The command center was silent.
Reyes stood at the table, her armor still dented, her cloak torn, her sword resting across the surface. The map in front of her was marked with fresh annotations—new troop positions, updated supply lines, revised defensive perimeters. Her hands were trembling.
She had been standing there for hours.
The reports had been coming in all morning. The wounded were being treated, but there were too many. The breaches were being sealed, but there were too few soldiers left to man the walls. The Apaches had been grounded—half of them destroyed, the rest in need of repairs that would take days.
The city was still standing. But barely.
She touched her chest, feeling the cold metal of her armor.
Kade, she thought. Where are you?
No answer.
The door opened. A lieutenant entered, his face pale, his uniform stained with ash.
"Commander, we've finished counting the dead."
She looked up. "How many?"
"Three hundred and forty-seven soldiers confirmed dead. Another two hundred wounded. The civilian shelters held, but we lost contact with the eastern sector for two hours. The survivors are... shaken."
Reyes closed her eyes. Three hundred and forty-seven. More than she had lost in the last three battles combined. She had known them. Not all of them, not personally, but she had seen their faces in the mess hall, on the walls, in the briefings. She had given orders that sent them to their deaths.
"And the Apaches?"
"Twelve destroyed. Eight more heavily damaged. The rest are grounded for repairs."
She nodded slowly. "What about ammunition?"
"We're running low. The supply lines are still cut. We have maybe two days of sustained fire left."
Two days.
She opened her eyes. "Get the engineers working on the Apaches. I want them ready to fly by tomorrow morning."
"Commander, that's impossible—"
"Find a way."
The lieutenant nodded and left.
Reyes walked through the city.
The streets were empty, the civilians still hidden in the shelters. Soldiers moved past her, their faces hollow, their eyes empty. They had fought through the night. They had seen their friends fall. They had survived.
But they didn't look like survivors.
She passed a group of soldiers hauling bodies to a makeshift morgue. Their faces were blank, their movements mechanical. They had been doing this for hours. They would be doing it for hours more.
She passed a medic tending to a wounded soldier, her hands covered in blood, her face pale. The soldier's leg was gone below the knee. He was conscious, his teeth gritted against the pain.
"Commander," the medic said, noticing her.
She knelt beside them. "How is he?"
"Alive. Barely." The medic gestured at the leg. "We've stopped the bleeding, but he needs surgery. We don't have the supplies."
Reyes looked at the soldier. His face was young—too young. He couldn't have been more than twenty.
"Hold on," she said. "We're going to get you through this."
He nodded weakly.
She stood and moved on.
She found a group of soldiers huddled around a small fire, their weapons resting beside them. They looked up as she approached, their eyes widening.
"Commander."
She sat down beside them. "How are you holding up?"
They exchanged glances.
"We're alive," one said. "That's something."
She nodded slowly. "It is."
Another soldier spoke. "Commander, what are we going to do? The demons aren't stopping. They're just going to keep coming."
She looked at him. His face was young—too young. He couldn't have been more than twenty.
"We fight," she said. "We survive. We find a way to win."
"And if we can't?"
She met his eyes. "Then we make sure they remember us."
A third soldier spoke, his voice low. "What about the strike force? Kade and the others. Have we heard anything?"
She was silent for a moment. "Not yet."
"They should have been back by now."
"I know."
"Do you think they're...?"
She didn't let him finish. "They're not dead. They're just delayed."
She said it with more certainty than she felt.
The afternoon passed in a blur of activity.
Reyes moved through the city, checking the defenses, talking to the soldiers, making sure the wounded were being treated. She found a quiet corner and sat down, her body aching, her mind racing.
She thought about the strike force. About Aurelion. About the six soldiers who had followed him into the darkness.
Where are you? she thought. What happened out there?
She didn't have answers.
She thought about the siege. About the demons. About the endless wave of death that seemed to have no end. She thought about the soldiers who had fallen, the ones who were still fighting, the ones who would fall tomorrow.
She thought about Vorthar. About his voice on the radio. About the cold certainty in his words.
This is the end, Commander. The end of your stronghold. The end of your resistance. The end of everything you've built.
She pushed the thought away.
A lieutenant approached her.
"Commander, we've received a transmission from the northern sector. They're reporting movement. Demons, heading south."
She turned to him. "How many?"
"Hundreds. Maybe thousands. They're moving fast."
She was silent for a moment. "They're not attacking. They're regrouping."
"Regrouping for what?"
She looked out at the darkness beyond the walls.
"The next wave."
The evening came.
Reyes stood on the eastern wall, looking out at the plain. The demon army had withdrawn, but she knew they would return. They always returned.
She thought about the strike force again. Six soldiers, following Aurelion into the heart of enemy territory. They should have returned by now. They should have reported back.
Unless they couldn't.
She pushed the thought away.
A sergeant approached her. "Commander, the engineers have made progress on the Apaches. They think they can have three of them ready by morning."
"Three?"
"Three. The rest will take longer."
She nodded slowly. "Three is better than none."
The night was quiet.
Reyes sat in her office, the reports spread across her desk, her sword resting beside her. She had not slept. She could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of the soldiers who had fallen.
She thought about Aurelion. About the strike force. About the six soldiers who had followed him into the darkness.
Where are you? she thought. What happened out there?
She didn't have answers.
A knock at the door.
She looked up. "Enter."
A lieutenant entered, his face pale, his uniform stained.
"Commander, there's something you need to see."
She stood. "What is it?"
He led her to the eastern wall.
Below, in the darkness, the demon army was assembling. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Their eyes burned in the darkness like a sea of stars.
Reyes stared at them.
"They're coming back," the lieutenant said.
She nodded slowly.
"Yes. They are."