Page 27 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“No, of course not.”

“Time’s of the essence. If you’re not gonna help, at least run along and fetch the authorities.”

He gives me one last stern look before he turns back to his slab of concrete and resumes his efforts.

I could swear I saw a shadow of disgust in his features as he looked at me. But why?

Thinking that maybe calling the authorities might not constitute as meddling in human affairs, I turn to leave.

But I don’t take a step before I stop. A small sound reaches my ears. It’s the breathy, pain-filled voice of a child.

“Ma… Ma.”

I freeze.

“It’s all right, little one, I’ll get you out of there,” the soldier coos to the child before he resumes his efforts to lift the slab of concrete.

He’ll never succeed. It’s far too heavy for him to do it alone.

“I want my mamma,” the child whispers, her voice carried by the wind until it reaches my ears. I doubt humans can hear that. But I do. And what’s more concerning is the way I react to that hopeless sound.

I should be able to turn my back on this and leave. Human tragedy is everywhere. This is war, after all. I cannot help everyone.

But you could help that little child, my inner voice tells me.

Can I?

It’s against the rules. I will surely be punished for it if I do.

Mortals die every day. Children die every day. It’s nothing new.

I take a step forward.

A loud bang erupts in the air and I swivel.

The soldier lost his grip on the slab of concrete and it slammed against the rest of the rubble, emitting a loud thud.

He’s breathing hard. The growing fire nearby illuminates his face, and I can see the wildness in his eyes as he tries to save what may not be salvageable.

It’s…honorable. But also useless.

Why do humans exert so much energy to avoid something that’s unavoidable? Why do they try time and time again when it is all in vain?

In my time here, I’ve heard about the Blitz and I’ve seen the destruction firsthand. This type of attack is not new, nor is the loss of life.

Thousands, if not more, lost their lives in that bombardment. Tens of buildings were destroyed.

It is all part of war.

If humans are so concerned about preserving life, then why wage war in the first place?

It is paradoxical.

The soldier slowly turns to me.

His green eyes are full of anguish and something else, an ineffable emotion that tugs at my heartstrings.

And that’s when I realize my own shortcoming. I might pride myself on being a good warrior, a good Aperite, but at the end of the day, even I am moved by the same basic emotions.

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