Horizon: Echoes

by Wandergirl108

Months after the battle for the Spire, Aloy is still struggling with her identity. Desperate to find herself, and maybe her mother, she leaves for a new quest, unaware of the new threats she'll find…and, begrudgingly, she lets herself be accompanied by the only person she knows who understands what it is to not belong. Canon now, will be AU when HFW happens. M-rated as of Ch.20.

30. Consequences

With nothing for it, Aloy stepped forward to meet the approaching Corsair. "Howdy!" she called in response, hoping to avoid a fight.

"Don't 'howdy' us, little girl!" snapped the scarred man in the blue cloak as they approached; under his curls of dark hair, Aloy thought she saw a glimmer of metal in front of his right ear, but didn't think to take note of it just then.

"Is this them?" the man in the purple coat asked of the third Corsair. His voice was deep but held no anger, his expression calm behind his knotted gray beard.

"Aye, this is them," confirmed the man who lacked any decoration.

"Sheriff Orns, I presume?" Aloy asked the man in the purple coat.

"Aye," nodded the massive man. "And you two are explorers from the safe lands?"

"We are," Aloy confirmed. "And before you start asking, yes, we did fight a group of your people on Bloody Beach about a month ago…well, Nil did, and I stopped the fight at the last minute. This one was the only Corsair left." She gestured to the man whose very presence had made it clear what this was about.

"So it's all true, then?" hissed the scarred man. "The nerve…"

"Calm yourself, Shands," Orns said, and Aloy felt a chill - this scarred man, with icy blue eyes that glimmered with rage, was Deputy Shands?

"Like the sea I will!" Shands snarled, and he stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Aloy. "Listen here, girl: that crew you offended was my responsibility, their captain answers to me! Anyone outside their crew messes with 'em, it becomes my business!"

"Enough," Orns stated, placing a massive hand on his first mate's shoulder. The Sheriff was as big as Helis, but his eyes held none of the cold deadness of the Terror of the Sun, and when Shands did indeed back down to return to his place at Orns's side, Aloy let herself hope that this matter could be resolved peacefully, even with Shands involved. Orns met Aloy's gaze, his dark eyes deep but passive, calm and understanding - in a way, they almost reminded her of Rost, and though she didn't relax, she didn't tense, either. "I've heard the story from this little scallywag, Jed," stated the Sheriff, gesturing to the Corsair whose blade Aloy had blocked on Bloody Beach. "Now I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me exactly what happened, and speak truly."

Nodding, Aloy drew a deep breath and started describing all the events that had transpired between her and her partner and the Corsair band on the shore that day, going into as much detail as she could remember, more than she'd even given Kryse, again keeping her emotions out of the story. Sometimes, she turned to Nil to let him fill in gaps, and occasionally he spoke up without prompting, but most of the time, she spoke alone. Both she and Nil knew she was essentially standing trial for what the Corsair considered a crime, but she didn't embellish the events in her favor.

While she spoke, Shands's scowl grew deeper and deeper, while the Corsair man named Jed constantly bobbed his head in agreement that she was telling the truth. Orns stood and listened passively, his face not betraying any emotion even when she got to the part where she stepped in and blocked Jed's blade. She made it very clear that Nil was not okay with her interference, that the supposed crime was hers alone, and concluded with them parting ways with Jed and his dead crew members.

"I see," Orns said when she was done, his tone entirely neutral. "Your story lines up with Jed's report. So I must ask: why did you interfere in business that was not your own?"

"Because everyone who died there didn't have to," Aloy replied. "The fight was meaningless and pointless. This world we live in is dangerous - every single person, in every tribe, struggles to survive every day, especially with the Derangement only getting worse with each passing month; there's enough death in this world as it is. With all the dangers we face, there's no sense in fighting each other. Those ten men died for nothing, when there are so many other things that could have killed them, and just standing back and letting them fall was almost unbearable."

"You have no remorse for your actions," Orns said.

It didn't quite sound like a question, but Aloy nodded anyway. "That's right," she stated. "My only regret is that I couldn't stop the fight sooner, prevent more senseless death than I did."

"I see," the Sheriff repeated, stroking his knotted beard.

"Aloy's the heroic kind," Nil spoke up, stepping forward for the first time; when she glanced over at him, his silver eyes were hard as steel as the attention turned to him. "She sees no glory in battles, and would rather save lives than end them. She's not subject to your laws or mine, only hers, and as such, even I can't begrudge her for interfering. I wish she hadn't, but she did what she thought was right, and you can't punish her for it."

He didn't sound like he was begging, or even asking; if anything, he sounded like he was giving an order. Aloy swallowed, unsure whether to thank him for defending her or chastise him for standing up against the chief of the tribe whose hospitality they were currently living on.

No one responded, not even Shands, for a long minute. Finally, Aloy stepped forward.

"I'm sorry I didn't save more of your men," she told Sheriff Orns. "That's my only regret. Maybe I jumped in to protect Nil because he's my partner, but the fact is that I should have tried to save every life that was lost that day, whether they were men I knew personally or not."

"You're an odd one," Orns remarked, bafflingly. "Still, a spirited one, I see. You truly believe in your decision…Tell me, what would your tribe think of what happened, if they knew?"

"I don't really have a tribe," Aloy admitted. "I was raised on Nora land, but…Never mind," she shook her head, realizing it would take too long to explain the whole situation. "If the Nora knew about this, they wouldn't care; they don't care about anything that happens outside their territory. But there are no peaceful fights among the Nora; we fight to survive, if we must, or not at all. If two outlanders proposed a fair fight to a group of their braves only to slaughter them, the Nora would hold a grudge against the outlanders forever, but be grateful for any of their number who were allowed to return alive."

"Hmm." Orns met her eyes for a long, heavy minute…then nodded. "Very well," he said. "As Sheriff, I clear you of any wrongdoing, outlander girl of the Nora tribe."

"What?!" Shands and Jed both exclaimed furiously.

"Her rules are not ours," Orns stated; "the only rules she lives by are what drove her to her action. While I do not condone what she did, I cannot condemn her either, under the circumstances." His dark eyes met hers again. "Outlander of the Nora, on behalf of my tribe, you are forgiven; henceforth, you have nothing to fear from us, I swear it…so long as you don't commit another such offense, of course."

Aloy let out a breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding. "Thank you," she told Orns. "I appreciate that. And my name is Aloy."

"Aloy," Orns acceded. "You are welcome to take part in our festival."

"Thank you," she repeated, overwhelmed with relief.

"There's still one thing," Shands growled, stepping in front of his Sheriff, but his icy blue eyes were trained on Nil. "You. Do you concede that Jed would've killed you had your woman not interfered?"

"No," Nil stated before Aloy could do much more than open her mouth, meeting the scarred deputy's gaze steadily. "I knew he was coming, and I would have killed him if Aloy hadn't stepped between us."

"He's lying!" shouted Jed. "He was just sitting there watching Lyndos die, I was gonna shove my sword through his neck!"

"Unless you did something unexpected, which you just admitted you weren't about to," Nil said dangerously, turning his steely gaze to the lowly Corsair, "I would have moved at the last second and let you stab me in the shoulder before I turned around and buried my knife in your gut."

"You say that now!" Jed sneered, "but you can't prove it, can you?"

"I have nothing to prove," Nil stated.

"Sea squalls you don't!" Shands snapped, moving to get in Nil's face. "You can't claim a victory you didn't earn!"

"I would have earned it if not for Aloy," Nil said, "and I truly wish she hadn't taken that victory from me."

"This is a problem," Orns said. "If neither of you men will concede defeat, the fight can't be concluded."

"I'm not conceding!" Jed snarled. "I might not be able to fight him one-on-one, but I had him that day, I did!"

"No," Nil said calmly, "you didn't. I had you exactly where I wanted you, and if there's some way I can prove it, I would gladly accept it."

"You sure about that, outlander?" Shands growled. "Because I can think of a way we can put your words to the test. This little scallywag might be weak, but I'm stronger than ten of our best, and Jed's captain answers to me, his whole crew is my responsibility."

"Are you challenging me?" Nil asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he flashed his teeth.

"Aye," Shands smirked. "How lucky we managed to find y'all before high noon."

"That it is," Nil agreed, matching the Corsair deputy's grin.

"Hold on!" Aloy exclaimed, trying to get between the two men; failing that, she put one hand on each of their arms, trying to get their attention. "Calm down, both of you." When they continued to ignore her, she turned to Sheriff Orns with something like desperation. "Stop this, won't you?" she pleaded. "Kryse said this festival is supposed to be a peaceful event, and a fight wouldn't serve any purpose here."

"That's where you're wrong, miss," the Sheriff stated; "a fight between these two would serve quite a purpose indeed. If Shands wins, then the outlander would have died that day, and your misdeed will be remedied; if the outlander wins, then he'll prove he has the capabilities he claims, and Davin's crew will be down eleven men, as they should be. Either way, the fight that was started on Bloody Beach will be resolved."

"But…!" Aloy shook her head, turning back to Nil and tugging his arm. "Nil, please don't do this," she begged. "There's no point."

"It's already done, Aloy," Nil stated, not even glancing at her.

"You sure?" Shands snickered. "You can still back out, you know. All you have to do is admit that Jed would've had you, and we can put this all behind us. We'll even let you go with your life, since you aren't Corsair."

"Nil, please!" Aloy cried. "Your pride isn't worth anyone dying over!"

"Maybe not my pride," Nil said, his silver eyes gleaming as they stayed focused on meeting Shands's gaze. "But my honor? Absolutely. I would have killed your tribesman if Aloy hadn't interfered, deputy, and I will never say otherwise."

"Then let's see you prove your worth," Shands said dangerously. "One on one, blade to blade, at high noon. What say you, outlander?"

"To the death?" Nil asked.

"Aye," Shands grinned. "To the death."

"I gladly accept," Nil told Shands, his teeth gleaming in the late-morning sun.

"Hah!" Shands sneered. "You'll regret that! We're going somewhere your woman can't interfere!"

