Rain pelted against his skin.

His feet were heavy. Every step ached as though shards of glass were being wedged into his heel. He staggered. And then he stumbled. He managed to catch himself before he fell but he hadn't several times before. Mud clung to his tattered clothes. It clung to his tattered skin. It weighed him down. He carried it with him. He'd always carried a heavy burden. What was a little bit more?

The blood was worse. He'd had it on his hands and smeared it against his face. It tangled into his hair. What was once white now seemed something more akin to gray or brown. He hadn't had a chance to look at himself in a mirror. He just knew that blood and dirt and grease and knots had all piled on his scalp, weighing him down.

In his hands, he clutched a dark sack. He'd taken it from one of the bodies. He couldn't remember if it was originally dark or if that was due to all the blood and mud. He'd carried it with him all this way. His fingers were numb where he clutched the bag shut. His arm ached in protest of its weight. He couldn't let go, though. He couldn't. He'd carried it all this way. He couldn't let go of it now.

The gates of Hebikoti Palace were before him.

The guards called out to him. They didn't recognize him. He didn't blame them. He didn't look very much like himself. He also wasn't in the mood to deal with them. He made a gesture and the plants opened the gates for him. They were much more loyal, much more obedient, than any human servant that he knew.

He hobbled through the courtyard. Hebikoti Palace was aglow with candlelight and music that could be heard even from out here. He limped up the steps. Each one was agony. Yet he forced himself to continue. The plants opened the front doors for him as well.

The first servant who saw him screamed. The second did not dare make a sound. He walked through the halls, dripping rain. Dripping mud. Dripping blood. Dripping war. All of it pooled on the floor, staining the expensive carpet. He didn't care. He had come all this way. He had to continue. He couldn't stop now.

The sound of music grew louder the closer he came to the banquet hall. Anger rose in his chest, blooming like a beautiful red rose. He tried to straighten his posture. He tried to make himself look a bit more presentable. But then again, he had just come from war. Why ought he hide that fact for their comfort? They had been drinking, feasting, dancing, lazing while he had been fighting and killing for them.

Nerluce told the plants to open the banquet doors.

The musicians missed a note. It sounded shrill. Then they stopped playing. And everyone stopped talking. And all merriment was put on pause as Nerluce staggered through the banquet hall, darkened with filth and reeking of death. There was a thud. Someone had fainted. Nerluce's lip curled.

If one fainted just by looking at him, what would they do if they witnessed the horrors he'd committed? What would they do if they had been forced to commit those same horrors? But no. They got to live a life of luxury. They got to dress in fine robes. They got to bathe and wash their hair. They got everything Nerluce wanted.

And they would never have to kill another human being. And they would never have to wake up every couple of hours, screaming. And they would never try to wipe away blood only for it to smear across their entire face until it was all they could see. All they could smell. All they could taste. They never had to suffer but they just... got everything that Nerluce was fighting so hard for.

He reached the front of the room. Lord Father was standing there. Coam and Princess Yume were together on one side. All three of them looked utterly horrified.

Nerluce smiled. "I'm home," he said.

"Nerluce," Lord Father said.

Nerluce's smile grew even wider. Lord Father had acknowledged him. That was nice. It still sent a rush of happiness every time it happened. Nerluce wanted to be praised more. He'd fought hard. He'd done his duty. Good work deserved good rewards. That was what Lord Father always said. And Nerluce had done good work.

He had plenty of proof.

"I brought something," Nerluce said. "A trophy."

"Did... you?" Lord Father asked.

Nerluce nodded and held up the bag. The one he'd carried all this way. He offered it to Lord Father as a child offered their favorite toy.

But Lord Father was not a soldier. Nor was he a man who had probably ever touched something as filthy as the bag that Nerluce was offering now. As such, he hesitated. Nerluce realized his error and retracted the back. He set it on the floor instead. The entire hall was still dead silent. Nerluce filled that silence by humming as he opened the bag that he'd carried all the way back and pulled out the trophy he'd worked so hard to bring to Lord Father.

