West cinched the final knot through the iron chain and pulled it tight until the links bit into themselves. The hound tested the restraint with a low shift of its weight, then settled. Cold breath drifted from its muzzle in slow bursts. Pearl had sent for the snow dogs from one of Odessa’s other ships, and they stood in a quiet line now, lean bodies built for endurance, their stillness more telling than any display of strength.
He gave the chain one last tug before stepping back, eyes moving across the five sleds he and Broc had prepared. The lines were clean, the spacing intentional. Nothing was wasted. “This should hold,” West said out loud.
No response came.
Broc stood a short distance away, fixed on the horizon as if something beyond it had caught and held him there.
West brushed snow from his gloves and glanced over. “You holding up well over there?”
“I am meditating.” Broc’s voice came quickly without movement, low and even.
West let his gaze drift across the camp. Men moved with purpose, checking bindings, adjusting loads, keeping their hands busy against the cold. “Right now?”
“Yeah.” Barely more than a breath.
West watched him for a moment longer, then turned away. One of the dogs leaned into his hand as he reached out, its fur thick beneath his palm. It accepted the touch without hesitation, calm, and responsive. “They are well disciplined,” he noted, more to the space between them than to Broc. “She’s trained them well.”
“Obedience is why she values them.” Broc’s focus did not shift as he continued. “Why she loves them.”
The words lingered longer than they should have. By the time West looked back, Broc had already started off, boots cutting a slow path through the snow without urgency.
West exhaled through his nose and made his way toward Smoli, who stood among his men, issuing final instructions with quiet authority. “The dogs are tied. We should be ready to move.” He gestured back toward the sleds.
Smoli gave a short nod, attention splitting between West and the men around him. “We’ll be finished here shortly.” His eyes flicked past West, searching. “Broc didn’t leave you with all of it, did he?”
West lifted a shoulder. “It’s rope and knots. Nothing worth arguing over.” A pause, then, more measured, “He’s distracted.”
Smoli followed the line of West’s glance, finding Broc still turned toward the horizon. A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “He’s playing you. That man doesn’t go quiet unless it benefits him. Food or women, that’s usually the extent of it.” The smirk faded as quickly as it came.
Before West could answer, movement drew their attention. Odessa approached with careful precision, lifting the hem of her dress just enough to keep it clear of the snow. Even here, in the cold and grit of preparation, she carried herself as if the ground should accommodate her, not the other way around.
She stopped before them, her gaze settling on West first. “Are we ready?”
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation.
Her smile was brief but firm, something given rather than offered freely. It passed, and her attention shifted. “Smoli.”
“All ready, boss.” He inclined his head.
Her eyes moved again, scanning, measuring. “Where’s Broc?”
Smoli didn’t miss a beat. “Meditating.” The word carried just enough weight to suggest otherwise.
Odessa’s gaze followed the path Broc had taken, her expression settling into something colder than the snow beneath their feet. It did not linger long, but the chill of it remained.
Smoli shifted his weight beside her. “Should I go fetch him?”
“No.” The answer came calculated, her attention already moving on. It settled on West with quiet precision. “I was told you understand your responsibility to Pearl.”
“Yes.” West held her gaze, steady but unembellished. “Though I should say again, I’m not much for fighting or—”
Her hand lifted, stopping him before the thought could finish.
“You run.” Her voice sharpened, leaving no room for interpretation. Her palm rested against the hilt at her waist. “If you see me draw this, you take her, and you go as far away. Do not hesitate.”
West followed the line of her hand to the blade, then back to her face. He gave a single nod. No argument, no questions.
“The mayor is a long-standing friend,” she continued, adjusting the front of his coat with a brief, almost absent motion. “We arrive as distinguished guests. I do not expect complications.” A pause, slight but aware. “Still, we prepare for them.”
Boots pressed softly through the snow as Pearl approached, her presence cutting through the tension without breaking it. “We’re all set to go, Dess.”
“Great!”