"I'm glad to hear that," Nil responded. "And somehow, I don't think I will regret it…one way or another." Nausea roiled in Aloy's gut as she recognized the sparkle in those silver irises.

"Sheriff!" Shands said, turning to his master.

To Aloy's horror, Orns nodded. Then, the massive Corsair lifted a hand and brushed gray ropes of hair away from the side of his face to reveal a gleaming metal triangle, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight. They really use Focuses, she thought, staring, as he tapped the jewel at his temple and began moving his hands in thin air. Even having known it ahead of time, to actually see it, see someone using a device other than her own just as she did…

"Attention, Corsair tribe!"

Orns didn't exactly raise his voice, but it seemed to ring out across the entire festival like a thunderclap, and everyone Aloy could see immediately stopped where they were and raised their heads.

"Deputy Shands has challenged a man to a duel to the death," Orns stated. "Those of you who wish to watch the fight, please make your way to the arena now and claim your seats. Remember to leave spots for the captains and deputies…" He glanced at Aloy. "…and one guest. Captains Davin, Grode, and Manal, and Deputies Okker and Lanida, to me, please. Thank you."

"Arena?" Aloy breathed as the whole crowd shifted, headed south and away from the ocean.

"Arena?" Nil echoed, and she turned to him to see him flash his teeth. "That's exciting."

Shaking her head, Aloy turned back to Orns. "How did you do that?" she asked. "Make everyone hear you?"

"I think you know the answer, little miss," Orns remarked, raising his eyebrows at her. "I see you wear one of your own." And for the first time, he smiled. "Incredible little devices the Old Ones made, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but…I've never been able to make myself heard like that," Aloy said.

"Well, it's not just the Focus, o' course," Orns chuckled. "It's all the other devices hooked up to it, spread 'round the settlement. My tribe have worked for many generations to piece together some of the Old Ones' greatest inventions, missy. Being able to speak to my whole tribe is just one of many benefits we've reaped from the work."

Aloy wanted to ask more, but three men in red coats and a man and a woman in blue coats - all of them, Aloy was now on alert to notice, wearing Focuses of their own, as Shands did - approached in a group. "Sir!" the man in blue called.

The Sheriff nodded a greeting to them. "Good you came," he said, and he gestured to Nil. "This outlander is Shands's opponent, so he needs someone to show him what's what. I trust you five to make sure everything's fair."

"Aye-aye," the five people Aloy had to assume were captains and deputies said in unison, and the man in blue and two of the men in red approached Nil, while the other two walked over to join Deputy Shands.

"Follow us, outlander," the man in blue told Nil, and Nil nodded and followed as they walked away, Shands's group just ahead of them.

"Nil," Aloy started to protest, but he didn't even glance at her. Anger burned in her chest, and she turned back to Orns. "Why aren't you stopping this?" she demanded. "This is your tribe, Kryse said your word is law. As leader of your people, it's your job to prevent pointless bloodshed."

"It's not pointless," Orns stated. "Both men have willingly agreed that one of them will die by the other's hand in an hour or so, and I respect that."

Desperately struggling to keep her feelings in check, Aloy resisted the urge to call the Sheriff a coward. "I've already told you why this is wrong," she said instead; "just surviving in this world is difficult enough for everyone as it is. And I think you know that."

"Your logic is sound, make no mistake," Orns conceded. "But see, it don't much matter what I think or believe. They came to this agreement mutually and of their own volition, as is their right. Who am I to tell them how to live their lives, when neither one is being forced into anything against their will? And more to the point, who are you to tell them that?"

"Honestly? I feel like I'm the only one here with any sense," Aloy replied.

"One man's sense is another man's crazy," Orns remarked with a chuckle. "Let 'em be, little lady; it's their business, not yours or mine."

"It's your tribe!" Aloy snapped. "Shands is your successor! It is your business!"

"Miss, my duty is to ensure that all conflict my tribe experiences is resolved effectively," Orns told her. "Effectively, not necessarily peacefully. Both Shands and your partner have decided that this is the most effective way to resolve this dispute, and I can't disagree. If I force beliefs and ways of life on them that aren't their own, I'd be abusing my power, and no good ever comes of that." He glanced in the direction Nil had been led away, then lowered his voice and added, "I would like to talk to you, another time. But right now, I suggest you go after your partner and say whatever last words you feel need to be said. Before long, you won't have another chance."

"You think Nil's going to lose," Aloy breathed, and it wasn't quite a question.

Though his face was grim, Orns nodded. "Deputy Shands has fought duels against more than a dozen of our best men, and as you can see, he's won them all," he stated. "It's not for nothing that he's my first mate. Not to discredit the strength of your partner, but…well, I'd just advise you go say your goodbyes. Even if I'm wrong, better safe than sorry, as the Old Ones used to say. Oh, and if anyone gets in your way, tell them you have the Sheriff's permission to join him in the fitting room."

From the look in his dark eyes, it was clear that he seemed to think he was giving Aloy some sort of gift, but she couldn't bring herself to thank him. Instead, she turned back the way Nil had gone, and realized she couldn't even see a trace of blue or red cloaks through the crowd, nothing but what she could only hope was a few red feathers poking out over the swarm of heads.

"Go on," Orns murmured to her.

"Nil!" Suddenly, Aloy's body snapped into motion, and she started shoving her way between the throngs of bodies, chasing what she hoped was a glimpse of her partner. "Nil!"

The chase brought her south, towards the wall of metal she'd seen on her Focus earlier, which she knew formed a ring; it flashed through her mind that she was probably going to end up out of range of her Striders, but that seemed like a trivial concern compared to what was about to happen. It became more and more difficult to proceed as the crowd thickened, but the less space there was, the more frantic she became, shoving and squirming her way through, desperately trying to keep that hint of crimson plumage within her vision. A wide tunnel was set into the wall, and a little ways within it, she saw the spot of color she was chasing veer to the left; following suit, she managed to reach a side passage that the crowd was avoiding, and she dove into the open space and began sprinting, following the path until she came upon a door with two Corsair in black coats standing as guards.

Hoping that Nil was on the other side, she made for the door, only for the guards to immediately draw their swords and cross them in front of the entrance, blocking her. It was like the day she'd tried to enter Mother's Heart…but that day, the only reason she'd felt inclined to obey the command was because she hadn't wanted to give the Nora another reason to hate her by picking a fight, and had hoped to still join the Proving by waiting outside for the braves the following day; here and now, she had no such qualms.

"Get out of my way," she snapped at them. "Sheriff Orns said I could join Nil in the fitting room, because he's my partner." When the two men only exchanged amused glances, she drew her spear. "Move," she hissed, "or bleed. Your choice." She wasn't angry enough to kill, but to fight? Absolutely.

"You threatening us, little lady?" laughed one of the Corsair.

"Ah, let her through," snickered the other. "If she's really that determined, she might as well say her goodbyes to the outlander." He sheathed his sword and stepped aside, and after a moment's hesitation, the other followed suit. "Go on ahead," he smirked.

Putting away her spear, Aloy only gave the men a scowl of contempt before shoving the heavy door open.

On the other side, she found a small, well-lit room, with a table and a couple of chairs, and the two captains and one deputy who had led Nil away, along with the former Carja himself.

"And no medicine, either," the deputy was telling Nil, who was currently unstrapping his quivers and packs and setting them down on the table.

"Understood," Nil nodded, untying more holsters, including one Aloy knew held all his extracts.

"Nil," she said, moving over to him.

The tribeless hunter turned to her, his silver eyes sparkling. "Aloy," he greeted warmly.

"Who let you in here?" demanded one of the captains in the background.

"Sheriff Orns," Aloy replied, barely glancing at the man. "He said I could be here because Nil's my partner, you can take it up with him. Nil," she repeated, stepping closer, "please, you have to let this go. Call off the fight."

"The fight's happening, Aloy," he sighed, turning back to the supplies he was leaving behind, still unloading his burdens. "You need to stay out of it, and for real this time."

"I won't let you do this," she insisted.

"I'm not giving you a choice," he stated. Before she could respond, he turned to the blue-cloaked deputy and asked, "Say, do these count as ranged weapons?" He held out a small cloth bag.

"Whatcha got there?" inquired the deputy, stepping closer.

Nil pulled out a small black shape and held it out. "Flashbangs," he answered with a smile. "Not sure if they qualify as weapons, since they don't hurt, they just incapacitate for a moment. Have you ever been blinded by a Watcher? These do the same thing."

"How long have you had those?!" Aloy exclaimed.

He flashed his teeth at her. "I took them off one of the Oseram I killed during the rebellion," he answered smugly.

"You mean you've had them this whole time and never used them?!" Aloy demanded.

"I was saving them for a good fight," he shrugged. "They're not easy to come by." Flashing his teeth, he added, "Truth be told, I'd hoped to use them against you someday. But I think this duel is a good enough situation for them."

Aloy shook her head.

"Even if they don't do damage, they're still ranged weapons," the deputy told Nil. "I'm pretty sure they're off-limits."

"Fair enough," Nil shrugged, tossing them down with his other supplies. "Is that all?"

"Your bow, too," the deputy stated.

"I've already laid down my arrows," Nil pointed out, "and anything I could use to make more. I won't draw my bow, or use it in any way, but if I'm to die here, I at least want to have it with me, if only for sentimental reasons. I'd hate to fall without it."

"Hmm…" Frowning, the deputy turned to one of the men in red. "Grode, go ask Shands about this," he ordered. "Might as well ask about the flashbangs too, while you're at it."

"Sir," the captain nodded, and he left.

"Do you think you're going to lose?" Aloy asked Nil softly.

He bared his teeth wickedly. "I'm not sure," he replied. "Deputy Shands reminds me of Helis in a way - a bit more life to his eyes, but I get a similar sense of strength from him…of brutality. And to be honest, I always wanted to know how I would measure up if I crossed blades with Helis, see if I was really worthy of being called the New Terror of the Sun - though of course, that was never meant to be." His grin stretched even wider. "This may be the closest I'll ever come."

