I tore off a strip of my shirt with my teeth and wrapped it tight around the bleeding, just enough to buy me time.
I had to find her.
The fight surged around me. Civilians were screaming, running, getting cut down. I saw a girl dragged by her hair. A boy trampled. A merchant struck in the back as he fled.
I couldn’t stop them all.
But I could still find her.
I pushed past two more bluecoats, slamming them aside with raw metal force, the ground warping around my boots as I drew from every scrap of iron I could feel nearby. My vision tunnelled. The scent of smoke and blood mixed in my nose.
“Elira!” I shouted again, desperate now.
There was no answer.
And then—through the haze—I saw the docks.
And I felt it. That wrongness in the air.
I took off toward it, pain screaming in my arm. But I didn’t stop.
I would not lose her.
A soldier lunged for me from the smoke, blade raised. I twisted to block, but the pain in my side flared, too sharp, too sudden. I was off balance. Too slow.
And then—
A blur.
Silver flashed past me. The soldier let out a grunt, stumbling back, blood blooming on his chest like spilled ink.
Elira.
She moved with the precision of someone who’d fought before. Every movement was sharp, calculated, as if the battle was an extension of her body, a rhythm she knew by heart. Her hair whipped behind her like a dark banner, the fiery intensity in her eyes matching the storm building in the air. She wasn’t just defending herself—she wasattacking, every strike a declaration.
For a brief moment, she paused. A flicker of something passed over her face—surprise, confusion, maybe even disbelief—as she glanced at her arm. Her hand, now gripping the blade, seemed foreign, like it didn’t quite belong to her, like the weight of the weapon was something she had forgotten. But before the moment could stretch any longer, she blinked, shaking off the hesitation as if it was never there to begin with.
In the next heartbeat, she was moving again, fast—faster than any of them could follow. She ducked low, a smooth and graceful motion that brought her under the swing of her opponent's blade. Without missing a beat, she surged upward, driving her stolen dagger into the man's thigh with brutal force. The sound of the metal cutting through flesh was sickening, but she didn’t flinch. She yanked the blade out in one swift motion, a spray of blood splattering her arm.
Her focus never wavered. The moment the man crumpled, she was already turning to face the next threat, her body fluid in the violence, every move an instinct.
“Slade!” she shouted, voice tight with effort. “Behind you!”
I turned just in time to see another soldier charging—too close, too fast.
Elira was already moving. She threw herself between us, blocking the strike with her forearm, hissing in pain as the sword skidded off the edge of her blade. With a grunt, she shoved upward, disarming him, then slammed the hilt of her dagger into his temple. He dropped.
Steel sang beside me.
Elira’s blade flashed past, catching the soldier who’d broken through my guard. He dropped with a grunt, and she didn’t pause—spinning, blocking another with her shoulder, then ramming her dagger under his ribs. We stood back-to-back, breath ragged in the smoke.
She fought like she’d done this before. Not polished, not trained—but fierce. Wild. Controlled chaos. She moved on instinct, but her instincts were good. Sharp. Protective. For a moment, I forgot the pain in my side.
Another enemy surged from the smoke—blue-cloaked, sword raised. I threw up a hand and the metal buckled from his grip,ripping free and twisting into shards that speared him backward. Elira didn’t flinch.
She used the opening to close the gap, dropping two more with precise, brutal strikes. We moved together like gears in a clock. Effortless. Natural. Her back against mine. My shield to her blade. A pair. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something like pride stir in my chest.
I stayed at her side until the smoke began to thin and the last of the soldiers lay unmoving in the dirt. We were surrounded by silence. By bodies. My boots felt heavy. The blood loss had gone from burning to cold. My vision pulsed at the edges. “Elira,” I muttered. She turned just in time to catch me as my knees buckled. “Slade!” Her hands were under my arms, her strength surprising as she hauled me upright. “No, no, no—you’re not doing this now.”
