A beast’s groan cut through the heavy night, low and mournful, its breath thick with the scent of ash and blood. The towering creature, something between a warhorse and a nightmare, exhaled sharply as she dismounted. Her boots landed in the dirt with a dull thud, the weight of her armor making her presence felt in the haven of the fallen.

  She could taste the grief in the air. The warriors in crimson surrounded the main camp like moths to the flames, their armor slick with fresh battle and tears mixing on their cheeks. They whispered prayers to the divines who seemed to have stopped listening. Even the dragons at the camp's edge held still, their reptilian eyes catching firelight with something that looked almost like mourning.

  Blood marked the ground in a trail leading to the main tent. Syrena walked through them all, her scarlet gaze fixed ahead. Behind her ribs, pain filled with grief gasped her heart, but she would not let it show. The warriors turned as she passed, their voices rising in broken and desperate.

  "Mir." One of them whispered. And then another. "Mir! Mir!"

  Like children crying for their mother when their father’s shadow disappears. It should have shattered her heart.

  But… She did not break.

  The tent flap fell behind her as she entered. Inside, the air sat heavier still with iron blood and death.

  Valeria hunched over the table, her fingers trembling as golden light sputtered between them. Her magic swirled in desperate fits, broken as her voice. Blood streaked her golden hair. Her armor bore cracks like spiderwebs. Her sword lay in pieces between them.

  She did not stop trying.

  The light pulsed but died in shame. Pulsed again. Words fell from her lips in fragments between sobs.

  Syrena's breath caught in her throat.

  Einar lay beneath those trembling hands. His black armor was torn where the blade had gone deepest in his abdomen. The wound in his chest should have killed him before he hit the ground, but his heart still beat, slow and weak. Each heartbeat was further from the last. His skin had gone cold. His lips tinged blue. Even blood pooled around him, thick and dark, soaking the ruined carpets until they squelched underfoot.

  For the first time since stepping onto this haven of grief, Syrena felt her heart tremble.

  Her hands clenched into fists.

  Valeria did not hear Syrena entering the tent. She muttered frantically, each word more desperate than the last. "No, no, no, please… no…" The light died again. She gasped, inhaling sharply, then tried again.

  Syrena stepped forward, her fingers trembling as she placed a hand on Valeria’s shoulder. Her voice was quiet, but steady. “He’s long past the treatment.”

  Valeria shook her head violently, as if she could deny reality itself.

  "Please, Valeria… Stop."

  She did not stop.

  Syrena's throat tightened. "Your magic won't bring him back."

  Still, she continued.

  Syrena wiped at her own tears. The grief in her eyes hardened into something forged in fire. She moved in front of Valeria, gripped her trembling arms and pulled her close.

  "You are wasting your essence, love."

  Valeria went still. Then as the last thread snapped, she collapsed into Syrena's arms.

  "S-Syrena... S-Syrena..."

  She clung like a drowning woman. Her sobs muffled against Syrena's shoulder. Silent tears fell down Syrena's face but she did not break. She could not break in front of her.

  Valeria's voice came small and broken. "H-He died... because of me... to protect me."

  Syrena pulled back and cupped her face. Those golden eyes that once blazed now swam with tears, unfocused and lost.

  "He would have done it again."

  "B-Because of me... Syrena..."

  "Valeria." Desperation edged her voice like a blade scraping stone. "His heart runs still. We can still bring him back. Think. Think of something."

  Valeria merely trembled, grief clouding her thoughts as she murmured Syrena's name again and again.

  "VALERIA!"

  The shout rang through the tent. Rang through the camp beyond. The beasts fell silent. The mourners went quiet. Even the knight outside who came with Syrena shifted his stance.

  Valeria stiffened, her eyes finally focused on Syrena's face.

  Syrena wiped the tears from her cheeks. Gentle despite the urgency burning in her voice. "We have to do something. Your family keeps the old scripts and rituals. Think of something... Anything..."

  Valeria shuddered. Blinked. Struggled against the weight crushing her chest. "There's... there's a way." Her voice came hoarse. "But... but it only works if the soul lingers. Once it leaves, there is no return."

  “Tell me.” Syrena's grip tightened. "We still have time."

  “There is an old ritual. Forbidden... even by the gods.” Valeria hesitated. Her lips trembled. "We… we can replace the vessel for his soul. His essence."

  Syrena exhaled sharply. "A vessel?"

  Valeria nodded once. “His soul still clings to his body.” Her trembling fingers curled into fists. "If we find a new vessel before the abyss claims him... it could work." She paused. "But the vessel must be strong. Unbroken. Dead, but untouched by any essence of the world."

  "That's nearly impossible." Syrena's heart sank. "No one could hold his essence. It would destroy them."

  Valeria's breath came short and panicked. "Unless we-" She paused.

  Syrena's eyes narrowed. "Unless?"

