Awakener's Guide to Climbing the Tower

Misha's thoughts had already gone somewhere else. Valehart, Solmere, then another name surfaced… Faust. She had not contacted him ever since she left Genesis. Elyes was probably worried and might be wondering if she was still alive, which meant he was also probably angry.

Pressing her lips together, she knew she needed to contact him, but not here, definitely not with Dorian standing only a few steps away, quietly collecting every useful piece of information that passed within earshot like a polite spider.

If Elyes had a contact person in Exodus, he might already be trying to determine whether she still was alive. And once he learned she had somehow acquired a Solmere heir and a Valehart bastard along the way–

Misha almost sighed, she could already imagine the expression on his face. That conversation was going to be unbearable so she decided to file it away and return to the problem in front of her. "So your rich-family plan is dead. And now, you want mine."

"Our situation still requires resources and protection."

She fell quiet as she looked at Caius, then at Carl. The answer became easier the longer she looked at them, and it was not pleasant. As much as she wanted to help other people, she already knew who came first. And above all of that, she needed to survive long enough to find her brothers.

That was selfish, she knew it. The knowledge sat heavily in her chest rather than disappearing simply because she had justified it but… she had stopped believing survival needed to look noble from the outside.

"I can't give you both."

For the first time, Dorian went completely still. He clearly had not expected that from her, not when she already understood exactly how desperate their situation had become.

"What?" he asked, the word coming out flatter than he probably intended.

"Supplies or protection," she replied as she held his gaze. "So choose."

His lips parted slightly before closing again, and his eyes searched hers as though checking whether she was being serious. "You're asking me to decide between whether those people eat better or whether they survive the next Floors?"

"No," she answered.. "I'm telling you what I'm willing to provide."

"Some of the people outside that door have barely eaten." He kept his voice controlled, but his jaw had tightened slightly now. "You've seen them. Children, injured civilians, people who survived the Settlement only to become trapped here without enough food to recover. You can help them and you're choosing not to?"

Misha's jaw tightened since the words landed harder than they should have. Some part of her couldn't help but agree so that was now eating her inside.

"Your group has stronger fighters, better equipment, and supplies. You have more than most of the people sleeping outside that door."

Her brow twitched. "So because I have more, everything becomes theirs?"

A faint line appeared between his brows. "I didn't say everything. You're making this personal."

'Personal?' A breathless laugh escaped.

She crossed the room until only a few steps remained between them, then she folded her arms tightly over her chest. "It became personal when you asked me to spend what keeps my group alive."

Dorian did not move. "If you can save someone and decide not to," he said carefully, "that is still a decision."

His words were cleaner than an accusation and more effective. He was not threatening, he was just handing the argument to her conscience and waiting for it to do the rest.

Once, it might have. Maybe part of it still did but Misha had already made too many choices in the Tower to continue pretending every moral problem came with a version where nobody had to lose.

"They are not my responsibility." Her voice came cold.

Carl, who had been quietly listening, finally looked up to them.

Misha noticed it immediately. She hated that he was hearing this but the Tower had not given them the luxury of teaching children that every good person always had enough to save everyone.

"I know it's ugly. I know there are people out there who need my help, and I know some might die if they don't get enough." Her fingers tightened around the sleeves at her elbow. "But there is always one more person who needs something. One more wounded person, one more stranger who needs a potion, a meal, protection, or somebody stronger to stand in front… And if I keep saying yes to everyone, eventually I spend everything."

Dorian finally stopped retorting and for a second, he simply stared at her, brows drawn together, whatever response he had prepared was apparently no longer fitting.

"If someone outside this room dies because I kept my resources, I'll have to live with that." Then, her voice lowered. "But if someone I care about dies because I gave it away, I'll have to live with that too."

Misha had finally stopped pretending those two losses would weigh the same.

The room became painfully quiet until the door opened and someone stepped inside the room, Astrid.

