Dying wasn’t something anyone got over.

Mass manslaughter wasn’t either.

Diath Woodrow woke abruptly, eyes searching in the dark for something that wasn’t there. His breaths were short, ragged, catching in his lungs, his heart working overtime so violently he felt as though it were punching against his sternum, trying to break its way out.

A sheen of sweat clung to his skin, smothering him, making him feel trapped in his own flesh. His mind raced, throwing up images of something he desperately wished he could forget. Hot, scorching air burning his lungs, singeing his hair, blistering his skin and the screams, oh gods the screams.

It was the same every time; he couldn’t remember when he’d last had an unbroken night’s sleep. His hands grasped at his arms, curling in on himself as he rolled onto his side, fingers shaking as they ghosted over slowly healing wounds. He tried holding his breath, to steady himself, but the trembling was making it almost impossible. Digging his cracked nails into marred skin, he centred himself on the small pinches of pain that reminded him this was real; it had only been a nightmare.

He lay there a while, staring numbly at the wall in front of him which the bed pressed up against snugly. Time seemed to not exist, frozen so long as he kept tracing the patterns in the grain of the wooden panels. Diath wanted to stay like that forever, nothing more than blissful emptiness in his mind as his heart calmed and his breaths evened out, but the shafts of sunlight beginning to worm their way through the gaps in the shutters reminded him harshly that the world was still there and moving on regardless.

He wanted to get up but some part of him refused to submit to the actions it would take to do that, as stubborn as an ox. Would it really matter if he stayed there all day? The nausea of indecision made him antsy and he rolled onto his other side as though it would make anything better, bringing up the sheepskin throw to cover his bare shoulder. His gaze fell on his pile of clothes haphazardly thrown onto a small wooden stool, his cloak still in a crumpled heap on the floor where he’d left it. He briefly considered getting dressed but from the bed his clothes seemed half a world away, the room so big and daunting that he simply didn’t want to spend the energy it would require getting them. The bed was warm, comforting, and lying still in the quiet was far more tempting than anything the world beyond it could offer.

The sounds of the street below his room at the inn drifted from the shuttered windows, slightly muffled but still discernible; there was a shopkeep reciting off his latest goods and their varying prices, a dog barked somewhere distantly, children shrieked in excitement as they ran past. Diath flinched instinctively at every boisterous scream, the volume jarring him and transporting him back to that mountain, those cages, his mistake, the flames, the screams. His fingers twisted in the throw so tightly his knuckles blanched.

First call for breakfast came and went but to Diath it was like another language, there but his brain couldn’t process it at all. His stomach felt bottomless and full at the same time, overwhelming him with a sense of wanting to be sick but not being able to. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the sheepskin throw deeply, musty and awfully dry but it felt good to cover his face and hide from everything for a while. He didn’t even remember hearing the second call by the time the last one came, time lost somewhere whilst he’d drifted. Diath ignored it all. He wasn’t hungry and he certainly wasn’t interested in getting up any time soon.

Sunlight had crept across the room slowly, the horizontal bars of light yawning over the walls and the floor. It was still morning but a few hours away from midday now. He and the rest of the crew hadn’t planned to do anything today that required them all being together but Diath still felt some guilt at his reluctance to move. Despite that he still couldn’t find the energy to be motivated.

He hated it.

The sudden knock on the door almost made him jump out of his skin.

It was a loud knock but hesitant, the rapping of the knuckles uneven, and Diath wasn’t even surprised at the wary voice that called out to him from beyond the room. There was only one person he knew who’d knock like that.

“Diath?” Strix asked and he could almost envision her stood on the other side, nervously working her fingers at a frayed end of one of her sleeves, “Are you okay?”

Diath winced and pushed himself up a little bit, supporting his top half up with his shoulders and elbows. He cleared his throat to stop his voice catching, his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hated lying to her but he was scarcely going to tell her the truth whilst he was sat half naked in bed smelling awful and fluctuating between high anxiety and despair.

“You missed breakfast…” She said, voice trailing off but Diath could hear the concern there. He looked down at the ground, ashamed, even though she wasn’t actually in the room to see it.