  Valeria swallowed hard. "Unborn."

  Silence fell between them.

  "A life yet to begin without essence. If we seal the magic correctly, his soul could take root... but... but the curse... it would still manifest even then... It's impossible."

  "No. It’s not impossible." Syrena gripped her hand. The smile on her face held only pain. "I will weaken it. I will take away his burdens... along with the memories of them. He will be free."

  Valeria listened in silence. She knew what it would mean for Syrena. Even with her own magic, she could only calm the curse but never cure it. Taking away his memories of the curse would mean taking herself from him. She did not even know what the curse would do to her. But if there was anyone who could do it, it would be Syrena.

  "Even then, we wouldn't have time to find such a vessel." Valeria's voice steadied slightly. "Our race are born with essence from birth. Even before seeing the world..."

  "Time," Syrena whispered.

  Her gaze dropped to the amulet at her neck. Without hesitation, she yanked it free. Her fingers pulled at the embedded stone. She crushed it between her palms.

  A pulse of energy erupted between them, and the ancient box materialized from the air itself. Heavy with forbidden power. It hovered between them, humming soft and low.

  Valeria's eyes went wide. "This relic... This is your brother's-"

  "No." Syrena cut her off with a shake of her head. "No... I couldn't."

  Valeria inhaled sharply. Understanding dawned. "Blood magic."

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  "We cannot kill our own blood." Syrena's jaw tightened. "We cannot even hold malice toward one another. An old spell that my bloodline carries within our veins..."

  Valeria exhaled shakily, nodded. The knowledge of it burned between them. An unspoken history. A bond neither could sever even if they wanted to.

  Syrena stepped closer. “This is the key.” Her voice dropped low and firm. "A relic untouched by the flow of time."

  The relic hovered above her palm, its glow flickering like dying embers. A relic of the past, a tool for the damned. It pulsed, waiting, but her eyes were only on him.

  Einar lay still on the table. His skin was pallid. His black hair matted with sweat and blood. His armor was ruined. Fused to his body where flesh had melted against metal. She reached for the fastenings but blood had dried, turning cloth and steel into one piece.

  Her fingers curled into the fabric. She ripped.

  The linen peeled away in wet shreds. Flesh carved apart by war lay beneath. His body was a painting of old wounds and fresh carnage. Slashes turned to gouges. Gashes barely clotted. A jagged tear through his stomach where the sword had run him through.

  But beneath the ruin…

  Thud.

  Her breath hitched in her throat.

  ...Thud.

  Weak. Still there. Each beat comes later than the one before.

  Syrena pressed her palm against his chest, feeling the fading rhythm. A single tear slipped from her eye and fell onto his cold skin. Her lips brushed his. A whisper against the silence.

  "Rest, my love. Just for now."

  She reached for the dagger at her hip. Its grip was familiar, but in her hands, it felt foreign.

  She turned to Valeria. Her voice came low and ragged. "Look away, love."

  Valeria's breath stuttered, but she turned with a sniff.

  Syrena exhaled slowly. Knuckles white around the hilt. Her hands were steady until they were not.

  The blade bit the cold skin.

  Flesh split beneath the steel. A wet, sucking sound filled the tent as she dragged the blade through his chest.

  Skin. Muscle. Bone.

  By the time she reached his ribs, her hands were slick. The dagger slipped against exposed bone. A sound part snarl, part sob tore from her throat as she wrenched it deeper. Tearing past cartilage.

  And then... his heart.

  It pulsed weakly beneath her fingertips. A dying ember in darkness.

  A bolt of red lightning cracked through the tent. The strike rattled the wooden supports. Blood-chains coiled around his heart. Seven thick strands of pulsing crimson. Twisting and writhing like living veins. Wrapping around the flesh like a beast's talons.

  Syrena knew these chains. They were a nightmare given form. Nightmare brought by her own father.

  Her breath came ragged. She drew her own blade across her palm. Her blood fell onto his chest in dark rivulets. A new thread slithered into existence. Bright and foreign. Pulsing with her own essence. It coiled around her wrist like a viper, binding her to him.

  Her voice cracked. "You won't have to carry our burdens alone anymore."

  The chains convulsed. One by one they recoiled from his heart until only four remained, along with the one she placed. They slithered over her skin. Burrowed beneath it. Syrena gritted her teeth as pain lanced up her arm. Dark veins crept toward her shoulder. She reached for the relic with trembling, bloody hands. The box snapped shut with a resounding thud of the heart.

  The silence that followed was suffocating.

  Syrena staggered. Her hand burned with pain. Black veins still slithering beneath her skin. With a hiss, she yanked a glove over her arm, concealing the corruption.

  She turned to Valeria. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Valeria..."

  Valeria's golden eyes met hers. Red-rimmed. Swollen with grief. "...Syrena. You should go. I will stay."

