A few steps past the gate, the wounded man’s legs gave out.
One of the men holding him cursed and hauled harder on his shoulder. The other reached for his waist, but the man’s left boot folded sideways and his weight dropped between them.
Averik moved first.
He caught a fistful of coat at the man’s chest and took the falling weight against his forearm. The impact barely shifted him. Up close, the man smelled of sweat, old blood, wet wool, and the sharp mineral cold that clung to people after too many hours beyond Vardel’s walls.
His sleeve dragged back in the struggle.
Pale cyan had begun to spread beneath the skin around a torn left forearm. A crust of rime feathered the edge of the blood-stiff cloth wrapped around it. Averik had seen enough frostbitten hands and split skin in Vardel to know this wasn’t ordinary cold damage.
His whole body locked. His teeth clicked once, hard enough for Averik to hear.
"Fuck... it’s inside." He dragged in a breath through his nose. "Like needles. Cold fucking needles. Every time it bites, it goes deeper."
One supporter hitched his arm higher over a shoulder. "Easy. Keep your feet under you."
"Can’t feel the damned hand." The wounded man squeezed his eyes shut. "Bones too. Gods... feels like something’s chewing at my soul."
Beside them, the returnee stared at the blue around the wound. "That wasn’t there when he got hit. Started on the way back."
Caedren had already turned toward the workers on the inner side of the gate. "Clear the service side. Isolation room, now."
Nobody waited for a second opinion. A cart that had been edging toward the lane rolled backward while two workers dragged loose crates out of the way. Another waved foot traffic off the inner approach. Behind the wounded group, the four stretcher carriers slowed and angled toward the hard-surfaced side of the gate.
A moment later, the wounded man sagged again. Averik shoved him back into the supporters’ arms. "You’ve got him."
"Yeah." The nearer supporter locked both arms around him. "I’ve got him."
One of the stretcher carriers called from behind them, "Where do you want him?"
"Side bay," a gate worker snapped, pointing away from the service entrance. "Keep that stretcher out of this lane."
Behind them, the returnee who had been shouting for space looked back at the motionless man. His mouth tightened. "He’s dead. Went before we reached the gate."
The wounded man was still trying not to fold in half from the pain. Nobody stopped moving for the dead man behind him.
Evelyn stepped close enough that her sleeve brushed Averik’s coat. Her silver-gray eyes moved from the wound to him. "Would it help if I protected him while they move him?" she asked softly. "I can ease some of the pressure without touching the wound."
"Do it. Keep it narrow. Don’t waste Essence on anything the room can handle."
Evelyn inclined her head. "I’ll keep it only on him, Averik."
A clean pressure gathered around the wounded man. There was no flare of light, just the familiar weight of Evelyn’s protection settling over a single body. His next shudder still came, but it no longer seemed ready to tear him out of the supporters’ grip.
They moved. Caedren went ahead, kicked a crate clear of the short service path, and waved them through. "This way. Keep him moving."
An isolation room sat just off the inner gate works, close enough to reach without taking a man who might be carrying Corruption through District 1’s main traffic. They reached it before the man’s legs failed again.
It was narrow and built for function. One cot stood head-first against the far wall, leaving both long sides open. A fixed heater murmured behind a vent near the floor. Dull inlaid strips ran through the seams where wall met floor and ceiling, then continued around the heavy doorframe. Two squat Star-Essence cells sat behind a metal guard beside the entrance.
"On the cot," Caedren said.
Both supporters lowered the wounded man onto his back, leaving his injured left forearm accessible from the open side. Evelyn stayed near the foot of the cot, out of their path, her protection still fixed on him. Averik took the open side nearest the injured arm.
Once the man’s weight settled, the supporters backed through the doorway with Caedren. The heavy door shut between them. Metal struck metal with a hard clunk.
A gate worker outside threw the lever. Stored light stirred inside the Star-Essence cells. The inlaid strips along the walls brightened, ran through the floor and ceiling seams, then joined around the sealed doorframe. A low hum filled the room while the fixed heater kept breathing warmer air through the floor vent.
A small inset voice plate beside the reinforced pane clicked alive. Through the glass, Averik saw Caedren catch another Unit member by the shoulder. His order carried into the room without the seal opening.
"Get Garran. Suspected Corruption from a field wound. Tell him we need one unit member with Restorer and Holy. Move."
The messenger was gone almost at a run.
Averik studied the arm. The blue had crept farther while they moved him, barely a finger’s width, but enough to matter. Another white crust was forming where blood had soaked through the bandage.
He knew the fundamental reach of his Corruption Authority. If the force inside the wound came from something at his own Tier or lower, suppressing its advance should be well within what his existence could impose. Something higher, or something built to resist an Authority like his, would be harder. Maybe much harder. The wound gave him no way to tell which. The better question was why he should bother.
