May the gods and the Light-Bringer save us all if we fail, thought Olek Neigeson. He had counted the medical supplies once, twice, five times. Everyone handled going into battle differently.

Akaljot spent it strategizing, going over the plans several times---sometimes, he would ask a soldier to spar with him. His younger brother, Volodomyr, cracked jokes more often---lifting soldiers' spirits.

"Olek!" Volodomyr shouted, snapping his fingers inches from his face.

"What?" he asked, looking at him.

"Crown Prince Andrei Dragos wants to go over the plans Akaljot and Ember---I mean, Marilyn---came up with," said Volodomyr.

Olek reluctantly followed his brother out of the tent. They were mirror images of each other---the same white hair, fair skin, and blue eyes; the same power over winter---yet Volodomyr was somehow the more attractive one. Was it because he smiled more often? Or was it because women preferred a veteran over a medic?

"So, you're a red head," Volodomyr said to Marilyn Pyro. "I always thought you were blonde."

"Very funny, Neigeson," she said bluntly, throwing the shorn blond ends of her hair into the fire.

Olek stood beside Volodomyr, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Looks like you got a tough crowd, brother."

They met Marilyn Pyro in Friedens, the capitol of Eirineftes, when she was a servant for their emperor. She gave them a false name. The only thing that tied the servant and the princess together was their golden eyes.

"Prince Andrei wants to go over the plans you concocted," Volodomyr said, all jokes aside. "Bring us up to speed."

Volodomyr led them deeper into the camp and into a tent. Andrei and a dark-skinned man sat around a table. Olek knew the man immediately. He was Lord Warren, right Hand to the Emperor of Eirineftes.

They took their seats around the table. Olek tuned most of it out as most of it had nothing to do with him.

"She knows I'm coming," said Marilyn, "and that I won't surrender without a fight."

This is madness, he thought. No one dares to take on the House of Fire. The world knows that going to war with them is mass suicide.

After Marilyn finished going over it, Olek got up and left. He needed air, to reorganize the medical supplies.

"Olek," said his brother, running after him. "Olek, stop! What is going on?"

Olek whirled on his brother. "This is madness, Volodomyr. Staging a coup against Queen Ashlynn---against the House of Fire? You remember as well as I do what Adramelech did during the War of Independence. How he burned our men alive? How he turned you commander, our friend, into a pyrophobic?"

"Ashlynn is a witch, Olek. We also have a Pyro with us. Everything is going to be okay."

Olek believed him. He went back to counting the medical supplies until nightfall the next day. He stood beside his brother at the edge of the forest outside the Lucinean capitol. Olek head Andrei and his men howl like a pack of wolves.

"Everything is going to change, Olek," said Volodomyr. "I know it."

"I still think that Marilyn is insane," Olek replied.

"I will be fine. I can take care of myself," Marilyn told Akaljot a short distance away.

"Be careful, anyways," said Akaljot.

They watched the princess ride off in her red and gold armor.

"Alright, men," Akaljot ordered. "We ride out and invade from the south."

The small force of Krigereans mounted their horses. Akaljot galloped away, heading south as Marilyn told them.

***

They left their horses in the outer blocks of the city, preferring stealth over speed. The only sound they made was from their breathing, and their boots crunching on the gravel in the cobblestones.

They made it a few blocks from the main square when something flickered on the rooftop ahead. Had the silver stitching on his uniform did not catch the moonlight, he would have been invisible.

"On the roof! Witch-Hunter! Get down!" Olek shouted, tugging the men around him down.

Gunfire rang out as the Witch-Hunters opened fire.

"Take cover!" Akaljot barked.

Olek and Volodomyr took cover behind a cart.

"You're smiling?" Olek asked in shock. "The same people---the same monsters---who tortured Marilyn are shooting at us, and you're smiling."

Volodomyr loaded his musket. "Why do you have to be so serious, Olek?" he asked. Volodomyr peeked out from behind the cart, aimed his musket, and fired. He ducked behind the cart, laughing.

"Some days I think that you are just as insane as House Dragos!" Olek shouted while Volodomyr reloaded.

"I'm flattered that you may think I'm Napoleon's son." Volodomyr fired at another Witch-Hunter. "But that wouldn't explain why we look like Fannar, would it?"

A light as bright as the sun shone, and Olek and Volodomyr squinted. Volodomyr looked away, securing his bayonet to his musket. Olek peeked out from behind the cart, shielding his eyes. Akaljot stood before a Witch-Hunter, light shining from his raised palms. The Hunter cringed away from the light. Olek ran out from behind the cart to the Hunter, tackling him to the ground. The light disappeared; the hunter lay helpless under Olek's weight.

He could not have been more than fourteen. Akaljot ran closer, peering down at the boy.

"Callum?" he said in confusion. "Olek, ease up on him."

"You know him?" Olek asked, standing up.

Volodomyr stood behind Callum, musket trained on his head.

"He's going to kill her," Callum warned. "Queen Ashlynn is going to make him kill her."

"Make who kill who?" asked Volodomyr.

"The princess! Her best friend---Captain Gomez---is going to kill her!" Callum shouted, fighting against his mind.

Akaljot paled. Marilyn's best friend was going to kill her.

Callum opened his mouth and started rambling on about nonsense.

Volodomyr rolled his eyes, fed up with the boy's antics. "Shut it," he said, slamming the butt of his musket into the boy's head.

Callum's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he slumped to the cobblestones.

"We have to go," Akaljot said, running towards the square.

They ran after him, the rest of their men following.

Royal guards spilled onto the streets, swords, and muskets in hand. They slowly advanced. Olek saw a red and gold figure flying through the air in the distance.

"Go, go," Volodomyr shouted, pulling Olek to his feet, and shoving him forward.

Multiple other people ran forward. Guards and Witch-Hunters lay dead around them in red and gold, or black and silver. The man in front of Olek stumbled and fell as a stray bullet his him. Olek propped the man up against a wall, shrugging off his pack. He took out some bandages and pressed them onto the man's wound.

"Hands up, witch," someone barked.

Olek looked behind him. A Witch-Hunter stood before him, two royal guards flanking him, muskets aimed at them.

Olek raised a hand, the other on the man's wound. "I am not a witch---I am a medic. Let me help this man, please."

The men did not listen.

"No!"

Olek looked away right when the Hunter and guards fired their muskets. He waited for the searing pain from the bullets to hit him.

It did not come.

Olek looked up and blanched. Volodomyr stood before him, shielding them from the bullets. Olek got to his feet, throwing his arm out to the Hunter and guards, his other arm around his brother. Ice spikes shot from the ground and impaled the three men---killing them instantly.

Volodomyr's musket clattered on the cobblestones as he slumped against him. Olek carefully lowered them both to the ground.

The look of amusement that he had just minutes before was replaced with one of fear. Volodomyr gasped for air but was unable to draw a breath.

"Everything is going to change, Olek," he had said just hours prior. "I know it."

A single tear fell from Volodomyr's eyes. He drew one last rattling breath before breathing no more.

Tears welled up in Olek's eyes. He let out a scream of loss, the temperature dropping as snow began to fall. He closed Volodomyr's eyes with his thumb and middle finger. He picked up his brother's musket and unleashed his rage on the Witch-Hunters.