She stopped almost immediately when she saw Misha and Dorian facing one another across the cramped room. Her green eyes moved first toward Caius, then Carl, then back toward the two adults.

"What's happening?"

Dorian did not look away from Misha. "If we're expected to travel together, withholding useful capabilities creates additional risk."

"If that's the case," she replied, "we can head to the next Floor separately."

Pressing his lips into a hard line, he curled his right hand once at his side before he seemed to notice and loosened it again.

Misha continued before he could regain the conversational advantage. "If you choose supplies, our group does not assume responsibility for escorting or prioritizing civilians. We fight our own battles and you fight yours. If you choose protection, our supplies remain under our control, and anything we share is at our discretion."

Dorian's eyes sharpened even more. "And if your judgement conflicts with mine?"

"Then my group follows mine."

Astrid remained silent, quickly catching up with the topic they had been discussing, so when Dorian finally turned her way, she gave no agreement or disagreement, no rescue from Misha's ultimatum.

After a few seconds, he turned back. "And if I believe a particular route requires your strongest fighter?"

"Then we decide when we reach it."

Dorian gave her a long, disbelieving stare. "..."

"I'm not promising you somebody else' life because you need one to clear a Floor."

That shut him up for a moment. Then, he finally breathed out through his nose, his shoulders dropping a fraction as he did. He looked toward the ground for a moment before raising his eyes again.

"Fine." His mouth tightened before he forced the words out. "We'll need your protection more."

Then he turned toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped with one hand on the frame. He glanced back over his shoulder, and this time his simple was thin and controlled.

"You keep your word, Gravekeeper," he said before stepping into the corridor with the door clicking softly behind him.

Seeing him leave, a deep breath left her in a long tired stream. "Finally, he's gone."

Astrid, who had remained near the bed with her arms loosely folded, looked toward the closed door for another second before turning back. "I don't like him either."

Carl, seated at Caius' side, wrung the damp towel one final time and carefully placed it beside the basin. "He doesn't seem like a bad guy."

Misha glanced at him. "Someone looking like a good person doesn't mean they are one, and someone helping you once doesn't mean you owe them trust forever."

The boy frowned slightly. "But he helped Caius and he didn't leave the people outside. Why don't you trust him?"

"Because I don't know him yet."

"Then… should I trust you?"

The side of her lips curled into a small smile. "That's for you to decide."

He was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. He had learned enough to understand caution.

Misha turned toward Astrid. "How's Hiiro?"

The girl's expression changed slightly. The guarded tension around her eyes eased, and the faintest hint of restrained amusement touched her mouth. "Surprisingly, he's behaving himself. He hasn't left the room they gave him since he entered it."

She raised a brow. "That's suspicious."

Astrid smiled faintly. "He complained about the room for ten minutes, then decided to sleep after doing so. He's just tired, more than he's admitting. He always is after he burns through himself like that."

Chuckling, Misha turned away and faced Carl, who had already picked up the basin with both hands. He met her gaze afterward, looking as though he were silently asking if there was anything else she needed.

"That's enough," she said. "Go get some sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"That doesn't mean anything." Then she went and opened the door for him. "Bed."

He pursed her lips and cast one last glance at Caius before finally obeying.

"Good night, Mishana." Then he walked past her.

Misha's brow twitched. That was the name she had hastily introduced herself after Hiiro and the others had already called her real name in front of Alaric and Carl. She had needed something close enough that the slip would sound believable, and apparently, that ridiculous improvisation had now become permanent to every new stranger around her.

"You know, from where I came from, Mishana has a rather beautiful meaning," Astrid said once the door had closed.

The older woman paused and faced her. "It does?"

"Misha is an old name for marigolds where I'm from. This flower is associated with remembrance, and the dead." She glanced at her. "And shana means something close to 'she who remains' or 'she who endures.' Put together, it can be interpreted poetically as…" She thought for a moment before continuing, "The flower that endures after everything else has passed."

"..."

"It's rather fitting, don't you think?"