"Fuck... to think there was an A-Class Panther Chameleon lurking behind that thing."

Edward’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. He lay slumped against the cold, rough wall, one hand pressed firmly against the gash in his side. Beside him, five elite knights were scattered across the cramped space, each one wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, each one lucky to still be breathing.

"At least we all made it out alive." One of the knights let out a low, pained laugh from across the hole, wincing as the motion tugged at his wounds.

The six of them were crammed into what had once been a crater, a shallow depression carved by Edward’s own bombardment earlier in the battle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough to hide them.

The entrance above had been hastily covered with rocks and rubble, the knights working together to mask their presence from the beasts still prowling overhead.

Now it was a hidey hole. A shallow grave waiting to be discovered.

"Not for long," Edward muttered, his laugh bitter and short. His fingers tightened around the ragged wound at his waist, fresh blood seeping between them.

"Have some hope, General." Another knight spoke up, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "We’ve survived worse."

Edward didn’t answer. He just listened.

Above them, the steady march of beasts continued without pause. Heavy footfalls scraped across the dirt, sending small cascades of dust and pebbles sifting down through the gaps in the rubble. The debris caught in their eyes, their hair, their open wounds.

And beneath it all, the crater walls trembled. Every step drove cracks deeper into the earth. It wouldn’t be long before the whole thing caved in on them, whether the beasts found them or not.

RUMBLE!

The crater trembled again, longer this time. A cascade of loose dirt and pebbles rained down from the gaps in the rubble above, dust stinging Edward’s eyes. He blinked it away, jaw tightening.

"Quiet," he hissed.

The knights stilled immediately. Even breathing seemed to stop.

Above them, the footsteps paused.

Edward’s hand moved from his side to the hilt of his longsword, still strapped to his hip. The blade was chipped, stained black with dried beast blood, but it would still cut. It had to.

The silence stretched.

Then the footsteps resumed, moving away. The heavy treads grew fainter, swallowed by the distant sounds of battle still raging somewhere beyond the treeline.

Edward let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

"That was close."

"Too close." The knight across from him, a young man named Sorin with a fresh scar carving down his cheek, shifted his weight. "How long do we wait?"

"Until we can move without bleeding out." Edward glanced at the others. Five knights. All veterans. All exhausted. "Or until help arrives."

"You think help is coming?" Sorin’s voice was flat, not mocking, just tired.

Edward thought of Cassian. Of the cold, calculating eyes that had assessed him years ago and found him worthy. Of the man who had built Ravenhold into something that could withstand this endless tide.

"Yes," Edward said. "I think it is."

***

The drone of airship engines rolled across Ravenhold like thunder.

Soldiers who had fought night and day, their eyes hollow with exhaustion, looked up from the blood-soaked ramparts. Confusion flickered across their faces first.

Then hope.

The moment they saw the airships, and more specifically, the man standing at the open bay of the lead vessel, that hope caught fire.

"Clear a strip for the supplies to land!" I yelled, gripping the support bar beside the entryway, the wind whipping my coat as the aircraft descended.

"It’s the duke!"

"Did he just say supplies!?"

"Lord Noctierre has arrived!"

The chant spread like a shockwave, cutting through the chaos of battle. Soldiers who had been on the verge of breaking straightened their backs. Riflemen found fresh targets. The line, which had been bending toward collapse, suddenly held.

’This was a worthwhile trip after all.’

I thought to myself, immediately noticing the sharp surge in morale sparked by my presence alone.

On the western rampart, Anastasia’s daggers paused mid-stroke. She turned, crimson eyes narrowing as she tracked the airships overhead. The legendary Duke Noctierre in the flesh. She’d heard the stories. Now she would finally see him operate a battlefield.

"And here I thought he’d never come," she murmured.

One of the riflemen beside her glanced over, still firing. "What was that, General?"

"Nothing." Anastasia shook off the moment and turned back to the seething mass of beasts below. "Keep firing!"

The aircraft lurched as it settled onto the makeshift landing strip, the bay doors already opening before the wheels had fully stopped. I didn’t wait for the ramp. I jumped, boots hitting blood-slicked stone, and the moment my feet touched Ravenhold soil, the weight of the place pressed down on me.

This wasn’t the Golden District. This wasn’t politics and polite smiles and careful words.

This was the frontier. This was where the empire bled.

"Your Grace!" A captain I didn’t recognize sprinted toward me, his uniform torn, his face streaked with soot and dried blood. He skidded to a halt and saluted, chest heaving. "We received word of your arrival, but—"

"Where’s Anastasia?"

"Western rampart, Your Grace. She’s been holding the line there for three days straight. General Rerick is at the eastern gate. And General Edward..."

The captain’s voice cracked. "He never returned from the forest. We’ve lost contact with his entire unit."

I’d known that already. Hearing it aloud made it worse.

"Unload the supplies. Get the reinforcements to the ramparts." I was already moving, scanning the chaos for the western wall.

"Move fast. I need to get back in the air as soon as possible."

The captain straightened, awaiting orders. Around us, soldiers hurried to unload crates, their movements quick and efficient despite the chaos still ringing from the walls.

"For what, my lord?"

"I’ll draw their attention from above." I tilted my head toward the treeline, toward the distant ridge where the beasts were thickest. "While I’m baiting them, concentrate your fire on the clumps we attract. Use that window to clear space for the other airships. They need to get past the tree line and find Edward."

The captain’s eyes widened. Then something shifted in his expression, a spark catching behind the exhaustion.

"Use the duke as bait to concentrate fire," he repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. Then, quieter, almost to himself. "That’s... that’s brilliant."

I watched the realization settle over him. The way his shoulders straightened. The way his grip tightened on his rifle. The way he looked at me like I’d just handed him salvation instead of a simple tactical adjustment.

These people really did worship the ground Cassian walked on.

"Captain."

He blinked, snapping back to attention. A faint flush crept up his neck, embarrassment at being caught staring.

"We’ll get it done before a minute even passes, my lord!" He saluted, crisp and sharp. "You have my word."

"Good."