Leliana was at my side in a heartbeat.

  "Leon, give me a hand here," she said, quiet but firm.

  I didn’t move. Just watched them like I was somewhere else entirely.

  Leon nodded and came around, steady. Leliana placed a hand on my injured shoulder, felt the limp weight of it, and frowned. “Hold him steady,” she told Leon.

  He obeyed. I stayed frozen—no words, no resistance.

  Then it hit.

  A lightning bolt of pain exploded through my nerves as she wrenched my shoulder back into place. The pop echoed in my skull, my jaw clenched so tight I tasted blood. I growled, low and tight in my throat.

  “Gods above…” I hissed.

  “We need to leave. Now,” Leon said, voice trembling, concern cracking through.

  Leliana glanced at him and gave a small, silent nod.

  But then Jorguh spoke, and it cut through the quiet like a blade. “Not until I get some action,” he grinned, all teeth and wild energy.

  I turned to him, teeth still grit. “There’s no backing away now.”

  Leon, surprisingly, hissed back. “This isn’t a place to act strong.”

  That got my attention. The gentle, soft-spoken mage had a spine after all.

  “He’s right,” Leliana said, her voice edged with desperation. “Please, Koch. Let’s go. We’ll find another way. We can regroup in Manach's room.”

  “No,” I said, calm but final. “This started. We finish it—or we wait for them to finish us.”

  The silence that followed said everything. They knew I wasn’t going to bend. Not tonight.

  “What do you need?” Leon asked, pale but resolved.

  I pointed at the armor bundled in his arms. “First—get me in this.”

  They worked together quickly. I barely registered the movement, just the pressure and shifting weight. Through it all, I watched Jorguh. He stood with his back to us, scanning the darkness, quiet as the grave. For once, he wasn’t cracking jokes or flexing. He was a wall. Maybe he wasn’t just a brute after all.

  When the last strap was buckled, I stood taller. Not whole, not ready—but armored.

  “Now, use your healing magic. Do what you can.”

  Leon nodded. His hands began to glow with gentle green light, and the soft hum of arcane language drifted from his lips. A wave of warmth spread through me, soothing the fire in my muscles, dulling the thunder in my shoulder. Temporary relief. But it was enough.

  “That’s all I’ve got. Basics only,” he said, apologetic.

  “You don’t fight, right?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Then you and Leliana have a job. Hide Manach.”

  Her eyes widened. “We can’t move him.”

  “For fuck’s sake—figure something out,” I whispered, sharp and low. “He’s a liability lying there. Use what magic you have. Your expertise. Just hide him. I need to know he’s safe.”

  Leon raised an eyebrow. “What about the ‘security’? That vial you mentioned?”

  “It’s there,” I said. “Half-open under his arm. Move him and it opens. But it doesn’t last forever. And don’t open it yourselves unless you want to freeze solid.”

  Leliana looked at me, her voice raw. “What if he dies?”

  I gave it a heartbeat. Thought about it. The weight of the choice.

  “If he dies—it’s on me. But I trust you both.”

  She nodded, reluctantly. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

  “Good,” I said. Then they were gone—two shadows disappearing into the treeline, a soft “Good luck” trailing behind.

  Jorguh turned to me, grin already back.

  “Just you and me, snow-sniffer.”

  “I’m not saving your ass,” I warned.

  “No need. I’ve got a damn fine ass. Might even save yours for fun.”

  I ignored the chuckle and looked toward the looming shell of the mansion. “Let’s go.”

  “Front door?” he asked, almost giddy.

  “No better way to make an entrance.”

  He straightened, mock-regal. “May I have the honors?”

  I smirked. “Be my guest.”

  Before he moved, I muttered an incantation—Sheer Cold Coating. Ice spread across my armor in delicate, crystalline layers. Protective, silent, deathly cold, indestructible if not put under too much pressure.

  Then Jorguh charged.

  “KNOCK. FUCKING. KNOCK!”

  He barreled forward, fire blooming along his shoulders as runes in his armor flared to life. Sparks ignited, then caught—flames erupted across him like a living inferno. He was a siege weapon now, a battering ram made of fire and fury.

  The impact shattered the air.

  Wood, stone, iron—gone. Blown apart in a concussive blast that sent shards and flame spiraling into the night. I followed behind, slower, calmer, stepping through the stormcloud of debris.

