The smell hit him first.
Smoke—thick and choking, mixed with something acrid. Burning fabric, burning wood. Something worse he didn't want to name. Kirato ran through the fog, his lungs burning with every breath, eyes watering so badly he could barely see. The orange glow ahead pulsed through the mist.
Then the sound. Screaming. High-pitched, terrified. Women's voices overlapping, crying for help, crying names he couldn't make out through Hector's storm and the sharper cracks of explosions and collapsing wood.
His boots pounded against cobblestones. The fog parted.
What was left of the Lotus Garden stood before him.
The front wall had been torn inward. Flames licked up from the ground floor windows, spreading fast. The second floor sagged at an angle that made his stomach drop. And everywhere—everywhere—people were running.
Women in nightclothes, barefoot, some clutching small bags, others with nothing at all. Some followed the white chalk marks Hector had drawn—escape routes to the main street. Others just ran blindly into the fog.
Kirato saw Lila stumble out of a side door, coughing so hard she could barely stand. Another woman he didn't know was being helped along by one of Hector's soldiers, blood streaming from a gash on her forehead.
And in the center of it all, where the common room used to be—lightning.
Hector's fist collided with a raider's jaw. The man spun through the air like a rag doll and crashed through what remained of the bar. Wood splintered. He didn't get back up.
"NEXT!" Hector roared.
Four more rushed him. Guild members, armed with steel and powers that crackled in the air around them.
One threw fire—wild and uncontrolled, a blast that would've killed anyone nearby. Hector didn't dodge. His hand moved in a sharp gesture and wind swept up from nowhere, catching the flames and redirecting them straight back.
The man screamed and dove aside, his own fire scorching his arm.
Two others closed in—one with stone constructs forming around his fists, another moving with enhanced speed. Fast, but Hector's eyes tracked both.
Lightning crackled overhead. Two strikes. Precise enough to avoid the women still fleeing upstairs.
CRACK. CRACK.
Both raiders dropped, convulsing.
The last one—the speedster—was already turning to run.
"Bad choice," Hector muttered.
Wind caught the man mid-stride and slammed him into the floor. Stone cracked. The man wheezed once and went still.
Hector took a breath, tasting ash and blood. His cigar had fallen somewhere. Didn't matter. He could hear his soldiers outside coordinating the evacuation. Could feel through his weather sense that most of the women had made it to the marked paths.
This was manageable. Ugly, messy, but manageable.
Maya was barricaded upstairs with Rose, Amber, and a few others who'd refused to leave. They'd be fine. He just needed to—
The earth moved.
Not from his power. From something else.
The cobblestones beneath his feet rippled. Cracks spread in geometric patterns. And then—erupting from the ground with terrifying speed—a wall of stone. Ten feet high. Twenty. Thirty.
It surrounded him on three sides.
Hector's eyes narrowed.
Standing atop the wall, silhouetted against the firelight and smoke, was a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, arms crossed. Completely relaxed.
"Commander Hector Ashfield," the man said, his voice smooth. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Hector's jaw tightened. The way this man stood—perfectly balanced, utterly confident—wasn't the stance of a common thug.
"And you are?"
"Captain Faz of the Nuro guild." The man smiled without warmth. "I'll be your dance partner tonight."
Hector cracked his knuckles. Lightning flickered overhead. "Just you? Kid, you're going to need—"
He moved.
Speed enhancement flipped on like a switch. One moment Hector was standing twenty feet away. The next he was in Faz's face, fist already swinging with enough force to shatter stone—
Faz stepped aside.
Just stepped. Casually, like he'd known exactly where the punch would land.
Hector's fist hit empty air.
He spun, threw a backhand—Faz was already ducking, fluid and effortless.
Lightning overhead. Hector called it down—three simultaneous strikes, angles calculated to give no escape—
Faz moved before the lightning fell.
Rolled left. Came up behind a broken pillar. The lightning struck where he'd been standing a heartbeat ago, leaving smoking craters.
"You're fast," Faz said, brushing dust from his shoulder. "Impressive. But I've already seen where you'll strike."
Hector's grin faded. "Precognition."
"Five seconds ahead." Faz's smile widened. "More than enough."
He slammed his foot down.
Stone spikes erupted from the ground around Hector—dozens of them, from every angle, too fast, too many—
Wind roared up in a spiral around Hector's body. The stone spikes shattered against the barrier, fragments spinning away.
Hector launched forward again, faster this time, varying his approach—straight, then left, then a feint right—
Faz blocked every strike.