Feeling sick, Aloy swallowed hard, then stepped over to him again. "It's not worth it," she told him. "Please, just tell them Jed would have killed you, even if it's a lie-"

"I don't like lies at the best of times," Nil growled, his smirk vanishing. "When it would mean sacrificing my honor as well, there is no way I could ever bring myself to say such a thing. I don't play games, Aloy."

The door opened, and the captain came back in. "Shands says the bow has to stay," he declared. "The flashbangs too. No outlander tricks, he said."

"Sorry, mate," the deputy shrugged to Nil. "Put your bow down."

Nil sighed so hard it was almost a growl of frustration, and for a split second, Aloy dared to hope that this might be a deal-breaker, but Nil was already taking his weapon off his back. "Fine," he grumbled, and then, to make things worse, he held it out to Aloy. "Will you carry it for me?" he asked her. "If I can't hold it, I'd like it to be with you."

"No!" Aloy exclaimed, taking several steps back. "I'm not going to enable any of this!"

Another sigh, even angrier than the last, but Nil still placed the Voice of Our Teeth on the table with his other belongings. "At least promise me you'll bury it with me if I die here, won't you?" he pressed.

"I'm not promising you anything!" Aloy shouted. "I won't condone this nonsense, Nil!"

"Captains, let's let them have a few minutes," the deputy chuckled, walking for the door. Glancing at Nil, the man added, "You don't have much time. Make the most of it while you can."

The bloodthirsty hunter gave a single nod, and then the three Corsair men left the room, leaving Aloy alone with her partner.

"Nil, please," she begged, "please don't go through with this. What will HADES do if he loses his mentor?"

"He'll be fine," Nil stated. "He knows how much I value a good fight and a good death."

"And what will I tell him?" Aloy demanded.

"The truth," Nil answered. "He'll be upset, but he's found enough of himself that I'm sure you can finish the job eventually."

"Nil, this is stupid!" Aloy cried, hating that her voice cracked. "You said you'd try to find a death that means something!"

"This does mean something," Nil insisted. "It's for my honor, and his - and more than that, the honor of his entire tribe. That's not nothing."

"It's not enough!" she argued.

"It's more than what was at stake on Bloody Beach," Nil stated, "and that's more than I could have hoped for; it's more than enough for me, Aloy."

Exhaling heavily, Aloy paced back and forth a few steps. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered. Then she stepped closer to him and put a hand on his arm. "Nil, look at me."

He met her eyes steadily.

She took a deep breath. Struggling to keep her voice even, she told him, "If you love me, call off the fight."

Surprise flashed across his face, and he blinked a few times in quick succession. For a long minute, he stared at her, his mouth open slightly. Then he closed it, letting out a breath through his nose.

"Oh, Aloy," he sighed, his tone almost wistful. "There is so much I would give up for you, you know that? For you, I would give up my bow and my blade, my time and my pride, my life and my death. Under the right circumstances, for a moment, you might even be able to convince me to give up my honor." Then his lips curled into a smile, and to her surprise, he let out a chuckle. "But my purpose? The very core of who I am, why I live and breathe? No," he shook his head, "I could never give that up for anything…" He reached out to cup her cheek in his palm. "…not even you, my love."

The words caught in Aloy's chest like a blade, and her eyes began to burn; there was nothing left she could say to try to prevent this, and she knew it.

Infuriatingly, Nil flashed his teeth at her, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. "One last kiss for luck?" he asked, already moving closer to her.

It took a moment for her to work through the shock, her body stiff as wood as she jerked to place her palms on his chest and shove him with all her strength. "No!" she shrieked at him. "I don't wish you any luck with any of this!"

He stumbled back, his grin faltering only slightly, and Aloy let herself get lost in a rush of anger, her fingers curling into fists.

"You know what?" she snarled. "If you die here, I will bury you with your bow! I'll bury both you and it deep underground and walk away and be so much better off for it!"

"Good," he told her calmly, and he might as well have kicked her in the stomach. "That's the best I could hope for for you."

"You sick-!"

"Alright, lovebirds," announced the deputy as he shoved the door open and came back into the room, followed by the two captains and the other two Corsair men who'd been standing guard, "time's up. If you'll follow me, outlander," he said to Nil, already walking for another, wider door in the side of the room that Aloy had barely registered.

"Gladly," Nil told the deputy, his teeth flashing.

The deputy opened the barrier, this one metal, and Nil followed him down a dark gray tunnel, at the end of which Aloy could barely make out sunlight. She moved to follow him without thinking, but the captains immediately blocked her, the other two Corsair grabbing her arms.

"Let go of me!" she shouted at them.

"Sorry miss," grunted one of her captors, "but we really must insist. Contenders only."

"Nil!" she called to her partner's retreating back.

To her surprise, the former Carja actually stopped, then turned back halfway to look at her.

"Aloy," he said, "we had a deal: If you gave me a good death, I would spend my last breaths telling you who you are. There's a chance you may never be able to hold up your end of the bargain, so I'm under no obligation to hold up mine…but I will tell you one thing about yourself." His teeth gleamed at her. "I will tell you something you're not: a coward. You don't run away from anything, there is nothing in this world you won't face head-on. It's one of the most key factors that differentiates you from your mother…and that's how I know you're going to watch. If I die here, you'll be there to see it, and I take pleasure in knowing that even if I can't die by your side, I can at least die in your presence."

"YOU BASTARD!" she shrieked at him, throwing herself forward with all her strength against the grip of the men holding her back from reaching her mate - to pound her fists into his face, to seize him and kiss him passionately, or to draw her spear and run it through his heart before Shands got the chance, she didn't know - but Nil had already turned back around and resumed walking away, and moments later, the heavy door closed behind him.

Suddenly free of her restraints, Aloy lunged forward and slammed against the metal barrier, but it didn't budge. Gritting her teeth, she struggled to take back control, refusing to cry or beg or break down in any way. Drawing as much air into her lungs as she could manage, she turned away from the door to face the Corsair in the room with her.

"You had your chance, miss," said one of the captains. "You can't take back your last words to him now. I suggest you run along, head back to your safe lands so you don't have to be here when-"

"I'm not going anywhere," Aloy stated coldly, lifting her chin and meeting the man's eyes.

"You'd best reconsider," the captain told her. "A pretty little thing like you shouldn't have to watch-"

"I said," Aloy growled, raising her voice, "I'm not going anywhere. And you can't make me." She stepped forward. "Take me to the stands," she commanded. "I'm not leaving."

"Fine, your call," the captain scoffed, throwing up his hands. "Right this way."

He left, as did the other Corsair, and Aloy followed.

The men navigated the tunnels in the metal barrier that outlined what Aloy could only assume was the arena, around some turns and up some stairs, and she kept pace with them, keeping her face passive, trying to smother the emotions roiling in her chest.

"Ye're awfully calm," one of the black-cloaked men finally remarked to her.

She glance at him, saying nothing.

He smirked. "Anyone would believe you weren't about to watch yer lover get slaughtered."

"I don't know that I am," Aloy stated, proud of how little emotion she heard in her voice. "For all I know, I'm about to watch him kill your best fighter. And to be honest, I don't know which outcome would be worse."

"Hah!" laughed one of the captains, who glanced back her with a grin. "Let me assure you, little lady, your man won't last long. Shands is a madman on the battlefield, more vicious than a wild animal."

"So's Nil," Aloy responded coolly. "He's a bloodthirsty lunatic who lives to kill people; his own family cast him out for it, stripped him of his birthright, and his name still strikes fear into the hearts of his former tribesmen. I may not know Shands, but you don't know Nil, so neither of us has any right to say what's about to happen."

"No offense, girl," spoke up the other black-coated Corsair, "but no matter how fearsome yer boy may be to the easterners, he grew up in the safe lands. He hasn't had to contend with the wrath of Mother Ocean, or survive in a land prowled by the Deima. Trust me, there's no replacing the strength that comes of that."

"That might be true," Aloy conceded, "but he was a soldier during the war a few years back, and he was one of the most decorated, favored by his king; he faced entire armies alone and won. He killed ten of your men by himself, and the whole point of this fight is to prove that it would have been eleven if I hadn't interfered. Isn't that worth something?"

"So the rumors are true, then?" growled the first of the black-cloaked Corsair.

"If that's what the rumors say, then yes," Aloy nodded. "Your Sheriff already cleared me of all charges, but Nil wants the fight I stopped to have a conclusion, which is why we're here."

"Hmm…" They rounded another corner, and Aloy was starting to hear a low roar up ahead, the sound of countless voices all drowning each other out. "Alright, I'm convinced," the Corsair suddenly spoke up. "My money's going on the outlander."

"Ye're outta yer mind!" laughed his fellow undecorated tribesman. "The smart money's on Shands, always has been, haven't you learned that by now?!"

"Shands may be the toughest in the known lands," conceded the other, "but maybe we shouldn't assume things about what's beyond that. Who knows? If this outlander faced a band of our mates alone and killed most of 'em by himself, he might just be capable of surprising us."

"You're gonna go broke, betting on a sure loss," chuckled his friend.

"Or I'll make bank and spend the rest of the festival in luxury," the Corsair retorted as they emerged from the tunnel into the late morning light.

Immediately, Aloy was reminded of the Sun-Ring, or Holovid Studios at a stretch - people filled tiered rings of seats, talking, cheering, all facing a central space. Looking beyond the stands, Aloy immediately saw why no one had bothered trying to take her weapons from her: a wall of light, like what she'd seen in Cauldrons or the science-based ruins she'd explored back east, domed over the soon-to-be battlefield, leaving no chance for any of the onlookers to participate in any way. Trying to tell herself that she was glad she wouldn't be able to interfere even if instinct seized her, she left the Corsair men who were still talking and joking amongst themselves and began walking along the paths between the many cloth-and-metal seats, trying to find a place to sit.

"Aloy!"

Jumping at the sound of her name, Aloy turned to see a man standing and waving his whole arm in her direction, trying to get her attention; it took her a moment to recognize Kryse without his parrot, especially among his similarly-dressed tribesmen.

