I WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO FALL ASLEEP, EVEN IF I WANT TO. LUCKILY, I DON’T WANT TO. MY MIND KEEPS GOING around in circles, thinking of everything that could go wrong.

The billions of stars above form a sea of colourful lights. Not one of them is the same. Some are even bright violets and blues.

I can remember all the nights where Mother would pull me out of bed and we’d run out to the training field. Lying on our backs, we’d watch the stars above, trying to catch as many shooting stars as we could.

A wave of nostalgia washes over me, but I push it away, turning from the window. Lain on my bed is my suit of Guardian armour. I stand before the mirror, picturing it on. I can imagine myself out of the heavy, thick, black leather, and into the light battle gear. I look up from the leather clothing and catch the first glimpse of myself—the first I’ve had in a long time. The first thing that comes to mind is a pond. I don’t look like a pond, that would be weird. But that comes to mind. A smooth, clear, calm surface, giving nothing away of the fish, scuttling in fear underneath. Of a single fish struggling to get rid of the predator, but attempts fruitless. Of the fear as the predator gains and then you know that with one swipe, you’re gone.

That is what I see. I don’t know who I am anymore. I am small compared to all the men in the army. Small, but collected. But that is not who I am. I’m nothing but lost in anguish and confused. I can’t remember my age or my birthday, all those minor details forgotten, long ago, in the Western forest. I think I’m ruffly between fifteen and seventeen, but beyond that, I don’t have a clue. All the details are blurry. I forget everything but my history.

I am lost, shattered beyond repair. All that I had left is Carrie, but now… Darsal, stop talking about her in the past. Zak promised, and he wouldn’t lie. Carrie is going to be fine. A knock interrupted my thoughts. I take my burlap bag and add the Guardian battle gear to it before pushing the material used for a door, away. Zak is standing outside, but I take a moment to see him under the cover of darkness.

“Darsal,” he hisses, then his voice softens, “Darsal, are you okay?”

Until now, I haven’t noticed the silent tears tracing my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away and say a yes, a little too quickly. He wouldn’t lie, I remember.

Zak looks at me for a long moment, as if waiting for me to change my mind. I don’t, instead, put a challenging look on my face to hide behind it. Zak doesn’t take the challenge of asking me again. He pulls a pair of handcuffs, hanging at his waist. I glare at him, hand instinctively going to a throwing knife strapped against my thigh. He seems to notice his mistake and whispers:

“Trust me. It’s only if we get caught, it won’t look too suspicious.”

I hesitate before giving him my non-dominant hand, keeping my other one next to my knife. I know throwing knives isn't a Scriptio thing, but it's more of a comfort thing. Ever since I’m a small girl, I’ve carried them everywhere, and this old habit has saved my life more than just once.

Zak handcuffs my wrist to his own, but much looser than usual: loose enough for me to slip my hand out without too much trouble. I follow him, careful not to wake Scriptios in nearby tents. It’s only a couple of tents down that there are the HQs. Our eyes scrutinize where the stone meets the dirt.

“There,” whispers Zak, pointing to a small window, iron bars over it.

I work at the bars. One by one they give way. Zak throws down a rope. I can already see that Zak won’t be able to fit in the small window. I slide down by myself. All the prisoners are asleep. I pass everyone. Carrie isn’t there. There is only one cell left: the one I and Zak had first stayed in. I quietly sneak up and it’s... empty. I run to the rope and climb back up to the top. Zak can tell by my expression that it wasn’t a success.

“Where can she be?” I whisper.

He seems just as confused as I am. We’re just about to turn back when we hear a muffled scream. We quietly creep along the edge of the wall until we reach the door.

Two throw knives, and we’re past the guards. We slip past the door, hiding behind a statue of the goddess Diana. I nearly scream when I see the mess before me. Zak’s hand clamps over my mouth, preventing me from yelling.

I try to free myself from his grip, but he winds an arm around my waist, making it impossible to move. Tears silently fall down my cheeks, overlapping Zak’s hand. Carrie is lying on the floor, motionless. Blood drips down her face. She seems to be unconscious. Or dead. Towering over her is none other than General Sanderson.

"Shhh, Darsal. She’s okay. We’re going to get her out of here," Zak gently whispers in my ear, careful to keep his voice low.

I silently let the tears slide down my face, something I would normally hate myself for doing. Rule 1: never show weakness. But they already know it, and I can’t hold it any longer.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t do that,” I can hear Zak whispering, but I can’t help it.

And for the first time, I realize that he’s scared. Maybe even just as scared as I am. I can feel his chest rise and fall shakily, and I stop. We don’t have time for my outbursts. I take a deep breath to calm my quivering body. I pull Zak’s hand from my mouth, all while keeping my eyes on Carrie.

“You’re right,” I whisper back.

He gives me a strange look, “That I don’t like it when girls cry?”

“No. We’re going to get her out,” I say, muffling a laugh, “We just need a distraction. Something to bring him away.”

I think for a very long time, but nothing comes to mind.

“I can’t think of anything, but if he goes through the main door, we can go into the prison, and then out the window, you first went through,” Zak whispers.

“Zak, is the rope still hanging in the window?” he nods, “I’m going to lure him out, probably talk or something.”

I take in a big breath. I know that if Zak is still loyal, this should work, but if not, well, I’ll probably end up executed for having tried.

“Can you take Carrie when I bring him out? Down and out the window?”

He nods. His greenish eyes are hesitant only for a split second.

“Uh, thanks. I know what trouble you could be in,” I say before sliding away into the shadow of a pillar.

I can see Zak pause, sending a long, pained glance over at my little sister before silently sliding away. I take in a deep breath to calm my nerves.

We’re going to get her out, Darsal, We’re going to get Carrie out of the Scriptio camp, I think. My stomach churns. Each time I think of what Carrie might associate me with, tears threaten to overtake me, but I push them down, slinking out of the building.