Odessa turned from them and released a sharp, controlled whistle that carried cleanly through the cold air. The dogs responded at once. Five lines shifted into motion, paws digging in as they pulled the sleds forward, harnesses tightening in unison. The wood groaned, then steadied as the formation aligned.
Broc reappeared with them, falling back into place as if he had never left.
Odessa met him head-on instantly. “Get your mind right.” Her hand struck his shoulder, not hard, but firm enough to ground him.
Broc’s gaze dropped for a moment, the weight of it settling. He gave a short nod, then lifted his eyes again, offering the same gesture with firmer intention.
No one spoke after that. The group mounted the sleds, and with a single command, the dogs surged forward.
They cut across the frozen sea in long, coordinated strides. Snow shifted from soft drifts to hardened plains, the runners gliding over ice that reflected the pale sky above. Wind carved at their faces, but the pace never faltered. The dogs moved as one, steady and relentless, their rhythm carrying the group through the barren expanse.
The horizon rose slowly, then sharpened into shape. Flags emerged first, rigid against the wind, bearing the mark of the Evokian empire. Beneath them, the port stretched quietly and half-buried, its stillness matching the deadened sea.
A handful of figures gathered along the coast as they approached, armor catching what little light the sky allowed. No signal was given, no call to halt. Odessa did not slow. Her focus remained fixed ahead, unwavering as the distance closed.
Only when the line of soldiers became unavoidable did she raise her hand. The sleds eased to a stop in a staggered line, runners grinding softly into packed snow.
West’s eyes moved quickly, counting without thinking. Twenty-four.
Odessa stepped down first. The others followed without instruction, boots meeting the frozen ground in quiet succession. Together, they advanced toward the waiting line.
From the larger group, three Evokians broke away and moved to meet them, their approach mechanical, observant, and unwelcoming.
One of the Evokians stepped forward, gloved fingers dragging back through his dark hair as if the moment belonged to him. “What a sight.” His gaze moved slowly across the group before settling. “State your business.” The grin he wore was not for Odessa, but for the men behind him.
Odessa closed the distance by a single step, nothing more. “Send for your captain, Delios. I have no interest in dealing with his inferior officers.”
The man’s attention shifted, passing over Broc, then Smoli, weighing them without care before landing on West. His smile widened, fed by the quiet. “I love a woman with a sharp tongue. They make the best lovers.” Laughter stirred behind him, low and eager. “I am Officer Icaro.” He leaned in, letting his height press into the space between them. “You can speak with me.”
Odessa did not move back. Her eyes lifted to meet his, then slipped past him to the two men at his flank. “Send for Delios before I kill this man.”
The words did not rise. They settled immediately.
The two soldiers exchanged a glance, disbelief flickering too quickly to hide.
Icaro lifted a hand, curling his fingers in a lazy command. The line behind him tightened, boots grinding into the snow as they closed in. “And which one of your roses plans to try that?” His eyes flicked again toward Broc and Smoli.
Neither shifted. Smoli’s shoulders rose and fell in a loose shrug, the gesture almost careless.
Something in Icaro’s grin sharpened. He mistook stillness for permission. “Arrest the men. Tie up the other bitch.” His hand moved without hesitation, the back of it brushing along Odessa’s chest as if testing the claim he had already made. “I’ll handle this one.”
Steel whispered as several men stepped forward, hands settling on the hilts of their swords.
Odessa reacted instinctively.
Her hand closed around Icaro’s fingers before the motion could register. Quick. Exact.
A sharp crack split the air a second later.
Two fingers bent where they should not be. Icaro’s voice broke into a shout, his body recoiling on instinct. He tried to wrench free, but her grip folded his hand inward, locking it against itself. The harder he pulled, the deeper the pain cut.
His free arm swung, wild and intense.
She shifted just enough.
His weight carried him forward into nothing. The ground met him halfway. Odessa’s boot followed, rising even and coming down across his face with brutal precision. Once. Again. A third time, each strike unfaltering, each one landing before the last had fully set.
The fight left him early. By the time his body slackened, the damage was already done.
