The morning was red with fury.
The survivors moved like shadows through the ruined city streets, led by Elena and Ethan. Alina followed, her steps heavy with pain and purpose. Aurora was safe for now—hidden far from the battlefield under tight guard—but the enemy still wanted her. The Reclaimer would not stop until he held her in his hands again.
Lyra rode in silence near the rear, eyes low. Every face she passed reminded her of what she had done. Some glared. Some turned away. But she kept moving. She wasn't running anymore.
A sharp whistle pierced the silence.
"Positions!" Elena shouted.
Explosions shattered the street as enemy soldiers poured from the buildings—masked, armored, merciless. The Reclaimer's voice echoed over a speaker, smooth and venomous:
"I only want what's mine. The child. Surrender her… and the rest of you may walk away."
"No deal!" Ethan growled, shooting at a drone.
Chaos erupted. Alina fought fiercely, fury in every move. But fear lingered—she couldn't let Aurora be taken again.
Suddenly, a squad closed in on her. She fell, cornered—until a shot rang out.
Lyra stood at the top of a stairwell, gun smoking. She leapt into the fray, protecting Alina like a lioness. "I won't lose her again," she shouted. "I made a mistake. I'm fixing it."
Alina stared at her, heart pounding. "Why now?"
Lyra's voice cracked. "Because I realized… blood is blood. And I love her. I love all of you."
Elena, watching from above, hesitated for only a moment—then threw a smoke bomb. "Fall back! We've got what we came for."
The survivors escaped into the mist, leaving wreckage behind. They had survived the first real assault. Barely.
Later that night, Alina held Aurora close, whispering to her. "You're the light in all this darkness. And we'll protect you… no matter what."
Outside the tent, Lyra kept watch—scared, scarred, but finally standing where she belonged.