“I know.”

“Oh, okay…” He heard her sandaled feet scuff on the floor, “Evelyn’s gone out, Paultin is downstairs somewhere… I think there’s someone selling pastries outside so I was going to check that out. Do you want anything?”

He allowed himself a small smile at that, “That’d be great, Strix.”

“Okay,” She sounded happier now, he could tell, her voice a little more chipper, less nervous, “I don’t think I’ll be too long-”

“No, I’ll come meet you,” It was impulsive and he was definitely going to regret it later, but Diath realised through just this small bit of communication that he was lonely and if he stayed in bed all day he would surely lose himself and his friends for good, “Just down the road, right?”

There was a slight pause, he’d surprised her. He didn’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed by that.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Just a right when you go through the door… Do you want me to wait?”

“No.” He winced, that probably came out a little too harsh, “Er, it’s fine, you should try and get there quickly, make sure you get the best ones before everyone else, right?” It was a lame save but she seemed to buy it with a small laugh.

“As if I’d settle for anything less.”

Her footsteps had faded well enough away by the time he forced himself to sit upright, legs over the side of the mattress and his bare feet pressed against the rough floor. He looked at his clothes and groaned internally at the thought of the effort it was going to take but stood up regardless, joints popping. Gods, he smelled awful. He was thankful the inn maids left a fresh bucket of water every day in the room. He shuffled over stiffly to said pail and plunged his hands in, scrubbing his face, swilling his mouth, rinsing every part of himself down.

The smell of sweat and grime he managed to remove but the uncomfortable feeling of suffocating in his own body had yet to leave him.

Citadel Adbar was bustling, a network of roads and lanes and alleys that were a hive of activity. It was the first time Diath had left the relative safety of the inn since the incident with the fire giants at Ironslag… he toyed with a glove covered hand, focusing on the soft scrape of leather against leather. He didn’t want to think about it.

As he walked down the street he could feel eyes on him from every angle, everywhere he looked there were dwarvish faces, bodies lingering near and bumping into them. Some smiled when they made eye contact, big beaming grins for a brave-looking adventurer. If they knew what he’d done…

How many of them he’d let burn in those flames.

How stupid he’d been.

Would he be the brave adventurer then?

His stomach knotted so tightly he thought he would retch, working his teeth at his bottom lip instead. The internal panic began to settle in, ebbing from chest until it began to consume him whole. How many of them knew? Were some of them waiting for family members, friends, lovers, who would never come home? They hated him. They all knew and they loathed him for it. The smiles became sneers in his mind, the bright eyes to cold glares.

They all knew. He wasn’t sure how. But they all knew.

Diath Woodrow was a murderer.

He had to leave.

He didn’t care where he went just as long as it wasn’t on this road. Strix and her pastries were barely even a thought at this point as his mind screamed at him to get out, get out right now. He wasn’t sure where his feet were taking him, everything else was a blur, and nothing registered until his back touched the harsh cool brickwork of some wall in an alleyway where not a soul could see him. He slid down the wall with a harsh scrape, sitting with his knees drawn up against his chest.

A wave of guilt crashed over him, dragging him under and drowning him in it.

Why had he opened that damned flask?

What had he expected to happen?

Why had he opened it?

“Diath?”

His head snapped up and there she was, pastries bundled up and tied tight in a starched piece of cloth in her hands, and her face flushed. Strix was breathing heavily, hunched over slightly as she caught her breath enough to continue, “I saw you, you ran off. What- what happened?”

Diath wanted to lie desperately, to tell her he was fine but the weight of burning dwarves on his mind made it impossible for him to answer. He slowly brought his hands to his face, shaking the whole time, “Strix.”

His voice was strained, alien even to his own ears, and something must have been wrong enough with it for Strix’s fingers to brush against his wrist and he submitted, letting her untangle his fingers from his hair and guide his hands from his face. He could feel her eyes on him but he didn’t dare look at her. She would hate him if she knew the truth, they all would, even Evelyn wouldn’t find a prayer to pardon him with.