"Over here!" her friend called, and she made her way down some stairs and past several seated Corsair, struggling to reach where the merchant was beckoning to her in the middle of a set of chairs. "I saved you a seat," he told her as she reached him, gesturing to an empty spot to his left.

"Thanks," Aloy grunted, taking her place on the cloth-covered metal.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" shouted a voice far too loud for a human, booming over the noise of the crowd.

Aloy looked up and saw the image of a man woven from light projected at the top of the see-through dome; peering closer, she realized that the projection was of a man who was actually standing on the ground in the open space, wearing a blue coat and a three-cornered hat.

"Welcome to this impromptu match, at the behest of one of our best fighters!" the man declared.

"How is he doing that?" she asked Kryse as the lone deputy kept talking.

"It's just a trick, missy," Kryse responded. "The Old Ones used this arena for all their contests, and had all sorts of devices that would allow anyone in the stands to see and hear whatever happened down below. We got it all in working order long before I was born, for that same purpose, and that's how we use it. Your man and Shands are gonna be outfitted with something to hook them up to the system so we can see everything they do and hear every word they say, too."

"Can you see the projection without a Focus?" Aloy inquired as the deputy described the events that had led to the fight that was about to take place.

"Aye," Kryse nodded; "that's the point of the projection, after all."

Turning back and looking up, Aloy noticed a set of numbers that seemed to be steadily rising. "What's that?" she asked Kryse, pointing. "Is it-?"

"A clock," Kryse told her, "an old-world method of keeping track of time." He lifted his own hand and pointed to the pairs of numbers separated by dots, left to right. "Hours, minutes, seconds. Sixty seconds to a minute, sixty minutes to an hour; when the hour mark hits twelve, that's high noon on the dot."

"Huh," Aloy breathed; the 'clock' read "11:50:39", and counting. The Old Ones' structures around time were generally known to the tribes, even the Nora - presumably, that had been part of the basic education the first humans had been given in the Cradles, along with spoken language - and Aloy had seen similar sets of numbers on the data points she'd gathered, enough to understand exactly how they worked; but to actually see the current time, parceled out and trickling away as though life itself was just another data point, was mildly unsettling.

"Listen," Kryse murmured to her after a few moments, "I'm mighty sorry about all this. Had I known Davin was the captain of the crew those brawlers came from - that Shands would get involved on that one scallywag's behalf - I never woulda let y'all come here."

"It's not your fault, Kryse," Aloy assured him, turning to meet his dark eyes. "There are…a number of people to blame for what's about to happen, but you're not one of them."

"That's mighty kind of ye," he mumbled, though he seemed wholly unconvinced.

"Place your bets, miss?" said a voice from Aloy's other side, and she turned to see a coatless Corsair standing in front of her, between her seat and that of the spectator next to her.

"What?" she asked.

"Looks like you've got coin," the man remarked, gesturing to the bags of 'money' she still carried from the trading post. "Care to put some of it on a winner?"

"What's he talking about?" she asked Kryse.

Kryse sighed. "He's asking you to bet on one of the contenders to win the fight," he told her. "If you choose correctly, you'll make money off it. You can put in as much as you like, and all the bets get pooled together; the winners divide the total among themselves. Of course, if you choose right but the division would leave you with less coin than you bargained, the Sheriff'll pay the difference, make sure you get back all the money you put up plus five coins."

"You're the outlander girl, aye?" said the man who'd approached, and when she looked at him, he smirked. "I suggest you put some money on Deputy Shands."

"You expect me to try to profit off a pointless death?!" Aloy exclaimed.

"If you're gonna lose your lover, you might as well get something out of it," shrugged the Corsair.

"That's disgusting!" Aloy spat. "No, I'm not going to bet anything!"

"Suit yourself," the man dismissed, and he turned and squeezed his way back to one of the paths between sets of seats.

"Is everyone here hoping to gain something from the death of someone they've never met?" Aloy hissed at Kryse as the deputy down below wrapped up the story, including the fact that the Sheriff himself had cleared her of any wrongdoing.

"Not everyone," Kryse shrugged, "but most are. For plenty of Corsair, a contest is more fun when they have personal stakes in it."

"And no one understands how wrong that is?!" Aloy demanded.

Another sigh met her question. "I understand how you feel," Kryse told her. "For what it's worth, I'm not a betting man either. But…it's just how things are. It's a rare Corsair who'd see things your way."

Shaking her head, Aloy turned her attention back to the deputy.

"But the fight was never resolved," the man was saying, "and there's only one way to settle it!"

A cheer rose up around her, and Aloy swallowed around the lump in her throat as she glanced at the 'clock' that marked time marching ever onward.

"Fighting on behalf of Davin's crew," the deputy said in a grandiose voice, "is a man who needs no introduction. You know him, you fear him! It's Deputy Shands!"

The cheer redoubled as another man in a blue cloak entered the arena across from where Aloy had come in; in the projection overhead, it was clearer to see his scarred face, his wicked grin, the way he raised his hands in greeting to the crowd. Interestingly, he didn't seem to be wearing his Focus anymore.

"And his opponent," the announcer went on, "an outlander from east of the Oasis, a man who spent his whole life in the safe lands yet somehow managed to fell several of our own…" The deputy trailed off, then laughed. "Well, I guess I don't know his name! Let's bring him out here and ask him!"

On cue, Nil emerged from beneath the passage that Aloy had taken into the stands, the crimson feathers of his headdress and the orange flash of his scarf recognizable even at a distance. His projection up above appeared entirely passive, he didn't seem to acknowledge the crowd at all as a cacophony of low-pitched "ooo"s and jeers and hisses erupted around the ring, which Aloy took as an intended insult. Whether Nil shared this understanding was impossible to tell; his face seemed blank, and only because she knew him was Aloy aware that his eyes, washed out in the projection, were most likely sparkling with excitement.

The two men who'd agreed to try to kill each other met in the middle, stopping a few paces apart. Stepping over to Nil, the deputy who'd been talking this whole time asked, "What's your name, outlander?"

"Call me Nil," Nil stated, his chin raised, and Aloy suspected that she alone heard the subtle undercurrents of eagerness in his voice.

"Uh…" the deputy frowned. "Begging yer pardon there, matey, but we'll need a little more than that. 'Shands versus Nil', well…you can see how that makes an odd name for a matchup. You have a surname?"

"Not anymore," Nil replied. "Hence, 'Nil'. But if you want my full name-"

"Yes, please, full name," the deputy nodded.

Nil flashed his teeth. "Aren Khane Nil, that is to say, Aren of the house of none, formerly of the House of Lakshar, decorated soldier favored by His Luminance Jiran, thirteenth Sun-King of the Radiant Line," he declared proudly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" laughed the deputy. "That first bit?"

"Aren," Nil groaned exasperatedly. "Aren is the name my parents gave me, if you must know. But Nil is who I am."

"Whatever you say, bucko," the deputy chuckled, and he stepped back, away from the two fighters. "Deputy Shands, and Aren of the east, you've both been checked and stripped of any illegal weapons or resources," he declared. "You each get one blade, the clothes on your backs, and the breath in your lungs; no medicine, no ranged weapons, no allies, no gadgets. With what you have on you, the rules are simple: Do anything it takes to survive, with the understanding that neither of you leaves this arena until one of you is dead. Do you accept these terms?"

"Aye-aye!" Shands answered readily.

"Oh yes," Nil smirked, flashing his teeth, "I most certainly do."

"Shake on it, then," the deputy told them.

Shands stepped forward and held out a hand sideways in front of him. Nil stared. "What is this?" he asked.

"It's an old-world ritual," Shands answered. "An oath of mutual respect and understanding between two people."

"Ah." Nodding, Nil stepped forward and reached out his own hand likewise, if somewhat awkwardly. Shands took it, wrapping his fingers around Nil's palm, and Nil reciprocated; their hands bobbed up and down a few times, and then Shands let him go and stepped back, Nil mirroring the movement.

"On my mark!" the deputy stated, stepping back a couple more paces and drawing a pistol.

Aloy glanced up at the 'clock' again, and saw that the second set of numbers read "58"; her blood was chillwater in her veins, her breath coming hard, but she would not look away from what was about to happen. A metal bar ran in front of her seat, and she reached forward and gripped it, hoping to ground herself as she returned her attention to the projections, and the men beneath them.

Shands drew his sword, and Nil drew his knife.

"Try to give these folks a show, won't ye?" Shands taunted Nil. "Don't make it too easy."

"I could say the same to you," Nil responded smoothly, his teeth gleaming. "You're fighting for your life, so don't go easy on me; give me everything you've got."

"Hah!" Shands barked. "Ye're a confident one. But words won't save you."

"I couldn't agree more," Nil told him. "Let's talk with our fists and our metal, and maybe we can reach an understanding by the end."

"Aye…" Shands growled, his lips stretched in a lopsided grin. "We'll see. Ya got guts, outlander, I'll give you that." He shifted into a ready position. "Let's see how long it takes me to spill 'em."

"Don't get too cocky," Nil said. "The first few men I killed on Bloody Beach underestimated me, and fell without even trying to save themselves. Try not to make their mistake."

"Get set!" shouted the deputy.

Nil brandished his blade, settling into a stance, but even Aloy could tell he was leaving the right side of his stomach wide open, as though inviting an attack. As hard as she tried to tell herself she didn't care who won, she still found herself praying that a deliberate invitation was exactly what the gesture was.

On the clock, the "11" on the far left turned to "12", and a gunshot rang out, not needing any help from whatever old-world technology filled this place to be heard.

Immediately, Shands leapt forward, his sword aiming for Nil's wide-open weakness. Without missing a beat, Nil spun to the side and slammed the handle of his blade against Shands's passing back, his foot catching Shands's ankle, and the Corsair fell flat on his face.

"What was that?!" Nil laughed, stepping back. "I thought you'd offer at least a little more of a challenge!"

