The fighting in Minht continued to escalate.
What began as Delios’ overwhelming defense slowly collapsed beneath sheer numbers. Odessa’s forces poured into the city in an endless current, swallowing district after district with disciplined brutality. The narrow corridors of Minht became slaughterhouses where victories lasted only moments before another wave crashed into the exhausted survivors. Bodies piled beneath hanging lanterns and market banners. Blood ran between the old stone gutters alongside spilled grains, wine, and ash.
Even victory carried a cost.
Odessa’s casualty numbers rose with every hour. Not enough to halt the invasion, but enough to sour the air inside the city. Stretcher bearers moved through the streets almost as often as soldiers now. The wounded filled abandoned homes, taverns, and courtyards while the dead were stacked beneath cloth beside the roads waiting for carts that never arrived.
Still, Odessa pressed forward.
She had established her command post inside the grand ballroom of the governor’s mansion, transforming the once elegant hall into the beating heart of the occupation. Velvet curtains had been torn down to make room for supply tables and maps. Mud stained the polished marble floors. Messengers moved constantly through the chamber carrying reports, fresh orders, and casualty counts written in hurried ink.
To Odessa, the battle for Minht had already been won. Time was the only thing separating conquest from completion.
Then the orders changed.
The Red Dragon was near.
The Blue Hearts spread through Minht with renewed intensity. Every home was searched. Every cellar broken open. Closets, barrels, crawlspaces, storage pits. If a man could fit inside it, soldiers dragged it apart looking for signs of Tyrus. The city was no longer merely under siege. It was being stripped from the inside.
The plundering had already begun long before the fighting ended.
Evokians and civilians alike abandoned Minht in frightened waves, disappearing into the surrounding wilderness with whatever they could carry. Many no longer saw purpose in resisting. The city had become a grave waiting to close its jaws.
Inside the ballroom, West watched the machinery of war unfold in uneasy fascination.
Odessa moved through the chamber like a storm given human shape, issuing commands without hesitation while balancing troop movements, supply storages, and shifting reports all at once. Around her, officers scrambled to keep pace. Pearl remained near the center table, calm amidst the chaos, carefully measuring the reality beneath Odessa’s ambition.
A rough map of Minht stretched across the largest table in the room. Pearl had sketched it quickly, yet with startling precision. Small carved totems marked battalions, supply routes, wounded camps, and secured districts beneath Odessa’s banner. Each new report altered the battlefield by inches.
Scouts entered constantly, caked in soot, sweat and blood. Some brought news of captured streets. Others carried word of ambushes, fires, and mounting losses. Loot inventories were counted beside death tallies were of equal importance.
Every number that entered the ballroom was exact.
Nothing inside Odessa’s war machine was allowed to become uncertain.
“ODESSA!”
The ballroom door exploded inward beneath the force of Broc’s entrance. Heavy wood slammed violently against the marble walls before rebounding on their hinges with a thunderous crack that silenced half the chamber. Scouts froze mid report. Officers turned instinctively toward the disturbance.
Broc stormed into the ballroom like a man dragging the battlefield behind him.
His armor was streaked with soot and drying blood. One of his gauntlets was split across the knuckles from overuse, and his breathing came rough through clenched teeth. Rage rolled off him in waves so violent even the nearby soldiers instinctively stepped aside.
“ODESSA!”
His voice crashed through the ballroom again, echoing against the towering marble columns.
Smoli huried behind him, already reaching forward before Broc could close the remaining distance. “Easy now.”
Odessa slowly lifted her gaze from the war table.
The room seemed to tighten around her silence.
Broc towered over nearly everyone in the chamber, his massive hands balled into trembling fists at his sides. His eyes burned with something deeper than anger now. Hurt. Betrayal. The kind that hollowed a man out from the inside before filling the empty space with fire.
Smoli planted an arm across Broc’s chest before he could advance further. “Let’s take a step back, big man.”
“Have you…NO SHAME…woman!?”
The words came out raw.
Broc shoved forward a half step, but Smoli held firm, boots grinding against the marble floor.
“Broc…” Smoli strained to keep his tone level. “Show some restraint. You’re better than this.”
For a moment it almost worked. The slightest hesitation flickered across Broc’s face.
Then Odessa moved.
She stepped around the edge of the war table and closed the distance herself without a shred of caution. The nearby guards stiffened immediately, hands drifting toward their weapons, but Odessa ignored them all.
She stopped directly in front of Broc.
“Do you need me to adjust that head of yours again?”
Her voice cut low through clenched teeth.
