Smoke hung low over Hollowmere.
The battle had ended, but the silence that followed was not peace. It was the kind that settled after something had broken when the shouting stopped and only the wounded still moved.
Eira stood in the middle of the square, her hands still glowing faintly. The light inside her flickered now, tired. Her knees ached. Her arms hung heavy at her sides.
But she was still standing.
Harrower was gone.
When the light had surged and pushed back his darkness, he had retreated. Not in fear, he was too proud for that, but in calculation. He had not expected her to hold. He had not expected them all to fight as one.
Now the village was filled with the sounds of pain, moaning, sobs, the crackle of dying flames.
Eira lowered her hands and turned. "Lena?"
"I'm here," Lena said softly, stepping out from behind a ruined cart. Her cloak was scorched, her cheeks blackened with soot, but her eyes still burned with quiet strength.
Torin sat near the monument, pressing cloth to a deep gash in his leg. Blood soaked the bandage, but he only grunted when Kaela tried to help.
"Stop pushing me," he muttered.
"Then stop being stubborn," Kaela shot back, tying the cloth tighter. She had a long scratch across her jaw and a limp in her step.
Thorne stood apart from them, near the edge of the square. His swords were sheathed now. He was still, too still, staring into the trees where the Harrower had vanished.
Eira walked over slowly. "You're hurt," she said.
He didn't look at her. "I've been worse."
"You kept me from falling."
"I told you I would."
Eira watched him for a moment. His eyes were cold again, that familiar wall rising between them.
"Why didn't he stay?" she asked.
Thorne finally looked at her. "Because you made him bleed. That's something he doesn't forget."
A breeze passed through the square, carrying the scent of ash and burned earth. Behind them, villagers were gathering what they could, helping the wounded, dragging away what remained of the dead.
"Do you think he'll come back?" Eira asked.
Thorne nodded slowly. "Yes. But not the same way. Next time, he'll bring more. He'll be ready."
Eira swallowed hard. She wanted to feel proud, wanted to believe they had won something but all she could feel was the weight of what came next.
"How many did we lose?" she asked quietly.
Lena came up behind her. "Too many."
Eira turned. A woman stood nearby, clutching her child close. The boy's eyes were wide, his arm bandaged now. Eira remembered pulling him from the dust, remembered the blood. He gave her a small, shaky nod.
"You saved him," Lena said. "You saved more than you know."
"I couldn't save everyone."
"No one can."
For a moment, none of them spoke. The sky above was still dark with smoke, the sun barely cutting through it. Hollowmere was broken, but not lost.
Eira walked to the center of the square. She looked at the ruined cottages, the blood-streaked ground, the people who still stood despite it all.
"We can't stay here," she said. "The Veil will come back."
"We're not strong enough to move them all," Kaela said. "Half of these people can barely walk."
"Then we help them. We move them one at a time if we have to. But we don't wait here for the next wave."
Thorne stepped forward. "Where will we go?"
Eira looked at him. At all of them.
"There's a place," she said slowly. "My mother spoke of it in the shard. The Ember Path. I don't know where it leads, but I think… I think it's where we're meant to go."
Silence. Then Lena nodded.
"We follow the flame."
Torin pushed himself to his feet, wincing. "Just give me a horse."
Kaela sheathed her blade. "We'll need to leave before nightfall."
Eira turned once more to the villagers. Some looked at her with hope. Others with fear. But none looked away.
"We move at dusk," she said. "And this time, we go together."