Deen Daniels buttoned his woolen guardsman’s coat, silver and black. For now, it bore the mark of captain, but if he so chose, it could become that of major. General Wolf had privately offered him the position. There was just one problem. One little snag.

He didn’t deserve it.

“Looking sharp, Daniels,” Wilken said. “Keep taking it easy. I know that’s tough these days. Just do the best you can.”

“Thanks.”

Dr. Wilken was a bony man with a head not quite full of hair, white to match his wrinkled lab coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck and a pen poked out from a chest pocket. He had been Deen’s physician since he was a fresh recruit that didn’t know one end of a spear from the other.

The hospital, one of the Guard’s own, smelled almost sickly of cleaning supplies. The walls were a picturesque white, broken up by the gifted paintings and crafts of grateful children, posters and scrolls informing visitors of common illness-related mistakes like coughing into one’s hand, and wall-affixed dispensers for hand soap and tissues.

Deen rose from the softly-padded table he had been on and saluted his doctor. Wilken responded in kind, taking a seat at his desk. It was full of clutter, trinkets, and a photograph of the doctor smiling joyously next to three women, all different ages. The youngest was his granddaughter. Wilken’s son had died during the war. The old war, before all this.

Everyone in Ulciscor knew by now that war was returning. Mayor Ren hadn’t made an official announcement, but the movements of the Guard were telling to a people intimately familiar with the inner workings of a military. Rumor had spread fast, mostly from the Guard itself. A captain had disappeared. The Pines had become a battlefield. The Terra Daevan army was at Mirastelle’s doorstep. Each rumor sounded more absurd than the last, but it was all true. Other captains and lieutenants administered preparations. Some knew, some relied on the rumors, but they all felt what was ahead in days to come.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside. Lieutenant Seras was waiting for him beside the door. She saluted as he glanced her way.

Seras was a stout woman bearing Rixatoran features; dark skin and hair with sharp black eyebrows. She wore the guardswoman’s uniform and a face so stern that the spear poking out from her back would probably break on it. She was sweeter than she looked— unless she thought you were an idiot. He learned that the hard way when she was first assigned to him.

The here and now, Daniels, he told himself.

There were wrinkles around Seras’s onyx eyes that were not there before, and her full lips were pursed. He felt a little of that. A lot of that, actually. The here and now was not very pleasant.

“How are we looking, Seras?” he asked.

She gave her report, a summary of which guards under her and Arston’s command were injured and for how long. She and Arston were his only two lieutenants, so he didn’t have many men to begin with. The South Wall was historically understaffed. Recently, a number of soldiers had been transferred under his command, but it was hard to keep track of them all now.

“Nothing we can do about Timm,” he said. “It’s in Wilken’s hands. Him and the Flocks.” She nodded at that. “What of Svall’s team?”

Seras shook her head. He knew that today was their last chance at the search. Those men and women had become nothing more than names on paper, from missing to presumed dead.

“And Svall?”

“Svall’s condition is still the same as before.”

Svall, brave bastard that he was, had volunteered for one of the forest operations. He took his entire squad out to the Pines and returned two days later— alone— half-dead from dehydration and starvation, deliriously babbling about a vulture, black as night with eyes that shone like rubies. They couldn’t get him to say anything else. He was either silent with that empty soldier’s stare or repeating the moment of whatever had befallen his squad.

“We may have to send him off to Lumina’s mind doctors.” He exhaled. Another lost hand. “It’s already been a week.”

Seras nodded. “I’ll handle the arrangements.”

“Thank you for that, lieutenant. And everything else.”

She favored him with a smile. He saluted her and turned to go.

“There is one more thing,” Seras said. “About the boy you wanted to see today. His condition has changed. I spoke with a nurse in the hallway just a moment ago. What’s happened, is…”

Oh no. A setback.

His heart clenched. That poor kid. General Wolf probably felt it ten times as strongly as he did. Luke should never have been there. Filose was almost two weeks gone, and he would be unable to move for months to come. That was if the treatment went well. If Luke had a setback, then…

“What?” Deen said as she finished her sentence.

“It’s best that you see for yourself, captain.”

———

Luke sat upright in bed, watching feathery clouds drift along a bright blue sea through the parted curtains of the white-walled hospital room. It was a pleasing blue, far unlike the icy shade that raked his heart with dread and hate. Watching that sky, he could forget those troubles. No matter what happened, this sky would always be there for him.

