Marla set another loaf on the table and wiped her hands on her apron.
"Are the king's men ready for today?" she asked, not looking up.
Hendrik dipped his bread into the porridge. "They'll do their best."
"Best doesn't stop fires," she muttered.
Iratus slowed his chewing. "Ready for what?"
Hendrik shrugged, casual, the way people are when horror has become routine."Another border purge. East ridge this time."
Marla finally looked at him. "You've been asleep longer than usual. Haven't you heard?"
He shook his head.
She lowered her voice like the walls might listen."There's a war going on beyond the fields. Angels of Dark Mages and the Demons of Morality. Sounds backwards, I know. But nothing is clean anymore."
Hendrik swallowed. "The Demons of Morality started it this season. They call it purification. Villages vanish overnight. No sickness, no curses — just people judged too… incorrect."
Iratus felt something cold click into place behind his ribs.
"Mass killing," Hendrik added, as if he were talking about the weather. "For the good of the realm."
Iratus stared into his bowl.
Angels wielding hell.Demons preaching righteousness.
The world he'd wished for hadn't given him peace.
It had given him a paradox.
And against his better instincts, a thin spark of interest flared inside him.
Not fear.
Curiosity.
Iratus looked up from his bowl.
"Can I be one of them?"
The words left his mouth before he could examine them.
The room didn't stop.
It emptied.
Bread paused halfway to mouths. Someone's spoon clinked softly against wood and no one laughed at the sound.
Marla stared at him like he'd just announced he wanted to set himself on fire.
"One of… who?" she asked, though she knew.
"The Angels of Dark Mages," Iratus said. "Or the Demons of Morality. The ones who fight."
Hendrik pushed his chair back slowly. "Farmers don't grow wings," he said. "And those who do don't come back with faces their mothers recognize."
Iratus opened his mouth to argue—
The door creaked open.
A girl stepped inside with a sack of grain on her shoulder, hair tied in a messy braid, cheeks dusted with flour.
"Morning," she said brightly. "Your father said I could— oh."
She stopped when she noticed the silence.
Her eyes landed on Iratus.
"And you're awake early for once," she added, smiling. "Hello, Iratus."
Just like that, the tension cracked.
The room breathed again.
But Iratus didn't.
Because something inside him had already decided—
The fields were not going to be his whole world.