The fog descended from the mountain at dawn.
It was not ordinary fog. It was thick, heavy, smelling of ash and metal. The academy towers vanished first, swallowed by a white mist that did not move with the wind. Then the walls. Then the courtyards. Then the students themselves, calling to each other loudly so as not to get lost.
Irina was on the north wall when the first shout came.
"Director! There are people out there!"
Many people.
They emerged from the fog like shadows. First one figure. Then ten. Then a hundred. They were men and women, young and old, dressed in rags or rusty armour. Their eyes glowed in the dark – a yellow glow, like starving wolves. Trussum's corrupted.
"To the walls!" Irina shouted. "Everyone!"
The academy woke in panic.
---
I was in the courtyard when the gong sounded.
The sound was deep, long, muffled by the fog. Students ran in every direction, tripping over each other, shouting orders that no one heard. The teachers tried to organise the defence. Endomir, pale, wielded a sword he did not know how to use. Lara, her smile gone, distributed arrows and bows to those who could handle them. Gregorius, in the centre of the yard, roared like an animal.
"Form ranks! Older students to the front! Younger ones to the back!"
Zirinos appeared beside me.
"Come," he said, pulling my arm. "Don't stay here."
"Where to?"
"To the west wall. It's the weakest. That's where they'll try to enter."
"How do you know?"
"Because that's where I would enter."
We ran.
---
The west wall was almost deserted.
Only a handful of older students, armed with spears and swords, stared into the fog with wide eyes. Ana was already there. The mark of Anorys glowed on her chest, a red pulse that seemed ready to leap from her skin.
"What do you see?" asked Zirinos.
"Nothing," Ana replied. "The fog doesn't let you see anything."
"Then listen."
We fell silent.
In the silence, we heard footsteps. Many footsteps. A crowd advancing toward the wall.
"Get ready," said Zirinos.
The first wave of corrupted emerged from the fog like an army of ghosts.
---
There were more of them than us.
Many more.
They threw themselves at the walls like madmen, without weapons, without armour, only with their hands and teeth. They climbed the stone with an agility that did not seem human. The older students struck them with spears and swords. Bodies fell, but others climbed to replace them.
"This won't stop," I shouted, the heavy sword in my arms.
"It will," Zirinos replied. "When there's no one left to send."
"How many are there?"
"Many."
I fought.
The first corrupted I killed was a woman. Dark hair, yellow eyes, her mouth open in a silent scream. The sword went into her chest. She fell. I didn't scream. I didn't have time.
The second was a man. Unkempt beard, peasant clothes, bare hands. I cut off his arm. He didn't even groan. He came on with the other arm. I cut that off too. He fell to his knees. My sword – no, my sword – went into his neck.
The third, the fourth, the fifth.
I lost count.
---
Ana used her divine power.
The red and black energy lashed from her hands like a whip. The corrupted on the wall fell, burned. Those who were climbing fell, charred. Those on the ground, waiting, retreated. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
"It wasn't necessary," said Zirinos, beside her. "You were saving your strength."
"I changed my mind," Ana replied. "Strength is useless if we're dead."
The mark on her chest glowed brighter. Her face paled.
"You're exhausting yourself," I warned.
"I know."
Another blast. Another wave of corrupted charred. Ana fell to her knees.
"Enough," Zirinos ordered, pulling her back. "Now you rest. We fight."
"You're not my master."
"I'm your ally. It's different."
She did not reply. But she let herself be dragged behind the wall.
---
The fog began to dissipate at noon.
The sun appeared, pale, weak, but enough to see the battlefield. The corrupted kept coming – fewer now, but still many. The ground was covered with bodies.
"They don't stop," said Luna, beside me. Her voice trembled.
"They don't stop," Néris agreed. "What makes them do this?"
"Trussum," said Ariny, who had joined us. "He promised them power. And they believed him."
"They believed a liar."
"Liars are the most dangerous. Because you don't know they're lying."
I fought again.
---
The teachers fought too.
Endomir, the gentle, the traumatised, wielded his sword as if he had wielded it before. He killed efficiently, without hesitation, his eyes fixed on emptiness. Lara shot arrows from the wall, one after another, her face a mask of concentration. Gregorius had advanced outside the wall, fighting hand‑to‑hand, shouting obscenities no one understood. Mátir, the indifferent, stayed in the rear, healing the wounded with water and herb spells.
Alice Marévil, the kind one, was not on the wall. She was in the wing of the youngest students, protecting the children hidden there. I had never seen her so serious.
Mára Ferão did not appear.
"Where is Mára?" I asked Zirinos, between strikes.
"I don't know," he replied. "Maybe she's fighting somewhere else."
"Maybe she's dead."
"Maybe."
His eyes gleamed.
---
The battle lasted until nightfall.
The corrupted retreated when the light disappeared. Not out of fatigue, not out of fear – because Trussum called them back. The fog also retreated, curling in on itself, vanishing toward the forest.
The silence was strange. Heavy.
The students looked at the field covered with bodies, not knowing what to say. Some cried. Others vomited. Most, like me, just breathed.
Irina appeared on the wall. Her face tired, her hands stained with blood.
"Count the dead," she ordered. "And the wounded. Then bring me the numbers."
"And the corrupted?" someone asked.
"Leave them where they are. Tomorrow… tomorrow we'll deal with them."
No one said anything.
I was sitting on the ground, my back against the stone, the sword beside me. The iron was stained with dry blood. My hands trembled.
Zirinos sat beside me.
"You killed many," he said.
"You killed more."
"Perhaps." He looked at the sky. The stars were beginning to appear. "But you killed out of necessity. I killed for pleasure."
"Does that make you worse than me?"
"It makes me honest."
We fell silent.
The wind blew cold.
---
In the room, already late, the other boys slept.
I did not.
I sat on the bed, my eyes open in the dark. My hands still trembled. The blood still felt warm, even after washing.
I thought about the corrupted. About the dark‑haired woman. About the unkempt‑bearded man.
'They didn't choose', I thought. 'Trussum chose for them.'
'And we killed them anyway.'
I lay down. I closed my eyes.
Sleep did not come.
Outside, the moon shone.