The Broken Skies

by Maelove21

(Kotallo x Aloy x Hekarro) Aloy's heart beats for Kotallo but her duty leads her to a political marriage with Hekarro. And somewhere along the way, she finds herself torn and confused by the affections of both all-consuming men. Keeping her heart beating is one thing. But keeping it 'whole? Well… that's the most perilous trial of them all.

23. The Danger And The Doomed

Author's Notes :Thank you to everyone that has been patient with me and waited for this update. I hope this was worth the wait.

I highly encourage you to find this story in for a more immersive experience so you can see the artworks I've made for the story

On a very serious note, we have come to the point in the story where darker themes will be discussed and explored. This may not be for everyone so please pay special attention to the following trigger warnings so you can decide if this story is for you. TW: canon typical violence, The character Nil, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, mentions of child loss, mentions of child abuse, violence and death, mentions of pregnancy and loss If for some reason you decide that you are still here with me for the ride, then thank you so much and I hope you enjoy. If not, no hard feelings and thank you for stopping by. Either way, I'm so glad to be back and while I can't promise that the updates will be back to a regular schedule (life hasn't been kind to me lately) I can promise that I will be doing my best to continue if you are still interested for the many twists and turns i have in store. I love you all. Thank you so so much. Please let me know if you like this chapter in the comments. It's the only thing keeping me going at this point. Also please keep an open mind with my characterization of Nil. I ask for your trust and just know that not everything is as it seems.

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Ch. 23 The Danger And The Doomed

Fresh snow crunched beneath the weight of tiny feet, scurrying its way back home. She ran through the snow, her flushed cheeks prickling with the threat of frostbite as her hurried breath brought fog to her skin. Her heart pounded with fear; her only warmth from the cold embrace of winter's harsh kiss. A trail of blood dripped and followed her, leaving behind a path of spattered crimson. And from a short distance, the smoke from the chimney loomed tall above her head; a beacon of home, but also a warning of the stern scolding that awaited her inside.

Rost stooped over the fireplace, his back facing the parting doors. Tending yet again to his stonework with a whittle and a blade as he always did. As far as she was concerned, the man paid more attention to his carved trinkets and sculptured effigies than he did her.

Like any of it ever made their fortunes any better.

Yet tonight, his busywork came to her in relief and she crept closer, hoping to sneak in unnoticed into the warmth of the cabin. But just as she was about to reach her bedrolls, the floor creaked under her measly weight. She gasped, curling into herself as her keeper's keen ears picked up the sound of her footsteps. He turned around, his scowl darkening as disappointed eyes met with the guilt in hers.

"Aloy." Rost simmered, his voice filled with disapproval. "You're late."

Her heart sank upon hearing the chilling bite in his words. Her hand flew to her disheveled hair, smoothing her shorn bangs over her brows as best she could. All the while, Aloy tried to come up with an excuse, but the Deathseeker's eyes were like the winter's icy glare, seeing through any lie. He eyed her warily from head to toe, before grabbing her wrist in alarm, noticing the dirt embedded underneath her filthy fingers.

Rost brushed her crimson hair aside, growling the moment he found the wound on the child's forehead. "You've broken taboo again. Didn't you?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Aloy stammered, shrinking inwardly and avoiding his piercing stare, "I-I was just trying to play with the others. They were the ones who started throwing rocks."

Rast's scowl deepened, his words a cold wind that cut through her. "And so you threw your fair share of stones at them in return. Again."

There was no question in him. Nor any compassion for her wounds. As far as Aloy could tell, the man cared far more about every other soul in the Embrace than the one seeking for his before him. And that fact alone, enraged her far more than any insult and shrapnel that any Nora have ever thrown her way.

"They deserved it." She snapped, her hiss just as biting. "They hurt me first!"

Aloy tried to explain, but Rost was just as unreasonable as all the rest of the world.

"It doesn't matter who hurt who first. You broke the ways of the All-Mother again, Aloy! I thought I taught you better than this!" His words were like knives, slicing through her defenses. He continued to scold her, his every breath a bitter winter storm that beat down on her. She stood there, her head hanging low, hardly even surprised as her keeper, once again, reprimanded her to no abate.

"Those children would have had every reason to stone you to your death. You are fortunate that you managed to run away without far worse!"

"Who said anything about running away?" The young child giggled bitterly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. If she was already in trouble for her deeds then she might as well gloat.

"I didn't escape from them. They escaped from me."

She hummed darkly and with great pride, innocence hardly palpable from her half-cocked smirk.

Rost paused to glare at her, entirely speechless. His stony face, hardened at her words, his mouth pursed and pressed together before he would explode.

"You are forbidden to leave our fences until spring comes, and you are forbidden to use this devilry, ever again," he said, ripping the Focus she held dear away from her temple.

"B-but my training. I need my Focus to train—"

"And since you have chosen to arrive late for supper, you will sleep without one tonight."

"But I was just—"

"You have spoken quite enough, Aloy. You will use your newfound time to reflect on your actions and nothing else. And if you are so confident in your ability to best all others now, then there is no more reason for you to train any further for the Proving."

"But that's not fair!"

"This conversation is over," Rost turned his back to her, returning once more to his table by the fire. "Clean yourself up before you go to bed. The All-Mother will not have you stain the fresh linens with dirt and blood. And neither will I."

Aloy's cries grew louder as she stomped from behind, scalding tears building up beneath her lids. "You're always punishing me, when it's everyone else who deserves it," the young girl sniffed. "All you ever care about is the s-stupid Nora and the stupid All-Mother! Well g-guess what?

They don't care about you! They don't care about us! They don't care if we make it through this winter or if the drought kills us in the summer. No one cares about what we do or how we'll die BECAUSE WE'RE OUTCASTS! WE. DON'T. MATTER. TO ANYONE!" She wept angrily, her freckled nose scrunched up with anger, before she whimpered softly, sagging with grief.

"I… I don't even matter to you," Aloy whispered before storming off back into the cold embrace of winter.

That is what he taught her after all, wasn't it?

When faced with bitter confrontation, it is simply best to run away.

Aloy slammed the cabin door shut behind her, hot tears streaming down her face. Rost had been very strict with her for as long as she can remember, but especially so lately— ever since they agreed that she would try to win the Proving. He was always around and yet never there for her. Except for when he was adding more to his arbitrary rules on what she could and could not do, punishing her for just about everything except for breathing.

And she simply couldn't take it anymore.

The cold air hit her like a wall as she stomped away from the humble hut, heading back into the blizzard. She didn't know where she was going, nor did she have the slightest idea where to find the comfort she so desperately sought after. But as the unforgiving chill of winter winds seeped into her bones, Aloy soon realized she had nowhere to go.

Like an act of mercy from the All-Mother she despised so much, a tree fell before her—roots and all— with a heaving thump. With no other form of shelter anywhere around, the small girl decided to hide beneath its creaking trunk, with its dried leaves and branches nestling around her— giving her the warmest embrace she's ever known.

She curled up behind the log, letting the tears flow freely. Strangely missing a family she's never known and the warmth of a home she's never had. Sure, Rost had taken her in since she was a newborn, but he had always kept a careful distance from her, acting more as her warden than a c. father. And in times like these… Aloy couldn't help feeling like she was no more than a prisoner in flight.

Just as she was starting to feel numb from the cold, someone lifted her up from her almost-slumber. Rost. He picked her up tenderly, cradling her in his arms tight.

And in the slightest gentle gesture, Rost kissed her clammy brows, forgiving her— just like that. Aloy wailed then and there, her sobs echoing through the gust-laden mountains. She cried into his shoulder harder than she'd ever had known herself capable of, her small fingers clinging onto the warmth of his shawl. She wept and wept, yet he didn't say a word, just held her close as he carried her back to the cabin.

With careful steps, Rost trudged into the warmth of their rustic hut, sitting her next to the fireplace before patting the snow off her shoulders. He sat her down and knelt beside her, holding her tiny hands inside a single calloused palm, cupping over it with the other as if he held precious treasure. And with gleaming grey eyes, he looked into hers and spoke softly.

"I am sorry, Aloy. For everything. For every moment that I made you feel like you are not what matters most to me."

Her pouted lips trembled, and Aloy sniffed, fighting off another round of tears.

"I know that I have been distant. I know that my discipline often seems unfair. But everything I do, every decision I have come to, are all made with the best for you in mind.

You see… you still have a chance to belong, Aloy. While I… Well… Let's just say that I have long been resigned to a life alone."

"You were never alone," the young girl croaked angrily. "I've been here with you. I'm the one that's alone."

"I suppose it was my mistake to think that your future after the Proving would be enough to make up for all that you lack today." Rost nodded, features softened with wistful remorse. "It was wrong of me to push you away, I see that now. But please do not be angry at this old man forever for his foolish mistakes.

All I want is for you not to end up like I am: a man full of hate and regrets."

"I don't hate you though," the child said. "I hate everybody else, but not you." She giggled mischievously, wincing as her guardian began to clean the wound beginning to scab at her brow.

"Is that so?" The man chuckled. "And what is it that you know of hatred, little one?"

Aloy frowned, mind churning with a myriad of busy thoughts. "I know that I hate the High Matriarchs for exiling us. And everyone for the way they treat us. And I really hate those boys that threw rocks at me. But… It's me I hate the most for letting them trick me."

"Tricked you?" Rost scowled.

"Mmmmhm," Aloy sniffed, eyes glimmering from the recollection. "I found us some berries for supper, but on my way back, they called for me. They broke taboo f-first. Said they were h-hungry. So I gave them my basket… B-but then they started l-laughing at me and throwing r-rocks and c-calling me n-names."

"Oh, Aloy," Rost hummed with clenched teeth, running his hand through her tear stained cheeks. "This is why I tell you never to speak to them. Those children are nothing but trouble."

Her lips trembled and she nodded, sniffing through her stuffy nose. "Y-you wanna know the worst p-part?" Aloy hiccuped.

"Tell me," Rost replied, leaning closer.

"T-they didn't even eat the b-berries!" she wailed, crying into his neck as he embraced her fiercely. She clung to his beard with her quivering fingers, sobbing even louder as her stomach rumbled."That's why I fought back." Aloy confessed, depositing one last jagged rock from her pocket and into his palm. "That's why I hate them all."

"Oh, Aloy. How I wish you did not have to learn the harshness of this world so early. All-Mother knows I tried to prepare you for it, at the very least," Rost sighed deeply, caressing her back as he took the measly weight of jagged mineral away from her hold. Patient as the man ever was, he waited for her tears to abate, smoothing over her hair ever so dotingly. "I suppose I can only keep trying."

Only when her shaking died down did he stand her up, just before guiding them closer to his masonry and workstation, scattered about with the rocks he used as raw material for his carved idols.

"You see, Aloy, hatred is like a stone. It starts small; a pebble that you can hold in the palm of your hand. But its weight grows and tires the spirit the longer you hold on to it. And the more you hate, all the more you carry, and the load you bear soon grows larger and heavier." One by one, he placed a rock on both of her palms. First, the one she owned, and next the rest, all that he carried in his person until both her arms began to ache.

"Eventually, it becomes so heavy that you can hardly move. The mountain of it all weighs you down, until you are consumed with nothing else but the burden of it. Until you are nothing more than stone yourself… Or until it crushes you." All the rocks crumpled down the floor in a heap, her slight arms no longer able to withstand its enormous weight. The sudden imbalance had her slender knees wobbling, and Aloy came tumbling down along with the stones.

She tried to rise with great difficulty for the small boulders were heavy enough to pin down her limbs. Rost picked her up with ease, much to her relief, before sitting her back down on his usual seat by the fire.

"I have followed the path of hatred and seen where it leads, Aloy. And I don't want that for you."

Aloy listened to Rost's words, each one of them poignant and meaningful, striking a chord within her. It was a worthwhile lesson, one that she can almost follow… if it didn't leave her even more confused.

"So am I just supposed to let them keep hurting me? Why should I keep the rocks when I can just throw them back?"

Rost could only chuckle, rubbing his brows then his beard.

"Because there is another path for you to choose; One that most are too blind to see.

You can end the cycle, Aloy. You can make the change. And turn a thing of ugliness into a thing of beauty," the man answered, presenting an intricately carved talisman for her to wrap around her spear. It was another one of his many handmade protection charms; made of the same minerals that had cut her skin and made her bleed.

She hadn't had the heart to tell him that they never lasted. That one bad fall and a sneeze would always have the talisman shattering in a million fragments.

Yet somehow, he always knew to make her more.

"And though the day will come when the stone will weather and turn into sand, you can find comfort in knowing that there is one less rock in this world to strike and wound another." Rost said, closing her palm over his gift.

"I… I don't get it," Aloy frowned, wiping away her tears.

Rost's lids wrinkled as he broke into warm laughter. He pulled her into a hug, holding her close as the fire crackled in the background.

"You speak so much like an elder I often forget how young you still are. I suppose I should be glad that such things are still a tad too difficult for you to understand." He pinched her cheek endearingly, before handing her a steaming bowl of stew that had been kept warm by the hearth. "I hate to think of the time when you truly will."

"When will that be?"

"Someday. Though not someday soon, I hope," Rost hummed, watching her slurp her meal with deep satisfaction. "And many years from now when you have plenty of children to call your own, I pray that you will pass this lesson on to them as I have passed it on to you."

"Eeeeeww," the young girl shuddered. "I don't ever— EVER— want to have a baby," Aloy declared, feigning to upheave her supper.

"And why not?"

Aloy leaned in closer, cupping her hands over his ear before she shuddered a reply.

"Don't you know? You have to kiss boys to have babies, and all the boys here are mean and gross." The child confided, wide eyes aghast and innocent.

"They are, aren't they?" Rost burst in a bubble of hearty chuckles. "But you never know what the future holds, little one. Many things may change between now and tomorrow." He smiled wistfully, shoulders shaking from amused laughter. "I do ask that you humor this old man's dreams of grandchildren, if only for a moment."

"But… Why?" Aloy grumbled petulantly while her guardian smoothed down her messy hair.

"Because children bring us hope, Aloy." he murmured, "And because I can't help but hope that the love you'll find in motherhood may make up for all that you have lost in being motherless.

Or at the very least; bring you peace whenever you find your heart at war."

The small girl frowned, lips curled in a pout.

"Do I bring you peace?" She asked, curious and skeptical.

Rost could only laugh, kissing her forehead before slowly carrying her to bed, her small body a perfect fit in his large embrace.

"Oh, my sweet girl. You bring me anything but."

---

The desert was a harsh and unforgiving wasteland, a sea of sand that stretched on endlessly, far beyond the horizon, the heat of the day blurring the distant mountains into a hazy grey. The dunes danced in waves of gleaming gold and burnt orange, shifting and changing with the whims of the wind, casting long shadows across the waterless ocean. It shimmered before Aloy like grains of loathing—suffocating and merciless— choking the life from all who dared tread upon them.

As she wandered around the desolation beyond Scalding Spear's gates, Aloy couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. The vastness of the desert was both breathtaking and oppressive; a humbling proof of her own insignificance in the grand scheme of history. The rich carmine of the dunes served as a stark reminder of the countless lives it has claimed within its barren wilderness; staining the earth like a scar— Yet another timeless testament to all the cruelty and violence that constantly haunted the hellish landscape from centuries of drought and war.