It was like fighting a ghost. Every punch telegraphed. Every kick anticipated. Every lightning bolt dodged before it could land.
And slowly, Hector began to understand.
He's not trying to beat me. He's stalling.
The realization hit like ice water.
This whole fight—Faz wasn't trying to win. Just delay. Keep Hector pinned here, away from the real operation.
"Frustrated?" Faz asked from atop a fresh stone pillar. Not even breathing hard. "I understand. Precognition feels unfair, doesn't it? But that's war, Commander. We use the tools we're given."
"Shut up." Hector called down lightning—not controlled this time. A full bolt, the kind that would turn a man to ash.
Faz dropped through a hole in his pillar that he'd already prepared.
The lightning hit empty rock.
"You're getting sloppy," Faz called from below. "Losing your composure."
Hector's hands clenched. The bastard was right.
He forced himself to breathe. To think—
The air shifted.
Another presence in his weather. Moving fast. Coming from behind.
He turned just as she appeared.
A woman. Young, mid-twenties, with a wide grin that didn't belong on a battlefield. Nuro colors. Moving with casual confidence.
"Hey, Commander!" She waved like greeting an old friend. "Having fun?"
Hector's eyes narrowed. Something about her felt wrong. The way she'd appeared—not walked, not run. Just... appeared.
"Who—"
She touched his shoulder.
The world lurched.
Everything twisted. Colors streaked. His stomach dropped.
And then—
Thud.
Hector's boots hit solid ground.
But it wasn't the same ground.
Salt spray hit his face. The smell of seaweed. The creak of ships. Gulls crying.
The bay.
He was at the bay.
Half a mile from the brothel. Maybe more.
And standing in front of him—Faz and the grinning woman.
"Teleportation," Hector said flatly.
"Captain Zad!" The woman gave an exaggerated bow. "Sorry about the surprise relocation, but we really couldn't have you protecting the merchandise all night."
"Merchandise." Hector's voice dropped. "You mean Maya."
"We mean whoever we're paid to grab." Zad's grin widened. "And you, Commander? You were in the way. So we moved you."
Hector looked past them. The bay stretched out behind them. Ships. Water. Docks extending into darkness.
No civilians.
No buildings to collapse.
No innocents to shield.
His restraint—the thing that had been holding him back all night—
Gone.
"You made a mistake," Hector said quietly.
Zad's grin faltered. "What?"
"Taking me somewhere with no witnesses." Hector pulled off his white coat and let it drop. "Now I don't have to hold back."
The sky above them screamed.
Kirato burst through the doorway and immediately threw himself left.
A blast of ice shot past his head, so cold it burned. He felt his hair crackle, frost forming instantly. He hit the ground rolling, came up in a crouch, and got his first clear look at the nightmare that used to be the common room.
Destroyed.
Furniture shattered. Walls cracked and bleeding smoke. Bodies—guild raiders he didn't recognize—scattered across the floor. Some unconscious. Some not moving at all.
Fire spreading up one wall.
And standing in the center, calm as death itself, was a man covered in metal.
Not armor. His skin. Silver metal had grown over his arms, his chest, his face—smooth and gleaming in the firelight. Ice crystallized along his shoulders, spreading down his forearms.
When he turned to look at Kirato, his eyes were half-metal, half-human. Wrong.
"You must be the security." The man's voice echoed strangely. "The one with the Tremor power."
Kirato stood slowly. His power was already building in his chest—that familiar vibration. "Get out. Last warning."
The man—he'd learn later the name was Farab—laughed. "Brave. I respect that. But stupid."
He raised his metal hand.
Spikes grew from his palm. Not thrown—just extending, metal flowing like water, forming jagged points aimed at Kirato's throat.
Kirato released his Tremor.
The shockwave rippled outward, hitting the metal spikes mid-formation.
They shuddered. Cracked slightly—
And kept coming.
Kirato dove right. The spikes missed his throat by inches and embedded themselves in the wall with enough force to splinter wood.
"Nice try," Farab said, walking forward. "But you're what—Dormant stage? Your power can't even scratch real metal, kid."
Kirato attacked again. Tremor after Tremor, shockwaves rippling through the room, shaking the already-damaged foundations. He poured everything into each strike, trying to find a weak point—
Nothing.
The metal absorbed it. The ice around Farab's shoulders barely cracked.
Then Farab moved.
He was fast—faster than someone covered in metal should be. His fist caught Kirato in the ribs.