She straightened, still holding his ruined hand, then released it without care. It dropped against the snow, limp and unclaimed.
Silence pressed in.
The Evokians hesitated, the line wavering as they looked to one another instead of advancing. No one moved to finish the command. One of the officers behind Icaro stepped forward at last, his hand lifting to halt the others. The motion steadied the line, if only barely.
Odessa turned her attention to him, her expression unchanged. “Come get him, if his life is worth saving.” A faint curve touched her mouth, too soft to match what lay at her feet.
The officer’s gaze dropped to Icaro. Blood spread slowly beneath his head, staining the snow as his face began to swell, color draining into something colder. The man looked back up, tension pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What do you want?”
“Captain Delios.” Odessa’s voice did not rise, but it carried. She nudged Icaro’s hand aside with the edge of her boot. “Bring him to me. Now!”
The officer held her stare a moment longer, measuring, recalculating. “And who should I tell him is bold enough to demand his time?”
“Odessa.”
The name moved through the line like a fracture. Breath caught. Boots shifted. A few men glanced at one another, recognition breaking through their discipline. The officer turned slightly, giving a single nod to the man at his right. No words followed. The soldier broke away at once, moving back toward the port at a hurried pace.
The rest remained where they stood, waiting, no longer certain who held control on the ground between them.
The officer raised his voice, forcing it to carry across the frozen space between them. “You will have to understand, madam, the situation here in Minht is not an easy one. We must be wary of bandits and…pirates.”
Odessa answered by opening her arms, presenting her company as if they stood beneath chandeliers instead of a gray sky. Fine fabrics, crisp lines, not a trace of desperation among them. “Do we…look like pirates, officer?”
He shook his head, though the motion came slower than it should have. After a brief hesitation, he stepped forward with his hands lifted, careful to show restraint. His eyes dropped to Icaro’s broken form, then climbed back to her face, searching for something that would settle the imbalance. “No,” he admitted, voice tightening, “but…who risks the sea in weather like this?” His gaze swept across the group again, lingering on their stillness. “Only the desperate. Or the starving.”
A smile spread across Odessa’s face, bright and composed, untouched by the cold around them. “We are neither.” Her tone softened without losing its edge. “We are here on diplomatic business. I wish to see the mayor. An old friend.” She extended her hand toward him. “Berry.”
The officer did not take it. His attention dipped once more to Icaro’s mangled hand before returning to her, uncertainty settling into his posture.
Odessa let her hand fall, unbothered. She studied him with open interest, then gestured lightly in his direction. “I like him.” The comment drifted toward Smoli without breaking her focus. “He definitely has it!” Her eyes returned to the officer, a flicker of amusement passing through them. “Delios should be careful. I just might take you from him, tiger.” The words, followed by a wink, lingered just long enough to unsettle. “What’s your name?”
“Richo, my lady.” The response came quickly, though his gaze slipped away from hers, desperate to conceal his embarrassment. “Second chain for the band.”
“Then act like it.” Odessa tipped her chin toward the man at their feet. “Grab your commanding officer before he drowns in his own blood.”
Richo hesitated. The weight of the decision showed in the way his shoulders tightened, his eyes lifting back to her as if searching for permission he had already been given.
Odessa’s smile returned, smaller now, edged with something sharper. “Go on. I won’t bite you, baby.”
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The tension stretched thin, ready to snap, when another voice cut cleanly through it.
“Do as she says, Officer Richo. Get Mister Icaro to the infirmary.” The authority in it did not need to escalate to command attention. “Odessa knows how to behave when I am present.”
The crowd parted without being told.
He moved through them with quiet certainty, dark hair stirred lightly by the wind, piercing blue eyes clear and assessing. The red cape marked him before anything else could. West felt the recognition settle into place without needing confirmation.
Captain Delios.
He stepped over Icaro as if the man were no more than an inconvenience left in the snow, his focus already fixed ahead. When he reached Odessa, he dipped into a bow that belonged to warmer halls and better company. “Dess.” The name carried familiarity, the smile that followed unguarded in a way nothing else here had been.
