The thunder of galloping hooves rolled through the northern gates of Minht, pulling heads from every task the Blue Hearts had been buried in. One after another, soldiers abandoned their work as Captain Odessa led the charge. Clad once more in brilliant armor, she emerged from the fading grip of winter like a figure the cold itself had refused to claim.
Hope spread faster than the riders. It raced through the ranks as the Blue Hearts fell in behind them, climbing the hill while whispers of what awaited their captain passed from soldier to soldier. The people of Minht watched in confusion, unaware of what had stirred an entire army. Perhaps, they wondered, an Evokian force had finally come to free them from their newest oppressors.
From the ridge, Turik spotted the approaching riders. Although nearly every Blue Heart had abandoned their posts to witness what was about to unfold, he found himself smiling at the sight of an old friend returning to the front. He nudged Broc with his elbow.
"No hard feelings, right?" Turik asked.
Broc answered with nothing more than a grunt, his eyes settling on Odessa as she rode toward them.
"We had to get her out of that room, Broc. Just look at her. Back in full gear already." Turik continued.
Broc's expression never softened. Before Odessa reached them, he turned away and quietly returned to where his men stood waiting, putting just enough distance between them that no one could mistake it for coincidence, yet few would think to question it.
"Captain." Turik snapped into a salute, unable to hide the grin stretching across his face. "Wonderful of you to join us."
"Where is it?" Odessa asked as her boots struck the half-frozen ground as she dismounted.
Turik pointed toward the cave's black entrance. "In there."
Odessa's eyes settled on the darkness. "Are you sure it's the Red Dragon?"
"There isn't a doubt. It's him, Dess." Turik nodded his head to seal the confirmation.
Silence settled between them.
Odessa studied the mouth of the cave as though measuring every possible outcome before the first step had been taken. The wind tugged at the edges of her cloak while the gathered soldiers waited behind her, their conversations fading into an uneasy hush. At last, the corner of her mouth lifted.
"Well then..." Her gaze never left the darkness. "Introduce us, Commander."
Turik gave a single nod and turned toward the cave. "Our deal still stands."
The Blue Hearts gathered along the hillside fell silent. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the mouth of the cave, every breath held as they waited for an answer from the darkness.
For a long moment, only the wind answered.
Then a voice drifted from within.
"It sounds…like you brought more than just your captain…"
A ripple moved through the crowd. Some soldiers instinctively straightened while others exchanged uneasy glances. Hearing the Red Dragon's voice was enough to remind everyone why they had climbed the hill.
Turik folded his arms and raised his voice toward the cave. "Just a couple of the boys who wanted to witness the Red Dragon in action. Our deal still stands. Defeat our captain, and we'll allow you to walk free. A legal duel for the integrity of her ancient relic."
Silence reclaimed the hilltop.
The waiting became its own kind of pressure. Even the horses shifted uneasily behind the gathered soldiers.
"You have my word." Odessa's voice broke the stillness as she stepped forward, her eyes never leaving the darkness ahead.
A figure finally emerged.
Only part of him crossed into the daylight, just enough for the crowd to make out the broad silhouette standing beneath the cave's shadow. His face remained hidden, but his attention settled immediately on Odessa. The craftsmanship of her armor left little room for doubt.
"You brought me a woman," Tyrus said.
Odessa studied the man in return, searching for anything familiar beneath the shadows. Whatever face had once belonged to the Red Dragon had been swallowed by months and darkness. There was nothing she recognized.
Turik answered before she could. "We brought you our captain."
“ We will not fight a woman." The words came without hesitation, stripped of anger and almost dismissive. "Her position means nothing to us." Tyrus retreated a single step, allowing the darkness to reclaim him.
Several Blue Hearts shifted uncomfortably. Quiet murmurs drifted through the crowd before quickly dying again.
"At this point, you have no choice." Odessa advanced without the slightest pause, closing the distance to the cave.
The darkness answered. Tyrus moved with startling speed. Steel flashed as the Dragon's edge swept across her path, stopping only inches from her armor. The blade barred the entrance, forcing the gathered soldiers to tense as hands instinctively drifted toward their own weapons.