The impact felt like being hit by a sledgehammer wrapped in ice. Kirato's vision went white. His feet left the ground. He flew backward, crashed through a table, and slammed into the far wall hard enough to crack plaster.
He tasted copper. Blood.
"Stay down," Farab said, already turning away. "This isn't your fight."
Kirato coughed, spat red onto the floor, and pushed himself up.
"Where..." His voice came out ragged. "Where do you think you're going?"
Farab paused, looking back. "To get what we came for. The woman. Maya." Metal creased as he smiled. "Orders are orders, kid."
"You're not..." Kirato got one foot under him. Then the other. Stood, swaying. "Not touching her."
"Look at yourself. You can barely stand."
"Then..." Kirato's power vibrated in his chest, weak but still there. "Make me stop."
Farab studied him for a long moment. Something flickered in those half-metal eyes.
Then he sighed. "You've got heart. But heart doesn't win fights."
He came at Kirato again.
What followed wasn't a fight.
Farab's metal fists connected with Kirato's jaw. His ribs. His stomach. Each hit precise, designed to hurt without killing.
Kirato went down. Got up. Went down again.
His Tremor was useless. Every shockwave bounced off like throwing pebbles at a wall.
Get up, something screamed in his head. GET UP.
He did.
Farab kicked him in the chest. Sent him sprawling.
GET UP.
He did.
Ice formed around Farab's fist and he drove it into Kirato's shoulder. Frost spread across skin, burning cold.
GET UP.
He did.
Again.
And again.
Blood ran from his split lip. From the gash above his eye. From his nose. The world swam at the edges.
"Why won't you stay down?!" Farab's voice had lost its bored quality. Now it was frustrated. Almost angry. "You're nothing! Dormant stage against Awakened! You can't win!"
Kirato didn't answer. Couldn't. His lungs were fire.
But he got up.
Farab hit him again.
Kirato hit the floor.
And this time, when he tried to rise, his body wouldn't listen.
His arms shook. Gave out. He collapsed face-first onto blood-slicked stone.
"Finally," Farab muttered. He stepped over Kirato. "Should've stayed down the first time."
He headed for the stairs. Toward the second floor. Toward Maya's room.
Kirato lay there, staring at the ceiling. Smoke curled overhead. He could hear screaming from above. Women's voices.
One of them was Rose.
He recognized her voice anywhere.
GET UP, his mind screamed. ROSE IS UP THERE. MAYA IS UP THERE. GET UP GET UP GET UP—
His body wouldn't move.
Ma died. You couldn't save her.
The thought was ice in his veins.
Now Rose. Now Maya. Everyone you've ever cared about.
YOU CAN'T SAVE ANYONE.
The vibration in his chest—his Tremor—pulsed. Weak. Dying.
You're useless. Worthless.
Something inside him cracked.
Not bone. Not the building.
Something deeper. Something that had been locked away, held back by fear and doubt and the certainty that he wasn't good enough.
Heat flooded his veins.
It started in his heart. Not metaphorical. Actual heat, like his blood had caught fire. It spread outward—through arteries, through veins—racing through his entire body in seconds.
Kirato's eyes snapped open.
His veins lit up.
Not glowing like in stories. Actually lit up, like magma ran through them instead of blood. Fire-light traced every vessel, spreading from his heart outward in branching patterns.
His skin burned.
Not from the fire in the building. From inside. From the power forcing its way through channels that weren't ready, tearing and rebuilding everything in its path.
It hurt.
God, it hurt.
Like every cell in his body was being ripped apart and put back together wrong. Like his bones were melting.
Kirato wanted to scream but he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except feel the transformation—
And then—
Understanding.
The Tremor.
He'd always felt it as a vibration in his chest. A power he could release outward. Push. Shake.
But now he understood.
Not just a push. Not just force.
Frequency.
Everything had a frequency. Stone, metal, flesh—everything vibrated at its own natural rate. And his power was about finding that frequency. Matching it. Amplifying it until things broke from within.
He'd been using it wrong.
Pushing when he should've been resonating.
Kirato stood.
The floor beneath him didn't crack. It shattered. Spiderweb fractures spreading outward, stones splitting along natural fault lines.
Not from force.
From resonance.
The building groaned. Dust rained from the ceiling.
And Kirato looked up the stairwell where Farab had gone.
His veins still glowed. His skin still burned.
But now he had power.
Real power.
The bay had become hell.
Lightning didn't just strike—it fell in sheets. Continuous. Overlapping. Turning night into flickering daylight that hurt to look at.
