The hollow silence of the deserted Arymh district mirrored Isaac's turmoil with cruel precision. His chest heaved, each breath a ragged gasp as the adrenaline of battle bled away, leaving only a numbing chill of despair. Hidayat's desperate plea echoed in his mind, his protector's face etched with a fear Isaac had never seen before. A wave of self-loathing crashed over him, splintering his resolve. Why was he so weak, so useless? He clenched his fists, teeth grinding as frustration welled within him. He should have been faster, stronger—anything but the trembling figure he was now.

Yet, through the storm of emotions, a cold, unyielding truth surfaced. He couldn't save Hidayat alone.

The realisation hit him with brutal clarity, forcing him to his knees. His knuckles pressed into the grime-streaked cobblestones as he struggled against the sob threatening to escape. Hidayat—his friend, his guardian—was now at the mercy of their enemies. The thought was unbearable, clawing at his chest like an iron vice. Isaac wanted to scream, to lash out at the world that had stolen Hidayat from him.

But something deeper, defiant, refused to let him crumble. Hidayat had trusted him, had sent him away for a reason. That trust would not be in vain. Gritting his teeth, Isaac pushed himself upright, legs trembling under the weight of both his despair and his determination. He needed help—needed to find Kalim. Despite their differences, Kalim was Hidayat's brother. Surely, blood would mean something. Surely, Kalim would listen.

Isaac forced himself forward, his steps faltering but purposeful. The ravaged streets stretched out before him like a battlefield's ghost, each shattered window and overturned cart a testament to the chaos that had engulfed their world. Shadows flickered and danced at the edges of his vision, making him jump at every imagined movement. But he pressed on, desperation driving him forward like a whip at his back.

As Isaac rounded a corner, a shadow detached itself from the gloom, and he froze. Kalim stood before him, his stance tense, his face a careful mask of suspicion.

Their gazes locked, and the air between them thickened with unspoken tension. Isaac could see the conflict in Kalim's expression, the wary doubt that flickered across his features. Yet, beneath it, something else stirred—a shared concern for Hidayat that transcended their animosity.

For a long moment, neither spoke, the silence crackling like static before a storm. Then Isaac broke it, his voice raw but steady, carried by sheer resolve.

"Kalim," he began, the weight of their situation dragging every syllable. "We need to talk."

Kalim's sharp eyes narrowed, suspicion mingling with a glimmer of curiosity. He didn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening as if bracing for a confrontation.

Isaac took a steadying breath, gripping his resolve like a lifeline. Asking Kalim for help felt like standing on the edge of a blade, but there was no other way. Hidayat's life was worth every risk.

"Hidayat needs us," Isaac said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. "I know we don't get on. I know we've had our differences. But you care for him, just like I do. We can't let our pride stop us now."

For a moment, Kalim didn't respond, his expression as impenetrable as stone. Then, as Isaac held his gaze, something shifted. The mention of Hidayat softened the lines on Kalim's face, and he exhaled sharply. Whatever anger or mistrust lingered seemed to fade in the face of the truth they both knew: Hidayat needed them.

Kalim nodded, the motion stiff but sincere. "You're right," he admitted, his voice low. "This isn't about us."

That fragile truce hung in the air, an unspoken agreement forged from necessity. Without another word, they turned towards the direction of the battle. The tension between them lingered, but it was no longer the defining force. Their shared purpose pushed them forward.

The ruins of the Arymh district loomed around them, a mournful testament to the destruction that had swept through their city. Smoke curled into the sky, a grim reminder of the chaos that had torn apart their lives. Each step they took seemed to echo with the weight of what was at stake.

Isaac glanced at Kalim, drawing strength from his presence despite their history. Together, they moved with purpose, bound by their determination to save Hidayat—whatever the cost.

***

The acrid stench of burning wood and scorched earth grew stronger as Isaac and Kalim approached the outskirts of the battlefield. The distant clang of swords and the anguished cries of the wounded rang out like a grim symphony, sending a chill through their spines. Exchanging a tense glance, they silently vowed to see this through, no matter the cost.

As they edged closer to the heart of the carnage, the grim scene unfolded before them. Bodies lay strewn across the blood-soaked ground, a horrific tableau of chaos and destruction. Fires flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow over the shattered remains of what had once been a thriving district.

In the midst of the devastation, they found Marinov. The sight stopped them in their tracks. The once-imposing figure, clad in dented and charred armour, lay sprawled on the ground, his body battered and broken. His face, usually so composed, was now a mask of exhaustion and pain.

Isaac hesitated, a storm of emotions surging within him as he stared at the fallen man. Marinov had been an enemy, an ally, and something in between. Seeing him reduced to this stirred a strange, reluctant pity in Isaac's chest.

"Marinov," Isaac said at last, his voice unsteady with disbelief. "What happened? Where's Hidayat?"

Marinov stirred at the sound of his name, his head lifting weakly. Blood stained his lips as he tried to speak, his words barely more than a rasp. "Arymh," he croaked, each syllable laboured. "They've taken Hidayat. I... I tried to stop them, but... there were too many."

The broken admission hit Isaac like a hammer blow. His fists clenched at his sides as anger bubbled to the surface, mixing with despair. His voice cracked as he lashed out. "You promised to protect him, Marinov! You were supposed to keep him safe!"

Kalim, uncharacteristically silent, watched Marinov with a guarded expression. The shame etched into Marinov's features was undeniable. He sat slumped against the rubble, his head bowed, offering no defence against Isaac's fury.

"You always let people down," Isaac snarled, tears brimming in his eyes. "I thought—just once—I thought you'd be different. That you'd do what was right. But you failed him. You failed all of us!"

The words spilled out, fuelled by grief and frustration. Isaac grabbed Marinov by the collar, yanking him upright despite the man's obvious injuries. "You were supposed to be his friend!" he shouted. "You were supposed to be better than this!"

Marinov didn't resist, his eyes filled with guilt. "I tried," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I swear, Isaac, I tried. But they were too strong. I wasn't enough."

With a growl, Isaac shoved him back onto the ground, disgust and sorrow warring on his face. "Not enough?" he spat. "You let them take him! You abandoned him, just like you abandon everyone!"

Kalim stepped forward then, placing a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder. "That's enough," he said quietly but firmly. His calm tone cut through the tension, grounding Isaac's spiralling anger. "Marinov is injured. Shouting at him won't bring Hidayat back."

Isaac turned on Kalim, his eyes blazing. "And what do you suggest, Kalim?" he snapped. "That we just forgive him? Hidayat could be dead right now because of him!"

Kalim's grip tightened. "We don't have time for this," he said, his voice low but resolute. "If we want to save Hidayat, we need to act. Now."

Isaac's anger simmered, but he grudgingly nodded, his chest heaving as he fought to rein in his emotions. "Fine," he muttered through clenched teeth. "But if we fail... if anything happens to Hidayat... this is on him." He shot Marinov a venomous glare before turning away.

Marinov's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression haunted. The weight of his failure pressed down on him like a physical force. Kalim spared him a glance, his own feelings unreadable, before motioning for Isaac to follow.

The three of them moved forward, tension thick in the air. The battlefield loomed ahead, its fires casting long, flickering shadows. Despite the bitterness and anger between them, a fragile alliance held—for now. Together, they pressed on, bound by the desperate hope of saving the one person who had brought them all together.