Mav relished the cold, usually. Walking around in winter without decent covering, allowing the brisk wind to chill his skin, had always been an excellent source of training. Even nearly freezing waters were the Titans’ gift to Flame Dancers. And the longer he submerged himself, the better his training and hotter his fire was. 

But this cold – where Mav stood before a window of the morgue, looking upon the bags which held once-warm people, waiting for a doctor to present the dead – was something Mav could never enjoy, nor get used to. 

At least he wasn’t alone. 

“He doesn’t have any living relatives,” Maren said, walking back to Mav after talking with a doctor. “So someone from the church will verify the body.” 

“Convenient they brought him to Bishop Diego’s hospital,” Mav said, voice hollow. 

“Convenient that it was the closest one. But they may not let the bishop leave his bed.” 

“Paul’s here. It’d be cruel not to tell Bishop Diego.” 

“Life’s cruel.” 

Mav chuckled. “You know, if anyone died during training... like, a civilian or a...” Mav cleared his throat. “Most of the time, everyone’s humor got dark. I got it, I even laughed at it sometimes, but...” 

“You couldn’t join in?” Maren asked. 

Mav nodded. “Guess that stuff’s not in me.” 

“Like your honor and brotherhood,” a deep voice said from behind. 

The Peace Keeper who’d first recognized Mav hulked to them, his pale face reddening further the longer he looked at Mav. 

Wrath stoked Mav’s heart. How dare he question Mav’s honor? Then again, why wouldn’t he? Mav had abandoned his cohort, his family, the week before they swore their oaths. Guilt wriggled in his gut. How could everyone not feel the same as this Peace Keeper? 

Maren glanced at Mav, then glared at the Peace Keeper. “Can we finally give our report?” 

The Peace Keeper scoffed. “No. I’m finally booting you from the city.” 

Maren placed her hands on her hips. “On what grounds?” 

“On engaging in Peace-Keeper affairs. Something you were warned against.” 

If Mav had to choose who was more threatening in this standoff, it would be the Peace Keeper. He was taller and broader than Mav, his folded arms the size of watermelons, and he loomed over Maren like a mountain to a valley. 

But damn if his respect for Maren didn’t soar for even standing up to him. Something Mav wasn’t willing to do. 

Mav lowered his head. Is this me now? Do I shut down whenever another Peace Keeper scorns me?  

He knew they hated Deserters. Had he secretly hoped he’d never meet another Peace Keeper? Or, if he had, they wouldn’t recognize him, understand his reasons for leaving, or be his old cohort? 

How pathetic am I? 

“We did nothing of the sort,” Maren said, presenting her tablet to him. “We got a job to find someone. The investigation led us to Howin, which brought us almost directly to Serene’s base of operations. Once we realized where this job was going, I brought our client to the police so we could make a report. We got interrupted.” 

“Likely excuses to get involved in our work,” the Peace Keeper said. “Which, I repeat, we told you–” 

“Where were you?” Mav asked. 

The Peace Keeper rounded on him, eyes excited, like he’d waited for an excuse to give Mav an earful. “Don’t question me, Deserter. You think you can–?” 

Mav stepped close, unfortunately having to look up to glare into the big man’s light eyes. “You were with Wilkins’ CEO, right? Not at the station, not in Howin’s tunnels. Where you could’ve done some good.” 

The Peace Keeper gripped Mav’s vest and pulled him an inch from the ground. “Listen, you ungrateful little punk.” 

“Please be careful,” Mav said, holding himself aloft on the man’s wrists. “This is my favorite vest. I don’t want it ripped.” 

Before the Peace Keeper popped a vein, the door behind him shut. Bishop Diego, eyes gaunt, strode toward them. 

“Might I ask why Blessed Siblings are altercating?” Bishop Diego said. 

“Please, Holy Father,” the large Peace Keeper said. “Pay these people no mind. They’re a disgrace to our Titanian Siblings.” 

“This disgrace saved my life at the mines last week,” Bishop Diego said. 

The large man’s jaw clenched. He gave Mav one final glare before dropping him. 

“And if you would be so kind, Gracious Peace Keeper,” Bishop Diego began, “please leave us alone. I would humbly request you get your report after I’ve seen the body.” 

“But–” 

“Please.” 

“This isn’t over,” the Peace Keeper growled in Mav’s ear before leaving. 

Bishop Diego deflated, his shoulders drooping. He looked at Maren. “Please, tell them I wish to see the body.” 

Mav stood by the bishop as Maren went to find a doctor. A minute later the man appeared on the other side of the glass. Maren shuffled next to Mav, gripping his elbow, when the doctor unzipped the bag. 

Mav hadn’t seen him yet. He hadn’t doubted Maren, but he supposed he’d held on to the slightest ray of hope she’d been mistaken this whole time. 

Now, it was undeniable. 

Bishop Diego’s head fell, nearly hitting the window. Perhaps he’d hoped the same. 

“That’s him,” Bishop Diego mumbled, eyes growing red. He cleared his throat. “That’s Paul.” 

Mav and Maren stepped away as the doctor came to their side of the morgue. They remained, steadfast and silent, while he talked to Bishop Diego, who barely nodded at his words. When the doctor left him, he continued staring at Paul. 

Bishop Diego mouthed a silent prayer. Mav prayed one as well, to the Eternal Winds, that Paul’s spirit might soar with them into perpetuity. 

Then Bishop Diego turned away. “If you would, please return with me to my room. I... I don’t want to be alone.”