The insult nearly broke him.
“Delios!” Broc roared. Spit flew from his mouth as grief overtook restraint. “Do you have no respect!? To kill him in such a manner…! Where is your honor…?
Smoli tightened his grip as Broc tried to surge forward again.
Odessa’s expression did not change.
“He was a traitor.”
The words struck harder than a slap.
“Unworthy of my blade.” Odessa took another step forward until only Smoli separated them now. “He deserved nothing less than the bottom of my boot.”
Several soldiers looked away.
Even inside Odessa’s ranks, the execution had unsettled people.
Broc’s face twisted in disbelief. Not merely at Delios’ death, but at how easily she discarded him afterward. As if, years of loyalty had become worthless the moment he stopped being useful.
Odessa’s eyes narrowed. “He failed me because weakness infected him.”
The words sharpened.
Smoli immediately pushed harder against Broc’s chest as the atmosphere snapped dangerously tight.
“Hey, Boss, maybe this isn’t the right time.” Smoli shifted himself further between them. “Broc’s heated. Let me get him outside before this turns ugly.”
Odessa never looked away from Broc.
“If Broc insists on testing me, then let him step forward, Smoli.”
“DAMN YOU!”
Broc exploded against Smoli’s hold, trying to shove past him. Marble groaned beneath their boots as Smoli wrestled him backwards with both arms now locked around his chest.
“Come on Broc!” Smoli dug his heels into the floor, forcing the larger man back inch by inch. “This is not the time.”
But Broc could not stop glaring at Odessa. And Odessa never once flinched.
“CAPTAIN!”
The sharp voice cut through the tension before Broc could erupt again.
One of Odessa’s men hurried into the ballroom, breathing heavily from exertion. West recognized him instantly. Ethio. Sweat and soot streaked across the soldier’s face, and there was an urgency in his eyes that instantly pulled Odessa’s attention away from the confrontation.
“Captain,” Ethio pressed forward through the gathered officers, struggling to contain his excitement. “We saw him. He’s here.”
Odessa turned fully toward him. “The Red Dragon!?”
The change in her was immediate.
Moments ago she looked ready to tear Broc apart with her bare hands. Now something almost feverish lit behind her eyes.
Ethio nodded quickly. “Yes, Captain. We got the dogs outside. We think we caught a trail.”
He lifted a worn leather vest.
Time slowed for West.
The thing was battered nearly beyond recognition, stained by dirt, sweat and old weather, but he knew it instantly. He remembered buying it for Tyrus some time ago. He remembered Tyrus complained about the color once but wore it every day since.
West stomach tightened.
Odessa stepped toward the vest like a predator scenting blood.
“Are you kidding me?” The corner of her mouth lifted for the first time all day. “You’re serious?”
“It’s a damn good lead, Captain.”
The ballroom shifted immediately into motion again.
“Pearl.” Odessa’s voice snapped through the chamber. “Set up the walls. No one gets in. Or out.”
Pearl gave a quick nod and quickly began moving to reorganize the totems across the map.
“Ethio, prepare the horses.” Odessa strapped a sword around her waist with uncontained excitement. ‘Smoli. Broc. You’re riding with me. Let’s move, gentlemen.”
“I’m not going.”
The refusal landed heavily in the room.
Everyone turned toward Broc.
He stood near the doors with his massive arms crossed tightly over his chest, anger still rolling off him in waves. Yet beneath it now was exhaustion. Something colder. The fury had burned long enough to leave nothing but grief exposed underneath.
Odessa stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean you’re notgoing? You’re on my left.”
“I’m. Not. Going. Broc turned his back to her completely.
The gesture shocked even the nearby soldiers.
“I’m staying here,” he muttered. “To bury Delios…”
Odessa scoffed openly. “Are you kidding me? You two hated each other!”
Broc’s shoulders tightened.
“I don’t care.” His voice lowered, roughened by emotion he clearly hated exposing. “House Oli buries their dead…”
For once, Odessa had no immediate answer.
She simply stared at him for a moment before waving him off with cold disgust.
“Fine.” Her jaw tightened as she adjusted the sword at her hip. “You can admit your cowardice to me again when we’re back in bed.”
The insult struck like a blade across exposed skin.
Broc stormed from the ballroom without another word, the heavy doors booming shut behind him hard enough to shake the hanging chandeliers overhead.
Silence lingered briefly afterward.
Then Odessa looked back to Ethio.
“You’ll take my left.”
Ethio straightened immediately. “Yes, Captain.”