She was nothing more than a stranger in this land: A winter child of the eastern forests and a summer Chieftess of the western jungles. But here in the thorned heart of this arid kingdom, there is no such thing as seasons.

Here, there is only the prayer and the wait; The endless plea to the heavens for the rain to come. And a lifetime of wondering if it will always remain unanswered.

And it was magnificent.

And yet… Despite her best attempts to embrace it, to be a part of it, to belong in it and all its savage beauty… A bitter realization had inevitably dawned on Aloy; just a breadth beyond acceptance.

That no matter how much she tried to love the desert, the desert will never love her back.

Aloy sat under one of the many palm trees that mysteriously dotted the fallow badlands, her hands expertly shaping a rough stone into a small work of art as the tree rustled in the hot breeze, its leaves whispering secrets in the still air. The sun beat down on her through the cracks of the browning leaves, baking her skin a warm burnished pink and yet she barely noticed.

How could she? When her mind was consumed with ghosts of the past and the regrets of the present, and her heart was far too heavy with sorrow and doubts of a looming future in question.

From a near distance, she watched as Drakka and his men fought to control their small swarm of newly overridden machines. The soldiers laughed and shouted, teasing and cheering one another. Their jovial voices carried across the sand dunes, but their attempts to tame the beasts were clumsy and comical at best. And when the cocky commander flew in the air, screaming as he was unceremoniously unseated from his chosen Clawstrider, Aloy should have found it all so very amusing.

Yet at this moment, she simply could not bring herself to laugh.

Hekarro quietly approached her, his footsteps soft and recognizable even from its quiet thump. She didn't turn to greet him as he stood behind her— refused to— and instead chose to grit her teeth while he watched her work in silence.

"You are upset with me," he said, his voice deep and gentle.

Aloy didn't respond, her hands continuing to work the stone as if her life depended on it; Her indifference answering plenty enough for her.

Ever so gently, the stoic Chief placed a large hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, startled. He withdrew it quickly, his expression apologetic, blue eyes glimmering with hurt.

"Have I wronged you so deeply that you recoil from my touch?" he said, clenching his hand in a tight fist to his side.

Aloy finally looked up at him, her eyes filled with anger and betrayal. "You undermined my command."

"I delayed your sentence."

"But you didn't just delay it, did you? You completely disregarded my order, Hekarro. I wanted Nil exiled, not taken prisoner. But you snapped your finger and overturned it like nothing I said mattered."

The proud chief's face fell in an instant just before morphing into that of regal indigance. "I have every right to demand the identity of any fool brazen enough to stake a claim on what is mine. And it is because of my devotion to you that he yet draws breath." Hekarro reasoned, almost patiently.

Aloy could only roll her eyes.

"That's not the point though, is it?" She snapped, glaring at him. "How can the Tenakth respect me as their Chieftess if even their own Chief doesn't uphold my authority? I thought you said we would be equals."

Hekarro's eyes widened, taken aback. "You know it was never my intention to disrespect your leadership."

"I know better than to demand for anyone's respect. Especially yours. I know that I have to earn that much, at least." the huntress retorted. "But do you remember what you swore to me when you asked me to marry you? What you promised me in exchange for my name and the rest of my life?"

"You need not remind me of that night, Aloy. The memory of it has already been seared in my mind long ago."

"Then say it. Tell me what you promised," the huntress demanded.

"I promised you Kingdom. Power. Everything you wished for and more," the towering man hummed, features taut with an unknown emotion.

"Many other kings have offered me just as much," the huntress stood, chin tilted high and proud. "But I accepted your proposal because it was only you who swore I would be more than just someone's puppet queen. That my voice would be heard.

But you didn't even listen to me." She glared at him, utterly crestfallen. "Was all of that just a lie?"

Hekarro's expression hardened, eyes darkening with deep remorse and he walked towards her. He reached for her once more, yet thought the better of it and slowly pulled his arm back to his side.

"I… No… Of course not," he struggled, lips thinning with iron restraint to hold back what seemed to be a million words. It was a rarity for a man of such eloquence to be so profoundly perturbed, for the ever so indomitable ruler stared at her with a shrouded gaze, almost poised for some kind of bitter confession.

"If you only knew the lengths I have gone to stay true to my word, then you would never ask such a thing," Hekarro rasped, each breath swelling with palpable ache. "But you are right. My Chieftess' command must be absolute and impenetrable, even to me." Instead of reaching for her hand, he offered her his, hoping that she would take it on her own accord.

"Forgive me, setarrah. I suppose I am not as used to sharing my reign as I once had been. It is much more… challenging than I remember."

The livid huntress lost all fire as ghosts from Hekarro's past came flitting about beneath his weary lids. Her stomach sank at the thought of Orrehna. Of their time together as partners and equals; of their shared rule over their combined tribes until she decided to betray all that which she loved.

Aloy nodded slowly, shoulders sagging while she accepted his apology and his offered touch. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry too. It's not like I'm really angry with you. I'm just… really angry. "

Hekarro knelt beside her, his gaze steady and loving as he kissed her knuckles lovingly. "There is nothing wrong with embracing your fury." He murmured, gliding his lips over every bruise and scar and callous marring her battle-worn hand. "What I cannot understand is why you are so angry with yourself."

"Because I still can't kill him." Aloy confessed bitterly. "Red Teeth. Nil. I can't kill him no matter how much I try. No matter how much I want to. And believe me: I really want to."

"Why not?"

"Because that's what he wants more than anything in this world. And I refuse to give him the satisfaction," she hissed coldly.

"I can give you what you want, Aloy," the all encompassing Chief offered. "You need only say the word and all that you desire will be yours."

"If only it were that easy. But I want too many things… and all of them are so damn far out of reach."

"Tell me anyway," her husband answered. "If only so I may know what lies in your heart."

Rost used to preach to her how wishful thinking never did anyone any good. And yet here she was, wishing upon a heart. Just as her father once wished upon hers.

"I… I want Nil gone. I want him as far away as possible from all that I love and never worry of what he can take from me ever again," she rasped, feeling foolish and yet unburdening herself all the same. "I want to finish the trials as soon as possible so we can have all the orbs and know everything about Project Destiny and what it has to do with HEPHAESTUS and the Corruption. I want the rebellion to end and Tarruk captured and I want to find the antidote to his poison so he can't ever hurt you, or Kotallo, or any more of our men again."

And with a hollow whisper, Aloy confessed,

"But what I want the most in this world, no one can ever give."

"And what is it that you desire the most?" Hekarro whispered, entirely enthralled.

"All of it," Aloy answered darkly, her voice laced with grief and rage. She clenched her fists and bit her cheek bloody, as if to punish herself for all that she greedily coveted. "Everything I never had."

Hekarro looked at her, confused. She didn't elaborate, but the hollowness in her gaze spoke volumes between them. And so, he sat down beside her, and wrapped his large arm around her waist in silence. And together, the two magnates leaned against each other as they watched the nearby desert men struggle to master their respective machines.

They shared a quiet chuckle while the lowlanders tried to teach the others how to ride their new mounts, their amusement punctuated by the clanking of metal and the grunts of exertion from the frustrated warriors. Unable to help himself, Hekarro's rugged features softened as he leaned closer to her ear and murmured.

"It seems it will take a while before our people can ride as expertly as you, setarrah. You make it all look far too easy."

Aloy turned to Hekarro with a sly grin on her face. "I'll try to give them some pointers every once in a while," she giggled, her green eyes sparkling once again. "I can't promise you anything about Drakka though. The poor guy looks pretty hopeless." She pointed to the clan commander, having a very vocal argument with a belligerent Clawstrider.

Hekarro neither agreed nor disagreed, instead choosing to look onwards in hopes of more promising prospects. He spotted one easily, and casually pointed towards a much smaller warrior carving wide- circles around the sand, confidently sat atop a Burrower he had easily mastered.

"Navvan is faring much better, I see," the Chief smiled, pointing at the small boy practicing weapon drills with Beta and the rest of her family, already fully mounted. "You did well in naming him seledrra. You must be quite proud."

She fiddled with the sharp chisel at her hand, resuming her mindless task of carving stone into statue, but not before giving the young boy a warm yet passing look.

"The festival got the best of me and I wanted to console him. It was just a whim of the moment. Nothing more." She said distantly, swallowing a sudden pang in her chest. "It's his mother that's gotta be proud. Have you met her? She's quite an incredible woman."

"I can't say that I have had the pleasure of being formally introduced," he notioned dryly. "But I have long heard of the desert clan's cunning advisor. I've also heard that she has managed to rise among their ranks very quickly despite never once seeing a single battle. Anarra, is it not?" Hekarro hummed, studying her features with scrutinizing contemplation. "Kotallo was once very protective of her a long time ago."

Aloy's lip twitched with a quiet grimace while her hands worked on engraving deeper markings into the rock within her hold. "Protective? How so?" The huntress asked flippantly.

The usually confident man faltered, and looked upon her with skittish reluctance. "I am not certain that the answer will paint Kotallo nor I in a better light to your eyes."

"Well now I really have to know," Aloy teased, fingers trembling in secret while she nudged him with her shoulder.

Hekarro considered his next words carefully, hesitating to speak before relenting to her wishes.

"When he was but a newly appointed Marshal, Kotallo failed in an important mission I had given him without any explanation. It was a failure we could not afford, and one that still costs us many lives to this very day. Yet despite my offers of leniency in exchange for the truth, Kotallo would not give me a reasonable cause for his defiance.

I found out the truth in time, as I always do, and discovered that it was Anarra who was truly at fault for the whole mess. Yet when I demanded Kotallo to bring her before me so she could be punished accordingly, he simply refused and demanded to take the lashings in her stead."

"Lashings?" Aloy gasped, eyes widened with horrified shock.

The stoic chief grunted with woe.

"I was a much crueler man, then, Aloy. I had to rule with an iron fist if I was to effectively unite all three warring clans," the ruthless conqueror reasoned, his voice spattered with shame. "I saw no qualms with his offer since he merited punishment for his disobedience as well. So I had Regalla whip him ten times for his insolence. And another ten on behalf of the troublesome girl."

"I may be maimed, but I've still got a strong back."

She could almost cry at the thought of Kotallo, brought to suffer so much pain. She could almost loathe Hekarro for what he had done to the bearer of her soul. But if Aloy judged everyone for the mistakes of their past, then there would be no one else in the world left to love.

So the huntress chose to remain quiet, holding her aching breath and her traitorous heart at bay.

"Kotallo and I had little reason to like each other before then…But any chance we had of sharing true friendship was dashed ever since that day." Hekarro wistfully confessed. " And yet, we have never respected each other more."

She turned to him, confused.

"How come?" Aloy asked, tilting her head with piqued curiosity.

He answered her with a heavy sigh. "I saw merit in Kotallo's loyalty and his resolute refusal to turn over a friend. And he saw merit in my mercy, since any other ruler would have had the both of them executed in the Gallows for defying their leader's command."

The huntress released her shaky breath, holding her precious pendant with her ring-adorned hand. Finding what little comfort she could from the fragile trinket when she thought of Kotallo and all the scars he wore yet never once shared with her. And though a part of her should feel betrayed by the notion that she did not know her Marshal as well as she thought she did, the just as reticent huntress supposed the two of them were one and the same when it came to keeping secrets from their past.

"Did you at least have him sent to the healers after?" She wondered out loud, concerned for a collection of wounds long healed many years ago.

"Of course. He has always been a slow recoverer, but even the skin and flesh mends itself after a time." Hekarro assured. "Then Kotallo covered his back with more ink and paint as soon as his wounds closed. And Anarra was none the wiser about the entire ordeal." He mused in quiet consideration, before adding,

"I doubt she ever learned of Kotallo's sacrifice for her, even up to this very day."

Aloy turned away, resuming her busywork with reckless strokes of blade against stone. "I… I see… She must be quite special to him then."

Hekarro gazed deeply into her eyes, sky blue glimmering with a bittersweet longing. "If only," he chuckled, pulling her closer, ever so gently. "And yet I have never seen Kotallo gaze upon anyone else with the same adoration as he has for you."

Her heart fluttered at his comforting words, but a hint of confusion clouded her mind."Why are you telling me this?" The huntress flushed meekly.

"Because it is the truth. And because Kotallo is at least a worthy and honorable rival, and I wish to continue treating him as such," he replied. "But I have yet to discern the true intentions of your prisoner, Red Teeth."

Aloy's mood turned somber at the mention of Nil's chosen name among the Tenakth. "His intentions don't matter. That man cannot be trusted, no matter what he says." she warned, her voice heavy with the weight of past hurt.

Her words only piqued Hekarro's curiosity even further, and he reached out to gently grasp her shoulder. "I have never seen you carry so much resentment for any other man before. Tell me, Aloy. Why does his presence affect you so?"

Tearful eyes lowered, her mind's eye filled with tormented visions. She feared the full extent of Hekarro's wrath; surely, if he knew the whole truth of the Carja's cruelest sins, his anger would lead him to seek revenge in her stead— a more bloody one at that.

And she would just adore him all the more for it.

A thousand lashings would never be enough.

"You know how I said I never loved Nil?" she whispered, almost laughing, "That was a lie. I did love him.

Not in an 'I'd die for you' way. Not even in a 'forever' type of way… But I thought I loved him enough to make up for all the ways I didn't."

She spoke with fondness for the rose tinted memories she bore, mourning for what once was and yet feeling so foolish now that she knew what could never have been.

"He taught me how to be a better fighter. He taught me how to kill a man quickly and how to make death come slow. And when I mastered that too, he taught me how to enjoy it."

"I enjoy battle too, Aloy," Hekarro consoled.

"Do you enjoy killing?"

"I enjoy winning. But never the kill itself," he answered, pensive and grave. "It is a means to an end to me, and nothing more."

Aloy nodded, gliding her thumb against the edge of her blade while she swam across the murky pool of marred memories in her mind.

"Well Nil does… and so did I."

There.

She finally said it.

And it was so much easier to admit to Hekarro than she thought it would be.

"I liked killing bandits and rapers because they deserved it. I liked to see them hurt like they hurt many others. And I liked to see the look on their faces before I ended their lives when they thought they would be ending mine." She quivered, not daring to look up and meet him in the eye.

"You speak as if you are ashamed of it." Hekarro hummed without a single note of admonition.

"I am ashamed," she snapped. "Because I know better. I know the difference between what's wrong and what is right and ending a life, no matter how justified… should never be fun."

To that much, Hekarro could agree. And yet to another end, he could not follow. He exhaled deeply, careful in his every chosen word.

"I am not like you, Aloy. I do not believe in good or evil, nor do I care for what is wrong and what is right;. There is no such thing," he whispered, grazing her scared cheek with a calloused thumb. "I believe in living for a greater purpose, bleeding for what I love, and destroying anything that dares hurt or threaten what is mine."

Aloy gulped, tremulous as she replied. "What if who you love is what threatens your very purpose? What do you do then?"

