"Halen."

"Aunt Zola."

"What do you think you're doing?"

Hal glanced around her, pretending not to have the faintest clue what her aunt could be referring to. "Nothing." The woman made a face, stepping forward to take the two buckets of freshwater Hal had drawn and was currently carrying back for the villagers to cook with. "I can handle it. I'm pregnant not weak."

"It's not a risk I'm willing to take. The first trimester is still early enough for things to go wrong. You need to rest while you can."

"How can I rest when there's still so much to do?"

"We managed just fine before you came, love. We can handle it."

Hal sighed as her aunt turned to make the rest of trip down the tunnel. Hal couldn't fully complain: as much as she disliked being idle, her aunt had been more attentive, slowly warming up over the last eight or so weeks. Hal wasn't sure what expression she had thought her aunt had had at first, but the woman's actions were much different. Hal would frequently catch the woman glancing down at her still relatively flat stomach, hope and tenderness alighting in her eyes. She had even once acquired as to what conversations Hal and Murtagh had already had about children and seemed pleased with Murtagh's response.

"And he's right," Zola had said, without a hint of acknowledgement that she was in agreement with him. "Motherhood is indeed an honor, but it is also a burden and a sacrifice. No woman should be made to feel like that is all she exists for. The best women I've ever known are the ones who know to draw on strength from a variety of resources, if they are blessed to have them. I'm impressed he would recognize such a thing."

"He had no choice when he fell in love with me," Hal reminded her, grinning slyly but not wishing to ruin the moment by pointing out her aunt's seemingly growing favoritism towards her nephew.

"Well at least we know he has good taste."

Hal had blushed, pleased.

Of course, news had slowly spread to the other villagers, and a slow excitement had begun to build. Hal, the once believed dead child, returned to them and now pregnant. The pressure was overwhelming, but Hal could not deny how hopeful it all felt. She would not be alone. She had been carefully documenting her conversations, recalling traditions, rituals, customs, and even the mundane life of her people while she had a chance. She hoped to have something close to finish before her year was up — or perhaps before the baby was due — so that Murtagh and Giles could look it over properly. And she would be able to share this knowledge with her child. They would have the memories she had once forgotten, but was now slowly rebuilding each day.

"Are you coming or are you going to stand there and daydream?" Zola called back.

Grinning, Hal jogged to follow after her, walking as she reached her aunt's side. She took one of the buckets back, needing to do something to be of use. Her aunt gave her a look but did not argue the matter.

"You seem to be doing much better. Is the sickness gone?"

"Not fully. Some days are simply better than others. I've been able to keep most of my meals down at least, which is better than it was in the beginning. I could do without the cramping though."

"Wait until you have to deal with the constant urination and the swollen ankles."

Hal grimaced. "Charming."

"Your mother was notoriously awful when she was pregnant."

Hal felt the corners of her mouth lift in a soft smile. "She was?"

"Aye. Complained all nine months without fail: she was hungry, she was ill, she ached, she was constipated —"

Hal snorted.

Zola grinned at the memory. "Oh, but the moment she held you. She just…looked at you. Like you were the first sunrise she'd ever seen. Daniel had to practically wrangle you away from her just to hold you himself."

"Heavens, that sounds like something Murtagh would do. I know in my heart he will spoil them rotten."

"Have you figured out how and when you're going to tell him?"

She sighed with resignation. "Not yet."

"Hal, it will be here before you know it —"

"I know, I know, I just…you said it would be too risky to have the baby here. But you also said if I leave, I cannot return. How am I supposed to choose? How could I possibly raise my child knowing their family is out here. For so long I wanted my children to know their people and their history. I cannot give that up now that it's here and tangible."

"You have to do what is best for the child, Hal. That is what it means to be a mother. It's not fair, love, I know it's not. But I would rather that child be in an environment where they can grow up healthy and happy. And that is not here."

"Then why won't you all leave?" Hal had stopped walking and her aunt looked to have immediately regretted her words. But this was the opening Hal needed and she was not about to waste it. "Please. I know the outside world can seem frightening. It is frightening. I especially know that now. But it is also beautiful and loving. There are cities unlike anything I'd ever seen before, trees as tall as hills — and I met one who was merged with an elf and can talk!"

