Adam considered Brigid multitude of things. A complete hard-ass. Lucy and Saria’s adopted aunt. That woman who initially used him like a tool and took sadistic pleasure at bombarding with beams of light at him during treating. He didn’t hold grudge at the latter, since strength was king and Brigid was the strongest person he had ever met.

That same person was sitting cross-legged on the grass, smoking a cigarette like the factory workers before their crushing twelve-hour shifts. She exhaled a plume of navy-blue smoke that glittered faintly before dissipating into the cool air. It tasted bitter with an undercurrent of sweetness.

“Something on your mind, boy?” Brigid asked. The lack of shouting or commandeering in her tone was unnerving.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Adam said.

“Only once a day.” Brigid said. The plucked out the cigarette from between her lips. The item was metallic and inscribed with a language he did not recognise. “Do you smoke, Adam?”

“It kills the lungs and smells like shit, so hell no.”

“Our scouts came across disused cigarette cartons from your world. Terrible, what they did to your people. Smart decision you’ve made.” Brigid said. She caught him staring at her own cigarette. “Oh, these are from my home. They’re a different breed. Our technology managed to remove the health effects of smoking, in exchange for something else.”

“Bet it’s got something to do with that Goddess.”

“Correct.” Brigid said. She looked wistful. “Servants, disciples and apostles would consume these during breaks to feel closer to her. The ingredient inside…well, it’s similar to opium, I suppose. The metropolises would churn out billions each year. I used to smoke much more of these in the past. Ever since coming here, they’ve been hard to find.”

“Right…” Was this woman seriously trying to make conversation with him? Her cigarette ran out. Brigid stubbed it on a patch of earth and placed the metallic tube inside her pocket.

“Now, how about you tell me why you’re up so early.” Brigid said.

“What, is that a crime?” Adam defended.

“No, but it’s not good for your rest. You’re want to rescue Madeline with Saria, yes? You can’t do that if you’re exhausted.”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep.” Adam huffed. “The hell am I supposed to do?”

Brigid didn’t say anything at first. She must have had many sleepless nights on her job, Adam realised, even if she tried to suppress it. The canteen had a dedicated coffee and milk ration, after all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“What?”

“What you’ve been seeing in your sleep.” Brigid said. “If you talk it over, you might come to an understanding.”

“Is it that obvious?” Adam said.

“Experience. I’ve seen many a war maiden or scavenger like you. The bags under your eyes give it away.” Brigid said.

Adam squinted at her. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Your choice, boy.” Brigid said. “Should it impact your work, we will intervene.”

She then added. “And besides, I am concerned about you.”

Adam bit back a chuckle. “You? Concerned about me?”

Brigid stared at him strangely, as if he had admitted to not knowing who she was. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re one of us, Adam. We look after our own.”

Because I’m your Pactbearer. Adam wanted to spit back. Yet, he didn’t, because the look Brigid was directing at him—vaguely melancholic, almost saddened—made his stomach twist in a funny way. It wasn’t unwelcome. It was just like that time Saria had admitted her guilt in the basement.

“Adam?” Brigid said.

“It’s fine…” Adam ground out. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

She was willing to listen, weird enough, so he might as well, if only so he could sleep better at night.

He took a deep breath and almost choked on his words. Flashes of the scene in front of him—blood, rotten flesh, his own hand soaked in grime—revibrated through his head. He clenched his fist, willing himself to steady. He could do this. He was an adult now, damn it.

“On that last mission. I…” He swallowed. A drop of sweat fell down his cheek, “I killed someone.” He blurted out. “I was fighting that bandit guy with a chainsaw. I knocked the chainsaw away, but he kept swinging with my fists and nearly beat the shit out of me. Then, at the last moment, I used up my red and aimed at his neck and…”

He didn’t finish. The wet splurt of the gushing blood, the stillness that followed upon the realization, it was all coming back. He clutched his stomach, trying to quell the nausea. It was rising up like a tsunami, bringing it the promise of acid and leftover’s dinner spilling across the field…

Oh, now he remembered. After seeing Mary’s corpse, he had gone and vomited in the sink as well, sobbing his little eyes out. Seven years and nothing had changed. What disgusting weakness he possessed. It mdae him want to retch even harder.

Then, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. A pulsating, soothing yellow light was surrounding him. He felt Brigid’s hand on his back, rubbing in a circle.

“It’s okay.” She whispered. “Breathe, young man.”

The movement inside of him was quelled. He sat up straight, breathing in and feeling the clamminess down his back. It took them a moment to regain his composure.

“What, you can use that thing other for blowing us up?” He muttered, lacking the usual bite.

“That was your first kill.” Brigid said. A statement. Adam nodded.

“You did not report it during briefing. Why?”

“Dunno.” Adam said. “Didn’t feel like at the time. It was wrong and I know, so please don’t throw me into a cell or anything.”

“We won’t punish you like that. We’ll only tell you to scrub the toilets instead.”

Was that her attempt at humor? Because if so, it worked. Adam chuckled. The tension lightened more.

“I’m curious as to why Saria, Lucy and the others didn’t pick up on this.”

“Didn’t tell them. Saria had her own shi—I mean, business with her sister.” Adam said. Now that he was thinking about it, they had given him some odd looks during break times or at meals. He had ignored them, of course. He wouldn’t have been interested in talking about it, either.