But Odessa’s eyes still lingered on the doors Broc had disappeared through, annoyance simmering beneath her excitement.
“I want to come along.” West stepped forward before he could stop himself.
Odessa shut the idea down instantly. “Absolutely not.” She continued tightening the straps on her armor as she spoke. “You were assigned to watch over Pearl. Your duties are here.”
“But he’ll recognize me! I can help.” West glanced toward the vest still hanging from Ethio’s hand. “If Tyrus sees me, maybe I can get through to him.”
Odessa raised her hand without even looking at him.
The gesture alone silenced the room.
“I do not need you interfering.”
There was no room for argument in her voice.
She brushed past him alongside Ethio, already focused entirely on the hunt.
Smoli lingered behind for a moment. He approached West with a tired expression and extended his hand.
“You make sure Pearl stays safe.” A faint smile touched his face despite the tension hanging over the room. “I’ll make sure Tyrus stays alive.”
West clasped his forearm reluctantly.
“And…keep an eye on Broc,” Smoli added quietly. “He’s not good with grief.”
West gave a slow nod, though frustration still churned inside him. Every instinct screamed at him to follow them.
Tyrus was out there.
Alive.
Close enough now to leave tracks behind.
But when West looked toward Pearl standing beside the war table, exhaustion hidden carefully behind her focused expression, he saw the reality that Odessa had already accepted. Someone needed to remain behind.
Smoli gave him one final nod before hurrying out after Odessa and Ethio.
The ballroom suddenly felt colder after they left.
“Pearl stepped closer to West carefully. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly. West rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly. “Yeah… I’m okay. I just…” His eyes drifted briefly toward the doors.
“Maybe I’ll go get some air.” He forced a small nod toward Pearl. “Call for me if you need anything. I’ll stay nearby.”
Without waiting for an answer, West slipped out through the ballroom’s rear exit, deliberately avoiding the path Odessa and the others had taken.
West stepped out into the courtyard and immediately felt the cold bite deeper than before.
Snow drifted quietly through the night air, settling over bloodstains, broken weapons, and abandoned bodies alike with cruel indifference. The fighting had moved farther into the city now, but the distant sounds of war still echoed through Minht in dull waves. Steel clashed somewhere beyond the streets. Men screamed. Horses cried out. The city sounded like it was slowly eating itself apart.
Near the edge of the courtyard, Broc crouched beside Delois’ corpse.
The giant carefully brushed snow from his cousin’s face with slow, delicate movements. Not like a warrior handling the dead, but more like a man afraid to wake someone from their deep slumber. Delios’ body looked smaller now somehow. The arrogance that once seemed too large for any room had vanished entirely beneath the stillness of death.
Broc slid one arm beneath Delois and lifted him with surprising gentleness.
West followed silently as Broc carried the body out through the side paths of the mansion grounds. Their boots crunched through untouched snow until they reached what had once been a garden. Winter had devoured it completely. Dead flowerbeds sat buried beneath white frost, and the stone pathways had nearly disappeared beneath drifting snow.
Broc lowered Delios carefully onto the ground. For a moment he simply knelt there beside him. Then he began digging through the snow with his bare hands.
West watched silently before finally stepping closer.
Broc noticed him and rose in an instant, suspicion hardening his expression. “What?” His voice came rough and tired. “Did Odessa send you to talk to me? So she can get a report later?”
“No.” West shook his head. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine…”
The lie came automatically.
Broc looked down toward Delios before speaking again, quieter this time. “He was still my blood.”
The words lingered heavily between them.
West glanced toward a small wooden shed half buried near the garden wall. “There’s probably a shovel in there.”
Broc said nothing, but after a moment he followed.
The shed groaned when they forced the frozen door open. Inside they found rusted gardening tools, several shovels, and two old pickaxes hanging from warped hooks along the wall. They worked first to clear the snow from the ground, uncovering frozen earth beneath it hard as stone.
Then the real work began.
The sound of metal striking dirt echoed dully through the empty garden.
“You can go back inside with Pearl,” Broc muttered after several swings. “I can handle this on my own.”
West drove the pickaxe down again, cracking another layer of frozen ground. “I want to help.” He exhaled heavily. “Keeps my mind busy.”
Broc grunted and swung harder, sending shards of frozen earth scattering across the snow.
“Is this your first time digging a grave?”
West paused briefly. “I guess it is.”
Broc nodded slowly to himself as though confirming something. “We make it deep.” Another swing. Another crack through the earth. “Deep enough the cold cannot touch them. Deep enough scavengers cannot shame them.”