Ice packed the patrolman’s knees. His torn cuff and filthy field coat had come back from territory Averik intended to use, and whatever had opened that arm had been somewhere beyond Vardel. ’Dead one won’t tell me shit.’
A living witness did have value. If the source fell within his reach, Averik could stabilize the Corruption and still let the man die later if Vardel couldn’t repair the damage. That wasn’t his problem. He only needed the man alive long enough to become useful.
Averik looked through the pane at Caedren. "I can slow it."
For the first time since the patrol came through the gate, Caedren stopped moving. "Your Talent’s Tamer."
Averik almost smiled. ’And no Affinity detected. That shitty result keeps paying for itself.’
Beside Caedren, the nearer supporter stared through the pane at Averik. A gate worker gave a short, disbelieving breath. "A Tamer? What the hell’s that going to do?"
His eyes shifted toward Evelyn instead. Her Holy Affinity at least made obvious sense against Corruption. Evelyn didn’t rise to the look. She watched Averik and the wounded man, protection steady.
Caedren leaned closer to the voice plate. "Slow it how?"
"By controlling the Corruption that’s still driving through him." Averik didn’t bother dressing it up. "I can try to hold the spread. I can’t repair what it’s already damaged."
Still unconvinced, the worker shook his head. "With a Tamer Talent?"
Averik’s patience thinned. A fresh line of rime crawled over the edge of the bandage while he watched. "Then wait for your Restorer. At that rate, he could be a Frost Zombie before they get here. You lose a man. I’m not the one who should care more."
Beyond the glass, the supporter went pale. "Caedren..."
Caedren watched the wound for another heartbeat. His jaw tightened when another thread of cyan edged beneath the skin. "If you can stop that spread, go ahead."
Averik moved closer. Evelyn’s eyes followed him. "I’ll keep him steady for you, Averik. Please tell me if you want the protection changed."
Averik watched the man’s breathing. "Keep it where it is."
Evelyn kept her eyes on the cot. "All right, Averik. I’ll hold it there."
Averik reached toward the wound without touching it and let his Corruption Authority settle over the invasive pressure packed around the injury. Resistance met him at once. It had teeth, but not enough.
He closed his control around the Corruption instead of pouring power through the patrolman’s entire body. The foreign pressure bucked against him, sharp and ugly, trying to keep its hold. Averik tightened the domain by instinct, felt the first adjustment come out too broad, and narrowed it before he wasted more force than the wound deserved.
Rime stopped growing. Averik pressed harder on the active pressure around the torn flesh. The cyan beneath the skin held where it was. It didn’t disappear. It simply stopped crawling toward the wrist and elbow.
The wounded man arched off the cot with a broken gasp. Evelyn’s protection tightened around him before his shoulder could strike the wall.
"Ngh... fuck!"
The nearer supporter pressed closer to the pane. "Easy. Stay with me. Come on."
"It’s... still there."
Of course it was. Averik could still feel the Corruption pinned under his control, but the torn flesh stayed torn and blood kept soaking the bandage. ’Good enough.’ Repairing the man was someone else’s job.
He held the hostile pressure until it stopped testing the edges of his control, then eased off rather than turning the wounded man into practice material. "Enough."
For a moment, nobody answered.
Through the pane, the worker who had doubted him stared at the motionless frost on the bandage. The supporter’s mouth had fallen slightly open. Caedren’s expression changed less, but his eyes went from the wound to Averik and stayed there.
Evelyn looked pleased for half a second. Then the patrolman shuddered and she looked back to him. "Do you want me to keep the protection on him a little longer, Averik?"
"No. Let it go. I’m done."
"I’ll stop now, Averik." Evelyn let the pressure around the wounded man ease away.
Even stabilized, the patrolman still looked awful. Sweat shone along his temple. His injured hand trembled, the cyan discoloration remained, and the bandage was still dark with blood. But nothing new was spreading through the skin.
Caedren’s voice came through the plate. "You actually stopped it."
Averik kept his eyes on the injury. "I said I could slow it."
"For how long?"
"Don’t know." Averik looked at the wound again. "That’s why you called someone who can fix damage instead of just holding Corruption in place."
Averik turned toward the pane. "I’m done. Open it."
The gate worker cycled the seal. Light along the doorframe dimmed, the lock released, and Averik stepped out first. Evelyn followed close behind him. As soon as they cleared the threshold, the door shut again and the pale lines rejoined around it.
Under his breath, the skeptical worker muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Averik ignored him. Across the working area, the four stretcher carriers were finishing the dead man’s move into the separate hard-sided bay. They kept the corpse, stretcher, and blood-soaked gear away from the living casualty’s route.
Near the threshold, the returnee who had been clearing the lane lingered until Caedren turned to him.
Caedren glanced toward the separate bay. "You saw when he died?"
The returnee rubbed at his jaw. "Yeah. Before the gate. He stopped breathing on the return."
Caedren glanced back toward the sealed room. "And the arm?"