He rose and turned, acknowledging the others with measured ease. “Lady Pearl. Mister Smoli.” Each received a nod before his attention shifted again. “Ah. My little cousin!” His gaze settled on Broc, calculating, almost pleased. “You are finally growing into yourself! Give it a little more time under Odessa, and you might even rival me.”
Broc stayed silent and only inclined his head in acknowledgment, the motion brief and subtle. His eyes did not meet Delios’. They held somewhere lower, fixed on a point that offered distance without defiance.
Delios let the moment pass without pressing it, his interest already returning to Odessa. “So, Captain,” he began, the title touched with quiet amusement, “what brings you back to me?” His boot nudged Icaro’s side with casual disregard before he glanced toward Richo. “I was not expecting you until summer.”
He shifted his attention fully to his officer. “Pick him up. Quickly. He embarrasses us.”
Richo moved at once this time, stepping forward to take hold of Icaro’s arm. The body dragged heavily across the snow as he pulled him away, leaving a dark trail that the wind would soon begin to erase.
Odessa let her eyes move over Delios with quiet precision, taking in the details as if confirming something had not changed. “Captain.” The word carried a trace of mockery as she dipped into a shallow curtsey, the gesture more performance than respectful. When she rose, she did not stop. She stepped into his space, hands lifting to frame his face, and kissed him without warning.
The shift was instant. The Evokians behind them eased, tension slipping from their shoulders, only to be replaced by a ripple of confusion that moved through the line in uneven waves.
Delios pulled back first, though not abruptly. His expression held a flicker of surprise before settling into something vigilant. “A bold way to begin, Dess.” His tone lightened for a breath, then steadied. “If you’ve come for supplies, you’ve chosen the wrong time. Minht is not in a position to give anything.”
“I can’t visit an old friend?” Odessa’s voice softened, but her gaze did not.
He did not answer at once. The smile he offered was polite, controlled, and gone just as quickly. When he spoke again, the weight returned. “There is nothing here for you. Or your men. Only strain. And bloodshed.”
“I’m looking for someone.”
“I don’t care.” The words came absolute, stripped of any earlier warmth. “Not now.”
Odessa shifted slightly, her hand extending toward West with intentional clarity. “This is West.” She gave him the space of a title without naming one. “The man who slayed Dresdi!”
A brow lifted. Delios let out a short laugh, the sound cutting against the stillness.
“It is true.” Odessa did not waver.
West felt the attention turn, heavy and immediate. His posture tightened without thought, his eyes flicking across the line of soldiers, the port behind them, the open expanse at his back. No exit presented itself. Pearl’s hand found his arm, steadying, grounding. He did not pull away.
“Dess,” Delios’s voice carried a note of familiarity edged with disbelief, “you used to weave these stories much better.”
Odessa’s gaze slid briefly to West, then returned to Delios. “This is no story. Providence placed him in my path.”
Delios closed the distance in a few unhurried steps, stopping just before West. His eyes moved over him, not dismissive, not convinced, simply assessing. “Is that so?”
West turned his head just enough to catch Odessa’s eyes. Dark blue, steady, expectant. When he faced Delios again, his voice held, not strong, but firm enough to stand. “I am West. Servant of Lord Omni of the Kesh.”
Delios studied him for a moment longer, then glanced back toward Odessa, something like amusement returning at the edges. “Lord Omni.” The name rolled easily off his tongue. “My oh my, Odessa. You’ve trained him well. He even remembers his history!” His attention shifted again, landing on Broc with a passing glance. “Perhaps you could learn something from him. When he’s not occupied with killing gods!”
A quiet chuckle followed, but it did not linger. Delios turned back to Odessa, decision settling into place. “Very well. I’ll indulge this.” His voice carried now, reaching the men behind him. “Gentlemen! Swords on the ground, please.”
“They’re decorative.” Smoli’s response came without urgency, his tone flat.
