The moment we saw them, we ran.

  We didn't hesitate.

  We didn't look back to see the cold, hungry eyes of the Captain or the woman with the snake tattoo.

  We just ran, our boots skidding on the damp stone, the sound of my own panicked gasps filling the huge, hollow chamber.

  My lungs felt like they were filled with crushed gss, and my legs were shaking so hard I thought I would trip and be swallowed by the shadows.

  Behind us, I heard ughter.

  It wasn't a scary, monster roar.

  It was worse.

  It was a zy, bored sound.

  "Where are you going, boys?" the Captain said, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.

  "Running will only dey your deaths. You're just making yourselves tired for the harvest."

  The woman ughed with him, a sharp, tinkling sound that made my skin crawl.

  They didn't even sound like they were hunting.

  They sounded like they were picking berries in a garden.

  We didn't answer.

  We didn't care.

  We kept running toward the far wall, toward the second ancient door that led to the Duchy.

  They didn't chase us immediately.

  They were rexed, stepping over the carcass of the troll as if it were a fallen log.

  Maybe they thought the door on this side was also automatic, or maybe they just liked watching us scramble like terrified mice.

  While we ran, Frans spoke quickly.

  His voice was calm, but it was fast, faster than I'd ever heard it.

  "Listen, Rick."

  "I-I'm listening!" I sobbed, my vision blurring with fresh tears.

  "This seal can open and close the door instantly. As long as it's not on the pedestal, the door will always close and lock from this side."

  My heart started beating strangely, a heavy, sickening thud that felt like a warning.

  Why was he telling me this? Why wasn't he just opening it?

  "When you exit the cave, go to the Crestin Vilge. Find a merchant named Frederick. He's from our cn. He will help you. The Empire can't touch you directly there. It's neutral ground."

  My mind froze.

  My chest tightened so hard I couldn't get the air out.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  This sounded like the end.

  This sounded like the "goodbye" in the sad songs the old women sang.

  We reached the pedestal.

  Frans moved first, his hands steady even as the Captain's heavy footsteps grew louder behind us.

  He pced the stone seal into the slot.

  The ancient mechanism groaned, and the door opened instantly, revealing a narrow tunnel of dark, cold air.

  Then, he grabbed me.

  Before I could even gasp, he swung me around.

  He threw me through the opening, and then he unbuckled his sidesword, the one he'd used since he was twelve, and threw it after me.

  It cttered against the stone at my feet.

  "F-F-FRANS?!"

  My mind went bnk.

  I scrambled to my knees, reaching back for the gap, but Frans was standing in the way.

  I saw his face in the golden light of the chamber.

  He was crying.

  Big, silent tears were tracking through the blood and dirt on his cheeks.

  But he was smiling.

  "Survive, brother," he said. His voice didn't wobble.

  It was the strongest thing I'd ever heard.

  "It seems… this is my battlefield of honor."

  The door began to move.

  GROOOOM.

  I saw his face through the shrinking crack.

  I saw the tears.

  And then, I saw his eyes had changed.

  The four concentric rings, blue, white, yellow, and red, were burning with a light so bright it hurt to look at.

  His Avenir eyes were fully awakened, glowing in the dark like four fallen stars.

  He was looking at me. Crying. Smiling.

  THUD.

  The heavy stone door smmed shut.

  The sound was so final, so cold, it felt like the world had ended.

  My body hit the ground on the other side, and the darkness of the tunnel swallowed me whole.

  "…No…" I whispered, my fingers scratching at the cold, unyielding stone of the door.

  "…No… Frans, open it! Please!"

  But there was no sound from the other side.

  Only the heavy, silent weight of the mountain.

  My legs gave out.

  I fell into the dirt, and I cried.

  I cried like a child.

  I cried because I was weak.

  Because I was just a "zy" little boy who couldn't even lift a real sword.

  Everything was gone.

  Father was gone.

  Mother was gone.

  The uncles, the vilge, the smell of hay, and the sound of ughter…it was all ash.

  And now, the only person left, the person who had carried me through the fire and the blood, was on the other side of that door, facing two monsters, so I could run away.

  I hated myself.

  I hated my small, shaking hands.

  I remembered how Frans always stood in front of me, how he always took the harder chores, how he saved me from the boar.

  I remembered Father saying I still had time to grow.

  I remembered Mother scolding me for being naughty.

  They all protected me.

  They all died so I could be "soft"

  "…Frans…"

  He was crying.

  In our vilge, everyone knew the w of the eyes.

  Crying with awakened Avenir eyes was the most embarrassing, shameful thing a warrior could ever do.

  The elders said it was a sign of a broken spirit.

  They said if a warrior ever did that, he would be mocked and shunned for the rest of his life.

  It was considered ridiculous.

  Impossible.

  But I didn't feel that. Not at all.

  As I sat in the pitch-bck tunnel, staring at the closed door, I finally understood.

  He wasn't ashamed.

  He wasn't afraid.

  He was resolute.

  He knew exactly what he was doing.

  He really… really loved me.

  When he said, "This is my battlefield of honor," it didn't mean he was going to win a great victory.

  It meant he was going to stand there and let them cut him into pieces just to buy me five more minutes of life.

  He was throwing his life away for a zy little brother who liked to nap under trees.

  I clenched my fists until the skin broke and my own blood mixed with the dirt.

  I wanted to go back.

  I wanted to scream until the stone cracked.

  I wanted to die there with him, to be buried under the mountain together, so I wouldn't have to be alone in this big, scary world.

  But…I remembered his face.

  The way the blue and red rings looked through the tears. The way he told me to survive.

  "…I…"

  I couldn't waste it.

  If I stayed here and died, then Frans died for nothing.

  If I gave up, then Father's fire and Mother's scolding and the guards' sacrifice were all just garbage.

  I stood up.

  My legs were shaking so hard I had to lean against the wall.

  I reached down and took his sidesword, the cold metal feeling like a piece of his heart in my hand.

  My vision was blurry, and the tunnel was dark, but I started running.

  I ran.

  And ran.

  And ran.

  The tears wouldn't stop.

  They poured down my face, hot and stinging.

  I was crying loudly.

  It was an ugly, messy sound of a heartbroken child lost in a cave.

  I wasn't a hero.

  I wasn't a warrior.

  I was just Rick.

  But I kept running.

  I didn't run for myself.

  I ran for the brother who was being carved apart behind a stone door.

  I ran for the cn that was now just a memory.

  I ran for everyone who stayed behind in the fire so I could see the sun one more time.

  The tunnel felt endless, but I didn't stop.

  "I'm coming, Frans," I whispered through the sobs.

  "I'll survive. I promise. I'll survive."