CHAPTER VII: DYNASTY

  June…

  Eve wakes up, his eyes fluttering open as the faint hum of machines and the sterile scent of antiseptic fill the air. His chest throbs, a dull ache, but the sharp sting of the bullet is gone. His bandages are wrapped tightly, the fabric pulling slightly as he shifts beneath the thin hospital blanket. He lets out a soft groan, blinking into the pale light of the room.

  The infirmary is quiet, save for the occasional beep of a monitor. The walls are painted a sterile white, but the peeling edges give away its age, hinting at years of neglect. Rust stains mar the edges of metal counters, and a few flickering fluorescent lights buzz above, casting an uneven glow. The floor is cold and smooth, the kind of polished linoleum that’s been scrubbed too many times, worn thin in some places. A single window lets in the light, but its glass is cracked, and a draft sneaks in, making the room feel a little colder than it should.

  Beside him, Cobra is still asleep, her face pale but at rest, her breathing steady. The faintest tinge of red in her hair gives her a sense of warmth that contrasts with the starkness of the room. The sound of her soft exhale is comforting, even though the chaos from outside still lingers in his mind.

  He tries to sit up, wincing at the tightness in his chest, but the bandages feel secure, almost comforting. His fingers graze the side of his head, but there's no blood, no sign of the violence that had brought him here. Slowly, he pushes himself up, feeling the weak pull of his muscles, then shifts his gaze back to Cobra. She remains motionless, her expression peaceful despite the horrors that must have led her here.

  The door creaks open, and a figure steps in———a man, tall and shadowed in the doorway. His voice, low and raspy, cuts through the silence.

  “You’re awake,” the man says, his gaze flicking to Cobra, then back to Eve. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Eve nods slowly, his throat tight as he tries to swallow the words that form on his tongue. It’s strange, being alive after everything. It’s strange to feel the absence of pain in his chest.

  Meanwhile, in a dimly lit stone cell, Gideon and Elena sit across from each other on the cold, unforgiving floor. The air smells of dampness and mildew, and the sound of distant echoes from other prisoners fills the silence between them. Gideon leans back against the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring into the shadows. His mind races, but his expression remains unreadable. His wrists are sore, the shackles weighing on him, but it’s the weight of what’s to come that bothers him more than anything.

  Elena, ever the restless one, bounces a small rubber ball against the wall. The rhythmic thud echoes through the narrow space, a fleeting sound that briefly lifts the tension in the room. The ball is a makeshift creation———scraps of scavenged rubber twisted together, crude and imperfect, but it serves her purpose.

  “You think they’ll come for us?” Elena asks.

  Her voice is light but tinged with a hint of worry. She catches the ball as it bounces back, examining it in her hands, and then tossing it again.

  Gideon doesn’t answer. His eyes trace the shadows of the cell, as though expecting someone to appear at any moment. The silence stretches, but his thoughts remain clouded, uncertain.

  Elena looks away. She simply continues to bounce the ball, her eyes flicking over to him occasionally, but she says nothing more.

  The heavy iron door to Gideon’s cell creaks open, and his head snaps toward it. His eyes narrow as he expects to see one of the guards or a familiar face from the Dynasty. But instead, it’s her. June. She steps into the dim light of the cell, her presence commanding yet somehow fragile in the cold stone surroundings. The sight of her, alive and standing before him, knocks the wind out of his chest. His heart skips a beat as if trying to catch up with the reality of her being here.

  June walks into the room. Her black gown sways with every step. Her eyes look different. They used to be full of fear and confusion. Now they look stronger. She stops at the door and looks at Gideon. Neither of them says anything at first. The silence feels heavy.

  “Get them out,” June says. Her voice is calm but firm.

  She doesn’t have to shout. Her soldiers move without needing any more orders.

  One soldier walks up to Gideon’s cell. He’s holding a key. He unlocks the door quickly. He steps back. Gideon stands slowly. His eyes stay on June. It’s like he thinks she’ll disappear if he blinks.

  “You’re alive,” he says. His voice is thick with disbelief.

  It sounds like a breath he’s been holding forever.

  June nods. Her face doesn’t show much. “I never died Gideon. Not really.”

  Another soldier unlocks Elena’s cell. Gideon watches as the door clicks open. It swings wide.

  “Elena,” he says softly now.

  He’s still trying to take in everything. Elena blinks awake. She looks confused at first. But when she sees June, she jumps up to her feet fast.

  "Where are we going?" Elena asks.

  She looks between June and the soldiers who are moving toward her.

  “Take her to the dressing room,” June orders. She doesn’t take her eyes off Gideon. “Make sure she’s treated well. She’s one of us now.”

  Elena looks confused but doesn’t argue. She’s escorted out. Gideon turns his full attention back to June.

  They both stand there for a while without speaking. The weight of their past hangs in the air.

  “You could’ve left me,” Gideon says. His voice is calm but there’s a feeling behind it he can’t name. “But you didn’t. Why?”

  June’s lips twitch. It’s a small smile but it’s guarded. Like she’s not sure how to answer.

  “I never thought I could,” she says. She steps closer to him. “After everything we’ve been through. You might think I don’t know what I’m doing but—” She stops. Her eyes narrow like she’s getting serious. “We need each other. Whether you like it or not.”

  Gideon shakes his head. It still doesn’t make sense to him. “You’ve changed.”

  “And you haven’t,” June says back.

  Her voice is sharp but there’s no anger in it. Just truth.

  Gideon stares at her. It’s like he’s trying to find the old part of her. The part he used to know. There’s a quiet moment. It feels like something is shifting but it’s hard to tell what.

  “I never wanted this life,” Gideon says. “You know that. I never wanted to be here.”

  June’s eyes soften for a second. She steps closer. She looks at his face like she’s remembering everything that’s happened.

  “None of us do,” she says quietly. “But it’s our reality. And now... now we can do something about it.”

  There’s a long pause. Gideon looks down. His jaw tightens. “You’ve become something else. You’ve become the person I never thought you would be.”

  June stands tall in front of him. She doesn’t flinch. “Maybe you’ve become the person you never thought you’d be too, Gideon.”

  He looks at her again. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel crushed by the weight of his past choices. Not all the way anyway.

  “You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you,” Gideon says after a beat. “The world’s falling apart. You can’t fix it all at once.”

  “I don’t plan to,” June answers. Her voice is steady. “But I’ll try. And I need you by my side Gideon. Whether you like it or not I’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

  Gideon opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The pull of her words catches him off guard. It feels familiar. For the first time in ages, he’s not sure what to say.

  June takes a deep breath. Then she nods to herself like she’s made up her mind. “Let’s go to the courtyard.”

  She turns. Her steps are sure as she heads for the door. But then she stops. She looks back at Gideon.

  “You’ll come with me,” she says. There’s no doubt in her voice. “Won’t you?”

  Gideon stands there for a moment. His heart feels heavy. The weight of everything presses on him. Finally, he sighs.

  “Yeah,” he says… more to himself than anyone else. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

  The courtyard is eerily quiet, the morning air still heavy with the remnants of the night. The cobblestones beneath their feet are worn and cracked, evidence of a thousand footsteps treading the same ground. June and Gideon stand at the center, the weight of their conversation settling over them like a thick fog.