His lips tightened, contorted in a soft grimace as Hekarro suddenly looked away.

"Then I suppose, I must decide which between the two I cannot live without… and forsake the other," he rasped, whispering with the heavy tinge of sorrow.

Aloy's heart twinged, the space between her ribs suddenly aching a sharp lancing pain. And while she sought to know which between the two the dutiful ruler would choose given the impossible decision, she supposed… She already knew his answer.

She just didn't know what would be hers.

Hekarro cleared his throat, saving her from the torturous revelry.

"What I mean to say is… there is no reason for you to be punishing yourself for any mistakes of the past. There is no such thing," he clarified, peeling off his mask. He turned to her, scarred and beautiful as he was, and tenderly caressed the scar above her cheek with his rough yet gentle thumb. "Every path you wandered, every obstacle you destroyed. Every man, woman and lost soul you've struck down and felt sorry for all led you right here, where you rightfully belong.

There is no shame in finding joy in every part of it. There is only living with your purpose or dying emptied and hollow."

"If only you had been there to tell me all this sooner," she wistfully sighed. "Maybe then, I wouldn't have made such a mess of it all.

But I was young and Nil always had a way to convince me to stay. The more I loved him, the more I hated myself. The more I hated myself, the more I killed and called it 'saving' to make up for the goodness I lost."

Aloy swallowed, eyes burning with the lost love of an innocent soul.

'He called me his 'fire… And he was mine."

She murmured, voice cracking and lower than the breeze. As if the very admission uttered was a confession to a grisly crime. "Together, we destroyed everything that we touched. And when there was nothing else left for us to burn… he destroyed me too."

"Destroyed you?" Her beloved hummed with danger, the traces of a snarl threatening to show in his stone cold gaze.

"In more ways than one," she forced a reply, though a stray tear shimmering down her cheek spoke loudly over her broken sigh.

"Nil is different from anyone I know. He does not see in black or white or even gray. He doesn't know the difference between good and evil. And he doesn't care who it is he hurts as long as it is him who does the hurting.

The only color he sees is blood. The only code he follows is kill or be killed. And while I did my best to love all of him… I slowly came to see that the only thing Nil loves in this world is the hunt and the killing blow.

"We have a word for men like him in our kingdom." The chief noted, not once judging her for anything she said. His hold on her was calm and unyielding, keeping her tremors at bay . "Morrevvakh." He uttered. "He who lives for death."

" Tell me," the huntress shook, holding her blade tighter by her hilt, hardly paying heed to the intricate patterns she carved. " Is there a word for someone who was stupid enough to hold on to the very thing that's killing her?"

"I… can't say that there is one," her beloved rumbled pensively, palm running against his stubbled jaw. "But the closest translation I can offer you is 'Hemorrah."

"Meaning?"

"She who loved Death," He grumbled, voice thick and laced with anguish. "Or more closely… She who bled for Death."

Aloy's shoulder sagged, almost satisfied and proud to yet earn another name. "That's me." The huntress laughed with a bitter taste in her contorted mouth, beads of moisture clinging across her lashes.

"See… it took me too long before I realized that I was nothing more than a weapon in Nil's eyes. He never loved me. Only the killer in me.

I was his creation. His masterpiece.

He used me as a weapon; an extension of his hands over and over again, and when I refused, he took my love for him and used that as a weapon too. And when— finally— the last drop of any affection I had for him completely dried out and there was nothing left to take… only then did he let me go."

With a kiss, and one last parting gift.

She was shaking viscerally now, her glassy gaze fogged up with haunting memories that tortured her day and night. She wanted to say more, and yet couldn't. She needed to purge herself of poison, and yet she didn't.

"Aloy— I—" her fated one mumbled, torn and at a loss. "I understand." He whispered, tender and profound. Sharing in her anguish while he tightened his embrace. "You need not say any more."

"I'll say this much," she sighed into his shoulder, haunted and hollow.

"I've known my fair share of pain ever since I was born," Aloy swallowed. "But of all cuts I've ever suffered in my life; Nil's will always be the blade that cuts me the deepest."

If he only knew how much it hurt.

How the skin and flesh has mended, and yet the pain blistered over her bones and never left.

How constant and never-ending each slice lingered— not in the woes of a young girls broken heart, but truly, agonizingly, carved and embedded itself into the body of a woman who knew the knife's edge intimately before it struck.

Hekarro's anger grew palpable, though he fought to reign it in with a clenched jaw. The change of colors in his eyes betrayed him however, as ice blue illuminated with amaranthine sparkles that matched the veins glowing beneath his skin.

"Perhaps exile is too much of a mercy for such a man," he said through gritted teeth. "And yet…I doubt his death alone would ever suffice."

She simply shook her head, her voice heavy with sorrow. "No… It won't," Aloy said softly, "For someone like Nil, being alone in this world is the greatest punishment there could ever be."

Hekarro grew quiet, deep in thought as her words sank in. "Isn't it for all of us?" he mused, each breath heavy with pregnant melancholy. And Aloy could only— wordlessly— agree.

"Promise me," she said, her voice earnest, "Promise to never trust a single word he says." She gripped his arm, squeezing it with deep urgency.

"You don't know him like I do: He is the most dangerous man I have ever known."

The proud Chief gave a rare grin, a hint of lightheartedness creeping into his arrogant tone. "Then you clearly do not know me well enough yet," he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I can handle myself, setarrah. There is no need for worry."

"I worry because I care." She couldn't help but smile at his confidence, though she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. "Just be careful what you say around him." she warned, "Or he'll find what is most precious to you and take it, kill it, or destroy it. Solely for the sake of fun."

"He can try," the man growled, glowing brighter. "I certainly hope he does." He hummed, smirking at the delicious thought.

Astounded, Aloy gasped. In her shakiness, her hand slipped while carving the small talisman and her blade nicked her skin. A sharp cry escaped her as she accidentally cut her finger, dropped the damned charm to the sands and watched it roll away from her reach.

"Why would you wish for such an awful thing?" She scolded him, nursing her wound.

Hekarro was at her aid in an instant, grasping her injured hand cupping it, before tenderly licking the blood that had slowly trickled down to her wrist. Aloy couldn't help but shiver at his touch, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she gazed down on such an intimate gesture.

The Tenakth were known to be blood drinkers. And the ancient custom, Aloy slowly learned, could be just as breathtaking as it was horrific, depending on the intention behind the rite.

"Because then I will be able to punish him as I see fit." He answered, gravel roughing up the grit in his throat. "And gift you with the justice you seek and yet deny yourself."

He then tore a piece of his cape and wrapped her hand with it, his touch as gentle and caring as his words were harsh.

"Justice has never been on my side," Aloy said, voice humming the darkness of seething rage she could not contain.

"Then I shall be your vengeance." Hekarro looked at her with a seriousness in his eyes, "And I will not falter."

She trembled as the Chief's fingers lingered on her wound, a gentle caress that was both curious and full of concern. And with a voice that was soft as a whisper, he hummed with the lament of a mournful song.

"I am quickly coming to realize that there are very few things I despise more than seeing you hurt."

She knew what he meant, knew how much he cared for her. But they both knew better than to forget how their duties demanded bloodshed, let alone in the trials they have yet to endure and complete.

"It's all just part of the job… isn't it?" she said sheepishly.

Hekarro's eyes glimmered as he looked at her, "I wish it wasn't."

They sat there, their gazes entwined, lost in a world of their own. Their lips were but a mere breath apart, yearning for a taste of one another. Yet, the boisterous laughter and clamorous shouting of the soldiers shattered their reverie, dragging them back to the tedium of reality.

From a short distance, they glanced at Drakka and his wild antics, cursing loudly while he coughed out a mouthful of sand from a clumsy fall.

Hekarro cleared his throat and picked up the half-finished talisman, now stained with Aloy's blood.

"A custom from the east, I presume?" He asked, turning the small stone over in his hands before returning it to its owner.

"Something like that," The huntress croaked bashfully, hands quivering from the weight. "It's a protection charm that's supposed to ward off evil spirits." Aloy gulped, hoping to hide the measly trinket from his discerning eyes, lest he judge her inferior craftsmanship.

"My… my father showed me how to make them… to help calm me down when I'm upset. But… it doesn't seem to be working today."

Hekarro watched her fondly as she tried to finish it, admiring her handiwork. "It's beautiful," he said, his eyes shining with admiration despite the stain it carried. " Though I wish you would be more careful while you shape it."

"It's alright. They say that the more you cut yourself making it, the better the protection it gives," she blinked, unperturbed by his concern.

Hekarro nodded with solemn disdain. "Carving ore is no easy feat, even for master masons. That is why we Tenakth much prefer to work with the metal we harvest from our kills."

Aloy broke into a toothy laugh, cheeks swollen with fond memories of what once was. "The Nora believe that anything not of earth is cursed and evil, so they pretty much relied on whatever the mountain offered for everything." She sighed, eyes wistful with a childish yearning, long forsaken. "Stone and Leaves. That's what I lived off of until I left the Embrace.

Come to think of it, that's still mostly what I'm living off now." She heartily chuckled. "I guess that the Nora are still a larger part of me than even I'd like to admit. Despite their best efforts."

The stoic man gazed upon her with great consideration; a multitude of thoughts and questions flickering beneath his secretive eyes. He opened his mouth to say something just to think the better of it. And then he cleared his throat and spoke in a controlled and tempered tone.

"Aloy, I…" the usually self-assured man hesitated. "You have done your best to embrace so much of my tribe, and yet it has only occurred to me now that I have barely made an attempt to learn more about yours."

Aloy's eyes widened before drooping heavily with longing. With a hoarse voice and a sigh, barely above a whisper, the melancholic huntress reminded him:

"I'm an outcast, remember? I have no tribe. "

Hekarro tookv her hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. "You are my Chieftess and my wife. You have a home in mine." His thumb glided upon the golden ring upon her finger, before his lips grazed against the surface of her skin, oh so lightly. "And once we finish all Ten Acts of Devotion, no one can ever dare contest your place among the Tenakth. And by my side."

"If only there was any way to finish it sooner," Aloy smiled with her best show of feigned confidence, much to her husband's rumbling approval. "Are… are you ready for tonight's trial?"

"As much as I'll ever be," Hekarro smirked before growing more somber. "Are you ready? I worry that you haven't been quite yourself since Red Teeth's arrival."

"I'm sorry. I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Aloy cringed, silently admonishing herself for her own weakness. "There's just something about him that somehow always brings out the worst in me," she confessed, burying her face in one of her palms. "The sooner he's gone, the sooner I can be back to my usual self."

"Then send him away or feed him to the vultures. I care not what you do with his fate as long it brings you peace." He held her closer, kissing her temple as she settled in the crook of his arm. "But no one should ever have the power to reduce you to a shadow of what you are. Do you understand?"

"No. Not quite."

Hekorra sighed, gathering his thoughts.

"Before you were a Chieftess by marriage, you have been a Chieftain by your own right. Before you became the wife of a conqueror, you were the conqueror yourself. And before you were blessed among the Ten, you were chosen, created and consecrated by the many Gods of your land." He gazed at her with awe and wonder; with the same disbelief of a man witnessing a miracle unfold; undeniable, and yet tests the faith itself.

"You have always been more than the sum of your worst parts. And any man you've learned to fear, should be taught to fear you more."

Aloy nodded, finally understanding.

But before she could reply, the sands shifted around them with clumsy footsteps, disrupting their conversation with a fluttering of jewel toned fabric dancing in the winds.

Anarra arrived, making her presence known with a shy smile among an accompaniment of other soldiers. "My Chief," she bowed low before Hekarro, her long shroud almost touching the ground. "Champion," she then regarded Aloy with a practiced curtsy.

"We were just talking about you," the huntress grinned, becoming the woman closer. "Hekarro, I want you to meet Anarra. Navvan's mother… and my friend."

Hekarro jerked his head in quick regard to the intruder of their peace, more annoyed to be putting on his iron mask again than eager to be exchanging salutations. His eyes narrowed as he studied her strange appearance from head to toe, her bright, intricate garb, an outlandish fashion among the city of warriors bearing armor and nothing near close to her ostentatious dress.

"You look familiar," Hekarro grunted, detached and unimpressed. "Have we met before?"

The demure woman smiled meekly, before answering in a tinkling voice.

"I haven't had the honor until today, your greatness. And though I have heard of your legacy since my youth, I am quite certain that you would know nothing of someone as lowly as I."

The reserved man dismissed the notion with a shrug.

"Perhaps," he said with a raised brow. "But you would be wrong to assume that I do not know the people among my lands."

Not missing a beat, Anarra batted her lashes and released a melodic sigh. She shrouded her lower face from the harsh sun with a near opaque, crimson tapestry made of silk before bowing once again.

"Then you are a far better ruler than even the best of us give you credit for."

"Or they simply give too much credit to all the wrong people. "

"You would not be the first man to assume as much," the woman smiled warmly, clouded eyes almost brilliant with sight by the way she glanced towards the two ruler's direction.

For as much Kotallo doted on the blind woman, just as much as Hekarro regarded her with cold indifference. He studied her with skepticism though held his tongue, and Anarra— much to her credit— not once faltered despite the pregnant silence that grew heavier between all three of them as the seconds passed.

"So…" Aloy coughed awkwardly, scolding Hekarro with a glare to behave. "Is there a reason you came this way with a small army, Anarra?"

"Forgive my intrusion, Champion," the slight woman blinked through her gilded shroud, "I was just on my way to fetch my son but Marshal Kotallo asked me to send word that your… guest… has woken up from his slumber," she said, her lilted words deep and brimming with the accent of the desert. "He insists on having an audience with She Who Is Promised to the Ten."

Aloy's mood immediately darkened before tucking in the unfinished charm back to her pocket. Hekarro helped her up as they stood together, once again back to his regal stature and cold demeanor.

"How very typical of Nil," she bitterly laughed. "He is my prisoner, yet I am still the one being summoned."

"You are the Chieftess. Even I do not have the power to summon you," the proud chief growled with deep displeasure. "He can wait in his cell until his body rots, if that is what you desire. You need only command it so."

How very tempting.

How very tragic.

Here she was, poised with the perfect solution to her problems, if only she were cruel enough to demand it.

"He'll only pollute the soil," she deemed, tall and resolute. "I'll go speak with him. And then I'll have the Marshals send him back to the east where he belongs."

Hekarro shrugged, hesitant to leave. "I assume you do not require my assistance in the matter."

"I… I need to do this on my own." She reached for his face, fingers tenderly caressing the unmasked parts of his cheek "And you need to make sure everyone is ready for what's coming next."

"Then… I shall see you at tonight's trial." He hummed, still unwilling to release her hand in his hold.

Aloy stood on her tiptoes nodding, before pressing her lips against her husband's warm and painted cheek.

"I'll be the one in black," she whispered, blinking up at him with a hopeful green gaze. "Wait for me there?"

"As long as need be," he murmured, kissing her knuckles before pulling her close so that he may utter soft words meant solely for her ears. "Waiting for you will always be the hardest and easiest thing to endure, my heart. "

"Then consider this as your punishment for defying my commands." Aloy teased, leaving behind his tall and imposing figure and striding away. Anarra and the guards dutifully followed and Hekarro smiled, eyes lingering behind his wife until it was his turn to be summoned by the burdens of power.

