Warfire | Broken Time Series: Book Two

Chapter 44

Rage filled every fiber of Fai's being. How could he have let this happen? Not one, but two of his kids were dead. But rage would do him nothing in this situation, not as four grieving children sat in front of him. There was a fifth somewhere within the camp, but that one would have to wait until Meixong returned.

The medics bustled around Nagan and Az tucked away in the corner while he, Aitor, and Milora sat off to the side and out of the way. Nagan's shoulder wasn't nearly as bad as the amount of blood suggested. He would have to take small doses of a potion every morning and night to ward off the minor infection. Az took care of it well, as those were the types of wounds he could treat. His own leg, on the other hand, was too deep, tearing all the way through his thigh and barely missing the artery. Fai watched Az's slow, deep breaths from the magical sleep he was put under to recover.

Aitor polished one of Milora's daggers while Milora sat quietly next to Fai, leaning against him ever so slightly. She managed to escape relatively unharmed. But the mental toll made up for it, as she had yet to speak a word since first getting on Chenshui. Fai nearly jumped when she did speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Can...you talk to Nagan? I'm worried for him..." She glanced at the teen in question a few cots down and next to Az. "Something's not right, and he'll listen to you."

Fai followed Milora's gaze and was met with something he had seen before: the expression of someone with a dead man's blood on their hands. Something hollow and haunting as they stared straight ahead and not fully present. He had seen it many times on young soldiers' faces, and he was sure he wore the same while cleaning his sword of blood for the first time. It looked much different on a face so young, however.

With an understanding nod, Fai stood, careful not to come up on Nagan's blind spot. Nagan didn't acknowledge his approach, keeping himself hunched over with his elbows on his knees, but nor did he jump when Fai laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's talk outside."

Whether or not Nagan heard Milora's request, Nagan nodded and stood, following Fai silently as they stepped back out into the cool, winter air. Nagan left his cloak inside. On instinct, Fai took off his cloak and draped it over Nagan's shoulders, ignoring the way Nagan's eyebrow twitched. He then brought them over to one of the fires still lit and prompted Nagan to sit. Nagan obeyed without question.

Together, they sat in silence. Fai knew they wouldn't be there for long, however. It would take months—or even years—before Nagan would heal from his experience. Fai would be a fool if he thought simply talking to Nagan would even soothe the crippling anguish he could only imagine the other was feeling. No, this was not something he could fix, but he could hope that whatever came of this conversation would set the boy on a path toward peace.

Nagan muttered something under his breath, immediately catching Fai's attention.

"What?"

"All of this is my fault!" Nagan snapped, casting a furious gaze at Fai, but Fai could see the hurt that lay underneath. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Quite the opposite," Fai responded gently. "Nagan, you know that's not true—"

"It is now. Out of all who wanted to continue, I'm the only one left alive! I thought—I thought I could get them out if something happened. What was I thinking? I'm the reason they're dead." Nagan's face suddenly fell. Tears filled his eyes as he seemed to hit a realization, and a self-deprecating smile donned his expression. "Why am I still alive? Why am I still here?"

Fai was quick to grab Nagan's arm, kneeling in front of him to force the boy to face him.

"No, stop that thought right now," Fai said firmly. "You had no way of knowing this would happen, and you shouldn't have been sent into that situation in the first place. This is not your fault. None of it."

Nagan swallowed down a sob. "Then why does it feel like it?"

"Because..." Fai paused, mulling over his words carefully. There were many things he could say at that moment, things that Nagan had yet to learn about the world they lived in. But that couldn't be explained by words alone, because the reality was, nothing could prepare Nagan for what his future held, Fai knew.

Fai's hand moved down to Nagan's, and he gripped a cold, unmarked hand in his. He couldn't look Nagan in the eyes, instead focusing on their hands. For as long as time would allow him, he needed to be there for the boy, to guide him in a world he was not prepared to face alone.

"You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You care so much and have always stood up for what you believe is right. While your perspective is still growing, you act with good in mind. The world is harsh to people like you. Over and over you will be challenged—torn down and thrown to the ground—and you'll find yourself believing there isn't any good left. Do not submit to that thought. Instead, I need you to focus on who's alive; focus on who you can still protect. Cherish that and guard it. It's there where you will continue finding good.

"A few months ago, Meixong asked why you were here. I won't accept your answer now, but when you're ready, I want you to tell me what you're fighting for. Can you do that?"

Fai then looked back at Nagan. The remnants of tears streaked down his face, but slowly, ever so slowly, Fai could see the fire in Nagan's eyes rekindling. He may not have fully understood what Fai was saying at that moment, but he was beginning to. And Fai could see that. Nagan slowly nodded after a few moments.

"I'll try."

"Good. I look forward to your answer."