My mind emptied, and the ring of water in my eyes finally made its way down my cheeks.

No...

Not Victor.

Please, please, no.

Turmoil roared in my ears, and I slammed my hand to the gravel, releasing a wave of fury and heartbreak through the leather barrier of my glove. The Pan collapsed to the ground a moment later, her murder weapon slipping from her pale hand, and with a dosage that large, I suspected she wouldn't wake again until nightfall.  

"Victor..." I whimpered, but he didn't move.

He didn't move.

Weeping, I dragged my body forward, determined to save my friend—to stop the bleeding—but putting Victor's killer to sleep had drained me, and I struggled to silence the pain in my thigh long enough to make the distance.

Come on. 

You've been through worse, Al. Push past it.

I may have rendered a battalion unconscious, and the vanadium may have infected my bloodstream, but I was stronger than ever. I was Ve'Rah Daa. I was fine. Even if the blood dripping from my nose told a different story.

Exhausted, I slumped against the concrete to catch my breath, glaring at the battlefield through my tears. Several demons had spotted our skirmish, and they marched for me now, their blades drawn, their mission evident.

A bolt of panic shot through me, and I paid a quick glance at Victor, who lay several yards away from me—soaking the rubble in blood—then at Demon-Tom, whose feet had nearly regenerated.

"Dammit!" I hissed into the dirt, my arms shaking as I attempted to crawl forward yet again. I needed to get to Victor. I had to get to Victor. "Dammit, dammit, dammit—"

"Easy," came a familiar voice, then a steadying hand on my back. The gentle, fatherly touch triggered another flood behind my lashes.

"Rover," I choked, twisting to look at his grimy face. Helmet hair clung to his forehead, and his seawater eyes gleamed with an unsaid apology. "Victor needs you. Now."

My tone killed any relief he'd cultivated, and his gaze snapped to the bodies sprawled across the debris. He quickly dashed for Victor and dragged his limp figure away from Tom—and the demon's wide, provoking grin.

"Oh no you don't," he told the bloody soldier. "You're not getting out of diaper duty that easy, Álvarez."

The smallest of laughs shook Victor's chest, and a shaky breath exploded from mine.

He's alive.

Large hands looped themselves under my armpits, and I tensed, fearing another deadly encounter. But when their owner swiftly pulled me to my feet and held me upright, I knew exactly who'd come to my rescue.

"I got you," Sol said in my ear, lifting my arm around his nape and removing the weight from my leg. There was fondness there, under his concern, but his gaze quickly latched onto Siren's husband, and any hint of joy disappeared.

Together, we hobbled toward the others, and Victor squinted up at us from Rover's lap, his clothes drenched in blood, his olive skin too pale, too sweaty.

Gritz, I wanted to curl up in a ball and scream.

"You saved me," I whispered, my face wet, my throat taut. It sounded more accusatory than grateful, but I knew he recognized the guilt on my tongue. 

Like so many of my fallen comrades, he was here because of me. 

He mustered a small smile. "I wasn't...about to let Tommy kill his only...family," he reasoned, his words winded and sluggish and nothing at all like the man who uttered them. "Now...now we're even, the two of us. I can die knowing my debt...was repaid." He winced, then shivered as the cold took hold of him. "Well...the non-monetary variety...at least."

"You're not dying," Rover said, keeping both hands pressed to the gruesome chest wound. His knuckles had vanished under a sea of deep, devastating red, and I felt sick to my stomach—not because of the macabre images, but the diagnosis they promised. "We'll find a medic to stitch you up, and you'll be back on your feet in no time."

A sudden scuffle of boots and a violent grunt had my gaze flying back to Demon-Tom. We'd left my brother unattended too long, and he'd healed up well enough to snatch his knife and pounce on us. 

Or...attempt to, anyway.

Our bomb specialist, covered head-to-toe in palace dust, had his boot pressed to Tom's face, his axe resting on the demon's breast, and I realized he'd come to our rescue in the nick of time. He also looked pissed as hell, though I had to wonder if his abortive demolition attempt had something to do with that. 

"Claus," I breathed, Will's name shooting through my heart and up my larynx. "Is—"

"Alive," he confirmed, still glaring at Tom. "He's off looking for his brother."

Just like that, my heart found its rhythm again, and I sagged against my human crutch. I wasn't sure I could have survived a different answer.

"Seems to be the trend today," Sol murmured. He scowled at my brother, but even his hatred carried pity, like the cross he wore around his neck barred him from harsh dichotomies.

Victor coughed then, spattering Rover's uniform in frothy blood, and everyone went still.

Everyone but Victor.

"Wright, listen to me," he said urgently, grasping at Rover's clothes, seeking his full attention before he lost consciousness. "You...you take care of my girls, okay?"

Rover closed his eyes, reining in the tears. "Don't talk like that."

"Tell Sye...tell her I would have stayed this time around," the swordsman went on, his brown eyes wet with remorse. "I wanted to stay."

Gritz, his conviction stung. He was finally ready to set his personal wants aside for his family. He was ready to be the man Siren needed, to commit to her and their future. But the Fates favored irony over happiness, and I feared they'd chosen Victor's thread to weave a modern fable.