"Damned is the man you would punish with worse."

---

The long hallway was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small torch attached to its red-tinged walls. Kotallo stood guard outside a prison cell, his one arm holding a dagger as he sharpened it with a steady hand. His eyes were focused and detailed , as if he was preparing for battle with every scrape of steel against stone. The cold metal glinted in the dim light, reflecting off the jagged surfaces of the dungeon.

Kotallo sat like a statue, his one arm holding the blade steady as he sharpened it with practiced precision against the whetstone he balanced on his lap. The muscles in his arm flexed and bulged as he worked, the tendons standingd out like cords of steel. The sound of the blade grinding against stone was the only noise in the dungeon; the flicker of the torchlight casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Red Teeth watched him with a sly smirk on his face, his empty, gray eyes flicking back and forth from the gold-hilted dagger to Kotallo's face. He leaned against the bars of his cell, whistling a tune through the halls, filling the air with a haunting melody. The man seemed almost amused, as if the entire situation was nothing more than a silly game to him.

"Very clever," Red Teeth said, nodding towards Kotallo's one arm. "Being able to work around your… impairment."

Kotallo's hand stilled for a moment before he resumed his task. "It is no impairment," he said, his voice low and steady.

The prisoner chuckled. "Really? Because it looks like a big one to me," he said, taunting the Marshal. "I'm surprised the tribe hasn't outcasted you for being maimed. Are you sure you're even fit enough to be a Marshal?"

Kotallo's grip on the dagger tightened but he didn't flinch, didn't even look up from his task. He simply continued to sharpen his blade, the scrape of metal against stone filling the silence. "There yet remains some value in me as a warrior," he growled roughly, "Enough to beat you in combat, if I remember correctly."

Red Teeth's answering laughter was cruel, the sound bouncing off the walls and thickening the air with malice. "Oh, come on. That was hardly a fight, don't you think?" The man musically replied, "You took me in a chokehold when I wasn't looking. Which may I just say, was a very dirty move," he added, clicking his tongue. "And here I thought you Tenakth fought fair and square."

Kotallo's eyes met Red Teeth's, fierce and determined. "I can beat you in a fair fight any time, with my one hand alone," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Just name the time and place."

The prisoner clapped, a gleeful grin spreading across his face.

"That's the spirit," he said. "I do look forward to our match. I've never fought a one-armed man before. It should be quite amusing."

The Marshal huffed, hardly fazed by the casual mockery. As if he hadn't heard it all before. "For you and I both," he agreed.

"Then it is settled. I'd like to keep that lovely dagger of yours when I win." Red Teeth's grin widened, the gleam of hope never so wicked until splayed upon a killer's gaze. "You did break mine, after all."

He doesn't bother telling him that it was Hekarro that had shattered his blade underneath his heel. It made no difference when the Chief's will and his were— surprisingly— one and the same.

"And what shall my winnings be after our fateful match?" Kotallo grunted.

"I wouldn't worry so much about it," Nil smiled wickedly. "There's only one fighter in this world that can ever best me. And it's not you."

He glanced at him with intrigued caution. But before their conversation could continue, a soft melodic voice approached in hushed whispers, along with the clanking of armor as more soldiers arrived.

Kotallo stood in an instant, whetstone forgotten as it fell by his feet, blade sheathed quickly and away from sight. He hardly noticed the prisoner's curious study the moment he heard her approach.

Aloy appeared, a vision in blue and white, the gold embroidery of her regal vestments gleaming in the torchlight. Her eyes met Kotallo's and for a moment, the dungeon seemed to fade away.

"Aloy," he murmured, reaching for her as she came closer. "What brings you here?"

She blinked at him, baffled.

"I could ask you the same thing," the Chieftess huffed, her voice cool and distant, avoiding his touch. She looked at Kotallo, concern etched on her face. "Why are you here? You should be preparing with the others."

"I am your Marshal," Kotallo said, ever so sincere in his devotion. "I go where you most need me to go."

Gray eyes flickered back and forth, studying the two of them keenly. And then Red Teeth sighed, before he smiled with a cruel twist of his lips.

"I never thought royalty would suit you quite this well," he said, his voice full of false warmth. "My fire. It's been too long."

Aloy's eyes hardened, and she looked at the prisoner with nothing but hate. "Not for me it isn't. And stop calling me that. I am not your anything"

"You're still as cruel as the day we met. I see… " the Carja crooned. "How I've missed you." He said, reaching through the bars to wrap his vile fingers around her arm. "Very well. How should I address you? To which name do you smile for now?"

Kotallo stepped forward in the same instant the Aloy recoiled. He grasped Nil's wrist and twisted his arm, snarling a fierce warning as he pulled and crushed him against the rusted metal bars.

"Touch her, and I'll cut off your hands."

"Ah. Is that how you lost yours?" Nil chuckled, cheeks scrunched by the rails of his prison cell. "This one doesn't like me very much," he teased with malignant mirth. "I think he's jealous of our shared history." He whispered loudly, earning him another vicious tug.

"That's enough." The Chieftess commanded, stone-faced and determined. She stepped beyond Kotallo's shadow and moved closer to the jail, green eyes flaring bright. "You wanted to see me? I'm right here. Now quit playing your games or I'll have my Marshal take the key to your cell and throw it to the desert for good."

Kotallo smirked, relishing the thought. How he wished she would give the command and he would gladly follow. But even he knew that Aloy could never be as heartless as she wished to be, even if he had never seen her look as chillingly ruthless, as the way she did now.

A small shiver spread through the Marshal's spine from the wickedness in her eyes alone. And the prisoner seemed to have felt the same, as his goading smile drooped and along with the derisive air of confidence that he wore.

"All I want is for us to have a civil conversation. Privately." Red Teeth breathed, almost humble and contrite. "Then you can do with my life as you wish."

Kotallo scoffed. "You are in no position to be making demands."

Earnest were his words and yet she only seemed more displeased, her veridian eyes widening before the light within it dimmed and dulled once more.

"Leave us," she commanded, almost tenderly if it weren't so cold. She acted no more than a stranger to him, despite her pleading words. "I wish to speak with Nil, alone."

Red Teeth. Nil. It didn't matter which name he went by. Kotallo knew enough to be certain where his place ought to be:

Standing right in between the danger and the doomed.

If only she would allow him.

"As you wish, Chieftess," he answered with gritted teeth, all too formal in even the way he crossed his fist over his thumping chest.

The rest guards followed Kotallo's deliberate strides, leaving Aloy and Nil alone to speak. He couldn't help but give Nil a scathing look and a silent warning when the prisoner winked with a victorious smirk. The Marshal however, hesitated, glancing back at Aloy before finally agreeing to his her request.

Or so they thought.

It's times like these when Kotallo truly wished he were a better man. For a better man would have kept on going as his heavy feet trudged along the sandstone path towards the exit. At the very least; a good soldier would never disobey a superior's orders, whereas a better man would simply give his beloved the privacy she desired.

If only he were a paragon of truth and duty, then he would have walked through the cracked wooden door and served his Chieftess in better ways.

But Kotallo had never been the most obedient soldier. And his honor had long been forfeit many a time ago.

No. He was no good man at all.

He was simply a man. One who would protect what was his to keep safe, no matter the cost of how it stained the soul.

And so, the well-meaning Marshal hid behind the distant end of the hallway where he could quietly watch and listen, still close enough to guard Aloy just in case he heard any sign of trouble and far enough that he would not be found out for his defiance. He peered through the corner, lurking beneath the shadows, listening intently with keen eyes, sharp ears and bated breaths.

Aloy stood in the middle of the hollow chamber, her eyes cold and distant as she regarded Nil. The room was filled with torn tapestries and broken down furnishings, the torchlight streaming through the rusted prison bars, casting a muted glow against the stark copper-stained stones.

"You broke your word to me," Aloy said, her voice cold and accusing.

Nil hung his head, a hint of remorse in his eyes. His entire demeanor had softened in their lonesome, speaking with the low murmur of a lover.

"I had no choice. It was my love for you that compelled me to come."

"Love?" Aloy spat, her pitch octaves higher. "What would you know about love? "

Nil looked up at her with utmost repentance. "Enough to be certain that our time apart has done nothing to dampen the fire I keep for you." He reached for her palm, in search of reciprocation or a semblance of warmth within the huntress' hardened gaze. "Have you truly stopped burning for me as well? Have you truly moved on from us?"

It took all of Kotallo's self-preservation not to come stomping forward at his attempt to reconnect. And yet, he could only hold his breath as Aloy allowed his touch.

"You think I can move on from what you did to me?" Aloy hissed. "There is no moving on. You made quite sure of that."

Nil knelt down before her, utterly desperate, unwilling to let go of her hand.

"How many times must I apologize to you for what happened then? If I could find a way to fix this, you know I would. Yet all I can do is beg for your forgiveness."

"Then keep begging," Aloy yanked her hand as she snarled; the rage she wore so beautifully, as regal as it was righteous. "Beg in every language there is. Even then I won't forgive you."

Nil crept closer to her, his voice insistent. "It was an accident, Aloy. You have to accept that sooner or later."

Aloy froze. She twisted around, checking for any watchful eyes nearby. Kotallo pressed himself closer against the wall, hoping to remain undetected, grimacing as the wind howled from outside, making the parted door creak loudly. His ears rang where he stood paralyzed, until the silence was once again filled with Aloy's quiet seething.

She stepped closer to his barred cell, hissing with pure venom from a secret untold.

"Don't you dare tell me anything about that night was an accident! You chose to lie to me. You chose to betray me. I'm the one you left with no choice when you decided to attack the innocent."

"They were bandits, Aloy."

"They were children!" She snapped, her shout echoing and filling the void of the empty halls. "Children who inherited their parent's wars without a choice! They didn't know what cause they were fighting for! And they definitely didn't do any crime worth dying for!"

"There are no innocents in this world, Aloy. We are all born out of blood," Nil retorted, entirely unperturbed. "Besides, what else would you have me do? What else could I have done differently?

They were going to kill you. I did the only thing I could do to keep you safe. You and our—"

"Don't!" Aloy warned in a forbidding scream, torn and tattered and unlike any way Kotallo has ever heard the fiery woman speak before. "Just… Don't." She quivered, stepping backwards before folding her arms over her stomach like a shield.

She filled her lungs with a breathful of air, steadying herself with a shaky sigh and a stray palm to the pendant above her ribs. And when at last, she found the calm to speak, Aloy rose her head, her firm.

"You didn't come here just to reminisce, and I didn't come here to make peace. I want to know why you suddenly decided to break our agreement when you were doing just fine staying out of my sight. "

Nil's smile faltered, but he pressed on, an eerie grimness set on his face.

"There is a war coming your way, my fire. Enemies more powerful than any you've ever faced before. There are horrors afoot and monsters beyond comprehension, brewing across the sands. And I intend on taking you as far away from this doomed place as possible and saving your life. "

The huntress paused, her curiosity getting the better of her. "What do you know? What did you see?"

He smirked, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "There's my Aloy. It's good to see that the prospect of battle still excites you as it did before."

"Stop wasting my time and speak plainly," the huntress snapped impatiently. "Otherwise, I'm leaving."

"Not so fast, my love. All things come with a price and my information does not come for free." The grey-eyed man snickered with devilish charm. "If you want to know what I've uncovered, you'll have to pay the cost."

"You owe me everything and you have the nerve to demand a price?" The huntress sneered, unnerved by the man's audacity. "What else could you possibly want from me?"

"A kiss." Nil clarified. "One kiss to remember you by is all I ask, and I will tell you everything I know."

Aloy froze, features taut and torn.

Kotallo's heart thundered, deafening him from all else as he listened to Nil's nefarious proposition. He could see the battle raging on Aloy's face; the inner turmoil between her duty to her people and her unwavering loyalty to whom she loved. And he wondered, which among the two she would choose to uphold.

He crept closer, sticking to the shadows, torn and indecisive, until his foot caught on a loose stone and he stumbled forward, his balance faltering. Yet as he teetered on the brink of crashing down and giving himself away, a strong hand grabbed hold of him from behind, pulling him back and keeping him steady.

Kotallo whirled around, shocked to see his fellow Marshal, standing behind him.

Ivvira.

With a fearful glare, she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling him to keep quiet. He nodded, recentering his footing while the two of them both tiptoed closer, intent on not missing a single second of the unprivate conversation.

Kotallo's wondered how long Ivvira had been there, lurking behind him like a ghost. The woman was well renowned for her stealth and subtlety— so much so that most warriors have likened her to a phantom. And still he couldn't help but feel impressed by her sudden appearance, hardly noticing when the wooden door went from slightly ajar to cracked wide open, where she must have slipped through unnoticed.

Ivvira leaned in close to whisper, "We really shouldn't be here."

"Tell that to Hekarro." Kotallo grumbled in response, knowing that she was solely beholden to her duty as the Chief's eyes and ears.

Ivvira flushed, biting her lip. "I've tried. Believe me. Now shush if you don't want the Chieftess to catch on and exile us all."

He knew he was risking everything by being here, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. At least... Not until he knew what his beloved's decision would be.

Before they could talk again, Aloy spoke from afar, coming closer to Nil.

"One kiss and you'll tell me everything you know?" she asked, truly considering his offer.

Nil grinned, happy and victorious. "Just the one," he said, "unless you ask for more."

Kotallo's heart roared within his hollowed out chest, thundering in protest as it was squeezed in a vice when Aloy stepped closer to Nil, their lips inches away from touching. He held his breath, bracing himself for the agony he knew was coming. An agony he should be far used to by now and yet still so exquisite each time it lashed against his ribs. From beside him, Ivvira squeezed his shoulder, keeping him anchored and steady lest he crumble to his knees and fall.

He will endure.

He must.

After all, what was one kiss compared to all the splendid nights they've shared together?

What was one kiss compared to the many glorious sighs that have crossed between their lips?

If he could stand to share her heart with Hekarro and he yet withstood the plummet, then surely this too, would not shatter him.

And if he survived the piercing knife of her marriage to another, then surely, this would not kill him either.

Aloy closed her eyes, stepping closer.

And then just when their lips were about to join— like nectar to poison— the hateful huntress recoiled and spat right at Nil's face.

She glared at him with revulsion, wiping her bottom lip before stepping away with the iciest leer of loathing.

"I ran out of kisses for you when you killed the child inside of me,"Aloy snarled. "But I'll make sure to save one for when I finally find the strength to repay the favor and kill you."

Ivvira gasped behind Kotallo, eyes rounder than the moon as she cupped her mouth aghast. She looked at him with fear, regarding him with caution as if he were a blast bomb ticking.

He glanced back at her, confused, and the seconds creeped by. Aloy's words echoed in his mind on a loop, sinking deeper and deeper into him. The more he understood, the slower time went, up until it froze to a standstill.