"Get…out…of…here…" Tyrus growled.
The growl echoed from the cave, low enough to send a chill through the hillside. Odessa never flinched. Her gaze remained fixed on the blade, as though she had already decided there was only one way this meeting would end.
Odessa accelerated and slammed the iron plate strapped to her forearm against the Dragon's edge, forcing the blade aside just enough to slip through the narrow passage. She brushed past Tyrus before he could react, her shoulder striking his as she crossed behind him. His free hand shot back automatically, searching for her, but she twisted away. A sharp kick caught the back of his leg, followed by both hands driving into his shoulders.
The shove sent Tyrus stumbling from the cave. He rolled across the half-frozen ground, recovering almost instantly as years of instinct carried him back to his feet. Only then did he notice them.
Blue Hearts. Dozens. Then Dozens more. The hillside had become an arena, every soldier standing shoulder to shoulder in complete silence. No one spoke. No one moved. Every eye remained fixed on the two warriors standing at its center.
Tyrus slowly turned back toward Odessa.
"Gentlemen." Odessa peeled off her riding gloves one finger at a time, tossing them aside with deliberate calm. "The Red Dragon." She unfastened the shield from her back and drove its edge deep into the half-frozen earth beside her. The impact echoed across the hill. Resting one hand against its face, she lowered her head for only a heartbeat, whispering a prayer beneath her breath before lifting her eyes to meet Tyrus once more.
He stared back, unable to hide the confusion behind his guarded posture. "COWARDS!" His voice carried over the gathered soldiers. "I will fight this entire army before I lay a hand on this woman! Whereisyour honor!?"
Not a single Blue Heart answered.
Odessa drew her sword instead. "Enough hesitating." She closed the distance.
Tyrus tightened his grip on the Dragon but made no move to attack. "We are not going to fight you. It is not right…"
"Then put the blade down..." Odessa's sword flashed toward his neck. "...and allow me to rip your head off!"
Steel exploded against steel.
Tyrus caught the strike and yielded a single step. Odessa never gave him another moment. She drove him backward beneath a relentless series of blows, every clash ringing across the hillside. He answered with a crushing swing meant to tear the sword from her grasp, but Odessa's hands held firm. She spun with the recoil and crashed the back of her iron-clad gauntlet across his face.
The crack drew an audible reaction from the watching soldiers.
Tyrus staggered, more surprised than hurt.
Odessa was already coming again.
"We will kill you if you continue this." The warning barely left his mouth before Odessa attacked again.
Their blades locked between them. For a brief moment, neither yielded.
Then Tyrus surged forward.
Raw strength overwhelmed technique as Odessa lost her footing, sliding backward through the frozen dirt. Tyrus followed with a heavy punch that snapped her head aside before reaching for her sword arm.
Instead, her knee buried itself into his abdomen. Air burst from his lungs. The grip vanished. Both fighters retreated several paces, circling one another as the crowd watched in complete silence.
Odessa wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "Are you done fucking around?"
Across from her, Tyrus straightened. Slowly, he raised the Dragon. Taking the situation more seriously, he accepted the duel.
A smile spread across Odessa's bruised face. "Good." She launched herself forward.
The pace changed immediately.
Their blades became a blur of parries, feints, and testing strikes, neither willing to overcommit while each measured the other's rhythm. Every exchange revealed another piece of the puzzle. Odessa recognized the frightening efficiency behind Tyrus' movements. Tyrus found an opponent who refused to be intimidated, even as every breath she drew pulled against the wounds hidden beneath her armor.
Without warning, Tyrus abandoned caution. The Dragon came down with terrifying force. Odessa understood his intention before the steel met. Not her. But her sword. She twisted aside as the first crushing blow screamed past. The second followed before she had fully recovered. Instead of retreating, she stepped inside his reach, driving her blade toward his chest.