West leaned on the shovel for a moment, catching his breath. “So you two really were cousins.”
“Yes.”
The answer came with almost painful reluctance.
Broc stabbed the pickaxe into the ground and stood there staring at the growing grave.
“We competed over everything. Strength. Hunting. Women. Recognition.” A humorless smirk touched his face. “Half the bruises on my body afterwards came from him.” A faint, bitter laugh escaped him. His expression darkened again. “Blood or not, he deserves the rites all warriors do. A proper death.”
West nodded quietly.
Snow collected along Delios’ armor while they worked.
“You’ve got a good heart, Broc.”
The compliment made Broc turn sharply toward him.
“You…implying I’m weak for this?”
West frowned. “No.”
“I was raised just like him, West. I… I ate beside him. Bled beside him.” Broc stared down at his dirt-covered hands. “He brought me into the Blue Hearts. Introduced me to Odessa. I thought we were doing this…together.”
The anger returned suddenly.
“And for what!?”
The pickaxe slipped from his hands. Broc dropped to his knees beside the grave.
“She…killedhim. As if…he meant nothing…!” Tears streamed openly down his face now, hot against the cold air. “Not even worthy of her sword.” His chest trembled violently beneath his armor. “She loved him, more than she will ever love me.”
West stayed silent.
Broc laughed bitterly through the tears.
“And this is how he ends.” He wiped furiously at his face, ashamed of the emotion yet unable to stop it. “So then what is my fate?”
His voice lowered.
“Or yours, or Pearls. Even Smoli is not immune to her destructive ambitions?” Broc cleared his throat. “You must think this is all an attempt to justify my cowardice, but you will realize soon”
West understood that question more than Broc realized. He lowered himself beside him slowly.
“When Lord Omni died…” West stared at the frozen earth while memories dragged themselves forward from somewhere deep and painful.
The confession surprised even Broc enough to quiet him.
“I told myself I was being strong.” West’s jaw tightened. “Told myself there were more important things to focus on.”
Snow drifted softly around them.
“But truthfully?” West swallowed hard. “I was afraid.”
Broc looked toward him.
“I couldn’t accept that he was gone.” West’s eyes drifted toward Delios’ body. “And because of that, I left others to carry the weight.” His voice grew quieter.
“That’s cowardice.”
The garden fell silent except for the distant sounds of war beyond the walls.
Broc lowered his head.
West let out a slow breath through the cold air.
“A warrior has to know when to put down the sword,” he murmured. “And when to pick up the shovel.”
Broc looked up at him.
“There’s a time to bleed for the land,” West continued softly, offering him a hand, “and a time to seed it. Lord…Master Omni used to say that”
For the first time since leaving the ballroom, Broc’s expression eased.
Not healed. Not lighter. But human again.
He took West’s hand and pulled himself back to his feet.
Together, beneath falling snow and the distant roar of a dying city, the two men returned to digging Delios’ grave.
Meanwhile, Odessa and her small entourage carved their way through the dying streets of Minht.
Snow fell heavily now, thick enough to blur the city into shifting shapes of white and black. Lanternlight flickered weakly through the storm while ash drifted alongside the snowflakes, the remains of homes and barricades still burning somewhere deeper within the city.
The deeper they rode, the uglier the victory became.
Bodies littered the roads in frozen heaps. Blue Heart soldiers lay slumped beside Evokian defenders, their blood soaking into the snow until the streets resembled long crimson wounds stretching through Minht. Some of the dead still clutched weapons. Others looked as though they had simply sat down and surrendered to the cold.
Not all of them were dead yet.
Now and then a wounded soldier reached weakly toward the passing riders, begging for help through cracked lips before disappearing behind them into the storm. Odessa never slowed her horse once.
Smoli’s expression darkened with every street they crossed.
“This is getting ugly.” He guided his horse closer to Odessa while surveying the carnage around them. “How many men have we lost already? This ain’t looking good.”
A supply wagon burned nearby, its shattered wheels half buried beneath snow while bodies hung frozen against the sides like discarded dolls.
Odessa kept her eyes ahead.
“Just ride.” Her voice remained cold and focused. “We have the city. By morning this will all be worth it.”
Smoli did not answer.
He glanced again toward the dead lining the streets. Toward the abandoned wounded freezing where they had fallen.
But he kept riding.
Ahead of them, the tracking dogs pulled violently against their leashes, snarling into the storm as they followed the fading scent trail. Their handlers struggled to keep pace as the animals dragged them through alleyways thick with drifting snow and broken debris.
Then the dogs suddenly stopped.
