Chapter 93: Dread
Tyler stared down at Bernardo's body, motionless on the ground, his eyes locked there without moving. "I—I didn't mean to kill him." The words scraped out of him thin and broken, barely finding shape before they left him. "No." His hand shot up and pressed hard against his forehead before dragging back slow through his hair, fingers curling tight into the strands as though the pressure alone might hold something in him together.
A small rustle broke loose from the bushes nearby, and his head snapped toward the sound on instinct. It was only the wind, he realized a beat later, feeling the faint, cool press of it drag against his hair.
*Wait, what if someone sees me? I'm gonna get in trouble, right?* The thought struck him cold, and he backed away a step, then another, his eyes never once leaving Bernardo's body as he went.
Then he turned and broke into a full sprint, his boots slamming the ground in a fast, uneven rhythm that matched the frantic pace still hammering away behind his ribs.
He tore through the forest at the speed his new forty points of agility now carried him at, though none of that registered to him in the moment, the sheer velocity of his own body lost entirely beneath the single thought driving him forward.
Getting away from what he'd just done, as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. He had no idea yet how he was even supposed to feel about any of it. His hands weren't quite steady at his sides as he ran, his breath tearing shallow through his throat. The wind tore against his hair as he ran, and the branches he passed snapped and whipped against his armor, tearing loose behind him in his wake.
He couldn't stop the memory from replaying itself, no matter how fast he ran from it, the man begging him to stop, begging not to be killed, dropping to his knees in the dirt. And still, he'd shown no mercy at all. *I didn't mean to do it,* Tyler thought, the words repeating themselves in time with his own footfalls.
A man and a woman in metal armor stood further along the path, and both of them flinched hard at the sudden rush of displaced air that tore past them, gone again before either had the chance to fully turn. By the time they did, there was nothing left to see, only the last of his wind still rolling past them, dying off through the trees.
Tyler began to slow only once he judged he'd put real distance behind him, though he never came to a full stop, his stride easing gradually down out of the sprint instead.
His breath still came hard and ragged, though it had little to do with exhaustion, beneath it ran something colder, a fast, uneven thrum lodged somewhere deep behind his ribs that no amount of running seemed able to burn off.
*Damn it.* Heat rose up through his chest at the thought, his jaw tightening hard around it. He pressed both hands flat against his face. "He tried to kill me. In fact, he tried to do it twice. Why the hell do I feel this way?" He dragged his hands back down and let them fall to his sides. *But still, I killed someone, a living human being. Does it even matter whether he was good or not?*
He kept walking, slower now, his thoughts still churning wild and unresolved beneath everything else. Nothing about what he felt settled into anything he could call right or wrong, no matter how many times he turned it over. *I wonder what James would say,* he thought, his eyes fixed down on his own boots the whole way.
He remembered James telling him once that at some point, he might find himself in a truly dire situation.
One that would force him to take a life. That he should stay wary of everyone the moment he crossed into the monster zone, just as wary as he'd be of the monsters themselves.
"I'm a killer." The words left him out loud before he'd even realized he meant to say them. He walked on until he reached the river, and the whole way across it his thoughts kept circling back, trying to prove to himself that none of it was his fault.
That he'd had no way of knowing the man's skill would suddenly run dry, that he'd never meant for any of it to end this way. But his conscience kept telling him regardless: intention didn't change what had happened. It still happened. He still took a life.
Then the memory came back to him, unbidden, the same feeling he'd carried once himself, crawling through that alleyway, dragging a trail of blood behind him as he fought toward the main road, toward any scrap of light, toward anyone at all who might help him.
How he'd begged to be saved, if only for the chance to finally become someone better. But that man... Bernardo had begged for forgiveness too, and none of it had been real. He hadn't wanted to change at all. The instant Tyler had let himself believe otherwise, believe there might be room to give him that chance, the man had turned around and driven a blade toward him instead.
Tyler's fist curled tight at his side, the leather of his glove straining hard under the pressure. *I'm not like him.* Something in that thought settled the rest into place.
How easily the man could turn around and try to kill him again, the same as he had the first time. The man was a thief, and likely had been for a long time. He'd probably taken a life before this one, maybe more than once. He was a murderer already, long before any of this. Even with what Tyler had just done, the two of them weren't the same kind of person at all.
He forced the thoughts down and pushed on toward the tent ahead, keeping his eyes low and away from the hunters he passed, several of whom turned to watch him go by. The instant he stepped through the entrance, he went rigid, his eyes going wide.
Serena stood behind the counter, deep in conversation with two hunters. Both had the same pale blond hair, the same build, even matching gear, near-mirror images of each other, except for the notch missing from one twin's left ear. He remembered Bernardo describing them, calling them his partners. *It's them,* he thought.
"It's what I'm saying. We couldn't find anything. Are you sure a party didn't come by and wipe out all the Crimson Wolves?" Nathan said, leaning against the counter.
"Um, no," Serena said. *Tyler and James killed a lot of them,* she thought, *but they couldn't have possibly killed the whole pack, not all of them stay in one place.*
At the corner of her eye, she caught another figure stepping into the tent, and a sudden warmth spread through her chest, some tension she hadn't even noticed carrying loosening all at once, for a reason she couldn't place.
"Let's just leave the quest, we've got other things to do," Nigel said, already turning for the exit.
*Really? That's why he wanted us to come in here in the first place, just to talk to her? I should have known.*
Both of them turned together, and found Tyler standing right there in front of them.
Nigel nearly walked straight into him, catching himself half a step short and throwing an arm out for balance. "Woah, man! Watch where you're going!" He didn't wait for anything back, already sidestepping around Tyler and pushing on toward the tent's opening.
Nathan came through right behind him, and as he drew level with Tyler something in his face caught and held him there half a beat longer than it should have, his eyes gone a little too wide, his mouth parting around some word that never quite made it out.
But he let it go, stepping past him all the same and falling in behind his brother, out through the flap of the tent.
"You're back! How did the quest go?" Serena asked, looking up with the same bright, easy welcome she always had for him. Tyler didn't answer right away. He let out a long breath and lowered himself onto the stool across from her, the motion slower and heavier than his usual drop into the seat.
Serena's smile eased back by degrees as she took him in, his shoulders drawn in tight, his eyes fixed on some point past her shoulder rather than on her face, his hands finally coming together and going still on the counter between them, as if he needed somewhere safe to put them.
Her brow drew in as she watched him, her head tilting slightly to one side, the easy warmth of a moment ago fading from her face as her eyes stayed fixed on him for a moment too long.
"Tyler, what is it? What's wrong?" Serena asked. Tyler's fingers locked together in front of him, knuckles paling under the pressure of his own grip, and he drew in a slow breath that seemed to catch somewhere before it could finish filling his chest.
He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if he should say it. "What happened?" Serena pressed once more. Tyler lifted his eyes to hers at last, the color drained low from his face, his gaze unsteady and refusing to quite settle anywhere, flickering toward her and away again before it could hold.
Serena's eyebrows rose in return.
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