The mud sucks at your boots. It is thick. It is cold. You drag your leg forward. You drag it again. The forest is dark. The air smells of rot and iron. You are not alone. You are with Elias. He walks beside you. He does not speak. He holds his sword loose in his hand. It is a good sword. It is the only good thing left to you.

You have been walking for hours. The rain has stopped. The sky is gray. It is the color of old wool. You look at Elias. His face is hard. His eyes are dry. He looks at the trees. He looks at the ground. He does not look at you. Not anymore.

This is wrong. This is not how it was. In the village, you were brothers. You were more than brothers. You were one thing. Two halves of a single shield. The village called you the Twins of Ash. They said you moved together. They said you thought together. They were wrong. You never thought together. You just bled together. And now the bleeding has stopped. And the silence is loud.

"Stop," Elias says.

His voice is flat. It cuts the air. You stop. Your breath is a white cloud. It rises and fades.

"Wait here," he says.

"I will not leave you," you say.

"You will."

"You cannot make me."

He looks at you. His face is a mask. There is no fear in it. There is no pity. There is only duty. He turns and walks into the tree line. You do not move. You stand in the open clearing. The mud stains your knees. Your hands shake. You look at the spot where he stood. The grass is crushed. It will take time to stand up again.

You wait. The minutes pass. The forest is still. A bird cries. It sounds like a scream. Then it is gone. You check your sword. The leather is wet. The steel is dull. You rub it with your thumb. The metal is cold. It bites into your skin.

You think of the village. You think of the old hall. The fire in the hearth. The smell of roasting meat. You think of the faces. Old Thomas. Young Mary. The priest. They all watched you. They all watched Elias. They looked at you with fear. They looked at you with suspicion. They did not trust you. They did not trust Elias. But they trusted the law. They trusted the King’s order.

The order was simple. One of you must go. One of you must die. The King said so. The King said the other is a traitor. The King said the other has spoken against the Crown. The King did not say which one. He let you decide. He let you choose.

You chose. You chose Elias. You told the King you saw him whispering. You told the King you saw him meet with the enemy. You lied. You knew he was innocent. You knew the whispers were only words. You knew the meeting was a mistake. But you did it. You did it because you were afraid. You were afraid of the cold. You were afraid of the dark. You were afraid of being alone.

And Elias? Elias did not run. He did not fight. He simply let you take the blame. He let you be the hero. He let you be the survivor. He looked at you with those dry eyes. He did not scream. He did not curse. He just nodded. He said, "Go." And he walked into the snow.

He is not dead. He is alive. He is out there. And he is coming back for you.

A branch snaps. You turn. Your hand goes to your hilt. Elias stands in the light. He is not holding his sword. His hands are open. His palms are up.

"Come," he says.

"I killed you," you say. Your voice is a whisper. It cracks.

"No," he says. "You did not kill me. You saved me. You took the blame. You took the pain. You let the village think I was the traitor. You let them hate me. You let them fear me. And you stayed. You stayed and you suffered. And now they hate you too."

He steps closer. The mud stains his boots. His face is pale. His eyes are red.

"They think we are both traitors," he says. "They think we are both guilty. They have burned our home. They have taken our lands. They have scattered our people. And they have come for us."

You look at him. You look at his hands. They are empty. They are trembling.

"Why?" you ask.

"Because we are strong," he says. "Because we are together. They cannot have us separate. They must have us whole. And then they must have us dead."

You understand. The King’s order was a lie. The King did not want one of you. The King wanted both of you. The King wanted to break the bond. He wanted to see if you would break. And you did. You broke him. You broke your own heart. And now the King wants to finish the job.

Elias extends his hand. He holds it out to you. It is a small gesture. It is the most terrifying thing you have ever seen.

"Take it," he says.

"I will not."

"You must."

"If I take it, I am a traitor again."

"If you do not take it, you are a coward. And I will die alone. And you will live with that. You will live with the weight of my death. You will carry it until the grave."

You look at his hand. The fingers are long. They are pale. They are the same hands that held yours in the dark. They are the same hands that steadied you when you fell. They are the same hands that you betrayed.

The forest is silent. The air is thick. You feel the weight of the sword on your hip. You feel the weight of the mud on your boots. You feel the weight of the lie in your chest. It is heavy. It is crushing you.

You step forward. You take his hand.

His grip is tight. His skin is cold. He pulls you toward him. He wraps his arms around you. He holds you. He holds you so tight it hurts. He presses his face into your hair. You smell him. He smells of sweat and iron. He smells of life.

"I forgive you," he says.

His voice is muffled. It vibrates in his chest.

"I cannot," you say.

"Yes, you can."

"You are a fool."

"Yes," he says. "I am a fool. I am a traitor. I am a murderer. I am everything they say I am. And I am still here. And I am still you."

You stand there. You hold him. The rain begins to fall again. It is soft. It is cold. It soaks your clothes. It soaks his clothes. The water runs down your neck. It runs down his back. You do not let go.

A sound. A twig snaps. Then another. Then many.

You hear them. The arrows. They are coming.

You look up. The tree line is moving. Shapes are shifting. Bows are drawing. The air hums with tension.

Elias pulls back. He looks at you. His eyes are clear. There is no fear. There is only peace.

"Go," he says.

"I will not leave you."

"You must."

"I will die with you."

"No."

He pushes you away. His hands are strong. He shoves you toward the tree line. You stumble. You fall. The mud catches you. You look up. He is standing in the clearing. He is alone. He is facing the forest. He is facing the arrows.

"Run," he shouts.

He raises his sword. He spins it. The steel catches the light. It flashes. It is bright. It is beautiful. It is the last beautiful thing you will ever see.

You run. You do not look back. You run into the dark. You run into the cold. You run into the fear. You run until your lungs burn. You run until your legs give out. You fall. You crawl. You hide in the underbrush. You cover your mouth. You hold your breath.

You hear the thud. You hear the scream. It is short. It is sharp. It cuts the air. Then it is gone.

You wait. The forest is silent. The rain has stopped. The sky is gray. It is the color of old wool.

You know he is dead. You know you killed him. Not with a sword. Not with an arrow. You killed him with your silence. You killed him with your lie. You killed him with your love.

You stand up. Your legs shake. Your hands shake. You look at the sky. It is empty. There are no stars. There are no lights. There is only the dark.

You turn. You walk back. You walk slowly. You walk through the mud. You walk through the rain. You walk to the clearing.

He is there. He is lying in the mud. His sword is in his hand. His face is still. His eyes are open. They look at the sky. They look at you.

You kneel. You touch his face. It is cold. It is wet. The rain has washed the blood from his skin.

"I am sorry," you say.

He does not answer. He will never answer again.

You take his sword. You hold it. It is heavy. It is warm. It is the only thing left. You stand up. You walk away. You walk out of the forest. You walk toward the village. You walk toward the fire. You walk toward the end.

You are alone. You are free. You are empty. The pain is gone. The love is gone. There is only the path. And you walk it. You walk it until the light fades. You walk it until the dark takes you. You do not look back. You do not look forward. You only walk.