By morning, the Crown’s soldiers had laid down their weapons.
Some had served because they believed the barrier saved lives.
Others had feared what would happen if they refused.
The villagers did not forgive them all.
They did not have to.
They took the weapons, set the soldiers to work repairing the tower, and kept watch while the storm thinned at the edges.
Mara expected the Crown to send another army.
Instead, a messenger arrived under a white flag with a proclamation from the capital.
It named the twins traitors, oath-breakers, and enemies of the realm.
It accused them of destroying the Dawn Engine and leaving Lowmere vulnerable to annihilation.
“They’ve somehow managed to blame us for fixing it,” Elias said.
“That’s talent.”
Arden read the rest in silence.
The Crown offered pardon if they surrendered and agreed to be bound to the capital’s service.
He folded the paper.
“I’ll go back.”
“To arrest Caedran?” Sera asked.
“To tell the capital what happened. They may not believe me.”
“They’ll call you a traitor.”
“They already have.”
Mara studied him.
“What will you do if they order you to fight us again?”
Arden unfastened the remnants of his blue cloak.
“I won’t.”
He left before noon, carrying no sword.
Lio watched him go from the gate.
She had a small pack over one shoulder and a sun token in her hand.
“You’re staying?” Mara asked.
“I’m staying until the tower is steady. Someone should make sure the Crown doesn’t come back and tell the village it imagined everything.”
“That sounds like work.”
“It is.” Lio tucked the token into her pocket.
“I think I’m done smiling for people who haven’t earned it.”
Elias gave a solemn nod.
Sera placed a hand on Lio’s shoulder.
“She’ll be safer here than at the palace.”
Mara looked at the young woman.
“If you change your mind, find us.”
“How?”
“Ask the next person you meet who’s been called a monster.”
Lio smiled, but it was her own smile this time.
Sera stayed in Lowmere.
She would train the villagers to maintain the new barrier and help them recover what the engine had stolen.
Before she went, she placed her old sunburst insignia in the dirt and stepped on it.
“Don’t mistake leaving for running away,” she told the twins.
“Sometimes people need you to stay. Sometimes you have to keep moving so the next village gets a chance.”
“Which one is this?” Elias asked.
“I don’t know. That’s why you’ll have to decide.”
Mara glanced back at the people repairing the tower.
They were tired, and some still watched the twins with fear.
She understood.
They did not owe the twins trust just because the twins had helped them.
“We’ll come back,” she said.
“If they want us to.”
Sera nodded.
“That’s better.”
“What will you do now?” she asked the twins.
Mara looked west.
Beyond the storm, more villages lay beneath the Crown’s old wards.
“We’re going to find out how many towers there are.”
“And break them?”
“If they’re hurting people.”
Elias added, “If there’s a better way, we’ll try that first.”
Sera gave them a long look.
“That answer will get harder to keep.”
“We know,” Mara said.
They walked out of Lowmere at sunset. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
The village gave them food, a map, and a pair of dark cloaks lined in silver thread.
The boy who had asked if they were heroes ran beside them until the road bent.
“Will you come back?” he asked.
“Yes,” Mara said.
“Even if everyone says you’re monsters?”
Elias looked at his sister.
“Especially then.”
The boy nodded, satisfied.
They crossed the ridge together.
Behind them, the new barrier shone over Lowmere, not a perfect dome, but a web of lights that moved with the wind.
The storm passed through it in ribbons of shadow and gold.
At the ridge’s crest, Mara stopped.
In the distance, the Crown’s capital glittered beneath its own hard wall.
“We could go there tonight,” Elias said.
“We could.”
“We could break the palace open and drag every person who ordered this into the square.”
“We could.”
He looked at her.
“Are you going to tell me not to?”
“No. I’m going to ask what happens to the people inside when we do.”
Elias exhaled.
“You’re getting annoying.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“You’ve been annoying before.”
Their shoulders touched.
The bond between them hummed, warm and steady.
It carried pain, power, and the memory of a hand locked around another in the dark.
They had been good people once, and the world had failed them.
They did not owe it gentleness.
They did not owe it obedience.
But they would decide what their anger was for.
Together, they descended toward the next village.