Sins

**"Sins"** is the eighth and penultimate episode of *The Fatal Frontier*, as well as the penultimate episode of the original series. It was released on November 7th 2020.

## Plot

*The Two Wolves both face their darkest demons, culminating in two battles that could turn the tide of the conflict.*

## Synopsis

### Chapter 1

As the Dark Place burns and the Norn scream and yelp in macabre celebration, Edwards bolts through thick, steep undergrowth, keeping his grip on Lupa's arm as tight as he can. He doesn't care if he bruises her. He only cared that she didn't run back. Run back to avenge her brother, to collect his corpse. Edwards saw what they did to Seth's body. He knew that there wouldn't be enough to bury.

Edwards was practically dragging Lupa up the mountain. If she tripped or lost her footing, he'd pull her straight back up. She fought, cried and yelled but Edwards ignored her. Seth had asked him to keep her safe. He would do that even if it killed him.

Just in front of them, sprinting like an athlete, is Jules, breathing heavily, still afraid and occasionally letting out frightened yells. In front of them all is Kail, the last of the Heathen troop that had accompanied them. Benjin, the other, was probably already consumed by the flames, if he had even still been alive after what the Norn had done to him.

The Dark Place was gone. That was all that mattered.

They reach a denser cluster of trees into which they sprint, dropping down into a tiny clearing surrounded by enough trees to mask the early morning sun. When Edwards and Lupa finally arrive, Jules is leaning against the exposed roots of a tree, breathing fast enough to make himself sick. Edwards finally lets Lupa go and she drops to the dirt, sobbing but no sound coming out.

"We have no time to rest," Edwards says, panting heavily. "They will be tracking us. They could be here any minute."

"My body is on fire," Jules says, breathing so fast his words are barely even intelligible, sick around his mouth. "We're running up a fucking mountain. Actually, yeah, question: why the everloving *fuck* are we running up the mountain? What about our horses? We could get back to the others."

"There was no time," Edwards says.

"How could you possibly know that?" Jules shouts. "They were still in the manor when we jumped. We could have run around and grabbed our horses in the forest."

"I've been in this situation before!" Edwards growls, "Crazy cunts chasing me up a goddamn mountain! But that's not what we're here for!"

"Then what!" Jules asks. "Cause if we run much further, we're gonna get slower and we won't have a hope in *hell* of escaping!"

"That's my *fucking* plan!" Edwards shouts. Everyone falls silent, even Lupa, who looks up from the dirt, her eyes red from tears. Edwards explains himself, turning to Jules. "I've been thinking about it. Ever since you told me your story. When Seth told me about the Dark Place. You crash-landed in a forest. *This* forest."

"How do you know that?"

"Last night, when we escaped the Pale Men, lost the troop," Edwards explains. "Me and Seth saw the Dark Place. From the cliff. I could barely see anything, but the moon had enough light for me to see something. Blackness. A huge swath of forest covered in black, no green for at least a mile. I've seen damage like that. It only comes from *fire.*"

Jules begins to understand. "...Okay,"

Edwards begins to smile. "The Norn attacked you when you crashed because of *where* you were. You crashed near the Dark Place. Their sacred site. You crashed in a lightning storm. A storm that set the forest *alight*. Now think. The Pale Men, when they chased us...they were all over the place. Tripping over each other, over themselves. Cause of what Seth did. He set that *thing* on fire. Their Goddess."

"They weren't chasing us," Jules realizes. "Or at least, that wasn't their priority. They were running from—"

"Fire," a quiet voice speaks out. The others turn and see Lupa, her mouth open, visibly in pain, but smiling.

"Fire," Edwards repeats. "Think about it. The Pale Men are kept underground. Where I was kept. Before I fought the Champion, they injected me with something. I couldn't feel pain. Not even when the damn thing cut my side open. I felt nothing...but rage. But it hurt to stand near the edges of the arena. It burned,"

"The arena was lit by fire," Jules says.

"They burned a mother and her child before I fought," Edwards says, "And it hurt to watch...but not inside. I felt...almost nothing. Nothing but the feeling that my skin was being peeled off my bones. Whenever I stood near the edges, near the torches, it burned my skin, even though they were high above me. Whatever that shit is, that serum...it made me scared of fire. I felt like I was *on* fire."

