Iowyn.
The exit doors come up and I hit them hard enough that they slam against the outside walls. Cold air hits my face, and there are fires on the horizon. Orange glow against black, smoke rising in columns over Discord territory.
My territory.
"Koshin." Caius is already moving, his guards falling into formation around him. "War stands with Discord. What do you need?"
"Your people at the eastern edge. Tunnels locked down before Coin tries a second strike."
He nods once, barks orders, and his soldiers scatter into the dark. Renan falls in at my side with his weapon already drawn, and we run.
The streets blur past—Faith territory first, then War, then the edge of Discord's civilian sectors. People flatten against walls as we pass, and some of them are screaming because word travels fast in this city. Iowyn keeps pace behind me, her breathing hard and fast, but she's not falling back. My hand twitches toward her and I don't let it.
She stopped me. She said don't and I listened, and now Discord is burning while Daiven sits untouched in that chamber with his gold watch and his polished fucking composure.
"Tunnels weren't the target." Renan is beside me, barely winded. "They hit above ground. Residential."
My jaw locks.
The smoke thickens as we get closer, and the fires reflect orange off the buildings ahead. I run faster. My lungs burn and it doesn't matter.
We round the last corner and the smell hits first—burning concrete, dust, and something underneath that I don't let myself name. Buildings have collapsed, rubble spilling across the road in massive heaps of broken stone and twisted metal. Fires are still burning in two of them. Emergency lights from Discord's response teams cut through the smoke, and they got here fast, but not fast enough.
The first body is a woman, face down in the debris with her arm bent wrong and blood pooled dark beneath her.
"Sir." One of my captains materializes at my side—Kira, with soot on her face and blood on her hands. "Survivors in the west building, but the structure's unstable—"
"How many confirmed dead?"
She hesitates. "Nineteen. So far."
Nineteen. I was at the Concord listening to Daiven justify this. Letting him breathe.
"Rescue teams have priority on the west building. Get structural support in there before it comes down. Medical triage at the east end—anyone who can walk goes there, frees up the medics for critical cases." I turn to face her directly. "I want names. Every casualty. By morning."
She nods and runs.
Renan is already coordinating with the security teams, scanning the streets for any Coin forces stupid enough to stay and watch. If they left anyone behind, he'll find them.
Iowyn has stopped at the edge of the debris field. She's staring at the rubble, at the woman's body, and she hasn't moved.
I should go to her. Should say something. But there's a man pinned under a beam thirty feet away, still alive, still screaming, and my people need direction more than she needs comfort right now.
I move toward the screaming.
The next hour is blood and rubble and orders barked through smoke-thick air. I coordinate teams, redirect resources, pull debris with my bare hands when the equipment can't get through fast enough. The count climbs. Twenty-three. Twenty-seven. Every number is a person I was supposed to protect. Every number is proof I should have pulled the trigger.
Iowyn doesn't leave.
She finds gloves somewhere and starts hauling debris alongside my soldiers, her expensive Concord clothes turningblack with soot and dark with blood that isn't hers. She doesn't know what she's doing—her grip is wrong, her stance is wrong, she's going to hurt herself—but she doesn't stop. She works until her arms shake and then she keeps working.
I track her location without meaning to. Medical tent. Debris pile. Talking to a medic. Helping carry a stretcher. Every few minutes my head turns toward her before I can stop it, confirming she's still there, still upright, still breathing.
A beam shifts in the wreckage to my left. The rubble groans.
I'm across the street before I decide to move, my hand closing on her arm and yanking her backward half a second before a section of wall comes down where she was standing.
Dust billows everywhere. She coughs, her eyes streaming, and my grip on her arm is bruising-tight. The wall didn't touch her. She's fine.