Odessa narrowed her eyes.
Two carcasses lay ahead in the street. The tracking dogs.
Their bodies had been split open so cleanly the snow beneath them barely looked disturbed. Steam still rose from the exposed flesh.
“We’re getting closer.”
Odessa’s excitement sharpened visibly.
The moment the words left her mouth, Ethio’s horse screamed.
The animal collapsed violently into the snow, its legs folding beneath itself as blood erupted from its chest in a sudden spray of red. The shriek echoed horribly through the blizzard before cutting off into choking gurgles.
Ethio reacted instantly.
He rolled free from the saddle just before the dying horse crushed him beneath its weight. Snow exploded around him as he hit the ground and came up with his sword already drawn.
“Captain!”
His eyes searched desperately through the storm.
Visibility had collapsed to almost nothing now. Snow whipped violently between the buildings, reducing Odessa and Smoli to vague shadows atop their horses.
Ethio cautiously approached the dying animal, trying to locate the wound. Blood poured endlessly into the snow from somewhere beneath its ribs.
Then another figure emerged from the white.
Slowly.
Silently.
A man draped in a filthy weather-worn cloak stepped from the storm itself.
Steel collided instantly.
Ethio barely managed to block the first strike, the impact exploding through his arms hard enough to stagger him backward several feet across the snow.
Odessa heard the blade then turned to it.
Even through the storm, the Red Dragon stood apart from every weapon she had ever seen. Its dark crimson steel almost seemed alive beneath the falling snow.
“The Red Dragon…”
The words escaped her softly.
Smoli immediately threw himself from his horse and rushed forward to aid Ethio.
But Tyrus moved first.
The second strike came wide and brutal.
Ethio tried to raise his sword again.
Too slow.
The Red Dragon tore through both steel and flesh with horrifying ease. The blade passed through Ethio’s body as though resistance did not exist at all.
For a heartbeat, everything stood still.
Then Ethio split apart.
Blood burst across the snow in steaming waves as both halves of his body collapsed separately into the street.
Smoli froze.
Even Odessa’s expression flickered.
There had been no struggle. No duel. No chance. The realization struck them both instantly.
That sword was something else entirely.
Odessa leapt from her horse, fury overtaking shock as she drew her blade and charged. Smoli reached Tyrus at nearly the same moment, his iron sword crashing violently against the Red Dragon.
The sound rang unnaturally sharp through the storm.
Tyrus gave ground only slightly.
The three figures moved like shadows through the falling snow, blades flashing between bursts of white wind. Smoli attacked aggressively, forcing Tyrus backward with heavy strikes meant to overwhelm through sheer force.
Tyrus met every blow with frightening precision.
Steel screamed each time the Red Dragon collided against Smoli’s sword, tiny fractures beginning to splinter along the iron edge after only a few exchanges.
Odessa entered from the side suddenly, her blade thrusting toward Tyrus’ exposed ribs.
For the first time, he reacted sharply.
Tyrus pivoted fast enough to avoid the strike by inches before locking his blade against Odessa’s. The Red Dragon ground against her steel with a violent shriek as he shoved forward, preventing her from disengaging.
The sheer strength behind the clash startled her. Tyrus drove a brutal kick into her lower abdomen. Air exploded from Odessa’s lungs as she stumbled backward across the snow. Smoli immediately lunged from behind, trying to capitalize on the opening. Tyrus slipped aside smoothly.
The Red Dragon swept upward in a crimson arc that nearly removed Smoli’s arm entirely. Smoli barely twisted away in time, the blade instead carving through his shoulder armor like thin cloth.
Smoli staggered but attacked again immediately. This time Tyrus met the strike head on. The Red Dragon crashed against Smoli’s sword.
And the iron blade cracked.
Odessa forced herself back onto her feet just as Smoli and Tyrus collided again.
Snow whipped violently around them, reducing the fight to flashes of steel and bursts of movement beneath the storm. Smoli pressed hard now despite the damage to his shoulder, refusing to yield ground. His sword swung with brutal force, each strike aimed to overwhelm Tyrus before that monstrous blade could fully answer.
But Tyrus moved differently now. Not like a hunted man. More like a cornered beast finally tired of retreating.
The Red Dragon cut through the storm in savage crimson arcs, forcing Smoli backward inch by inch. Every impact rang through the street with terrifying force. Smoli’s iron blade continued splintering with each clash, cracks crawling farther along the metal.
Odessa circled wide, watching carefully. Looking for an opening. Smoli lunged again. Tyrus parried.