Shands picked himself up, and even through the projection, Aloy could see the bewilderment in the deputy's face. Snarling, the Corsair charged Nil again, swinging his sword wildly; Nil easily blocked him, his expression incredibly bored, casually deflecting a few blows before catching the blade with his own and slamming his fist into Shands's jaw. Shands stumbled, and Nil kicked him in the stomach, spun around behind him, and kicked the back of his knee while shoving him by the shoulders, and the deputy hit the dusty ground again.

"Come on," Nil chuckled, stepping back again without even hefting his knife, "you're not even trying!"

"Are you gonna kill me or not?!" Shands demanded from the floor.

"That depends," Nil smirked, flashing his teeth; "are you actually going to try to kill me?"

Bellowing with rage, Shands leapt to his feet and swung his sword again, but his movements were sloppy, and Nil blocked him easily. This time, all he had to do was grab the Corsair's coat after another wild swing and spin the man around, and Shands fell on his own.

"You're too distracted," Nil said, pacing around the fallen man, no longer smiling. "Take a breath, let your anger out with it, and then give me a real fight."

The deputy didn't respond.

"I'd kill you right now, but that would be a waste of such an exciting setting," Nil went on, still circling his opponent, and he gestured to the crowd shouting and calling angrily around them. "I know you can do better than this, I can see it in your eyes. I don't want you to just hand your life to me, I want to take it by force. So take a moment, and then, get up." Nil's voice lowered, his lips curling viciously. "Get up so I can knock you back down!" he snarled. "And this time, make me earn it!"

Slowly, carefully, Shands rose to his feet, but instead of charging, he settled into a defensive stance, both hands on the hilt of his sword. Nil stopped pacing, planting his armored boots in the dust and raising his knife, this time leaving no apparent weakness. For a long moment, the two men eyed each other.

Aloy felt her heart thundering in her chest, the blood in her ears dampening the shouting around her.

At last, Shands stepped forward and swung, but this time the movement was controlled, deliberate, and strong. Nil raised his knife to block it, but no sooner did the metal clash than Shands readjusted his swing, aiming for Nil's side. The tribeless hunter was ready, and the two blades flashed as they began trading blows, faster, relentless but now more evenly matched as far as Aloy could see. Fists swung, boots kicked, as both men tried to gain the upper hand and failed. Aloy's knuckles turned white where she gripped the metal bar in front of her and she didn't notice; the blades stopped, there was a flurry of movement she couldn't follow, and then Nil rammed his forehead into Shands's face, the Corsair stumbling for a moment as Nil's blade sang out, slashing across his opponent's chest - not a killing blow, but the shirt under Shands's coat was ripped, as was the skin beneath. The former Carja made no further movement as Shands backed up a pace, his hand to the cut, before pulling it away to reveal a dark stain on his palm, visible in the projection.

"FIRST BLOOD!" screamed the crowd. "FIRST BLOOD!"

"Unbelievable!" exclaimed the uninvolved deputy who'd stepped back to stand against the edge of the arena, his voice still projected through old-world technology. "The outlander has drawn first blood against Deputy Shands! We may have a real match on our hands after all, folks!"

In response to Shands's disbelieving glare, Nil flashed his teeth. "Are you ready to take this seriously?" he asked the Corsair.

"You'll pay for that, outlander," Shands growled.

Nil laughed wickedly. "Make me," he taunted, grinning.

Roaring, Shands lunged forward, and Nil met him halfway, his own knife raised. The movements went from fast to outright frenzied, and over the shouts of the crowd and the clashing of metal on metal, Aloy heard Nil start laughing.

"There you go!" he cheered joyfully. "That's what I'm looking for! Hah, you fight like my sister!"

Shands snarled and redoubled his efforts, his sword moving almost too fast to see, before he abruptly kicked Nil's leg out from under him; Nil fell hard, but before Shands could bring down his blade, Nil gathered a handful of dust and threw it at his face, blinding the man for a split second before rolling over and rising again, just in time to block the next swing.

"Don't get angry again," he chuckled. "It's a compliment. Fighting my sister was a challenge few soldiers have ever given me."

They dove into it again, now giving it their all. Dust kicked up underfoot as the two men maneuvered around each other, fists grazing air, blades hitting armor, until Shands managed to bash Nil's jaw with the hilt of his sword. Aloy's heart leapt as Nil stumbled, but rather than bare a weakness, Nil turned his upset into a smooth dodge-roll that gave him a second to come back up and block the next swing of Shands's sword with his knife.

"Yes!" he grinned even as he spat blood, already moving to swing at his opponent's leg. "That's more like it! Make it good for me!"

He dove in again, and Shands wasn't ready for him, but instead of landing a mortal blow, Nil kicked him in the side and spun away. A tight knot twisted in Aloy's gut; she knew exactly what her partner was doing, and it made her sick.

The fight renewed, more clashing blades and swinging blows, diving and lashing out and kicking up clouds of dust. More of Nil's strikes landed, but Shands's thick coat took most of them; when Shands's much longer blade found its mark in Nil's arm, the former Carja cackled.

"Oh, yes!" he roared, practically moaning with ecstasy. "That's it, tear me apart!" He bared his side and allowed Shand's blade to carve open another wound, but it was a diversion that allowed him to stick his knife in the man's leg; blood spilled from both bodies, and Nil dove away before turning back and lunging again, cackling.

After just a few more blows, it happened again, an opening that Nil didn't take, instead spinning away to give Shands time to recover, and this time it seemed the deputy noticed as Nil deliberately passed up the chance to end his life. "Have you forgotten that this fight is to the death?" he demanded of the tribeless hunter.

"I'll kill you when I'm satisfied," Nil told him, baring his teeth, "and not a moment sooner!"

"Everybody hit the deck, this guy's crazy!" the commentating deputy exclaimed.

"You have no idea," Aloy whispered.

"What's he playing at?" Kryse asked beside her. "He could've ended this fight three times now!"

"He's…" Aloy swallowed hard, trying not to choke as she answered Kryse's question. "He's…savoring it. Because he's having fun."

More wildly, the men clashed again and again, and Nil started leaving teasing little opportunities for Shands to hurt him, taking minor blows so he could respond in kind, though he didn't give any dangerous openings. When Aloy eventually managed to tear her eyes away from the contest long enough to glance at the clock, she saw that ten minutes had gone by, yet neither of the contenders showed any signs of stopping. Under their feet, the tan, dusty earth began to darken, turning into mud, and all the while Nil laughed in sheer glee.

Blows started finding their mark as both fighters began to tire, and Aloy pressed her lips together, trying not to scream. In the background, she heard a shift in the noise of the crowd, and she blinked, refocusing her attention on what she was hearing. The cacophony had gotten almost rhythmic in places, as though a bunch of the Corsair had started screaming a hunting song at the tops of their lungs. Glancing around, she saw nothing but excitement on all the spectators' faces, most of them on their feet and cheering wildly, some of their mouths shaping words to join in the song Aloy couldn't quite interpret, fists in the air as they jumped up and down with delight that almost matched Nil's own.

"And to think," a dark voice suddenly spoke up in Aloy's ear, "these people cheering for bloodshed are the very people Ted Faro called 'innocent', the ones he thought he would be protecting by destroying APOLLO."

"Sylens?" Aloy choked, turning her head and looking down, trying to shut out everything.

"No, Aloy," Sylens told her, "don't avert your eyes. Look around you, and look well. Bear witness to the true face of humanity, and perhaps you'll finally understand my life's work."

"What…?" Without really thinking about it, Aloy looked up again. She saw the joy of the crowd, she heard the cheering, she heard Nil's laughter, she saw the two men trading blows, Nil's bloodstained grin on display in the projection for the world to see.

"You can't tell me you don't see the parallels between this and the Sun-Ring," Sylens said. "It was just like this for the Carja. Two completely different tribes, with absolutely no knowledge of each other, and yet the result is the same. It's as I've long suspected, Aloy: this is what humans are at their core. Barbaric, savage, with an endless hunger for destruction and slaughter. All humans will always revert to this in the end, no matter who they are or where or when they might have lived…and the only cure for this brutality is knowledge."

"No," Aloy said softly. "No…" She shook her head, still keeping her eyes on the projections of Nil and Shands. "Go away, Sylens."

"Very well," Sylens said, "I think my point has made itself well enough. There is no way to look upon all this and draw any other conclusion."

"I said go away, Sylens!" she snapped, raising her voice.

No response came, and she gripped the metal bar even tighter, until she was surprised it didn't dent under her strength.

The laughter coming from within the arena was growing strained; Nil was wheezing, but so was Shands. Their blows were growing clumsy with fatigue, and Aloy watched, waiting for the moment it all ended, but Nil kept passing up opportunities to make that happen.

Another clash, another push, and the two contenders stumbled away from each other. Bruised and bleeding from countless injuries, they both stopped, gasping for breath, hands on their knees, their eyes locked over the blood-soaked earth.

"You're quite something," Shands finally panted. "Shame you weren't born Corsair. Ye'd make a fine captain…maybe even a Sheriff one day."

"I don't want power," Nil shook his head, equally out of breath. "I'm not one to make decisions or give orders." He flashed his bloodstained teeth. "All I want is to kill until I die." He heaved for a few more breaths, then went on, "Tell me, Shands…what is it you want in life? If I kill you now, what business will you leave unfinished?"

"I'll never get to be Sheriff," Shands answered. "Never get to lead my tribe."

"And what would you do if you were Sheriff?" Nil pressed. "What goals do you have that only that title would allow you to pursue?"

Shands gave a wheezing laugh. "Spoken like a man with no ambition," he chuckled.

"Or nothing to prove," Nil countered. "I don't need a title to know who I am, or live the life I want to live. I could have been a kestrel back east, you know, but I turned down the position; I didn't want it. All that mattered was that I could keep fighting."

"Heh…" Shands grinned. "Well, I suppose the only thing I wanna do that I'd need to be Sheriff for is to name Lanida as my first mate," he said. "It's not every woman who manages to become a deputy. Mad respect for her."

