lvi. felöt-objer
– Randvi

IT WAS ALMOST impossible for Randvi to make her way through the pews of the church with all the screaming and stomping from the audience. The sound of the plague siren blaring through Ketterdam had struck fear into their hearts, but not Randvi. She had never known the plague, the destruction it had brought. Kaz had, she wondered what was whirring through his mind at the sound of the siren.

Randvi felt like she were trying to sail against the seas current, through a violent storm intent on seeing her sink. She had to meet Kaz and Matthias on the stage to help them with Kuwei, but her mind was on finding Eivor.

And then it struck her.

Kaz had not brought her to the Church of Barter to help carry out his scheme. He had brought her to find Eivor and her vengeance. He was finally giving her what she'd been robbed of so many times.

The boy with no heart had a heart after all.

A body collided with hers, sending both her and the stranger to the white tiled floor with a thud. Randvi felt her arm scratch against the rough wood of a pew. In an instant she was back on her feet, dagger in hand.

The stranger had knocked her from the crowd, out into a walkway at the end of the pews, the shawl that had shrouded her features discarded on the floor. Ahead she could see Kaz dealing with Kuwei, she could see Matthias. And there, standing just meters from her with a snarl on his face was the devil himself.

"Eivor," Randvi snarled, feeling the weight of the dagger in her hand.

"Rúna," Eivor said with a malicious grin, like a wolf hungry for blood. "We meet again."

Eivor stood in a fighting stance. He wore his drüskelle uniform proudly, a wolf pin decorating his collar, an array of daggers hanging from his belt.

"Tell me, does it lessen your guilt when you kill in a uniform?" she cocked her head, noticing the small step forwards Eivor took.

The ache of her gunshot wound suddenly became unbearable. She'd barely had the chance to rest and recover, nor the supplies or time to treat herself. As much as she wanted to believe she was the best fighter this side of Ketterdam, in her current state a fight against Eivor was suicide.

"I kill in the name of Djel and for a greater cause. As much as you may hate it, that's what unites us, sister."

Randvi lunged forwards with a shout, throwing herself at Eivor. Her dagger sliced through the air, narrowly missing him. She barely kept her footing, coming to a stop against the stone walls of the church. Eivor just stood with a grin, as though he'd planned out every moment of their fight. Sister. He was taunting her, using her recklessness and rashness to his advantage.

Kaz would have laughed at her foolishness.

"They'll make me a Jarl when I bring you back to Fjerda."

She barked a laugh. "They'll never see you as one. You may be a great drüskelle, but to them you'll always be peasant scum. You could bring them Ravka's Second Army General and they'd still turn their nose up at you."

It was Randvi's turn to toy with him. If Ketterdam had taught her one thing, it was how to play dirty.

The grin on Eivor's lips faltered, but the pain of Randvi's wound grew worse with each breath. Eivor swung his dagger towards her.

They fell into an easy rhythm – slash, dodge, collide. It was a perfectly timed dance, a scripted performance. And then Randvi broke it, shattering the elegance of Fjerdan honour by colliding her fist against Eivor's cheek.

He stumbled backwards with a groan, stretched his jaw, then spat.

"This only ends one way. Don't make me kill you, Eivor." Her words were a plea from a weak and frightened girl.

Despite what fate may have set in stone, Eivor was still family, the boy she'd grown up. She was tired of killing and destroying.

They circled each other like wolves hungry for the kill. Randvi juggled her dagger, felt death in her hands. The moment she pressed a hand to the ache of her gunshot wound, she knew she'd let her guard drop. She had pointed out her weakness. She'd as good as lost.

Eivor's grin grew once more. He slipped another smaller dagger from his belt. Randvi took a deep breath, preparing to die with a weapon in hand. Then she heard it, the shout from behind her, the stomp of feet. The air grew heavy.

Glancing over her shoulder, a boy in blue shot towards them, hands raised.

"This fight is between you and me." she warned Eivor. "Please,"

Her heart fell from her chest. It all happened too quickly, Eivor's laugh, the whistle of a blade through the air and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

Randvi screamed, a howl that tore from somewhere deep inside her. Jakov lay on the floor, still and quiet, a knife protruding from his chest. In that moment, when she should have thought of nothing but the fight and driving a knife through Eivor's heart, she'd thought of Jakov.

Sweet, innocent Jakov, who'd spent his every breath trying to protect her. The boy who'd never demanded anything of her, who'd saved her life a dozen times. How many lives have you destroyed? Kaz could keep his kruge and Van Eck his fortune. The gods could keep their prayers and miracles.

Jakov was dead.

Randvi fell to her knees at his side. Her hands held either side of his face, desperately searching for the light in his eyes. A raw sob spilled from her throat, her tears rolling down her cheeks, decorating Jakov's bronze skin. It was all her fault. Jakov was dead and it was all because of her.

"You never stood a chance," Eivor taunted behind her.

The ache of her chest became unbearable. She pleaded silently to Jakov. She pleaded to her gods to save him, cursed them for the fate they'd written. Randvi wanted to see his whiskey eyes once more, to hear his laugh carry through the wind. She knew she ought to let him go, but she couldn't, she wouldn't.

She had lost him once. She wouldn't lose him again.

"I don't want to fight you anymore," Eivor said softly as she fell back from Jakov's still body. "Come with me and I'll make sure you're treated well."

The softness of Eivor's words cut through her already shattered heart. It was because she knew his words to be true and genuine that it hurt. After everything that had happened between them, he was still her brother, she his sister. They had grown up together, laughed together. He had been the one to teach her to fight.