Odessa immediately rushed from the side and swung hard toward his neck. Tyrus answered harder. The Red Dragon collided against Odessa’s weapon with a deafening crack. Her blade shattered instantly. Steel exploded across the snow in broken fragments.
Odessa stumbled forward from the force of her own swing, balance lost completely beneath her boots. For the briefest moment her throat lay exposed directly in front of Tyrus.
The Red Dragon rose. Smoli shouted. But Tyrus hesitated. Not mercy. Recognition.
Instead of the blade, his fist crashed into Odessa’s face with horrifying force. Bone cracked beneath the impact as she collapsed hard into the snow, vision bursting white from the strike.
Smoli could not stop his momentum in time.
His boot caught Odessa’s fallen body, throwing him off balance for a single fatal second.
Tyrus did not hesitate again. The Red Dragon thrust forward.
The crimson steel punched through Smoli’s chest and erupted from his back in a spray of blood and steam.
Smoli froze.
His mouth opened silently as the blade pinned him there.
Then Tyrus ripped the sword free in one brutal motion and allowed the larger man to collapse heavily into the snow.
“NO!”
Odessa’s scream tore through the storm.
She forced herself upward despite the blood pouring from her nose and mouth. Nearby, Tyrus had already turned away from them entirely.
He began slaughtering the horses.
One after another.
The Red Dragon carved through their necks with horrifying ease, ensuring none could continue the pursuit. The surviving animals screamed and collapsed into the snow beside Ethio’s corpse.
“NO!”
Odessa fumbled desperately inside her coat and pulled free the dagger she had taken from Delios’ neck. Her arm snapped forward violently.
The blade cut through the storm toward Tyrus.
Without even fully turning, he caught it cleanly from the air. Silence settled briefly between them. Snow hissed against steel. Tyrus looked at the dagger in his hand.
Then toward Odessa.
Even through the storm and beneath the filthy cloak, something in him seemed exhausted. Worn thin beneath endless violence.
“Run… away.”
The words came rough and low, almost growled rather than spoken. He dropped the dagger into the snow. Then turned his back on her completely.
Odessa stared in stunned disbelief as Tyrus disappeared into the curtain of falling white. Within seconds the storm swallowed him entirely.
Gone.
“No… no…!” Her voice broke apart.
Suddenly Smoli coughed behind her.
Odessa spun immediately and dropped beside him.
“SMOLI!”
Blood flooded from the wound in terrible pulses now, staining the snow black beneath him. His breathing rattled wetly in his chest while his eyes struggled to stay focused on her face.
“It’s bad, Dess.” His trembling hand weakly gripped her coat. “Real bad.”
Odessa looked down at the wound.
And for the first time since West had met her, true fear crossed her face. Her lip quivered violently. Her eyes began to swell with panic.
“No…”
She slid her arms beneath Smoli and pulled him upward despite the blood soaking instantly through her sleeves.
“No…!”
The word became a prayer now. Odessa staggered forward through the storm carrying him.
“Save your strength, girl.” Smoli swallowed hard as blood crept from the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t worth wastin’ it on me.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Her voice cracked violently through the snow. She adjusted her grip and forced herself to walk faster.
“We’re getting you back to Minht! Right now!” Her breathing came ragged beneath the weight. “Do not give me that shit…! Do you hear me!?”
Smoli tried to laugh. Instead he coughed more blood against her shoulder.
The walk back became a nightmare through white and red. Past frozen corpses. Past shattered barricades. Past wounded men crying out beneath piles of snow.
Odessa carried Smoli through all of it while blood poured steadily down her arms. Her boots slipped constantly against ice and frozen mud, but every time she stumbled she forced herself back upright again.
The deeper they moved into Minht, the clearer the battle’s aftermath became. Entire streets had become mass graves. Blue Heart banners now hung above burning homes while surviving civilians huddled silently in ruined alleys watching the conquerors march past. Victory had finally come to Minht.
And it looked monstrous.
By the time Odessa reached the city center, her forces had fully secured the governor’s district. The moment soldiers spotted her carrying Smoli, panic spread instantly.
Several men rushed forward and carefully took him from her arms. Others shouted for healers while doors were thrown open inside the governor’s mansion.
Odessa followed behind them slowly. Numb. Her ears rang violently from the fight. Smoli’s blood coated her hands, her arms, and her chest. And no matter how tightly she clenched her fists, she could still feel the warmth of it fading away.
Back in the frozen garden, the grave was finally finished.