Out the corner of his eye, Diath could see her crouch and sit down in front of him, placing the pastry bag in her lap. Only now did he realise that they were in a refuse alley, broken furniture and rotting food piled up around them. They sat in silence for a moment longer before Strix sighed, “I know something happened. You haven’t been the same since the fire giant and golem mess. I know… I know you think you’re handling it well but you’re not. We’re all worried about you, you know that, right?”

Diath didn’t say anything, he didn’t even know if he could. His friends were all worried about him… It wasn’t that he doubted her, he wanted her to be lying. If they knew what he’d done she wouldn’t be here saying this.

None of them would be.

“Diath…” She looked at him, held his gaze evenly with an expression of certainty on her face, “You don’t have to tell me what happened, that’s yours to give when you’re ready. Just… please, just know that I support you and I’m here for you if you need me. We all are, even Paultin.” She awkwardly placed a firm hand on his shoulder and Diath was struck by the fact that Strix wasn’t used to giving very public displays of affection, but she was trying so hard for him nonetheless, “You don’t have to feel alone. You should never have to feel alone.”

He found himself speechless again but this time for an entirely different reason. Strix moved her hands away and he found himself aching for the contact once again, seeking comfort, until she unwrapped the parcel and placed a pastry in his palm, gently wrapping his fingers around it. She nodded to herself, “When I feel bad, Stinky and I share a pastry. It may not cure the problem but it helps when it hurts,” She smiled at him, flashing sharp and crooked teeth, “Share this one with me.”

She let go of his hand and after a moment of hesitation Diath broke the sweet treat in half, holding one out to the mage. Strix took it gratefully and broke pieces off with her fingers, eating it bit by bit. Diath watched her a minute before biting into his own half. The pastry was buttery, flaky, and still warm.

About his second bite in, he realised Strix had been right. He felt better, the tension easing away and the shaking in his hands slowing. There was something pleasant about it, eating pastries with Strix in a refuse alleyway. It seemed like it shouldn’t be but here, tucked away from the world, it was all a little easier. He could feel the looming certainty that everything could come crashing down at any minute but it was pushed aside, separated from him. He was safe here. All of that was happening to someone else, not him. And, when he was ready to, he would go out and face the world again.

Strix passed him another pastry as soon as he’d finished his first, taking another one for herself. Stinky at that point, decided to make himself known, crawling from some hidden place in her robes to sit upon her shoulder and squeak until she shared with him. Sitting there in the dirt and the rotting mess, both Strix and Diath fed the scruffy cranium rat until he was content enough to crawl down into Diath’s lap for a tummy rub.

Stinky lay there, chirping happily as the rogue ran his fingers along his fluffy and chubby belly, and Diath felt happier than he’d been in a long while. He even laughed when Strix offered Stinky another piece of pastry which he ate from upon his back in Diath’s lap with a delighted squeak. He caught Strix smiling at him again and tried his own one back. It felt a little wrong and stiff on his face but it was more genuine than any he’d worn in the past.

He knew the sadness and the guilt would come back. That as soon as Strix had left and he was in his room alone again it would all come crashing over him like a colossal wave.

But now he had a refuge with Strix and her pastries. A time where he didn’t have to be the Diath Woodrow that carried all those burdens on his own shoulders. Here he was a Diath Woodrow he hadn’t been in a long, long time. He craved that feeling desperately but knowing that all he had to do was ask and Strix would bring him pastries and smiles made the weight of his pain and misery feel lighter. It was just a bit, but it was enough to keep him hanging on, to keep him going.

He found himself reaching out to touch Strix’s arm softly, fingers curving around her wrist, “Thank you,” He said, “Thank you so much for this.”

She looked stunned for a moment, blinking at him before a myriad of emotions crossed her face; concern, sadness, then finally settling on a soft smile that made Diath feel like he wasn’t broken. If she could still smile at him and look at him like that then she didn’t hate him, he wasn’t a disgusting creature. Her opposite hand settled over his, “You’re welcome.”

They resumed eating the pastries until none were left and Strix was sure that Stinky was going to burst from how much he’d eaten and, as he watched his friend berating the little rat, he felt that things, at least for now, were going to be alright.