"And it's worse for them," Jules says. "Like you said, they're kept underground,"

"Fire is their weakness," Edwards continues. "You crashed—at night—near their sacred sight, and yet not a single Pale Man came after you. Cause the forest was on fire..."

"My plane!" Jules finally understands. "It's still there! The wreckage! And it still has fuel in it. Not much, but some."

"A damaged plane, leaking fuel, in a dry forest, near their sacred site," Edwards smiles, "We lure them there, set that shit alight..."

"We'll wipe them out!" Jules yells. "Those that aren't burnt, we can pick off. We'll hide. They won't even see us."

"Without the Pale Men, the Norn are vulnerable," Edwards says. "I've seen them fight. They can hold their own, but they're not experts. There's only one who is."

For the first time, Kail speaks. "The Shark-Toothed Man," he says, frightened of even saying the name. "He's their best. He protects the goddess. We attack Pale Whispers, he will come. More Pale Whispers with him."

"We lure the Pale Men to the plane," Jules says. "And the Shark-Toothed Man on his own. He's more vulnerable. We kill him *and* the Pale Men..."

"The others will scatter," Edwards says. "Their best warrior dead, their protectors burned alive. Kyther will be enraged. She'll come for us, especially if she thinks we're exhausted. Only we'll be waiting."

"Okay. But where?"

Edwards goes to his pocket and is relieved to discover he still has the map he took from the Heathen settlement. He unfurls it and the others gather to look. He points at a marking on the mountain. "There's an old visitor's centre. Not far. And here, a cliff that overlooks the mountain, just below it. We take care of the Pale Men and the Shark-Toothed Man, that'll be the first place she'll look. And we'll be waiting for her."

"There's a road that leads up to it," Jules adds. "We'll be able to get there quick. But so will she."

"Then we'll have to be quicker," Edwards says, "We need to split up. We each find somewhere to rest, wait for night. It'll make the fire more visible. I'll take care of the Shark-Toothed Man. Draw him away to the overlook. It'll be a tough fight, but I need you two"—he points to Jules and Lupa—"to get to the plane. Jules, use your flare to draw the Pale Men, when the sun sets. *Do not* blow yourself up."

"You got it," Jules says. Lupa, however, has a worried look in her eyes, matched with a lust for vengeance. Edwards could almost hear her calling to him, *Let me kill him. Please. Please*

Edwards places a hand on her shoulder. "The cunt had me chained up for weeks. I couldn't remember then, but I remember now. This is *my* fight. I *need* you to draw the Pale Men. You know the area better than any of us."

"Then you take the map," Jules says. "I'll have Lupa,"

"What if I'm bested?" Edwards replies. "You two still need to light up the plane. You need to find your way back if it all goes to hell. There's two of you, and one of me. You two will need it more."

To this, Lupa shakes her head. Jules picks up on it, "She knows the area better than anyone. Lupe can navigate. She got me back to her home when she found me. You need the map more than us,"

"Ok," Edwards relents, pocketing the map.

"What about me?" asks Kail.

"You're the quickest of us," Edwards says. "When Kyther comes, she'll bring all her people. We can't fight them all, even without the Pale Men and the Shark-Toothed Man. I need you to go back. To your people. Get back down to the woods and find the horses. Ride back as fast as you can, bring as many of your people back with you as you can. We'll need all the hands we can spare."

"But...what if caught?"

Lupa marches forward and places her arms on Kail's shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. Kail smiles and brightens. "I can do it," he says.

"Go, hurry," Edwards says. Kail nods and gives a smile to Lupa, before darting back through the trees. Edwards turns back to Jules and Lupa. "This is up to us. You two, find the plane. I'll get to the overlook."

"You got it, brother," Jules nods and holds out his arm.

Edwards grabs it. "Good luck, brother," he smiles.

Jules begins to climb out of the clearing, leaving just Edwards and Lupa. Lupa begins to cry again and looks down at the dirt. Edwards takes her by the shoulder and she buries her head in his chest, sobbing.

"Wolf..." she rasps.

Edwards also begins to tear up and hugs her tight. He then removes her head from his chest and wipes her cheeks. "*You* are the Wolf. The one that will shatter and burn the Pale Men. You always were. Understand?"

Lupa nods. Edwards grasp the collars of Lupa's jacket. *His* jacket. He swallows. "This...is yours. Wolf...to wolf."

