Enchanted -N. Lantsov

You Weren't Mine to Lose

Olysia was left to her own devices for the next three days. Everyone else was too occupied transporting shipments from across the Fold. Olysia had taken the time to ignore any and all thoughts she might have and instead made Alina her new kefta that she wouldn't yet wear. She made it in the same color as any summoner, blue with golden embroidery, how it was before the Darkling tried to stain her with his color. She also took it upon herself to treat all of Alina's coats the same way she would with corpcloth to keep her safe should anyone find out who she was.

She offered her services to the First Army, to help the engineers and mechanics to fix any problems that she could but they would look at her in disgust and spit at her until she got out of their sight.

Tensions had always been high between the two King's Armies but after that everything that transpired when the Fold expanded, it appeared their hate became more apparent.
Once again, Olysia was left alone. Not that it was anything new for her but she grew comfortable with the routine on the Sturmhond's ship. She might not have contributed much to any conversation but the people still tried including her and Olysia would deny it if anyone were to ask her but she missed it.

Those times were long gone and Olysia was well aware of it now. It was like all the progress she made was forgotten and her blank faces and quiet demeanor made their long awaited return.

Olysia could not be more thankful they were finally leaving, she was getting restless. Olysia was just thankful to be riding next to Alina. She wasn't sure if she could stand the dirty looks from the soldiers anymore or she might do something she would regret.

Olysia couldn't even fault them for their anger. Her former leader was the sole person responsible for so many innocent deaths, for their fellow soldiers deaths with a single act that she was complacent in. They had every right to look at her like she was a monster, because she was one.

And she was reminded of it as they reached the main church of Kribirsk. The walls were covered in row after row of names written in red paint. The steps were littered with heaps of withered flowers, small painted icons, the melted stubs of prayer candles, bottles of kvas, piles of candy, the abandoned toys laid forgotten as mementos for the dead.

The dead she was partially responsible for. The guilt seared so painfully in her chest that Olysia felt like she was going to burn from the inside out. It was clawing up her throat and suffocating her. It was not nearly enough to compensate for all the evil she allowed solely because she was scared for her own life. How selfish could she be?

Enough for millions to be slaughtered evidently.

Olysia could not stomach looking at the names of those she helped condemn to an early grave. There were so many rows and each had their own life, lives they could never fulfill, breaths of air that would never be taken, time that she had helped steal from them. Olysia turned her head and saw Alina was reading the names along the church's walls.  Mal seemed to notice as well and brought his horse up beside hers.