He was surprised to not see any snow outside. Was it not the heart of winter by now? The nurse had— quite rudely— ducked out of the room to fetch a doctor as soon as he rose and asked her where he was.

Luke studied his palm and tried to will the colored light into being.

Nothing happened.

Figures, he thought. He had a feeling it wouldn’t have worked. There was something… missing. It was like… like he had a sixth sense, but not at the moment, as if he had closed his eyes and could not see.

A knock at the door gave him a moment to brace for the doctor. He suddenly became intensely aware of the gown he was wearing— and its exposed back— and grabbed his blanket, wrapping it around himself like a cloak. Instead, it was a familiar face, and a welcome one at that.

“Captain Daniels!” he said, eyebrows raised in surprise.

The tan-skinned man looked no worse for wear, brown hair cut short and face clean-shaven. He wore no armor at the moment, but his woolen silver and black guardsman’s uniform was buttoned to the neck and neat as could be, not a wrinkle in sight. A Rixatoran woman entered after Daniels, just as picturesque, if not more so. They were armed with a silvery spear each. The pair looked like the Guard’s ideal incarnate.

“Hey, Luke,” Daniels said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell off a cliff,” he said, rubbing at his ribs through the blanket. The area was tender, even after all this time. Great. Now he was stuck in here and awake for it.

“Luke,” he began. “I—”

Then the door swung open, smacking him from behind.

“Out of the way, Daniels,” said a bony man in a wrinkled lab coat. He pushed past the two of them and took Luke by the shoulders.

“Luke, right?” the doctor said. Daniels grumbled something behind him and shut the door after the nurse from earlier entered.

“Yes?”

“Lay back,” he demanded. Luke did so. “Who sat you up?”

“I did,” he said, blinking. The nurse scoffed, as if offended.

“Then sit forward. Slowly. Stop if it hurts.”

He sat forward, and could see the panic in the doctor’s eyes as he probably did it faster than expected.

“Well?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Luke said. “Well, not really. I mean, it hurts if I touch it, yeah…”

“Wilken, what’s this about?” Daniels asked.

“Shut up,” he said, irritably waving a hand. He was completely focused on Luke. After a few other tests, he finally said, “You’re five weeks along your six week recovery timetable.”

“And?”

“It hasn’t even been two.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” said the woman beside Daniels.

“More than good,” Wilken said, adjusting his lab coat. “It’s more than twice as fast as the fastest turnaround I’ve ever seen. I’m taking blood.” He stood and rifled through a cabinet, then glanced at the nurse. “Webb, IV the right. I’ll take the left.”

After a few minutes and an unpleasant needle to each arm, it seemed as though the chaos had finally died down. Wilken had spent the time explaining to Luke and the two guardsmen what a typical post-surgery timeline of multiple rib fractures was like, and the difference of how far along Luke’s recovery should be compared to where he actually was.

“Webb,” Dr. Wilken said. He eyed the little red vial as if it were made of solid gold. Almost reluctantly, he handed it off. “Get this to testing.”

The nurse nodded and left. The doctor collected the needle and other instruments into a container and saddled it under his arm.

“How soon do you think I can get out of here?” Luke asked, hopeful.

“No sooner than a week. We may have to keep you longer.” Wilken shook his head. “I’ve never seen something like this in all my life.”

A week? Luke frowned.

“It’s a lot better than a month,” the doctor whispered. “We’re gonna run a test tomorrow morning. Best stay in bed for now. No needles next time. Sound good?”

“I’m not a kid,” he muttered. “I don’t care about needles.”

“True. Didn’t even flinch.” Wilken smiled and gently clapped him on the shoulder, then made for the door. He stopped to face the captain. “Sorry for the delay, captain. Be about your business.”

“Not a problem,” Daniels said. The doctor quickly offered a half-salute and left the room. The captain’s sociable smile melted away as soon as the man left, replaced by a heavy, sorrowful expression. “Luke, I’m sorry.”

“It’s al… what?” He blinked. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I failed to keep you safe.”

“I wasn’t very accomodating.”

“It doesn’t matter. The result is the same.”