Tyrus slipped to the right. The point still found flesh. A thin line of blood appeared beneath his ribs. He ignored it. The Dragon answered with another devastating swing. This time, the Evokian steel tore straight through Odessa's blade.
The snap echoed across the hill.
Half a sword spun into the frozen grass.
Odessa rolled clear before the follow-up strike could reach her, coming to one knee with nothing but a jagged length of steel left in her hand.
Tyrus stood over her, one hand pressed against the shallow wound in his side. Blood stained his fingers, but his eyes never left Odessa. "You're done."
Odessa glanced at the broken weapon. "HA! Useless eastern steel…" Her voice carried no frustration. Only dismissal. She let the shattered blade fall before reaching for the clasps securing her armor. One by one, the pieces began to come free.
Several Blue Hearts exchanged uncertain glances, unable to understand why their captain would willingly shed the very thing protecting the wounds she had only recently received.
"Turik," Odessa said without looking away from Tyrus. Odessa extended an open hand. "Blade."
Turik reacted instantly, drawing his sword and tossing it end over end. Odessa caught it cleanly.
Tyrus lunged, hoping to strike before she was ready. He was too late. The borrowed blade intercepted the Dragon with a sharp burst of sparks.
Odessa absorbed the impact before retreating several measured steps, never turning her back, until her heel reached the shield she had planted in the earth. Without taking her eyes off Tyrus, she slipped her arm through its waiting straps. Only then did she settle into a new stance.
A different one.
One that suggested the real fight had only just begun.
The Blue Hearts erupted into cheers, their voices rolling across the hillside as their captain stood toe to toe with the Red Dragon. The sound echoed against the cliffs, feeding the intensity of the duel while neither combatant spared the crowd so much as a glance.
Odessa advanced first. Steel crashed against steel as she met Tyrus in the center once again.
The Dragon descended in a crushing arc, aimed squarely at the shield strapped to her arm. The impact thundered across the hillside, but instead of splintering, the shield absorbed the blow. The force rebounded through Tyrus's arms, leaving a sharp tremor in his grip. He struck again with even greater force.
Again, the shield held.
Odessa answered immediately, slashing toward his ribs. Tyrus twisted away, his counterattack flowing into a sweeping kick meant to take her legs. She skipped over it with surprising agility despite the weight of her shield, but the instant her feet touched the ground, he was already upon her.
The Dragon swept low. This time she met it with the borrowed sword. The Evokian steel tore straight through the blade. The broken edge continued into her thigh.
Steel parted leather and flesh alike before she could fully evade it. The wound was deep enough to steal her balance, hot blood spilling down her leg and disappearing beneath her boot. Even so, Odessa refused to surrender the exchange. With the shattered length of her sword still clutched in her hand, she drove it across Tyrus's shoulder.
The jagged steel carved downward, opening a long wound that stretched nearly to his elbow. Tyrus cried out. His fingers loosened. The Dragon slipped from his grasp and struck the frozen earth. Neither of them moved immediately.
Odessa shifted her weight onto the injured leg, testing it. Pain flared through her hip and into her spine, threatening to fold her where she stood. She clenched her jaw instead. Blood continued to fill her boot with every passing heartbeat.
Across from her, Tyrus retrieved the Dragon and forced himself upright. He raised it once more, though the fresh wound in his shoulder made the effort noticeably slower.
"That shoulder must be killing you." Odessa's grin returned despite the blood running down her leg. "How long do you think you can hold that blade up that high?" She let the broken remains of the borrowed sword fall beside her. "Come for me."
Tyrus steadied his breathing. "And how long do you think you can remain standing on that shaky foot?" He surged forward. The Dragon collided with the shield again.
Odessa absorbed the strike and pivoted with it, refusing to give him an angle. He circled left. She mirrored him.
He shifted right.
The shield followed.
Every opening he believed he'd created disappeared before he could exploit it. Their movements became strangely fluid, almost graceful despite the violence behind every exchange. Each adjustment drew another, each step answered before it was completed, until the rhythm between them resembled something practiced rather than improvised.