  June folds her arms, standing tall and unyielding. She’s dressed in the same black gown, but now the weight of her resolve is more apparent than ever. Her eyes are sharp and calculating, but they have a softness when she looks at Gideon.

  “Gideon, I need your help,” she says, her voice steady.

  She turns slightly, scanning the area to ensure no one listens too closely.

  Gideon’s brow furrows, and the lines of his face tense with the gravity of the situation.

  He crosses his arms, watching her carefully. “I’m listening.”

  June hesitates for a moment before speaking again, her voice low and serious.

  “I’m planning to hold a peace talk with the King of the Legion. In neutral territory,” says June.

  Gideon blinks, the words hitting him harder than expected. His eyes narrow, incredulous.

  “You’re planning to talk peace with the King of the Legion? You know who that is, right? That man isn’t interested in peace. He’s a tyrant, a murderer. You’re talking about negotiating with the enemy that nearly wiped out your people.”

  “I know who he is,” June replies, her tone quiet but firm. “But that’s why this is necessary. The war———our war———it can’t go on forever. It’s tearing everything apart. I’m not asking for a full alliance, not yet. But the Legion is a powerful force, and if we’re going to have a chance at stopping this madness, I need to show them that I can be more than just another player in their game. I need to prove that I can hold my ground and that I’m willing to compromise.”

  “Compromise? With him? You’re delusional. You think the King’s going to listen to you? What makes you think he’ll even take you seriously?” Gideon scoffs, his fingers tightening into fists at his sides.

  June’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and determination.

  “I’m asking you, Gideon. I need you to vouch for me,” she steps closer to him, voice dropping to a near whisper.

  Gideon’s expression hardens, a knot forming in his chest. He shakes his head slowly, his voice rising. “Vouch for you? How the hell am I supposed to do that? I’m the last person anyone in the Legion wants to hear from. They’ll see me as a threat, a deserter, a failure. I’ve been marked as the enemy———why would they listen to anything I say?”

  June doesn’t flinch.

  “Because you’re Gideon, the once-feared leader of the Shadow Legion. You know them better than anyone else. You’ve fought beside them, bled for them, betrayed them. You’re the one person who can get their attention. You understand their culture, their rules, their way of thinking. And right now, that’s the one thing I need,” she stands firm, her gaze unwavering.

  Gideon clenches his jaw, his fingers digging into his palms. His mind races, the weight of his past decisions crashing down on him all at once. He can still see the faces of the men he once led, their trust in him shattered when he turned against the King. He can hear the whispers of betrayal and the insults that followed him as he was hunted down. He is the enemy now.

  “I’m not the man I used to be,” he mutters, almost to himself. “And you expect me to walk back into that hellhole and tell them you’re worth negotiating with? I’m the last person who can do that.”

  June steps closer still.

  “That’s the point. You’re not that man anymore. You’ve changed, Gideon. And I know, deep down, you still want to make a difference. You can’t just walk away from everything you’ve fought for, not after everything we’ve been through,” her gaze softens as she looks into his eyes.

  Gideon takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as the weight of her words presses down on him. He knows she’s right———there’s a part of him that still longs to do something worthwhile. But the fear, the doubt, gnaws at him like an animal in his chest. The Legion was his family once, and now he’s nothing more than a fugitive, a shadow of the man he used to be.

  “I don’t know, June. I’m not sure I can do this,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I’ve already lost everything. I’ve burned too many bridges.”

  “You’ve lost a lot, yes. But you haven’t lost me,” she says, her voice firm yet gentle. “You can’t undo the past, but you can still change what happens next. We can still stop this war. You don’t have to be their puppet anymore, Gideon. But you can be the key to ending this. You know how they think. You know how to make them listen. I need you to help me. Because without you, we don’t stand a chance.”

  There’s a long silence between them, the weight of the decision hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Gideon looks away, his eyes searching the empty courtyard, the sounds of distant soldiers and guards fading into the background. His mind is torn between what’s been and what could be.

  Finally, he exhales sharply, a mix of frustration and resignation filling his voice. “Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll vouch for you. But don’t expect me to make it easy. If they even let you talk, it’ll be through my name, not yours. I’ll make them see you, but only because I know them.”

  June smiles faintly, the first genuine smile Gideon has seen in what feels like ages. “That’s all I need, Gideon. Thank you.”

  For a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift, just a little. June’s eyes never leave his as she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. The connection between them, though fragile, is there. And for the first time in a long time, Gideon feels something akin to hope.

  “We’ll make it through this,” June says quietly, her voice full of conviction. “Together.”

  Gideon looks down at her hand, then back at her face. He nods slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a smile.

  “Yeah,” he says softly, the words a promise, though neither of them knows what comes next. “Together.”

  And for the first time, it feels like they might just have a chance.

  The fire crackles in the dressing room. The walls glow with soft golden light. Worn-out sofas sit around, their fabric a little faded. A wooden coffee table is piled with random knick-knacks. The smell of lavender lingers. Everything feels cozy and alive.

  Elena steps in. Her eyes light up as she sees the colors spilling from the closet. Dresses hang like rainbows come to life. Bright pinks and blues almost seem to dance. Each color feels loud and full of personality.

  She grabs a dress and slips it on. The fabric swirls around her in layers of green, red, and yellow. The colors make her ebony skin stand out, glowing against the bold shades. Her silver hair frames her face like moonlight. She takes out a white lipstick tube and glides it across her lips. The look in the mirror makes her grin. She twirls, letting the dress flare out. She looks like a painting in motion.

  The door creaks open. Gideon steps inside. His boots land softly on the floor. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes land on her, and he raises a brow.

  Elena spins again and stops, striking a pose.

  “Well? How do I look?” Her voice is full of playful confidence.

  Gideon doesn’t blink.

  “Awful,” he says, deadpan.

  She laughs so hard she has to hold her sides.

  “You’re lying. I look amazing.” She spins again, the dress swishing around her legs like a wave of colors.

  Gideon smirks a little but shakes his head.

  “If you say so.” His voice sounds gruff, but his eyes say otherwise.

  She catches his look and plants her hands on her hips.

  “Admit it,” she says, grinning. “I look perfect, don’t I?”

  He steps closer, looking her up and down.

  “You look... something,” he says, trying to sound unimpressed.

  Her laugh rings out again.

  “You’re just jealous.” She twirls one last time, the dress flowing with her. When she stops, her grin grows wider.

  Gideon sighs, a smirk tugging at his face.

  “Fine. You look good. But don’t get used to hearing it.” He shrugs.

  Elena smiles at him. She turns back to the mirror and presses a finger to her lips. “Exactly.”

  The infirmary is still. Machines hum softly in the background. The air smells sharp, like medicine that burns your nose. Pale lights bounce off the shiny floors. Tools sit in perfect rows on cold metal trays.

  Eve leans back in the bed. Thick bandages wrap around his chest. Every breath sends a dull throb through his ribs. His hand presses against the ache. He stares at the ceiling, trying to push the pain away.

  The doctor stands beside him. His face looks tired like he has not slept in days. A clipboard hangs loosely in his hand. His white coat is wrinkled, and glasses dangle from his neck. He glances at Eve and frowns like he cannot decide if he is impressed or confused.

  "You should be dead," the doctor says, his voice flat. "That bullet almost hit your heart."

