The bed was almost too big. Kasia was on the smaller side, and I wasn’t much taller. There was so much space between us that I felt like I was sleeping in a field rather than a room. You probably could have fit three or four of us in here. It was soft, too. It might have been better than my bed back home in Asteria, though I couldn't be sure anymore. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d last slept in that bed…
I lay there, staring into the dark, listening to the silence of the inn. The murmurs from below had quieted a while ago. Everyone had probably gone to bed.
"Hecate?" Kasia whispered. "Are you awake?"
"Hard not to be," I muttered. "It's too quiet."
"Can I ask you something? The... the killing. How do you do it? Does it ever feel bad? Do you have nightmares?" She paused, her voice shaking just a little. "You’ve killed so many people. How do you know who deserves it?"
I felt slightly offended. "So many people? Why does everyone keep saying that? I’ve only killed a handful, maybe two, and they were all in self-defense! It's not like I'm walking down the street indiscriminately mowing down people by the dozens."
But her question lingered, and I had to actually look at the answer. Better them than me? Yeah, obviously.
"My father once told me: you shoot first, or you’re dead. Honor doesn’t win fights, and only the dead fight fair. I’d rather stay alive. If I feel like someone is about to hurt me, I make damn sure I hurt them first. Not only that, but Perry told me to trust my instincts, and he was the smartest person I’ve ever known.”
The thought of Perry brought that familiar ache back to my chest. “Their advice has worked for me so far. I'm still here. It’s also why you’re still here. When I saw you with those inquisitors, my gut told me I had to do something. So I did. They had to die, so you could live."
"And don't listen to Phisto," I added. "Just because he jokes about me killing innocents doesn't make it true. He’s a [Purveyor of Chaos]. Whatever that is, he likes messing with people. His words aren’t worth the air he uses to speak them. I know you can’t understand him, but maybe one day you’ll also get [Omniglot], so I’m telling you now."
I paused and thought back at the start of this whole journey, when Chrestos tried to kill me and Phisto had tripped him when he entered the room. “But he probably won’t let anyone harm you either. He cares, in his own way, I guess. Even if he won’t admit it. Even though he’s always messing with everyone. When it matters he’s there.”
I stared up at the ceiling.
"But it doesn't seem to bother you at all,” Kasia said. “You killed those inquisitors, then started joking with that scriptor. Then you… just cut off their hands and head like it was normal. Just today, you nearly killed that man, and one minute later you were laughing in the shower. How do you do that?"
"I guess I try to find the humor in things," I admitted. "In most situations, actually. It stops me from going crazy. Or from going even more crazy… I crack a joke after something bad happens so I don't have to dwell on it. If you let those dark thoughts take root, they poison you with self-doubt. Maybe that’s crazy in its own way, but it’s kept me moving. And I’m going to keep doing it right up until the moment I look Menekrates in the eye. I want him to realize exactly how big of a mistake he made right before I blow his brains out."
I turned to Kasia. “You can’t dwell on these things, you can’t let it bother you. You kill someone, you let it go. You can’t let it cloud your mind. There are a lot of people out there who want to hurt us, and they don’t need a reason, they just do. Well, I won’t let them, and I refuse to feel bad about it.”
"Do you never wonder if you could have… maybe warned them? Or something else besides killing them right away?"
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"What am I supposed to do? Act noble? Try to talk it out while someone is reaching for a blade? If I try to be 'fair' with people who want to hurt me, that’s just a moment for them to blindside me. Or worse. If I warn them, they may still attack me, and I’ve lost the element of surprise. I’m not taking that risk. Why would I threaten someone when I can just kill them and stop them from being a threat? If you don't want to die, you shouldn't threaten people. Definitely not me."
I sighed. “And what if I let someone go? Who’s to say they won’t just come back to kill me, but now with more people than I can handle? In fact, I’m having doubts that letting that scriptor go was a good idea, but my instinct told me it would be alright.”
Kasia didn't respond for a long time. I could hear her breathing, and I wondered if she was judging me. Part of me wanted to defend myself further, to explain that I wasn't some monster, but then I stopped. I didn't need to explain myself. I was the one keeping us safe. I killed to keep us safe, not because I thought it was fun, and I hoped she understood that.
The world wasn’t a friendly place, and it certainly wasn’t safe. Kasia of all people should know that by now. Obviously I would’ve liked her to be able to keep her innocence, or whatever of that remained at this point, but I doubted that was realistic. It was very likely that at some point she would have to kill in order to survive as well, so she’d better prepare.
Or maybe she did know that, and that’s why she was asking me these questions. Maybe she was trying to come to terms with it, or trying to find coping mechanisms. Maybe she was looking at me and seeing a roadmap of what she was about to become.
"I just don't want to be a monster," Kasia whispered.
“Do you think I’m a monster?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away. Once again the silence stretched, and I wondered if she was going to say yes. Part of me was already preparing a list of reasons why she was wrong, but another part of me… well, I started to wonder.
Was I a monster?
Maybe I had killed a lot of people. Some of them in gruesome ways. I supposed cutting pieces off could be considered monstrous, even if I did it to gain power in order to survive. Even if they deserved it.
And that drunk today. Would I have killed him if Kasia hadn’t stopped me? Would that have been monstrous? Perry wouldn't have done that. He would have found another way. He was smart, he would have de-escalated, talked the guy down, something. But I didn't even try. I just went straight to violence because it was easier. Because it made me feel powerful.
Maybe that's what monsters did. They found excuses. They told themselves it was self-defense, or justice, or protecting someone. But maybe I just liked having the power to hurt people who annoyed me. How could I be so sure they all deserved it? Maybe I'd been looking for reasons all along.
Maybe that’s what a monster does. Maybe a normal person would be crying right now, or shaking, or at least feeling a little bit bad. Was I no better than the people who kept trying to kill me? Was I turning into one of those villains from the stories? The kind who starts out with a tragic past and ends up being the person everyone else has to team up to kill?
I looked at my hands in the dark. They didn't look like monster hands. They were still pretty, and thanks to the shower my nails looked surprisingly well-kept, no longer covered in dirt. But these hands could kill. They had killed.
If I was a monster, did that mean the gods knew? Was that why they gave me this class? Because they saw a monster and decided to give it teeth? Or did the class make me this way? Did Menekrates?
The thought made me nauseous. I didn’t want to be a monster. Monsters were ugly, and they lived in swamps and nasty caves, and they didn't have amazing hair. But if being a monster was the only way to get justice for Perry, then what choice did I have? I couldn't exactly be a saint and blow Menekrates's brains out at the same time. You can’t have it both ways.
"I think you’re scary, Hecate," she finally said. "The things you do... they’re scary. I’ve never seen anyone do the things you do and then just... But you were nice to me when no one else was. You didn’t even know me. You didn't have to do that."
She exhaled. "I don't think you're a monster. You're like a fire, Hecate. You’re warm and you save people from the cold, but you're dangerous. The second you think someone is coming to put you out, you burn them. You don't even wait for them to reach you. You just turn them to ash without even thinking about it."
A fire. I could live with being a fire. Fire wasn't evil, or a monster. And it was definitely more attractive than a monster. Infinitely more attractive than a bwotnik.
"Fair enough," I said.
If being a "good person" meant being a dead person, they could keep the title. I’d rather be the fire that’s still burning.
"Go to sleep, Kasia. We’re going to check out the quests tomorrow."
I closed my eyes and let the softness of the bed finally pull me under. I didn't have any nightmares. If I had to be a monster, at least I’d be a well-rested one.
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