Frustration finally overtook patience. Without warning, Tyrus released the Dragon. Both hands seized the shield. With a powerful shove, he drove straight through Odessa's guard, overwhelming her footing and throwing her hard onto her back. He immediately raised his boot.
Odessa answered with the shield. The impact rang through the steel as his stomp glanced away. She rolled clear before he could strike again, but Tyrus stayed on her relentlessly. Odessa pushed herself upward, only for the gash in her thigh to betray her. Pain buckled her leg beneath her. She cried out.
Tyrus saw it. He lashed out with a brutal kick aimed directly at the injured limb.
Odessa caught his leg. Using his own momentum, she twisted sharply. The ground vanished beneath him. Tyrus crashed onto his back.
Odessa was on him before he could recover. The shield slammed into his face. Once. Again. The third strike burst across his nose with a sickening crack. Blood poured freely as his head bounced against the frozen earth.
Still, Odessa did not stop. She ripped the shield from her arm and hurled it aside.
Then her fists took over.
One blow after another crashed into Tyrus's face. His attempts to defend himself grew weaker with each strike until his hands fell away entirely. Odessa continued, every punch carrying weeks of anger and exhaustion behind it. Her nails raked across his face as a raw, piercing scream tore from her throat, the sound startling even the Blue Hearts into momentary silence from their earlier cheering.
Only when her breathing became ragged did she finally stop.
She rose unsteadily.
Her fresh wounds burned beneath the armor. Blood soaked her thigh, each step threatening to give way beneath her, yet she forced herself toward the Dragon lying abandoned nearby.
She lifted the legendary blade.
A wave of celebration swept through the Blue Hearts. Cheers erupted from every side of the hillside as soldiers watched their captain stand with the Red Dragon in her hands, towering over the warrior who had carried its name.
Odessa returned to him. The blade settled beneath his chin. "It's over."
Tyrus's swollen eyes found hers. Slowly, he raised one bloodied hand and wrapped it around the Dragon's edge. Fresh blood streamed through his fingers as he forced the blade away from his throat. Odessa gave no struggle, she looked on in amusement. Tyrus rolled onto his side, every movement deliberate, every breath ragged as blood dripped from his split lip into the half-uncovered dirt. Somehow, he pushed himself back to his feet.
His shoulder hung lower than before. His face had become a mask of blood and swelling. Even so, he lifted his hands once again. "Not yet." His swollen lip curled into the faintest smile.
"Come for me." He beckoned Odessa forward with both hands, refusing to surrender as the Blue Hearts looked on, their celebration fading into anxious anticipation. Neither warrior looked capable of continuing, yet neither possessed the will to stop. The duel had become something beyond victory or defeat, now driven by pride, resolve, and a stubborn refusal to be the first to yield.
Odessa planted the Red Dragon into the frozen earth between them. The blade stood like a marker declaring the duel unfinished. She stepped toward Tyrus.
He answered with a wild punch.
Odessa knocked it aside with her forearm before he could recover. His leg whipped toward her ribs, but she lifted her own just enough for the kick to skim harmlessly beneath her. Another punch came. She turned it away and answered with one of her own, her fist crashing across his bruised jaw.
Tyrus stumbled. For an instant, it looked as though his legs had finally given out. Then he exploded forward.
His elbow caught Odessa square beneath the chin, snapping her head back before she could react. A fist buried itself in her hair, wrenching her close until their foreheads were nearly touching. Blood dripped freely from Tyrus's battered face onto the front of her armor as his grip tightened.
"Not so tough without your blade." He pulled harder lifting her off the ground for a moment.
Instead of struggling, Odessa laughed. The sound was bright, almost delighted. "I'm never without it, baby." Her hand disappeared beneath the edge of her belt. The dagger flashed upward.
Steel buried itself deep into Tyrus's thigh. His body jerked violently, but his hand never released her hair.
Odessa answered by driving the back of her head into his face. Bone cracked. Blood splattered between them.