Rain came down in walls. Not drops. Walls of water, driven by wind that howled at hurricane force, shredding sails, snapping masts like twigs.
The water itself had been whipped into twenty-foot swells that crashed against the docks, pulling boats free, smashing them together.
And in the center, Hector fought.
No restraint. No precision.
Just raw power.
Zad tried to teleport—Hector hit her with wind before she could vanish. The blast caught her mid-disappearance. She appeared thirty feet away, stumbling—
Hector was already there.
His fist connected with her ribs and he felt them crack. Felt the give of bone.
Zad screamed and teleported again.
This time Hector tracked her through his weather, feeling the disturbance, and he called down lightning exactly where she'd appear—
CRACK.
The bolt caught her mid-materialization. She collapsed, smoking, twitching—
Hector's boot came down on her chest.
"Stay down," he said.
Faz roared and charged, earth erupting around him in layered shells. His precognition was useless now. Hector wasn't being tactical anymore. Just throwing everything, too much, too fast.
Lightning from above.
Wind from all sides.
Rain freezing into ice spears mid-fall, each one moving at terminal velocity.
Faz's earth armor shattered. He tried to rebuild—Hector was faster. A punch to the jaw. A knee to the gut.
Faz went down hard, blood pouring from his mouth.
"You—" He coughed. "You can't—"
"I can." Hector's voice was empty. "And I am."
Lightning struck Faz directly.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The man convulsed. Screamed.
And stopped moving.
Hector stood over both of them, breathing hard, soaked from rain, blood running down his leg where something had hit him. His leg bone was cracked—he could feel it grinding wrong.
But he'd won.
Both captains down.
The bay around him was chaos—wrecked ships, broken docks.
But it was over.
Hector turned back toward Thorncoast, toward the smoke still rising in the distance—
Maya.
He ran.
Speed enhancement kicked in despite the broken leg. Every step was agony but he ignored it. The docks blurred past. The streets. The fog slowly dissipating.
Hold on, Maya. I'm coming.
The brothel came into view.
Still burning. Still ruined.
But quieter now.
Too quiet.
Hector's sprint slowed. Dread settled in his gut.
No.
He forced himself to move faster—
And he saw it.
The women. The survivors. Standing in the street, huddled together, wrapped in blankets. Maybe a dozen of them.
Lila was there, sobbing. Another woman staring at nothing with blank eyes.
His soldiers looked up as he approached. One of them—young, couldn't be more than twenty—opened his mouth to speak.
Hector didn't let him.
"Maya?"
The soldier's face fell. "Commander, we—"
"WHERE IS MAYA?"
"Gone, sir. We searched the building. She's... we think they took her."
"And those kids with her?"
The soldier's silence was answer enough.
Hector felt something cold settle in his chest. "Show me."
Kirato moved through the building like he was dreaming.
His footsteps barely made sound. The pain—his ribs, his face, everything Farab had broken—faded into background noise.
All that mattered was forward.
Up the stairs. Through the smoke.
He found Farab on the second-floor landing.
The metal-skinned man turned, saw him, and his eyes widened.
"What the—you should be—"
Kirato didn't speak.
His hand shot out and his Awakened Tremor erupted from his palm.
But it was different now.
Not a shockwave. Resonance.
The power hit Farab's metal skin and instead of bouncing off, it matched the metal's natural frequency. Amplified it. Vibrated it until molecular bonds started breaking.
The metal cracked.
Farab stumbled backward, shock written across his face. "That's impossible—you were Dormant—you can't just—"
Kirato hit him again.
This time the metal shattered. Pieces flying off Farab's chest, his arms, his face—exposing flesh beneath. The ice exploded into vapor.
"How?!" Farab's voice was panic now. "How are you—"
Kirato stepped forward. His veins still glowed.
He grabbed Farab by the throat with his right hand and released everything.
Point-blank.
Full power.
The Tremor tore through Farab's body. Metal and ice shattered. Bones broke. The man didn't even have time to scream—just a choked gasp as everything in his body failed at once.
Farab collapsed. Unconscious. Broken. But alive.
And then—
CRACK.
Pain unlike anything Kirato had ever felt exploded up his right arm.
His hand—the bones—shattered.
The recoil. Releasing that much power at once, without the physical foundation to support it. His Awakening had given him access to the power but his body couldn't handle it.
Kirato screamed and cradled his ruined hand against his chest. The bones were fragments now, grinding against each other.
But he couldn't stop.
Not yet.