Snow had already begun settling over the disturbed earth around Delios’ burial site, softening the jagged edges of the mound while Broc, West and Pearl stood in silence beside it. The sounds of distant fighting had faded considerably now. Minht was no longer resisting. The city had been broken.
Broc planted the shovel into the snow and stared at the grave without speaking.
Then the shouting began.
Voices erupted somewhere inside the mansion grounds followed by the frantic pounding of boots against stone. Orders overlapped one another in growing panic.
Broc reacted instantly. His hand snapped to the hilt at his side as he turned toward the courtyard.
West grabbed Pearl’s hand immediately and followed after him through the snow. The closer they moved toward the mansion, the louder the chaos became.
Broc slowed only after realizing the disturbance came from Blue Heart soldiers themselves.
Men rushed frantically across the courtyard carrying supplies, blankets, buckets of steaming water, anything they could find.
“We need every healer and medicine man in here… NOW!” The shout came from inside the ballroom. “Find everyone in the city who can assist!” The fear in the man’s voice chilled West more than the snow ever could.
Broc immediately pushed through the gathering crowd with Pearl and West close behind him.
“What’s happening!?” Broc barked toward one of the soldiers near the entrance.
The man looked pale beneath the torchlight. “Commander Smoli…was wounded.”
Broc’s face hardened instantly. He shoved harder through the crowd.
Inside the ballroom, panic had transformed the once organized command post into a scene of desperation. Blood streaked across the marble floors in long smears leading toward the center of the room where several men crowded around the large strategy table.
“EVERYONE!Please!” one of the healers shouted frantically. “Give us room to work! Step back into position!”
Broc ignored him completely. West and Pearl followed close behind as they pushed through the bodies surrounding the table.
Then they saw the blood.
It pooled beneath the table in horrifying amounts, dark red spreading slowly across the marble like spilled ink. Torn cloths soaked through almost instantly as healers pressed desperately against the wound in Smoli’s chest.
“Punctured lung…”
“He’s losing too much blood…!”
“We need pressure here! Hurry!”
The voices overlapped chaotically around Smoli’s failing body.
“Smoli…” Broc’s voice barely escaped him. His eyes searched the room desperately until he finally found Odessa standing nearby.
The sight of her was unsettling.
Blood coated nearly half her body. Her face was bruised badly from Tyrus’ strike, and her expression looked hollowed out beneath the fury boiling inside her.
Then Pearl saw Smoli clearly. A broken sound escaped her throat. She buried her face immediately against West’s coat as sobs overtook her. “No…! No, no, no…!”
The healers barely acknowledged her grief. Their focus remained entirely on stopping the bleeding.
West slowly approached the table.
Smoli’s eyes found him almost immediately.
The bright warmth usually inside them had darkened into swollen crimson pools from pain and blood loss. Still, somehow, Smoli managed the faintest twitch of recognition.
West gently passed Pearl into Broc’s arms before stepping closer to inspect the wound himself.
Odessa noticed him immediately.
“Don’t just stand there!” She stormed toward him and shoved him hard in the chest. “Help him!”
Smoli weakly lifted one trembling hand toward West in something resembling a greeting.
“What…happened?” West muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the wounds.
The puncture had gone clean through. Precise. Brutal. Impossible to survive.
“What happened?!”
Odessa suddenly grabbed West violently by the shoulders and spun him around to face her.
“HE did this!” Her voice cracked into a scream. “The Red Dragon!” Her fingernails raked across West’s face before anyone could stop her, splitting skin beneath his eye. She lunged again wildly.
“You’re fucking Tyrus!”
Several nearby soldiers grabbed Odessa before she could strike him again. Even restrained, she fought against them viciously, trying to claw free.
“And where the fuck were you?!” The rage shifted instantly toward Broc.
Broc stepped between Odessa and West without fear.
West wiped the thin line of blood from his cheek silently while Odessa continued screaming at Broc through the arms restraining her.
Smoli coughed wetly behind them. “He got me good…”
The room quieted slightly at the sound of his voice.
“He got me real good.”
West immediately returned to the table.
Carefully, he lifted the blood-soaked rags covering the wound while the healers watched helplessly. The damage underneath turned his stomach cold.
The Red Dragon had not simply pierced Smoli. It had destroyed him from the inside. There was nothing left to save.
Pearl slowly worked up the courage to approach the table, though she still could not bring herself to fully look at Smoli’s condition.
“Pearl…” Smoli’s voice gargled through blood.
Pearl covered her mouth with shaking hands, tears streaming freely now.
