The trees closed behind us, swallowing the ruined temple in their silence. My feet ached with every step, but I didn't dare look back. The forest smelled of old ash and dried blood, even this far from the Hollow Order's pit. I pressed my hand against the wound below my ribs, the bandage soaked but holding. We had escaped, but that didn't mean we were safe.
Halvik said nothing as we moved. He led with quiet efficiency, one hand always on his hilt, eyes scanning every branch, every break in the silence. He'd risked everything to get me out—just a guard, not a hero—but in that moment, he was the only reason I was alive.
I tried not to think about what they had done to me.
But the pain lingered. Not just in flesh, but in memory. The marks on my back still throbbed. I hadn't seen them myself, but I'd felt the burn. Patterns carved into skin during the nights I was unconscious. And when I woke, there was always a hollowness. As if pieces of me had been taken and forgotten.
Our direction was clear now. North, toward Ethen's Spine.
Not back to Delyra. Not to my father.
To the last place I remembered Nira. The night I was taken, she'd been with me—shouting, fighting. And then... gone. I had to know. Had she escaped? Were the others safe? And why had Vysel sent that distress letter, days before the temple raid?
Ethen's Spine had always been foreign to me. A sub-kingdom under Delyra's reach, tucked into the mountain's edge. I'd stationed my soldiers there months ago, sending orders from afar. But I'd never set foot in it. Never smelled the pine-stung wind, or tasted the stone-dust in the morning air.
It wasn't home. But it had become something close to it for the men and women who followed me. And now….. it might be the last place we had left.
—
By the second day, I was limping.
We made camp beneath a jagged cliffside. The sky above was pale with twilight, and every gust of wind made the leaves rattle like bones. Halvik laid out a thin blanket and passed me a canteen.
"You should rest."
"I can't." My voice was hoarse. "Not until I know."
He didn't argue.
We ate in silence. Cold meat and dried roots. Every bite tasted like dirt.
I found myself thinking of Nira again. Her stubbornness. Her wit. The way she'd pull me aside and remind me to breathe, even when the war council was bearing down on me. I could still hear her voice sometimes, in the quiet.
"Don't look so grim, Del. You're already terrifying enough when you smile."
I smiled then. Just barely. And it hurt more than the wound in my side.
—
By dusk the next day, the edge of Ethen's Spine came into view.
At first, it looked whole—tall watchtowers, black stone gates, a curtain wall wrapped like a crown around the jagged cliffs. But the closer we got, the more I saw.
Smoke. Cracked stone. A half-raised banner, torn through the middle.
Something had happened here.
We approached from the eastern pass, hidden beneath thick pines. I gripped my sword tightly, motioning for Halvik to hold position. I could hear something from beyond the wall—a sound too rhythmic to be natural.
Chanting?
No. Just the wind.
But I didn't trust my senses anymore.
We slipped through a broken side gate, scorched black. Signs of battle littered the ground. Scorch marks. Blood trails. Abandoned weapons.
My heart pounded.
"Nira..." I whispered.
No answer.
Inside the outer barracks, we found the first survivor. A soldier, barely conscious, slumped against the far wall, a blood-soaked cloth wrapped around her thigh. She stirred when I approached, eyes fluttering open.
"Commander?" she rasped.
I knelt beside her. "Where's Nira? Where's Vysel?"
"They... they fought," she murmured. "The night they took you... Nira held them back. She told us to run. I—I don't know if she made it."
I closed my eyes. Guilt settled like a boulder in my chest.
"And Vysel?"
"In the infirmary," she whispered. "She's alive."
—
Vysel was sitting up when I entered the makeshift infirmary, her arm in a sling, her dark curls tangled with ash and sweat. She stared at me for a long moment, then stood.
"You're alive."
I didn't know what to say. I crossed the room in three steps and pulled her into a fierce, silent hug.
"I thought we lost you," she murmured.
"You almost did."
She drew back, eyes scanning the cuts on my face, the bandages on my arms. "What did they do to you?"
I shook my head. "Later. First—what happened here?"
She exhaled. "After you were taken, the Hollow Order turned their attention here. Three days of siege. No warning. They knew everything—our patrol routes, our blind spots. Like they'd studied us for months."
"They had," I said bitterly. "They had plans long before they ever reached that temple."
Vysel looked away. "Nira… she held the south wall. Gave us time to evacuate the wounded. We don't know if she escaped."
I forced the emotion down. I had to believe she was still out there.
"Did they say what they wanted?"
She nodded. "Blood. Symbols. They marked the gate with something before they vanished. Said you were the key. That everything was for you."
My stomach turned.
It wasn't just about me.
It never had been.
They wanted Delyrian blood. They wanted rituals. Sacrifices.
And they were willing to burn everything to get it.
---
That night, I stood on the southern wall, staring into the distance where the mountains cut against the stars. The wind was cold, but my blood ran colder.
"Nira," I whispered. "Wherever you are—hold on."
Because I was coming.
Not as a savior.
Not as a symbol.
But as vengeance wrapped in flesh.
And this time, I wouldn't be taken.
This time, I would burn them first.