The cell was a cold place and the wind blew through the cracks with unrelenting force. The lamp and blanket given to him as well as the additional clothing and the campfire did little to keep the cold away. But Alistair didn’t felt it anymore. He could've sat naked in a snowstorm and wouldn’t have felt the cold. He also didn’t felt the hardness of the stone or the dread of being wrongfully accused. For all he cared, only death could make him feel something, and this something would be relief.

  Time had stopped existing as well. Days or weeks could have passed, and it would have made little to no difference to him. But Rosomil returned, probably just a few hours later. At least the sun was still up.

  The knight’s face was stern and seemed to glow with determination. It was strange how much he resembled some of the depicted angels from within the church.

  “How are you doing?”, asked Rosomil, and sat down in front of the cells on a wooden stool he had brought along.

  “Just execute me”, he answered, monotonous. “Kill me. End my life.”

  “I want the truth and not your life”, he replied with subtle distaste on his face.

  “The truth doesn’t matter. It won’t bring her back.”

  “So you want to be known, judged and executed as your fiancée’s murderer?”

  “Aila’s dead! It won’t bring her back. It doesn’t matter! Nothing matters!”

  Rosomil sighed at this and hung his head for a few moments. Then he looked up slowly, as if assessing Alistair.

  “I thought you were more courageous than this”, the knight said, and stood up to close in on the metallic bars. “I thought of you as stronger than this.”

  “Strength and courage mean little if one deals with ancient gods, it seems”, he replied with a humorless laugh and looked up at Rosomil. “Let me tell you what Sedna asked of me in exchange for my mother's skin.”

  Despite the growing hole inside his chest, Alistair told him everything. From the moment Aila had told him about the shrine, to his foolish swim at night, to Sedna’s conditions and, finally, to what he had done the night Aila had been killed. Rosomil listened closely to him and at no point interrupted his tale. Once Alistair was done, he slumped back once more and closed his eyes with a sigh.

  “I see”, Rosomil remarked after what seemed to be an eternity. “So you’re telling me you did manage to kill the true killer?”

  “I must’ve”, he replied. “Or else I’ll turn into this beast from now on.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “And you’re sure you want to be executed?”

  “Yes. I’ve nothing left to live for.”

  “I’ll see to it that your end will be as painless as possible.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, Rosomil.”

  “No, don’t thank me”, he replied with a pained, deeply disappointed expression. “I have to leave now. Someone will bring you something to eat soon. The execution will be held next evening.”

  Alistair watched him leave and huddled back into the blanket. Somehow, a part of the cold now did manage to seep into his bones.

  “I’ve expected better from you, fisher-boy”, said an old man suddenly and made Alistair jump to his feet.

  A moment later, Aswald appeared seemingly out of nowhere right in front of him. He seemed like a ghost but at the same time he commanded a certain air around himself, that made him appear much more solid than any human was entitled to be.

  “What do you want? Aren’t you the instructor of the knights?”, he asked, distrustful.

  “That I certainly am”, he replied chuckling and sat down on the stool Rosomil had left behind. “I couldn’t help but listen in on what the two of you had to say. Interesting things, certainly.”

  “I don’t think Rosomil would appreciate it if you were to speak with me”, he replied reluctant.

  “The boy doesn’t appreciate plenty of things I do with or without his knowledge, but this one specific instance is for you, my friend.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes, for you. Since you failed your mission.”

  “I… I failed?”

  “You didn’t kill the murderer of your fiancée. You just gave him a sound beating and, since he won his bet with the Seawitch, he got healed and runs now through the village, proclaiming you guilty on all accounts.”

  “You jest! You lie!”

  “I don’t lie. Not in such matters. That’s also why Rosomil left so disappointed. He’s disappointed in you and, for the most part, in himself. For he believes that you lied to him, that you strung him and even your fiancée along. Out of fear and shame for being cursed, a reasoning he understands and why he still acts so amicable towards you, but he believes you a liar. He believes you're guilty and the tale you spun him just now an excuse.”

  “Then you have to tell him the truth!”

  “And what good would that do him? I prefer his heart breaks a little now, rather than later. He must learn not to trust nonhumans. I can’t have him become a Captain within the Order when he so easily believes nonhumans over humans.”

  “You’re a cruel master, aren't you?”, Alistair asked with an angry snarl. “You’re no man of honor!”

  “As much as status is meaningless within the Order, so is this naive notion of honor”, he replied, laughing. “We are an Order of monster-hunters, and honor before reason in the treatment of monsters gets one killed. Rosomil’s potential is far grater than any other I’ve seen among the countless knights I’ve instructed over the years. I would be a fool to have him grow weak by following his heart even, or rather, because he’s right. Because next time he might be wrong. And wrong, you’re just once in our line of work and then you're dead. But back to you. What do you want to do now? Roll up in a ball, cry, and let the true murderer of your lovely girl go around breathing and cheering on your demise? Or do you want to fight? Do you want to take revenge?”

  “I have no fight left in me”, replied Alistair, exhausted. “I… I don’t care anymore.”

  Aswald couldn’t hide his surprise, despite clearly trying. This in turn made Alistair hate the old man even more.

  “Well, if that’s your wish…”, he finally said and stood up. “Still, I give you a chance, should you change your mind.”

  He did touch the door of the cell, followed by a small but clearly audible click. A moment later, he left Alistair alone without another word. He watched the old man disappear and hung his head.