Lupa nods and hugs him a final time, before following Jules out of the pit. Edwards wipes away tears and heads in the opposite direction.

### Chapter 2

It took them hours, darting through the trees, before Lupa and Jules found a damaged tree, its roots forming a cage of sorts sheltered from the outside. Jules darts inside while Lupa checks around to make sure they were not being followed. Her hearing is excellent; she'd hear Norn warriors from hundreds of metres away. Sure the area was safe, she climbs behind the roots. Jules has already curled up, wrapping his chest in his arms. He is still panting. "Fucking Christ," he whispers. "We're not far. I can see what he meant. The black trees."

Lupa nods and sits down beside him, her bow and her dagger by her side. She begins to rock, anxious.

"He'll be okay," Jules says, earning a weak smile from Lupa. He looks out between the roots. "We all will." He wishes that he himself believed what he was saying. He was certain that they were doomed. Him, Lupa, Edwards and every innocent person in the damn valley.

Edwards, meanwhile, had not stopped since he set off, running and climbing for hours. Now he appreciated what Jules had said about the map. He was heading towards his destination based on his memory of a not-to-scale map. He finally cannot tolerate the burning in his legs and he plants himself beside a tree trunk, covered behind a dense fern bush. He wishes he had water. He would kill for some expired beans. He rests his head against the trunk and can't stop himself from falling asleep.

Lupa and Jules awake from their own sleep, having slept through near the entire day. When they had laid down to rest, the sun had barely broken the trees; now it is opposite, behind them and below the trees once more. Lupa jabs Jules in the side, bringing him to consciousness, and she beckons that they have to leave. Jules complains under his breath but follows her. They emerge from the roots and look around; in the distance, Lupa could swear she hears marching. Smoke from the Dark Place is still rising.

They make their way through the undergrowth; it seems that every step they take causes the sun to fall lower. Jules keeps tripping—"Not used to hills anymore," he mutters in that strange voice of his—but keeps going, using Lupa's footprints to guide him. They keep as close as they can to cover: trees, low bushes, rocks. Lupa hates travelling in the open. She can feel eyes all around her.

The sun is slipping down. Not long now.

They finally reach a river; below its surface, in the murk, lays a rotting, burnt corpse.

"I know this river," Jules says. "We crossed it when you found me. We must be close."

They cross the river cautiously; they knew the dead had no need to breathe and would happily wait beneath the water. They cross with no issue; they are tantalizingly close now. More and more trees are burnt.

Jules recognises more and more landmarks: a particularly large stone, an isolated cluster of burned trees. His memories of that night are still sparse. He looks to the east; in the distance, shielded by trees, was the overlook. He prays Edwards had made it.

A monstrous yell in the distance makes them quicken their pace; as the yells came closer, the faster they moved, darting from cover to cover. Finally, Lupa spots a line of trees that were less dense than the rest. The yells, echoing all around them, almost sound as if they were inches from them. They make a break across the open into the treeline.

All of the trees here are charred. A few had started to repair, but the woods are truly dead. They break through a charred cluster, and it was then they saw it.

Jules's plane, covered in several layers of dirt, its hull bent and torn by the impact. How he had walked away—or rather, been dragged away—he would never know. Both fuel tanks on the wings are bent and shredded; a layer of fuel has seeped into the soil.

"I'm never going home, am I," Jules whispers. Lupa heard him and placed a hand on his arm, nodding reassuringly. Jules smiles and turned back to the wreckage. "Let's do this."

Edwards awakens. The sun is low, the air chilly. He shivers as he stands, his whole body stiff. He stretches and feels his entire back crack. He works the discomfort from his joints and forces them out by climbing further upwards. He cannot smell smoke, nor see it. If they aren't there, they must be there soon.

He breaks through a line of trees; above him lies the overlook. There is still a climb to go, but his memory has served him well. Even higher above, he can see the visitor's centre. He welcomed the climb. It meant he was nearing the end of this.

At the plane wreckage, Lupa takes over in a thicket while Jules lights his flare. He drops down to the oil-saturated soil, far enough from the wreckage to delay an explosion. He retreats to another piece of cover.

Edwards starts smelling smoke. At the foot of the steep cliff, he looks out over the trees and sees new, dark smoke rising over the trees. He smiles and began the climb.

