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My throat tightened.
Veyr looked at the floor.
“The rest is incomplete.”
“You woke up alone?”
“No.” His eyes came back into focus. “The Veil found me before standard recovery forces did. I was among my dead warriors. I saw their boots, felt their hands on me, then the shadows took me.”
“You held the line until you couldn’t.” I took a breath, slow and deliberate. “What did the Veil tell you when you woke up?”
“That my injuries were severe. That the official casualty report had already listed me among the dead. Time of death had already been recorded. Veil agents found signs of life, stabilized me, and removed me before standard recovery.”
My chest tightened. “They labeled you dead that quickly?”
“Battlefield records were chaotic.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
“And the warriors from your unit? Was there confirmation of death?” I asked.
His eyes went distant for a moment, then his throat worked. “I saw their bodies. Pieces. All over.”
Bile rose in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his left hand flexing slowly against his thigh. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken grief. When I spoke again, my voice came out softer than I intended.
“The warrior you carried out. What of him?”
Veyr's gaze fixed on a seam in the floor. “I asked when I woke.”
“And?”
“They told me he was dead. Said he didn’t make it.” His voice flattened. “I remember the medical lights. I remember not being able to move my left arm. I remember asking twice because I thought I had misunderstood them.”
My throat tightened. “What did they offer?”
“A continuation of service.”
“You mean becoming Ghost.”
“Yes.”
“Did they force you?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
I leaned back. “You chose.”
“Yes.”
