Page 169 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

Four bodies in front of me.

Eight in total. The equivalent of what could’ve been two families. What about their families? I see their parents crying over a letter, insincerely written by the headmistress, letting them know that their child is dead. Is that what happened to Breck’s parents? His siblings and friends?

Who am I? I told myself I would never do what I did in my dreams, but every day I come closer to her. I surpass her in barbarity.

Is this what it means to hold my survival above theirs?

Is this what it means to be human?

And yet, with all this guilt, I’m also wondering if this could look like a corenth attack because I worry about cleaning these bodies and getting back to Leiholan.

This could’ve been Leiholan yesterday. How would I feel if I cared about these people? Because there are people who care about them, and I’m responsible for their pain. If I could, would I bear it for them?

I don’t think I would. The pain I have is too much, but here I am delivering it to others a thousand times over.

One by one, I pull each body out into the mastick, save the burnt, disheveled one for last. I give each of their faces one last good look, committing them to memory, promising to carry them. Because that’s the price I pay for every death, isn’t it? Killing is a promise that I will hold them, for the rest of my life, because what else could it be?

Luckily, I’m not far from the training room, so I go grab Leiholan three more bottles, using one to douse the dead. I strike one of the headmistresses’ matches and throw it atop the pile of bodies I’ve gathered.

I sit a foot from them, forcing myself to smell the putrid smoke that comes from their burning flesh. It’s what I have to do—it’s what killing entails.

Punishment.

Chapter 35

The Only Thing I Know Is That I Know Nothing

LUCIAN

Eunoia can feel the deaths of their loved ones. There’s no telling how they will react. As a rule of thumb, stay away.

– A GUIDE TO SURVIVING IN VIRIDIS

One word echoes through the hall. “No.”

“No, no, no.”

Wendy sits next to me. She touches his snakes like they’re alive, his face like he’s breathing, his mouth like it’s smiling.

But he’s not. He never will again.

“How long?” she whispers.

“It’s too late.” If the stinger deposited the venom—which it surely has—there’s no way it hasn’t spread.

I hold Azaire’s dead body and soul in my lap.

He’s gone.

“I won’t accept that.” Wendy picks up half his body. I do the same.

I killed him.

We walk to the mastick in silence. The putrid scent of burning flesh has me thinking this could be but a dream. I’d like it to be. It doesn’t feel real. Each step I take feels as dead as Azaire.

Weighted with guilt.

We lay Azaire’s body on a bed of grass and mushrooms. I look at him, yet past him, into nothing.

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