The night was cold, and the weight of their loss hung heavy in the air. The search for a burial site had been grueling. Most of the ground was too frozen to break, even with Stick’s [Bronze Sword], but PP had suggested looking where the snow had piled thick. Beneath its heavy blanket, the earth remained soft enough to dig. They cleared an area of roughly two square meters, their hands raw from the effort. Stick never asked how PP knew where to dig, but he suspected the answer anyway.

  “I had to dig the Pit,” PP muttered as if reading Stick’s thoughts. “Among other things.”

  Stick didn’t respond. He didn’t want to acknowledge what he already knew about PP’s past. Instead, he cast his gaze to the pale, lifeless body of Shadis near the fire. The guilt gnawed at his insides. It should have been me. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.

  They dug in silence, the surrounding darkness mirroring the heaviness in their hearts.

  PP finally spoke again, explaining, “The snow insulates the ground. Sometimes you find live worms in the dirt.”

  Stick ignored him, his mind replaying the escape, searching for a different outcome. If he had planned better, if he had been stronger, maybe they all could have made it. His frozen fingers, guarded by his Protection, cleared a path through the dirt, just as they had pushed aside the river’s icy waters. I could have done more.

  PP demonstrated a technique, using both hands as a shovel. “It makes it easier.”

  Stick frowned. Since when is he so talkative?

  “Just say it already,” he snapped.

  PP looked up. “What?”

  “Just say what you want to say. What’s the point of all this small talk? First Titor, then Smith and Michael, and now Shadis. You were right.”

  PP halted, considering the words. He hadn’t meant to imply anything, but now that Stick had confronted him, the weight of truth settled between them.

  “You were too weak to attempt an escape, Stick.”

  Stick clenched his jaw. “Thank you for your honesty, I guess.”

  A rustling sound interrupted them as Nakamura, who had been sleeping, sat up groggily. “What’s with all the noise? You’re too loud.”

  Stick turned on him in a flash, fury burning in his chest. “Why didn’t you give him your clothes? He was freezing to death! It’s your fault!”

  Nakamura scoffed. “No, it’s not.” His voice was indifferent, but a tremor betrayed him. “He was dead the moment his Life Points stopped regenerating.”

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  “That’s it?” Stick stepped closer, jabbing a finger into Nakamura’s chest. “That’s why you wouldn’t help a dying man? Because of some fucking Life Points?”

  “Get a hold of yourself! It was just a bot.” Nakamura tried to keep his voice steady, but he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted to seem.

  Stick scoffed, returning to the hole, his body shaking with rage. Just a bot.

  His stomach churned. The phrase looped in his mind, growing louder, more twisted, until it consumed him. A growl rose in his throat. Dirt flew as he tore into the earth, his movements frantic, furious. He pounded the ground with his fists, his body shaking with rage and grief.

  “A bot!” He hurled another handful of dirt. “Just a bot! Nothing we could do about it! Not that it matters when you weren’t even able to help them anyway! When you’re just a child. Just a stupid, naive child! A fucking fool who thinks he can play hero!”

  His breath hitched. The world blurred.

  “I’m too weak.” His voice cracked. “Too weak to protect my friends. Too weak to change anything! What kind of hero am I? How could I ever think I could take on Carnifex?”

  “Stick…” PP’s voice was quiet.

  Stick’s hands were bleeding, his fingers blue from the cold. His Protection had run out. Not that it mattered. Nothing fucking mattered at this point.

  “I failed, PP,” he sobbed. “I’m a complete and utter failure. And they still believed in me. That’s why people died. Nakamura was right. I’m worse than Carnifex.”

  Nakamura looked away, arms crossed.

  PP’s voice remained steady. “They died. There’s nothing you can do about that now. But you’re alive. You’re free. That means it’s your responsibility to find Alastair Blitz. You took that responsibility when you called yourself a hero. Now you have to see it through.”

  “I don’t think I can,” Stick whispered, defeated.

  “You have to.”

  “I—I can’t…” His sobs overtook him, leaving him breathless.

  PP stood, walking over to Stick. “If not you, then who else will do it?”

  Stick tried to answer, but he was caught short of breath, hyperventilating.

  Cold chains brushed against Stick’s chest as PP placed firm hands on his shoulders. “If you don’t trust yourself, then trust in what Shadis said: You might be too weak now, but you’ll grow into a formidable opponent for Carnifex.”

  “How?” Stick shivered from both the cold and the weight of everything crushing him. “How will I do that?”

  PP’s lips curled into a small smile. “We’ll find a way.”

  Stick wiped his eyes. “We?”

  PP exhaled, his chains clinking as he raised his hands. “I don’t remember a day without shackles. I thought captivity was normal. Rebellion only ever brought pain. My masters were terrifying, but freedom had always felt scarier. But you… you always had the drive to be free.”

  Stick listened, intrigued.

  “For the first time in my life, I have no master. No one to command me. No one to tell me what to feel. I finally have time to think about what I want. That’s because of you.”

  Stick nodded. “And what do you want?”

  PP smirked. “For starters, I want these chains off. They’re way too cold.”

  Stick chuckled weakly. “Then we’ll have to find a way to remove them.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  Stick let out a slow breath. “And after?”

  “I want a big feast with everyone. I want them to be free.”

  Stick nodded solemnly. “Then we think alike.”

  “I don’t want anyone to be a slave again.” PP met Stick’s gaze. “That’s why I’m coming with you.”

  Stick finally calmed down and gave himself time to think.

  Stick rubbed his chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk this much.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  They resumed digging. The hours passed in silence, their exhaustion setting in. Finally, the grave was ready. When they turned to retrieve Shadis’ body, they found it wrapped in Nakamura’s warm clothes. Stick looked at Nakamura, who sat by the fire, silent. He must have returned to the fireplace without us noticing.

  An hour before dawn, they laid Shadis to rest.

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