Killing someone in self-defense or in order to save someone was one thing, murdering a helpless weakling was another. Back then, in the frenzy of the battle, everything had seemed to be black or white to Tista. There were only enemies or friends.
Once Tista had calmed down, however, she had been assaulted by the shades of grey.
"How are you doing, sis?" Lith asked, feeling guilty for having ignored her and Raaz until that moment.
"Like crap." She sighed. "If not for Grandma, I would've already become addicted to sleeping potions. Gods, Lith, how can you live with all the lives you have taken?"
"Like this." He embraced Tista, kissing her on the forehead. "I've killed ever since I was a child, but I regret none of it. It was because I hunted animals that I could feed you and give you warm clothes.
"It was because I hunted criminals that I had enough money to fix the house. I never think about those who I killed, only about what I obtained by doing it. Like saving Dad. Were I to have doubts or arrived even one second later just to spare someone, he would be dead and I'd have regretted it forever."
Tista looked at their father playing cards with Trion and for a moment, she imagined them both as Demons. Raaz lingering after his death to still be with his family, neither alive nor dead.
A shiver ran down her spine, making a dreadful cold flood her body despite the heat of the Desert. She held Lith tighter, using his warmth and the echo of his words to shrug off the chilly touch of death.
...
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