“I don’t care.” Delios did not raise his voice, but it hardened. “If I am to accept that the man before me ‘killed Dresdi’, then I will take the precautions required to protect my men and the people of Minht.” His hand lowered, pointing to the snow between them. “Swords. Now.”
Odessa did not look at him. “Put them down.”
The command was enough.
Steel slipped free almost in unison; one by one, the blades were released, falling into the snow with muted thuds, settling into a small mound at their feet.
Odessa tilted her head slightly, studying him with open amusement. “Feel better?”
Delios answered with a grin that did not quite reach his eyes. “All this tells me is that you’ve come prepared.” His gaze drifted briefly past her, toward the empty stretch of coast, then back again. “If I had to guess, I’d say you have men landing along the shore in intervals. Quietly. Patiently. This little performance is meant to keep my attention fixed here.” The grin sharpened. “Am I close?”
Odessa’s expression mirrored his, though hers carried less warmth. “How did I ever let you go?”
Delios let out a low breath, turning his head just enough to break the line between them. The smile widened, but something colder settled beneath it. “You didn’t.” His eyes returned to hers. “I left you.” The words landed without force, but they stayed. “Remember that, Dess.” The edge crept back into his tone. “Drop the games. Why are you here?” His posture shifted, no longer casual. “Our resources are strained enough. If you’ve come to take what little remains, then let us be quick to kill each other now so that we can waste as little as possible.”
“I’m searching for the Red Dragon.” Odessa did not hesitate to respond quickly. “There’s reason to believe it was brought into these territories. By a man.”
The change in Delios was swift, subtle, but unmistakable. His brows lifted, the name slipping out before he could temper it. “The Red Dragon?”
“Yes.” Her voice lowered, intent sharpening. “I want it.”
He held her gaze, measuring the weight of her words, searching for exaggeration and finding none. A quiet exhale followed, his focus drifting for a moment before returning. “Of course you do.” The corner of his mouth twitched, humor drained of ease. “You always did have a taste for cursed things.” He shook his head once, decision settling in. “Unfortunately… It doesn’t change anything. I cannot allow you or your men into Minht. Not now. Not under these conditions.”
Odessa’s eyes shifted, passing over the line of Evokians behind him. “We can pay.” The offer came plainly. “All of them.”
Delios’s response came just as plainly. “What use is gold when there’s nothing left to eat?”
“You know I would never bring Pearl into a situation where she could be harmed.” Odessa’s tone softened by a fraction as she gestured toward her. “We didn’t come here for conflict.”
“Honesty is a refreshing sentiment coming from you, Dess.” Delios let the word linger, almost amused. “It’s a rare thing from you.” He stepped past Odessa, angling toward Pearl with an ease that suggested familiarity he had no intention of hiding.
He didn’t get far.
Odessa’s hand pressed flat against his chest, stopping him without force but without question.
He looked down at it briefly, then back up, something like appreciation flickering across his face. “I always had a fondness for Pearl.” His attention slid past Odessa, settling on her with a thin smile. “She would make a strong addition to my unit.” He lifted his hand in a casual gesture, sending the suggestion across the space between them like a challenge.
Pearl shifted without a word, placing herself almost directly behind West. The movement was small, but undeniable.
Delios noticed. His eyes moved to West, holding there. Yellow met blue. He searched for hesitation, for doubt, for anything that might give shape to the man Odessa had placed before him.
He found none that showed itself.
When he looked back at Odessa, the decision had already formed. “Send Smoli and my little cousin back to your ship.” His tone returned to command, stripped of earlier playfulness. “I’ll assign a few of my men to assist you. You will conduct your search without games.”
He extended his hand.
Odessa looked at it, then at him, the moment stretching just long enough to suggest refusal. Instead, she took it and pulled him forward, closing the distance again with a second kiss, sharper this time, more passionate than the first.
“No games.”
She released him with a small push.
Delios steadied, the smile returning as if it had never left. His gaze drifted past her shoulder, settling on Broc. Whatever he saw there pleased him. “Walk with me, Dess. We have much to discuss.”
