The rain takes the rest.
The air hangs thick and sour—iron, ozone, sweat. The last soldier twitches once before the earth swallows the sound.
Teddy’s already at the bunkers, dragging away what’s left of the wooden cover.
“People are alive down here!” he calls, voice muffled by smoke. “Go—help me get them out!”
Seren and Lesara move fast, lowering ropes into the dark. Gaunt faces and trembling hands reach up from the pit. Mothers, children, the wounded.The lucky.
Jax drops to her knees beside a boy half her size, murmuring soft comfort as she lifts him clear.
Elyssara stands at the edge of it all, glowing faintly in the rain—her light softer now, but steady. Controlled.
Morrathys staggers toward her, one hand pressed to his ribs. The shadows around him are thin as gauze, but they still move, still obey. “You burned them all,” he rasps, glancing at the smoldering heap of Caelorian armor. “Efficient.”
“And I won’t regret it for a heartbeat,” she answers, voice hoarse but certain.
“Regret needs time to build,” he says, but there’s no malice in it—just exhaustion.
I step between them. “Save the sermon. Where are the others? The Zerynthian soldiers? Varian?”
Morrathys’ face turns grim. And I already know he’s about to gut me with the truth.
“Gone.”
I exhale slowly, trying to contain the vicious, ungodly wrath that roils in my gut.
“Gone,” I echo in a whisper.
“Took less than thirty heartbeats—the Caelorians are unnatural. Inhuman. The corpses of your men were dragged off into the trees to draw you towards your friends in the square,” Morrathys explains, and my fucking heart stops.
Merrik.
Daelen.
Lifelong friends.
Family.
“Daelen and Merrik were valiant. They stayed standing long enough for me to get to the bunker. They saved your people.” Morrathys’ voice is grim, solemn.
Of course they did. Gods among men.
He hacks up a wet cough. “We can’t dwell on it.”
I don’t argue. Because he’s right.
And despite the blood seeping from my open wound, and Morrathys’ shadows guttering after prolonged use, we have to keep going.
Teddy pulls himself out of the bunker, breathing hard. “That’s everyone. At least half of Zerynthia has perished.” He shakes his head in disbelief.Disgust. “And that’s but a taste of their army. More will come. And we cannot defend our people if we’re in Kryntar.”
Silence spreads, heavy and absolute. Even the rain seems to fall slower.
Morrathys breaks it first. “Caeloria won’t send more here—they know we’re heading to Kryntar. This was a forward unit, not their true army.”
I drag a hand through my hair, the truth of it cutting clean through my chest. “We know. They’ll try to get to Kryntar before we do—they’ll want to take the castle, or at least establish the high ground. But if they kill Maldrak…”
“Unacceptable,” Morrathys commands, voice shifting into something holy.
