground. She was somewhat unsuccessful, only causing him to lose balance, and he threw her against the stone wall. Before he could do anything more, however, Thatch was already upon him, burning knife in hand, and jumped to strike the disoriented guard captain in the neck.

Alex flinched, and the strike missed his neck and instead stabbed his shoulder. Before Thatch could try again, he was kicked to the ground, letting go of the knife which had now dug into Alex's shoulder.

By this point, the guards at the front gates had caught up to Ella and Thatch, but they couldn't get a clear strike on them during the quick melee.

The skin of Thatch's arm was bright red, a layer of skin almost completely burnt through, and the pain he hadn't paid attention to before immediately flared. He now also noticed blood dripping from his temple. He had lost hearing in his right ear. It was bearable, at least. He'd been through worse.

"Fuck fuck shit that fucking hurts" Alex screamed and began furiously kicking Thatch on the ground as he tried to remove the burning knife from his shoulder. It was difficult to grip now, let alone remove by hand. Every second that passed was another second of unbearable pain for the guard captain.

The other guards took a step back, seeing Alex so furious. Their guard captain was going to have their heads after this.

Thatch coughed blood and strained his head amidst the beating to look at Ella on the ground behind Alex. She was still. Her eyes were wide open staring unblinkingly into his.

Those eyes. They held hatred and bitterness.

They held regret.

They were his mother's - Ella's eyes.

They were the eyes of the dead.

And they told him to survive.