The sun sets beneath the horizon. Night blankets the Wilds.

From their cover, Jules and Lupa hear footsteps. Many footsteps. The dry forests cracks above the noise of the fire. From between the trees come the cloaked figures of the Pale Men. From a quick count, Jules counts more than 20. The monsters spread out, weapons drawn, whispering in a haunting language.

Jules hears a small noise; he looks across and sees Lupa, smiling, her lighter in hand.

Lupa propels herself upwards and throws the lighter. It lands beside the wreckage. The noise draws the creature's attention.

"RUN!" Jules screams.

The two of them bolt into the denser trees, sure that the Pale Men are just behind them. The smoke gets thicker. The stench of burning choking their lungs.

A massive explosion tears across the Wilds, almost throwing Lupa and Jules off their feet. The trees bend, leaves are torn from their branches. When the shockwave passes, all they hear is the screams of the Pale Men.

### Chapter 3

Edwards finally grips the edge of the cliff and forces himself up, rolling onto his back clear of the edge. He gathers himself and slows his breathing, looking up at the sky. He sees spots, but also wisps of smoke. He knows he is close. He grunts and brings himself to his feet, placing a hand on his tomahawk as he does so. He marches up the dirt path and to a corridor of rocks, stained with old blood. He shudders, afraid. He lets a painful tingle work its way through his spine before steadying himself. As he moves forward, the boulders beside him funnel him into a large open space, bordered at two ends by the cliff edge. The view is spectacular: he can see damn near the whole valley, even the ruins of Haven several miles away, still smouldering.

He removes one of the two flares from his pouch. He lights the flare, setting fire to some bushes beside him. The flare lets out several bursts of red light; in morse, it would have read S.O.S. The fire spreads around him, but it no longer bothers him. He keeps his eyes on the intense fire erupting through the trees, smiling. He hears the pained screams of monsters. Monsters that are no more.

Now, he has to wait. He sits at the edge of the cliff, kept warm by the evening wind by the fire around him.

It is approaching three weeks now. Three weeks he has been in this godforsaken frontier hundreds of miles from home. Maybe even nearing a thousand. He has been on the road a while when he was taken, before he met the bastards at the bunker. How long since he had left? Do they - his family - think he is dead? He shames himself for struggling to the remember the faces of his loved ones: Drew, mourning his wife and holding his daughter tight; Gideon, delivering his sermons in the church, maybe even one about him; the newcomer, Kyle, wrestling with the truth about his brother; Nicolas and his people, hungry for revenge against the Frontiersmen. What if the Frontiersmen had already attacked? What if his people were hurt? What if they were dead? He had never returned with the weapons. They couldn't have held out long, even with the people of Prescott and Fairbanks at their side.

*Currahee*. It was a word he had learned a long time ago. *Stand alone, together*, it meant. He believed it represented their union. Their alliance against a common threat. He had told them all to fight for freedom, for the future.

It was his job to protect them. To lead them. To get the fucking guns so they could fight. So they could live.

He had failed. Now he is going to die here, and his people would mourn before they died as well.

Everything was fucked.

"Stop it," he says to himself. "Shut the fuck up. You gotta keep on, motherfucker. You miserable old bastard. Keep on. For them. Keep on keeping on...

"...*I'm not gonna die here.*"

A noise. The flare has died. There are footsteps. They sound like thunder. He cocks the rifle and readies himself.

Two Pale Men dart around the corner; Edwards shoots them both in the head. They fall to the ground, limp. Between them stands the hulking figure he had been waiting for: the Shark-Toothed Man.

The hulking man breathes slowly, waiting. Edwards readies himself, dropping the empty rifle and removes his tomahawk. He takes a few steps forward, purposely loudly to attract his attention. The Shark-Toothed Man obliges, turning to reveal his entire hideous frame, crisscrossed with old scars both from battle and self-inflicted. In the late moonlight, his ferocious teeth shine with blood. Benjin's blood. Still wet.

"*Mye'Akal*," the Shark-Toothed Man spits, barely able to articulate. "*Unturf aen regan*,"

Recognising the phrase, Edwards replies in a broken version of the language. "*Oohna karin vo vaaraata*," now realizing how much his gravelly voice resembled that of the creature standing before him.

