Page 92 of Enslak

My legs gave out.

I went down hard, my knees hitting the ground with a crack that sent fresh agony shooting through my body.

Niki cried out, her arms coming around me, trying to hold me up.

But I was too heavy.

"But I'm getting better."

I forced the words out, looking up at Charick through the haze of pain.

"Every day, I remember more. Every day, I become more myself."

Charick stared down at me.

I watched the war play out across his face in real time.

Relief that I was speaking. That I remembered. That some part of the brother he'd known had survived.

Grief for what I'd endured. For the century of torture that had broken me.

And beneath it all—a terrible, crushing guilt.

"I was going to kill you."

He whispered it, the words barely audible.

"I came here to end your suffering. To grant you peace. To—"

His voice broke completely.

"To give you the mercy I thought you needed."

"I know."

I reached out with a trembling hand.

After a moment, he took it.

"You thought you were doing the right thing. The merciful thing."

"But I was wrong."

Tears spilled down his cheeks, cutting tracks through his pelt.

"If I'd done it—if she hadn't stopped me—I would have killed you. Killed my brother."

"You didn't know." My voice was fading, fighting through the pain that choked me. "No one knew. Except her."

Charick's gaze shifted to Niki.

Something in his expression changed—hardened into respect. Into gratitude.

"Thank you." His voice was rough with emotion. "Thank you for seeing what we couldn't. For refusing to give up. For saving him when we'd already let him go."

Charick's face crumpled. The warrior's mask he'd been wearing—the determination, the resolve, the terrible duty—shattered completely.

"Enslak." His voice broke on my name, splintering into pieces. "Brother. I thought—we all thought—"