He turned without waiting, moving back toward his men. Odessa followed at his side, her pace matching his without effort.
Before she disappeared into the line, she glanced back. “Smoli.”
Nothing more followed, but it was enough.
Smoli gave a slight nod, understanding settling in without the need for words.
The two of them vanished into the Evokian camp, their figures swallowed by movement and muted color.
“West.” Smoli’s voice came low, paired with a brief nod in the direction they had gone.
West remained where he stood, the exchange playing back in fragments that did not quite fit together. The cold pressed in again, sharper now, as the space Odessa left behind began to settle.
Broc’s restraint snapped the moment Odessa disappeared from their sight. He drove his boot through the snow, sending a spray toward the camp as if it might reach Delios where he stood. “To hell with that slug…” The words came poisonous and unfiltered. He bent to retrieve his ceremonial sword, fastening it back at his waist with quick, agitated movements. “He talks down to us like he wasn’t a Blue Heart himself not long ago…!”
Smoli did not rise to it. He watched Broc for a moment, then let his gaze drift toward the camp, where Odessa and Delios had already been swallowed by movement. “Let him believe he has the advantage.” His voice stayed even, almost indifferent. “Men like him carry their own end with them. Pride does the rest.”
He turned then, closing the space between himself and West with quiet intent. “Stay close to Odessa.” His tone lowered, meant only for him. “And remember what we discussed.”
West gave a small nod, the weight of it settling deeper than the gesture showed. He reached for Pearl’s hand, and together they moved forward, following the path Odessa had taken.
“This doesn’t sit right.” The words slipped out before he could contain them, his eyes scanning the camp ahead, the soldiers, the unfamiliar order of it all. “Why tell him I killed Dresdi?”
Pearl stayed close, her voice steady despite the tension that pressed in around them. “It may have been the only way to keep you here.” She glanced ahead, toward where Odessa had gone. “Otherwise, you would have been sent back with Broc and Smoli.” Her grip on his hand tightened slightly. “She has a reason. For both of us.”
West slowed, the thought settling uncomfortably into place. “Sounds like we’re being used.” He stopped fully then, turning toward her. The noise of the camp faded to the edges as his focus narrowed. “Pearl.” His voice steadied, grounded. “I gave my word I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. That hasn’t changed.” He held her gaze. “So… Please… Stay close to me.”
A small smile touched her lips, not dismissive, but certain. She nodded once. “I promised them the same thing.” Her hand pressed lightly against his arm, urging him forward again. “So let’s not fall too behind.”
They moved as one, stepping into the narrowing corridor formed by Evokian soldiers. The line watched them pass, their expressions guarded, their whispers barely contained. Young faces, tired eyes, suspicion layered over something closer to unease. West felt it in the way their attention lingered, in the silence that followed each step deeper into the camp.
They found Odessa and Delios ahead and fell in behind them without breaking stride. The transition from camp to town came quietly, marked only by a thinning of soldiers and the hollow stillness that replaced them. Buildings stood intact but lifeless, doors closed, windows dark. The few people who remained moved quickly, heads lowered, slipping away from Delios’s path as if his presence alone carried weight enough to crush them.
“We’ve done what we can to maintain order,” Delios spoke as they walked, his tone dismissive, almost administrative. “That includes assuming the duties of the governor, for now.” He acknowledged his soldiers with brief nods as they passed, each one returning the gesture with rigid discipline. “Resources are rationed. Carefully. Enough to sustain the current population for another year.”
“A year!?” Odessa’s reaction broke through, in earnest but edged with disbelief.
“They expect the winter to last more than eight months.” Delios did not slow. “We cannot afford a single miscalculation. Every decision must hold firm.” His gaze remained forward, fixed on the path ahead. “If the man you’re searching for entered this city, he would have been dealt with. Quickly.”
Odessa considered that, her eyes moving over the empty streets, the silence pressing in from all sides. “I doubt he would arrive announcing himself.” Her voice returned to its earlier calm. “He could be beyond your patrols. In the outskirts of your city.”
