No question.
Lyria steps up beside me, her shoulder brushing mine briefly as she stops, her breath just slightly uneven.
“That’s too many,” she says, her voice low.
“Yes.”
“You knew it would be bad.”
“I didn’t expect this.”
She doesn’t respond.
Doesn’t need to.
I turn slightly toward her.
“When they hit, you don’t stay here,” I say.
Her head turns sharply.
“That’s not?—”
“You coordinate,” I cut in, holding her gaze. “Fallback, movement, keeping them from breaking.”
“And you?” she asks, her voice tightening.
“I slow them,” I say.
Her jaw sets.
“That’s not a plan.”
“It’s the one we have,” I reply.
A beat passes between us, heavy, unspoken.
“Don’t die,” she says quietly.
I almost smile.
“Not today.”
The impact comes fast.
Hard.
The outer barricade shudders under the first hit, wood groaning, shifting, then splintering as the force behind it drives through.
“They’re through!” someone shouts.
“Fall back!” Kareth roars, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The line buckles inward, not collapsing, but bending, bodies moving back under pressure instead of breaking completely.
Good.
That’s enough.
