Hillel jolted awake, a ragged gasp tearing from his lungs. He felt as if the air were stuck in his throat, and his chest heaved as he tried to breathe normally. Even once his vision settled, the inside of the tent still wavered, like he was seeing it through smoke. The sudden movement sent a throb of pain through his skull. The horrors that he had witnessed during the night remained fresh in his mind. After all, he bore witness to the destructive power of his captor, Ezra.
He remembered it vividly. Clean, methodical slashes that seemed to rip through flesh like it was nothing. Practiced inhuman movements that left the enemy soldiers disorientated and confused. The number of times he saw guts spilling out of severed torsos made him want to puke his own guts all over the floor.
That man is a monster in human form.
A shiver passed through his skeletal frame. Ever since he first laid eyes on that man, nothing good had happened.
He missed being led around by Eujal, even if it had lasted less than a day. He wasn't scary like Caladeus or Ezra. In fact, he was pretty weak. That didn't matter to him, though.
Then he gasped. Wait! Eujal got injured last night!
Hillel scrambled upright, nearly cracking his head on a tent pole. "Ow," he hissed, rubbing the forming bruise.
Outside, he heard Caladeus's voice. "Hey, the other kid's awake. Should I bring him out?"
"Yeah." Ezra's tone carried through the tent walls, soft but resigned.
A moment later, Caladeus ducked inside. In the faint light coming through the canvas, Hillel noticed scorched holes peppering Caladeus's shirt—fresh battle scars for the fabric, if not the flesh beneath. His skin was smooth, though, courtesy of that spark of his.
"C'mon," Caladeus said. No gruffness, just a matter-of-fact tone. "Ezra wants you outside."
Hillel pushed past the blankets on shaky legs and followed him out. Daylight slammed into his eyes, forcing him to squint. They were in a sprawling field of trampled grass with tents in all shapes and colors. People milled about in various states of unease, some pacing, others slumped in exhaustion. Many appeared wounded, and some sported large bruises on their extremities. A group of attendants could be seen handing out bandages and other forms of first aid. Looming beyond the tents, a towering wall stretched far in both directions—a city wall, he guessed. A gate could be seen with huge wooden doors that were partially opened. A group of Asiran soldiers was gathered around it, carefully checking each person that wanted to go through them. Many people were lined up at the gate, carrying bags and packages. Behind them, the Jazedir mountains could be seen. For whatever reason, he hated looking at them. They brought back bad memories of the blood and gore.
Well, we made it out of there alive. That's something to be happy about.
His gaze drifted to Ezra, crouched near the tent's opening. The scarred man was methodically wrapping bandages over his face—across the bridge of his nose, over his cheeks, hiding every telling feature. Next to him was Eujal, freshly awoken, seated with one shoulder heavily bandaged. Eujal's dark brown hair hung near his brows, dark eyes fixed on Hillel, piercing through him. Still, despite the unsettling stare, Hillel felt oddly relieved to see him upright.
"Hey," Ezra said, glancing up just long enough to catch Hillel's eye. "You alright?"
Eujal echoed him a moment later. "How do you feel?"
Hillel swallowed the queasiness surge from memories of the previous night. "I… I'm fine," he managed, though he knew it was half-truth at best. "What about you, Eujal?"
Eujal seemed surprised by the question. "I'm okay." He turned to Ezra. "how did we get here?"
Caladeus folded his arms, standing next to Hillel. "Ezra teleported us here after he got rid of the soldiers." He pointed to the vast number of tents surrounding them and laughed. "You see them? They all ran after seeing those soldiers drop like flies. They don't know that the monster that slayed those bastards is right here with them!"
He leaned over and smacked Ezra on the shoulder, who shot back a pointed glare. "Let's not talk about it anymore." He growled, turning his attention back to the bandages. "We're at Scissia's gates," he began, matter-of-fact. "We need to get inside, but we can't make a scene."
"Why can't we just...teleport over the walls?" Eujal asked, his black eyes focused on the top of the wall, where the brick parapets stood proudly.
"Ezra doesn't wanna do it," Caladeus muttered, turning to the scarred man. "Tell em' why."
Ezra, who had finished applying the bandages, let out a muffled sigh. He stood up, brushing the dust off of his clothes. "I don't want a repeat of last night. We'll enter normally, hopefully without incident, and then find a place to rest."
Hillel observed the man as he spoke. His eyes were focused on the ground, glassy and droopy. I guess he feels terrible, Hillel thought. He's not a complete monster, but he's still a monster.
"We're all exhausted. We won't pull any risky moves to bypass security. We'll enter with the crowd, like refugees. It should be simple—Scissia relies on trade from the south, so they can't seal off the gates. They funnel folks in slowly, make sure they pay whatever fees, and then they're allowed through." Ezra continued, his voice muffled by the bandages. "Any questions?"
A brief silence followed. Caladeus didn't say anything. Instead, he smirked and looked at Hillel and Eujal, expecting them to speak instead.
Finally, Eujal spoke up. "Do you have the food from the wagon?"
Ezra's expression dropped in horror. He turned to Caladeus, who began laughing loudly.