  Smoke billowed from the wreckage. The mansion’s entire front had caved in. Beams groaned. Walls leaned. The upper floors began to sag forward as the structure tried to collapse on itself.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The dust choked the light. I couldn’t see more than a few feet.

  Perfect.

  Let the ghosts inside feel us coming.

  As I moved deeper into the wreckage, the dust clung to my skin, thick and choking. Through the swirling cloud, I heard the unmistakable sounds of carnage—blades clashing, bodies crashing into furniture, and the furious whoomp of flame as Jorguh unleashed another explosion.

  He was earning his keep.

  I didn’t rush. No need. Let the brute soak up the danger, let him draw every eye and every sword. I followed the quieter path. That’s where the real prey would run.

  Inside, I stepped into a vision of chaos. The foyer was littered with armored corpses—over a dozen, their bodies twisted, shattered, or burnt. Some had clearly died in the blast, others... by Jorguh’s hands. He barreled forward, a beast in his element, smashing through what remained of the structure with reckless abandon.

  But I wasn’t here for bodies.

  I needed the alchemy station. I needed Doctor Arnell. Chancellor Liam. The guard captain. Someone with answers.

  The runes etched into my blade pulsed softly—hungry. Like they sensed blood still warm in the walls.

  So I turned, leaving Jorguh to his slaughter. If he made enough noise, anyone smart would flee the opposite direction. And if he died... well, that would mean he served his purpose. A distraction wrapped in fire.

  I walked alone now. The sounds of battle grew distant behind me as I entered a long, arched hallway. Paintings lined the walls—elegant pieces depicting great hunts, political buildings, and opulent trophies. An entire life's worth of pride and vanity captured in brushstrokes. No doubt Leliana’s father had a hand in this.

  Hunter. Politician. Decorated bastard.

  I moved quietly, my footfalls muffled against thick carpet. A distant crash from behind still echoed, marking Jorguh’s path of destruction. I was the shadow that followed fire.

  Then a shape darted into view.

  A young woman—head down, eyes wide, dress torn and dirty—bolted around the corner. She didn’t see me until she was nearly on top of me. I grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, blade at her neck before her scream could leave her lips.

  “Alchemy station. Chancellor. Doctor. Speak.”

  She was no older than sixteen. Dressed in fine silks now streaked with soot. Not a soldier. Not a threat. Maybe a relative. Maybe someone Leliana knew.

  And for the first time... I hesitated.

  Why?

  Why did I care?

  The question echoed like a whisper in my head as I stared at her tear-streaked face.

  “I—I don’t know!” she cried, trembling against the cold steel.

  It was real. Her fear. Her ignorance.

  I let go. She crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

  Something inside me shifted.

  I didn’t wait to examine it.

  I moved on, into the darkness, the hallway ending in a square of four rooms—two to the left, two to the right. I swept each one quickly, efficiently.

  First door on the right—kitchen. Massive, spotless. The tools gleamed with gold trim. Arcane devices hung neatly above counters. A mage-chef’s dream. And for a fleeting second, I found it beautiful.

  Stupid.

  I spotted the staff cowering under a long table. I ignored them. They weren’t part of this war.

  First door on the left—dining hall. Or what remained of it. Half-buried under fallen beams and rubble, the long mahogany table snapped clean in two. Nothing of use.

  Second right—library. Small but pristine. Shelves encased in glass, books placed with reverent care. Whoever lived here loved knowledge... or wanted people to think they did.

  Unimportant. Still, I stepped inside, eyes scanning for something—anything.

  Second left—lavish bathroom. Gold-plated fixtures. Opulent marble. A tub that could bathe a god. I scoffed. Excess bred weakness.

  Then the world collapsed.

  A deafening boom shook the air as the floor above caved in, just meters ahead of me. Stone and wood came crashing down in a spray of dust and flame. A burning beam slammed through the front wall of the library, tearing it open like paper.

  I barely flinched—but it could’ve killed me.

  Embers floated in the air like dying fireflies.

  I stepped forward, through the breach in the wall, and emerged into a study.

  Charred oak furniture lay scattered among books and half-burned documents. A desk stood cracked at the center, its contents spilled across the floor. The smell of scorched leather and parchment filled the air.

  Something had happened here recently. And whoever had been here was either close... or already dead.

  I tightened my grip on the hilt.

  This was the kind of place secrets were kept. And I was ready to rip them out, one whisper at a time.