He stumbled down the hallway, vision swimming, using his left hand against the wall to stay upright. Maya's room. He had to reach—
The door was blown open. Hanging off its hinges. Smoke pouring out.
Inside—
Rubble.
Collapsed ceiling. Broken beams. Fire spreading along one wall.
And there—
There, half-buried beneath fallen stone—
Rose.
Kirato's world stopped.
He stumbled forward, his broken hand forgotten, and dropped to his knees beside her.
"Rose?"
No answer.
He reached out with his left hand and touched her shoulder. Still warm. But she wasn't moving. Wasn't breathing.
Blood matted her hair. Her head had struck something when the ceiling came down. And through her chest—a jagged piece of stone.
Dead vines wrapped around her body. Brown. Withered. The remains of someone's plant attack.
She'd been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Just—
Gone.
"Rose, no..." Kirato's voice cracked. He took her hand—still warm, still soft—and squeezed. "Wake up. Come on. You have to wake up."
Nothing.
"Rose!" His vision blurred. "You can't—you have to—we have to get you out—"
The building groaned. More ceiling threatening to collapse.
But Kirato didn't move.
He just knelt there, holding her hand, staring at her face.
She looked peaceful. Almost like she was sleeping. Except for the blood. And the stone. And the fact that her chest wasn't rising.
His eyes swept the room, desperate—
Maya.
Gone.
Amber.
Also gone.
Just Rose. Just her body.
"I'm sorry," Kirato whispered. His throat was raw. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry—"
His voice broke.
The tears came then, hot and burning, cutting tracks through the ash on his face. He pulled Rose's hand against his forehead and he sobbed—ugly, broken sounds that had no words, just grief raw and absolute.
Hector limped through the destroyed brothel, his soldiers flanking him, checking rooms, clearing debris.
Every step sent agony up his leg but he ignored it.
"Commander." One of his soldiers called from ahead. "Second floor. You need to see this."
Hector climbed the stairs, using the railing for support. The second floor was worse. Fire damage. Structural collapse. Bodies—
He found Maya's room.
The door hung open, destroyed. Inside, smoke and rubble and—
Kirato.
The kid was there. Kneeling. Holding someone's hand.
Rose.
Hector stopped in the doorway, his breath catching.
He'd seen death before. Battlefields. Massacres.
But this—
Rose looked so young. Peaceful, almost, except for the blood and the stone through her chest and the vines wrapped around her body.
And Kirato—
The kid was broken. His right hand was a ruin, bones clearly shattered. Blood covered his face.
But worse than that—his face.
Empty. Hollow. Staring at Rose with eyes that had seen too much, lost too much.
Hector took a step forward—
Kirato's head snapped up.
Their eyes met.
And Hector saw grief twist into something sharper.
Rage.
"I'm sorry, Kirato—" Hector started, raising his hands. "I tried to—"
Kirato moved.
Fast.
His power—awakened now—exploded outward.
The Tremor hit Hector like a physical blow.
Not just force. Resonance. The shockwave found the frequency of his bones, tried to match it, tried to tear him apart from within.
Hector staggered, his broken leg nearly giving out.
"Kirato, stop—"
Another Tremor. Stronger.
This one hurt. Hector felt something crack in his chest and he coughed, tasted copper.
"STOP!" Hector raised his arms but didn't attack back. "Listen to me—"
Kirato charged.
His left fist swung for Hector's face, wild, grief-blind.
Hector caught his wrist. "Kirato, I know—"
The kid headbutted him.
Pain exploded across Hector's nose. Blood spurted. His grip loosened and Kirato tore free—Tremor, punch, kick, anything, everything, just raw violence.
Because Hector was there. Because he'd failed. Because someone needed to pay and Hector was the only target left.
Hector took the hits. Let himself get pushed back. Let Kirato exhaust himself because there was nothing else to do.
A Tremor caught him in the ribs. Something definitely broke.
A punch to the jaw. His head snapped back.
Another Tremor. His leg gave out and he dropped to one knee.
"Kirato—" Blood ran from Hector's nose, his split lip. "Please—"
"YOU SAID YOU'D PROTECT HER!" Kirato's voice was raw, shredded. "YOU SAID—"
He swung again. Hector didn't dodge. The punch connected with his temple and stars burst across his vision.
"I TRUSTED YOU!" Another hit. "ROSE TRUSTED YOU!"
Hector took it. All of it. Every hit, every accusation, every ounce of grief-turned-rage.
Because Kirato was right.
He had failed.