Nil chuckled. "I understand that," he grinned. "I'm honored to follow my warrior-queen, Aloy. Some few fighters just have that spark, you know? Man or woman."

"Aye," Shands nodded. "And what of you? What regrets would you leave behind if you die here?"

"None," Nil answered. "I don't live for regrets. I have my bow, my blade, my purpose, and my identity; I have worthy prey, a strong opponent, and blood I can proudly spill. I even have things beyond that, things I never knew I wanted before I came to the Forbidden West - I have the best friend a killer could ask for, and I have Aloy, the finest warrior I've ever known, for a partner." His grin stretched. "Really, there's only one thing I want that I don't already have: a good death." Drawing one last deep breath, he straightened up and hefted his knife. "Will you be the one to give it to me? Or will you be the best kill I've ever had? I think it's time to find out."

"Hah!" Shands laughed again, also straightening up. "One last charge, then? No more breathing until one of us breathes our last?"

"Sounds good to me," Nil told him, flashing his teeth.

"Well, Nil," Shands said, taking a ready stance, "whichever one of us leaves here alive, it's been an honor to cross blades with ye, and no mistake. Shame this friendship can't last beyond here and now."

"A delightful friendship, but it would be no fun if it could last," Nil responded. "It's been an honor to cross blades with you, too, Deputy Shands; no matter who wins, you've given me the best fight of my life."

"Here we go, then," Shands growled. "To end it all. Three."

"Two," Nil grinned, shifting readily.

"One."

For a split second, even the spectators seemed to go silent and hold their breaths, as the fighters all but glided forward on bloodied mud, blades raised, teeth bared in savage grins. Then there came the familiar sound of metal hitting metal, and all the noise rushed back all at once, cheering, chanting, screams of encouragement, scuffled dirt and clashing blades and grunts of pain as the contenders gasped for breath around their wounds…but no more laughter. Now, finally, both men were dead serious, the game was over. Shands gave no more openings, and Nil snarled as a boot hit his leg, dropping to one knee even as he continued deflecting his opponent's blows. He rolled, just far enough to get back to his feet, and dashed back forward into a flurry of movement that Aloy couldn't quite follow. Had they both been holding back all this time, or was it just that they were now sprinting to finish, one final burst of desperation driving them to more than they'd been capable of before? She didn't know, nor did she care, it was painful enough to watch every blow that landed. At last, Nil got another opening like the ones he'd passed up, and this time he moved to take it, only for Shands to respond just in time and block him, quickly taking back control. Aloy felt as though she was being tossed around on an Annihilator's swinging tail, her fingers long numb from her death-grip on the metal bar.

Nil spun out of the way of Shands's blade, only for it to have been a feint. The tip of the sword came for Nil's stomach, and Aloy nearly screamed - but then Nil swiped his free hand and wrapped his fingers around the blade, gripping it as tightly as Aloy was clutching her support rail. Shands blinked in shock, Nil grinned, and then with a jerk, he yanked the deputy's weapon away, tossed it aside, stepped closer, and buried his knife in his opponent's throat, wrapping his free arm around the Corsair as he twisted the blade and slashed it to the side, admitting a gushing crimson fountain as Deputy Shands breathed his last.

A deafening scream erupted from the crowd, everyone shouting at the tops of their lungs, stomping their feet and slapping their hands together, all of them seemingly trying to make as much noise as they possibly could, nearly drowning out the uninvolved deputy's declaration.

"Incredible!" cried the commentator. "Unthinkable! Deputy Shands has fallen at the hands of an outlander!"

But all of Aloy's attention was focused on Nil, the way he gripped his opponent tightly, his knife hand now holding Shands's face so he could look directly into the dying man's eyes. Softly at first, so softly that only Aloy could perceive it over all the screaming, she heard him moan in pleasure, then start to chuckle. The chuckle rose, and when he at last allowed Shands to fall to the ground, he threw his head back and fully laughed, cackling with sheer glee like the madman he was. Looking around and still laughing, he lifted his crimson-stained knife into the air, his other hand sweeping in a wide gesture, encouraging all the cheering.

"Is there no one else?!" he asked the crowd through his overwhelming mirth. "Will no one else raise a blade to me?! I could do this all day!"

"Enough!" shouted the deputy who ran forward to his side. "The fight's over, you've won, you've made your point!" With Nil still cackling, he grabbed the former Carja's free hand by the wrist and lifted it into the air. "The winner!" he declared to the crowd. "Aren Khane Nil, of the outlands!"

Another deafening cheer, more stomping and clapping and whistling. Swallowing hard, Aloy pried her fingers off the metal bar and sat back, burying her face in her stiff hands.

"Thought you'd be happier," she heard Kryse remark in her ear.

"That makes one of us," she mumbled, not sure he could hear her. "But at least everyone else is."

By the time she could lift her head without running the risk that she might burst into tears, she saw that Nil was being led back the way he'd come in, presumably to reclaim his belongings. Seized by emotions she couldn't put words to, Aloy stood and began struggling her way out of the stands, single-minded in her need to get back to the fitting room and talk to Nil. Not caring who she shoved or how hard, blind to everything but her own frenzied pursuit, she fought her way through the throngs of Corsair leaving the stands and back into the tunnel, finally reaching the passage no one else was taking and darting into it, her boots pounding on the metal floor until she reached a door guarded by two men she didn't have the capacity to notice weren't the same as the ones before.

"Move," she grunted to them, pushing past before they could even draw their swords, and she fumbled and shoved at the door until it opened, revealing two Corsair captains, one Corsair deputy, and the blood-soaked killer who was reclaiming his possessions.

"No no," Nil was saying, "I don't want medicine; I'd rather these wounds close up and form into scars on their own, in honor of the man who dealt them."

"And what if they get infected?" Aloy heard herself ask.

Nil turned to her, and immediately grinned; his lip was split and swollen, one eye had been blackened, and he was covered in blood and mud, but his silver eyes were positively radiant. "Aloy!" he exclaimed delightedly. "You were watching. I knew you would be."

"Oh, I was watching, all right," Aloy told him furiously. "I saw the whole thing. Nil, are you out of your mind?! If they're offering you medicine, take it - if your injuries get infected, I won't take care of you."

His eyebrows raised, but he smiled, flashing his bloodied teeth. "I wouldn't ask you to," he assured her. "I think I'll just jump in the ocean later to clean them."

"You're insane!" Aloy shrieked.

"Boys, I think we'd better go," the blue-cloaked Corsair spoke up, and the men in red coats readily followed him out the door, leaving Aloy and Nil alone.

"What on Earth was that, Nil?!" Aloy demanded of the tribeless butcher.

"That," Nil grinned, "was the best fight I ever had! I'm glad we came, Aloy!"

"Well, I'm not!" Aloy snapped. "Nil, you could have ended that fight so many times, I lost count of the opportunities you had to just kill him, even after he started taking the fight seriously! Instead you just dragged it out, pointlessly, on and on-!" She cut off, still waving her hands in wild but vague gestures, her whole body burning with rage and other things she couldn't name.

"I was having fun," Nil shrugged. "I told you I would spend every waking moment on the edge of death if I could…" His grin stretched against his cut lip. "And Shands took me closer than I've ever been," he told her, his voice a passionate caress. "I wanted that fight to last forever, and I could see that he did too. Would that it could have…I've never felt more alive. So yes, Aloy, I did make it last."

"You're insane," she repeated faintly, shaking her head.

"Besides," he went on, turning back to the rest of his possessions and gathering them up, strapping on his packs one by one, "we were talking."

"Talking?!" Aloy exclaimed.

"A language only men like him and I speak," Nil chuckled, "and a more meaningful one than any based on words. They put a thing on my neck and told me the whole crowd would hear whatever I said; did you not hear our conversation at the end?"

"I heard," Aloy admitted. "But I didn't understand."

"And you never will," Nil stated, meeting her eyes again.

"A fight, a conversation, call it what you will, the point is you could have ended it!" Aloy cried. "Instead you - you made me watch! You made me watch you savor it, knowing I'd be able to tell, knowing what you were doing! How could you do this to me?!"

"I didn't do anything to you," Nil told her lightly. Tilting his head, he added, "You're acting like you're waiting for me to apologize, but I have nothing to apologize for. I am who I am, Aloy, and I'm proud of it; I've never claimed anything else."

Ice speared through Aloy's core, cutting her open beneath her bones, and she stumbled back a step. "Unbelievable," she breathed. She shook her head, and she couldn't help that her voice cracked as she repeated, "Unbelievable!"

Then she turned and ran.

She ran, head down, blind to everything, just trying to keep herself together as she emerged into the light of day and turned for the gap in the wall on the northern shore. Somehow, she managed not to knock anyone over, but her only goal was to get away, far away, from anyone, from everyone, tearing her Focus off her temple and shoving it into one of her quivers so Sylens wouldn't see anything; a storm was brewing in her chest, and she could not let anyone see it hit.

Somehow, she made it to the beach, past the wall, and then she was alone save for the pounding of the waves to her left, all her energy focused on running, dashing for the camp she and Nil had set up, too upset to even register the fact that somehow her Striders were still there, overridden and waiting. When she reached the place she had set up to rest at with her partner, she dove into the ruined walls, slammed her fists against the ancient stone, and finally allowed herself to scream. She screamed and screamed, overwhelmed by emotions that seized her and threw her about on tempestuous winds, and this not being enough, she started rampaging around the crumbled building, punching and kicking at rubble and the unlit campfire and her own belongings, heaving rocks and any other objects her hands found and throwing them as hard as she could, drawing her spear and slamming it against crumbling foundations, screaming all the while, mindless, shattered to her very soul, driven even crazier than Nil as she destroyed everything in the camp, smashing and throwing and punching and kicking and roaring and howling until her muscles quaked with fatigue and her throat was on fire, and then a little more for good measure.

And when at last she couldn't keep it up anymore, she crumpled to the ground, and for the second time in her life, broke down and cried.