The Shark-Toothed Man appeared to smile. "*Keinin marok, Mye'Akal.*"

"My end is here," Edwards translates. "I remember that. Its what you said to me, over and over again, those days when you tortured me. Laughed as you did it. Even after I killed your Champion."

"*Charnia kan myeel!*" the Shark-Toothed Man growls.

"If your Champion was weak, what does that make you?" Edwards retorts. The Shark-Toothed Man only snarls in response, taking a step closer. Only now could Edwards see the true size of his devastating battle axe.

Edwards paused. A light had gone off, an idea had sprung.

He sheaths his tomahawk, much to the Man's surprise. Instead, Edwards reaches out his open hands, as if to tame a wild beast. "I know who you are," he says. "I know your story."

"I went to the Dark Place. Before you found us, I found you. In an Old World book. I know what they did to you...the men with milk skin. They hurt you. Hurt your teeth. In every way that they knew how. They were monsters, weren't they?"

The Shark-Toothed Man remains silent, as if he is truly listening. Edwards continues. "Kyther...Madeline...she showed you light. For the first time. She made you strong, even stronger than the monsters. You slew the monsters. You did...you did the world a favour. But you have become *them*. Kyther has made you into one of *them.*"

The Shark-Toothed Man's face relaxes. Edwards walks closer, his arms still outstretched. "It's not too late. You don't have to be one of them. You don't have to be what they made you. I know you understand me. I know you believe me. You can still be *saved.*"

"I've tried to save so many. So many of my friends. The people I love. And I've lost so, *so* many."

"I couldn't save David,"

"I couldn't save Ben,"

"I couldn't save Jess,"

"I couldn't save poor Charlotte,"

"Katrina,"

"Aaron,"

"Daniel,"

"Emma,"

"...James,"

He says their names with such force, as if he is trying to summon them here, now, to beg their forgiveness. "I couldn't even save the woman I *loved*. The mother of my child, who I gave up. Who I can't find.

"But now I know...I couldn't save them cause they couldn't be saved. They didn't want me to. Or maybe they didn't need to be. But you *can* be saved. You want to be. You *need* to be," he holds out his hand, "Let me save you. Please."

For the first time, Edwards sees something in the Shark-Toothed Man. His black eyes clear, gleaned by a few drops of tears. For the first time, Edwards sees past the animal. The innocent boy inside the Shark-Toothed Man is crying out for help. For the pain to stop. He can damn near hear it.

In as quickly as it had come, it goes away.

Without warning, the Shark-Toothed Man launches a powerful kick that sends Edwards into the air. He lands, the air completely forced out of him, several metres away. He vomits, but nothing comes up. Nothing but bile.

The Shark-Toothed Man begins to approach. "Kyther...is...light!" he says. "Light in darkness! Sends monsters away!" his voice in English sounded near exactly like a crying child, weeping for its mother. "Kyther save me! Sent monsters away! Now I die for Kyther!"

He stops a few metres from Edwards as he finally gets himself to his feet. Reluctantly, he unsheaths his tomahawk. In response, the Shark-Toothed Man removes the battle axe from his back. Gripping it tightly, he spits. "*Wuonotath, Mye'Akal. Wuonikeith al rana Kyther!"*

"*You. Die. Now.*"

The Shark-Toothed Man lets out a roar and brings the axe down directly where Edwards is stood. Edwards barely manages of dodge, stepping to the side. His momentum is channelled into his left fist, and he lands a punch on the Man's jaw. The Man is unaffected and retaliates with a mighty backhand that sends Edwards back once more. He rolls over in the air, landing with a crash that sends dust into the air. Somehow, he keeps his grip on his tomahawk tight. He hears thundering footsteps and rolls to the side, narrowly avoiding the axe. He rolls away and back onto his feet, winded and already bleeding. The Shark-Toothed Man is now drooling, his teeth gnashing.

*Got to get him tired* Edwards thinks. He roars to aggravate the Man, who takes the bait and starts running towards him, his axe raised, mouth wide.

