Rain hammered on the wasteland of bodies.
Hiraeth felt every drop like a nail against his burned, brittle skin. The world was dim—gray sky, gray mud, gray corpses. Only one thing had color: the soaked cloth wrapped around his right arm, glowing faintly with the dying ember of his power.
He tried to move his leg.
A hot spike of pain shot through him.
His right leg was twisted unnaturally; his left arm barely responded. His life essence—burned to save the child—left him a shell of the warrior he used to be.
He was alive, but barely.
Bodies pressed around him in every direction—soldiers from both Asterra and Vulkrad. Some had their eyes open, staring at nothing. Some were already being eaten by crows.
Hiraeth gulped a breath.
"...I can't die here. Not yet."
A Strange Sound in the Stillness
At first he thought it was thunder.
Then he heard it again.
Thump… thump… squelch.
Someone—or something—was moving among the bodies.
Hiraeth's heart thrashed like a trapped bird.
He forced his eyes open wider. Through the curtain of rain, a tall shape moved between corpses. It was dragging a long blade behind it, scraping the ground.
Enemy soldier?
Scavenger?
Beast?
Hiraeth braced himself—though he couldn't even stand.
The figure drew closer… and knelt.
A pair of gentle eyes met his.
"Hiraeth?" a trembling voice whispered.
Hiraeth blinked. "Oren…?"
Rain slid down the stranger's face, tracing across scars that hadn't been there years ago. When Hiraeth focused, his heart tightened.
Oren was barely recognizable.
His once sharp, mischievous face was gaunt. Cheekbones jutted out. His hair—once tied in a messy ponytail—was matted with mud and dried blood. But the most jarring part…
His left eye was gone.
In its place was a sunken scar, hastily stitched by rough hands. The remaining eye—brown, but clouded with exhaustion—trembled as it looked at Hiraeth.
Oren forced a crooked smile."You… look worse than me. And that's saying something."
Hiraeth's voice cracked. "Oren… your eye—"
Oren waved weakly. "Long story. Short version: don't poke around battlefields alone."
He sank beside Hiraeth, the long blade he carried clattering against the mud. Only now did Hiraeth notice Oren's right arm was also bandaged tightly, stained dark red.
This boy—no, this survivor—live