Still, he refused to let go. He forced her to meet his eyes. His face had become a mask of blood, fury, and exhaustion. He searched her for fear. He found only amusement. His free fist crashed into Odessa's nose. Pain exploded across her face.
Blood poured immediately, splashing across her lips and breastplate. Her vision blurred as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Tyrus drew back for another strike.
Odessa emptied what little strength remained. Her boot drove upward between his legs.
The air vanished from Tyrus's lungs. His grip released instantly as both hands instinctively collapsed toward the pain. He crumpled to his knees, gasping.
Odessa staggered away only long enough to seize one of the discarded iron plates from her armor. With both hands, she swung. The iron slammed into the back of Tyrus's head. The sound echoed across the silent hillside. He pitched forward into the half-frozen ground.
This time… He did not move, and no one cheered.
The Blue Hearts remained perfectly still, every man watching the fallen warrior, unwilling to repeat the mistake of celebrating too soon.
Odessa stood over him, blood dripping steadily from her nose. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as the wounds beneath her armor throbbed with every heartbeat. She waited.
One heartbeat. Then another. Still nothing. Only then did she finally turn away.
Each step toward Turik carried a faint limp. Blood continued to run down her injured thigh, disappearing into her boot, while the hidden wounds beneath her armor protested every movement.
Turik met her halfway. "What happened?"
Odessa coughed up blood into the snow and took a long breath before answering. Blood streamed from her mouth as swelling crept across her face. "Tie him up."
Turik blinked. "I think the boys were hoping to see some more blood, Captain."
Odessa's eyes never left Tyrus. "Tie him up." The exhaustion in her voice only sharpened the command. "Bring him to West... for identification."
Without another word, she limped back toward the Red Dragon. Her hands closed around its hilt.
For a brief moment, the blade resisted, buried deep in the half-slushed earth.
Then it came free.
Odessa lifted the legendary weapon high above her head.
The hillside erupted.
Blue Hearts roared in triumph, weapons striking shields as voices rolled across the valley. Men embraced one another while others simply stood in disbelief, watching their captain hold aloft the sword that had terrified kingdoms.
For one fleeting moment, Odessa allowed herself to feel it.
The cheers. The victory. The impossible weight of the Red Dragon in her hands. For that single heartbeat… She almost forgot the pain.
Turik watched the celebration only briefly before making his way toward Broc and the men waiting nearby. "I need some rope. Odessa wants him tied and taken back to Minht."
Broc's eyes shifted toward the unconscious warrior lying in the dirt. "For what reason?" he asked.
"She wants West to identify him," Turik answered.
Several Blue Hearts moved cautiously toward Tyrus, giving the fallen legend a respectful distance until they were certain he would not rise again.
"And what is the point of that?" Broc questioned.
Turik shrugged. "I don't think I want to know what Odessa has planned for him. Whatever it is, he earned it."
Broc remained silent for a long moment, his gaze drifting from Tyrus to Odessa. She stood alone with the Red Dragon, the cheers surrounding her while blood continued to run from her nose and soak the leg she stubbornly refused to favor.
"He was a powerful man," Broc said quietly. "I can't remember the last time I saw Odessa bleed." His eyes lingered on the damage she'd hidden behind determination. "Let alone walk away this badly hurt."
Turik followed his gaze. "For what it's worth..." A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You don’t have to thank me for saving your life."
Broc said nothing. His eyes never left Odessa.
Odessa slid the Red Dragon back into its scabbard with slow, deliberate care. The motion tugged against the fresh wounds hidden beneath her battered armor, forcing her jaw to tighten as pain radiated across her ribs and into her shoulder. She bent only long enough to retrieve the shield she had planted before the duel. Mud and frozen earth clung to its edge as she hoisted it onto her back, the familiar weight settling against muscles already pushed beyond their limit.
The Blue Hearts parted without being asked.
A path opened through the sea of soldiers as Odessa walked among them. Faces she had not seen in months watched her pass in reverent silence. Some smiled in disbelief. Others stared at the blood streaking down her face and the crimson trail slowly spreading beneath each uneven step. Every man had witnessed the duel. Every man knew exactly how drained she was from the fight.
