BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

"What in the hells is happening up there?"

Edward winced, forcing himself to stand as the concentrated barrage of gunfire thundered above them. Dust and loose pebbles rained down through the gaps in their makeshift cover.

"Did they find our location?!" another knight asked, his voice tight with a mix of fear and hope.

"They worked faster than I thought."

Edward laughed, a short, pained sound, but he didn’t move to leave the crater just yet. He raised a hand, signaling the rest of the men to hold. For all they knew, the chaos above could have been a coincidence. A distraction. Or a trap.

But they didn’t have to wait long.

"General Edward!" A voice echoed from beyond the rubble, muffled but unmistakably human. "We’re at the entrance! The duke’s currently distracting the magical beasts, we need to get out, now!"

The words barely finished before Edward’s men moved. No orders were needed. Hands that had been too tired to lift their swords moments ago now found the strength to tear away rocks and dirt, blasting through the makeshift cover with a desperate, ragged energy.

Light flooded in. Fresh air. And beyond it, the silhouettes of rescue crews waiting with stretchers and rifles.

"Took you long enough," one knight rasped, his head wrapped in bandages until only a single eye remained visible. Despite everything, the blood, the pain, the exhaustion, he was grinning.

Edward braced himself against the crater wall and climbed toward the light, his hand still pressed to the gash in his side. The rescue aircraft’s rotors beat overhead, drowning out the distant snarls of the retreating horde.

He looked up at the sky, toward where he knew Cassian’s ship was circling.

"You came," Edward murmured to himself, something he rarely did. "And here I thought I was just spouting out false hope."

Edward’s boots hit the aircraft floor, and the moment they did, the medic was on him. Hands pressing against his side, checking his pulse, shining a light into his eyes. Edward let them work, too tired to protest, too relieved to care.

"General, you’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get you stable before—"

"Not yet." Edward’s voice was hoarse, but firm. He pushed the medic’s hands away, just enough to sit up straighter. "The duke. Where is he?"

The rescue crew exchanged glances. The lead officer, a lieutenant with a scarred jaw, stepped forward.

"Your Grace is still in the air, sir. He’s acting as bait. Drawing the horde’s attention away from the walls while we extracted you and your men."

Edward’s jaw tightened.

Bait.

Of course that’s what Cassian had chosen to do. The same man who had built this capital from nothing, who had held the line for years, who had never once asked his soldiers to do something he wouldn’t do himself.

Whether it was strategy or compassion, Edward couldn’t say. But if he had to guess, he’d put his money on the former, and he didn’t mind that one bit.

"How long?"

"Forty minutes, sir. Maybe longer. The other aircraft are still up there with him."

Edward closed his eyes.

Forty minutes of circling over the treeline, forty minutes of drawing the attention of every beast within miles, forty minutes of trusting that the guns on the ramparts would keep anything from getting too close.

"Get me to the command post," he said, opening his eyes. "Now."

The medic started to protest, but one look from Edward silenced him.

The aircraft banked sharply, angling back toward Ravenhold. Below, the horde was still scattered, still disorganized, still recovering from the concentrated fire that had torn through their ranks. But they were regrouping.

Edward could see it in the way they moved, the way the stragglers were pulling back toward the treeline, the way the larger beasts were herding the smaller ones into formation.

Someone was coordinating them.

"Faster," Edward said.

The pilot didn’t argue.

The aircraft touched down on the rampart, and Edward was moving before the wheels had fully stopped. He ignored the medic’s shouted warnings, ignored the way his side screamed with every step, ignored the blood that was already soaking through the fresh bandages.

Anastasia was waiting for him at the command post, her crimson eyes widening slightly when she saw the state he was in.

"You look terrible."

"I feel worse." Edward braced himself against the railing, looking up at the sky. The duke’s aircraft was still circling, still drawing the horde’s attention, still buying them time. "Status report."

"The B-Class and A-Class beasts you engaged have retreated. And the duke... he’s been up there for almost an hour."

"An hour...?"

"I don’t know, general, as far as I know, he seems to be enjoying it..."

***

"I wonder how many we’ve killed already," I said, struggling to keep the smile off my face.

Maybe it was strange, but as someone who appreciated numbers and efficiency, watching a strategy this effective unfold was almost addictive. The steady climb of the count, the clean symmetry of the kill zone, it scratched something deep in my brain.

"Probably a whole city’s worth by now," Reina replied.

"Your Grace." The pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom. "Are we not landing yet?"

"No. Keep going until we’re on fumes. Every extra minute we stay up here is another minute they get to rest, and another minute they have a target worth aiming at."

"Roger that, Your Grace."

The aircraft banked again, slower this time, the fuel gauge creeping toward empty. Below, the horde had thinned to scattered clusters, their frenzied surge broken by hours of concentrated fire.

The beasts still prowled the tree line, still watched the shadow of the aircraft with hungry eyes, but they no longer threw themselves at the walls with mindless abandon.

They were learning.

Somewhat...

"We should land soon." Reina’s voice was quiet. "You’re pushing it."

"We can push a little more."

"Cassian!"

The way she said my name made me look at her. Her violet eyes were serious, the playful edge she’d worn earlier completely gone.

"You’re bleeding."

I looked down. A thin line of red had seeped through my coat sleeve, a cut I hadn’t even noticed. From where? The bay door? A stray piece of debris? I couldn’t remember.

"It’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing!"

She stepped closer.

"You’ve been standing in an open bay for over an hour, breathing in smoke that I’m sure can’t be healthy, and you have a wound from a stray bullet you didn’t even notice!"

I looked past her, at the tree line, at the scattered beasts, at the walls of Ravenhold, finally having a small break from the constant wave.

She was right. Maybe I really was starting to overdo it. By now, the number of beasts lingering in the aircraft’s shadows had dwindled to fewer than a dozen.

Continuing would only waste fuel.

"You’re right," I said. "Tell the pilot to take us down."

Reina’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. She turned to relay the order, and I watched the tension drain from her frame.

"Good thing I came with you, or you probably would have gotten yourself killed."