  Eve shifts and winces. The bandages pull tight across his skin.

  "Feels like it did," he mutters.

  The doctor smirks a little but shakes his head.

  "Still, you're alive. That counts for something." He pauses and squints at Eve. "Where are you from, kid?"

  Eve looks away. Soldiers march outside, their boots hitting the ground in sharp, even steps. He takes a slow breath and lets it out, his chest burning.

  "Naraka," he says softly.

  The doctor freezes. His eyes narrow like he thinks he misheard.

  "Naraka? Don’t mess with me, little girl. That’s a myth." he snaps.

  "It’s real, and I’m not a girl," Eve replies, his voice calm.

  The doctor scoffs, crossing his arms. "Naraka’s supposed to be this... perfect little paradise, yeah? Green grass, plenty of food, and all that. But they say the price is blood… sacrifices to some god. Virgins, right?"

  Eve’s jaw tightens. He stares at his lap.

  "It’s true," he says.

  The doctor takes a step closer. His face turns serious. "Then how are you still breathing? If they kill Virgins, what happened?"

  Eve does not answer right away. His hands clutch the blanket. His eyes drop lower. Flashes of memory fill his head. His mother with tears running down her cheeks. His sister screams and pulls at his arm. The thick scent of incense fills the grove. The High Priest chants under the dark sky.

  "I don’t know," Eve finally says, his voice soft. "The ritual works every time. It’s always worked. But not for me."

  The doctor frowns. His face stays hard, but there is something else there now. "So you were a sacrifice?"

  Eve nods. His hands shake just a little. "They brought me to the altar. She said it was for the god. My sister begged them to stop, but no one listened." His voice drops even lower. "The god said I’m not fit or something. They said I was cursed. Then they cast me out."

  The doctor stares at him. His face softens, though he says nothing for a moment.

  "And you don’t know why?" he asks.

  Eve shakes his head. His voice is flat now. "No. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if my family is alive. All I know is that Naraka isn’t what people think it is."

  The doctor rubs his temples and sighs. "If that’s true, you’ve got a lot to explain. Stuff like this doesn’t happen for no reason."

  Eve says nothing. His eyes stay on the window. The ache in his chest feels heavier now, like a weight he can never set down.

  The path to the Legion's castle is lined with ruined statues and broken banners, their former glory faded beneath the sun. Gideon rides at the head of the delegation, flanked by two diplomats clad in somber robes. In his hand, he grips the letter sealed with the mark of the Dynasty—a silver dove pressed into crimson wax.

  As they approach the gates, the looming fortress seems to swallow them whole, its iron doors creaking open to reveal the throne room. The room is vast and cold, with stone pillars that stretch like skeletal fingers toward a vaulted ceiling. Flickering torches cast dancing shadows on the tapestries that tell stories of conquests and betrayal. At the far end of the hall sits the King, his iron mask as unreadable as ever.

  Lynx stands beside the throne, his armor gleaming like a predator ready to strike. His claws are hidden, but the way his fingers twitch suggests he’s itching to unsheath them.

  Gideon walks forward, his boots echoing on the marble floor. The soldiers flanking the room stiffen, their hands tightening on their rifles. He can feel their hatred like a tangible weight.

  The King sits motionless, the iron mask revealing no sign of acknowledgment. Lynx, however, snarls.

  "Traitor!" Lynx's voice rings out, sharp as a blade. "You dare step foot here? Men, execute him!"

  Gideon doesn't flinch as the guards begin to raise their weapons. But the King lifts a single hand, and silence falls like a guillotine.

  Gideon steps closer and kneels, holding out the letter and emblem.

  "Your Majesty," he says, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "I come bearing a message from Empress June of the Dynasty. She seeks peace."

  The King reaches out with deliberate slowness, taking the letter from Gideon’s hand. The room is so quiet that the sound of the wax seal breaking echoes like a thunderclap.

  Lynx’s eyes narrow as the King reads, his fingers drumming on the armrest of his throne.

  "This is a trick," Lynx says, stepping closer to the throne. "She’s stalling for time, or worse, planning to betray us. This is no more than a pathetic plea from a dying enemy!"

  The King lowers the letter and turns his masked face toward Lynx.

  "Enough." A single word escapes his lips, cold and final.

  Lynx clenches his fists but steps back, his jaw tight with fury.

  Gideon rises to his feet, meeting the King’s impassive gaze.

  "She proposes a meeting on neutral ground to discuss terms," he says. "She believes this war has gone on long enough. The people are suffering."

  The King tilts his head slightly as if weighing Gideon’s words. After a long pause, he leans back on his throne.

  "The peace talks will proceed," the King says, his voice like iron scraping stone. "Send word to the Dynasty. We will meet."

  Lynx’s glare burns into Gideon as the King signals for the court to be dismissed. Soldiers usher the diplomats and Gideon out, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.

  As Gideon steps back into the castle courtyard, he exhales deeply. He knows this is only the beginning.

  The King sits on his imposing throne. His face is hidden behind an iron mask. Gideon steps forward. The hall feels colder. The sound of Gideon’s boots echoes in the silence. Lynx stands next to the King. He watches Gideon closely. His body is stiff and ready to strike.

  Gideon stops a few steps away from the throne. He bows just a little.

  "Your Majesty, I’ve fulfilled my duty in bringing you Lady June’s message of peace. But there’s something else I must address. Something that threatens not just these talks, but the very stability of the Legion." Gideon’s voice is steady but strong.

  The King tilts his head slightly. The iron mask shows no emotion.

  "Speak Gideon," thus sayeth The King.

  Gideon glances at Lynx. Lynx smirks and crosses his arms. That smirk reminds Gideon of all the tricks and lies Lynx has pulled in the past. But Gideon keeps his cool. This isn’t the right time to call him out. Not yet.

  Gideon glances at Lynx. Lynx smirks and crosses his arms. That smirk reminds Gideon of all the tricks and lies Lynx has pulled in the past. But Gideon keeps his cool. This isn’t the right time to call him out. Not yet.

  "There are those within your court who may see peace as weakness. Ambitions, Your Majesty, that don’t align with the Legion's best interests." Gideon’s tone sharpens. "I cannot name names without proof, but I urge you to remain vigilant. These talks... they could be sabotaged from within."

  Lynx lets out a derisive laugh. "Vague words from a known traitor. Are we really to take him seriously, Father?"

  The King raises his hand. He stops Lynx’s words with a single move. He keeps his eyes on Gideon. "You have no proof. Yet you want me to question the loyalty of my own court?"

  "I am loyal to Lady June Your Majesty," Gideon says. He stands taller. "She’s risking everything for peace. I owe her that. I just ask that you stay aware. For her and for the Legion."

  The King leans back on his throne. The silence felt heavier than anything he could say. Finally, he nods. "I hear your warning Gideon. But be careful. If you speak out of turn your life is forfeit."

  "As it should be Your Majesty," Gideon says. He bows again.

  Lynx sneers, his voice dripping with venom. "Father, I’d be happy to remind him of his place… personally."

  The King doesn’t even look at Lynx. "That won’t be necessary. Gideon will remain under my watch. For now."

  Gideon meets Lynx’s eyes for a second. Then he walks out of the throne room. His mind is racing. The doubt is planted. Now he just needs it to grow before Lynx’s plans take hold.

