I felt like I'd been trampled by a horse.

"Sir...the Interior," a soldier said as a group of men took Will away.

Tom heaved a sigh and placed a hand on my shoulder.  "I'm sorry, Al.  I don't have time to talk now.  I was just about to leave for Holly—it's urgent."

I shook my head dismissively, slipping out of my shock, my residual anger. "Tom, you've got to deliver a message. The demons have taken Belgate.  There are more on our tail, just west of here. We've been invaded."

Tom's face went white as boxes crashed to the ground, heads swiveled, reins snagged, and a hundred men tasted the aftershock of a task fulfilled.

"They broke through the Rim?" someone asked fearfully.

"It can't be...Belgate's fortified..."

"Were there any other survivors?" 

"We're not sure," I said, and several men blanched.

I felt for them. Most soldiers had never felt the deep abyss of anxiety and concern for their loved ones. They'd never been on the receiving end of perpetual uncertainty. They'd left their homes to protect their families, and now our homefront had been gutted.

Tom cleared histhroat—and the panic welling there. "When did this happen?"

"Three days ago."

He frowned, staring into empty space, forecasting and calculating. Just like our father did when he faced inadequate crop yields or his latest pest problem.

"Tom," I pressed. "Dad told me to warn Holly. You've got to hurry."

He blinked away the haze of machinations, then nodded. "I'll inform the Command. You and your friends stick with Rover until I get back." He exchanged looks with one of his subordinates, and the blond soldier dipped his chin, passing me an easy grin. "And don't...wander. Okay?"

"Okay."

I hugged him once more—before he could disappear again, before I woke up grasping air. His arms instantly enveloped me, and I dug my nails into his uniform, holding onto him as tightly as I could. Clinging to a ghost in a grown man's body.

"Is Dad okay?" he whispered in my ear.

"I don't know."

He kissed the top of my head and released me, fighting back the emotions in his eyes. The fear and vulnerability there.

Dazed, I watched him mount his horse and speed off into the valley with four other men, and I let out a long, bewildered breath. I could still feel him on my fingertips, his physical presence, his tangibility, and it sent three more tears rolling down my cheeks.

After six years, my brother had risen from his grave.

"We call them Pans," said Rover.

Mason wrinkled his nose.  "Why?"

"Short for Paranormal, Type A classification." He smiled, opening the door to the armory. "Don't look at me like that; I wasn't around when they named the things."

Rover reminded me a lot of Tom.  He was charming, gregarious.  The kind of man who can work a crowd and brighten an atmosphere. He also looked like someonewho didn't take military customs too seriously. Scraggly blond hair curtained his face, and a thin patch of stubble framed the broad, mischievous smile he wore between breaths. 

"Type A?" asked Fudge.  "There are different types?"

"A is the kind in human bodies.  Humanoids.  The ones you've seen in Belgate.  Type B look like smoke.  The raw energy that actually enters a body.  Pots."

Pots and Pans.                  

I wondered if there was a psychological incentive behind the names.  If perhaps calling the demons inanimate objects helped quell the soldiers' fears. 

"Pots are confined to the East, near the portals," Rover said. "They can't travel far from their source. Not without a body."

"Wait," Mason paled. "Did you just say portals? Plural?"

Rover nodded. "There's a monstrous portal within Sterling's stronghold.  It's the first one ever created—the mothership of its fleet.  But the Pans are able to produce other gateways on a smaller scale, all along the Rim.  There are probably ten or twelve on our border right now. Geysers spewing demons."

"Can you destroy them?" I asked.

"Ha! You bet we can. We can dismantle 'em if we're able to get close enough. Break the magic seals on the ground and the portals shut off like nightlights. But it doesn't take long for the enemy to open up another portal the second we destroy its sister."

Great.  These demons were infinite and resourceful.  

"And this...mothership," said Fudge, "have you tried to take it out?"

Right.  Take out the original portal, and maybe we'd see a domino effect.  Maybe we'd buy ourselves enough time to end this war if Sterling couldn't manufacture more soldiers.

"Unfortunately, we've never come close enough to the premises to even try. Our troops never made it past the Gorge."  Rover pointed at the weapon on my belt.  "Also. You're gonna have to ditch that sword if you plan on killing anything, Kingsley."

Stretch's weapon grew heavy at my side. I'd fought my first couple of demons—Pans—with that thing.  It was kind of special.

"In case you haven't noticed, demons don't die easily.  The only thing capable of killing a Pan is vanadium."

"Vanadium?" Mason repeated.

"It's a rare metal," Fudge clarified.

I thought of Mason's magical sword and its ash-rendering capabilities. I suppose that explained why the custom weapon had cost so much—it contained the one material capable of ending this war.

