The wind blew through the snow as Leara yanked her sword clean. Vordan's body fell sideways and Mersem barely caught him. Warm blood scalded his hands and something else inside him. Not Father...

White strands whipped in the air when Leara merel shook her head and tore forward, to wherever Vera spirited Silke to. Mersem clawed at the blossoming dark patch against his father's coat. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes but the cold sipped them dry before they could even flow.

"Dad, stay with me," Mersem sobbed, his shoulders shaking with each word he managed to cough out. "There's got to be someone who could help us. Someone—"

A hand gripped his arm. He looked down to see his father smiling at him despite the dimming spark in his eyes. "Silke's not the only mistake I'm atoning for," he raised his gaze to the sky, searching for something Mersem wouldn't ever know. "I was the one responsible for uprooting the village you grew up in."

Mersem shook his head and sniffed. "Don't speak. I'll get someone to help you. We can...we can get through this," he looked around, trying to see past the infinite white and the endless cold. "Help us, please! Anyone!"

"Mersem," his father whispered. He looked down once more to find his father's skin already turning gray. No. Not him. Not now. He couldn't—

"I found you after the aftermath of the purge," his father muttered under his breath. Mersem had to lean closer to understand what he was saying. "The King ordered the Order to purge a village for failure to pay taxes. I'm sorry, Mersem. I'm sorry."

Mersem squeezed his father's shoulder as more of his blood stained his arm, his legs, and his boots. He doubted he'd ever remember the time when they weren't doused in red. "It's not your fault," he said. "None of this is. Please, Dad. I'll get you some help."

He moved to stand up but his father coughed. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips. "Aye, it's too late for this old man," Vordan said. "Before I go, I'd like to let you know."

"Know what?"

A small smile crinkled the corners of Vordan's eyes. "You and Silke are the best children I could ever ask for."

Then, the light in his eyes dimmed, matching the lifeless wasteland around them. His grip on Mersem's arm slid off and thumped against the snow. His eyes stared unseeing towards the sky watching over them without any emotion. Despite the cold, a torrent of tears sprung from Mersem's eyes, each drop blazing a trail down his freezing cheeks.

His father couldn't be gone. He couldn't be. It's all so unfair.

"Vera!" Silke's voice rang in the air. Mersem turned to find the mage boy holding Leara at bay by sending a vortex of wind towards her. He cursed. What were they doing here? Shouldn't they be halfway through the town by now?

Mersem set his father's cold body down and staggered up. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and balled his fists. Leara Madris. She should stop. Too many people have been hurt already. Vera, from afar, didn't look that good with blood running down from the side of his face and from a wound coloring his sleeve red. He didn't look like he could maintain whatever magic he was using to hold Leara off. Once that blizzard finishes, the lady knight would surely lunge and skewer them.

Mersem needed to get Silke and the mage boy away from here. A distraction. That's what he's going to do. He looked back to his father's body to find the dark blade still sheathed by his side. That'd have to do. He stalked towards it and drew it from its scabbard. Then, like the idiot he was born to be, he charged towards Leara Madris.

The lady knight saw him coming but she didn't think he'd be brazen enough to swing a sword at her. She ducked and, suddenly, a bolt of wind blew past Mersem's nose and hit her straight in the temples. She plopped into the snow and remained still. Mersem turned to Silke, slinging Vera's arm around her shoulder as the mage boy's knees began to collapse.

"I'll kill her," Silke was muttering under her breath. Much like Mersem, tears ran down her face in steady streams. "I'll kill her."

Mersem called her name and she met his eyes. "Take him and run for the neutral border. Leara wouldn't stay down for long," he jerked his chin into the vague direction of the border. It was just a few feet from where they were.

Silke knitted her eyebrows. Her eyes shifted to Leara who slowly began stirring. "What are you going to do?" Her voice quivered and her tone lost all its strength. "Come with us."

"I'll buy you time," he said, hefting his sword to show her he meant it. "Go home to your family and your people."

She shook her head. "You're my family, Mersem," she said. "Please."

Leara groaned, bracing her sword against the ground and using it to haul herself up. Her face contorted into an annoyed scowl. Mersem glanced behind him to find Silke still hadn't moved. "Go!" He yelled. As much as he didn't like raising his voice at her, he had to.

Silke flinched but schooled her features into a determined frown even though her lower lip still quivered. Then, she turned and ran.

"You never cease being a nuisance, Mersem," Leara breathed, pulling her sword from being stuck in the soil and leveling it at him after dropping into a stance. "Save yourself while I'm still not out for your blood."