It all hurt so much, in ways she'd never had to contend with before. She hadn't realized just how close she and Nil had become until now, when his single-minded bloodlust allowed him to hurt her in places she'd never allowed anyone else access to, places she'd never trained herself to harden or be numb to, places that had now been suddenly torn apart by her mate, leaving her a blubbering mess who couldn't even think. Somewhere along the way, Nil had managed to work his way into her h - her soul, and take root there, ingrained into her until he'd gained access to weak points she'd never known she had and didn't know how to defend.

In that moment, her only comfort was the knowledge that no one was around to see any of this breakdown, that she was alone with this riot of emotions and even Sylens would be none the wiser.

Little did she know that there was in fact a single pair of eyes on her. Standing on some rocks on the edge of the waterline, invisible to human eyes, positioned carefully so that it would leave neither prints in the sand nor a void in the water, a single figure watched this outburst passively, unable to share in any of what it witnessed. Through its eyes, its mother-goddess saw the whole event, and felt validated, glad that she had made beings that would never know such suffering, for the capacity to fall apart like this was surely nothing other than a flaw.

~o~

By the time Aloy had finished crying herself out, she was surprised to see that the sun was still fairly high in the sky. Wiping her face, practicality set in, and she began trying to piece together the camp she'd just ravaged, gathering all the shattered wood back into a pile in the middle and rearranging her belongings…and Nil's. At some point, she'd dented that collapsable pot of his in such a way that it wouldn't fold back up quite right, but she was so burned out that she could barely muster a flicker of remorse, no more so than she could for the fact that one of the fabricator modules in her pack of valuables had broken entirely in half. Outside, she finally registered the presence of her Striders, and distantly wondered how it was that they were still here. Were they outside of GAIA's domain, so far away from a place the nurturing AI would ever have sent them that they couldn't be called back to their herd? It was as good an answer as any.

Grabbing a spare rag, Aloy walked into the ocean and started cleaning her face; a stinging alerted her to her split knuckles, and she realized she must have punched the stone enough for her armor to become so overwhelmed that she'd actually managed to hurt herself. She downed a basic extract and continued cleaning up, until she felt at least presentable; with the storm past, she'd thought everything through, and realized what she needed to do, without the capacity left for the instinctive rebellion that would normally reverberate in her chest in response to her decision.

Taking a breath, she put her Focus back on and walked down the beach, reentering the domain of the Corsair festival with her head held high, unable to care what anyone thought just now. The crowd was thick, and Aloy tapped on the shoulder of the first Corsair in a colored coat she could find, a red-cloaked man with an orange-tinted blond ponytail and a hefty build.

"Howdy," she said, "excuse me."

"Can I help you, little missy?" the Corsair captain asked.

"Do you know where I can find Nil?" she asked him. "Er, the outlander? The one who killed Deputy Shands?"

"The Champion?" the man asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Aye." He lifted his hand and pointed a thick finger towards the southern shore. "Last I heard, he was at the watering hole, downing drinks with everyone like there's no tomorrow."

"Thanks," Aloy told him.

"Say, you're his partner, yeah?" the man asked. "The outlander girl he came here with?"

"Yeah, I have to go," Aloy said shortly, already turning her back.

The man chuckled, but Aloy ignored him and started walking, pushing through the crowd as politely as possible.

Stalls of various goods passed, and then Aloy found herself in a different sort of place, this one full of all sorts of foreign smells. Noting the various foods on display with a passive eye, she slowed her pace, looking around until she saw a larger building and a throng of black-cloaked men all talking and laughing together…and among them, crowned in his unmistakeable red-feathered headdress, was Nil.

Setting her jaw, Aloy moved closer, curious. Nil seemed to be happily conversing with the Corsair men crowded around him, and at the last second, she chose to spy instead of approach, ducking behind stalls and passing groups of people until she could make out Nil's voice.

"-really strike you as the type to fall for a pretty face?" Nil was chuckling.

Aloy swallowed, her heartbeat picking up.

"Don't get me wrong," Nil told the Corsair, "Aloy is gorgeous. But her true beauty lies in her strength." His voice went deep and passionate. "When she draws her weapons and gets that look on her face, that mask of raw determination, then charges forward and starts raining destruction down on her enemies…" He sighed dreamily. "My friends, there is no sight in this world more glorious than that."

"Until you see what's under the armor," chuckled a man's voice.

"No no," Nil insisted. "If I had to choose between seeing Aloy naked and seeing her in battle, I'd rather see her in battle. She's breathtaking to watch."

Several men laughed, and one spoke up, "Your stories are all fine and good there, matey, but I won't believe a cute little girl like that's capable of a real fight until I see it for myself."

"And may the Sun have mercy on you if you do," Nil remarked, chuckling again. "Aloy doesn't draw her weapons unless it really counts. That's part of who she is, you know?" Aloy's heart skipped a beat. "She's an incredible warrior, but she doesn't enjoy a good fight like I do - she does what she feels is right, and nothing more. She's a hero, you know? A protector, not a killer. If she ever seeks out a fight, it's because she knows that her victory will protect innocent lives; she'll fight to the bitter end to survive against any Machine, but she even feels bad about that. But make no mistake, anyone who gives her a reason to think that the world would be a better, safer place without them in it should count themselves lucky for every breath they're allowed to take. Aloy is truly unstoppable."

Her eyes burning with tears she didn't have left, Aloy stood from her hiding spot and walked over to him.

"To fight at her side was an honor," Nil went on. "I was lucky for the chance."

"What do you mean, 'was'?" Aloy asked.

Nil jumped in his seat and turned around to face her, his silver eyes wide with shock. He looked better, washed clean of dirt and mostly of blood, though still severely cut and bruised. "Aloy," he gasped. "I…" He shook his head, staring. "I thought maybe you'd gone on without me."

"Gone where?" Aloy asked, somehow managing a small smile and a shrug. "The festival's right here, isn't it?"

He gave a mirthless laugh. "I guess so," he conceded.

"Nil-" she began, dropping her smile.

"Wait," he told her abruptly, lifting a hand to cut her off, and only then did she notice that his other hand held a cup made of clear glass that was half-full of some amber liquid. He flashed his teeth at her. "Before you say anything, you need to try this." He turned around to face across the counter he was sitting at. "Barkeep!" he called to a man busy with some bottles behind it. "Another one of those, uh…what did you call them? The white ones, with the fruit?"

"Piña colada?" asked the man.

"Yeah, that," Nil nodded.

"Coming right up," the Corsair nodded back at him, his hands already reaching for supplies.

"Nil, I really don't-" Aloy tried.

"No no, you need to try this," Nil insisted to her. "You'll like it. Just trust me one last time, I promise you won't be sorry."

"Are you trying to dull my feelings with alcohol?" Aloy asked, allowing herself a playful smirk.

"More like with sweets," he shrugged, smiling back.

"The Old Ones did say that sweets are the key to a woman's heart!" remarked one of the Corsair Nil had been talking to.

Accepting that this had to happen, Aloy sighed resignedly and stepped over to the counter to looked beyond at the man busy at work, ignoring all the eyes on her and the fact that the conversation had entirely died the moment she'd appeared. A double-layered bowl held a block of ice, so Aloy could only assume the bottom layer was filled with chillwater that had been used to freeze the water; as she watched, the 'barkeep' pulled out the ice block and tossed it in a metal container of some sort, held up off the table he worked at by a metal stand from behind. Placing another bowl under an opening in the container, he turned a crank in the side, and white powder began to fall into the vessel.

"Is he making snow?" Aloy asked, surprised.

"Shave ice, the Old Ones called it," answered another of the men who'd been keeping Nil company. "An old-world favorite."

"Huh," Aloy remarked, eyeing the growing pile of manufactured snow. The man at work was still turning the crank, but now he was doing it with one hand, his other hand pouring various liquids into a glass, resulting in an off-white mixture. A minute later, he stopped cranking, poured the liquid into the bowl with the false snow, stirred quickly with a metal tool, then dumped the whole mixture back into the glass. Grabbing a small stick and placing it in the glass with the mix, he turned around and set the drink on the counter.

"For you, miss," he told her with a smile. "On the house, in honor of our Champion."

"Um…thanks," Aloy told him, taking the cold cup and eyeing the contents. "So…what's the stick for?"

"It's a straw," Nil told her. "You drink through it. Just suck on it."

"She good at sucking, mister Champion?" snickered a Corsair behind him.

"What?" Aloy asked the one who'd spoken, completely bewildered.

"We don't do that," Nil told the chuckling Corsair calmly. "I would never demean her like that."

"Aw, mate, you don't know what you're missing!" laughed the man.

"That's enough," Nil growled, shoving at him.

"Nil, what is he talking about?" Aloy asked.

"Don't worry about it!" he told her quickly, turning back to her and flashing his teeth. "Really, it's nothing. Just try the drink."

Hesitantly, Aloy brought the stick to her lips and sucked it, like she would a minor cut on her finger. After a moment, cold slush poured into her mouth, shockingly sweet in a strange way, like no fruit she had ever tasted; right on the very edge of the flavor, she could make out the sharp tang of alcohol, but it was almost easy to ignore, and she grunted in surprise.

"You like it?" Nil asked as she swallowed.

"Yeah," she blinked, licking the inside of her mouth. "It's…actually really good."

"Isn't it?" he grinned.

Intrigued, she went back for more, gulping down mouthful after mouthful, surprised that the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted would be a liquid.

"Oh, don't drink it too fast-" Nil began, reaching out as though to stop her.

But it was too late; a dull pain exploded at her temples, and she cried out, putting her hands to her head. Several of the men around her laughed, including Nil, and she glowered at him.

"It's okay," he told her even as he smiled; "I made the same mistake myself. You can't drink ice too fast, it seems. But it's hard not to, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" Aloy shook her head as the pain ebbed, and though she was tempted to keep drinking, there was too much left, and she wasn't going to waste her time. "It's good, but I'm done," she told the Corsair behind the counter. "Thank you, though."

"Don't you drink, little lady?" inquired one of Nil's acquaintances.