  Eve and Elena stroll through a local festival. Colorful tents line the streets. The air smells like roasted meat and sweet treats. Laughter echoes from all directions. Eve grins. He never thought he’d be here. It’s too bright and too loud but it feels good. Elena bounces on her heels beside him. She grabs his arm and points to a ring toss booth.

  “Let’s try that one!” she says.

  Eve shakes his head. “You think we’ll win?”

  She shrugs. “We don’t need to win. We just need to have fun.”

  They walk over to the booth. The old man behind the counter smiles at them.

  “Try your luck,” he says.

  Elena picks up a ring. She holds it in front of her face. Her eyes squint. Then she tosses it. It misses completely. She laughs.

  “Alright my turn,” Eve says.

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  Eve picks up a ring. He doesn’t think much. He just tosses it. It hits the peg and stays.

  Elena cheers. “No way!”

  “I told you I was good at this,” he says. He walks over to the prize shelf. There’s a stuffed bunny. “I’ll take the bunny.”

  “You don’t want the plush dragon?” Elena asks.

  Eve looks at it. It’s bigger and cooler. But something about the bunny calls to him. “I like the bunny.”

  He holds it up. Elena shakes her head. “You’re weird. But I like you.”

  Eve snickers. They walk away from the booth. The sun is lower now. The festival lights are brighter. Kids are running around with balloons. Someone is juggling fire. Elena pulls him toward the game booths again.

  “This time I’m winning,” she says.

  “Uh huh,” Eve says. “Sure you are.”

  “Watch me,” she says.

  They run through the festival. Eve doesn’t care if they win. He’s laughing just watching Elena run with her arms wide open. It’s just them. Just fun. He’s glad she’s with him.

  “Race you to the food stand!” she shouts. She’s already running ahead.

  Eve smiles and takes off after her.

  Eve and Elena sit at a small outdoor table. The air is warm. The sun is just starting to set. A food stall nearby offers a mix of dishes. Eve watches Elena as she picks up a skewer from the plate between them.

  “Try this,” she says, holding it out to him.

  It’s sizzling. Steam rises from the grilled meat.

  Eve takes a bite. The meat is tender. It’s salty with a hint of sweetness. The seasoning is unlike anything he’s tasted before. His eyes widen.

  “This is amazing!” Eve exclaims.

  Elena grins. “Told you. I love this stuff.”

  She grabs a bowl of noodles next. The noodles are thin and drenched in a spicy sauce. She slurps a mouthful, her face lighting up.

  “You have to try these too,” Elena offers.

  Eve watches her, then hesitates. The sauce looks like it could be too hot for him. But he gives it a shot anyway. He twirls the noodles on his chopsticks and takes a bite. The heat kicks in after a second. It’s sharp but good. It makes his mouth tingle.

  “Okay, that’s spicy,” Eve coughs lightly.

  Elena laughs. “You’re such a wimp.”

  “I’m not a wimp,” Eve grumbles. “It’s just… intense.”

  She just smiles, taking another bite. “You’ll get used to it.”

  They move on to a different dish. This time it’s a crispy dough with sweet, sticky syrup dripping over the top. Elena bites into it, the crunch filling the air.

  “This one’s my favorite,” she says between bites. “Sweet and crunchy.”

  Eve takes a bite. The outside is warm and crisp, but the syrup inside is rich and thick. It’s a perfect balance.

  “Alright. I get it. You know how to pick good food,” Eve laughs.

  Elena leans back in her chair. “I always do.”

  They try more dishes, sampling flavors and textures, laughing at their reactions. For once, it’s not about survival or the past. It’s about food, friends, and simple moments that feel good.

  Eve and Elena are walking through the busy streets when a large truck rumbles past them. The back is filled with strange equipment and boxes. It stops in front of a big white tent, the kind used for events. A sign is attached to the side of the tent. Elena squints at it.

  “Hey, what’s a movie?” she asks, pointing at the sign.

  Eve looks at the letters, furrowing his brow.

  “I don’t know. You think it’s some kind of food?” Eve replies.

  “Guess we’ll find out,” Elena shrugs.

  They both walk over to the tent, curious. The entrance is flanked by two large curtains. Inside, rows of chairs are lined up in front of a big screen. The air smells a little musty, like old carpet and popcorn. They find two empty seats and sit down, still unsure of what’s happening.

  The lights dim. A strange noise fills the room. On the screen, a massive train speeds toward the camera. Its wheels screech against the tracks, and it’s coming straight at them.

  “What is that thing?!” Elena screams in pure shock, clutching Eve’s arm, her eyes wide.

  People around them shush, turning annoyed glances their way. Eve looks at her and then at the screen. The train crashes into the ground, and the sound is deafening. Elena winces, burying her face in her hands.

  Eve leans forward, watching the chaos on the screen, trying to make sense of it all. “What’s happening? What’s this movie about?”

  Elena peeks through her fingers. “I don’t know. It’s loud.”

  They sit through the rest of the film in awkward silence, glancing at each other every so often. When the lights finally come up, they stand and shuffle out of the tent.

  “That was... strange,” Eve says, rubbing his eyes.

  Elena looks up at him, excited. “I think we should watch another one.”

  Eve shakes his head. “No. I think I’ve had enough movies for today.”

  Elena doesn’t let it go. She points across the street to a large roller coaster, its tracks twisting high into the air.

  “But that looks fun! We should try that!” says Elena.

  Eve glances at the roller coaster. The way it jerks and loops in the air makes him hesitate.

  “Is it safe?” Eve asks.

  “Who knows? But it’ll be fun either way!” Elena grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Eve looks at her and, for a moment, thinks about the thrill and the unknown.

  Finally, he shrugs. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

  The palace stands tall. Its roofs curve like the wings of a phoenix. The beams and columns are covered in carvings of old gods and mythical creatures. The carvings sparkle with gold. The walls are painted deep red. They are smooth and feel almost wet as if they’ve been polished by the hands of those who have lived here for years.

  The air smells faintly of sandalwood. The scent mixes with a cool breeze that flows through the open courtyards. Marble paths twist around the big garden. The stones are worn down from a thousand footsteps. Flowers grow between the stones. Their white petals shine in the sunlight as they filter through the latticework above.

  In the distance, fountains trickle, their soft murmurs almost drowned by the rustling of bamboo leaves that sway gently in the wind. The sound is calming and rhythmic, like the pulse of the earth itself. The courtyard is alive with the flutter of butterflies and the chirping of unseen birds, their calls light and melodic.

  The palace walls are huge. They have windows framed in jade. The windows have patterns carved into them. The light that comes through makes soft shadows on the floors. The hallways are wide and quiet. The only sound is the soft swish of servants’ robes as they hurry by. They move quickly and quietly.

  At the center of the palace is the throne room. It is huge and powerful. The ceilings are high. They have silk banners hanging from them. The banners move gently in the breeze. Each one shines with bright colors. The throne sits on a raised platform made of smooth stone. The backrest is carved with vines that twist into knots.

  The whole place feels full of life. It’s ancient and timeless like history is quietly watching everyone who steps inside.

