Even the most disciplined armies rout when the losses become staggering. Unfortunately, nobody had told the trolls. They fought literally to the last man, their ferocity unyielding even as their numbers dwindled. I remembered reading Sun Tzu out of curiosity once, and so I yelled for the men to give them a way to retreat, hoping it might break their resolve. But it didn’t work. They just kept coming, their eyes fixed on us with a cold, unrelenting hatred.

  At least it finally made sense why they hadn’t conquered the whole continent. The whole “they’re too tribal” excuse had never really convinced me. Humans are pretty tribal themselves, after all, and we’ll fight to the death over the most trivial things. But this? This was something else. They weren’t defending their homes or their families—there were no children or elderly in the camp, just shabby tents and the remnants of a war machine.

  I’d even thought they might have some plunder, something worth fighting for, but as I sat in one of the nicer tents, I found nothing of value. Sure, there were things here that might have had sentimental value to someone once—a carved trinket, a faded banner—but nothing worth dying for. Nothing worth this.

  It wasn’t that I was having some existential moment or anything, but once the adrenaline wore off, being surrounded by dead bodies kind of takes a toll on your psyche. Even closing my eyes didn’t help; their blood smelled the same as anyone else’s, and the stench was everywhere.

  But this wasn’t the place for that. I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to focus on the logical side of things. The problem was that we’d lost more men in the prolonged fighting, and more importantly, we’d lost time. It felt awful to even think it, but time was something we could have used to get far away from the front line. If the trolls had been bloodlusted before, I didn’t want to be here to see what they’d be like when they found the remains of their camp.

  The break had gone on long enough, and I guess we needed it after the last few hours. The sounds of fighting were dying down, even on the far side of the camp where our rescuers had been. The battle was over, at least for now, but the cost was written in the bodies around us.

  “We need to regroup and leave,” Jamie said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

  I turned to him, my exhaustion making it hard to keep the edge out of my voice. “Well, go over there and tell them that.”

  “You led them this far,” he said, though he sounded less sure of himself now.

  “That was only because it was life and death,” I replied, shaking my head. “The last thing I want is to lead people.”

  I tried to focus on other things, anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the recent past. The sounds of fighting had stopped completely now, and I could see people moving in our direction.

  The group approaching us was led by an elderly man in elaborate armor, his bearing regal despite the weariness etched into his face. Beside him walked a woman of similar age, her attire equally fine, though now stained with dirt and blood. They moved with the kind of dignity that spoke of years of leadership, even in the midst of chaos. But it wasn’t them who caught my attention.

  Near them, walking slightly behind, was a figure that looked familiar. Her clothes were in tatters, hanging loosely on a frame that looked almost frail. She was covered in blood—some of it dried and flaking, some of it still fresh. Her head was bowed, her eyes fixed on the ground as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She looked exhausted, her steps slow and deliberate, as though every movement took effort.

  And then she looked up.

  Our eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. It was Alira. Her face, at least the part not covered in blood, was pale, her features drawn, but there was no mistaking her. The sharpness in her eyes, the determination that had always defined her, was still there, though now it was tempered by exhaustion and something else—relief, maybe, or disbelief.

  “Alira,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. It felt like the air had been knocked out of me. She was alive. After everything, after the battle and the bloodshed and the endless fear that I’d never see her again, she was here.

  Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at me. But then she smiled—a small, tired smile, but genuine all the same—and I couldn’t help but smile in return. In that moment, nothing else mattered. I ran to her, my legs carrying me forward almost without thought, and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

  It wasn’t graceful, not by any stretch of the imagination. We were both too tired, too battered, and I was probably getting blood all over my robes. But none of that mattered. She was in my arms, and she was alive.

  Her arms wrapped around me, tight and desperate, and I held her just as fiercely, my face buried in her shoulder. She smelled of sweat and blood and smoke, but beneath it all, there was still the faintest trace of her—of home. It was a small comfort, but one I clung to with everything I had.

  “You’re alive,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

  She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me, her hands gripping my shoulders like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was a spark of humor there too, the kind that had always defined her. “And here I thought you were ever the optimist,” she said, her voice thick with emotion but laced with that familiar teasing tone.

  I smiled again, despite everything. “It’s a figure of speech,” I said, my gaze never leaving hers. “Missed you,” I added, the words simple but carrying all the weight of everything we’d been through.

  Her smile softened, and for a moment, we just stood there, holding onto each other as if the world outside didn’t exist. The battle, the bloodshed, the fear—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of us.

  “You’re hurt,” I said finally, my gaze dropping to the blood staining her clothes. There were cuts and bruises everywhere, some shallow, some deeper, and I felt a surge of anger—at the enemy, at the war, at the world for putting her through this.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the weariness in her eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I wanted to argue, to insist that she sit down and let someone tend to her wounds, but I knew better. Alira wasn’t the type to rest, not when there was still work to be done. And besides, there were more pressing matters at hand.

  The elderly man and woman were talking with Jamie, their expressions a mix of relief and determination. The man stepped forward, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “We need to move,” he said, raising his voice addressing the crowd.

  My attention was still on Alira. She looked like she was about to collapse, but she straightened her shoulders and nodded as well. “We can catch up on the road I guess,” she said.

  ─── ????? ───

  The first hour was tense, the kind of tension that makes your shoulders ache and your jaw clench without you even realizing it. The fog had begun to dissipate, but it lingered just enough to provide some cover, though the setting sun was our real ally. As darkness descended, the mood shifted. People began to relax, if only slightly, the chance of discovery dropping dramatically with the arrival of night. The shadows became our shield, and the quiet hum of movement replaced the earlier silence of fear.