"So tell me, Kotallo, what you think I'm supposed to do? What more can I give? What more can I lose? Because I have sacrificed everything else; everything I've got. And there's nothing else left of me but this to give!" (Ch3)

"Some scars run deeper than you think, Kotallo. Some wounds, more painful than even you can ever know." (Ch10)

"It's silly, isn't it? Being sad for something that never was."(Ch14)

"The only type of secrets I keep are the darkest kind. Your poor heart might not be able to take it… and then whatever will I do?"(Ch14)

"I've given so many bits and pieces of me that sometimes I even wonder if I'm real anymore."(Ch19)

"It feels like no amount of love in the world would ever be enough to make up for what I lost… What was taken from me."(Ch21)

Every moment shared, every word exchanged, every small flicker of ache and loss that he noticed flickering beneath the green of her eyes… all of it came together with the click of toppling bricks perfectly aligned. Everything that he noticed and yet never quite truly understood, now barraged down on him with the force of a malevolent maelstrom. And in the same moment when Ivvira clamped down on his shoulder and shook her head, begging him not to give in to his fury...

So did Kotallo explode.

His mind reeled in a whirlwind of emotions he came dashing forward, his feet coming to life on their own. Rage and betrayal surged through him like a tempest, ringing in his ears and bittering his tongue. His skin glowed with violet lights, spreading from his raucously beating heart into a web of corruption all throughout his body.

Aloy's screams echoed across the hall; her skin turning pale the moment grieving green met with amaranthine rage. And yet her pleas seemed distant even to him, as if they were coming from another world entirely; from a realm where tears were the sole panacea to pain and grief was carried in silence. A realm in which he refused to belong.

With the strength of a berserker, Kotallo reached out and grabbed Nil through the bars of his cell, his grip strong and unyielding. He blazed bright with fury as he glared at Nil, lifting him by the neck with one arm alone, squeezing over the bruises that he had already placed there hours before.

"What babe does she speak of ?" The corrupted Marshal snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Nil's eyes widened in fear as he looked at Kotallo's glowing skin. "So that's how you bested me. You're one of them," he gasped, struggling for breath.

Aloy wrapped her arms around his waist, doing her best to pull him from behind. But he was too strong. Too furious. Too corrupted.

"Kotallo, please, stop," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face in rivers of sorrow. Her voice was laced with desperation, but the Marshal could not hear it, consumed by his own loathing.

Kotallo shrugged her off, too far beyond reason.

"What child were you talking about?" he demanded, squeezing Nil's neck harder.

Silence hung in the air, heavy like a suffocating blanket. From behind him Aloy gasped and trembled and yet did not answer, suddenly frozen with fear. She averted her gaze quickly, looking at Nil with a fretful despair, instead of facing Kotallo,

And then Nil finally spoke.

"Our child," he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Aloy's and mine."

Nil crumpled down the floor as Kotallo shoved him, heaving and coughing while he nursed his throat. The Marshal turned around to face his beloved, entirely disheveled and trembling head to toe.

"You have a child?" he asked, his voice barely audible as if every word was being wrenched out of him with a physical force.

Aloy swallowed, a waterfall of tears streaming down her sallow face.

"Had," she corrected him, her features contorted with the grimace of unending sorrow.

The word hung in the air like a death knell, and Kotallo could feel the weight of it crushing him. And when her palm drifted to the scar she loathed and hid underneath her armor, his lungs seized and the lights within him grew brighter than ever before.

"What… what happened?"

Aloy's lips tightened in a thin line, refusing to speak. A faint fleeting look of fear passed through her gaze, and she glanced at the Nil behind him, hard and heartbroken.

"I happened." Nil rasped, almost solemn in his confession. "I killed it before it could take breath."

And that was all the answer Kotallo needed before he lost all control.

He turned back to Nil's cell and unlatched it quickly, leaving it ajar. He stalked inside the stone prison, each step filled with purpose.

"What did you do?" Kotallo snarled, shoulders squared up as he picked Nil from the floor by the lapel.

Nil chuckled, unperturbed by his fury.

"Well you see, when a man and a woman fuck each oth—"

In a quick flurry of motions, Kotallo punched Nil across the jaw, making his head bounce into the wall, sending him crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. And when the Carja came falling down, he simply picked him up just to ruthlessly strike him again.

"What did you do to her?!" He spat, livid as he ever was. His muscles bulged with each strike, his knuckles cracking and bleeding shimmering purple as they connected again and again with Nil's flesh.

"I kept her alive," Nil growled, just before tackling him to the ground. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He threw punches of his own, equally as feral, but the Marshal proved far too indomitable; his unbridled fury, aided by the corruption that flowed through his veins like a dark and sinister force.

"Kotallo! Stop this please!" Aloy screamed, coming inside the cell along with Ivvira who had somehow chased after him some time in the middle of all the madness. "I said stop!" She screamed with utmost despair, her and Ivvira both trying to pull the two tussling men to no avail; the both of them a force to be reckoned with.

Oh, if there was ever anyone's command that the Marshal deemed absolute and above all, it would be hers and hers alone.

But how does one halt lightning from striking halfway across the sky? How could a blazing fire cease burning until all has been scorched into dust and ash?

He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Not now when he finally understood her hatred for the man whose ghost still haunted her each passing day. Not now when he finally understood the extent of Nil's crimes against her, filling her— and now him— with so much brimming hate.

And so, Kotallo released a volley of his rage, wild and feral in every punishment he doled out until Nil was beaten within an inch of his death, bleeding in a puddle of cracked bones and split flesh. In the chaos, Ivvira was shoved and collided against the prison bars, the metal clanking loudly as she crumpled to the ground. And when he winded up a punishing strike once more, Nil hid behind Aloy, just for the Marshal to shove her to the ground before punishing the Carja harder for his audacity.

Suddenly, the glint of a dagger shone from the periphery of his sight, up until it was pressed against his heart.

His dagger.

Taken from his possession by the very woman he wielded the sharpened blade for.

"His life is not yours to take," Aloy shook before him, pressing his own weapon closer to his violent pulse. "Now stand down, Marshal. That is an order." She rasped, shivering and determined all the same.

"The Chieftess gave a command, Kotallo," Ivvira whispered, kneeling down to aid the prisoner as he recovered from his daze. "Please. Let's not disappoint her any further. Can't you see what you're doing to her?"

The rage in Kotallo's eyes dissipated, dying down with every blink. With sudden clarity, he dared glance back at Aloy and the devastation in her eyes.

He stepped closer to her to apologize, but she stepped back, her hand still gripping the dagger tightly.

"Settalah— I—"

"Don't," she hissed, pressing the blade closer . "I don't want your pity. I just want you to go."

"This isn't pity, Aloy," he rasped. "This is just… grief."

"My grief. Not yours." she quaked, eyes darkening. "My justice to give. Not yours."

"It needn't be." He hummed, coming closer, much to Aloy's sharp protest. "I could—"

"I think you've done quite enough," she snapped, weeping hot angry tears. "But until I say otherwise, Nil's death is no one else's but mine. Now, leave. Before I have you locked up in a cell too."

If only Kotallo were a more obedient soldier, then he would have knelt before her and surrendered. Give her an apology and find the strength to go.

But before her crimson fury, he was nothing more than a man who blazed.

And so he took his dagger by the hand, wrenching the sharpened blade with his hand without a care for how it bled. Violet dripped from his palm down to his wrist, until it hissed and carved craters the moment it's dropped touched the crimson stone.

"If it's justice you want, then keep my blade and call it yours ," he uttered, unfaltering. "But if it's his death you want, then take my rage and I will be your executioner."

"You don't know what I want," Aloy shook, her body shaking with visceral pain as she finally lowered the knife. "You don't know anything."

"He hurt you. That's all I need to know."

Suddenly, a chilling laughter pervaded the space between them, as Nil pushed himself off the floor, nose bloodied and lips split. And though his gait was unsteady and Ivvira's spear was pointed cautiously to his side, the battered Carja could not stand any taller.

He grinned before them, shifting back into the devious man Kotallo recognized him to be. A chilling chuckle creeped through the cavern, and the sighing prisoner bared his crimson-stained teeth.

"So you do love her," he wryly smiled, eyes gleaming with a delicious revelation. "And you, my fire, love him." He laughed even louder.

Kotallo didn't think Aloy could get any paler, but here she stood, pallid as death itself. "No. I don't," she denied too quickly, stepping away from the Marshal's reach. And her denial alone was more punishment than the Marshal could endure.

Nil smirked, "Don't deny it, Aloy. I am no stranger to that look in your eyes. " he said. "And I know you too well to be fooled by your lies."

Veridian eyes glimmered with a sparkle, before dying down into cold lightless orbs. And then Aloy sighed, took Kotallo's dagger and held its pointed tip against Nil's throat.

"I owe you no explanation for anything I do." She smiled, stepping closer, knife unmoving from its spot. "Who I love. Who I kiss. Who I fuck."

Nil's smile faltered, twitching into a quick grimace but he dare not swallow lest the sharpened blade cut.

"The only reason you are still sucking air right now, is because of my word. My mercy. So how about a simple 'thank you' instead?" Aloy hummed with an innocence, far unmatched to her seething rage.

"You've changed." He murmured lovingly.

"And you haven't," she replied coldly.

"Oh, but how wrong you are, my fire." Nil smiled, the glint in his eyes as chilling as the darkness pervading in hers. "I've changed quite a lot in our time apart…

Though I must admit, when I first heard the other riders speak of a flame-haired outlander set to marry the Chief and become their Chieftess, I thought surely they didn't mean my Aloy.

How could you possibly accept a stranger's proposal, when you never once entertained any of mine?

Better yet, how could you give your heart so easily to the greatest killer the west has ever known, when you've always despised my pursuit of becoming the greatest hunter in the east?"

Aloy stood silent, a vision of light and stone, a statue bearing life. And yet, she said nothing.

"But now, I finally understand." Nil chuckled, satisfied. "It is for power that you marry Hekarro, but it is your love for the maimed Marshal that compels you to stay. Oh, what a relief."

"Relief?" Aloy hummed with a curious look, head tilted with a lopsided grin at how utterly mistaken he was.

Nil nodded. "It is much easier to sever love. Especially when it is doomed from the start." He chuckled.

Her smile slowly faded and Kotallo tilted his head in a warning, eyes lit with violet fire . "Is that a threat?" he growled, stomping forward, just to be halted by Aloy's outstretched arm.

"See what I mean? There's no hope for this one." Nil sneered, eyeing the Marshal from head to toe with deep satisfaction, glee etched beneath his blood and bruises. "And to think that I rode through the ends of the desert for weeks on end, hoping I won't be too late to rescue you from the Hollows seeking your death.

All that work… Just to find that you already share your bed with the very danger I am trying to protect you from.

Oh, Aloy. There really is no saving you, is there?"

"What army? What Hollows?" The huntress hissed, her breath shaky underneath her frown.

Nil chewed on his lip with smug glee, relishing her sudden uncertainty before he spoke. Through split lips and bleeding teeth, he smiled, all his attention directed to Aloy and away from the Marshal's glare.

"There is an army of madmen hiding in the desert; men with lights in their blood, same as his. They call themselves The Hallowed Ones, but my friends simply call them Hollows. We found that the name fits them much better."

Aloy lowered the blade, her mind racing with fear and confusion. "How do you know this?"

Nil continued, his voice growing more urgent. "They were pretty hard to miss, considering the size of their army. Always saw their lights from afar whenever we would ride at night. Some of us got curious and never returned. Some of us steered clear of it and whatever trouble it brought. And some of us wondered what a conquest it would be to join their ranks.

"So? Which one of them are you?" Aloy snapped impatiently, though from the look in her face, she already knew the answer.

"I stand alone. As always," Nil sighed. "The call of the hunt came to me, in the form of your name and your death, whispered like a wish on a Hallowed Man's lips. A call that I happily obliged… And guess what I discovered?"

The huntress didn't speak as Nil came closer and whispered words only she would hear. The Marshal's eyes narrowed with frustration, barely able to read his lips as it moved over her ear.

"A hooded man offered… gave strength like no other… Once the poison… doomed to die."

She stumbled backwards, green eyes glowing with trepidation as she struggled to speak through her heaving lungs.

"You're lying," Aloy snapped, trembling.

"It's true," Nil hummed pitifully. "I swear it on our child's grave."

She slapped him then and there, breathtaking in the outrage she wore over her shoulders like a shroud.

"How dare you," she shook, seething through gritted teeth. "How fucking dare you."

"Your hatred for me will not change the truth," Red Teeth sighed, spitting blood on the floor. "Death is coming for this place, Aloy. And I intend to save you from it no matter the cost." He chuckled darkly, smiling through his crimson teeth.

"So how about a 'thank you', instead?"

"Please," Aloy scoffed without mercy. "Am I supposed to believe that you came here with noble intentions? Since when have you ever done anything for anyone other than yourself? "

A flash of hurt played by Nil's features, warming his otherwise cold and deadened eyes, if only for a fraction of a second. And when he whispered, "Ever since the day I met you," even Kotallo knew to recognize a liar's honest words.

If only Aloy did too.

Either she knew better, or she knew nothing at all. But where the Marshal expected to find mercy, he found cruel hate instead.

"Lies," she whispered. "Always with the lies."

Aloy's eyes hardened. With the point of a finger, both Marshals left the cell, guarding her while she slowly walked away. With another snap, they locked its bars. With an outstretched palm, she traded Kotallo's dagger for the key in his hand. And with a look devoid of all emotion, she faced Nil once again.

"The Aloy you once knew would have believed you, but that girl died a long time ago." The pain glistening in her eyes was visceral, and yet even brighter was her rage. "I know better now. You didn't come here for me. You came here looking for just another excuse to kill."

"You know I can never resist a good battle, Aloy," Nil conceded. "But that doesn't mean that I didn't come here to kill for you."

She glanced at him with utter disappointment, features set with the gleam of a made decision. With a defeated sigh, the huntress shook her head, clutching the key to his prison tighter in her pale, white fist.

"I had hoped to set you free… but I can't trust you to leave without any trouble… Can I?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"The only way I'm leaving this place is with you." Nil concurred.

"The. I guess you won't be leaving this place after all," the Cheiftess decreed, her words as impregnable as steel. She placed the key on the floor, taunting him just an inch too far away from his reach.

"Thank you," Aloy smiled, "for saving me the trouble and reminding me of every painful lesson I've ever learned during our time together."

Nil's grin faded, eyeing freedom's promise beyond his grasp. "All lessons are painful when it comes to love and war." He murmured cooly.

"And yet none of them compare to the one you taught of hope."

All souls within the decrepit hallway stood frozen, each one of them warily watching as Aloy took a loose slab of rock from the crumbling walls. She grinned at Nil tearfully, and with an eerie calm, smashed the key once, twice, three times, before it was mangled beyond recognition. Satisfied, Aloy wiped the sweat of her fevered brows and the tears from her cheeks, sniffing while she kicked the destroyed key towards Nil's direction.

"This time, I'll do the teaching," She smiled bitterly, signaling her leave.

Nil grabbed the crooked metal greedily, useless as it was to him.

"If you stay here then you might as well surrender. Your only hope lies with me," he warned, clasping her hand with his bloody palms. "Come with me to Meridian, Aloy. Let us return home and leave this forsaken place before it swallows us with it."

