The day the operation began, the battlefield was quieter than Camilla expected. After the explosive first waves of insurgents had been repelled, the subsequent skirmishes were smaller—more intimate, more brutal. The soldiers had pushed the insurgents back, but the lines between victory and defeat were blurred. The war was never truly won until the enemy was completely eradicated, and that was something the Citadel's commanders understood all too well.
Camilla's hands moved with the steady rhythm of routine. She worked in the forward triage units, administering serum, patching up wounds, doing what she could to hold the line between life and death. Every soldier she stabilized was a small victory. But even as she worked, a gnawing feeling sat in her chest, something unshakable and heavy, p
