For a few seconds after the phoenix landed, nobody moved.
The massive Echo lowered its burning head over the landing platform, embers drifting from its long flame-like plumage while suffocating waves of heat rolled across the black stone. The floor beneath its talons had cracked from the impact, old frost turning into steam around it as the entire structure groaned under the weight.
Around them, soldiers stood with their weapons half-raised, some shielding their faces from the heat, others staring at the unconscious boys lying on the creature's back.
Below the fortress walls, the battle continued.
Nightmare Creatures shrieked from beyond the trenches, mounted weapons fired with deep, thunderous booms, and somewhere far below, something large enough to shake the walls slammed into the outer defenses before being met by a burst of violet fire.
People rushed toward them from every direction, and Eirwen noticed that none of them seemed surprised whatsoever. Some wore black and grey armour, while others had no armour at all, only thick coats and belts filled with tools. Of course, the majority wore whatever Memory they had, and those came in every shape and colour.
Two men climbed onto the phoenix's back, ignoring the heat, while a woman with a short silver bob raised one hand and formed a thin layer of blue light over Raijin and Eliot. The light spread across their bodies, sinking into bandages, bruises, cuts, and half-closed wounds.
Seraphiel, who had still been kneeling beside his brother, shifted slightly as if to block her, but stopped himself when he understood what she was doing. Even then, his pale eyes followed every movement of her hands with open distrust.
"Alive," the silver-haired woman said flatly as her gaze moved from one boy to the other. "One crushed arm, blood loss, and some internal damage from brute force. The other is mostly cuts, burns, and shock. Take them to the lower infirmary."
Two stretchers appeared almost instantly. Raijin was lifted first, and only after one of the men got electrocuted by touching the boy's skin did they adjust their grip on him, carefully holding only the parts where his skin was covered.
Eliot groaned when they moved him, his eyes fluttering open for a brief second before pain dragged a broken whimper from his throat. "Don't… touch the arm," he mumbled, though the words barely came out properly. The healer scoffed at the complaint and tightened the metallic brace around his arm, making Eliot's face twist. His eyes unfocused, and he sank back into the stretcher.
Seraphiel immediately stood up to follow them.
He managed one step before a hand caught the back of his collar and stopped him in place.
His white attire—which had somehow remained cleaner than it should have been—pulled tight around his throat as the orange-haired Saint held him back with one hand.
The garment looked pale and delicate among the dark walls of the fortress. It was made from smooth white fabric that reached down to his upper thighs, fitted closely around his torso but loose enough below the waist to allow him to move. A high collar rose around his neck, and thin silver threads ran along the sleeves, shoulders, and hem in elegant patterns.
"Not so fast," the Saint said casually. "The short one is alive and so is the giant, and both of them are being taken to people who actually know how to help them. You three can stand, breathe, and look annoyed, which means you're useful enough to help until this attack is dealt with."
Seraphiel's expression changed in a way that was small but impossible to miss. His calm did not shatter dramatically, nor did he suddenly shout or bare his teeth, because that was something he would most likely never do, but something cold and furious surfaced behind his eyes.
He reached up and tried to pry the Saint's fingers away from his collar, but the grip did not move even an inch.
The difference between them was almost embarrassing to watch. Outside the fortress, another wave of Nightmare Creatures crashed into the trench line, and the wall-mounted weapons answered with a series of blasts that made the landing platform tremble beneath their feet.
"They need me," Seraphiel said, his voice almost like a growl.
"They need a healer. You don't look like one." The Saint's tone was still light, but for once there was very little humour in it. "Stand beside them and stare if you want to feel better. Later. But in this place, anyone who can still move gets used."
Andromeda looked at Eirwen, then at the Saint, and then at Eirwen once again.
Eirwen's brow twitched. He crossed his arms, then immediately adjusted the motion before the sharp edges impaled his armpits.
He glanced toward the ramp where Raijin and Eliot were being carried away, then toward the wall, where another horn sounded over the screams below. "What exactly are we supposed to do?" he asked, his golden eyes narrowing. "We're not even Awakened yet. Maybe let us use the Gateway and become Awake—"
The Saint laughed before he could finish.
It was not a long laugh, and it did not sound as careless as his earlier ones. It was more like a short burst of disbelief. Several nearby soldiers glanced over, but none of them stopped working. "Gateway?" he repeated, wiping a little blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "You just got here, and you're already asking for the Gateway. That's adorable."
Eirwen stared at him, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Didn't I already tell you, boy?" the Saint continued, his tired grin returning for a moment. "It doesn't work like that over here."
Before Eirwen could answer, the Saint turned his head and shouted across the platform.
"Miro! Over here."
A short boy emerged from between two groups of soldiers carrying crates filled with what looked like Soul Shards toward the wall.