"I am home. " Aloy replied, yanking her hand before walking away. "And I don't plan on relying on hope or surrendering. I plan on fighting for my people and my kingdom. Or die trying to save it."

"You will not win this battle, no matter how glorious it may be," Nil warned, holding the mangled key precious in his palm.

"Then so be it," The Chieftess whispered in declaration, her hollow voice echoing through the hall. "It's almost a shame that you'll miss it. I was looking forward to showing you who greatest killer in the east and west really is."

"No prison can hold me forever, Aloy. Wherever you go, I'll be sure to follow," He promised, winking at Kotallo as he gave him one last loathing glare before following his beloved's footsteps.

"So will I," Kotallo growled, twirling his golden blade around his lone hand. He clicked his tongue towards Nil's swollen eye and busted nose, gloating in a low cocky brogue. "I hope you heal better than you fight. I won't show you any mercy, next time."

"Funny, I was just about to say the same thing."

With a cocky smirk, he grabbed Kotallo's lone hand by the wrist and pulled him closer, whispering to him when both Aloy and Ivvira were beyond the ear's reach.

"Would you like to know why my friends and I call the poisoned men 'Hollows'? Aren't you just the least bit curious at all?"

Kotallo paused, gritting his teeth as he shrugged off the man's vile touch. The lights inside him burned, radiating from his heart all the way to his very fingertips.

"Ah… I'm guessing you already have an inkling why." He snickered, the spark of a challenge bright in his cold grey eyes as he watched the twitch in Kotallo's arm. "You don't have much time left, I'm afraid. There is no winning the war against it."

Kotallo's stomach twisted in gnarled knots, a teeming vibration never more palpable under his flesh and skin. "I'm not the kind to accept defeat so easily. You will know this about me in time."

Nil pulled him closer. Putrid breath brushing against his ear. "Oh, I know what you really are. The question is… do you?"

It was his turn to tread closer then, returning Red Teeth's goading grin with a sinister smile of his own. Then with the gravest tone, corrupted Marshal whispered, his amethyst lights simmering underneath amber fire.

"I am the War."

---

Aloy sat dazed in the middle of the Chaplain's chambers, the weight of the world heavy upon her shoulders. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, the heady aroma overwhelming her senses, cloying, heavy, and suffocating. Large as the hut was, the walls closed in on her, trapping her within, The tapestries all around, adorned with the richest hues of vibrant red and gold mocked her with their cheerfulness, a stark contrast to the gray despair she kept hidden within.

A pair of handmaidens bustled all around her, their movements graceful and fluid as they dressed her in the sacred garb she had earned from the Lowland trials. And overseeing every detail of her new pattern of desert paints was Anarra, standing in as Jettaka's proxy as an olive branch of peace.

And she was doing a wonderful job at it, regardless of her impaired sight. She used her hands to see what her eyes couldn't, and compensated for her blurred vision by using the most vibrant pigments Aloy had ever worn. And by the time that the paint had dried upon her sun-dappled skin, Aloy stood near unrecognizable; a painted mirage of war and purpose; sacrifice and loss.

Even in her foul simmering, Aloy could not help but admire the beauty of the unfinished armor clasped around her bodice; the cuirass, gauntlets and pauldron all made of polished steel and Greenshine, giving it a mysterious black sheen that shifted verdant depending on the angle of the light. Each detail of it was astounding, finished with intricate engravings of sacred glyphs and blessings from the jungles; Some old words discernible and familiar, the others, still quite new and indistinguishable to her unlearned tongue. She couldn't help but secretly wonder what the full armor would look like once completed, but for now, the ornate skirting would have to do, teasing what the set would look like once she earned more parts from the desert trials.

"Your beauty is unmatched, my lady," said one of the handmaidens as she braided Aloy's hair to her liking, adding more gilded beads and ornaments Hekarro had the blacksmiths create just for her.

"Indeed," Anarra agreed, "There is no other bride in the world that compares to you. Surely, our Chief must be the luckiest man ever born."

Aloy offered a weak smile in gratitude, trying to ignore the drop in her stomach as she accidentally met with the pair of amber eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

There he was.

The current bane of her existence and steadfast source of strength. Sitting by a shadowed corner, nursing his bloodied palm and knuckles as he kept a careful watch over her.

If only she could face him now.

"Beautiful," he murmured in agreement, smiling softly. And yet his gentleness only made her quiet anguish all the worse.

From behind her, Navvan zoomed around the room with frantic excitement, asking her endless questions about the trials to come.

"What kind of monsters will you fight, Chieftess?"

"I don't know yet." Aloy replied.

"Are you sure you're ready?

"I don't know."

"Why are you so quiet? Are you worried?

"I… I don't know…"

"Are you scared you're going to die?"

"I… I don't…"

"Amma told me that almost everyone that failed the Ten Acts died in the desert trials but —"

"Navvan! What did I say about bothering the Champion?" His mother scolded, cupping his mouth before he could say another word. "Go sit next to Marshal Kotallo and reflect upon your words." She scowled, pointing to the furthest edge of the room.

"Aww, amma. But I was just trying to—"

"That's enough from you. Now sit still and be quiet."

The young boy trudged along the path to Kotallo, joining him in the creaking bench of what now was effectively deemed the corner of shame. The Marshal and the child looked at each other, sympathetic to each other's plight. Yet any attempt they made to speak was quickly squashed down by one of Anarra's most intimidating glares.

"Forgive him, please. He takes after his father just a bit too much for my liking," the clan advisor ruefully smiled. "Proper manners are not in their nature."

"It's alright…." Aloy replied, "Really. I don't mind the distraction."

She would have been almost convincing, if it weren't for the weakness in her voice. Yet even the blind knew the sound of despair too well to ignore it, let alone pretend that all was fine.

Anarra sighed, giving stern instructions to the handmaidens to fetch her some boiling water and a clay mug while she finished the rest of Aloy's braids. And when they returned with the materials as requested, the blind woman gratefully received it, before taking a few herbs in her pouch and steeping it in the vessel until it steamed over with a mystical fragrance unlike no other.

Anarra took the huntress' shaking hands and offered her the tea, holding the piping hot jar to her with kind concern. "Please, my lady, it will calm your nerves," Anarra insisted when Aloy hesitated to receive the strange concoction.

"What is it?" She couldn't help but ask, eyeing the liquid's purple hue.

"Crimson blooms to help with your body's aches. Skyblooms to help with troubles of the mind." Anarra hummed, her clouded eyes heavy with the glaze of melancholy. "It has always given me great comfort during difficult times. I have no doubts it will help you as well."

Aloy couldn't help but follow Anarra's smile as the woman glanced back at Kotallo, yet when she looked upon his reflection, he had already been gazing back at her. Only then did she reach for the tea, receiving it gratefully.

"I guess a little won't hurt," the huntress croaked, sniffing the strange and brand new aroma. "Thank you."

The tea itself is a deep, dark brew, thick with the scent of the herbs and spices that Anarra had used to brew it. Fragrant steam rose from the cup, filling her nostrils with the scent of desert flowers and spices. She tried to drink it all, hoping it would calm her nerves and ease her heavy heart, but each bitter sip was a battle; a struggle to swallow it down past the knot in her throat. And though the warmth of the liquid brought its promised comfort, it did very little to chase away the chill that had settled in her bones as Nil's whispered warning echoed through her mind.

"We were camping through the Sea of Sands when a hooded man came to us in the last hours of the night. He offered a potion, promising it would give strength like no other. Everyone took it faster than they could toss their shards. And not a few weeks later, every last one of them either lost their minds to the poison, or dropped dead like flies.

It's only a matter of time before your Marshal does one or the other. There is nothing left for you here, my fire. Him and everyone else in this tribe is already doomed to die."

The promises of death whispered echoes in her ear. Her heart hung heavy with doubt, wondering how much truth lingered among Nil's certain lies.

She couldn't help but glance at Kotallo in the reflection, and the concern etched on his face. Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, Aloy tore her eyes away. There were so many questions that she wanted to ask him, so many worries she needed assuaged when it came to him and the state of his Corruption. But it was more difficult than it ought to be when he had a myriad of questions of his own, waiting for her… None of which she was prepared to face.

And so, all that Aloy could do in the moment is stew in her uncertainty, and in her irrevocable faith in Kotallo and his promises.

The clay jar rattled in her hand as Aloy tried to steady herself, the tea sloshing over the sides as she fought to keep her anxieties in check. Lost in her thoughts, she almost jumped in her seat when Anarra yelped right behind her, slipping in a small puddle of blood dripping from Kotallo's bleeding hand. Aloy stood in alarm, watching as Kotallo caught Anarra just in time before her head hit the floor.

The half-blind woman stuttered as she clumsily stood to correct herself, grabbing Kotallo by his lone arm for support. But when her palms drifted to the bruises and blood from his wounded fist, Anarra held him tighter, gasping in fright.

"By the Ten! What on earth happened to your hand?"

Kotallo cleared his throat, turning away from Aloy's direction. He then looked up at Anarra with doting eyes and consoled her, saying "No need to worry. It will heal in time." He flexed his fingers, wincing as he tested it. "The Corruption is simply taking a while longer to mend my flesh."

Anarra scoffed, skeptical at his half-baked excuse. She felt around his hand, checking for unseen injury, and soon enough, Kotallo grunted the moment she touched a tender spot.

"Oh, 'Tallo! You know better than anyone not to depend on the empty promises of some poison. This should be tended to by a healer. Properly," she scolded like a mother hen. "I'm certain you've cracked a bone or two, and there is surely no sorcery that can just magically heal that."

Kotallo scowled. But before he could reply, Navvan quickly came to his defense. "Amma! Marshal Kotallo doesn't need anyone's help. Don't you know anything? A true warrior must always endure."

Kotallo looked at the boy with proud approval, straightening his back as he patted Navvan's head with a smirk. "So you do listen afterall."

"Course I listen," Navvan proudly declared. "I just forget the boring bits."

Anarra, on the other hand, simply clicked her tongue in disdain "No, don't you listen to him. Listen to your mother. It is pointless to endure when there's a better alternative to suffering." She straightened herself, pulling Kotallo by the arm until he was forced to stand.

"Come with me. If you don't want to see the healers then at least let me put a salve on it to help with the pain. I have some herbs ready for harvesting in my garden that we can make into a poultice for wrappings."

Kotallo shook his head in refusal.

"I'd rather not leave my station. My place is here, guarding Aloy."

Anarra rolled her hazy eyes, pouting, "The Champion doesn't need you to guard her from anything. The Champion hardly needs you for anything at all. Besides, what good will you do in the trials if you're already compromised from the start?"

"I am not compromised," the Marshal insisted, simmering with lights.

She pulled him again, more insistently this time. "Can you stop being so stubborn and let someone take care of you for a change? For someone with only one hand left, you'd think you'd be more mindful of it."

The Marshal stiffened and gritted his teeth, pulling his arm from her hold. "I said I'm fine." He snapped brashly, flickers of light sparking under his skin. It glowed brightest on the cracks around his knuckles, slowly stitching his skin together. "And I have no need for a reminder of how many limbs I have left."

"Are you certain, because it sure looks like you do," Anarra quipped, literally blind to the tell-tale signs of his rage. "Otherwise, you'd know that people like us are only as good to the tribe as our use to it, and you're not going to be of any use to anyone with an injured arm."

Navvan hopped over the bench and gave Kotallo's armor a small tug. "You might as well just give up. There's no winning against her when she gets like this," he sighed, embarrassed by his mother's tenacity.

The lights dimmed in his veins, and yet it didn't die completely. At least not until Aloy spoke, unable to face him directly but able to gaze upon him through the polished steel of the mirror.

"You should go," she whispered through gold painted lips, nails digging into the flesh of her patterned fist. "I need you to be at your best in the next trial." She hid her face from him when she softly added, "And I need you to be alright."

The Marshal hesitated, and gazed at her with concern. "Will you be alright?"

She shook her head, still avoiding eye contact. "I'm fine. And I'll be less worried if you let Anarra take care of your hand."

"See? At least the Savior has more sense in her than you do. Now come along. The trial will be starting in a few minutes." The clan advisor clapped, ushering the handmaidens to leave while grabbing hold of her son. "I'll have him in fighting form in no time, Champion. You have my word."

Aloy could only smile weakly in reply. "I'm trusting you with his life," she murmured, half-joking. "So take good care of my Marshal, please."

"It will be my pleasure." The other woman smiled.

Kotallo sighed in defeat, rubbing his face in frustration as the two women ganged up on his better sensibilities. He walked towards the Chieftess in all her beatified attire, wrapped his arm around her waist from behind and faced the mirror, peering at her through their reflections. And when Aloy shied away from his quiet study, Kotallo reached out and brushed a strand of crimson hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"If it will help ease some of your troubles then I will go."

She gave a small nod, finally meeting his gaze. "It will. I… I find it hard to think when I'm worried about you." She said, squeezing his hand as she swayed in his hold.

"Then I shall leave you to your thinking."

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, smearing the paint with his lips. And then he leaned against her brows, gentler in his caress than she deserved and whispered, solely for Aloy's ears.

"I'm sorry for losing control earlier, settalah. It will not happen again."

His lips pressed against Aloy's cheek, and somewhere inside the room, Anarra gasped, covering her chuckling— and very unsurprised— son's gaze. Yet Aloy couldn't find it in herself to care for all other prying eyes when she drowned in the sea of this man's undeserved mercy, so much so that she would surely cry or die.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," She whispered, misty eyed and flushed.

"When have I ever?" Kotallo chided, winking knowingly at the foundation of broken promises that bound them together by sheer will alone.

Hesitant of abandoning his duties, the Marshal unsheathed his golden dagger, and rested it upon the vanity for her to wield. The weapon gleamed beautifully under the candlelight, cared for and meticulously polished and sharpened to the point of new.

"To protect you in my absence." He nonchalantly grunted before turning around. Aloy nodded with serene reverence, strapping his proved possession securely upon her belt.

"I won't be long. I promise." She swore, kissing him.

He took his leave then; following Anarra and her pensive son. They bid their quick goodbyes, letting the other guards and handmaidens leave the premises first before following suit.

Anarra paused by the exit, dutiful as ever.

"The guards will escort you to the fourth trial when you are ready. Just call for one and they should lead you to where it begins."

"And the other Marshals?" Aloy paused, eyeing the lack of the usual soldiers in blue and gold. "Do you know where they are?"

After careful thought, the clan advisor nodded. "In position, as the Chief himself commanded."

The stone in the huntress' stomach grew heavier at the weight of his absence, wondering just how much of the earlier commotion Ivvira had reported back to him.

"Very well," she sighed, "Tell everyone else they're dismissed. I can find my own way to the trials."

"As you wish, Champion." The woman smiled. "This is goodbye for now. Since I cannot watch the rituals, I can only wish you luck through the old ways, as the First Ones used to do."

The blind woman took a smear off the paint from her olive skin, and took Aloy's pale wrist. And in large scarlet glyphs, she wrote an incantation or blessing, native to the ways of the desert.

"Hemovva nimorreo." Anarra murmured in grim fashion, almost like a broken prayer.

