"To keep her living. You delude yourself into thinking that there is a life after this. We will never break free from Zlosa, troll. You should know that," he says.
I step back. “We’re already breaking free.”
"Lies. We may be free in the physical, but we will never escape the constant thoughts of what it was like to be here. What has happened to us will decide every action we take for the rest of our lives. And to go from one master to another sounds as good as cutting off my own toes. I stayed, and I kept my woman alive a little longer," he confesses. Each word is slower and slower to fall out of his mouth.
"I will die. And you all will die, too,” he adds after a moment.
His words cut deep.
“No, I won’t.”
He coughs again, and more blood sprays over his dirt-crusted shirt.
I could end his suffering right here and let the ghost of his words linger in this cursed grave.
But instead, his voice sounds in my head.You saved those men—let it be enough.
Then compassion moves me again.
"Kill me," he requests. "It would be a kindness."
I look down at him and wonder what my father would do. Would he show mercy upon those who betrayed him? Especially one who had acted out of reasons he deemed noble?
I didn't know.
"I never told them I was suspicious of you," he says a moment later. "Most bought your story, but I knew when I looked at you. You looked like a man with a purpose, not some half-breed. Not something common in this place."
For a moment, I take in the words, and then I let out a long breath.
“Where is your woman?” I ask at last.
He coughs again, and his wheezing intensifies. “She’ll be dead now.”
My mouth parts. “But I thought?—”
“I was meant to bring your head by midnight. They had her ready to hang.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “But maybe…”
“She’s dead. I can feel it,” he chokes. “And now, I wish to follow.”
I nod, then kneel before him. "I will help you.”
The only response is another cough. The man before me is broken beyond repair. Not forgiven, but understood.
For the consideration he gave me, I would grant him compassion with the cold embrace of death.
I form a blade from the ground. The stones come slowly to my palm, pulling past the snow and causing small mounds of white ice crystals to form around my legs, burrowing me in the chill. My hand wraps around the makeshift handle with ease, one that has come to me as I trained over a lifetime of stone bending, and then I plunge it into his heart. There is one last gurgle as the light leaves his eyes.
All that is left is a mangled vessel.
Pushing back to my feet, a bittersweet emotion takes over my senses. I look around at the dead bodies of giants scattered around him.
Being left out to rot among enemies would be a disgraceful end. I am unsettled. Though Abet betrayed me, leaving him out here would speak more of me than him. He acted in cruelty. I do not wish to—not like this.
So I step back and call upon my power once more. The sluggishness is concerning, but I dig and push him into a shallow grave. Once he is covered, I let out a long breath.
My eyes return to the vast sky, where Grutabela lives in the distance. I don't know if I have enough strength to hope that he goes to a place of peace, but I ask the goddess to guide him where he belongs.