Xigon pushed his dagger between his enemy's ribs, slicing deep into his lung. Haode tensed up with a choking wet gasp, blood spurting out as the blade cut a major artery. When he was sure he'd done enough damage, Xigon pulled the dagger from the wound. Haode’s cry drowned in profuse bleeding.

For an instant, his heart glowed with the grim satisfaction he had come to know like an old friend – the violent delight of an excellent kill.

The next instant, pity overwhelmed all else.

Xigon grabbed his terrified enemy and laid him down, cradling his head and neck so he could breathe a little easier. Spare him any needless torture. "Don't be afraid." He kept his tone as gentle as he could. "It's over. It's all over."

Color drained rapidly from Haode's skin. He said something Xigon couldn't make out. His voice was too shaky and weak to understand, but it sounded like he was pleading for help.

Though it hurt something deep inside him, the master refused to flinch or avert his eyes. Instead, Xigon clasped Haode's hand as it turned bluish from blood loss and told him softly what he needed to hear.

Though it took several minutes for Haode to lose consciousness and several more for him to bleed out, his death was quiet and calm, like returning to sleep after a nightmare.

_____________

This thing we call life exists only for an instant between two oblivions. We are made in darkness, pushed screaming into this world, then pulled whimpering back, forgotten as we were conceived – within a single breath – and the universe does not even blink.

That is the first law of being. We are nothing.

_____________

An instant between two oblivions. A single breath in troubled air. Insignificant. Xigon knew this scar should not weigh any heavier than the thousands before it. And yet...

As he watched Haode's heat go dark, Xigon was overcome with a pain so intense that it made his breathing hitch. He blinked. Everything was blurry without his goggles. His eyes had never hurt this much. Nothing had given him pain like this in recent memory, not even the dose of Rager. Stranger still, the urge of impending death did not leave him, even though he knew the man bleeding in his arms had died. Xigon knew he had not failed. If he wanted someone dead, they died. That was how it always was.

He might as well have been a child crushing an insect. He certainly felt that small.

Confused, Xigon bent for a closer look. His vision only got blurrier. He checked for a pulse and found none. Still, Xigon's head was pounding. He could hear his own heartbeat, but even that was barely enough to punctuate the harsh ringing in his ears. His spine tingled as if his own power were somehow turning on him.

"Dakko, stop crying or you'll hurt yourself." Ido sounded in tears himself. "Dakko, please!"

Xigon jolted as if he had been struck by Ido's lightning. His eyes darted and found the boys' heat. Ido stood at a cautious distance, arms wrapped tight around his struggling brother.

"Come here." Xigon was taken aback by how weary his own voice sounded.

"No!" Ido yanked Dakko back, nearly throwing him. "You demon, you — !"

"Ido, it's all right." Dakko's tone was eerily calm. "Master Xigon won't hurt us."

Ido let go of Dakko and fell to his knees with a scream. The sound was like an ice dagger through Xigon's heart. His eyes burned with a sharper pain. Tears, he realized. He'd ripped the ground out from under these children.

Dakko crawled over and laid a frost-encrusted hand on Haode's bloody chest. Xigon stayed quiet. It seemed best to say nothing.

Dakko broke the silence. "He didn't need Kolo after all." He let out a breath so cold it was nearly liquid. "He didn't even need us. He needed you."

Xigon didn't look up.

"You were so gentle." Dakko's voice took on a strange tone, one that made Xigon's skin crawl. "So gentle...I..."

"It's pointless to punish a dying man," said the master. His eyes strayed to the blurry shape of Ido running off, perhaps returning to the others. "Pointless and cruel. But..." Xigon raised a hand to his face. "It almost feels like he's still suffering."

"He's not." The boy's cold fingers brushed against Xigon's arm. "We were never able to calm him down when he cried. But you could do it."

Xigon's jaw clenched. How could anyone be so sure?

Dakko cocked his head. "Xigon?"

Shivers ripped through his aching muscles. Heat flared in front of him, so bright it was like staring at the sun. The tears that spilled down his cheeks were like boiling water. "It's nothing." He sputtered a flimsy excuse without even thinking about it. "I mean, I see something. It's..."

Only one thing was clear in his vision, and it should not have been there.

"Dakko." He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. "I need you to leave now. Go back to Qila and the others. Let them know what's happened, but don't let anyone come looking for me. I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Why won't you come back now?" Dakko asked. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't know what's happening," Xigon admitted. "But no matter what it is, I don't want anyone else to get hurt. Understand?"

Dakko nodded. "All right."

The boy's joints cracked and he cried in agony as he pulled himself up. Xigon barely saw him leave through the increasingly bright aura of unnatural heat.

With no warning, Xigon's energy crashed. He crumpled. The world went dark and he slept.

He woke up after only a few minutes, but was even more exhausted than before. When he sat up, the first thing he saw was heat. Familiar heat this time, which put him at ease somewhat. Then he scowled. "I was very clear. No one was to come looking for me." He was surprised by the anger in his own voice.

"I know." Azvalath sat down with him and put a hand on his wrist. "Thing is, I'm not a good listener."

Xigon couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Neither am I."

Azvalath's grip shifted to clasp Xigon's hand. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No." It seemed the only correct answer, even when it was a lie.

"The boys told us what happened." Azvalath gave his hand a squeeze. "And Dakko told me to thank you."

"For what?" Xigon's gaze drifted to the man he'd killed.

"For being merciful, he said." Azvalath looked down. "I probably wouldn't have been so kind, you know."

"But you're honest, and that's more than I can say." Xigon rubbed his eyes. "How did Kolo do? Did she make it through?"

"Yes." Azvalath's voice brightened. "She's still back at the tree. Probably wondering where we are." He stood up. "Well? Let's not keep her waiting, Master."

Xigon braced himself against a tree trunk to stand up. The pain in his back and legs was intense.

Azvalath handed him a long stick. "Here. I know just a walking stick makes your wrist hurt, but it's probably better than nothing."

Xigon nodded. "Thank you." Then he looked back at his slain enemy. "Carry him, will you?"

Azvalath cocked his head. "What?"

"Out of respect for Dakko and Ido, we should lay him to rest properly." Xigon cast his eyes down. "Remember, Azvalath. There's no point in punishing someone who's dead or dying."

Eventually, Azvalath obeyed.

Xigon walked with him back to the rest of the group. He couldn't make out anyone's features without his goggles. No one except Kolo.

Kolo stood firm, feet planted in the snow stained with her own blood. She held her head high, proud beneath a mask in the likeness of an eagle skull.

She was neither devil nor child. She was miraculous and inexplicable, like life itself. It really was like looking straight into the Iron God's heart.

Kolo turned to acknowledge them. She took one step and stumbled but didn't fall. Even if she had fallen, Xigon knew nothing could knock her down and keep her there. Defeat was not a word she knew.

[33] Xigon: What Follows Dreams

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