"When the Desert passes, if we are constant, it shall give way to the Final Kingdom. In the Final Kingdom, there will be a time of strife - a time of struggles and of defending the meager gains. In that time, there may appear before you an enemy. It will be your fate to fight - do not fight with hate in your heart, but regret - but fight nonetheless."

-The First Codex, Suri Bilhir 307

244 YT???

Atop the walls of Kivv Kamila stood, staring out at the distant mountains and at the small figure trudging across the marsh toward these walls. The attendants beside her moved close and she held out her arms, feeling an unfamiliar weight in her arms when the armored plates were fitted around her. The sensation continued to spread as more pieces of the armor were fitted to her. She turned her head to try to get a look at the attendants’ faces, but they were all blurred and indistinct.

From beside her, her sister’s voice spoke, quiet and small. “Kamila, you’re acting like there’s only one way this can go.” Hilda was staring out at the mountains, the same as Kamila, but Hilda didn’t see mountains. She didn’t see the soldier moving for the walls, wreathed in sand and heat. She only saw the people beyond the mountains, the shining city and the children –

Enemy children –

Ensconced there. Kamila hated those children with all her heart, but Hilda had no energy for hate. They were safe – they were warm – they gained freedom and safety from the terror and the pain inflicted upon Kamila and her friends. They had the privilege of being children, but her…

It was Hilda’s lack of passion that got to Kamila. How could she not hate them, how could she not be filled with vengeance and fury and fire? Kamila growled low in her throat. “No,” she said, “there’s two ways this can go, not just one. We kill them or they kill us.” The breastplate clicked around her torso, then her stomach was encased in alloy. The surface of the armor was white under the yellow sun, smooth and deeply un-metallic. She touched it curiously – the material was soft yet unyielding, without shine to it.

“And you’re just going to let yourself become just like them, then?” Hilda asked. Her voice was as though it came from far away. It made Kamila feel a spark of rage, deep in herself:

“I never started any wars!” Kamila said, flexing her fingers underneath the strange new gloves.

“But you’ll kill!” protested Hilda.

“You’ve killed too, Hilda!” Kamila snapped as she said it, and turned to face Hilda, to see the weakness in her eyes.

But Hilda wasn’t there.

“I…” the younger sister’s voice was strained, almost to breaking. “Not because I wanted to…. We’re supposed to have principles, Kamila –“

“Principles?” Kamila scoffed, made circles with her ankle as she stood on the opposite foot. “There is no principle except that they want to kill us and we have to kill them first!”

“How can you… I mean… there’s got to be a way…” Hilda’s protests were quiet, soft. It was the voice of one who’d given up. The weakness of it disgusted Kamila. Why wasn’t Hilda angry? Why wouldn’t she bite back?

“A way for what?” Kamila hissed, harshly, letting disgust drip palpably from her every word. “A way for peace? Are you going to try and negotiate with a man who thinks he’s God, a man who will call himself merciful as he kills you?”

She laughed, placed her hand on Wallshaker’s hilt. The presence of the sword, and of the memories within, bolstered Kamila even as she adjusted to the weight of her armor. She started to move within it, the extra weight on each limb and joint not enough to contain her energy or the adrenaline flowing in her veins. “There’s only one way that ends, Hilda!” Kamila, strangely, felt herself sob as she spoke, as she looked over her shoulder again in search of Hilda. She couldn’t see her. Whenever Kamila turned, Hilda was not there, her voice coming from just outside Kamila’s peripheral vision. Fog danced at the edges of her eyes. “He’ll let you talk and he’ll thank you for your time and then he’ll put a bullet in your skull!”

She heard Hilda gasp quietly. She didn’t relent. “And he’ll throw you on the pile, just one more enemy body to be forgotten!”

“Kam, stop it.”

“And do you think they’ll stop at killing you?” Kamila laughed – no, of course they wouldn’t stop. They’d never stop. “They’ll erase you. They’ll make you something less than a person.” She turned and finally saw Hilda there, and she reached out, grabbed Hilda by the arm. Her sister was so small, fragile, her arm like a stick that Kamila could have snapped off with a twist of her armored wrist. Kamila leaned close to Hilda and said, “They’ll –“

“Kam, stop it!”

“No, you need to listen –“

“You need to listen! You’re hurting yourself!”

“But I’m right.” Kamila shoved Hilda away, and her sister yelped, clasped her arm close to herself and looked up at Kamila with reproach. The faceless attendants stood aside, their work complete, as Kamila continued to rest her spare hand on the hilt of Wallshaker.

Hilda turned her back to Kamila, facing down the length of the wall. “You…” she said. Kamila could hardly hear Hilda’s words through the rushing blood in her ears. “I just don’t want you to regret any decisions.”

“Do you sense regret from me, Hilda?”

