The heavy hum of the engines faded into a metallic sigh as the Dreads Corps' ship slowly opened. A dense crowd awaited them, swaying between hope and dread. But what they saw gave way to silence: exhausted soldiers, dazed, wounded, some carried on stretchers… and not a single glance carried the pride of a victorious return.
For a moment, everything stopped. Mothers rushed to the first soldiers, eyes brimming with hope, calling out names, scanning every face. Some were reunited with a loved one—a brother, a son, a wife. But most saw only a void where a smile should've been.
— "My son… did you see him? He was with the 9th Division!"
— "Mila… where's my wife? She boarded the ship with you!"
— "My father… he was a field medic… he's alive, right?"
These cries, heavy with grief, echoed through the arrival hall. Others, too shocked or already aware, stood still, waiting for a sign… a coffin, a word, a nod. Some dropped to their knees when reality settled in.
Kael was among the last to disembark. His gaze was vacant, but inside, his heart was a storm. His hands still trembled with the heat of the explosion, the memory of the Vorm's roar, the lifeless body of Sareth—disfigured, yet standing tall until the end.
A lieutenant approached, his gray coat dusty and dull. He scanned the returning soldiers, his brows tightening.
— "Where is the captain? Where's Sareth?"
Kael stopped. He took a long breath. Then, with a steady but broken voice:
— "Sareth is dead. He faced an abnormal Vorm. A massive lizard-like creature, its skin tougher than steel. He took an overdrive pill to save us. He gave everything… even his humanity."
A murmur of shock rippled through the soldiers. The lieutenant remained still for several seconds before speaking in a grave tone:
— "Tomorrow… we'll honor the fallen. Be ready."
The night was short. Sleep, absent. Kael rose before dawn. The dorm was silent, disturbed only by the heavy breathing of exhausted comrades. He sat on his bed, head in his hands, before rising without a word.
He prepared a modest breakfast in the common room: stale bread, an overcooked egg, filtered water. He chewed without appetite, eyes blank, thinking of those who would never sit at a table again. He left the plate half-eaten.
Outside, a reinforced car waited. The driver, a silent man with dark eyes, opened the door without a word. During the ride, not a single word was exchanged. Kael watched the city roll by through the window, noting the lowered flags, the families already gathering in the streets.
As they approached the ceremony grounds, tension grew. The air was thick with incense, metal, and smoke. Rows of coffins draped in the Dreads Corps banner stretched endlessly. And yet, some remained empty—those of the missing. The unreturned.
Naelys waited under a white canopy, dressed in black. When she saw him, she stepped forward and embraced him. It was brief, but enough to crack the dam Kael had built around his sorrow.
— "I thought you wouldn't come," she whispered.
— "I almost didn't… But Sareth deserves for me to be here."
Declan approached, his uniform flawless despite his exhaustion. He shook Kael's hand, then placed it on his shoulder.
— "What he did… was more than anyone could've asked for."
— "He saved all four of us. He held on until the very end," Syla added as she arrived with her twin, Nyra. Their faces were hardened, but their reddened eyes betrayed their pain.
— "And no one will speak enough of it," Nyra finished.
The five young soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder as the ceremony began. A sacred silence fell over the crowd as the names of the dead were read aloud. Some were met with sobs of anguish, others with quiet gasps.
Kael stepped forward when Sareth's name was called. He placed a black flower on his empty coffin. He whispered, only for himself:
— "I'll never forget."
Naelys, at his side, added a white rose. Then Declan placed a black-stitched piece of cloth—an old insignia from their unit.
— "It may not have been a victory… but it was humanity," he said softly.
As the funeral drums began to echo, their eyes met. All of them knew the war had only just begun. But in that shared grief, an invisible bond was forged between them. A silent vow, born of blood, fire… and the silence after.