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Following Thea’s gaze to the blades, she shrugged. ‘We’ve been finishing off any wounded monsters on the grounds.’

‘Good.’ Thea tore her eyes away from the remnants of the Great Hall, her gaze instead drifting to where she and Wren had left Anya’s body. ‘We need to…’ She trailed off, suddenly unable to form the words.

Wilder’s hand found the small of her back, his sturdy presence offering a small measure of comfort. ‘Without being sure of the fortress’ structural stability, we’ve got no choice but to assemble in the open. Gather any commanders and people of influence left standing in the courtyard.’

As exhausted and bereft as everyone was, they did as he bid, putting the call out to the far reaches of the battlefield.

In a daze, Thea surveyed the familiar faces that convened in the dust and blood, amid the bodies and the ruins. Wilder, Talemir, Drue and Audra were already there, but Thea breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted Cal and Kipp. The Guardians were covered in cuts and scrapes and dirt, but seemed otherwise unharmed. She spied Farissa sitting on an upturned barrel, her head in her stained hands.

Adrienne and Esyllt staggered forth from the ruined building, both coated in dust and Furies knew what else, the weapons master leaning on Adrienne for support. Thea couldn’t see where he was wounded, but his face was contorted with pain.

‘We can’t find Osiris,’ Esyllt said. ‘The spineless coward must have run off after —’

‘We’ll find him,’ Audra cut him off. ‘He will answer for his crimes, one way or another.’

Panic rose in Thea’s throat as she scanned the limping women warriors, the handful of shadow-touched soldiers, and the group of midrealms folk who were scattered around the courtyard, all bearing signs of injury.

‘Where’s Wren?’ she demanded. ‘Where’s —’

‘She’s right here,’ Torj Elderbrock answered, striding into the courtyard with Wren a few steps behind him.

Thea stared at the Warsword for a moment, at the changes the battle had wrought upon him. Against the blood and dirt covering his powerful frame, his now-silver hair seemed more prominent, and the sea-deep blue of his eyes brimmed with an emotion Thea couldn’t pinpoint.

No one addressed the change in his appearance. They simply stared at the lightning-kissed Warsword in their midst, until Wren pushed past him, holding a bandage to her neck.

‘What happened to you?’ Thea asked, noting the blood staining the linen.

‘She got cocky with her lightning,’ Torj replied with a shake of his head. ‘Missed the reaper that was —’

‘That’s not what happened,’ Wren said. ‘I —’

A shout cut through Wren’s words, and everyone’s eyes snapped to where Dratos had fallen to his knees in the wreckage. There, he lifted Anya’s lifeless body to his chest with a broken cry.

Thea’s heart fractured all over again, watching the shadow-touched ranger cling to her dead sister. She made to move towards him, to comfort him, but Adrienne and Drue were already halfway there.

The Naarvians crouched at their friend’s side, but he shot to his feet, his wings flaring at his back. ‘I can’t do this —’ His voice cracked, and without another word, he launched himself skyward.

A heavy silence fell across the courtyard. Thea felt Anya’s absence keenly, like a piece of herself had been ripped away, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. She should be there with them. Though hard-won, the victory was just as much Anya’s as anyone else’s. Thea hated the injustice of it all.

Anguish and loss hung thick in the air, wrapping around those left standing like a shroud. All Thea wanted to do was find somewhere quiet to curl up in a ball, away from the heaviness of everyone else’s sorrow. But in the midst of the profound sadness, she felt a flicker of something else: lightning. Not her own, not Wren’s, but Anya’s, gifted to them, a power to strengthen their resolve. And that was exactly what they needed in that moment – resolve.

She took a deep breath and straightened, pushing her shoulders back as she surveyed the group. ‘There will come a time to mourn our dead,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘But there is work to be done here.’ Her eyes were tired and gritty, burning with unshed tears as they sought Kipp and Esyllt in the small crowd. ‘I take it there are practicalities that need to be carried out? Logistics of the aftermath of all this?’

Kipp nodded. ‘We need to assess the casualties, and categorise them: wounded, missing and dead…’ He faltered at the last word.

Esyllt took over. ‘With the fortress’ foundations in question, I suggest we set up a temporary infirmary in the training arena for those who need more extensive treatment. It’s not ideal, given its openness and its distance from here, but we don’t want anything collapsing on top of our wounded while we tend to them.’

A murmur of agreement followed.

‘We can burn our dead on the Plains of Orax, as is tradition,’ the weapons master continued. ‘When those things are done, we can look to the future. But for now… For now we do what we can.’

Completely numb, Thea helped carry the wounded to the training arena on stretchers until she was unsteady on her own feet. It wasn’t until a gentle hand guided her to a seat that she realised she’d stopped in her tracks and was staring into nothingness.

‘Let’s take a look at that head wound.’ Wilder’s voice brought her back from the darkness, as it always did.

‘It’s fine.’

‘I wasn’t asking,’ he said.