“You’ll be alright, Pearl.” Smoli struggled to force the words out between ragged breaths. “Everything’s going to be…” The sentence broke apart beneath a violent cough. Blood spilled from his lips across the table.
Nearby, Odessa continued fighting against the men restraining her while Broc blocked her path entirely.
Eventually several soldiers managed to force Broc backward toward the ballroom doors to separate the two before Odessa completely lost control.
Broc resisted immediately as he shouted, “Move!”
He shoved one of the men aside hard enough to send him sprawling across the floor. More soldiers piled onto him. Still he fought them. Not out of anger anymore. Out of desperation. His eyes remained locked on Smoli the entire time.
Then Smoli looked back at him. For one brief moment the chaos around them disappeared.
No bitter rivalry. No foul arguments. Not even Odessa. Only two men who had survived too much together finally understanding that one of them was about to die.
Broc’s face broke completely.
He roared and threw another soldier off him violently before three more grabbed hold of his arms and shoulders. Boots scraped across marble as they dragged the giant toward the doors inch by inch.
Still he resisted. Until finally the sheer number of men overwhelmed him. And Broc was dragged from the ballroom while Smoli’s fading eyes continued to follow him until the doors slammed shut between them.
Odessa tore herself free from the soldiers holding her back and stumbled toward Smoli again.
“MOVE!” Odessa hissed as she shoved West aside hard enough to nearly knock him off balance before dropping beside the table. Blood soaked through her knees immediately as she grabbed onto Smoli with trembling hands.
“Do not do this to me…” Her voice cracked apart beneath the weight of panic. “Not now… Not here…”
The healers nearby lowered their eyes. None of them touched Smoli anymore. They already knew.
“We made a promise… Damn it!”
The words broke into something raw and desperate.
For the first time since West had known her, Odessa finally allowed herself to collapse beneath emotion. Tears streamed freely down her bruised face while her hands desperately searched Smoli’s body as though she could somehow hold him together through force alone.
Then suddenly she turned and grabbed West by the shoulders again. “Don’t just stand there!” She shook him violently. “DO SOMETHING!” Her voice had become hoarse now. Fractured. Barely recognizable beneath the grief tearing through it.
West could not answer. There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to fix.
Smoli’s breathing had already become shallow rattles trapped somewhere deep in his chest. Blood continued slipping from the corner of his mouth with every weakening breath.
Still, somehow, he smiled. Just barely.
“Take it easy on the kid, Dess.” His voice gargled softly through blood.
Odessa froze.
Smoli slowly raised one shaking hand toward her face. The movement looked impossibly heavy now, like even lifting his arm had become a battle his body could no longer win.
“I love you.”
His fingertips brushed weakly against her wrist. Then his hand fell. The breath left him quietly. And never returned.
Silence swallowed the ballroom whole.
The chaos. The shouting. The scrambling healers. All of it vanished at once beneath the crushing weight of Smoli’s death. Even the torches along the ballroom walls seemed quieter now, their flames flickering softly against bloodstained marble.
Pearl’s crying was the first sound to return. It was small and broken. She pressed herself into West again, clutching tightly to the front of his coat as though afraid the room itself might collapse around her.
West stared silently at Smoli’s body.
The warmth was already leaving him.
Across the table, Odessa remained perfectly still. She did not cry anymore. Did not scream. She simply stared at Smoli as though her mind refused to accept what sat in front of her. The blood on her hands had begun drying into dark streaks across her skin. Finally, her voice emerged.
Eerily calm.
“Get out.”
No one moved.
Odessa slowly lifted her head.
“EVERYONE OUT!”
The scream shattered through the ballroom hard enough to make several men physically flinch.
The soldiers immediately began filing out in silence. No one dared argue. No one dared look at Odessa for long as they passed. Yet almost every pair of eyes lingered on Smoli’s body before leaving the room.
The Blue Hearts had conquered Minht. And somehow the victory felt hollow now.
West slowly guided Pearl toward the ballroom doors while she clung tightly to him, her tears soaking into his coat. Around them, soldiers whispered uneasily beneath lowered breaths while healers quietly gathered their bloodied tools from the floor.
No one celebrated. Not anymore.
As West stepped out into the corridor, he glanced back one final time.
Odessa remained alone beside Smoli’s body beneath the dim ballroom lights, surrounded by maps, blood, and the ruins of her victory.
And somewhere beyond the mansion walls, hidden deep within the endless storm swallowing Minht, Tyrus still walked free.
West no longer knew if the man he once called a friend could still be saved.
But after tonight, for the first time, he was no longer certain Tyrus would even be found.