No one reached out to help. No one dared insult their captain by offering.
Turik followed a few paces behind, glancing more than once at the blood disappearing into Odessa's boot. The wound in her thigh had begun to stiffen, each step forcing a slight hitch into her stride that she stubbornly refused to acknowledge. Even so, she never slowed.
They reached her horse. Only then did Odessa allow herself the smallest concession. She rested one hand against the saddle, disguising the support as a casual pause while she steadied her breathing. Blood continued to drip from her broken nose, staining the front of her breastplate before falling into the melting snow below.
Turik looked over the crowd gathered around them. "I think the crew wants to hear you say something, Captain."
Odessa lifted her head.
The hillside fell silent almost immediately. Hundreds of Blue Hearts stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting. Some still clutched their weapons. Others held their helmets beneath their arms. Several looked from the unconscious Tyrus bound behind them to the woman who had defeated him, as though still convincing themselves that what they had witnessed was indeed real.
Odessa pushed herself away from the horse.
For the briefest instant, the movement threatened to send her staggering. Her muscles ached viciously as each movement pulled sharply beneath the armor, and pain surged through her side. She swallowed it before anyone could notice.
When she spoke, her voice carried across the entire hillside.
“We are not here because we are lost souls in search of direction! We are not here because we seek gold or other worldly treasures. No! We are here because we were chosen by a destiny that will not be denied!”
Heads lifted throughout the crowd. Men who moments ago had been cheering now listened with complete attention.
Odessa drew another breath, slower this time. Her chest protested the effort.
It didn't matter as she continued.
“We suffer, and we toil not because of the circumstances of our birth or the status of our name. No! The Gods have chosen us to carry their ambitions and desires because it is you, the individual, who, with bare hands, can do what eventhe Gods cannot!
Her hand slowly closed into a fist.
Bend their world.”
A ripple passed through the Blue Hearts.
The words spread among them like a spark catching dry grass. Soldiers straightened their backs. Others tightened their grip around the shafts of their spears. Even those standing near the rear found themselves leaning forward, unwilling to miss a single word.
“It is by no coincidence that we find ourselves here together. We are the best that man has to offer, and the Gods have recognized it! Those of you who have marched beside me long enough already understand where this road ends. You have seen the favor of the Gods with your own eyes!”
As Odessa spoke, blood continued to run from beneath the bridge of her nose. She never bothered to wipe it away. The crimson streaks only sharpened the conviction behind her words.
“It is the unburdened who have been forgotten. Those who live soft lives…untouched by hardship, abandoned to comfort and irrelevance.”
The grin spreading across her bruised face carried something harder than pride. It carried certainty.
“But… Us?”
The crowd leaned forward almost as one. Every eye remained fixed on her.
“We are not forgotten.”
Dozens of voices answered before the silence could reclaim the hill.
“We are chosen!”
Odessa gave a slow nod. The motion pulled painfully at the swelling already forming along her jaw where Tyrus's elbow had landed. She ignored it.
“The Gods can throw the coldest winter, and we will march! They can send the hottest summer, and we will march! They can place the largest armies before us and arm them with the sharpest swords ever forged...”
Her voice climbed despite the exhaustion threatening to steal it.
“And we will march!”
This time the response came immediately. Shields slammed beneath clenched fists. Weapons lifted into the air. Cheers rolled through the Blue Hearts before settling once more beneath the force of Odessa's presence.
“And when the Gods themselves finally grow tired of our arrogance...”
She paused.
“We will march on anyway.”
The hillside exploded. Men shouted themselves hoarse. Some struck their swords against their shields while others pounded their fists into the air, their voices echoing across the valley. Still, Odessa remained standing. Barely. Her injured leg trembled beneath the weight she refused to surrender, and only by subtly shifting her stance did she keep herself upright.
“We will march until even the Gods are forced to recognize that we are not merely made by them.”
Her eyes swept across the sea of Blue Hearts. She met as many faces as she could. Men who had bled beside her. Men who had buried brothers. Men who now looked at her with something bordering on worship.