Mersem cracked a smile despite the roiling in his gut. The sword had never felt so foreign in his grip. Should he have settled for an ax? "Sorry. Not going to happen."

Leara chuckled, touching her fingers against the stream of blood streaming from her temple. "Pity," she said. "I would've married you after completing this quest."

He scoffed. "Sorry again," he said. "You're not my type."

Then, Leara's sword flashed in the light and Mersem raised his own to parry it. His feet skidded against the snow as she bore down on him. He gritted his teeth and pushed back. Like how he saw from her cadet days, she leaped away before bearing towards him again with the same usual forward strike angled to pierce his heart.

As someone who watched the way she fought with religious devotion, Mersem knew she relied on her speed and on the possibility of her enemy not knowing where she would strike. That's why she chose the rapier. It's because it's impossible to tell where the target was supposed to be.

But Mersem knew. Her first blows would always be to the shoulder which would weaken her opponent's grip on their weapon. It'd be an easy win from there. The moment he saw the all-too-familiar move bearing towards him, he shifted his weight, lowered his sword, and only brought it up to parry her strike as soon as it entered his sword's range.

A loud clang reverberated into the air and up his arms as he stumbled back. Leara growled and shifted her hold at the hilt. Then, she struck again. Mersem leaped away, his soles stirring the snow any more than he liked to. If she failed to pierce the sword arm, she'd go to the legs. She'd incapacitate the enemy by cutting off its means to keep moving.

That's what she did. It's either a slash for the knees or a pierce towards the thigh. Leara went for the slash. Mersem swung his sword and blocked her strike before the blade could touch his trousers. She staggered away. "How are you doing this?" she screamed.

Mersem smiled. "It's a secret," he wiped against the sweat forming on his forehead. He must have been really tensed up considering he's sweating in the middle of the freezing cold. "Let this quest go."

Leara snarled and angled her sword yet again and lunged. "Never!" she shrieked. "That promotion will be mine!"

This time, Mersem's mind blanked. What would be her next move after this? He raised his sword and watched for the whip of silver hungry for his flesh. He managed to parry and block, stepping back with each motion. He could never drive Leara back. Not when she's charged up like this.

"I...will not waste my only chance to be the Captain of the Guard!" she screamed as she hammered down on Mersem. "Get out of my way!"

Gone was the graceful woman who believed in the honor of their code. At this point, she wasn't Leara Madris. She's just someone who wouldn't stop at anything to get what she wanted...even forsaking her own morality.

Mersem had nothing but pity for her.

Back and forth, their blades screeched against each other. Leara's strikes were nothing but blurs in Mersem's periphery and whizzes of wind in his ears. His sword danced along in an awkward pace, barely hanging on. He lost track of how long he had been here. Had Silke and Vera cleared the town?

Leara screamed one last time as she swept her sword against Mersem's body. Blood flew bright red against the dark sky. That...

"Stand down," she poised her sword against his neck as his knees gave out and sank into the snow. "I'd hate to hurt you more than this."

Mersem raised a shaking hand and pressed it against his stomach. His gloves came away slick with a dark liquid coming off from his own body. Then, as if an errant breeze blew past him, he toppled sideways, his cheek hitting the snow. The smell of earth and rust had never been so pungent.

As his consciousness began slipping, Leara's boots surged forward towards the direction Silke had gone. His breath hitched. No. He couldn't let that happen. He lunged forward with what strength was left in his limbs and gripped Leara's ankle.

"For the love of—" Leara shook her foot. "Get off me!"

Mersem raised his head despite the lightness creeping in his head and blurring his vision. "No."

"Do you have a death wish?" she demanded.

He smiled against the pain slowly gripping his gut and the rest of his body. "No," he said. "But I did hold you off until Silke reached the neutral border so that's a good job done."

Realization passed across Leara's face as she looked towards the direction where the neutral border was. Her cheeks flushed, matching the pool of red making a carpet underneath her soles. Then, she clutched her hair and screamed.

"You will pay for this," she jabbed a finger at Mersem. Through his hazy senses, all he heard was a series of jumbled words and the acid dripping off of her voice. "You will pay!"

Something crunched, thumped, and screeched. With a scream, Leara thrust her sword down, straight through Mersem's body. He jerked without his control, feeling more pain spread into his veins. The last thing he saw before his vision completely vanished were strands of white hair flying in the bitter wind, flecked with spots of blood—his blood—and the manic smile painting the face that once belonged to Leara Madris.

Without looking back, she turned and walked away.

Then, the darkness claimed Mersem.

He was remembered no more.