"Pain first. Blue showed later. Frost after that." The returnee pointed toward his own forearm without touching it.
Caedren nodded once and sent him toward the workers handling the separate bay.
Outside, the two supporters remained on the gate’s working side instead of walking straight into District 1. The stretcher and corpse stayed in their own bay. Nobody hurried blood-stiff clothing, boots, or gear deeper into the district when any of it might still be carrying Corruption.
Traffic in the main lane started moving again. Averik watched the gate recover from the disruption. One ugly return had eaten space, labor, stored Essence, and attention, yet the entrance hadn’t locked up around it. Unit 1 could bring damaged people home without blindly dragging the danger behind them. Useful.
They had almost reached the edge of the gate-side work area when quick footsteps came from the service passage.
The messenger returned first. A woman followed him through the turn, shrugging open a heavy cold-weather coat as she walked.
"Garran sent her," the messenger said.
She didn’t stop to collect a polished report in the corridor. "Field wound?"
"Left forearm," Caedren said. "Blue spread during return. Frost followed. Averik stopped the advance after we sealed him in." Caedren gestured toward Averik.
Her eyes cut to Averik. Surprise flashed across her face before professional focus buried it. "He did?"
Caedren kept his gaze on her. "Saw it myself."
She gave Averik one quick, assessing look. "How?"
Averik kept his eyes on the sealed room. "Doesn’t matter unless it starts moving again."
Her brows shifted at that, but she didn’t waste time pushing. "Fine. Show me what I’m working with."
Averik stepped aside. She was attractive enough to earn another look even in the middle of the gate mess. Her hair had been tied tight for work, exposing a clean line from cheek to jaw. The heavy coat hid most of her figure, not all of it. She moved with the confidence of someone who expected people to clear space because there was a patient behind the door, not because she needed to announce herself.
Averik liked that more than the face.
A gate worker cycled the door. She went in alone first, and the seal closed again behind her.
Averik stayed where he could see through the narrow reinforced pane.
Inside, the woman checked the man’s arm, eyes, and breathing in quick succession. She asked him something Averik couldn’t hear through the sealed door, waited for a weak answer, then pulled off one glove and held her bare hand above the wound.
Warm, pale radiance gathered around her fingers. Averik recognized Holy immediately. Something else worked with it, subtler than the light. The torn flesh stopped twitching. Tension around the wound eased by degrees. The cyan stain remained, but the patrolman’s breathing lost some of its frantic edge.
Restorer Talent and Holy Affinity, then. Useful combination. From outside the sealed room, Averik couldn’t tell which part was doing what.
His gaze stayed on her hands for another moment, then shifted back to her face. Calm, focused, no wasted panic. A useful Talent on a woman who seemed to know how to use it under pressure. He would remember both.
She looked up through the pane and found Caedren first, then Averik. Two fingers lifted toward the door.
A worker touched the voice plate beside the door. Her voice carried through a moment later.
"The spread’s holding," she said. "Keep the room sealed and warm. I can work with him, but nobody tells his family he’s safe yet."
Caedren nodded. "Understood."
She looked back to Averik. "If whatever you did starts failing, I need to know before it runs over what I’m doing."
Averik nodded toward the pane. "You’ll know if it moves. You should"
She studied him for a beat, perhaps deciding whether that answer irritated her enough to waste time on it. Apparently not.
"Fine." Averik watched her return to the cot. Her hands were steady. She didn’t look toward the pane a second time.
Caedren came up beside him. "We can keep moving. She’ll stay on him."
Averik gave the sealed room one last glance. "When he’s coherent enough for a proper report, send it to me."
"Route and whatever hit him." Caedren’s tone had gone dry again, though some of the earlier disbelief hadn’t quite left his eyes. "I remember. If he can give you one, you’ll get it."
"Good." They started toward the Unit 1 compound. Evelyn fell into place beside Averik, close without crowding him.
Along the gate work area, the rest of the patrol’s gear told its own story. Ice had built thick around one man’s boot seams. Another coat had gone white and stiff along the lower hem. A leather pack strap had split where repeated freezing made it brittle and had been tied back together with cord.
Averik followed Evelyn’s glance across the damage. "Your spear stayed home today."
"I left it ready there," Evelyn said. "For a walk inside the fortress, carrying it would only have put it in the way."
Averik looked over the damaged gear. "Before you start taking it outside regularly, I want someone who actually works the frontier to look at it."
Her expression softened. "Yes, Averik. If you’d rather have it checked before we depend on it outside, I’ll bring it with me tomorrow."
Averik looked to Caedren. "You have someone in Unit 1 With Talent, specialist or who can tell me whether a spear will survive repeated field use or needs work first?"
Caedren followed his glance toward the damaged returning gear. "We do. Have it here tomorrow. Let them see the steel, fittings, grip, whatever takes the cold badly before you trust it beyond the wall."
Averik nodded once. "We’ll do that."