“Shut up!” She clenched her fists, refusing to listen to his poison. She was here to protect the Sixth Legion—to protect her new family from the threat of the Northerners, who attacked the Empire every winter. She fought for Dorias, to make him proud, and to keep everyone she cared for safe.
The Northerner grinned, as if seeing straight through her. “You cannot win.”
She raised her sword, ready for his next move. “I’m stronger than you.”
“Maybe. But until you accept the truth of who you are, you cannot beat me.” His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring her to unravel the mystery buried inside herself.
Katell’s patience snapped. With a sharp click of her tongue, she charged, desperate to silence the doubt plaguing her mind. She aimed for his shoulder, but he moved with surprising agility, slipping beneath her blade.
His axe plunged into her abdomen, tearing through breastplate, skin, and muscle.
Katell gasped. Shock and white-hot pain exploded through her. Blood poured from the wound, pooling beneath her knees. With a sharp tug, the giant yanked his weapon free, and she collapsed, clutching her stomach with both hands, the warmth of her insides spilling out.
Behind her, muffled voices echoed—comrades calling her name, their magic prickling her senses as they worked to dismantle the burning barricade. But those sounds were swallowed by the roaring fire of agony and the crushing weight of defeat pressing down on her.
The Northerner filled her vision. The first opponent who’d bested her in a very long time.
A demigod, he’d called himself.
Now, he stood ready to deliver the killing blow.
Dizziness clawed at her vision, and strength drained from her limbs. Blood slipped away faster than her healing Gift could mend, leaving her vulnerable.
The giant’s grin widened. “Hold your sword, warrior, and I will grant you an honourable death.”
She glanced at the Rasennan blade lying on the frozen ground beside her. She didn’t even remember dropping it. With a blood-slick hand, she closed her fingers around the pommel and pulled herself upright, settling on her knees. Pain screamed through her body, and black flecks swam at the edges of her vision.
Above her, the Northerner’s axe rose high—but she didn’t look at him.
Instead, she looked to the sky beyond the canopy. The clouds had parted just enough to reveal a fiery sunset, terrible and beautiful all at once. Red streaks slashed across the sky, triggering memories of another time. She recalled leaning against a crooked sheep pen, watching the vast steppe beyond, as a similar blood-red sky bled across the horizon.
Kat…A voice surfaced in her mind.Are you sure you can do this?
Leywani.
Her thoughts drifted to Camp Bessi, to her friend Leywani, and then to Alena, as they often did when she was on the brink ofexhaustion. Where was her sister now? Who was there to protect her?
A knot formed in her chest. If she died here, would Alena ever know what had become of her?
She imagined her sister tracing her steps, confronting the Sixth Legion with fierce determination. She could see it now—the moment one of the Black Helmets, perhaps Dorias or Pinaria, delivered the terrible news.
Katell’s heart clenched. The image of Alena’s face crumpling and her spirit breaking struck harder than any blade.
Tears stung her eyes. “Forgive me, little star,” she murmured in her Freefolk tongue.
Heat engulfed her.
It bloomed out of nowhere, a furnace wrapping around her. Light flared before her eyes, and in the next breath, a cyclone of fire erupted, swallowing the Northerner whole. His wild screams pierced the air before drowning beneath the blaze’s roar.
Flames licked over her skin—but did not burn.
Katell let out a trembling breath. Her lips curled into a smile.
Dorias.
With the last of her strength, she strained to catch a glimpse of the Sixth Legate, emerging through the smoke like a vengeful god, his face carved with fury.
She reached for him, but her strength gave out, and she collapsed into the snow.