"Meaning?" Aloy curiously raised her brow, inspecting the Old words hidden under her armored sleeve.

"I do not hope you die." She chuckled dryly.

The desert woman bowed, low and graceful in every turn despite her clumsy ways. The other of the soldiers soon followed, departing the chambers.

And Kotallo, the last of them to go.

Aloy's eyes met with his lingering look and her smile faltered. "I'll see you at the trials?" Her lips trembled.

"I'll come find you myself." He promised.

Kotallo bowed and left as well, leaving the huntress alone with her thoughts. She watched his shadow disappear into the sunset through the parted tapestries of the walkway, the fabric dancing with the wind. And only when Aloy was certain she was truly alone, only then did she allow herself to truly feel.

The tea in front of her, now cold, sat half emptied as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the grief that threatened to consume her. The only sound in the room is the faint whisper of the wind outside, as if even the elements were mourning for all that she had lost in a single day.

Her peace. Her hope. Her sanctuary to run to, no longer unmarred by the sins of her past.

The world began to spin wildly as a wave of nausea threatened to topple her to her knees. "No, not again," Aloy thought in misery, hunched over the vanity, trying not to make a sound while she desperately struggled to breathe.

She refused to cry, refused to let her darkest thoughts consume her. But the harder she fought, the more unwanted memories washed over her, coming and going in crushing tempest of tidal waves.

Nil's name echoed like a curse inside her, his touch, his brand upon her soul, marking her with the darkest stain. She could still see his bloodied hands, the very ones that stole her future away, casting it forever beyond her reach. The ghost of his bloodstained lips, taunting and cruel, was ingrained in her memory like a scar. And the emptiness that always followed, a void that felt like it would never be filled.

But then Kotallo came to mind somehow everything grew even more unbearable. She remembered the look of pity in his eyes, the rage that coursed through his veins, and the punishment he bestowed upon Nil for his unforgivable crime,

And all of it;

Every strike.

Every betrayal.

Every lie.

All of it echoed in a haunting refrain, destroying her from within.

She never wished for Kotallo to be her weapon, just as Nil once used and wielded her. Yes, she had always welcomed her Marshal's protection, yet never his wrath.

And yet, as Aloy watched Kotallo dole out the vengeance she could never take for herself, the darkest parts of her most deeply buried, couldn't help but love him even more for it.

For being the sharpest edge of her knife. For being her executioner, even if she could not bring herself to utter the fatal decree.

And here she thought Nil was the monster…

She should have known she was the most monstrous of them all.

Ever so slowly, Aloy wilted and slumped into the wooden vanity, biting down on her lips. With quivering hands, she clasped her mouth firmly, forming a tight seal.

And then she screamed. She screamed as loud as her lungs would permit, each sound stifled solely by her flesh. She screamed with all the rage that boiled inside her, all the secrets that tormented and poisoned the soul. She screamed like a feral animal, howling in pain as it gnawed on its leg in pursuit of liberation, ensnared between cruel metal jaws. She screamed and screamed and screamed until the wounded beast within her could scream no more.

And only when her voice began to crack, and her throat began to bleed did she stop.

Her breathing slowed, and when Aloy looked at her reflection in the mirror, she almost laughed at the mess of paint on her face, smeared by the tears she could not restrain. Delicate fingers drifted upward, wiping away her tears with a tender touch. She sniffed, a melancholy laugh escaping her lips as she strove to restore her appearance to a state of dignity. Yet, her hands shook with a terrible tremble and her efforts only served to smudge the pigments upon her face even more.

She brushed her cheeks, resigned to staring at herself, wondering if the ghastly reflection before her matched the hideousness that lurked underneath.

In an attempt to calm herself down, she reached into her pocket to work on the stone talisman she had been carving, hoping to finish it before the trial. But as she stared at it and its sloppily carved details, Aloy had no choice but to deem her work far too inferior compared to the ones her father used to make. Frustrated, she clutched it tight in her palm until the jagged stone cut into her skin, and she bled into it, staining it some more.

Shouting with frustration, she pitched the rock at the mirror, shattering the pane into a million fragments. The stone, however, persevered and remained whole. It bounced off the surface and skipped across the floor. And when she followed its direction, Aloy was surprised to find a pair of small feet standing frozen by the door.

"Navvan! What are you doing here?"

The young boy picked up the stone talisman, gazing up at her with round worried eyes.

"Chieftess, are you okay?"

Aloy tried to collect herself, hiding her trembling hands and sniffing back tears. She forced a reply, "Oh, I was just... missing someone." She swallowed bitterly. " Shouldn't you be with your mother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Navvan tiptoed through the minefield of shattered glass, coming closer showed a small bushel of fuschia flowers bundled up in his small hands.

"I came to give you these," he said with a smile, offering the messy bouquet of pink petals.

Aloy blinked at the flowers with confusion, "Dawnblooms? What for?"

Navvan climbed up onto her lap gingerly, reaching for her long red braids with unbothered candor. "No reason. I just thought you could use more color, 's all," he told her as he began weaving the flowers into her hair.

"They're beautiful." Aloy stooped lower so that the boy could reach her crown more easily. "Where did you get these?" she asked, eyeing the extremely rare blooms.

"Amma has a garden full of them. She likes flowers a lot," Navvan replied with a grin."Especially the ones that smell nice."

A garden in the middle of the desert, the huntress mused with mild wonder. As if she herself hadn't encountered more curious and novel sights before.

But at this point, nothing really surprised Aloy anymore.

"Your Amma must be quite the gardener. What other kinds of plants do you grow?"

"All kinds," he replied, still working on her hair. "Food. Spice. Medicine. Amma trades in everything she can get her hands on to keep the merchants and the healer's stores filled. That's why everyone treats her nice now. She says it's very important for her to be… indistinguible."`

"You mean indispensable?"

"Same thing." The young boy huffed, biting his tongue in concentration. "As long as mother has a purpose that the Chaplains find valuable, we don't have to worry about being shunned by the tribe."

Aloy nodded pensively. "Does the tribe treat you differently because of your mother's… illness?"

"They're not so mean to us anymore," Navvan replied with a smile. "But before amma's garden really took root, we were pretty much outcasts from the clan." He then paused to show her the hilt of his wooden sword, stowed neatly at his side. "That's why I'm training every day to be a Marshal. That way, amma doesn't have to work so hard to prove her worth and keep us fed."

"You'll be one in no time," Aloy assured, "You already train much harder than I did when I was your age."

"You think I'll be stronger than you someday?" The young boy grinned with impish excitement. Hazel orbs glowing in hopeful delight.

"If you're going to be my Marshal, then you better be," she teased as she tapped his little, round nose. "I need you to grow big and strong to protect me when I'm old and weak."

Navvan giggled, his face practically glowing at the thought. "Oh, you bet. I'll be the bestest at protecting you Chieftess. I swear it to the Ten."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise then," Aloy hummed, pinching his crimson painted cheeks. "Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart and hope to fly," Navvan decreed, gesturing across his chest as he spoke. "Nothing will ever harm you on my watch. Count on it."

They soon grew quiet, comfortable in each other's unprobing presence. As the boy's gentle hands wove blooms into her hair, Aloy was enveloped in a hush of tranquility, with only the soft rustle of flowers accompanying their sacred ritual. Mesmerized, she gazed upon the boy's bright hazel eyes and cherubic cheeks, basking in the blissful innocence of youth.

To think, there is a ferocious warrior behind such a harmless face.

For someone so young, he has already endured so much without complaint. To the point where she doubted if he even noticed the bandages still wrapped around his bruised head from a battle well won, or if he had just forgotten about it all the same.

With a finesse beyond his years, Navvan's delicate fingers styled her tresses with a careful touch that lulled Aloy into a peaceful slumber. As she closed her eyes, she felt a sense of serenity course through her, washing away all her troubles and woes.

And then, in a whisper as soft as a summer breeze, Navvan asked, "Can I fix your paint too?" Aloy, with a weak nod of her head, agreed, and Navvan's face lit up with excitement. With a clap of his hands, he dipped his fingers into pots of paint and began to adorn Aloy's cheeks with new glyphs and patterns in a masterpiece of his own creation.

With an unwavering focus, Navvan carefully brushed each stroke, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on each meticulous detail. Aloy couldn't help but giggle, the melody filling the room with music as she let herself be overtaken by the moment.

And then, with a gentle touch, Navvan declared his work complete.

"Better?" he chirped as he finished.

Aloy opened her eyes and gazed upon her reflection, and for the first time in forever, she didn't loathe what she saw.

"Much better," she whispered, a small smile gracing her gilded lips. "But you know what I think?"

"What?" He asked, hushed like a whispered secret.

"I think you can use some color too." she grinned, placing the remaining flowers upon the child's hair. He giggled, accepting gratefully, jubilant with a crown of his own.

"You know something, Chieftess? You're really not as scary as everyone says you are."

"Is that a bad thing?" Aloy smiled with her melancholy eyes.

"Eh. I don't mind it," he shrugged. "But you could try to be scarier if you really want the clan to like you. You're too soft the way you are now."

"I can be scary," Aloy said, pouting, "I can be very scary anytime I want to."

Navvan simply rolled his eyes and laughed at her face, immediately proving her point otherwise.

"I've seen it." He at least admitted. "But tonight, you have to show everyone else too." His features soured with somberness, and the young boy suddenly trembled, clinging to her braids. "You have to. Okay?"

"Hey…" Aloy crooned, fondly cupping his face. "What's wrong? Are you scared that I'll get hurt in the trials?"

Round eyes widened with utmost fear, and Navvan trembled, before burying his face upon her neck. He hugged her tightly, fiercely, with more tenderness than she ever deserved. And his next whimpered confession swiftly shook her to the core.

"I'm scared everyone will," he whined, the sounds muffled by her hair. "If you die then the Chief will too. Then Marshal Kotallo and everyone else will leave and never come back and I'm going to be all alone again."

"Oh you sweet boy," Aloy embraced him fiercely, the armor around her heart cracking. "That is never going to happen."

"How do you know?"

"It's my job to know things," she assured, running her hands around his messy hair. "And I know that no matter what happens, you are never going to be alone, ever again."

"You promise?" He blinked up at her with irrefutable, gleaming hope she dare not shatter.

"Cross my heart and hope to fly," she whispered, pressing her lips upon his brow.

"Here, you should keep this," Navvan reached into his pocket, and took her palm in his small hands. He then returned the stray talisman she had thrown away, tucking into her fist. "It's too pretty for you to throw away."

She glanced at the measly thing, lighter than a petal and yet as heavy as a boulder within her hold. Half of it was stained with the shade of copper, the stone absorbing the ink of her blood.

"You think it's pretty?"

"Course." Navvan grinned through his chipped tooth. "What is it though?"

"It's a…gift… for someone."

"Ohhhhh," the boy nodded thoughtfully before pausing and tilting his head. "So who is it for? Marshal Kotallo or Chief Hekarro?"

The huntress bit her lip.

"How are you sure it's for either of them?"

"Y'know… for someone who knows everything, you sure don't know lots of things." The boy hopped off her lap in frustration, suddenly distracted by the gust of wind that had a singular flower blowing off her hair. He chased it clumsily, leaving Aloy in a daze as she stared at the carved stone. "Tenakth only offer gifts as a formal declaration of love. So you better think carefully before you give anyone anything, or you're going to give them the wrong idea."

The flower floated away to the outside world, forever out of the young boy's reach.

"Wait… that can't be right," Aloy hummed, turning to him in confusion. "Are you sure about that?"

"Am I not Tenakth?" Navvan scoffed, unsheathing his training weapon and practicing his drills. "What makes you so surprised? Everyone gives you gifts all the time. You should know what it means."

"But…" the huntress stammered, at a loss for words. Because if memory serves her right then, "Kotallo's given me plenty of things ever since we met…" she trembled, recollecting every blade, every metal scrap, every trinket and piece of armor she'd ever received from the stoic man, long before there was ever any tinder to their fire. Her heart turned in twists and knots when she soon realized,

"And so has Hekarro."

Surely… Surely he didn't.

"So? They must have loved you for a very long time then." Navvan rolled his eyes, hardly shocked, dancing in semi circles as he swung his artificial blade around. "I don't know what's so hard to understand."

Aloy tucked the ornate stone into her gleaming armor, rendered speechless in her muddled thoughts. She watched Navvan train with frantic energy, eyeing his wooden spear.

"I gifted you that and you accepted it," she pointed accusingly. "Did I declare my undying love for you then?"

Suddenly, Navvan sagged, lips curling into a quivering pout.

"You mean you didn't?" He whined, absolutely devastated, on the verge of tears.

"I… Well, I…. Nevermind," Aloy sighed, unable to break the poor, little boy's heart. "Here's a thought," she said, hoping to distract him, "Why don't you escort me to the trials? I really need someone to guide me around this maze."

And just like that, the crisis was averted.

"I know the way! I'll show you!" Navvan hopped in place, spear wildly swinging about. "Let's go, Chieftess! Let's go!"

Aloy laughed heartily at his contagious eagerness, shaking her head as she finally stood from her seat. "Just give me a minute and we'll go. I just need to find where your mother stowed my weapons."

"Hurry then! I bet everyone else is already waiting." He impatiently called from behind. The huntress looked around the large hut, opening every chest and wardrobe she could find. And yet, there was no sign of her spear nor her bow to be found.

No matter. It's not like she was allowed to use them during trials.

She patted the golden hilt of Kotallo's dagger at her hip, more than satisfied to rely on its protection. And just when she was about ready to leave…

A cold gust of air blew, shifting the incense smoke into fragrant mist swirling all around. Navvan's frantic calling faded to sudden silence.

"Oh hello…. Who are you?" The boy asked in synchrony with the stranger.

Before Aloy could turn around and find the answer, the answer found her.

"My fire," the man behind her purred, sending crippling chills up and down her spine. "The sun dulls compared to your light. Truly, you are a sight to behold."

She twirled around, light-headed where she stood. Navvan unsheathed his wooden sword the moment he saw the sheer loathing in Aloy's eyes. The young boy sneered, trembling though resolute as he stood under a stranger's towering shadow.

"N-nil…. H-how did you escape?" The huntress stammered, hands shaking as she slowly tried to reach Navvan.

Her pulse drowned out all other noise as the Carja smirked.

"I thought I'd take a page out of your book and stopped relying on hope," Nil hummed boredly, twirling two brand new silver blades around his nimble fingers. "Fighting destiny really is so much more fun, isn't it?"

With a pace as deliberate as the beating of a drum, Nil approached, slowly circling the fierce Chieftess and her valiant protector.

"You should have just left while you had the chance. Why did you come here?" She bristled, promptly shoving Navvan behind her as soon as he was within reach, fiercely guarding the child.

But the boy resisted and wriggled free. Insistent on acting as her Marshal, Navvan ran forward to defend his Chieftess, bravely standing in the middle of Life and Death. And with a courage beyond his years, he stepped forward, brandishing his weapon with a determination that belied his tender age.

Nil merely chuckled, a sinister sound that echoed in the stillness. Bending low, he patted the boy's head still wrapped in bandages. ruffling the young warrior's hair.

