The low hum of the ship filled Youri's ears. He was lying limp on top of a broken crate, and slowly his eyes began to open, the shapes in front of him swimming before they settled into focus.
"Hey… Six, what happened?" he said weakly.
There was no answer. He turned, expecting to find someone behind him, and nobody was there. He frowned and began calling Six's name, again and again. His voice came back to him hollow and empty, and panic surged up through his chest. He scrambled off the crate and searched the hangar, looking everywhere. As he searched, the last moments before he lost consciousness came back to him in pieces — the soldiers bursting into the hangar, the shouting, the chaos, and finally Six's arms around him.
He dropped to the floor.
His whole body was trembling. Tears filled his green eyes, and he screamed Six's name until his throat burned. The crew came running when they heard him, but he barely noticed them, until through his tears he caught sight of the man he had bribed. He staggered over to him and demanded to know where Six was. The man said nothing. He only shook his head.
In that moment, Youri truly understood. Once again, he had been saved by somebody else's sacrifice.
At the age of twelve, he had already lost almost everyone he had ever known, and as he knelt sobbing on the cold metal floor of the ship, his tears fell without end while the faces of the dead filled his mind. Lira. Flavio. Six. They had all died because of him, and for him. The guilt was overwhelming. The crying went on and on until his body went into shock and he collapsed again, his cries still echoing out into the dark.
He woke up a day later. The ship had already landed on Montra, and as he stirred, one of the crew came over to him. "This is Montra," the man said. "I hope you find peace here."
Youri said nothing. He stepped off the ship with nothing but the clothes on his back.
The streets of Dahrin were crowded with people, some of them laughing and others simply enjoying the calm of the day. Youri walked those same streets with a pale face and a dark, heavy heart. Life had beaten him down to nothing, and he walked without purpose or direction — until he bumped into someone. Looking up from his small height, he saw a military uniform. He raised his head to apologize, and his breath caught.
Barnaby stood there with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, smiling.
"Long road, huh?" he said.
Youri froze, unable to move.
Barnaby leaned down a little. "Why, Youri? You could have stayed on Volar. Worked. Made money. Been someone. But instead you decided to do all this." His smile faded. "And you did it behind my back, despite my warning."
The crowd around them seemed to fade away until it was only the two of them standing face to face.
"Six is dead," Barnaby said. "You deserve to know that much, at least. I was told he led the officers all the way to the park, and he was shot there and died on the spot." He paused. "But he went out smiling. Or so I'm told. He was one hell of a brother, wasn't he?"
The wind swept down the street and stirred their hair. Youri's face darkened further as the tears ran down it. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you have to take us on that first job?"
Barnaby was silent for a moment. Then he pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it. The wind carried the smoke away as soon as he breathed it out. "I don't know," he said. "You reminded me of who I used to be. I'm an orphan too. I grew up in the slums of Terria. I stole. I hurt people. I sold drugs. All of it just to get some power." He looked away briefly. "And through all of it, what I wanted more than anything was a helping hand."
"We never asked you for help!" Youri shouted.
Barnaby breathed out again. "I know. But help comes in a lot of ways. Sometimes it's unwanted. Sometimes it comes too late." He turned back to Youri. "So what do you suppose I should do with you now?"
Youri lowered his head, and his voice was empty. "Do whatever you want. I don't want to walk this wretched, twisted world anymore."
"So you want it all to end?" Barnaby took a breath. "You've lost one brother, and now you don't want to walk the road he died to give you?"
"What do you think you know about me?" Youri shouted, and a grim smile spread across his face. "Everyone close to me dies. They all leave me behind. How do you think that feels?"
Barnaby flicked his cigarette away. "I know you've been through a lot, kid. But trust me — you haven't seen all the darkness yet."
Youri laughed bitterly. "Have you ever heard of the Institute of Potential?"
Barnaby frowned. "That place is a myth."
"I spent two years there," Youri said. "Six probably grew up there. He only got a few months in the real world." The tears were streaming down his face. "Flavio and Six and I went through hell every single day, and in the end they both died protecting me. What kind of justice is that?" He lifted his head, his eyes red and burning. "That's why I'm asking you this. Please. End it."
Barnaby looked at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he laid his hand on his weapon, drew it and raised it until it was pointing at Youri's head.
"Hey, kid," he said quietly. "What do you think their dying wish was?"
The wind roared between them.
"Why are you asking me that?" Youri whispered.
"I just want to know if you've forgotten what was given up to get you here."
Youri stared at the weapon in front of him. The memories came flooding in — Lira's bright smile, Six's rough roar and his steady presence beside him, Flavio's eyes shining as he told his stories. A broken smile formed on his face while the tears went on falling. "It isn't fair," he cried. "They left me all alone. What's the point in going on if it isn't with them?"
Barnaby lowered the weapon. "You can wish for it all to end," he said, "but I can't give you that. I may be a thief and a criminal, but I'm not ungrateful. Sending you off after everything that was sacrificed for you would be selfish." He turned back to Youri. "But I can send you somewhere worse. Somewhere like hell. Maybe there you'll find someone — or something — that gives you your answers."
Youri raised his head higher, his tears still falling and his smile still unbroken.
"I survived hell once," he said. "Maybe this one will be hotter."