Beneath the Crimson Sky

Chapter 14

The world was fire.

Smoke choked the air, thick and suffocating, curling around Sofia’s breath as she crouched behind the crumbled stone wall. The battle raged all around her, the sounds of gunfire and shouting melding into a single, dissonant roar. She could feel the earth vibrating beneath her boots with each explosion, each strike.

She had seen war before. Seen blood. Seen death. But nothing prepared her for this.

It had started as a calculated assault, a well-planned ambush to cripple the Marshal’s forces. They had the advantage, the element of surprise. But in war, nothing ever went as planned.

The first wave of gunfire had shattered the air, and from there, everything had descended into madness. Soldiers moved with a rhythm of their own, too fast, too frantic. Commands were shouted, orders lost in the cacophony of battle.

Sofia’s heart hammered in her chest. She had learned to fight alongside James and the others, had learned to survive, but this was different. This was chaos.

She spotted him through the smoke. James.

He was charging forward, rifle raised, eyes locked on the enemy ahead. He was leading the charge—no hesitation, no fear. Just the calculated focus of a man who had fought through a hundred battles and always emerged victorious. But even James wasn’t invincible.

A bullet whizzed past Sofia’s ear, snapping her attention back to the present. She ducked instinctively, her fingers clutching the rifle tighter as she crouched low behind the stone wall. Her pulse pounded in her throat, but her thoughts were sharp, focused. She needed to get to James. She couldn’t let him face this alone.

She peered over the edge of the stone, scanning the battlefield. She saw him again—his broad shoulders, his movements deliberate as he advanced through the field. But then, everything happened in an instant.

There was a flash of movement. A shout. The sharp crack of a gunshot.

James staggered, his body jerking with the impact. For a moment, he remained standing, eyes wide, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. But then, slowly, he crumpled to the ground, disappearing into the haze of smoke and dirt.

“Sofia!” Mila’s voice sliced through the chaos, filled with panic. “James—he’s down! We need to get to him!”

Sofia’s breath hitched, a sense of dread flooding her chest. Without a second thought, she bolted, rushing toward the fallen soldier, her rifle slung across her back.

She pushed through the smoke, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Her heart thundered in her ears. She didn’t care about the enemy. She didn’t care about anything but James.

She found him moments later, sprawled on the ground, blood soaking through his shirt, his face pale. His body was limp, his hand clutching his side, where the wound was deep, the blood still flowing freely.

“James!” Sofia cried, dropping to her knees beside him. “James, stay with me. Please, stay with me!”

His eyes flickered open, weak and disoriented. “Sofia…” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the distant sounds of battle. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice trembling as she pressed her hand against the wound. “You’re not dying. Not today. I won’t let you.”

His lips curled into a weak, bloodied smile, but there was no strength in it. “You’ve always been stubborn.”

Her hand shook as she tried to apply pressure, her mind racing. She knew the wound was serious. She knew it could be fatal. But she couldn’t lose him. Not after everything they had been through.

“Stay with me, James,” she pleaded again, her tears falling freely. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

He blinked slowly, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he fought to stay conscious. “You’re a hell of a woman, Sofia. I never thought… I never thought I’d find someone like you.”

Her chest constricted, and she leaned down, pressing her forehead against his. “You’re not leaving me,” she whispered fiercely. “Not now. Not ever.”

Her voice broke with the weight of her words, but she didn’t care. She was scared. More scared than she had ever been. She had seen death up close, seen people she loved slip away, but this felt different. James was different.

He was everything to her.

For a moment, everything went quiet. The sounds of the battle, the screaming, the gunfire—all of it faded into a distant hum. It was just her and him. And the desperate need to keep him alive.

Mila appeared beside her, a medic’s kit in hand. “Sofia, we need to move him. Now.”

Sofia didn’t hesitate. With Mila’s help, they carefully lifted James, his body limp and unresisting. His breathing was shallow, and he looked as if he was barely holding on.

They moved quickly, but the battle wasn’t done yet. As they made their way to the safety of the rear lines, Sofia felt every moment stretch into eternity. The weight of James’s unconscious form was a constant reminder of how fragile life truly was.

Finally, they reached the medic tent, and James was quickly laid down on one of the cots. Sofia stayed close to him, refusing to leave his side, even as the medics worked quickly, their hands moving with practiced precision.

Sofia’s hands trembled as she reached for his, squeezing it tightly, as though her touch alone could pull him back from the edge.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me, James. I can’t…”

His hand twitched slightly in hers, and for a moment, she thought he was slipping away. But then, his fingers curled around hers, weak but real.

“I’m still here,” he rasped, his voice rough. “I’m still here, Sofia.”

A wave of relief flooded her chest, but it was short-lived. His condition was dire. His face was pale, his breathing labored, and the medics were working furiously to stop the bleeding, but it was touch and go.

For what felt like hours, Sofia stayed at his side, refusing to leave, her mind consumed with the fear of losing him. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—lose him.

And when the medics finally stepped back, their faces grim but relieved, Sofia felt a small breath of hope.

James wasn’t dead. He wasn’t gone.

But he was far from safe. And Sofia knew, deep down, that the war—this war—was far from over.