“We are made from them!”
Another roar answered her. Odessa raised one bloodstained hand, and almost immediately the cheers began to settle. Not because they had finished celebrating. Because they wanted to hear what came next.
“So let us pick up our instruments. Let us work the soil, chop the wood, and hammer the nail. Let us march forward into this new day, because what waits beyond those hills is not celebration.”
She pointed toward the eastern horizon. The simple motion sent another sharp ache through her shoulder. She never let the pain reach her face.
“It is salvation.”
The cheering faded into complete silence. Even the horses stood unusually still.
“We will bleed.”
Her voice carried over every man gathered there.
“We will die.”
No one looked away. Not after watching her stand before them, covered in fresh blood that proved those words were not empty promises.
“But still! We will march!”
She extended her arm toward the distant horizon.
“We will march until the blood of the Emperor has washed us clean. Let that be our penance.”
The words settled over the gathering with tremendous weight. Some lowered their heads. Others clenched their jaws. No one questioned her.
“Over those hills lies Evokia.”
The name alone stirred something deep within the ranks. Old personal hatred. Older generational wounds, and older still, impossible dreams.
“We will march through her lands so that her people may witness what the Gods have already been forced to witness.”
The grin returned despite the blood drying across her lips.
“The time has come. Our kingdom. The restoration of her promise. The vision of what can be.”
Her hand slowly clenched.
“It is ours.”
A pause.
Long enough that no one dared breathe.
“If we are bold enough to take it.”
The silence became unbearable.
Odessa stepped forward. Pain shot through her injured leg so sharply that for an instant her vision narrowed. She planted her foot anyway. Then she roared with everything she had left.
“ARE WE BOLD ENOUGH TO RIP IT FROM THE HANDS OF THAT FUCKING IMPOSTOR OSSIMO?!”
The answer shook the forest. Weapons crashed against shields. Boots thundered across the frozen earth. Voices merged into a single deafening chant that rolled over the hills like a living thing.
“O-DES-SA!”
The cry spread farther. Men who had stood at the edge of the crowd now joined in, their voices blending with veterans who had followed her for years.
“O-DES-SA!”
Turik couldn't help but grin.
Even Broc, standing among his own men with Tyrus bound behind him, found his eyes returning to the battered woman at the center of it all. She stood bloodied, bruised, barely able to remain upright, yet somehow looked taller than everyone around her.
The chant only grew louder.
“O-DES-SA!”
“O-DES-SA!”
The name echoed across the valley long after the last word of her speech had faded, carrying with it the unmistakable feeling that every man present had witnessed something they would spend the rest of their lives trying to describe.
Turik turned toward Odessa just in time to notice her sway. The excitement of the victory and the adrenaline that had carried her through the speech were beginning to fade, leaving only the punishment her body had endured. Blood still trickled steadily from her broken nose, and the wound in her thigh had long since soaked through her boot. Even standing had become an effort. She rested a hand against her horse..
"I should call for Hemlo," Turik suggested, his eyes lingering on the blood staining the snow beneath her feet.
Odessa steadied her breathing before answering. "No. Take me to West. Send Hemlo to the prisoner." She lifted her eyes toward the unconscious Tyrus being restrained by the Blue Hearts. Despite the swelling around her face and the ache radiating through every limb, the smallest smile returned. "We are going to march into Pennyroyal soon. Let us celebrate this victory against the will of the Gods."
Turik nodded and immediately dispatched one of the men to find Hemlo. Around them, the Blue Hearts began their descent from the mountain, still riding the exhilaration of Odessa's speech. Songs and cheers rose from different pockets of the column, but many found themselves glancing toward their captain. She refused to let anyone help her, though every uneven step betrayed how close she was to collapsing. Behind the celebration, a dark trail of blood followed wherever she walked.
At the rear of the procession, Tyrus had regained consciousness. Thick ropes bound his wrists behind his back while several Blue Hearts urged him forward whenever his battered legs failed him. His face had swollen beyond recognition, dried blood covered his beard, and every step sent pain through the fresh wounds covering his body. Still, he remained strangely quiet, his attention fixed somewhere ahead.