Delios inclined his head slightly, conceding the possibility without embracing it fully. “You may search.” The allowance came with weight. “Under strict supervision.” He paused just long enough to let that settle before continuing. “But before we waste time chasing shadows, there’s something you should see.”
He led them beyond the last of the buildings, out toward an open stretch of land that rose gradually into a low hill. The air shifted as they climbed, carrying something heavier with it. The scent reached them first, faint at the base, then unmistakable as they neared the top.
Rot. Frozen, but not gone.
At the crest, the land opened.
The valley below was filled with bodies. Hundreds, scattered and piled without pattern, their forms twisted, broken, preserved by the cold in a way that denied them even the mercy of decay. Armor, cloth, and flesh blended into a single, unmoving mass beneath the pale light.
Pearl recoiled before she could stop herself, her hand tightening in West’s coat as she buried her face against him, shielding herself from the sight, from the smell that clung to the air.
The wind moved softly across the valley, carrying nothing with it but silence.
Odessa stood at the edge of the hill, her gaze moving slowly across the valley as if tracing each shape, each frozen ruin of a body left where it fell. “What is this?”
Delios did not answer immediately. He watched her take it in, then followed her line of sight as though the weight of it required acknowledgment before explanation. “Governing in times like these is not only about distributing food.” His voice settled into something colder, more emotionless. “It is about enforcement. Discipline. Mercy, when it can be afforded.”
He stepped forward slightly, boots pressing into the frozen ground at the crest. “We could not sustain everyone. The prisoners. Criminals. Dissidents.” The words came without apology. “So we made a decision. Anyone who threatens the balance we’ve created threatens everyone.” His eyes moved over the valley, unflinching. “This is the cost of keeping the rest alive.”
A faint grin touched his face, though it carried no warmth. “I don’t enjoy it.” The pause that followed suggested something more complicated than the words allowed. “But it is the life I chose.” His gaze slid back to her. “And that is what a king does, is it not?”
A quiet sound escaped Odessa, something close to a chuckle, though it did not quite reach amusement. She turned her head, looking back over the bodies, the wind lifting strands of her hair as if the land itself refused to stay still beneath the weight of what it held.
“If your man is in Minht,” Delios continued, lifting his hands slightly as if presenting the valley itself, “then he is here.”
The statement settled into the silence, heavy and adamant.
Odessa did not argue.
“West.”
His name carried clearly, cutting through the stillness without effort.
He stepped forward, stopping just short of her. The valley stretched out behind her like an answer he did not want.
“Go down there.” Her eyes did not leave the bodies as she spoke. “Find him.”
West hesitated, the command pressing against something deeper than uncertainty. His grip tightened around Pearl’s hand without thought.
“Leave Pearl here with me.”
The words shifted the weight, made it sharper.
West glanced toward her, then back to Odessa. For a moment, the distance between them felt greater than the hill beneath their feet. Slowly, he released Pearl’s hand, the absence immediate and unwelcome, and turned toward the slope.
He took his first step down.
Pearl did not let it hold.
Her hand found his again, firm, refusing the separation without needing to speak it. She moved with him, matching his pace as they began their descent.
Odessa did not call her back. Her attention had already returned to Delios, the two of them standing at the crest as if the valley below were nothing more than a conversation piece.
West and Pearl walked into the field of the dead.
The snow thinned as they descended, giving way to shapes half-buried, half-exposed. Limbs lay at angles that no living body could hold. Faces, preserved in the cold, stared upward or into nothing, their final moments locked into stillness. Cloth and armor clung to them in frozen folds, marked by violence, by haste, by the absence of care.
West forced himself to look at each one.
Not quickly. Not in passing.
He searched them, one by one, as if recognition might strike without warning. His breath slowed, then steadied, the rhythm of it the only thing that kept him anchored as he moved deeper into the valley.
Beside him, Pearl stayed close, her grip unbroken, her presence the only warmth that remained in a place where even memory felt like it could freeze.
Above them, the wind moved across the hill, carrying nothing but the silence of the dead.