Bicolored hair spilled from the bag. Nerluce smiled as he held it. It wasn't a pretty sight. Several days in a bag would do that. Not to mention it had been rather hot... but it was still plenty recognizable to anyone who had seen her before. There wasn't another woman alive with hair like hers. Even half-rotted and without eyes it was obvious what Nerluce's gift was.

The head of the High Priestess of Ethera.

"She tried to cut off my head, but now she's good and dead," Nerluce said. A small giggle escaped him. He put his hand over his mouth but couldn't contain himself anymore. He laughed. Why shouldn't he? It was funny. "That rhymed. I didn't mean to rhyme." He laughed again.

"Luce..." Coam said.

Nerluce stopped laughing. He cocked his head. "Coam."

"What have you done?"

Nerluce didn't understand what she meant. What had he done? He had done what he was ordered to do. Stop Ethera. He had stopped them. All of them. Did the High Priestess's head not make that evident? Nerluce had killed her. Nerluce had saved all of the Hebikoti Clan, all of Itoroh from her. So what did Coam mean?

Nerluce frowned. "I stuffed the hag's head in a bag." He smiled and then felt the need to clarify, "That rhymed on purpose."

"You've lost your mind," Lord Father said.

"Yes?" Nerluce said.

Obviously, he'd lost it. He had lost it a long, long, long, long time ago. Back when he was a little kid, left out in the snow. And then he lost it again when he was forced to abandon the people he was closest to and kill. He had to kill people. Who could still have their mind after that? Why was Lord Father just now noticing that Nerluce barely had any mind left? Just a tiny sliver he could use to make rhymes and hum.

But that was all he really needed anyway.

The people in the banquet hall started to whisper. The noise annoyed Nerluce. He didn't like whispers. They brushed up against his ears, tickling his brain. He glared, fiercely and the room quieted some but... not completely. The world was full of whispers and there was nothing Nerluce could do to get rid of them entirely.

"It's true," Lord Father said. "It must be."

"No," Coam said, shaking her head. "It can't be true. You said so yourself, earlier." Her eyes were wide and desperate. "It can't be."

"Look at him, Juncoam!" Lord Father said, raising his voice and silencing the whispers temporarily. Nerluce flinched back at the loudness and intensity of Lord Father's voice. Then... he drew in on himself, coughing. Sickly old man. He didn't have much time left, did he? "Look at him... they didn't lie."

"No..." Coam croaked.

"What is true?" Nerluce asked. He didn't know what boldness possessed him to cut into the conversation like this but he wasn't afraid. Just a bit annoyed he didn't know what was happening.

Lord Father looked down at him. His expression was darker than Nerluce could ever remember it being. "You are Darkest Shadow, aren't you?"

"That name again..." Nerluce grumbled.

"Again?" Coam asked, her face white as paper. Whiter. White as her hair which, unlike Nerluce's hair, was clean. Recently washed in a bath and styled by servants. "What do you mean again? Who called you this name before?"

"She did." Nerluce lifted the High Priestess's head. "But now she's... rid..." He frowned. "I don't think that one works."

"Nerluce!" Coam said. "Focus."

"Juncoam," Lord Father said, glaring down at Coam. "If Ethera's... old High Priestess saw it too... we can't deny it any longer." He turned his glare onto Nerluce. "Nerluce, you are Darkest Shadow and you murdered the High Priestess when she tried to apprehend you."

"I did," Nerluce said. "And all the Seraphs and Priests she brought with her."

Not one of them survived. But... not one of them had tried to. They all stepped onto Hebikoti land and they had to pay the price.

The room was hissing with whispers once more.

"Shut up!" Nerluce snapped at them.

They listened, thank the gods. Nerluce half thought he'd have to kill every last one of them to get them to stop whispering.

"Nerluce," Lord Father said.

"Lord Father," Nerluce said.