“They must have, as most of Astraea’s war maidens have killed before.” Brigid said.

That made his jaw dropped. His neck snapped around and he stared at Brigid with wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

“We’re called war maidens for a reason. Killing enemy combatants was part of our duty.”

“You’re telling me that Lucy and Saria both…”

“They must’ve thought you knew already. Or they have gotten used to it enough for it to become second-hand knowledge.” Brigid said, sadly.

He tried to imagine the two girls destroying their fellow man with the same fervour as they fought the monsters. Saria, the girl who smiled so lovingly at Madeline in those memories, blasting off a head like a popped balloon. Lucy slicing through a neck with the same grace she used to mentor him.

The worst part was that both fitted. He had seen it in their professionalism and expertise. Part of him had just refused to admit it and now the aftertaste was bitter.

“Adam, we are not psychopaths. We had rules of engagement and severe punishments for war maidens caught abusing their powers. We did not take lives without reason and tried as hardest as we could to avoid casualties.” Brigid clarified. She then sighed. “But yes, Adam, we have killed.”

“How…” His voice shook. “How the hell do you guys deal with that?”

“It varies. Some surrounded themselves with our Goddess’s faith—that was Lucy’s method. Saria had her little sister to look after. I knew colleagues who took to the drink. In truth, we simply got used to it over time. What was once so vivid eventually collapsed into a dull, grey task…” Brigid smiled bitterly. “You’re not the first person to have these troubles, Adam, and you’re not the last. Find solace in that.”

Adam looked at Brigid. Instead of the loud, harsh commander, he saw a woman with a face sharpened yet carved by the rigors of war. A woman who had stained her hands with blood of corruptions and infidels until it became second nature. A tired warrior burdened with responsibility and still had the heart to let him pour out his own in front of her, even though this conversation had passed through her circumstances many times before.

Oh, Adam realised. She’s not just strong in the body. The heart, too.

“What do I do now?” Adam confessed. “Do I just keep letting the nightmares happen?”

“Adam, did you think it was wrong to kill that man?” Brigid asked.

The boy pondered. Survive and win, the familiar mantra repeated in his head. The answer was obvious. “If I didn’t kill him, he would have.”

“A fair assessment. Now, would you want to do it again?”

“Are you asking if it felt good?” Adam shuddered. “Fuck no—sorry about the language.”

He had screamed about killing back when he was fighting among the youths of Steeldale. Delinquents such as him had blasted out threats.

“It’s fine.” Brigid said. “Adam, these are completely reasonable feelings to have. It’s okay to not want to kill. It’s okay to find it repulsive, unethical and nightmarish. It’s okay to never wish it upon your friends, or even your enemies. But…”

She looked him square in the eyes and he found himself rooted there, enraptured by the willpower she radiated. “You must not think of it as wrong. You must commit yourself to it when necessary. You must do it in order to protect yourself, your friends and family, and your home. Do you understand?”

He nodded, silently.

“Good. Then, you are like your friend Saria.”

Adam thought back to his time in Steeldale. During his sixteenth year, the turf wars between the delinquent factions had risen to their all-time peak. Every trip down a back alley ran the risk of getting jumped by a rival gang member. Adam had allied with Trent’s gang at the time. They threw themselves into the action, with Trent and Adam leading the charge. As he knocked out teeth and smashed faces into the dirt, Adam had screamed out taunts and threats to his cowering foes.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking bastards!”

“Step up if you want to die!”

“I’m going to send you home in a bodybag!”

Empty threats and false bravado. Adam had never attacked with intention to kill. Brutally beat the shit out of a punk who didn’t know their place, sure. But taking their lives? None of the Steeldale delinquents had the guts and they all knew it. Now, he was the first. All it tasted was that of lingering emptiness, coupled with the decaying odor lurking within the sinister mire of human behavior.

What would Trent and the other guys think of me now. Would they even understand?

The two sat in silence, watching the sun gradually grow brighter in the sky. The light-pink of dawn approached. Brigid sat up and brushed stray pieces of grass off her temple. Adam got up as well, intending to head over to the canteen for breakfast.

“Take a rest from breakfast to lunch.” Brigid said. “If anyone asks, tell them I mandated it.”

“Right.” Adam scratched his head. The words burgeoned on his tongue, then spilled out awkwardly. “Uh, thanks, Brigid. Thanks for talking this out with me. I feel better now.”

“It was my pleasure, Adam.” Brigid said, with a genuine smile. “We might not get a chance to talk this intimately in the future, but you need not be afraid to talk to others in West Junction. We are a community, after all.”

They parted ways. Adam walked down the dirt path towards the canteen, smelling the fresh air and the tinge of red in the skyline. It was only after a few minutes that he realised Brigid had called him and Saria friends. His first instinct was to deny the claim, though only half-heartedly. The second was to think about how Mary would have appreciated that statement.

Life continued on. He worked in the farms. He trained and spent time with Saria and Lucy. The dreams still appeared, but were decidedly less frequent and volatile.

Missions came and went. He honed his soul energy control and Pactbearer powers. The higher-ups discussed and planned, eagerly awaiting the day when they could raid Raz’s lair.