  Gideon steps onto the balcony, his boots making little sound on the cold stone beneath him. The cool evening breeze tugs at his hair, ruffling the strands as his eyes settle on the distant horizon. The sun has just dipped below the mountains, casting the sky in streaks of purple and orange.

  June stands there, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of lanterns from the palace. She looks like she's been here for a while, lost in thought, staring out into the darkening landscape. Her presence is almost serene, like a calm amidst the storm.

  "Where’s Eve and Elena?" Gideon asks, breaking the silence.

  He glances over his shoulder at June, his brow creasing slightly as if he expects them to be around somewhere.

  “They’re at a festival in the nearby town,” June replies, her voice light, almost wistful. She doesn’t turn to him, but her gaze softens. "It’s a good time to relax. You should join them."

  Gideon shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve had enough of crowds for one day.”

  June glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll stay with you, then.”

  The words hang between them, and for a moment, neither speaks. The quiet stretches on, the hum of distant music from the festival faint in the background. Gideon leans against the stone railing, arms crossed, his mind clearly elsewhere. June stands beside him, not pressing him, but there’s something in her posture that suggests she’s waiting for him to say something, anything.

  Finally, after a long silence, Gideon speaks, his voice rough, like the words are dragged out of him.

  "Do you ever wonder if we're just... chasing something we can't have?" His eyes stay fixed on the darkening horizon, though his thoughts seem far away. "Every step we take, it feels like we’re running from something. Or maybe we're running toward it, but I don’t know what it is anymore."

  June watches him quietly, her expression unreadable, but there's a flicker in her eyes.

  “You’re not the only one," she says, her tone soft but steady. "I’ve spent so many years trying to escape my life. And now, I tried to accept it. But sometimes, it feels like everything I’ve done has been to fill a hole that only gets bigger the more I try."

  Gideon chuckles, though it’s more a bitter exhale than anything else.

  “Yeah. I get that.” His voice drops, quieter now. “And when you think you’ve got it figured out, everything falls apart. You look around, and all you see are the people you’ve hurt, the things you’ve done. You can’t undo it. You can’t change it.”

  June looks at him now, her eyes sharper than before, studying him. “Maybe we can’t change the past, but we can change how we move forward. The question is... do we want to?”

  He turns to face her, his expression unreadable, his lips set in a thin line. "I don't know anymore. I don't know if I even have the strength to try."

  She steps closer, her voice gentle, but firm. “You don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got people who care about you. Whether you want to admit it or not, you do.”

  Gideon looks at her, really looks at her, for the first time in a while. His eyes soften, just a little, but the weight of the world still presses down on his shoulders. “And what about you, June? Who’s there for you?”

  She hesitates, just for a moment, her gaze dropping to the stone floor beneath them.

  "I suppose that’s a question I’ve been asking myself for a long time," she says quietly. "But maybe... maybe that’s something I need to figure out on my own."

  The silence between them stretches again, but this time, it’s comfortable. They stand side by side, watching the stars begin to appear in the night sky. There's an unspoken understanding between them, a shared burden neither of them wants to acknowledge fully, but both understand too well.

  After a while, Gideon lets out a long breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Alright, June. I don’t know what’s next, but... maybe it’s worth trying.”

  June smiles, a small but genuine thing, as she watches him.

  “That’s all any of us can do.” She leans against the railing, the evening breeze stirring the hem of her clothes. "For now, though, let’s just enjoy the quiet."

  And for the first time in a long while, Gideon allows himself to simply be.

  The night has arrived, with the scent of flowers drifting in the breeze. Gideon and June stand side by side on the balcony, the palace behind them quiet and still. Far off, the festival’s distant sounds blend with the soft rustling of the trees.

  A burst of color lights up the sky, followed by the crackling sound of fireworks. The bright reds, blues, and golds paint the dark canvas above, casting fleeting shadows on their faces.

  Gideon’s eyes flicker toward the explosion of lights, his posture stiff, but his gaze softens as another series of fireworks lights up the sky.

  June watches him for a moment before speaking, her voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the night. "I never get tired of this. It’s... strange, isn’t it?"

  He glances over at her, his expression unreadable. "Strange how?"

  "The way something so simple can feel so... peaceful. Even in the middle of all this chaos." She shrugs, not looking away from the sky. “It’s like a moment of calm that we don’t get often.”

  Gideon lets out a low breath, his lips twitching into something like a smile, though it’s faint. "Yeah. I suppose it is."

  The next firework explodes in a brilliant shower of sparks, lighting up the entire night for a brief moment. For a second, the world seems to pause, and they both stand there, watching it, sharing the fleeting silence.

  June sighs contentedly, still watching the sky. "Maybe that’s all we can ask for, right? A few moments of peace."

  Gideon doesn’t answer at first, his eyes fixed on the next round of fireworks. Finally, he speaks, his voice quieter than usual. “Yeah. Moments of peace.”

  They watch in silence as the fireworks continue, their colors spilling across the sky like fleeting dreams.

  Gideon watches June in quiet confusion. The question weighs heavily on him. How could she be alive? He’s seen her body and felt her pulse slow to nothing. Yet here she stands, whole, alive in front of him.

  He clears his throat, trying to steady his voice. "How... how are you alive, June?"

  June pauses for a moment, her hands wrapped around the edge of her robe. The air between them feels heavy, a tangle of unspoken things. She looks up at him, her eyes tired but resolute.

  "I didn't know at first," she says, her voice soft. "I didn’t remember much. When I woke up... I was in a strange place."

  She shifts her weight, eyes dropping to the floor for a brief second. "The soldiers… they found me. They rushed me to a surgeon. The place... it was more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t remember how I got there. Everything felt hazy."

  She pulls her robe back slightly, revealing a scar along her back, jagged and raw, as though it had been carved into her flesh. The edges of it seem to shimmer slightly, almost unnatural in its sharpness.

  Gideon steps closer, his eyes tracing the scar, his hand instinctively reaching out. His fingers hover just above it, unsure for a moment.

  June winces slightly, the movement barely noticeable, but she doesn’t pull away.

  "I remember the symbol. The one on the wall. It had the word 'Herald' in it. But I don’t know what it means." She exhales softly, closing her eyes.

  Gideon’s fingers gently touch the scar, a quiet shiver running through him as he feels the raised skin beneath his touch. His thumb traces the scar’s path, slow and deliberate.

  June flinches, her body stiffening under his touch, but she doesn’t pull away. For a moment, the room is silent except for the soft sound of their breathing, the weight of her history hanging between them. Gideon’s touch is careful, and respectful, like he’s afraid she’ll shatter if he presses too hard.

  "It must have been hard," he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper.

  June doesn’t answer immediately. She simply closes her eyes, as if trying to hold onto some semblance of herself.

  "I didn’t want to survive," she admits softly, her voice cracking. "But here I am."

  Gideon pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. There’s a softness in his eyes now, a quiet understanding of the pain she’s been through. The weight of it sits between them, unspoken, as the room feels strangely still in the wake of their silence.

  "You didn’t want to survive?" he asks, his voice almost an afterthought.

  June looks up at him, her expression is guarded but soft. "Sometimes... it feels like it’s all a mistake. But I have to keep going. For whatever comes next."