"I once told you that good work deserves a good reward." Lord Father came down from the dais slowly, one step at a time. His sickly and aged form could not move swiftly. Nerluce straightened and smiled. This was the part where he was rewarded for everything he'd done. "Well, in that case, foul work deserves a foul reward. Do you agree?"

"I suppose," Nerluce said.

He didn't understand where this was going.

Lord Father pulled a sword from one of the disciples standing nearby. Nerluce frowned as Lord Father handed him the blade. It wasn't of any particularly special quality. It looked like a standard blade given to disciples before going into battle. There were a hundred more like it in the weaponry.

"You have committed a grave sin," Lord Father said, slowly as though he were speaking to a child. "The High Priestess of Ethera meant us no harm but you killed her."

"But-"

"Silence," Lord Father said. "Nerluce, you have to take responsibility. You aren't a child anymore." His tone was solemn. "You understand that because of the severity of your crime there is only one option." Nerluce shook his head. No. He had- he had just done what Lord Father told him to do. He didn't understand! "Nerluce either you can die with some honor or your name will be struck from the record and your body not buried with your family's. Do what is right."

An order. Nerluce recognized it in Lord Father's tone.

Lord Father wanted Nerluce to... he expected Nerluce to... kill himself. In order to atone for a crime that Lord Father himself had ordered Nerluce to commit. It wasn't... it wasn't his fault. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone. He had never wanted to kill anyone. He had been happy in Ethera but Lord Father had dragged him into this life.

And now Nerluce had to die for it? It wasn't fair! Nerluce wanted to throw a fit, kicking and screaming and crying like a child. Surely everyone had to know that- had to realize- Nerluce looked around but found no allies. Even Coam was refusing to look at him, sobbing softly into Princess Yume's shoulder. Nerluce looked down at the sword. Everyone... everyone wanted him to die.

He unsheathed it. He stared into his reflection. A stranger stared back at Nerluce. A stranger with red eyes and blood on his face. A stranger who would lift a dead woman's head with his bare hands without recoiling in disgust and horror. Nerluce didn't know who he was. Perhaps... perhaps Lord Father was right... perhaps it would be better if Nerluce died. And... he had been offered an honorable death. He could still be remembered somewhat fondly.

Nerluce could still die with his name and family.

With a trembling breath, Nerluce lifted the blade. All his life he'd been a slave to his family's whims. All his life he played the role they wanted him to play. When they ordered him to go to Ethera, to Ethera he went. When they told him to come home, home he came. When they told him to kill, he killed. When they told him to smile, he smiled. How was this any different?

Nerluce's life had been one long string of commands that he'd willingly obliged. Why should his death be any different?

He positioned the blade. He inhaled. He apologized to Aristide. He really wanted to love him and make a life with him. To Lyana and Eko. He really wanted to be their friend and comrade. To Taayir. He really had wanted to be like her, powerful and kind in her own strange way. To Lady Mother and Lady Okiachi and Lady Fonbi and Coam. He really wanted to be their family, someone he could be proud of.

Tears stung Nerluce's eyes. Shit. He wished things could be different. Nerluce exhaled and tried to release all of his regrets with that final breath.

Then, he sliced.

Once white hair hit the floor behind Nerluce. The cut was crude but it had worked. Nerluce's hair, something he'd spent his entire life without cutting, clumped together on the carpet. He looked at it and then lifted his gaze to Lord Father. Nerluce had lived his entire life doing what this man had told him. And he was sick of it.

So Nerluce Hebikoti could die. What the fuck did he care? Hebikoti was a cursed name anyway. Nerluce would be just that from now on. Nerluce. Nerluce with no last name, no family at all. He had never made a single decision in his life up until this point.

But not he was done.

"No," Nerluce said. "I don't think I will. And I don't think you have the power to kill me." He lifted the High Priestess's head. "She didn't."

And with that, Nerluce turned and left Hebikoti Palace once and for all.