They hadn't moved far—just beyond the crater's lip to where the scorched earth flattened into a makeshift shelf of stone and ash. The battlefield remained visible below, a smoking tapestry of shattered wood and frozen rot that caught the pale moonlight. Close enough to see if the army returned, far enough to breathe without tasting the Harbinger's decay.
Valen huffed as he drove a sharpened stick into the ground. "Damn roots," he muttered, shaking dirt from his hands. "Every patch of soil in this place is cursed."
Beside him, Tar crouched like a boulder in thought, helping without a word. He moved with a kind of slow, deliberate care setting stones, unrolling the weather-beaten tarps from their packs. Valen tried to ignore how small he felt next to the Minotaur's sheer bulk, even in silence. He offered a sideways glance and nudged a pile of firewood toward him with his foot.
"You ever think he actually sleeps?" Valen asked, half-joking. "Thal, I mean."
Tar didn't answer. Just blinked slowly, then glanced toward the dim glow where Nyra knelt beside Thal's still body.
Valen followed the gaze. "Yeah. Me neither." He paused, then added quieter, "Still don't like how quiet you are, big guy. But... thanks. For not letting me break my neck back there."
Tar grunted—a low, gravelly sound that might have been acknowledgment. His massive hand settled on the stone Valen was struggling to move, lifting it easily into place. Valen nodded, and they continued their work without further words, the silence less heavy than it had been in the cabin eight years ago.
Near the centre of camp, the firelight danced across Nyra's back. She hadn't moved much since they'd laid Thal down on a roll of salvaged blankets, a cloak draped over him like a shroud. His chest rose and fell shallow, even but he didn't stir. Not a flinch. Not a twitch. The silver scarring across his ribs caught the firelight—smooth, metallic lines where the potion had knit bone and flesh back together. He looked peaceful, almost human in his stillness, no longer the bleeding, broken thing they'd pulled from the crater's floor.
It was the first time they'd seen him truly still, not meditating, not recovering—sleeping.
And it disturbed something quiet in all of them.
Alinda sat nearby, a little apart but still close enough to be watching. Her arms rested casually over her bent knees, black armor dimmed by dirt and blood. A soft wind stirred the edges of her cloak but her gaze was fixed—not on the trees or shadows but on Thal's face.
Nyra shifted, brushing a bit of ash from Thal's cheek with the edge of her thumb. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "He's never slept. Not in all the time I've known him. He just... rests. Eyes open. A few hours, maybe but this?" She glanced sideways. "He looks human."
Alinda's smile was faint but real. "He always did. You just stopped looking."
Nyra studied her, the firelight reflecting in her crimson eyes. The silence between them stretched. Then finally, softly:
"That potion," Nyra said. "What was in it?"
Alinda didn't answer right away. She leaned back on one hand, the motion casual but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as if weighing the question, or the asker. "Why do you want to know?"
Nyra looked back at Thal. "Because it worked. Too well. It wasn't just healing. I saw muscle knit together like it never tore. Bones reshaping. Even his breath changed." Her gaze turned back. "That wasn't normal."
Alinda gave a noncommittal shrug, the corner of her mouth curling. "Nothing about us is."
Nyra frowned. "'Us'?"
The pause that followed was deliberate. Measured. Alinda's gaze dropped to Nyra's hands—specifically, to the way the firelight seemed to catch the blood beneath her skin, the faint tremor in her fingers that had been there since the crater.
Alinda's voice was calm but with the faintest curl of amusement. "You remind me of someone," she said. "Someone who didn't ask questions either. He just... was. Unapologetically."
Nyra stiffened. "That doesn't answer what was in the vial."
"No," Alinda said, turning back toward the fire. "It doesn't."
The silence bristled again.
But Nyra was already thinking, tracing back to an earlier conversation one held around a fire not unlike this, on a cold night not too far gone. Thal's words came back in fragments. He had spoken low, with a strange mix of awe and grief.
Nyra's breath caught.
She looked at Alinda again really looked. The controlled strength. The ease with which she carried herself. The way even now, relaxed by the fire, she was coiled just enough to strike if needed and then there were the blood-weapons she'd formed during the Harbinger fight, the crimson whips and blades she'd shaped from her own wounds to hold Fall at bay.
"You..." Nyra began slowly. "Thal mentioned someone once. Said they might've been a berserker."
Alinda turned her head slightly, not facing her. Not answering but the stillness said everything.
"He wouldn't say your name." Nyra added. "But he said she made him believe being one didn't mean being lost."
That got a reaction.
Alinda's eyes softened just briefly and her jaw moved like she was chewing on words she wasn't ready to say. She didn't look at Nyra. Didn't thank her. Didn't nod but her voice, when it came, was quieter than before.
