Page 133 of Warlord's Plaything

Not soft.

Not romantic.

Raw. Destroyed. Like she hates herself for saying it, but she knows it’s the truth.

And fuck?—

Fuck.

I feel my own walls crack.

I love her too.

And I will not watch her die.

"We leave NOW!"

My voice roars across the battlefield.

Our warriors hear me.

They start falling back, retreating toward the tunnels.

The last of our strength is spent getting there, fighting through the final line of enemies, pushing, bleeding, surviving.

We make it.

Barely.

And as we disappear into the underground, as the flames of Herox burn above us?—

I know this is not the end.

This is just the beginning.

43

HIRA

The tunnels are too quiet.

The battle above still rages—I can hear the distant echoes of war, the screams of the dying, the roar of flames consuming what’s left of Herox.

But down here?

Down here, in the cold dark beneath the ruins of a broken clan?—

There is nothing.

Just the shuffle of exhausted feet. The ragged sound of breathing. The soft, choked sobs of men who just lost everything.

And me?—

Sitting in the fucking dirt, with blood-stiffened clothes, a hollow chest, and hands that won’t stop shaking.

Sella and Dagen are gone.

I keep saying it in my head, but it doesn’t feel real.

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