Page 275 of Emylia

I didn’t respond.

What could I say?

He came at me with everything he had. Wild. Devastated. Sloppy.

But I had lived with rage longer than he had lived with grief. I wasn’t just angry. Iwasanger—forged by it, hardened through every wound life had given me.

We clashed. Blades sparked. His strength met my precision.

I struck low. He blocked. He slashed wide. I ducked. Came up under him. Our swords locked again. He pushed me against the wall. I kneed him hard in the gut. He doubled over. I raised my blade—but before I could strike, Maalikai came from behind.

His sword came down with a sickening crack, embedding in the man’s skull.

He dropped. No cry. No final word.

Just silence.

We stood in the aftermath. Chests heaving. Hands dripping.

“Thanks,” I breathed, voice ragged.

Maalikai nodded, already scanning the room.

I followed his gaze.

Bodies. So many.

Enemy. Family. Strangers.

I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

The house reeked of death and ruin. It was a sea of black and red.

And then?—

There it was.

Beneath the wreckage, half-swallowed by gore and splintered wood:

A familiar blue dress.

Bleeding into the floorboards.

Still.

Silent.

Dead.

I sprinted toward the body, barely breathing—hope and dread colliding like thunder inside me.

I dropped to my knees—too hard. Bone struck wood, but I didn’t feel it.

Didn’t even flinch.

Trembling, I reached for her. Rolled her broken body toward me.

Agony ripped through me—wildfire through bone, through sinew, through everything that kept me upright.

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