  "No." Syrena shook her head and stepped forward. "You are the only one who can do this. Enyer needs me here."

  Valeria's fingers curled tighter around the box. "I will stay with him. My magic-" her voice cracked, "my magic is needed here."

  "You should go... you are too pure to see death... too pure for these horrors." Syrena cupped her face. Her voice trembled. "...I have to stay." She gripped Valeria's hand and placed it on her abdomen. "For our child."

  Valeria went silent for a few moments. Her hand felt the life building there. "You... you are with child?"

  "Four months."

  "You-" She snapped. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell him?"

  "I couldn't distract him from the war." Syrena reached for her face. "I wasn't even certain at first. You know I could never be a mother, ever."

  "...P-Prophecy." A choked sob broke from Valeria.

  "We have already witnessed the darkest power in the hands of my father." She paused. “And now this… Everything seems to be coming true.”

  "I can't do this without you."

  Syrena gripped her shoulders. Fingers digging in, forcing her to look. "You are not alone in this. You never are. We are one. We have always been one. Two bodies with one soul."

  Her soft lips brushed against Valeria's. Desperate. A plea and promise both.

  Then she placed the relic in her hands.

  "Vallmok!"

  The knight entered. His heavy boots thudded against the blood-soaked carpet. His jaw clenched at the scene, and even his voice filled with hidden grief. "My lady. Your orders?"

  "Follow the river passage and lead her to the Ruins of Somna’r. Kill anyone who comes in your way, be that as it may, friend or foe."

  “Vallmok will keep you safe.” Syrena turned to Valeria. "You know where you need to be and when you need to be. Do not trust anyone, not even humans."

  Valeria's hands trembled around the box, but she nodded.

  Syrena turned to the knight again. Her eyes burned. "Protect her with your life."

  The knight lowered his head with his gauntlet hand crossing his chest. "By my blood oath."

  Valeria took a step toward the entrance before Syrena's gaze flickered to Einar's lifeless hand. To the black ring with its crimson engravings.

  "Wait!"

  Valeria stopped as Syrena pried both rings from his cold fingers. One she held in her grasp. The other she slid onto the chain around her neck and tossed to her.

  "You will need it."

  Valeria caught it. Swallowed hard. Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

  "Can we… can we win this war?"

  The weight of her people, her kingdom, the war pressed against Syrena's ribs. Suffocating. Finally, she shook her head.

  "Not without the Wheel and the Keys."

  Valeria's fingers clenched around the tent flap. “I will wait for you, my sister.”

  And then she was gone.

  Syrena stood there. Stared at the place where she had been. Then her knees buckled. Her hands hit the floor. Her fingers clawed into blood-drenched soil. A choked, guttural sob ripped from her throat. Raw. Broken. Tears fell freely.

  For what felt like an eternity, she remained there. Her tears mingling with his blood. She had lost him. But she had no time to mourn.

  Finally, she rose. Wiped her tears with crimson-stained hands. Her red eyes, though swollen from weeping, now burned with determination as she stepped outside to face her people.

  The voices stilled as she emerged. All eyes turned to her. Searching for hope in the wake of devastation. Syrena raised her voice. All traces of grief were locked away behind a wall of steel.

  "Vratar is dead...” She held the gold ring with the red gemstone aloft. The symbol of their fallen protector. “Einar Emberheart is dead."

  A moment of terrible silence fell over the camp before the dragons raised their heads as one and unleashed screams that shattered the sky.

  “I understand your grief, as my own heart has shattered in that tent. But… There is no time to grieve." Syrena's voice cut through their cries. "He may be dead, but the enemy still lives and fights in the Deserts of the Old. Can you stay still while the one who killed your lord draws breath?"

  A thunderous "NO!" rose from the assembled warriors.

  "Can you stay still while our king, even in the grieving moment of losing his own brother, fights alone on the battlefield for the future of his people?"

  "NO!" The response shook the ground itself.

  "Can you stay still while those demons purge our holy lands and remove every trace of our history and culture while enslaving every last drekon for their appeasement?"

  "NO!"

  "Then, show them your loyalty to the one who stood with his people like no other. Show them your faith in the supreme lord who made sure no one felt alone even in their darkest times."

  "YES!" The crowd roared.

  "Hail Awadha'ar!" Syrena cried, raising her bloodied fist to the sky.

  "HAIL AWADHA'AR!" The crowd echoed.

  "Hail Zeroth!"

  "HAIL ZEROTH!"

  The chant built and built. Warriors pounded weapons against shields. Dragons joined with roars that split the heavens. "HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!"

  And through it all, Syrena stood tall.

  A figure carved from marble and steel. Even as her heart lay shattered within her chest. Even as black veins beneath her glove spread slowly upward. Unseen by all but her. The price was marked upon her flesh. But she paid it. For a peaceful future. For a life growing in her womb.