They’re crouched together, arms looped through one another's the way small children might clutch onto each other before venturing into a dark room. There's something in Dunce's arms, a makeshift shield of some sort that he’s using to defend himself and Mira, though with their backs turned to us, I can’t make out what it is.
Lewis stands just in front of them, fists raised and ready for a brawl.
The looming figure in the doorway, the one everyone is slowly backing away from, is as hulking as a bull. Every inch of Harland's body is taut, every part of him ready to charge. The corded muscles that bulge from his shoulders and around his back remind me of the angry hills of the Unresting Mountains, a terrain so brutal that it's been known to swallow up even the most skillful of climbers.
I fear the same could be said of those who dare face Harland in battle.
Rowland's already survived one fight. He even managed to kill him…for a time. Until my blood repaired the damage that had been done.
I wonder what that means for my own immortality.
I wonder what it means for Harland’s.
The fire in the noctis’eyes is set low as he prowls into the room, searching for something—or someone. My first thought is Rowland. He is, after all, responsible for landing the killing blow earlier, as well as killing one of Harland’s brothers.
But Harland doesn’t know that. He still blames only one person for the deaths of Gregor and Boris.
"Where is she!?" His voice has an inhuman quality, a gravelly edge that doesn't belong to any living thing.
Rowland grabs my arm and tugs me backward.
No one has noticed us yet. Now that the sun has fallen, the only light down below is what the moon can offer through the broken windows, and it doesn't quite reach this high on the staircase.
I glare at Rowland, regardless of whether he can see it. I don’t understand what he’s doing. If he's even suggesting for one second that we leave the three of them to die, then he has everything wrong.
Sable lifts in my hands and it takes me a moment to realize it’s of his doing. It takes me even longer to understand his meaning. But Rowland and I are from the same cloth, even if I haven’t known it as long as he has.
When the people we care about are in danger, we fight to protect them.
"I won't ask again!" Harland bellows, something like bones and dirt in his throat. "Give her to me and the rest of you can leave with your hearts in your chests."
For the briefest second, Lewis' stance falters. His weapon lowers just an inch, almost imperceptibly.
But then Lewis surprises me. His posture returnsto that of a defender, and he squares off with the fuming noctis towering over him.
"That's not how this works. You see, this is war. And you're on the wrong side. Human”—Lewis points to himself with condescending flair, and then to Harland—"Noctis filth. Didn't we teach you this lesson already when we stuck you like a pig?"
It's in that moment that I realize what Rowland has been trying to explain to me since the day our paths crossed after the fall of Hulbeck.
Sometimes, it's worth fighting for others. Because they’ll fight back for you.
My knee thuds against the floorboards as I take aim, but the sound is lost behind Lewis' taunting. For whatever reason he seems to think he’s big and mighty now, even though he has no business feeling as such in the presence of the male noctis before him.
His arrogance will be his undoing.
Withoutwarning, Harland throws his arms back to unleash a bellow that I can only imagine contended with the lungs of one of the ancient, gargantuan Primordials.
Everyone flinches, including Rowland and I, but it's Lewis who loses his balance in the mighty roar.
Harlandlunges before anyone can recover,fist the size of an anvil cocked back. When it cracks into the top of Lewis' head, I can hear the crunch, even from this distance. His knees buckle, his body falling like wet dough into a plume of dust.
Mira screams. She tries crawling over to him, likely to check if he’s still breathing, but Dunce pulls her back before she can reach him.
My blood had been inside him though. A few droplets at least. Will it be enough to save him?
That’s when Harland finds his next mark. Dunce, a scrawny man who has likely always struggled to stand on his own two legs. They wobble now, even where he sits, knees clacking to the staccato beat of his thumping heart.
Somehow, he finds enough bravery within his shaking body to release Mira from their locked arms. He pushes himself to his feet and takes a step away from her, a valiant gesture that I have no doubt he hopes will remove her from the direct line of sight of the ravenous noctis and give her enough space and time to escape. Because now that Harland’s focus has shifted to Dunce who’s slowly backing away toward the windows, it’s leaving Mira a wide, safe path through the front entrance.