That was surprising. He had never met anybody so… so righteous before. Other than the old man, perhaps. But if he were here, he’d be laying into Luke so hard that he’d have to stay the full six weeks just from the sheer force of geriatric complaining.

“Are you kidding? I would have died if you hadn’t shown up when you did! That Dux guy meant business!”

Daniels hesitated. The woman simply raised her eyebrows at the mention of the name ‘Dux.’ Luke still wasn’t entirely sure who it was that he had fought, only that this ‘Dux’ could use the light.

“Who was he, anyway?” Luke asked. “Dux.”

“Duxille Sirius,” the woman said. She folded her arms. “A nobleman. Well, former nobleman. He’s the Seventh Elite’s older brother.”

“And you are?”

“You may address me as Lieutenant Seras.”

“Is just ‘Seras’ fine?”

“No. Not if you want to pursue a path in the Guard as I’ve been told.”

He nodded. “Okay, Lieutenant Seras.” He would need the Guard’s help to get close to Levian Vega and Mammon Rigel. She nodded back, smiling to herself for some reason.

“You really want to join the Guard?” Daniels asked. “Even after this? Knowing what’s happening?”

“Yeah,” he said immediately. I have to confront him. “What have I missed, anyway? Did they attack?”

“Not yet. Not exactly. Mostly, we’re setting up bunkers and putting sections of the city through evacuation drills. I think they’ve figured out they’re not just drills, though.” Daniels bit his lip. “Listen, Luke. I think your friend is gone. The captain and lieutenant who were escorting him to Castitas… well, we found their bodies. The situation has been escalating from there.”

The memory of parting with Cyrus at the fountain was still fresh. He thought he had finally made another friend for the first time in years, but it seemed it just wasn’t meant to be.

“And his?” Luke asked. “You found his body as well?”

“No.” Daniels shook his head. “It’s possible he was taken to the place the others from his village are being kept. We don’t know where that is, though. We can’t get close to the village. Wolf had been trying. We lost other soldiers trying to find a way in. In the last few days though, General Wolf has started to call off all search and rescue operations. Our last one is today. We weren’t making any progress, and their main forces could strike any day now.”

“It’s cruel to say,” Seras added, “but there were less than two hundred people living in Castitas. There’s over a thousand times that inside these Walls. And nothing else stands between Terra Daeva and Lumina. The city can’t fall, or Amon wins.”

Daniels looked at her and nodded gravely.

“I see,” Luke said. Nothing he could do about it. “It makes sense.”

Seras nudged Daniels in the shoulder. “We’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. After your tests.” She nudged him again. “Oh, right. Here.”

Captain Daniels strode toward Luke’s bed and proffered a tiny envelope. On the front was Luke’s name. It had been written by a typewriter. That was it. No return address; nothing identifiable.

“This arrived about a week ago by messenger dove,” Daniels said. “No idea who it’s from.”

“Probably my grandfather,” he said, accepting it. That was strange. Old man Snare was more into handwritten notes, though he had been complaining about cramps recently. Normally, he wouldn’t be the first to talk after one of their classic huge arguments. He would expect Luke to apologize and make things right. Maybe he had heard about the invasion back home and was worried. That was also like him. He never wanted Luke to come here in the first place because it could be dangerous. It was annoying how right the old man could be sometimes.

“That’s good,” Daniels said. “Just ask any nurse and they’ll get a reply sent out. Don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t. Thanks.”

As soon as the pair were out the door, Luke realized he hadn’t said a single word about Dux’s strange light. His feelings were mixed on the matter. He was keeping information from the Guard, but he had put a thunderflute in Vander Wolf’s hands. Maybe he could phrase it in a way that didn’t involve himself? He didn’t want anyone to know he could use it too, at least not until he had a solid grasp of what it was.

They wouldn’t believe me, anyway. What am I going to tell them? That the Seventh Elite’s brother can use magic to punch really hard or something? No. That sounds ridiculous. I won’t say anything yet. Not until I can prove it.

He flexed his hand and reached out with his mind. Still nothing.

Luke’s stomach growled. He hoped one of those nurses checked on him soon. He set the letter on a bedside table and settled back down, watching the clouds. No need to rush into one of Snare’s scathing rants. He could read the clipped thing whenever he wanted. Not like the letter was going anywhere. He’d read it later.