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Red.

Farris stood aside while she threw herself into Fenrir’s arms without hesitation, and a part of Orpheus ached at how fast Fenrir returned it. “It’s a gift, what can I say?” he murmured into her hair, grin wide. “Is this when I get to say I told you so?”

“No,” Red snarled. “This is when you admit to being a piece of shit!”

“I made it in time, didn’t I?” Fenrir put a hand to Red’s cheek, fingertips brushing the edge of her bandage. “Red…”

Red knocked his hand away, grimacing. “Except you brought that thing with you!”

“Yeah, about to deal with that now, actually.” Orpheus didn’t miss how carefully Fenrir released Red, nor the way his hands hovered when she put a hand on Farris’ shoulder. The exhaustion was there, beneath their adrenaline, imprisonment leaving its mark in ways that had nothing to do with the broken cuffs hanging from their wrists.

“Are the rest...” Fenrir didn’t need to finish his question for any of them to know what he asked. The square was absent of the army Red and Farris had arrived with, nothing but mist and the bubble of cold fire between them and the far side where the cathedral half-stood.

Fenrir’s soldiers—the people he’d sent in his stead on an ill-fated rescue mission—dead because of him, the person they were meant to save. Now they were laid to rest amongst the ruins of this cursed city. A city Atticus had begged him to save. That he instead tore apart, choosing to lay waste to the one place in the world a mage like him could have truly called home.

What had he done? What had he destroyed?

“Prison’s still standing, might be some survivors.” The look Red threw his way was halfway towards withering. “Not many of us left to start with, though. That wall took out almost the entire fleet.”

Understanding rippled like an earthquake through Fenrir, and when their eyes met next whatever warmth had been rekindling between them flushed colder than the fire returned to his veins.

Orpheus’ mouth opened, then closed, words not coming. I didn’t mean to, he wanted to scream. I didn’t know!

Instead, Orpheus staggered, the smoke in his nose suddenly clogging, his breath going thin. Gwen pressed into him harder, their palms connected by a cold sweat while the world around him trembled with a force whose epicenter could only be inside him for how violently he began to shiver.

I did this, punched through him. I’m the problem. Because maybe Atticus had attacked the Empire, but only because Lore had made an enemy of them first. Maybe Sanctuary had been the reason for the Incident, but how many generations had passed since their forefathers’ sins? And how could Orpheus blame anyone for doing what they had to to survive when he’d spent his entire life doing exactly that?

I thought they killed Fenrir! Fenrir, who had cut down Atticus’ wife when she’d merely wanted peace with Lore.

They would have hurt Gwen! Except, they had spent time they didn’t have to spare to find him, instead. Avoiding the one solution they knew would work to try and save a single child’s life, a child Orpheus himself had nearly destroyed for his own gain.

They would have killed me! And maybe they would have, but only to save a starving population by restoring life to their city, a life Orpheus could have given it—had given it, for one brief beautiful moment—only to rip it all away just to make them hurt.

Hurt. Like he did. Like he had. Hurt he hadn’t even wished upon Lore, choosing instead to let her go, let her escape, and find peace in a place that would maybe finally make her happy. It was that hurt he’d deemed Sanctuary worthy of.

“Gwen,” he whispered, swaying, his whole body shaking. But it wasn’t his soul crumbling apart.

Gwen’s shoulder shoved into his ribs as a roar tore into his brain. At the eastern edge of the tenements, the Prometheus towered, eyes locked not on the fleeing bodies at its feet, but the mage at the heart of the fire it hungered so desperately for.

A second roar rose. A second tremor. It would have brought Orpheus to his knees if not for Gwen against him, face and fists buried in his robes. Beside them, Red yelped, clapping her hands over her ears a second too late to stop the pain, Farris catching her before she could hit the ground despite the way he too cowered. Even Atticus was not immune, there on his knees scrambling across the stone, searching for something to fight the Prometheus off with.

And amongst it all stood Fenrir. He held his ground, face schooled tight with a determination Orpheus knew better than to ever underestimate again.

“Everyone, listen to me,” Fenrir said, spinning to face them. “You two get to the prison and break out whoever’s left. Orpheus and I will take care of the Prometheus. We’ll rendezvous outside the gates, alright? The city’s not safe, not while the chasm’s still open.” Fenrir turned around to look not at the Prometheus, but the man kneeling alone before it’s hulking shadow. “You hear me, Atticus? We’re getting everyone out!”

Under the shadow of the Prometheus, Atticus retook his feet, hands fisted at his sides, white cloak snapping violently in unwilling surrender.

“I hear you, Rawkner.”

Orpheus ignored the taste of sickness creeping up the back of his throat.

“Alright,” Fenrir said, voice rising in command. “Let’s go!”

Red and Farris took off towards the prison, Gwen clinging to his hand with a fierceness that only broke when she pushed out a breath and pulled away. Orpheus dropped to his knees before she could get far. “Gwen, wait.” She staggered, looking back at him. “If—if Atticus tries anything—”

“He won’t,” Gwen breathed, taking his hand again and squeezing it. “Not to me.” Her eyes held his, icy with a strength that hadn’t been there before, violet flame sparking between the palms of their clasped hands to chase the clamminess away. Atop her shoulder, Soot hissed, and Gwen lifted her chin. “I won’t let him.”

“Good,” broke with his exhale, time skipping between the moment they crouched together and the instant Orpheus dragged her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, just in case he didn’t get another chance to tell her. Just to make sure she knew. “I’m sorry for everything.”