After another test, Ferron stepped away from her, glancing outside one of the dirty windows. There was barely a view; the Outpost was crowded, but there was a sliver of sky visible in the direction of the islands. He stared towards it. The white, overcast sky was stained with smoke.
He looked at her. “There’s always smoke rising from your Headquarters. It’s from the crematorium, isn’t it?”
Helena said nothing, but his guess was right. They were constantly burning the dead.
“How many soldiers do you have left?”
Helena’s mouth went dry. That was one of the Eternal Flame’s greatest concerns: that the Undying would realise how exhausted the Resistance ranks were. That one brutal push might be enough to wipe them out entirely.
She said nothing.
Ferron stood silhouetted by the window’s pal