"He remembered that?" she murmured, mostly to herself. "After all this time..."
Nyra narrowed her eyes. "So it was you."
"I thought," Alinda murmured, almost to herself, "that maybe I'd faded in that war-forged mind of his. Guess not."
She smiled faintly, then finally looked at Nyra. "It's a rare thing. To be remembered by someone like Thal. He forgets most things that bleed." She let out a slow breath, eyes still on Thal. "He used to be so quiet, when he wasn't terrifying. Always watching. Listening. Like he was memorizing every breath the world took." Her voice went lower. "I didn't think he kept anything of me."
"You meant something to him," Nyra said softly.
"I was... something," Alinda replied, her voice unsure for once. "And maybe still am but this version of him... it's harder to tell."
Nyra looked down at Thal again, the firelight reflecting in her crimson eyes. "He wouldn't have said it if it didn't matter."
Alinda didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her silence said more than words.
Then, without warning, she pushed herself up and stretched her back with a faint groan, dust falling from her cloak.
"I'm going to check the perimeter," she said, her tone returning to its usual guarded strength. "Someone should make sure we're not about to be eaten by whatever lives in this burned-out forest."
Nyra nodded, watching her go. She lingered by Thal for another moment, brushing a bit of ash from his cheek. Then she sat back, arms loosely around her knees, letting the quiet hold her.
The fire crackled low beneath the open sky, casting long shadows that danced among broken stones and bent trees. The ash had finally stopped falling, leaving a dry, brittle stillness in its wake. Further from the centre of camp, Valen and Tar worked in near silence, pitching crude shelters out of salvaged fabric and twisted stakes. Their occasional grunts and curses drifted faintly through the quiet like distant echoes.
Neo sat alone at the edge of the firelight, his cloak draped over his shoulders like shadowed wings. His posture was relaxed but his eyes were alert, their purple glow dim but watchful. He had said little since the fight, his silence stretching long enough to feel intentional.
Luken approached slowly, one hand scratching the back of his neck. His steps were cautious, not out of fear but uncertainty. He wasn't sure how to start especially given how things had gone the first time they met.
Neo didn't look up. "You can sit."
Luken blinked, then dropped into a crouch across from him, not quite comfortable enough to relax. The fire crackled between them, painting their faces in flickering gold and deepening shadows.
A long pause passed.
"I owe you an apology," Luken said eventually, voice low. "Back in Snowdrift, I treated you like an enemy."
Neo's gaze flicked to him, unreadable. "You weren't wrong to be cautious."
"Still." Luken let out a breath. "When you stood between us and that thing in the crater... when you tried to pull Thal out of the way even knowing Fall would strike you instead. I've fought alongside you now. Seen you bleed. Seen you not run. That counts for something."
Neo gave a soft hum. "You fight well. Even if your fire magic is loud."
Luken smirked. "It gets the job done."
Another silence stretched. Not awkward this time just uncertain. Like both were still deciding what shape this conversation would take.
After a moment, Neo spoke again. "You still don't trust me."
Luken hesitated. "I don't know. I trust what I saw but you're still... hard to read."
Neo tilted his head, the curve of his horns catching the firelight. "That's fair."
"I just want to know what side you're on," Luken said quietly. "That's all."
Neo's eyes narrowed slightly but his voice remained calm. "There's a difference between my side and their side."
Luken frowned. "You mean the Kruul?"
Neo finally turned his full attention on him, something in his gaze sharp not angry but tired. "I'm a Kruul, Luken. You don't need to dance around it."
The admission hung there between them, weighty and absolute.
"But I've never lived with them," Neo continued. "I was raised by Thal and someone else... someone who's gone now." He didn't elaborate, and something in his tone made it clear he wouldn't.
Luken's voice softened. "So you've never really known the Kruul way?"
"No," Neo said simply. "But I understand it. I understand the rage. The history. The weight of what was taken from them."
"And yet... you fight with us."
Neo's expression shifted a flicker of regret, or maybe something more distant. "Because I also understand how far they're willing to go to reclaim it and I can't follow that path. Not anymore."
He leaned forward, his voice lower now, more thoughtful than defensive. "They want justice but what they're doing now? This isn't justice. It's domination and that doesn't end with peace it ends in fire."
Luken stared at him across the fire, the wind whispering through the branches above. "You think we're still worth fighting for?"
Neo looked toward the flickering light where Thal lay unconscious, Nyra watching over him with Alinda by her side.
"I think some people are," he said. "That's enough for me."
Neither of them spoke after that. They didn't need to. The silence this time was settled not heavy but earned. Just two men at the edge of a war, staring into the flames, trying to understand the shape of the world they were still deciding to save.