"Halen —"

"You say this place is not good enough for my children but what about yours? What about the countless children here who have grown up never feeling the warmth of the sun? Heard the waves crashing on the beach? Tasted fruits and honey and coconut —"

"That's enough!" Hal quickly fell silent. Zola looked almost in agony. "Please. Stop such talk. Even if we wanted to leave, where would we go? We cannot go back to Uden. Our home no longer belongs to us now. It is tainted. And the journey here nearly killed us all. Going back would mean greater sacrifice. We do not have enough food, some are hardly capable of traveling such distances, and the cold…" Zola shook her head. "No. We are too old, too tired. And Thea has said the outside world fears us and our magic."

Hal rolled her eyes. "The outside world didn't know about our magic until Thea went and attacked everyone. Or are you still going to insist to my face that she did nothing wrong?"

Zola was quiet, her expression distant.

"I understand all she has done for you and the Sani —"

"No, Halen. You don't understand. You weren't here. You didn't see it. We put our fate in the hands of a child. We had no right burdening her as we did. But when she was old enough, she took charge in a way that no one else dared. I don't know how she figured it all out, but she did. I am largely responsible for her. If you must place blame, then blame me. Not your sister."

"You did not see what Thea was capable of like I did," Hal challenged softly. "I know you wish to protect her, but please do not insult me by diminishing the suffering and loss I endured because of her violence. She harmed innocent people because she is angry. She is nothing but bitterness and rage and in that body she is suffering —"

"I am not having this conversation with you again. Let's just deliver the water before supper falls behind because of us. The men should return soon with the catch. We'll want everything ready before then."

Zola walked away without a look back, her shoulders stiff. Hal fought back tears of frustration. Every step forward with her aunt was another two steps back. Leaving and Thea. Whenever those topics came up, Zola shut down. Hal knew she had to make some sort of headway soon. She did not want to lose her people when it was time to give birth. Hal wanted and deserved both, and one way or another, she would figure it all out.

Trudging after the stubborn woman with an embittered glare, Hal kept her mouth shut the rest of the way, letting the tension fester between them until they were forced to hide it when Morro and the others spotted them.

Taking the bucket from her mother, Morro looked up at Hal and beamed. "I did as you asked and sorted and washed the herbs. They're drying out now."

"Perfect, thank you, Morro."

"Is there anything else I can do? Mama said you shouldn't move around too much because of the baby."

Hal knew she would be sick and tired of hearing that before long. And she was only just shy of three months along. Heavens.

"I don't have anything else at the moment. Let's get this water to the kitchen and we can see what help they may need there."

A group of women and older children scurried throughout the kitchen for the next few hours, boiling the water, cutting up what meager veggies that had pulled from the garden, all while waiting for the men to come back with whatever meat they managed to catch. Hal kept trying to interject to help, but everyone insisted she "stay off her feet" and "rest" despite numerous protests. Eventually Hal just sulked back to the main hall where old friends found and teased her for looking so distraught while being asked to do the bare-minimum.

In the middle of their jest, they suddenly heard panicked shouts and hurried steps approaching. Hal rose to her feet first, having the advantage of her sharp hearing to alert her in advance that something was wrong. Cursing herself for walking around without her weapons, Hal was prepared to rush forward in case an attack was imminent. Instead, the hunting party — including Baldor and Albriech — burst forth, struggling to carry two injured men between the remaining six.

"We need help!" Olwenyo shouted, glancing around. Hal was already approaching, eyes wide as she stared at the gaping wounds each man had on their chests and stomachs, their attire stained with blood, which still ran fresh onto the ground. Frightened gasps from the Sani filled the room on top of the men's pained cries.

"Follow me," Hal demanded. In a lower voice she added, "Not here."

Olwenyo nodded in agreement and gestured to the others. Hal led them away from the group, ignoring the scared faces. The women and children in the kitchen came out having heard the commotion, and Morro's eyes immediately filled with panicked tears. Hal set her jaw, determined not to let her mind get cloudy with emotions in such a critical moment. She locked eyes with her aunt and said, "I need hot water and rags!"

