Snowless dawn painted the shattered palace walls in ashen light as Nora Awen lay cradled in a makeshift litter. Her breath came shallow and irregular; each exhalation rattled like shards of glass. Around her, healers in stained robes jabbed needles dipped in Canglan serum, struggling to steady her pulse.
Leon Seres strode onto the ramparts, cloak swirling in the biting wind. His golden eyes, usually so fierce, softened with worry. He knelt beside Nora's litter, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead.
“How do you feel?" he whispered, voice trembling.
Nora's eyelids fluttered. Her throat was dry. “Cold…" she rasped. “And tired."
Leon clasped her hand, pressing their joined scar to his lips. “Hold on," he vowed. “There's one place left."
Below them, loyalist soldiers formed rank