  Gideon’s heart beats a little faster, his breath shallow as he reaches up, his hand brushing against June’s shoulder. She doesn’t pull away. He can feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her robe, the soft, steady rhythm of her pulse beneath his fingertips. He hesitates for just a moment, uncertainty clouding his thoughts, but her eyes———those dark, knowing eyes———encourage him.

  He leans in slowly. His lips touch the scar on her back. His fingers slide down her arm. He kisses her gently. June breathes out softly. Her eyes closed. Her body shivers just a little. He pulls back but stays close. There’s still warmth between them.

  June turns in his arms. She looks at him. Her eyes are intense. He moves in again. This time his lips meet hers. The kiss is soft at first. She kisses him back. Her hands slide up to his chest. Her fingers curl into his shirt. He deepens the kiss. They move closer. Their lips part. Their bodies press together.

  At first, the kiss is slow. It feels unsure. But then it gets stronger. Everything that’s happened between them feels close. Gideon pulls her closer. The space between them vanishes. June presses her body against his. Her hands touch his neck. Her fingers trace his jaw. She’s holding onto him tightly.

  Gideon’s breath catches. Everything else disappears. The war. The lies. The broken promises. It’s just him and June now. The world outside is gone. She pulls him back in. Her lips part. She’s eager now. Her body moves with his. Their kiss gets faster. They both seem to want to say something but can’t find the words.

  The room fades away. It’s just the heat between them. The soft sound of their breaths. They feel like they belong together. June pulls away just a little. Her forehead rests on his. She’s out of breath. Her eyes are closed. She still holds him close.

  "I never thought…" June whispers.

  Her voice shakes as she tries to speak. Gideon kisses her again. His arms wrap around her. He pulls her closer.

  Right now they don’t need words. They just need each other.

  The servant walks quietly through the halls of June’s palace. His Tang suit barely makes a sound against the stone floor. He looks around quickly as he gets close to her door. His face is calm but inside he feels a twist in his stomach. With steady hands, he lifts his sleeve to show a tattoo on his forearm. It’s the symbol of the Heralds. He quickly pulls his sleeve back down to hide the mark.

  He glances down at the small vial in his hand. He grips it tight. The pill inside is strong. It will make June fall into a deep sleep. A sleep she won’t wake from for hours.

  He enters the dim room. He walks to the wine bottle on the table. His hands move fast and smoothly. He opens the bottle and drops the pill inside. He watches the liquid swirl for a moment. Then he seals the bottle back up. He makes sure no one will notice.

  After one last look around, he slips out of the room. He disappears into the night.

  Meanwhile, June and Gideon sit together in the living room. They hold hands. Their fingers fit together like they’ve done this a thousand times. Everything feels calm and peaceful as they talk about nothing and everything. The candlelight flickers softly. Shadows dance over their faces making it feel like the world is just for them.

  Gideon smiles at her. It’s a smile she hasn’t seen before. It’s rare. It makes him feel warm inside. He hasn’t let himself feel this way in a long time.

  They stand up, still holding hands. They walk to her room. The door opens with a soft creak.

  June pours wine into two glasses. She does it slowly and carefully. The smell of the wine fills the air. It’s rich and inviting.

  Gideon takes his glass. Their eyes meet as they both take a sip. The wine is smooth. They don’t think much about it. They clink their glasses together. It’s a silent toast to whatever comes next. To the night. To peace. To something they don’t fully understand.

  Then without thinking, they kiss. The world around them fades away for a moment. The kiss is soft and gentle. It feels like the world is far away.

  But then something changes.

  Gideon feels a slight dizziness tug at him as if the room is tilting just a little too much. June sways slightly, her eyes fluttering. Her breath becomes shallow, her face pale. They both blink, the sudden fatigue overwhelming them. Their heads spin, and before they can react, both of them slip into unconsciousness, their bodies crumpling gently onto the bed, side by side, their hands still intertwined.

  The servant returns, his heart pounding in his chest. The silence of the room feels deafening as he enters. He moves toward June’s bed, his eyes settling on her peaceful form. There’s no sign of movement, no indication that she’s awake. He knows she won’t be for a while.

  He pulls a gleaming knife from his sleeve, its blade catching the dim light. With careful precision, he approaches the bed and raises the knife, letting it hover for a moment before plunging it into June’s heart.

  The soft gasp she lets out is muted by her sleep, her body reacting in a futile attempt to wake up. But it’s too late.

  The servant watches as June’s blood stains the sheets, his expression cold, unwavering. He mutters the words he’s been told to say, words that feel like they carry the weight of a hundred soldiers marching to war.

  “For the Heralds, For the Age of Lynx.”

  He stands there for a moment, watching her still form. Then, without another word, he slips back into the shadows, disappearing just as quietly as he came.

  Gideon’s eyes snap open. A little light slips through the curtains. His body feels heavy like the sleep is still holding him down. He moves a little and then he sees June. She’s lying still next to him. A chill runs through him.

  The knife is in her chest. It’s shiny and covered in blood. For a moment Gideon can’t move. His mind is screaming. But his body won’t listen.

  A servant stumbles into the room, her eyes wide with horror as she spots June’s body. She drops the water jug she was carrying and screams.

  "Guards! Guards!" she yells, her voice shrill, panicked.

  Gideon tightens his grip on the blanket. His fingers shake. But he doesn’t move. He can’t. His mind is a mess. The knife. The blood. June… cold and still.

  A few moments later soldiers rush into the room. Their boots make heavy sounds on the stone floor. They look at the scene. They see Gideon still in bed. His chest rises and falls with slow breaths. One soldier steps forward. His face is serious.

  "By order of the Empress’ death, you are under arrest for murder and high treason!"

  The words hit Gideon like a punch in the stomach. He tries to speak but nothing comes out. His eyes go from June to the soldiers.

  One of the soldiers grabs his arm and pulls him up. Another ties his hands behind him with rope. Gideon tries to fight back but he’s too weak. His mind is foggy. His heart feels too lost to do anything but let them drag him away.

  The King and Lynx sit in the grand hall of an orchard mansion on the old border… the designated area where they are supposed to hold the peace talks. They wait for June and her diplomats. Their voices are low but tense.

  "They’re late," the King mutters. His voice sounds calm but annoyed. His fingers tap the chair arm. "Irritating."

  Lynx smirks slightly, eyes glinting with impatience. “Perhaps they’ve had some difficulty, Your Majesty.”

  The King's eyebrow arches, creating deep creases in his forehead. He turns his head towards the large wooden door, waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps but hears nothing. The silence is stifling as the diplomats fail to arrive on time. Tension fills the grand hall, and every second feels like an eternity. Just when it feels like they can’t wait anymore, the door to the grand hall bursts open with a deafening crash.

  "The Empress is dead!" a Dynasty soldier bursting in says, panting. His face is pale. "This is an act of war. Your spy, Gideon, killed her!"

  Lynx’s lips curl into a small smile. His eyes flash with dark amusement. He quickly hides it.

  "Preposterous," Lynx says. "Gideon would never..."

  More soldiers from the Dynasty flood in, rifles raised, eyes wild with murder.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  The first shots ring out, breaking the tense silence like thunder. Bullets ricochet off the marble walls, splintering the grand chandelier above.

  The King does not flinch.

  He stays sitting. His face doesn’t change. His hands rest calmly on the armrests. His fingers are pressed together like he’s deep in thought. Nothing around seems to faze him.