"We use vanadium steel in our weapons.  It's easy to work with and tough as hell," Rover elaborated.  "But like Freckles pointed out, it's rare.  We don't have much left in our reserve, and that scarcity is one of the reasons we abandoned firearms. Aside from the fact no guns exist in a thousand mile radius, they're impractical, even if we could find enough vanadium bullets."

"So you can't just blow up a bunch of those things?  Bomb them in a giant land mine or something?" asked Mason.

"We can. Bombs made of vanadium shavings and shrapnel are effective on the Rim. But we don't have enough fire power, and vanadium combat weapons are the only way to conserve the metal." He eyed Mason's rapier. "Three years ago, the Command sent a mining party to scavenge for more resources in the south, but we never heard back from them."

Three years?

"I thought the Southern Ridge was safe?" I said, thinking of my father and the evacuees.

He looked at me through eyes of seawater. "So did we."

Mason examined his weapon thoughtfully. "Why hasn't anyone come to help us?"

"No one knows what we're up against," Fudge reminded him.

"Even if they did, no one would come to our rescue," I said. "Not after the Water Wars.  Not after all these centuries."

"That's assuming other countries even survived," Rover added.  "The world's gone dark.  We could very well be alone."

It wasn't an uncommonconjecture, that our warring nations were the very last of humanity. But given our current situation, I'd never heard a more terrifying statement. 

Rover went on to explain that the camp had become a central rendezvous point for the military personnel stationed at the Rim.  It served as a rotation wing, so those fighting could come back to recover here for a month or two and then deploy again. A home away from home. 

Once a year, for six months, the base held a boot camp to train the young Tournament champions across the country. To prepare them for war. To equip them for a nightmare. Its other main purpose—to protect the Interior and the densely populated areas of Ells.  A national guard of sorts. 

He guided us into themain garage where several men crouched over a glowing pot of molten vanadium. Others hammered or chiseled away at steel, filling the building with a cacophony of horrible sounds.

We approached a man sharpening an axe, and Rover slapped him on the shoulder. "Sol, this is Alex. Tom's sister.  These are her friends, Fudge and Marcus."

"It's Mason."

Sol glanced up at me with two storm-gray eyes. His skin was the color of freshly tilled soil, and he'd shaved his head to reveal a wing tattoo that spanned the base of his skull.  "Ah.  A girl with holes in her pants and two weapons on her belt.  I smell trouble."

"Good nose," I commended.

He shot me a bone-white smile and looked us over. "How'd you lot get to the Interior from Belgate?  It's at least fifty miles."

The three of us traded glances, and I shrugged. "We walked."

Sol took us in, reassessing. Then he spun in his seat to face us fully.  "You walked through the Range with a group of Pans on your tail?"

"There was some running involved," I amended.

He lifted his eyebrows. "Pans hardly sleep. They consume only what they need to keep their human bodies from falling apart, then fight or travel for days at a time. You must have moved pretty damn fast if they didn't catch you."

"They didn't catch her," Fudge corrected. "But Mason and I were captured on the second day."

"Wait. What?" Rover whipped his head around, his mouth agape. "You're serious?"

Fudge nodded.  Mason pretended he wasn't listening.

"Gritz. How many were there?"                                                     

"Twelve? No...fifteen altogether."

The men's eyes widened, and Rover shook his head, his lips splitting into a wide, wonderstruck smile. "How did you get out of that one? I would have pissed myself as a grunt."

"Ask Alex," Fudge said. "I was unconscious for most of it."

Rover and Sol looked at me expectantly. Like children waiting for a bedtime story.

"Uh. I guess...rope...and grasshoppers," I said, blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes as I recalled Will's swordsmanship and bravery.  There had also been a magical spirit chick involved, but I was hesitant to reveal that part.  Styx had disappeared into the woods, and I had a feeling she did so for a reason. "It's sort of a long story."

The two men stared at me for a moment, and then Sol jerked his thumb at me, flashing another wolfish grin.  "I think I'm gonna like this one."

It wasn't the reaction I'd anticipated, and it pulled a slow, coy smile out of me.

When Mason began showing off his rapier to Sol, hungry for attention, Rover led me out of the workshop into the courtyard. Two dozen soldiers unloaded supplies from the wagons or busied themselves with other chores, but as we passed, every man did a double take, then proceeded to mutter something to his neighbor.

Okay. 

Not subtle. At all.             

Rover slung his arm over my shoulder.  "Don't mind them.  The guys just need a little while to adjust.  You're one of the few girls they've seen for ages.  Plus, you made a grand entrance—barging into camp with a sword in hand and one of the greatest enemies of mankind at your side."

"He's not—" I bit my tongue to kill the rest of my sentence.  Why was I defending Will? 

"I'm just sayin', right now you embody everything society forbids, kid."

"Yeah," I murmured, "it's a bad habit."