At first, Eirwen almost mistook him for another Sleeper because of his height and thin frame, but the way the nearby soldiers shifted aside for him to pass made him doubtful.
The boy had a completely bald head covered in tattoos from his scalp down to the sides of his neck. Some were clean black lines forming circular patterns around his temples, while others looked like tiny runes crawling over the back of his skull and disappearing beneath the collar of his sleeveless coat. His arms were tattooed as well, left bare despite the freezing air, and his expression was so serious that it looked almost ridiculous on someone his size.
The boy stopped in front of the Saint and gave a short nod. "Captain Orion."
'So that's his name,' Eirwen thought.
He glanced at the orange-haired Saint, then back at the short bald boy.
'It kind of fits him,' he shrugged inwardly, despite still being annoyed at his refusal to let him use a Gateway.
Orion gestured toward Eirwen, Andromeda, and Seraphiel with the hand that was not pressing against his side. "These three. Keep them away from the front unless the attack intensifies."
Miro's eyes moved over them, clearly unimpressed. "Then what exactly am I supposed to do with them?"
"Use them somewhere they're useful?" Orion's smile sharpened slightly. "And if they die, well, then at least we can skip the god-awful ceremonies!"
Miro stared at him for a moment, and so did Eirwen.
Andromeda blinked once before her face shifted into fear and panic once again.
The phoenix behind them let out a low rumbling sound as its massive body began to unravel into fire and light, the long burning feathers lifting from its back like embers dancing in the wind.
The air around the landing platform grew brighter for a moment, orange sparks drifting over black stone and wounded soldiers alike. Orion glanced toward the outer wall, where another series of explosions sent pale fire rising into the sky, then looked back at Miro with a tired sigh.
"Make it quick," he said. "This is probably going to get ugly. Also, where is the Lieutenant General? I have something important to report."
Miro answered immediately. "He, alongside the other Scouts and Hunters, is searching for the Tyrants controlling the horde."
Orion did not say anything for a while, simply staring into the distance. After a moment, he only nodded before disappearing.
One moment, Orion stood beside them, his orange hair drifting around his face, and the next, the air snapped inward where he had been. Several orange sparks scattered across the platform and vanished before they touched the ground.
Somewhere beyond the nearest tower, something exploded, followed by the screech of a Nightmare Creature being cut short.
The Echo also dissolved completely behind them. The entire creature came apart in a silent wave of orange light, leaving behind scorched stone.
The soldiers barely looked at it. Some had already returned to the wall. Others dragged crates, carried the wounded, or shouted orders across the landing platform. It was insane how focused they were.
Miro watched the spot where Orion had vanished for half a breath before turning back to them.
He clasped his hands behind his back and walked closer with a serious expression.
His gaze settled on Seraphiel first, taking in the white attire, pale hair, and his furrowed brows, which made him look cute instead of scary.
Then it moved to Andromeda, and finally, he examined Eirwen from head to toe, from his dirty blond hair and pale face to the iron-silver Steel Shroud covering his body. His eyes paused on the sharp edges around Eirwen's elbows and knees.
Miro let out a disappointed sigh.
"You're lucky no one is desperate enough to throw fresh Sleepers onto the front line yet," he said, his voice dry. "But we do need hands. The ballistas on the towers require a lot of Soul Shards. Carry what you're told to carry and don't touch what you're not told to touch."
He turned on his heel and started walking away from the landing platform without waiting for an answer.
For a second, Eirwen did not move. A vein on his forehead nearly popped, and another in his neck followed a moment later. After everything that had happened, his grand first duty was apparently to carry crates like some servant.
He inhaled slowly through his nose and reminded himself that this was temporary. That was all. Temporary humiliation and also temporary weakness. One day, when he was strong enough, nobody would dare to speak to him like this. Until then, he would watch, learn, steal whatever knowledge he could, and remember every single insult.
'You're just going to let them do that?' Leviathan murmured in his mind. 'The great Archon of Wrath and Mercy, reduced to a pack mule.'
Eirwen's eye twitched again, but he still followed. There was no point making a scene when he could barely scratch most of the people around him. Besides, carrying Soul Shards meant getting close to the ballistas, the soldiers, and the defenses. It would let him learn how this fortress functioned, what kind of people lived and fought here, and how they dealt with the Nightmare Creatures. The more he understood about his surroundings and the people around him, the better. Information was rarely useless.
'Shut up,' he thought, and Leviathan simply chuckled in response. *'Since when did you become a comedian?!' *
Andromeda walked after him without a word, her eyes constantly moving across the soldiers and everything around them.
Meanwhile, Seraphiel remained in place for a second, staring down the ramp where the healers had carried Raijin. Then a wave of screams rose from the battlefield below.
He turned and followed as well, his long white garment shifting behind him as Miro led the three Sleepers away from the landing platform and deeper into the fortress.
Below them, the war continued.