The first blow hit me head-on. There was no time to dodge. No space to maneuver. The ogre brought its arm down like a tree ripped from its roots, and my shield took the impact with a crash that rattled me to the bone. I felt the metal dent, the leather straps strain, my body forced half a step back without permission. But I didn't fall. I wasn't going to. I twisted my hips and answered with an upward cut, aiming for the soft joint between leg and torso. The blade bit, but not the way it should have. The flesh was thick. Dense. Resistant, like cutting through wet leather and stone at once. The ogre didn't even scream. It just looked at me. And that's when I understood the problem. This wasn't going to be quick. The second came from the side. I felt it before I saw it. I turned just enough to keep the blow from splitting me in half. The impact hurled me backward, rolling across ash-covered stone. Inside my helm, the world became noise, fire, and breath. I got back up.
—Come on… —I spat blood— I'm still standing, you bastards!
The first advanced. The second closed the angle. They were learning. They weren't mindless beasts. There was something else in them, like pieces being moved by a higher hand. Above, the sisters' laughter crowned the chaos. I clenched my teeth. Blood filled my mouth. If they were playing… then this was just a distraction. The first struck downward. I blocked, but this time the force went deeper. My arm burned. Something gave in my shoulder. My bones couldn't take much more. Didn't matter. I slipped inside its guard and drove my blade into its abdomen with all my weight. This time, it roared. A deep, primitive sound that shook the ground and my chest. I twisted the blade. Black blood spilled over me. Nothing in this cursed place bleeds the way it should. The second ogre hit me before I could pull the sword free. A clean strike. Straight to the chest. The air left my lungs in an instant. The world went dark for a heartbeat. I dropped to my knees. The shield slipped. My head swayed. My vision fractured into blur. But I wasn't meant to die. Through the fire. Through the chaos. I saw a figure. Unlike the others, it didn't run. Didn't scream. It walked. Straight toward us. The first ogre raised its arm again, ready to crush my skull. I didn't move. I couldn't. But the blow never came. A metallic sound cut the air. Fast. Precise. The ogre's arm hit the ground before its body understood what had happened. It hesitated. Then it screamed. The figure stepped forward. Dark hair tangled with smoke. Skin marked by ash. Loose curls falling across her face. Her eyes… The same as before. But now… there was no doubt in them.
—You're late —I said, forcing a smile that tasted like iron.
Lyria didn't answer right away. She studied the creatures. Then me.
—You're still alive —she said— How pointlessly stubborn.
The second ogre roared and charged her. She didn't move until the last second. And when she did, it was perfect. She pivoted just enough to slip past the blow, then drove her weapon—a short, curved blade, darker than night, into the back of the ogre's knee. The creature collapsed with a heavy crack.
—Get up —she said, without looking at me.
—I'm working on it…
The first ogre, wounded, lunged again—this time at her. I forced myself to my feet.
—Don't fight alone.
—Then don't get in the way.
That sounded more familiar. I moved again, stepping between her and the ogres, without a shield. The impact came instantly. I took it. Absorbed it. She moved. Fast. Precise. Like we had fought together before.
—Lyria —I said, pushing myself up again— what the hell are you doing here?
—Surviving —she answered, carving into the second ogre's side— unlike you.
—Always charming.
—Always slow.
The first ogre hit me again. This time I couldn't hold it fully. The force broke through. I slammed into the ground. Bones grinding. She was at my side.
—Listen to me —she said low, dodging another strike— this isn't the attack.
—No?
—No —her eyes flicked upward— this is the call.
I followed her gaze. The witches were flying higher now. And the children… They weren't screaming anymore.
—They're taking them —I said.
—Yes.
—Then we finish this and go—
—No —she cut me off.
She drove her blade into the fallen ogre's throat and twisted. The creature stopped moving. One left. Big. Furious. Wounded.
—If you go to the mill now —Lyria said, eyes locked on it— you'll be too late.
Something tightened in my chest.
—Aldric and Serah...
—They'll fight —she said— and one of them won't come out the same.
The ogre charged. We moved at the same time. I slammed into it with my good shoulder, right into its stomach. It folded with a grunt of pain. Enraged, it grabbed my head with both hands and started to crush. But this time, I wasn't alone. Lyria came in from the flank, taking advantage of its grip on me. Her blade flashed once. Twice. Three times. Four clean cuts. The ogre released me and dropped to its knees. The opening.
—Now! —she snapped.
I didn't hesitate. As its body collapsed over me, I raised my sword and let its own weight do the rest. Steel drove through flesh, through bone and into its heart. Silence followed. I pushed the mass of meat aside and lay there for a few seconds, staring at the sky. Just breathing. Fire. Distance. I pushed myself up onto one knee, sheathed my sword, and grabbed my shield with my one good arm.
—They're heading to the mill —I said, watching the two witches vanish into the fog.
—Yes.
I looked at her.
—Then we go.
Lyria didn't move.
—No.
—That wasn't a suggestion.
—And this isn't a discussion —her voice hardened— You're not in any condition.
—I never am.
—This time is different.
I stepped toward her.
—I'm not leaving them.
Her eyes locked onto mine. For a second… something shifted. Something that wasn't anger. Wasn't contempt.
—Then die —she said quietly— but don't drag the rest with you.
The wind carried ash between us. Far away, the witches' laughter faded toward the mill. Above us... fire.