As the company approached the gates of Minht, a lone rider appeared beyond the walls. Jenny's familiar silhouette stood out immediately against the afternoon light.
Odessa noticed him first. "Bring the prisoner to the front." Though her voice had grown noticeably weaker, the authority behind it remained unquestioned.
"You heard her!" Turik called over the noise of the marching soldiers. "Bring the prisoner up!"
Broc gave a short nod to the men guarding Tyrus. They pulled him through the ranks until he stood near the front of the procession, stumbling more than walking as they forced him onward.
West guided Jenny to a stop before Odessa and Turik. His eyes immediately found Odessa, and whatever greeting he had intended died before it reached his lips. Her face was bruised beyond anything he had ever seen. Blood stained the front of her armor. The Red Dragon rested at her hip. Looking at her, he understood only one thing.
Tyrus had been defeated.
"Odessa needs your attention," Turik began.
Odessa quietly raised a hand. "Hang on."
West followed her gaze. Only then did he notice the prisoner.
The Blue Hearts shoved Tyrus forward until he stood in the open between them. For several long seconds, neither man spoke. West searched the prisoner's ruined face, trying to find something familiar beneath the swelling, the blood, and the bruises. It took far longer than it should have.
Tyrus recognized him first.
"West…?"
His voice trembled with exhaustion and disbelief. Despite the new expensive clothes, the healthier face and stronger body, and somehow recognizing the donkey beneath him... none of it mattered. Somehow he knew. Relief slowly softened the pain written across his battered features.
West continued staring. His mind refused to accept what his eyes had finally recognized.
"West…!"
This time, Tyrus's voice carried something warmer. Hope. Acknowledgement. The quiet relief of finding someone he had spent months wondering about. Around them, several Blue Hearts exchanged smiles, lingering stares to see what else might happen.
West still said nothing. The silence stretched so long that even the soldiers stopped talking among themselves.
"West..."
The name barely escaped Tyrus's swollen lips before West stepped forward. His hand struck Tyrus across the face with a sharp crack that echoed through the procession.
Tyrus's head turned with the blow. He remained frozen where he knelt, blinking as though his mind had failed to understand what had happened. The sting across his cheek was nothing compared to the look he had seen in West's eyes. There had been no joy. No relief.
Only hurt.
Several Blue Hearts let out uncertain laughs, assuming the slap was nothing more than resentment between old friends. Others simply watched in silence, sensing there was something far heavier passing between the two men than they could understand.
West lowered his hand without a word. He did not ask where Tyrus had been. He did not ask him how he was even still alive. He did not ask why he had left. He didn’t ask him a single thing.
He simply turned around and walked away.
Odessa watched him go before allowing herself the faintest smile. "That must be him."
Turik nodded toward the men holding the ropes. "All right. Take him back."
The Blue Hearts pulled Tyrus to his feet once more. He followed without resisting, his swollen eyes fixed on West's retreating back. His mouth opened once as though he wanted to call after him, but no words came. Whatever fantasy reunion he had imagined during all those lonely months had vanished with a single slap.
West walked past Odessa and Turik without acknowledging either of them. His movements were distant, almost numb. Reaching Jenny, he struggled into the saddle, his hands shaking just enough for Turik to notice.
"Hey, West! We need..." Turik's voice was cut short as Odessa gently lifted a hand.
"Let him go," she said quietly. "We'll meet him there."
No one called after him again.
West guided Jenny through the gates of Minht without looking back. Behind him, the Blue Hearts continued celebrating the greatest victory they had witnessed in years. They cheered for Odessa. They celebrated the capture of the Red Dragon. They dreamed of the march into Evokia and conquering it.
Yet at the very front of the victorious column rode the one man who found nothing to celebrate. Behind him, bound in ropes and surrounded by cheering soldiers, Tyrus could only watch his only friend disappear into the crumbling city.