"How old are you, boy?" He dripped with curiosity.

Navvan sneered, puffing out his chest.

"Old enough to fight you."

Nil broke out in a hearty laughter, and glanced at Aloy with deep approval. "This one's got your spirit, doesn't he? Shame he's not yours."

"Leave him out of this, and tell me why you're here." Aloy snarled, an unkept rage threatening to burst out of her skin.

"Oh, Aloy… Have I not made my intentions perfectly clear already?" Nil purred, his voice dripping with malice. He pinched Navvan's cheek; Relishing in the small whimper he elicited from the child as quiet tears began to spill.

The sparkle of cold gray eyes, however, were reserved solely for her. And with an outstretched hand and a bloodstained smile, Death uttered,

"I'm here to save you."

---

Waiting for Aloy has always been the most difficult fate to endure.

There was nothing ever easy about it, despite Hekarro's best attempt to conceal his growing misery each time she left her side. And while he had always been a paragon of patience; the temperamental chief couldn't help but pace around the length of the trial stage the more his Chieftess' absence prolonged.

In the fiery light of the setting sun, Hekarro stood on the elevated stage at the pinnacle of Scalding Spear's central towers, now adorned with the richest tapestries and vibrant paint. All the tribe had gathered, their clan banners waving high with pride, their voices raised in a clamorous cheer as they eagerly awaited the deadly trials to begin. The sky was awash with a vibrant red, and one by one the desert men lit the torches with a brilliant green fire, a gift from the Lowlands. But as the last rays of the sun disappeared into the horizon, an unease settled in Hekarro's chest like a black cloud, looming larger over him the longer his beloved Chieftess remained nowhere to be seen.

Hekarro approached Ivvira with a sense of determination, ignoring the way the Marshal fidgeted as he approached her station.

She bowed to him, and yet, reluctantly refused to meet his discerning stare.

Hekarro's eyes narrowed, and in a low, demanding tone, he asked,

"What is it that you're not telling me? What happened between Aloy and the prisoner earlier?"

Ivvira, intimidated by Heka's imposing presence, stammered,

"I've told you everything I could, my Chief. But aside from the altercation that led to the Chieftess changing her mind about the prisoner's sentence… I really cannot say anything else."

"It is unlike you to be this deliberately defiant, Marshal. I must say I'm disappointed."

The poor soldier quivered upon his disapproval, and yet stood her ground. Pounding a fist in her heart, Ivvira stood up to her superior, Impassioned despite the glassy look in her eyes.

"Sir. Not once have I ever disobeyed your command since I've had the honor to be your Marshal. I have followed your will to the tee, always, and never have I questioned your orders for it is not my place to do so and I am nothing if not your loyal soldier.

But… I am also loyal to my Chieftess. And to break her confidence is to betray her. A crime I cannot live with," she fervently declared. "So I must ask you to pardon me. Just this once. And grant me the honor of keeping her secrets."

"I don't care about her secrets," Hekarro swiveled around, grinding his teeth with impatience. "I just need to know if Aloy is alright." he growled, his worry intensifying with each passing moment that she remained out of sight.

He clutched his aching chest, unbecoming of a stoic leader, unable to contain the inexplicable dread he could no longer ignore. And just when he was about to leave the premises and search for his wife, he spotted her Marshal joining the challenger's ranks… all by his lonesome.

Kotallo climbed the spiral staircase and reached the stage and Hekarro watched him search around for the same wash of crimson hair, nowhere to be found. Their eyes met, and Hekarro hastened to Kotallo's side, much to both their displeasures.

"Where is Aloy?" he growled, his concern reaching new heights. "She was supposed to be with you."

"I had to tend to some personal matters," Kotallo flexed his bandaged hand, just as bewildered by her absence. "But she was just about ready before I left her. She should have been here long ago."

"Are you not her personal guard?" Hekarro snapped, grabbing his armor as his anger boiled over. "Is it not your duty to watch over her at all times?"

"Are you not her husband?" Kotallo spat venomously in return. "Don't pretend like you don't constantly have eyes and ears on her either." He shot a knowing look towards Ivvira, who hung her head in guilt.

Their spat broke apart when the Chaplains arrived, all of them excited for the trials to commence. Jetakka, the desert clan chaplain, stood at the forefront this time around— the next three rituals under his domain. He smiled with electric anticipation, greeting him as proper decorum demanded and said,

"It's a night like no other, my Chief. Everyone is eager to witness a spectacle beyond wonder."

"Expect nothing less," Hekarro promised with a stern frown. "It's about time this clan acknowledges our rightful claim before the Ten."

"Indeed." Jetakka nodded. "The sands will show the truth in time." He looked around and blinked with mild concern when he noticed the glaring lack of the Chief's counterpart. "Speaking of time… Are you and the Champion ready yet? I'm afraid we cannot delay the trials any longer. The desert grows restless by the second and we have stalled as much as we can."

Hekarro cleared his throat, glaring at Kotallo to hold his tongue. "Sound the horns as soon as the moon rises. My Chieftess will arrive shortly," he outright lied, ignoring the worried looks all around him.

"As you wish," Jeto bowed warily. "But you should know that there is no going back once the war-hymns start. The rituals will be followed as tradition dictates, with or without Aloy. Do you understand?"

His was a grave warning. And so was Hekarro's stern reply.

"I do."

"Very well… I shall not tarry any longer." Jetakka bowed. Wilith the weariness of a man beyond his prime, he took Hekarro by the arm and started scribbling on the back of his hand. "Hemovarra nimorreo," He said, blessing him with the glyphs using the colors of the desert clan. "I do not wish you die."

Hekarro jerked his head and grunted his thanks, huffing as Dekka gave him an encouraging pat in the shoulder, silently wishing him luck. The sky chaplain, however, merely gave him a passing nod.

All three elders soon left for the center stage, gathering in hushed whispers while they prepared customary rites.

"I'll go find her," Kotallo huffed, impatient as ever despite his best efforts to mask his concern. As if Hekarro's discerning gaze couldn't see the anxiety in his eyes clear as day. "She's probably just been ambushed by a crowd of adoring followers on the way here." he added, his voice cracking slightly.

Hekarro nodded, having half a mind to follow him too.

Just when Kotallo was about to leave, they heard the weak cries and painful groans of a child. They looked to the side, and all rushed forward when Navvan came crawling up the staircase, battered, bloodied and bruised to a pitiful pulp. He climbed the steep railings with a vicious tremor. weak and shivering, crying with every step he took. And when he finally reached the lofty pinnacle of the podium, he sighed in exuberant relief. Just before he came crashing down to his knees.

Luckily, Kotallo caught his small body right in the nick of time.

"Navvan! What the fuck happened to you?" He snarled, livid as he took account of the ruthless injuries the boy endured, weeping in his arms.

Hekarro surged forward, fuming at the sight of the child's distress. But before she could reach out to him, Navvan rose with a stubborn whimper and pushed Kotallo aside. He returned to the edge of the staircase, muttering feebly.

"T-The Chieftess… I have to h-help the Chieftess.."

His hands reached over the bannister and suddenly, another hand reached in return.

Aloy appeared, crawling up the staircase, her hair a tangled mess of golden beads and crumpled petals, and her body marred with countless wounds. Hekarro rushed to her in a fury, taking account of all the many cuts that covered her head to toe; her entire garb already soaked with the sickly stain of blood along with the mysterious parcel tightly clutched in her battered fist. She leaned against Navvan's wavering support, depending on him entirely to keep her upright. Yet with a single step, they both stumbled, and it was all Hekarro could do not to sprint before he caught her, just in the nick of time.

Kotallo caught Navvan a second time around, embracing him fiercely.

"Who did this to you?" Hekarro roared, clutching Aloy's face with utmost rage. He noticed a faint scent of saccharine to her skin, yet he couldn't find it in himself to think of anything else but the extent of his beloved wife's injuries.

Aloy gazed up at him, out of breath and utterly delirious. Her speech slurred, her body far too weak to stand.

"N-nil… He… He tried to t-take me away."

Amaranthine lights pulsed in Hekarro's veins, a rage like no other coursing through his blood. And when looked up at Kotallo, he was hardly surprised to find the same burning wrath, reflected in his fiery gaze. He called to Ivvira and the rest of his Marshals, demanding death.

"Find him," he simmered, his voice low and simmering with danger. "Find him and bring him to me." He ordered far too calmly, despite the beacon of vivid violet shining from underneath his eyes.

Ivvira nodded, speechless as she bowed and took all the other Marshals with her.

"I'm going with them," Kotallo volunteered, nose flaring as he seethed with the same vibrant lights. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"N-no, Kotallo… D-don't leave," Aloy gasped, reaching for him weakly. "I n-need you." Her fingers were pale blue, and her breathing strained and rushed. And both Chief and Marshal glared at each other as Hekarro carried her weakened body in his arms.

"How are you supposed to join the trials in this state?" The Marshal panicked. "She can't fight like this! You have to postpone."

Hekarro's lips twisted with deep displeasure. "It… it doesn't work that way. To postpone is to forfeit." He glanced at Aloy beginning to flush with a fever. "And to forfeit is to die."

"I'll f-fight." Aloy insisted, pushing herself off Hekarro so that she could teeter and stand. All the while, she doesn't release the parcel in her possession, clutching at it with bloodied fingers. "I c-can fight," she slurred through her dizziness.

The fragrance in her skin became more apparent and Hekarro grew suspicious. He sniffed her hair, and then her neck, before taking her free wrist and tasting the blood dripping from one of her deeper wounds.

He spat it out with a vicious snarl, immediately noticing a stark difference from the taste he knew intimately well and recognized what spoiled it so.

"Morhesekh. You have been poisoned with a paralytic, my love. "

Aloy shrugged, tenacious as ever. "H-he must have c-coated his blade with it or something," she winced, showing off her collection of shallow cuts. "But I'll manage. "

Neither men looked at each other, equally as uncertain whether she was just that confident, or wildly delirious.

"Aloy…" Kotallo sucked his teeth, unable to reach for her with Navvan in his gasp. "Morhesekh is no laughing matter. You need to see the healer now." He tucked the child closer to him, needing medical attention of his own. "Both of you, do."

"The Chieftess was willing to trade her life for mine," Navvan sniffed, inconsolable with utter shame. "Let her see the healer first. I will endure."

"I said I'm fine," the huntress snapped, just before wobbling back into Hekarro's arms. "If we forfeit now, we might as well accept death right? Well I won't accept that, so at least… let me fight this. And if I die, then let me die my own way."

Hekarro hummed in approval, helping her stand upright. She stood tall with his help, leaning against the brunt of his arm while he held her palm in his. He kissed her hand in adoration before the stoic chief murmured, as tender as he was resolute.

"As you wish, setarrah. I will fight with you until the very end."

The huntress smiled brightly with utmost relief, a vision of war as she stood before the setting sun, bathed and baptized in blood. "Till the end." She rasped, feverish yet determined all the same. She turned to her Marshal, hoping that he too, would answer to her rallying call.

"Please, Kotallo," She murmured through blue tinted lips. "I can't do this without you."

And yet her Marshal simply shook his head.

"And I can't let you die," He fervently insisted. "Don't you understand? If you join the trials now, you will get yourself killed. There has to be some other way."

The huntress' knees buckled, her eyes heavy and dull. And yet, there remained some fire in her still.

"There is no other way. This is the only way forward! And this is our only chance!"

Her entire weight shifted as she stomped closer to him, just for her to come falling down on her knees. She cursed, crippled on the ground, and yet just as stubborn as ever.

"I need those orbs to win the war, Kotallo… and I need them to cure you." She gazed up to the Marshal with fearful eyes , trembling harder as she faced Hekarro too. "Both of you."

"I can do this. I know I can." Aloy murmured, dejected by his blatant lack of faith.

Kotallo released Navvan, closing the distance between him and the broken woman, in the same pace as Hekarro reached out for his wife. He sought to help her, and yet she simply shook his bandaged arm away, instead favoring her husband's steadfast support.

"Just look at you!" Kotallo sighed, utterly devastated and distraught as she forcibly rose once again. "How can you even dream of survival when you can hardly stand? The fact that you managed to run away from Nil's clutches in your state is already nothing short of a miracle."

Just then, Aloy's features forged into a shadowed scowl, her clouded gaze swirling as cold as the winter's wind. She pushed herself off her knees with every grace she could muster, and stood tall before both men, hardly recognizable by the wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Who said anything about running away?" The huntress hummed with cruel malevolence, tossing the bloodied parcel at their feet with a pale, mocking smirk.

Ever so slowly, the wrappings unraveled before them, the scarlet fabric coming undone to reveal the grisly gift inside. Kotallo snarled in horror at the sight of it, hopping backwards, while Hekarro…

Well…

He could only gaze at the macabre with speechless adoration, kneeling down to her glorious offering as a faithful devout.

For within it laid a severed hand, mangled and lifeless as its jagged bones jutted out by its wrist, cut off in one perfectly precise and ferocious stroke.

The clenched fist opened from the fall, blossoming like a Dawnbloom bloom upon moonrise. And with a near musical chime, an intricately carved stone fell from the torn hand and rolled towards Hekarro's feet.

He bent down to pick it up, his breath catching in his throat the moment he recognized the trinket. He studied the carved talisman in chilling quiet, clasping every inch of the fragile thing now beautifully soaked in blood.

Never had he seen a more stunning gem among all the gilded treasures he'd come across his long, colorless life.

The moon rose from the horizon, illuminating the huntress' deathly silhouette with a silver glow. The roar of war horns followed, shaking the very foundations of the earth as the tribe broke out in a symphony of battle hymns. And at the summit of the tower, the Chaplains announced the beginning of the desert's holiest ritual.

Not that any of it mattered in this breathless moment.

"I didn't escape from Nil," Aloy crooned with every darkness in her soul, breathtaking in her ruthless smile. "He escaped from me."

And with the last of her strength, the huntress collapsed. She fell into Kotallo's unwavering embrace, lost to the call of oblivion — while Hekarro gazed at her with irrevocable, heart-wrenching awe and pride.

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Well? Was it worth the wait? Will you please tell me your favorite part/s? (Biting my nails and waiting for your comments)

I hope you're paying super special attention to the hidden clues. I missed this. I missed you all.

Last note: i added new artworks for Ch 1- 5 and Ch 20 -22 during my long hiatus. I hope this encourages you to reread the story and maybe find some things that you missed before. I will be adding more artworks in the future for the older and newer chapters but it will take some time. I'll be sure to mention when I add more in the Author's notes so you can check out the specific chapters.

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MAE'S MADE UP TENAKTH DICTIONARY

Mor: death

*revvah: soul

avakh: service

Morrevak: He who lives for death

Hemo: blood

*mor: death

*Orreh: Pain

-ah = feminine

Hemorrah : She who loved death. She who death betrayed

Mor:death

Hessek: stone

Sekh: body

Morhesekh: the Touch of Death, (a poison mimicking effects of rigor mortis)

Hemo: blood

Movva: wish

Varra: stop

Ni: I

Mor: death

Reo: you

"Hemovarra nimorreo." - I do not hope you die.

(AN: lmk if you saw ;) )