As the axe lands, Edwards dodges again, swinging his tomahawk to the right as he does so. The blade connects with the flesh of the Man's right arm, but becomes stuck in the thick muscle. The Man lets out a scream, but not of pain, of frustration. He jerks, pulling the tomahawk from Edwards' hands and bringing his own axe with him. Edwards only just manages to duck—feeling the tips of his hair caught in the axe's path—but cannot recover fast enough to avoid another kick that sends him once again backwards and onto the ground. The Shark-Toothed Man removes the tomahawk from his arm and throws it. He travels over Edwards head and lodges into the dirt. Edwards watches its path and begins to crawl as fast as he can as the Shark-Toothed Man begins to approach. He just reaches it as the Man arrives, bringing his axe down with him with a roar. Edwards blocks using his tomahawk, digging the blade into the shaft of the axe, leaving its blade just centimetres from his skull.

Edwards launches a two-legged kick directly into the Shark-Toothed Man's abdomen, sending him backwards and littering Edwards with wood splinters. He rolls over onto his front and stands up, raising his tomahawk to the ready. The Shark-Toothed Man recovers and begins to wildly swing the axe around, its damaged shaft creaking with every swing. Edwards manages to dodge all but one, which results in a long slash along his stomach. He steps too near to the cliff's edge, holding his bleeding abdomen.

"*Myakaret, Mye'Akal!"* the Shark-Toothed Man roars. He charges, axe raised.

Edwards smiles and raises the tomahawk above his head. As the Man gets in range, Edwards throws his axe. Caught off-guard, the Shark-Toothed Man cannot dodge as the axe embeds itself in his chest. He drops to his knees, snapping his axe in two. Edwards does not let him recover, grabbing the long end of the heavy, broken shaft and proceeding to beat him around the head with it until it is reduced to splinters. Unexpectedly, the Man removes the tomahawk from his own chest and slashes at Edwards so hard he lets go of the weapon, dropping it to the side. The strike knocks Edwards off-balance, and the Man takes his chance. He grapples Edwards, clamping his hands around his neck. Edwards struggles and strikes repeatedly but the Shark-Toothed Man does not let go.

Edwards begins to lose consciousness and the Shark-Toothed Man holds him over the edge of the cliff. Edwards reaches wildly for a weapon before he feels the unmistakable texture of a flare tucked into his trousers. He grabs at it as he is dangled. He feels his face puff.

Edwards locks eyes with the Shark-Toothed Man; that faint glow of innocence is no longer there. "Impressive," he growls. Edwards fumbles until he removes the flare from his trousers. His grip is weakening. The blacks spots on his vision are getting larger.

"How is it you are so strong?" the Shark-Toothed Man snarled.

Edwards finally gest his thumb on the flare cap.

"Through *pain*..." he croaks.

He scraps the cap over the top of the flare; he feels heat explode over his arm.

"...And *suffering*,"

Edwards brings the flare over and holds it against the Shark-Toothed Man's temple. Edwards holds it there as long as possible, driving the flame into the Man's skin. After a few seconds, the creature, roaring in agony, lets him go. Edwards drops the flare as he begins to fall, but in the next moment, he finds he is no longer falling. Somehow, he has grabbed and kept a grip on the edge. He pulls himself up, his muscles burning, spasming. He falls onto his back, the stench of cooked flesh in the air. He pulls himself up and is horrified by the sight that meets him: the Shark-Toothed Man on his knees, cradling his charred skull in his hands, moaning in agony.

Edwards feels nothing. Not anger. Not sorrow. He feels as cold inside as the fire around him is hot. He walks over to his tomahawk and places it in its sheath. He limps over to the broken axe and grabs the bladed end; it is rusted with dried blood. How many innocent women and children had fallen to it?

He stands before the Shark-Toothed Man, savouring every groan, every moan. The miserable creature looks up at him, his dark eyes widened, afraid.

Edwards opens his mouth in a mighty warcry. He hears his voice echo all around him. He lifts the axe head above him as he screams.

When he brings it down, all the cries fall silent.

## Deaths

* All known members of the Pale Men
* Shark-Toothed Man

## Trivia

* Last appearance of the Pale Men
* Last appearance of the Shark-Toothed Man
* This is the first chapter to open without a prologue.
* This episode marks only the third and fourth times that Lupa has spoken, saying the words "Fire" and "Wolf" in this episode. The other times were in "*Sacrifice*" when she said "Home", and "Worship" when she screamed "No!" as Seth was killed.

 **Part II** | "Feral" • "Lies" • "Worship" • "**Sins**" • "Wolves"