"On occasion," she replied, before turning to Nil and adding, "but I'm not going to fall for distractions." She reached out to push the hand that held his glass back down to the table, meeting his silver eyes. "Nil," she said in a low voice, "can I talk to you? Alone?"

He let out a deep breath through his nose…then nodded. "Sorry, boys," he told the Corsair around him, raising his voice as he set down his glass and hopped off the backless chair he'd been perched on. "My mistress calls me."

"You really let her order you around?" asked one of the men.

"And proudly so," Nil responded, stepping away. "It was nice drinking with you, though."

"Aye!" agreed another Corsair. "Let's do it again sometime. Don't be a stranger."

"Cheers," Nil smiled at him, but Aloy was already walking away, and he followed.

"They're awfully friendly with you," she remarked as they started making their way through the crowd. "You know, considering you killed their future Sheriff."

"They respect strength," Nil responded with a shrug she didn't have to look back at him to see. "Shands was their best; I was better. That makes me the best. It's not that hard to understand."

"Whatever," Aloy muttered.

"Aloy-"

"Not here," she told him before he could say anything. "Follow."

He didn't respond, and they finally reached the gap in the north wall and emerged onto the beach, alone. Even here, Aloy didn't stop, walking until they were back at the camp she'd torn apart earlier.

"Well," Nil sighed as they both stepped into the square of crumbled stone that Aloy luckily hadn't managed to smash much further despite all her rage, "we're here now. Care to tell me what for?"

Aloy turned around and met his eyes. "I'm here for an apology," she told him.

Glowering, Nil shook his head. "I don't owe you an-"

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, stepping closer to him.

Nil stopped short, his mouth half-open, his eyes widening.

"Nil, listen, I…" Aloy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then met his silver gaze again. "You…You know who you are, with such absolute clarity, and it's…admirable, how perfectly you understand your place in this world. That's why you were the one I turned to for help the day we agreed to come to the Forbidden West, and…honestly, I envy you for it, Nil, that kind of self-understanding is what I came out here to try to find for myself, there's nothing I'd like to have more than inner peace like yours. And…when I asked you to call off the fight with Shands, I…I was basically asking you to give that up. That wasn't fair, and if anyone ever tried to do that to me, I would hate them. So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for asking you to turn your back on your own identity, when your acceptance of your identity is probably your most admirable quality."

"Aloy…" Nil said slowly.

"But what I need you to understand is…" She swallowed hard, rethinking her words. "You…You've said that who you are is a killer, not a torturer," she said. "That you take no joy in the suffering of others."

"I don't," Nil stated.

She nodded. "Then what I need you to realize is that…for every moment you spent in that arena, I was suffering."

He blinked.

"That fight was torture for me, Nil," Aloy went on, her voice cracking, and she let it, baring herself and her emotions completely, as she only ever had or could with her partner. "It was almost unbearable, to watch you savor the edge of death like that, when there was nothing I could do about it."

"But why?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "It had nothing to do with you. Why did it hurt you?"

"Because I care about you," Aloy told him, "and you-"

She cut off as absolute shock slammed down across his face and he stumbled back a step, his breath catching.

"You…didn't know that?" she asked softly, stunned in her own right.

"I…" Nil shook his head hard. "Aloy, you can't care about me," he stated. "No one can care about me."

"I know I shouldn't," Aloy said, "but-"

"You know how I feel about that word," he scoffed. "I'm not talking about 'should's, Aloy. You can't care about me."

"Why not?" she asked. "Because of your sister's curse?"

"Informally," he nodded, and she withheld a groan of irritation. "My own family cast me out. If my blood can't care about me, no one can."

"Well, I do," she told him firmly. "I don't love you, but you're my mate, and I do care about you. What happens to you affects me." Drawing a deep breath past the lump in her throat, she confessed, "The fight didn't remind me of my experience in the Sun-Ring - the setting did, but the fight itself…made me think of the day Rost died."

Nil blinked, apparently speechless.

"Helis had been choking me," Aloy went on, "his knife to my throat, and by the time Rost forced him to let me go, I was barely conscious. I couldn't do anything but watch while they traded blows, couldn't do anything but lie there as…as Helis plunged his knife into Rost's stomach, and Rost fell, and I was…helpless." Choking, she swallowed hard, and it seemed that somehow her body had managed to replenish her supply of tears; she didn't try to fight it as yet another drop of hot liquid poured down from her eye. "I couldn't do anything then," she repeated in a whisper, "and I couldn't do anything today. That…That was torture, Nil. And you dragged it on. You tortured me."

"I…" Nil was still blinking, bewildered, but something else was sparking behind his silver irises. One of his hands came up to press over his heart, an unconscious gesture Aloy had seen him make before but still wasn't quite sure how to read.

"Do you understand?" she asked him.

"…I do," he told her, and he sighed, his hand dropping. "I mean, I don't, but…I do, enough. And…I was wrong. I do owe you an apology, Aloy." He stepped forward, meeting her eyes seriously. "I'm sorry," he said. "If you're guilty of trying to take my place in this world away from me, then I'm guilty of doing the same to you. I know you don't stand back and watch things happen, not when it's something you care about - if anything, you're the one who does things while other people stand back and watch."

A surprised laugh worked its way out of Aloy's throat by reflex. "Yeah," she managed, "that's…usually how it goes."

"You're not a bystander," he went on, "and I know that. And yet I asked you to stand back and watch, and not do anything. That was cruel of me, and I'm sorry." He tilted his head…then flashed his teeth at her. "Next time, I'll make it very clear that either you get to fight with me, or I don't fight at all."

"That's not what I'm asking for," she told him quickly. "I wanted no part of that fight. Just…if there is a next time, which I really hope there isn't…don't drag it out, at least? Please? I understand why you couldn't kill him at the start, when he didn't think you were a threat and wasn't giving it his full effort - it wouldn't have been honorable to take advantage of his underestimation of you and all that, I get it - but after that, you didn't have to make the fight last so long. Please, don't make me watch you drag it out again?"

His smile widening, Nil nodded. "I can do that," he told her. He tilted his head and added, "Can you forgive me this time?"

"That depends," Aloy responded; "can you forgive me?"

"I already did," he told her, flashing his teeth. "I forgave you before you even apologized."

"Thank you," she breathed. "And I forgive you, too." Pressing her lips in a tight smile, she held out a hand, palm-up. "Partners?"

Something flashed in his silver eyes, something she had never seen there, something she had never thought anyone would show her: a naked vulnerability, a sign that he was as open to her as she was to him. Nodding, he reached out and took her hand, pressing his palm to hers. "Partners."

Pure relief washed over Aloy, and she smiled, then lunged forward and hugged him, her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder. His arms encircled her once again, holding her close, and she felt whole, warm and safe and at peace.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she breathed. She pulled back a bit to look him in the eye, her hands coming up to trace gently over his battered face. "I might have said otherwise to some people at the time, but…I'm really glad you're the one who came out alive."

"Are you?" he asked softly.

"I am," she nodded. "And, Nil…please take some medicine. Just one basic extract? It…It pains me to see you so injured."

His head shook slowly back and forth, ever so slightly; then he pulled out a vial and downed it, still staring at her, his eyes wide, as though she was the most impossible thing he'd ever seen.

"Thank you," she said, offering him a small smile.

"Aloy, I…" He sighed, his expression oddly pained. "I really thought…You seemed so angry, I was sure we parted ways earlier."

"No, Nil," Aloy stated, shaking her head. "We're not going to part ways. I don't think we ever could, no matter what happens."

Behind his eyes, she saw him think of the very things that occurred to her the moment the words left her lips: about how their time out here in the west would end someday, and about who they were to the people back east, what the Nora and the Carja thought of each of them respectively and what their union might mean, might cause. But he didn't say it, nor did she. "Is it…worth it?" he asked instead, his voice barely a whisper, as though he didn't dare ask at full volume.

Aloy smiled at him. "Yes," she answered readily. "You're worth it, Nil."

"No I'm not," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well, this is," she revised. "This thing between us. What we have…what we share…it's strange and confusing, but it's absolutely worth it, it's worth all the pain and all the anger. I've been angrier than this before, Nil, but I've never been this close to anyone, and no one has ever made me this happy. That's worth fighting for."

He let out a long, deep breath…then turned away from her and stepped out of the half-shelter, his head tilting back until he was looking directly at the sun. When Aloy stepped up beside him, she heard him give a soft laugh.

"What?" she asked him.

"It's just…" He shook his head, then turned to her, his lips barely quirked upwards. "I was so sure the Sun had forsaken me," he told her.

"Well," she chuckled, "whether it has or not, I certainly haven't."

Nil opened his mouth, then stopped, as though he'd been about to say something but changed his mind, though Aloy couldn't imagine what that might be. Closing his mouth, he gave himself a slight shake. "Well," he managed at last, "our dispute with the Corsair is settled, so we should be able to participate in the rest of the festival without any issues. It's going to last a couple of days, and well into every night, or so I hear, but even so, it'll only be so long before the Corsair return to the sea." Flashing his teeth, he held out a hand to her. "Shall we, my love?"

"Yes, please," she told him, taking his hand readily, and they made their way back down the beach together.

Behind them, still standing passively on a rock by the waterline, that same invisible figure watched them go, having heard the entire conversation. It felt nothing, of course, but the mother-goddess that saw through its eyes did, and her proud conviction wavered, confusion filling her incorporeal being in response to the human girl's declaration that the emotional storm that had devastated her merely an hour prior was 'worth it'.

How, ELEUTHIA wondered? How could such suffering be worth it? Maybe this girl was even more special than she seemed…

---

A thousand apologies for the SUUUUUUUPER-long chapter, but none of the scenes at the beginning or end really could have been moved to the previous or next chapters, and I obviously couldn't split up the middle. Another thousand apologies after that, too, because I'm afraid I'm going to have to put this story on hiatus once again as of now. I hope it'll only be another month-long hiatus, like the last one, but I won't promise as much. We're about two-thirds of the way through the story at this point, if you were wondering, so do stay tuned; just give me a little more time, please and thank you.