"You loved him, I'm sorry." Eivor placed his other dagger back on his belt and offered his hand to her. "Come with me, please. You're still my sister, and I don't want to hurt you."

Randvi stared at Eivor's outstretched hand, then back at Jakov. In spite of everything, Randvi had never wanted to kill him, not really. The gods may have fated it so, but who said fate couldn't be fought against?

Besides, what else did she have left to fight for?

She sniffled, nodded, and took Eivor's hand. He lifted her back onto her feet, his eyes warm and welcoming like the fire that had kept them warm as children in Fjerda. He was the Eivor she had known, the boy she'd called a brother. Perhaps things could go back to how they had been.

Perhaps now her suffering would come to an end.

Eivor stood with his arms outstretched, welcoming her into an embrace. She fell into her brothers chest with ease, as did her dagger.

"But I'm not you," Randvi whispered in his ear, driving her dagger further into his heart.

The dagger fell to the floor, the metal clattering against the stone. Randvi felt warm blood against her body as she kept herself in her brothers embrace. She rested her chin on his shoulder, holding the back of his neck gently, fresh hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

Just how fate had willed it to be.

Eivor's body grew heavy and limp in her arms. She carefully lowered him onto the floor. Crimson red blood pooled around him and spluttered from his mouth. Randvi saw the fear in his eyes, the glassy tears threatening to spill.

"Soon you will be feasting with gods," she whispered comfortingly, taking his hand and pressing several kisses on the back of it. "You will see mother and father once more."

Randvi blinked away her tears. Even after everything that had happened between them, he was still her brother, the boy she'd loved and the boy who had given her hope. He was a warrior, just like her, deserving of peace. If not in this life, he would find it in the next.

"Damn me to hell," Eivor said weakly, his hand squeezing hers. "I don't deserve to feast with gods, not for what I did to you. I will spend my eternity in nothingness for what I have done, searching for forgiveness but knowing I'm not deserving of it."

He could not pass over to the next life without forgiveness for his wrongs. That was Randvi's vengeance, justice for her mother. But she wouldn't allow Eivor such a cruel fate, she would not leave him like this.

"I forgive you," the words were barely above a whisper, but a command willing him to pass peacefully. "May Djel guide you."

The last of the light in Eivor's eyes flickered away, the flame of life nothing but a wisp of faint smoke. His hand grew cold and heavy. The gentle rise of fall of his chest halted. His soul had passed peacefully into the next world, where he sat feasting and laughing once more.

Randvi let go and fell back against the wall of the church. Blood pooled across the white tiles, smudged from where she'd kneeled at her brothers side, staining her hands and clothes. The church was empty now, silent bare the faint plague siren blaring somewhere in the distance.

She sobbed, her head falling into her hands.

She truly had no one. Whilst the rest of the crew were continuing on with the plan, Randvi sat sobbing besides the bodies of two people she had once loved. Her body felt weak, her bones ached and her eyes stung. She feared if she closed her eyes, she may never open them again.

"Randvi?" A voice rasped. Their ghosts had come to haunt her. The voice spoke again. "Randvi."

Forcing herself to breath, Randvi lifted her head from her hands to look around the empty church. For a reason she did not understand, her eyes flickered over to Jakov's body. Perhaps it was closure, or perhaps it was something greater.

She crawled to be at his side once more.

She almost screamed when she was met with a pair of whiskey coloured eyes staring back at her.

Maybe I've had finally gone mad.

Jakov grunted, somehow managing to sit himself up despite the dagger protruding from his chest. Randvi watched with her mouth agape, unable to form a sentence let alone her thought. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing a little, before meeting her eyes with a gentle smile.

As she was about to babble about devils, Jakov pulled the dagger from his chest, nodding down. "It's a kefta. Bulletproof. Knife proof too, as I've just found out."

Her eyes darted between his and the blue embroidered kefta hugging his body. The dagger had left the barest tear in the fabric, grisha magic protecting his heart from her brothers cruelness. Randvi laughed out a cry and threw herself at Jakov, her arms holding him tightly, scared it was all in her mind.

"I thought you were dead," she sniffed a cry. "I thought I'd lost you again. You– damn you Jakov!"

She cursed him. And then she kissed him.

It was gentle, and it was fierce. She could taste the salt from her tears, the excitement from Jakov at having survived. They parted all too soon. Randvi cupped his cheeks in her hands, brushing a thumb over a scar on his skin.

"I'm glad you're alive," she whispered.

"The kiss of life," his grinned, his eyes ablaze.

Now wasn't the time for romance. They had to see Kaz's plan to the end. Kuwei still had to leave Ketterdam, Nina and Matthias still had to change the world for the better. They both rose at the same time, as if an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"Your brother–"

"Is gone." Randvi said quickly, not daring to cast her eyes over towards his body. "He is in the next life now, feasting with gods and laughing with his family. I've said my goodbyes. There's nothing else to say."

Jakov just nodded, he seemed to understand. I've let him go. Randvi feared if she lingered in the church one more moment, she may just fall back to her brother and beg the gods to bring him back.

"Matthias will be waiting for you by the boat. We should go, now."

And then they were making their way through the church and out the large double doors. Randvi could feel her brothers drying blood staining her hands and face. A reminder of the burden she would now carry.

But something greater waited for her. She may have lost one brother, but Matthias stood waiting for her with welcome arms. Her real brother.

Nothing could take him from her.