  Progress was good, even in the dark. Unlike me, some of the group actually knew the lay of the land, and their familiarity with the terrain kept us moving steadily. It also gave Alira time to recover, at least a little. She walked beside me, her steps slow but steady, her presence a quiet comfort. As we moved, I recounted my adventures in Meteora, the words spilling out in a low, steady stream. Whether it was exhaustion or simply her way of letting me talk, she didn’t interrupt me once—until I reached the conclusion.

  “She was hot, wasn’t she?” Alira said, her voice cutting through the night.

  It was too dark to see her expression clearly, the moonlight casting only faint shadows across her face. I could hear the teasing in her tone, though, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Some would say she was attractive,” I admitted, my voice light and playful. “But she had nothing on you.”

  “Nice try,” she said, though I could hear the smirk in her voice. “I can understand the men not seeing through the beauty—you’re simple creatures, as you once put it. But what about Elena and Amra? They’re not exactly easily fooled.”

  “She was best buds with Amra,” I said, shrugging. “And Amra couldn’t stand anyone, including me. So, yeah, she had us all fooled.”

  Alira let out a soft laugh, the sound warming the cool night air. “Really? You didn’t get along with someone? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Yeah,” I said, grinning. “She basically couldn’t stand my tomfoolery. She was warming up to me toward the end, though, when I was more serious.”

  Alira was quiet for a moment, her footsteps soft against the ground. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more serious. “Well, at least we know they can die.” There was a weight to her words, a mix of relief and something darker.

  I reached out, my hand brushing against hers in the dark. “Yeah,” I said softly. “They can die. Though I’m sensing a more personal reason.”

  She didn’t say anything at first, but her fingers intertwined with mine, her grip firm and reassuring. We walked like that for a while, the night stretching out around us, the stars faint overhead.

  “Finally, I found you,” Elena’s voice cut through the quiet night. She stepped into view, her expression a mix of relief and hesitation as she stood near Alira, unsure whether to hug her or keep her distance. “Sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but I was at the rear, helping keep us hidden,” she explained, her tone apologetic.

  Alira didn’t hesitate. “If both of us surviving our adventures doesn’t warrant a hug, I don’t know what does,” she said, pulling Elena into a tight embrace. Elena stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, returning the hug with equal warmth.

  When they pulled apart, Elena began her story, and I couldn’t help but wonder if demi-gods were sprouting like weeds all of a sudden. Two in Meteora, and now two in this part of the continent. It seemed we’d been lucky in Meteora—at least my pair had tried to kill each other. Here, they seemed to be best friends, which, I supposed, explained the new alliance.

  “He left you home so you wouldn’t have to face a demi-god,” Elena said, her voice tinged with irony, “and you wound up fighting one anyway.”

  Alira sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “At least you accomplished something. All I did was leave Ena behind,” she said, her tone heavy with regret.

  “You saved us,” Elena said quickly, cutting in before I could respond. “That’s more than something.” She gave Alira a small, reassuring smile before stepping back. “Anyway, I’m gonna leave you two to catch up. We’ll talk later,” she said, disappearing into the night.

  There was a short pause after Elena left, the silence filled with the soft sounds of the night. I turned to Alira, breaking the quiet. “So… immune to mind control, huh? That’s new.”

  She let out a tired laugh. “Thank Elune for that,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of gratitude.

  “At least I can tell you all my secrets now,” I said, half-joking, half-serious.

  She turned to look at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Maybe tomorrow,” she said, her voice soft. “I can barely keep my eyes open as it is.”

  “Sleep, then,” I said, gesturing to a nearby wagon we salvaged from the camp. “I’ll wake you if there’s an emergency.”

  She nodded, her movements slow and deliberate as she settled down. Within moments, her breathing evened out, and she was asleep. I sat nearby, keeping watch, the night stretching out around us.

  By midday, we reached a fort. Soldiers seemed to pour into it from three different roads, a steady stream of survivors making their way to what I hoped would be safety. It was a strange feeling, seeing the fort from the perspective of war. Until now, I’d been more focused on the people around me than the structures we passed. But now, as I looked at the fort, I couldn’t help but wonder if it could survive a siege.

  Everything was made of stone, which, in a world where mages hurled fireballs, seemed like the sensible choice. I’d expected the walls to be thick, like the castle walls from the later periods of history back on Earth, when cannons made thick fortifications necessary. But to my surprise, the walls were thin and tall. Maybe magic fireballs didn’t pack as much of a punch as I’d thought. Or maybe there was some other reason for the design that I wasn’t seeing.

  The fort’s location was interesting, too. There were no rivers nearby to help with defense, but one side of the fort backed up against a deep ravine, and the other three sides were steep hills. From my perspective, it had potential. The terrain would make it difficult for an enemy to approach, and the fort’s position would give defenders a clear advantage. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no fort was truly impregnable, not in a world where magic existed.

  As we passed through the gates, the noise hit me like a wall. The fort was a hive of activity, the air thick with the sounds of clanging metal, shouted orders, and the groans of the injured. People sat wherever they could find space, their wounds being tended to by healers who moved with frantic urgency. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly, their forges glowing as they repaired armor and weapons. The smell of smoke and sweat filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of blood.

  There was little space available, but after some searching, I managed to find a spot in a large hall that had been transformed into a makeshift sleeping quarters. Rows of cots and blankets covered the floor, and the air was thick with the sound of snoring and murmured conversations. I carefully laid Alira down on one of the cots, her breathing steady and deep. Even carrying her here hadn’t woken her.

  After everything she’d been through, she needed the rest. Her story had been harrowing, and I couldn’t blame her for being completely drained. I sat down beside her, keeping watch as she slept.

  I leaned back against the wall, my eyes drifting shut for a moment. The noise of the fort faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of Alira’s breathing. For now, that was enough. We were alive, and we were together. The rest could wait.