I didn't sleep.
Even when the fires in the courtyard dimmed and the soldiers finally let themselves rest, I sat awake beneath the watchtower of Ethen's Spine, staring into the woods we'd come through. Waiting for movement. For any sign that the Hollow Order had doubled back to finish what they started.
But the night stayed quiet. Almost too quiet.
I let my fingers trace the edge of the wound on my ribs—flesh half-healed, bone still aching. The skin around it was taut and sore, the pain dull now but constant. And though I didn't say it aloud, I knew it wasn't healing right. Whatever they'd done to me—whatever rituals they'd laced into my blood—it had changed something deeper than the flesh.
I could feel it now.
Not a power. Not a gift.
A weight.
Like I was carrying something that wasn't entirely mine.
Vysel joined me at dawn, her hair pulled back in a tight knot, her eyes heavier than I'd ever seen them. She handed me a rolled parchment.
"We found this sealed in one of the barracks," she said quietly. "Marked with the Hollow Order's sigil."
I unrolled it. Red wax, black ink, no name.
The blood of the touched is the spark.
Delyra is the hearth.
You are the flame.
When you awaken, the old gods will return.
I read it twice. Then again. The words made my skin crawl. I didn't know if I wanted to scream or vomit.
"They left this behind on purpose," I muttered. "They wanted me to read it."
"They want you afraid," Vysel said. "They want you isolated. Predictable."
"Well, they miscalculated."
I stood, gripping the hilt of my sword as if it could steady me. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot. But I need to know who we're really fighting."
Vysel nodded slowly. "And you think the answers are in the eastern settlements?"
"More than that. If Nira made it out that night, she'll be headed east. Toward the forest strongholds or the old roads into the cliffs. If anyone knows what happened when the Order struck, it's her."
Vysel hesitated. "And if she didn't make it?"
I turned to her. My voice came out softer than I expected.
"Then I'll bring her justice."
—
By midday, I had a plan.
We would ride light. No banners. No more than five soldiers—Vysel among them. Halvik insisted on joining us, though he barely had time to recover. He said he didn't want to stay behind. Said the silence made him feel like he was still in the temple.
I didn't argue.
We rode east at sundown, the trees casting long shadows over the path. The roads were thinner now, grown wild and overrun. Ethen's Spine hadn't kept strong patrols in the far ranges since the siege, and there were no signs of the locals who once lived in the woods.
It was like the forest had eaten them all.
Two hours into the ride, Vysel pulled ahead. She stopped suddenly, raising a hand.
"Smoke," she whispered.
I followed her gaze. A thin black column in the sky, rising from the edge of a low ridge.
We dismounted and moved on foot.
—
What we found chilled me.
A caravan. Or what was left of it. Three wagons, all burned to the frame. Scorched corpses—half a dozen, maybe more. Some of them wore the colors of Ethen's Spine. The others were villagers.
And one of the wagons bore the mark of Delyra's northern garrison. My own seal. My own men.
I walked through the wreckage in silence. Ash crunched underfoot.
"They were intercepted," Halvik muttered. "No sign of struggle, though. It was quick."
"They never saw it coming," I said.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
Pinned to one of the trees, written in dried blood, was a message:
We only need the flame. The rest are kindling.
My stomach dropped.
"They're hunting them," I whispered. "Not just me. My people. Anyone who followed me. They're cutting away my foundation, one piece at a time."
Vysel clenched her fists. "Then we can't stop."
"No," I said. "We push faster. Ride until our horses drop. If Nira's alive, we find her. If she's not—then we find out who made that call."
—
We reached the old forest checkpoint by nightfall.
The post had been abandoned, its wooden gate hanging loose. Blood stained the door, but there were no bodies. Just silence.
But we weren't alone.
I felt it in the air—like a breath held too long.
And then—
A movement. Just past the trees.
I drew my sword. Vysel followed.
And then a voice.
"Commander?"
I froze.
It was faint, cracked from thirst.
But unmistakable.
"Nira?"
I ran.
She stumbled from the trees, barely upright, one arm clutched to her ribs. She looked thinner, bruised, but alive. Her eyes met mine and I saw it—the stubborn fire that had never gone out.
And then she collapsed.
—
We carried her back to the checkpoint. She was burning with fever, half-delirious, but alive. Vysel worked quickly to get water and poultices while I sat by Nira's side, holding her hand, whispering her name again and again until her eyes fluttered open.
"Del..."
"I'm here."
"You made it... I told them... you'd fight your way back."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I never stopped."
She shifted slightly, and then her voice dropped, weak but urgent.
"They're planning something, Delbeyrah. The Order... they're moving east. Looking for a gate. Something buried. They need your blood to open it."
I went cold.
A gate.
Another ritual.
Another way to use me as a key.
"I won't let them," I said.
But in my heart, I felt the tremor again.
Because if they'd gone this far already—sacrificing cities, ambushing caravans, bleeding Delyrians dry—then whatever lay beyond that gate wasn't just for them.
It was meant for me.
And I was running out of time.