The cold crept in faster than usual.
Beneath the crumbling overpass, Ember clutched the tattered jacket closer around her, staring into the flickering flames of their makeshift fire. The embers danced like memories she didn't want—couldn't afford—to recall.
Across from her, Ash sat sharpening his blade. His hands moved with mechanical precision, but his eyes—those hollow, storm-ridden eyes—were fixed on the figure lying beside the wall.
The prisoner.
Darian.
His hands were bound, his shirt bloodstained, and one eye swollen shut. Even now, he didn't plead. Didn't whimper. He just stared at the ceiling like he'd already left this world behind.
"You're too quiet," Ash said, not looking at her.
Ember didn't respond right away. Instead, she listened—to the wind through shattered concrete, the soft crackle of fire, and Darian's faint breathing. Then she said, "Killing him won't undo what he did."
"No," Ash murmured, running the whetstone across his blade again. "But it'll make sure he never does it again."
There was a silence between them that wasn't empty—it was loaded. With guilt. With ghosts. With decisions that couldn't be undone.
"He saved me," Ember said quietly.
Ash froze. "He also sold out the Haven. Led the Ravagers straight to our people."
"I know."
"You think one good deed erases blood?" His voice had dropped to a low, bitter growl. "He burned the West Gate. My brother was in the West Gate."
Ember met his eyes. "I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm asking you to choose us over vengeance."
Ash stood suddenly. "We're still alive because we don't let snakes live in the nest."
Darian stirred, coughing. Blood dripped from his lip. "Let him do it," he rasped. "I deserve it."
Ember moved between them. "No. We're not like them."
Ash's grip tightened around the knife. "Then what are we, Ember? Cowards?"
"No," she said. "We're the last line. If we give in to this… we lose everything."
There was a long pause.
Then Ash turned away, flinging the blade into the dirt.
"Sunrise. He goes at sunrise. I'm not keeping a traitor warm through the night."
He stormed off into the ruins.
Ember knelt beside Darian, pressing a wet cloth to his forehead.
"You shouldn't have come back," she whispered.
He laughed bitterly. "I never left. I was just… lost."
"Why did you really save me?"
Darian closed his eyes. "Because even after everything I did… you still looked at me like I wasn't a monster."
Ember swallowed hard. "But maybe you were."
"Maybe," he murmured. "But mercy... mercy makes monsters human again."
That night, she didn't sleep.
She sat with her back to the wall, one hand on her blade, the other wrapped around her shaking knees. Outside, the wind howled through the bones of the city.
When dawn finally broke, it did so in blood-orange streaks, casting shadows that looked far too much like ghosts.
Ash returned just as the light hit the broken skyline. "Time's up."
Darian rose without resistance. "Let's get it over with."
They marched him to the edge of the ravine—where the city gave way to wasteland.
Ash pulled out a pistol and pointed it. "Any last words?"
Darian didn't flinch. "Just this: I'm sorry. For the Haven. For the fire. For believing survival meant betrayal."
Ember stepped forward. "Stop."
Ash turned slowly. "No."
"Yes," she said. "We exile him."
Ash blinked. "What?"
"No bullet. No execution. He walks into the wasteland. Alone. If he makes it, he earns his second chance. If not—then the world decides."
"That's a worse punishment."
"Good," she said. "It should be."
Ash stared at her for a long moment, then at Darian. Then he lowered the gun.
"Go," he said.
Darian hesitated. "Thank you."
"I'm not doing it for you," Ash replied coldly.
Ember watched as Darian walked into the haze of dawn, his figure shrinking against the vast ruin. She didn't know if he'd survive.
But she did know this: they'd kept something alive today. Not just him. Not just her.
Hope.
And in this broken world, that was worth more than vengeance.