  The Praetorian Guards move fast. They return fire with perfect aim. Gunshots explode in the air. The guards stand strong between the King and the attackers. They move like one team. Every step is planned.

  There’s an exchange of death and gunfire.

  A thunderous roar of screams erupts as the army clash. Men and women in battle gear struggle against each other, swords clanging in a chaotic symphony.

  A man swings his axe. The blade hits the ground next to his enemy. The soldier steps back but doesn't stop. He swings again and lands a blow. A scream rings out. A man falls holding his head.

  A Legionnaire swings his sword with a grunt. The blade crashes into a Dynasty soldier's shield. The shield splinters, pieces flying. The soldier behind it falls back, but before he can get up, a boot stomps on his chest. His breath leaves him in a short gasp.

  Gunshots explode. A soldier ducks behind a pillar. He peeks out to aim his rifle and fires.

  BANG.

  An enemy soldier drops to the floor. His body lies still.

  Metal clashes against metal, sharp and deafening in the vast hall. A Legionnaire’s helmet flies off with a resounding crack, revealing his sweat-soaked face. His opponent’s sword arcs down, ferocious and unrelenting. The Legionnaire raises his blade just in time, steel meeting steel in a shuddering impact. Their faces hover inches apart, breaths quick and heavy.

  They circle, steps deliberate, eyes locked. A low swing cuts through the air. The Legionnaire twists away, his boots scraping the stone floor. He surges forward, his blade slamming into his opponent’s with a burst of sparks, the clang reverberating through the hall like a war drum.

  Shouts and sparks slash through the air. A soldier stumbles, his legs giving way beneath him. He hits the ground with a dull thud. His hand twitches but doesn’t move. Blood pools around him, dark and slick against the stone.

  A rifle fires, loud and sharp. A soldier jerks back, his chest heaving. He crumbles to the floor, his fingers twitching but no longer able to hold his weapon.

  The floor is a sea of fallen bodies. The sound of footsteps pounding over blood-slick stone fills the room as soldiers fight on, undeterred by the chaos that surrounds them.

  The King strides toward the back of the hall, where his horse waits. He is calm, his steps measured, unaffected by the frenzy raging behind him. His hand brushes the reins, and with a swift motion, he mounts the horse, his silhouette framed by the grand doors. The sounds of battle continue to roar through the hall, but the King’s attention never wavers.

  He spurs the horse forward, his gaze forward and unwavering.

  Without a single glance back, he rides out of the hall, leaving the chaos to unfold in his wake. His departure is quiet, almost serene———a stark contrast to the violence that rages behind him. The grand hall falls into eerie silence, save for the echo of retreating hooves.

  “I’ve had enough,” the King says with a deep sigh. “Waste of time.”

  “Fire!” The Tribune bellows, his hand raised in a sharp, unyielding motion.

  His voice is a booming command, cutting through the roaring winds and chaos of the battlefield. The ground trembles beneath them.

  From the massive cannon, a single shot erupts—a force so immense it feels like the earth itself shudders in response. The sky splits with a deafening roar as the artillery gun, its barrel 50 meters in length and a towering 80 centimeters in diameter, releases the titanic round. The force of the shot sends shockwaves rippling through the land. The very air vibrates, the ground quaking with the sheer magnitude of the blast.

  A ripple of fear races through the Dynasty capital as the distant roar reaches the citizens. Before they can even react, the earth bucks beneath their feet, shaking as if the very foundations of the world are being torn apart. Cracks run through the streets as buildings shudder. Glass shatters, walls buckle, and an earthquake rolls over the city like a massive tidal wave.

  In the Legion territory, the citizens raise their arms in salute, eyes wide with pride as the shot rips through the sky. Their cheers echo, shaking the air with their joy and reverence for the might of their empire. They know the power they wield, the fear they strike into the hearts of their enemies.

  But in the Dynasty capital, panic erupts. Screams fill the air as people run for cover, clutching their children and loved ones, desperate for safety. The very ground seems to devour them as the streets crack open. Towers crumble, and the great city———the heart of the Dynasty———begins to collapse in a sea of dust and flames.

  KABOOM!

  The explosion from the artillery shell is a force of nature, consuming everything in its path. The shockwave of the blast turns buildings to rubble, tearing apart structures and scattering debris like confetti in the wind.

  The capital city is no more.

  A mushroom cloud of fire and smoke rises high into the air, towering over the remains of the Dynasty’s once-proud capital. The air is thick with ash, and the screams of the dying are drowned by the roar of the blast and the final, fatal tremor that shakes the land. The city, its people, its history———all are reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye.

  From the forts lining the Dynasty’s borders, soldiers scramble to return fire. Rockets line the ramparts, their warheads shimmering in the fading light. They are launched in unison, a desperate attempt to retaliate, to send a message. The air hums with the deadly trajectory of their missiles, but the odds are overwhelming. The ground shakes as the rockets streak toward the sky, their flames trailing behind them like fiery comets.

  But it’s too late. The Legion has already struck, and the Dynasty capital is lost to the flames.

  WAR.

  The sky over the Legion’s capital goes dark as the Dynasty’s rockets scream through the air. They strike. Each explosion shakes the ground, making the buildings rattle. The air is full of the sound of blasts and the earth splits open with each strike. Fire blooms in the distance, rising like burning beacons. The first rocket hits the ground with a massive crash, tearing apart the streets and sending debris flying. Buildings crumble like paper and fire spreads, licking at the sky.

  Once a shining city, the Legion’s capital is now in chaos. The streets are covered in rubble, broken glass, and twisted metal. Smoke fills the air and the sharp smell of burning wood and fuel stings the nose. People run for cover with fear and confusion in their eyes as rockets keep falling and the ground shakes beneath them.

  But the Legion is ready.

  Outside the city walls, the Legion’s armies are assembled, their numbers vast and determined. The air hums with the clattering of war machines and the pounding of hooves. Ironclad soldiers gather in tight formations, their armor gleaming under the smoke-filled sky. Rows upon rows of cavalrymen sit tall on horseback, their weapons raised in anticipation, ready to charge into the heart of the battle. The roar of engines fills the air as armored cars rumble forward, their massive wheels kicking up dirt and dust, carrying the first wave of soldiers toward the battlefield.

  The first attack from the Dynasty comes from the sky. Rockets fall one after another, tearing through the air with fiery blasts. They hit the ground with huge explosions, sending dust and fire into the air. The ground shakes, but the Legion doesn’t back down. With a shout, the command is given.

  The Legion charges.

  Armored cars rush forward, spreading dust as they speed across the battlefield. The horses of the cavalry thunder in unison, their hooves drumming the earth. The soldiers’ faces are grim, eyes locked on the Dynasty forces ahead. The two armies close in on each other, the tension thick in the air.

  Then the battlefield explodes.

  The Dynasty charges back. Their vehicles roar to life and their horses race into the fray. Soldiers in dark armor shout their battle cries as they ride hard into the fight. Rockets fly from their lines, streaking through the air, exploding in the distance. The ground trembles with every blast.

  The armies meet.