Her aunt nodded and turned to procure the items.

There was no official room for the sick or critically ill. Instead, Hal had to borrow the modest storage room she had slowly taken to occupying to keep the small herbs she was attempting to grow. It had not yielded much luck yet.

"Set them down gently. Elevate their heads. I need to assess the damage. Someone, walk me through what happened."

She kneeled down and it was Baldor who spoke. "It happened so fast. We were tracking a wild boar-looking creature. It was massive, with thick tusks. When we tried to approach it, it attacked. One of the men panicked and accidently released the smallest bit of magic. The creature seemed to become more feral as a response and attacked them both. We barely managed to escape. Olwenyo killed it so that it couldn't follow us but we feared other beasts may appear."

"I don't think we were followed," one of the men said, glancing from Olwenyo to Baldor with desperation. "Right? I don't think anything else saw us."

Hal was listening as she ripped the shirt off the first man. By the time she got through his layers, she felt her heart stop.

"Can you help him?" Albriech asked in a low voice.

"I have the water and rags!" Zola barged in with a large bowl of steaming water, another young woman carrying a bundle of cloth. Both froze in horror when the saw the first man's injury. "Good heavens," Zola breathed.

"Please," the man whimpered, grabbing Hal's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Please, I don't want to die. Not here. You have to save me."

Hal tried not to blanch at how slick and warm his grip was from the blood. Instead, she held him back tightly and said, "I'm going to do everything I can. I just need you to take small breaths."

He nodded, and she glanced around at the others, trying not to let her voice shake. "Do we have anything to sterilize the wound? Something of this scale will need to be properly cleaned before I can sew him up and bandage him. Or I can try magic —"

"No," Zola said immediately, her voice hard. "No magic."

Hal nearly responded aloud but realized how inappropriate it would be for the men to overhear. She rose to her feet and stood close to her aunt and said in a low voice, "I may not have a choice. These wounds will be deep. If I don't use magic they will likely bleed out —"

"If you use magic, you could draw the creatures that did this to them right to us," Zola retorted. "I will not risk the whole village for two lives."

"Aunt Zola, you must have done magic at some point within these walls."

"Thea did, and it was small, a little bit at a time. These wounds would require too much effort at once. We cannot risk it."

"How can you say that when it is not a guarantee that our wards won't hold.

"How can you say that when it is not a guarantee that they will? Can you look me in my eyes and promise me that? That our wards will hold? And if they don't, can you protect us all from the evil that would seek to devour us?"

Zola's eyes were challenging and Hal felt her throat grow dry.

"Halen!"

She turned and looked back, everyone gazing at her expectantly. She made a split-second decision and turned back to her aunt. "Fine. Just bring me something to clean the wounds with, as well as a needle and thread. Enough for them both."

Zola nodded and left soundlessly. Hal turned back to the group and got back down on her knees. To Baldor, she said, "I do not want to waste time. Do exactly as I do for the him. We must stop the bleeding at once. Take his layers off now. Quickly!"

It was like tending to Murtagh for the first time all over again. But Hal could not rely on Mennes to guide her. She took her rudimentary healing knowledge and did the best that she could. The men were able to hold down the injured, which was beneficial since they were, by-and-large, still conscious. Hal had to stop several times, the sight of blood and limp flesh triggering her nausea. But she swallowed it as best she could and pushed through, trying not to break concentration.

"Halen?" It was the first man who had spoken. His brown eyes looked glazed and distant. "Tell me about the ocean."

She paused, confused. "The…ocean?"

"Aye. I heard you mention that you spent the last several years on Illium, our sister island.

You still saw the ocean all the time, yes?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her heart beating faster in panic. "I did."

"I have forgotten it. Please, if you wouldn't mind, tell me now so I can remember."

She glanced over at Baldor, who already had two fingers to the neck of the man he'd been trying to save. He caught Hal's gaze and shook his head.