Hilda did not speak. Kamila’s mouth was a thin set line, grim and plain as she stared at the back of her sister’s head. Hilda did not turn to meet Kamila’s eyes, only stood. The arm Kamila had grabbed shook by Hilda’s side, fist clenched. Hilda did not speak.

“Do you?” Kamila asked again. “Will I ever regret anything?”

Hilda’s answer was a whisper, barely audible to Kamila. As she said it, Hilda began to walk away, down the distant length of the wall, and when she walked the mists flowed in from either side to obscure her back. The answer was sorrowful and grim, spoken with the resignation of one who knows that everything is at its end. Before Hilda disappeared into the mist the last thing of her Kamila saw was her fist opening. The open hand had nothing left to hold onto at the end.

“No,” and the whisper vanished among the mists.

Kamila would have liked to tell herself she did not hesitate. But she stood, for many minutes, as the figure of the soldier crept closer to the walls. It was only when she heard the shout – “Come down, Valer, and see if you can stop the end of everything you love!” – that she turned. She drew Wallshaker, its grim knowledge of battle filling her and swelling her lungs, setting her nerves afire, bringing blood to her fingertips. Kamila stepped forward, over the edge of the ramparts, and dropped from the wall.

The impact did not hurt – her strange armor absorbed the shock of it, and the mists parted around her to reveal the face of the one who approached. Zoe Bari raised her rifle immediately and fired – no hesitation. But Kamila did not hesitate either. Central guard, tip shift slightly to the right, twist left, foot forward the form entered her mind and, only half-aware of her movement, she made those millisecond movements before the sound of the bullet even reached her. She heard the clang of metal against metal and saw Zoe bite her lip in frustration.

With a mere two steps Kamila was halfway closer to Zoe, seeing the dust all around her. Wallshaker’s memories flooded Kamila, but they did not weigh her down. The youth who’d become lost in a strange tower, sprouted from the earth, who’d fled so quickly and cleverly and nearly reached safety… The Syndicate soldier who’d gunned him down, rapid tat-tat-tat-tat echoing forever in her skull… The child with his brother’s discarded rifle…

The Aether War – fourteen years of death, claiming billions – its memories were so vivid in Kamila when she approached Zoe.

The dust of those dreams swirled about Zoe Bari as her eyes met with Kamila’s. She spoke, quietly, but even above the roar of wind and the echo of the gun and through the smoke cloud of gunpowder Kamila could hear. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Another resounding shot rang out, and again Kamila anticipated it, sidestepping where the bullet would have torn her lung. She darted forward, swordtip trailing along the ground next to her, and as she drew close to Zoe she turned the blade, raised it readying for a diagonal swipe at her enemy’s throat.

“I’m so glad we’re meeting again, Kamila… it’s been too long.”

Again Zoe fired – this time Kamila felt the shot coming through the subtle shift in Zoe’s feet. The smoke cloud was so thick that Zoe’s face and upper body were obscured, but Kamila saw how she moved one foot to the left a little, widened her stance, and bent her knees as though to shoulder the weight of recoil.

“There’s two ways this can go.”

Kamila thrust her sword into place and heard the satisfying ring of the bullet ricocheting, followed by a grunt of pain from within the cloud. Kamila laughed and stepped into the cloud.

“We will never be normal again,” Zoe said, at the center of the cloud.

“Shut up!” Kamila shouted, swinging her blade wildly. She felt metal scrape against metal, felt the parting of the air and twisted to the side so that the bayonet would not impale her.

“You’re just a slave who kills,” Zoe said. Kamila’s hands tightened around the hilt of Wallshaker as she thought of herself holding Zoe by the top of her head, smashing her into the wall of Etyslund’s library, again and again and –

The gunsmoke cleared and Kamila saw Zoe’s face clearly – wild eyes, hair plastered to her head by sweat. There was blood and dust in that hair, little bits of stone falling down around her. She thrust with the bayonet and Kamila stepped to the side, reached out, grabbed the gun by its barrel. Zoe fired one last time, uselessly, before Kamila tore the gun from her grip and tossed it aside. Then she stepped toward Zoe. The Invictan soldier drew her knife, preparing still to attack Kamila. But Kamila paid the knife little mind, stepped forward, and ran her sword through Zoe’s heart.

Zoe laughed, and Kamila felt hot blood on her face. “You’re a good soldier, aren’t you?” She gasped, her breath coming shallow and quick, but her words were clear. Every syllable stung Kamila like a lash against her back. “You do what’s needed…”

Zoe slumped forward against Kamila, and she started to move, to take a step away. But she couldn’t move. It felt as though she was stuck on something. Kamila glanced down in confusion.

She didn’t feel the pain until she saw the bloody sword sprouting from her own chest.

Kamila couldn’t suppress the scream – but she turned to look behind her. Her own face leered down at her, blurred by pain, holding the hilt of Wallshaker and with triumph in her eyes.