"You can tell her that yourself," Rover replied sternly, denying a reality in which Victor didn't live to name his child. He turned to Claus, working hard to embody the composed and fearless leader we needed right now. "Sol and I will handle Tom. I need you to take Victor to Nazir. Can you do that?"

Claus nodded, and Sol detached himself from my side as the two soldiers swapped places, their wary gazes—and their weapons—aimed at my brother.

But as Claus reached for Victor, the wounded man grabbed Rover's forearm, desperate for his confirmation. "Wright. You hear me?"

Rover stared at him through damp, angry eyes. "I told you: you're not dying. Not on my watch."

"I may be a fool...but I'm no idiot," Victor rasped. "Now promise me...promise you'll look after them."

The despair on Rover's face drove a dagger through my heart, and I knew he was thinking of Siren. How he'd let her down. How he'd failed her.

Out of necessity, he'd come to terms with his subordinates' selfless choices, but beneath his badge and rusty armor, his heart still bled for every soldier he'd recruited. And like any leader, their deaths were his burden to bear.

Indefinitely.

"No...I won't promise you that. I won't need to," Rover argued. "Because you're gonna hold your baby girl again, you welt. You're gonna watch her grow up and teach her how to cook something edible—you'll have to, 'cus Siren doesn't know what the hell she's doing in the kitchen."

Sol and Claus watched on in helpless silence, their expressions pained, their eyes glassy, while I stood there balancing on my good leg, trying—and failing—to hold it together.

Rover sniffled, and I couldn't help thinking that the pale tracks on his cheeks resembled battle scars more than tear stains. "Then, when she's grown, and she's convinced herself she's smarter than you, you're gonna scare off all the boys who confess their feelings. You're gonna rip every marriage contract to shreds until she finds someone worthy of her love. And you're gonna annoy the hell out of your wife until you're both too old to bicker." He narrowed his eyes like any superior would, but the water falling off his lashes betrayed his vulnerability. "That's an order."

Victor blinked at him slowly, and a sad grin danced on his lips, like the idea of taking orders from anyone was downright hysterical. I was certain he saw through the colonel's denial, his reassurances, his fears. But he decided to humor him instead—for Rover's sake.

Deep down, he knew the answer to his question anyway.

With a conceding nod, his hand dropped from Rover's bracer, and finally, he allowed Claus to gather him in his arms. 

The stout soldier threw Victor over his shoulder in one gruff motion, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain from his cargo, and I stepped forward to grab Victor's hand before Claus carried him away.

"Thank you," I said to the man who'd saved me—and by default, my brother. "Thank you for everything, Victor."

For taking a chance on me in Primm. For catching me when the bridge snapped. For giving Will the tools to win his Rite. For training our rag-tag army.

He squeezed my palm, telling me he understood, that he'd do it all over again if given the chance. "Keep the fire lit...darling." His bloody lips lifted at the corners. "And burn it down...if you must..."

Then they were off.

Rover slowly, numbly stood from Victor's puddle of blood, swallowing hard, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him. But we didn't have time to mourn anyone right now. There would be plenty of time for that later—and plenty of friends to grieve.

Fanning away the pall of Nova's prophecy, I redirected my attention to the approaching demons. There were six of them now, less than a minute away.

My fingers twitched. "I can—"

"No," Rover said, stepping in front of me to block my view of our new arrivals. "Save your strength for Regulas. Sol and I can take them."

My uncertain gaze slid to my brother, who glared at the tip of Sol's sword—and its proximity to his throat.

"We'll keep Tom in check," Sol assured me. "It's what we do." 

I looked between them, the two men who loved my brother as much as I did—who'd do everything they could to protect his fragile soul—and I wiped my eyes.  "Okay. Just..." 

Stay alive? Don't die? Prioritize your safety?  What could I possibly ask of them when humanity depended on our victory? 

"...Don't be stupid," I decided. 

"Likewise," Rover huffed, unsheathing his broadsword and facing the Pans. "Can you walk?"

Tentatively, I shifted my weight, my face pinching at the sharp twinge in my left thigh, but the movement didn't trigger any nausea, and I wasn't leaking mist anymore—just good ol' human blood. "I think I can make it to the portal."

Beyond that, I wasn't sure.

He nodded like I'd said it aloud. "You'll make it, Fuse. If anyone can end this, it's you."

My puffy eyes trailed to the beam of hellfire above us, and my insides coiled with dread. "Let's hope that's true."

************************************************

Sorry for another long wait (I swear I'm planning to return to biweekly updates)! 

BUT I have some news:

1) I just bought my first house with my man, and it's been a whirlwind. Totally scraped my savings clean lmao. It's a bit of a fixer upper -- I wouldn't have been able to afford it otherwise -- so I imagine home repairs are going to cut into my evening writing time a little. Was NOT expecting to add that to my 2023 bingo card.

2) I still don't have answers on my mysterious abdominal pain, but I think it might be a hidden hernia that didn't show up on my ct scan. It's been going on 8 months, so your girl is DESPERADO. Ruled out the more concerning diagnoses, though. 

3) There are only ~10 chapters left in this entire series! So we're getting VERRYYY close. I still want to try and finish this book by New Year's, but again, I have some unprecedented obstacles ahead. 

Thanks again for reading/voting/commenting. There are like 20 of you who have been here for YEARS, and I am forever grateful to you guys for your constant support.