She sniffed, twisted her features into a serene, sweet smile. "Well, the beaches on Illium look a little different than they did on Uden. Mainly because the forestry is thinner, so it feels more open. You can smell the saltwater miles before you even see it. As you grow closer, the heavy beating of the waves on the shores reach you next…"

Hal felt her own homesickness return as she spoke. But she continued to talk, letting the needle in her hand grow limp so that she could focus instead on her memories. Everyone listened with rapt attention, and Hal could see them all picturing what she was describing. Everyone would've been old enough to have some faint recollection of the ocean, she thought. Hopefully some of that was coming back to them now.

She talked of the hot sand, so white it was blinding, contrasted with the teal of the water and the stunning blue of the sky. She told them of the sea turtles and birds, the colorful fish, and more. She spoke until, slowly, her voice began to fade to a whisper, eyes darkening as she looked down at the man who had already died, a faint smile on his face and tears rolling down his cheeks as Hal gave him the only thing she could: a bittersweet reminder of the life he had once had, knowing he would never see it again.

…

By the time her shock had worn off, Hal still had not managed to cry. She felt like, under different circumstances, she would have. Two lives cut short unexpectedly would normally be enough to move her to tears. Instead, she remained kneeling at the spot where she had tried to save them, staring at the floor, the bodies having long since been moved so that they could be prepared for burial and so that their families could say final rites. Her hands were sticky, the blood on them having dried. It felt unnatural and disgusting, but she couldn't lift her body just yet so that she could wash up. For now, she just needed to sit here and catch her breath.

Approaching footsteps only gave her a few moments to pull herself together, and she took a deep breath just as her aunt appeared in the doorway, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "You've been sitting here long enough. Come, get cleaned up."

Hal knew the woman was right. Not to mention her cramps had returned, and they felt more pressing than before due to the stress. She probably needed to eat and lie down. Yet, in that moment, Hal felt her lip curl with irritation and turned her head to avoid making eye contact. "Just a moment, Aunt Zola."

"You've had plenty of moments, Halen —"

"Well then can I have a few more?" she snapped. "Not everyone can simply recover from having two people die in front of them."

"You barely knew them."

"Doesn't mean I can't mourn the lives they lost!" Unable to stop herself, Hal turned her head to shoot Zola an incredulous look. "How could you say something so cruel?"

"I'm not trying to be. But we do not have the luxury of dwelling in our grief. We must always get up and keep moving. That is how we survive."

"You are not surviving. Nothing about this place is survival." Hal snorted with derision. "You're barely clinging to existence and you're one wrong step away from annihilation. That is not survival, that is borderline self-made extinction."

Zola's eyes were narrowed in anger, her tone barely controlled as she said, "If the way we choose to live our lives bothers you, then you do not have to stay."

"This was not a choice!" Hal rose to feet, her anger flaring higher, unable to bare it any longer. Her stomach twinged in discomfort. "Dammit, this was practically murder. I could've saved them. I had the magic to save them!"

"And you made a choice! You chose to put the rest of our people first. You chose correctly, Hal, why can't you see that?"

"Because you told me to make a choice, and my choice condemned two innocent people to death. People who, in their final moments, longed for the beaches of our home. The warmth of the sun that they have been denied all this time. Aunt Zola I can't do this anymore. You all are miserable here. You are slowly dying. If it is not disease or illness, it is attacks like this, or hunger, or the cold. My choice guaranteed that those men would not live. But I will never know if using my magic could've saved them without the repercussions you fear but do not know for sure will come. And now I must live with that. And that's not fair to me when I have been begging you this entire time to leave —"

"I refuse to stand here and listen to this drivel any longer! If you insist on your selfish stupidity than you and those two outsiders are welcome to take your leave. We do not need you here."

Zola turned on her heel and stormed out the room, but Hal was quick to follow, refusing to back down. "Why exactly do you think Thea brought me here, huh?!"

Zola kept walking, not looking back or engaging. Hal didn't care. She knew her aunt could hear her, and that was all she needed.

"You all will not make it another generation here," Hal continued, shouting now. "Thea knows it and she wanted me here to convince you all to leave. You claim to trust her so much and yet even she knows that this place will rot the Sani from the inside out!"

"Thea does not speak for the Sani people!"