Rose was dead. Maya was gone. Amber was gone.
He'd failed them all.
Finally—finally—Kirato's attacks slowed. His movements became sluggish. His power flickering, weakening.
One more punch. Weak. Barely more than a push.
Then Kirato collapsed.
He fell to his knees in front of Hector, gasping, sobbing, his left hand clutching at Hector's coat.
"Why..." His voice was barely a whisper now. "Why wasn't I strong enough..."
Hector grabbed him by the shoulders. Firm.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice rough but steady. "I know what you're feeling. I know the grief, the guilt, the rage. I know it all." He shook Kirato slightly. "But right now—right now—I need you to focus."
"She's dead—"
"I know." Hector's voice cracked. "I know. And that's on me. I should've been faster, stronger, better." He stopped himself. Breathed. "But Maya is still alive. Amber is still alive. And they're not far."
Kirato looked up, his eyes red and swollen. "What?"
"That Tether signature I detected this morning—the one with the strange frequency—I just felt it again. Same signature. Same person." Hector's jaw tightened. "I marked it when I first sensed it. I can still track it through my weather. Maybe a few miles. Maybe less."
"Then why are we—"
"Because I needed you conscious." Hector shook him again. "I can track them, but I can't do this alone. Not injured like this. Not with my leg broken and my ribs cracked." He cut himself off. "I need you with me. Understand?"
Kirato stared at him. Processing. Grief warring with hope.
"We can find her?" His voice was small. Broken.
"Yes."
"Then why are we still here?"
"Because I'm making sure you understand." Hector's eyes bored into Kirato's. "Rose is gone. We can't bring her back. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much you want to, she's gone." His voice softened. "But Maya isn't. Not yet. And if we move now—if we move fast—we might be able to save her."
He paused.
Then added, quietly: "After that? If you still want to kill me? Fine. I'll stand there and let you. But right now, I need you to buckle up and focus."
Kirato's breathing steadied. Slowly. His expression shifted—from broken to determined.
"How far?" he asked.
"Not far. But—"
Kirato stood. Swayed. Caught himself against the wall with his good hand.
"Then let's go."
Hector stood too, his broken leg protesting.
He took a step toward the door.
His leg gave out.
"Shit—"
He collapsed, barely catching himself on a broken beam. His vision swam. Blood loss, exhaustion, the broken bones finally too much.
"Not now," he gasped. "Not—"
Kirato took a step too.
And fell.
His Awakening, the broken hand, the beating, the grief—all of it crashing down at once. His eyes rolled back and he hit the floor hard.
Hector reached for him, tried to move—
Darkness took him too.
They found them ten minutes later.
Hector's soldiers, along with the surviving women, carefully picking through the rubble.
Two men. Both unconscious. Both broken.
Lying in Maya's destroyed room, smoke still curling overhead, Rose's body nearby.
One of the soldiers knelt beside the Commander, checking for a pulse.
"He's alive," he said, relief evident. "Barely. But alive."
Another soldier checked Kirato. "This one too. But he's in bad shape. We need a healer. Now."
Lila pushed forward, her eyes red from crying. She looked at Kirato, at Hector, at Rose's body still partially buried in rubble.
"Get them out," she said, her voice hoarse. "Both of them. And—" Her voice broke. "And get Rose too. She deserves better than this."
They worked quickly. Carefully extracting both men from the wreckage, carrying them outside where makeshift medical stations had been set up.
The sun was starting to rise. Pale gray light filtering through the smoke, turning Thorncoast into something ghostly.
The Lotus Garden still burned behind them.
Rose's body was carried out wrapped in cloth, handled with reverence by women who'd known her, loved her, lost her.
Kirato and Hector were laid side by side on stretchers, both unconscious, both breathing but barely.
"Will they live?" Lila asked the soldier treating them.
He looked at Hector—broken leg, cracked ribs, blood loss. Then at Kirato—shattered hand, awakening backlash, trauma beyond measure.
"The Commander will wake by morning," he said carefully. "He's tough."
"And the kid?"
The soldier was quiet for a long moment.
"Three days. Maybe longer. His body went through something it wasn't ready for. The awakening, the injuries... he needs time."
Lila nodded, numb.
Three days.
Three days before Kirato would wake up to a world where Rose was gone, Maya was missing, and everything he'd tried to protect had been ripped away.
The sun continued to rise.
The fires slowly died.
And in the ruins of The Lotus Garden, wrapped in smoke and grief, two broken men slept.
Waiting for whatever came next.