  The clash is thunderous, a cacophony of steel on steel, the sound of war reaching a fever pitch. The Legion soldiers’ swords meet the Dynasty’s blades with a high-pitched screech, sparks flying in all directions. Bodies are sent flying as men and women fight, struggling to keep their footing amidst the chaos. The clash of shields, the roar of battle cries, and the screams of the wounded fill the air as the two forces collide, each unwilling to yield.

  The cavalry of the Legion slams into the Dynasty’s lines. They swing their swords with deadly precision, cutting down anyone who gets in their way. The Dynasty’s infantry pushes back, their spears thrusting forward with brutal force. Blood stains the dirt as explosions continue to shake the earth above.

  On the edges of the battlefield, the first of the armored cars meet their targets, the machines lurching with the impact of grenades and rockets. Some soldiers are thrown from their vehicles, their bodies tumbling across the battlefield like ragdolls, while others fight desperately to regain control. Explosions rip through the air, rattling the bones of all who are caught in their wake.

  The war is pure chaos. Both sides fight with fury, fear, and determination. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of blood. Every explosion, every clash, every scream pulls them closer to the end.

  The battlefield is alive, swirling with violence and chaos. Every strike could be the last. And through it all, the fight continues. The fate of the Legion and the Dynasty hangs in the balance, written in the blood of the fallen.

  The hotel is a mess. It’s all twisted steel and shattered concrete. Elena picks her way through the wreckage. Dust fills the air. The smell of burning stuff sticks to her nose. She pushes aside chunks of stone and metal. Her hands hurt but she keeps going. Sweat drips down her face.

  "Eve!" she calls. Her voice is shaky. "Eve, where are you?"

  There’s no answer. Her heart pounds. She digs harder, shoving aside pieces of debris. She doesn’t care that her hands are cut. The world around her is sharp but she doesn’t stop. She can’t.

  Then she hears it. A weak cough. Elena freezes. She takes a deep breath. She leans in closer and starts moving the rubble again. Her hands are shaking.

  And there he is.

  Eve is half-buried. His face is hard to see. His eyes are closed. His body is limp. There’s blood under his head. Elena feels like she can’t breathe. She drops to her knees beside him. Her hands shake as she clears the rubble away.

  But it’s too heavy.

  She pulls harder but it won’t move. She slaps his cheek.

  "Eve! Wake up!" Her voice breaks when she says it.

  Eve’s eyes flutter open. He groans. His head tilts. “Elena...?”

  "Yeah, it’s me!" She says, her heart racing. "You need to help me. We have to get out of here."

  He looks around, confused. Then he starts pushing against the rubble. He groans, straining to move. Elena doesn’t wait. She grabs his hand and pulls him. The chunk of concrete crushing Eve is too heavy.

  Eve shoves the concrete with all his strength.

  The chunk moves. It rolls away.

  Elena grabs Eve by the armpits and pulls him to safety.

  Eve coughs and pushes himself up. His arms shake but he stands. Elena steps back. She can’t believe it. He looks tired but he’s standing. There’s a fire in his eyes. He moves like he’s got more energy than she thought he had.

  “How are you able to do that?” Elena asks, her voice breathless. “How are you able to do all those weird things?”

  Eve stares at his hands. He looks lost.

  “I don’t know.” His voice is far away. “I just… do it.”

  Elena’s face softens but she doesn’t have time for answers. She grabs his hand and pulls him toward the palace.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” she says. “We need to go.”

  Eve stumbles but catches up. They run through the city. The wreckage is all around them.

  Elena and Eve run through the ruins of June’s palace. Their feet slam against the scorched stone. The palace is a mess. Broken columns and tiles are scattered everywhere. The air smells like smoke and burning wood. The once beautiful rooftops are destroyed. Jagged beams stick out from the ruins. Ash hangs in the air. The sound of crackling flames echoes around them.

  “Elena, we have to find him,” Eve says.

  His voice is rough from all the smoke.

  Elena nods but doesn’t slow down.

  “Gideon! Gideon!” she calls.

  But there’s no answer.

  They weave through the maze of crumbled walls and ruined courtyards. The once beautiful tiles that lined the floors are now shattered pieces, scattered like broken dreams. Massive wooden beams from the palace’s upper floors have collapsed, their jagged edges jutting from the ground like the bones of a fallen beast. The once-lush garden is nothing but a graveyard of scorched plants and overturned statues.

  “Gideon!” Elena calls again.

  Her voice sounds urgent now.

  Eve’s face tightens with worry, but he says nothing. His gaze darts across the wreckage, his mind whirling. He moves faster, stepping over broken stone and shattered glass, until they reach the grand staircase.

  But it’s gone. The stairs that once led to the lavish upper floors are nothing more than a heap of rubble now. Elena clenches her fists, her heart sinking, but she doesn’t stop.

  “Elena! Down here,” Eve says.

  He points to a dark doorway at the bottom of the stairs. It leads to the dungeon.

  They head down. Every step makes an echo. The air gets colder and damper. The stone walls are covered in water. A single torch flickers and casts long shadows on the floor.

  At the end of the hallway, they find him.

  Gideon is sitting against a wall. His back is against the bars of a small cell. His eyes are empty. His face looks tired and thin. He doesn’t look like the strong Gideon they used to know. His clothes are torn and dirty. His hair is wild.

  Eve steps forward. He feels like the weight of everything is on him.

  “Gideon,” he says softly. “We’re getting you out of here.”

  Gideon doesn’t move. His voice is flat.

  “There’s nothing left for me.” He looks down at the floor. “June’s gone. The palace is gone. I’ve lost everything.”

  “You’re not alone. We need you.” Elena steps forward. Her voice is full of feeling.

  Gideon lifts his head a little. He looks at Elena but his eyes are sad.

  “You don’t understand. There’s nothing to fight for. Nothing to live for.” His words are slow and tired. “What’s the point?”

  Eve clenches his fists. “The point is you’re still here. You can’t give up.”

  Gideon laughs but it sounds empty. He drops his head again. “I’ve failed everyone. June’s dead because of me. Lynx won. What difference can I make?”

  Elena steps closer. “You can’t think like that. You’re still here. We’re still here. You have to find something to live for.”

  But Gideon doesn’t answer. He just stares at the cold stone floor. His grief is heavy. The silence between them feels thick.

  “You think it’s over? It’s never over. You owe it to June. You owe it to all of us to keep going,” Eve speaks again. His voice cracks.

  Gideon looks up slowly. His eyes are empty.

  “She’s gone. I couldn’t protect her. Now there’s nothing left.” His voice is barely a whisper.

  Eve steps closer. “Don’t do this Gideon. Don’t give up. We can still change things.”

  But Gideon shakes his head. He lets out a deep sigh. “I can’t. I’ve lost too much. I’m done.”

  The only sound is the crackling of the fire outside. The world is burning.

  Eve stands there. His throat feels tight. He wants to scream. He wants to shake Gideon. But instead, he just watches him. He sees his old friend who used to be strong. Now Gideon is just a shadow of himself.

  Elena says nothing. She looks at Gideon. She wants to believe he’ll come back. She wants to believe he’ll find hope. But deep down she knows it might be too late. She looks at Eve. He gives her a silent nod. Together they turn and walk away.

  They leave Gideon in his silence. They leave him with his pain.

  As they walk up from the dungeon, the weight of the world presses down on them. The palace is burning. The war rages on. And Gideon is lost in his grief.