"And you do? You are willing to look all those people in the eye and say that you would rather they die here than live in the outside?!"

"DO NOT ASSUME TO KNOW WHAT IS BEST FOR OUR PEOPLE!" Zola's chest was heaving now, her eyes wild with rage and fear. She looked at Hal but did not seem to see her at all. Or rather, she no longer recognized her. Zola finally seemed struck by the realization that the Hal standing before her now was not the one she had lost on Uden.

"You cannot let fear trap you in this place. If you do that, Galbatorix wins. Our people endured. We survived the slaughter. But that means nothing if we instead die in the mountains, away from civilization and away from the life that people not only want, but deserve. The children should know what the real world is like. Yes, the world can be a terrifying place. But there is still so much life and love and hope and wonder and joy that they will die having never known. You know that's not right or fair. And if you let me help you —"

"We don't need your help, Halen. We never asked for it! If Thea were here —"

"But she's not, is she?! Where is Thea? She's been gone nearly the entire time I've been here. And, in her absence, I helped cook meals, I helped hunt the food, I watched the children, I did everything I could to earn your trust so that you would not dismiss me so easily when I pleaded for you to leave with me!"

Her entire was body shaking with emotion, tears of anger running down her cheeks despite how steady her voice remained. But worst of all was that her aunt was also crying. She looked furious, like Hal had betrayed her.

"Do you know how your sister, my mother, died?" Hal asked quietly.

"How dare you —"

"Arrows to the back," Hal continued. "As she pushed the boat that carried me out to sea. She didn't stop pushing until she knew I was too far for the soldiers to retrieve. Her body sunk into the ocean and she died there."

"ENOUGH!"

"She made sure I survived," Hal pressed, taking a step closer. "She made sure I survived, so that I could live. And I did. I will not act like I am ashamed, as if I did not struggle in my own way. I thought I was alone. I suppressed every memory of our people until there was nothing left. Until I could not even recognize my mother's voice. I was a shell of a human, afraid of getting close to anyone because all I knew was loss. I would've died alone and bitter and angry at the world for taking so much from me." Zola didn't answer, practically shaking, and Hal dared continue. "But all of that changed when I decided to take chances I otherwise wouldn't have. I took a chance on Murtagh, and him one me. And we fell in love. The kind of love that makes me wish my parents were alive so that they could meet him. I took a chance on a blind, witty, old man who not only nursed me back to health, but reminded me of the people I had lost. The same softness and compassion that I missed, found in a complete stranger who raised me as his own. I have moved beyond existing to dreaming. About my future, about my life and what I deserve. I deserve to be happy, and so do our people. You are not happy here. I cannot fault you for being afraid. But if you let your fear keep you here…then Galbatorix should've killed us all on Uden. At least then we could've died with dignity —"

Zola reacted so fast that Hal barely had time to react. Suddenly her cheek was stinging and her head was turned to the side. She gaped dumbly, slowly turning her head to look at her aunt who looked both stunned and galled. She glanced down to stare at her palm, and immediately clutched it to her chest like it had moved of its own accord and she was frightened of it.

"Halen, I —"

"Mama?"

Morro appeared down the hall, and Hal looked past her aunt and blanched when she realized that a small crowd had gathered, their faces stricken at what they had overhead. Hal's stomach jumped painfully, her nerves awful as she tried to force her composure. But it was too late and the damage was done. Hal felt rooted to the spot, an unbearable guilt and shame hitting her all at once when she finally processed what she had just said out loud. She was going to be sick. She clutched her stomach, waiting for the feeling of bile to rise up in her throat.

But the feeling never came.

Instead, she shuddered to realize she was pissing herself, and dropped her gaze in alarm only to feel like the ground had been yanked out from under her.

"Morro, how long have you been standing there?" Zola asked, trying to sound unflustered.

"Aunt Zola —"

"What's going on?"

"Aunt Zola, I think something's wrong."

When Morro drew closer, her eyes widened with horror. "Hal?"

Finally, Zola turned, and the color drained from her face as her eyes traveled down to Hal's skirts, and the blood that had appeared from between her legs.