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The battleground fell into a tense quiet.

With eerie accuracy, the shadows creatures that emerged from the trees moved, their armor glinting sharply in the dim light. They did not hurry or pause. Every step felt deliberate and measured.

Thalia felt her heart race in her ears. These weren't merely bolsters. They were different. A worse thing.

Lorcan muttered curses to himself. "Who the hell are they?"

Rhea whispered, "They're not mercenaries," as she was already nocking an arrow as her keen eyes searched for any indication of loyalty. She couldn't find any.

The figures then moved forward, one of them. A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing dark iron armor that was well-maintained despite its use. A battle-scarred helmet partially obscured his face, but his voice echoed like distant thunder across the field.

"This battle is over." There was no menace in his statements. They made a statement.

Ryker stepped forward, his fingers gripping the hilt of his blade. "By whose order?"

As though delighted, the armored guy cocked his head slightly. "You already know the answer to that, I believe."

Thalia gave a quick exhale. Killian.

He still had forces lurking in the shadows despite everything. To what extent was he corrupt? From behind the scenes, how many threads had he been pulling?

She moved to stand next to Ryker, staring at him. With a calm voice, she said, "If this fight is over, why do you still stand in our way?"

From the man's throat came a faint laugh. "Because I have something to tell you."

Quiet.

Then, from the pouch at his hip, the man drew a little scroll, smeared with blood, and flung it to the ground between them.

Thalia remained still. Ryker didn't either.

Lorcan laughed. "You want us to act as messengers?"

The man remained still. "I assume you know where you belong."

Ryker's face grew serious. "Where is that, too?"

There was a little sneer on the man's lips as they curled under his helmet. “At the mercy of a king.”

Thalia barely resisted the impulse to chuckle. Rather, she moved forward and crouched to retrieve the scroll. There was no crest on the wax seal, only a nasty scratch that was more of an insult than a mark.

Her eyes scanned the message as she unfolded it.

Do you believe this to be a win? A mountain is not brought down by a brief change in wind direction. The throne is still mine. Take cover while you can.

No signature was present. He didn't require one.

Thalia's fist smashed the parchment. She stated bluntly, "Killian's rule is collapsing." "If he still had control, he wouldn't have sent this."

Unreadable, the armored man watched her. Then he paused and bowed his head. "After the dust settles, we'll see what's left."

Then, as quickly as they had arrived, he and his soldiers turned and left, vanishing into the treeline.

Silence for a beat.

Lorcan's breath came out sharply. "When they do that, I detest it."

Rhea let out a breath and dropped her bow. "We're being tested."

Ryker whispered, "Let them." "We've shown our strength already."

Thalia wasn't so certain, though. Yes, Killian's forces had stumbled, but they hadn't entirely dispersed. He was still in control. He continued to play his game.

She looked at the battlefield. It was eerily quiet where there had been chaos only moments before. The wounded wailed, the dying breathed their final breaths. As the survivors stood, ash-like dust settled around them.

From the ridge, then—

A horn.

They owned this one. A call for victory.

The cries of the last fighters reverberated throughout the country. Even the far-off shadows of Killian couldn't make out the fierce, uncompromising cry.

However, Thalia was wise enough not to take pride in it. Not quite yet.

She looked across at Ryker. "We must reorganize. Attend to the injured. Consider what remains.

He gave a nod, already taking charge. "Take the western flank, Lorcan. Protect the perimeter. I need scouts to sweep the treeline, Rhea. The first thing I want to know is if those jerks double back.

They moved instantly, yelling instructions to their own. There was a flurry of activity on the battlefield as bodies were collected and injured people were carried. A terrible yet essential activity.

Thalia was about to turn when she noticed a feeble cough.

She tensed up. Not far from where Bran had landed, the sound had originated from the ground.

She came cautiously and slowly.

Bran was sprawled, his breathing shallow, his tunic stained with blood. He was still alive. Seldom.

She leaned above him, and his eyes flitted open. His lips curved into a feeble, hurt smirk. "I take it you don't waste time?"

Thalia squatted next to him, her face unreadable. "You're going to die."

He continued to grin. "Not yet."

Her head was cocked. Then let me know. What is left of Killian?

Bran laughed, then coughed so hard that his lips were stained with blood. "You... you mean I'll just let that go?"

Thalia remained still. "You don't want to die for a man who never appreciated you, in my opinion."

Something flickered across his face. Uncertainty? Anger? Feeling sorry? She wasn't certain.

“He’s losing them,” he rasped, his voice just above a whisper.

Thalia's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Bran's breathing trembled. "The alphas—the ones he believed to be his." They are interrogating him. observing. Awaiting. As soon as they perceive weakness...

He coughed once more, more forcefully. His entire body trembled.

Thalia bent in. "What about Cassandra?"

Bran's crimson grin expanded. She was never his, I see.

Then he took one last breath and his body froze.

A long silence.

The silence was then broken by Rhea's voice. "Thalia!"

She made a sudden turn.

With a tight expression, Rhea stood at the brink of the ridge.

She called, "Scouts just returned." "Movement is occurring up north."

Thalia stood up. "Killian?"

Rhea gave a headshake. Not him. Not his men, either. A pause. It's a caravan. headed directly for us.

Ryker and Thalia looked at each other.

A caravan? Right now?

She inhaled. "How many?"

Three wagons, possibly four. Guards with guns, but no complete escort. Rhea's mouth pushed shut. "It appears to be a diplomatic representative."

There was an odd tension in the air.

Thalia's mind was racing. Diplomats were never dispatched to a battlefield unless they were absolutely necessary.

or hazardous.

She looked directly at Ryker. We encounter them at the brink. However, we don't enter blind.

He gave a nod. "I agree."

The battleground behind them dwindled as they advanced. The triumph was genuine yet brittle. Not a break, but a crack in Killian's rule. Not quite yet.

Something informed Thalia that the conflict was far from done as the caravan drew closer.

In fact—

It might have just started.