Page 13 of At The End There Was You

“You have a point.”

He raised a single brow. “I do?”

“You seem surprised.”

“Where have your sympathies gone?”

“I can still sympathise, Azriel, even if you have a point. You can still say you miss rain even if you love sunshine. I feel for those that have lost their way, I feel for those who have been hurt because of those who have lost their way. One way or another, at some point, you will either condemn the villain, become one, follow one, or live long enough to see them corrupt everyone else. It’s the way of life. Unless you pick a weed out, whatever has sprouted around it will eventually die off.”

He curiously tilted his head to the side, regarding her as if she held all the answers he was meant to find in his books. “Who will pick the weed out?”

“Someone who can actually see that what stands between the meadow is indeed a weed. Weeds can look like flowers, you see. But the one who is able to recognise them, chose to pick the whole meadow even though he could see the weed, he’s lost faith that the weed hasn’t corrupted the roots of the other flowers.”

“He might not be wrong.”

“You don’t truly believe that, or you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“Perhaps I was forced, coerced.”

“You don’t seem like one to be coerced.”

“You’re assuming.”

“It isn’t hard.”

“How is that so, Winter?”

She pointed at him and then quickly lowered her hand at her side, clutching her robes.

He took off his glasses and lowered them on the table before leaning back in his seat and pouring every bit of his attention on her. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

Winter couldn’t think of anything but the childish answer she gave him, “You’re big and scary.”

“Big and scary?” He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “Thought you weren’t scared of me, only wary.”

“Others are.”

“They are smart. But that doesn’t answer why I can’t be coerced. Being something of fear makes people around you more courageous, fear is half as long lasting as spite and greed are. Humans want to prove themselves. How can they prove themselves with things they can conquer? Even Death can be coerced, even he can be forced with the right wrongful methods.”

“Were you?”

“I don’t like to think so, but I am not quite so sure anymore.”

She chewed and chewed on her lips and on the inner walls of her mouth until the taste of blood almost made her gag. How come she had just realised the true severity of the situation? A messed-up thread of panic began tugging and trying to unravel in her chest, but the strands were too knotted and had no idea where the start or the end was. “Could it be that you are looking at this wrong?” she asked him, pointing at the pile of books he’d gone through. War history, war inventions, war memorabilia. History of weapons. Divine weapons. Human weapons. War and weapons. Weapons and war. All of it was making Winter feel unsettled. “Instead of wanting to fight him, why are we not trying to understand why is it that he is angry with us? Are we really to the point of no return with him?”

Azriel cocked his head back and looked at her under his thick lashes. “That is presuming that he is truly angry.”

“He is.”

His mouth twitched, and Winter braced herself for a smile, but it did not come. “If you’re so certain, then I will task you to find it. From today till the seventh, that is your only duty.”

She gaped, and then something she’d not felt in a while seeped through her veins, spreading despair all over her being. Like a flower under shade, she almost withered under his attention, and he noticed. The muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticked when her eyes jumped all over the place, avoiding his, even though she often found comfort in their drowning abyss. “So, you were not certain in your guesses.”

“It is not that.” She pulled onto her robes, hugging herself and sinking into them as if they were her armour. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that they were her armour. The only thing between desolation and purpose was the stiff white cotton covering her skin. And the walls. And the certainty her position offered to never disappoint or do wrong. There was not much wrong to do in what she did, and there was no one to disappoint either. What Azriel was asking of her would strip her of that comfort, and she was not ready to disappoint or do wrong again. “What if I can’t, if I fail?”

“What is the worst that can happen?” he asked, raising a brow, and flashing her the most unusual smile. “Die?”

Stunned, Winter could only stare. And stare. And stare some more. When confusion wrapped around Azriel and his smile was about to die off, she jumped to her feet. “Fine.” Winter remembered that no single word was a sentence, and added, “I mean, alright, I will take that task.”