Eryn's breath came in ragged bursts, her chest rising and falling as though the air itself resisted her. She was supposed to be a support—a mage to shield, to heal—not this.
Yet today, she had brushed against death's claws more times than she could count.
More than once, she'd thought the horde would break them, that death had finally come to collect them.
Even as a support mage, meant to bolster others from behind, she had skirted death more times than she would like. Every claw that came too close, every stumble, every mistake had nearly ended her.
And when she had thought things couldn't become more complicated… he appeared.
Through smoke and falling ash, his figure emerged—long black coat snapping in the wind, twin pistols flashing in the dark. Red eyes burned through the haze, sharp and unyielding. The air seemed to bend around him, as if the world itself recoiled.
Her heart froze as one thought echoed in her mind: David. As she remembered, those red, piercing eyes haunted her.
It can't be. It shouldn't be.
Two years had passed since she last saw that face, in a city now designated as a dead zone. It was known that no one had survived there after the last evacuation team left, before the area was transformed into a death zone by the zombies—no one at all.
Logic screamed it was impossible as she had seen and heard about the devastation that had occurred firsthand, but the sight of those eyes, the ruthless precision of his gunfire, stripped away all doubt.
Thwip. A Rank-one's skull burst, gore spraying across cracked stone. Thwip. Another collapsed, its head ruined.
Eryn's thoughts spiraled. Relief flickered—he was alive—but dread smothered it almost instantly. The past clawed at her: what she and Jace had done, the choices in that city that should have buried them both. He was alive, and that meant her thin line of safety was gone.
Her gaze snapped to Jace. His face was bone-white, eyes wide, lips trembling as though he'd seen a ghost. Worse—he had no excuse.
Unlike her, whose reasons were fragile but existent, Jace's betrayal had been naked, unjustified. His terror was proof enough.
David's eyes cut across the battlefield, and for a heartbeat, they met hers. Fierce, piercing, inhuman—they looked through her, not at her. Cold and arrogant, as if she were a stranger, nothing more, nothing less. Her chest tightened. Then, without hesitation, he looked away, and the shots continued, rhythm unbroken.
She almost wished he would glare, curse, or at least acknowledge her presence. The emptiness felt much worse.
But before she could even feel more pain from his gaze, Mary's voice came through her comm, fragile with fear and terror, jagged with panic: "Guys, get out of there now!
I just dedicated another huge energy reading—equal to the Rook—and it's heading your way!"
Eryn's knees almost buckled. Another one? Her sword dipped, her mind whispering: This is it. Is this where we die? Around her, Kara's staff shook, Ethan's shield sagged, Philip's blade wavered. Even hardened veterans faltered at the news.
As even she had already begun to see no way out from this, even with David present, but as she looked at him once more with panic, she noticed.
David didn't stop. His movements never changed. Thwip. Another one fell. And she knew that he should have sensed the energy by now, but he was calm with no indication of panic. Which made her confused, as she was sure that even for him, two rooks would be too much to handle.
Then his calm sparked a bitter realization and a distant memory in her chest. That presence—Mary's reading—it might not be a Rook. It couldn't be.
A creature that never left David's side. That was always with him throughout. If he survived, then perhaps it would too.
How could she have forgotten? She almost laughed at her own foolishness.
In just a few minutes, she felt as if she had aged several more years.
She swallowed, forcing her voice steady. "Don't panic. That energy—it may not be an enemy."
Kara's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
Ethan grunted, voice raw, trembling. "Not an enemy? What else could it be?"
Philip's gaze cut sharply, blade half-raised. "Speak clearly, Eryn. What do you know?"
Mary's voice pressed through the comms, tense and demanding. "Explain, Eryn. Now."
Eryn said nothing at first, then she flicked a glance at Jace, his face still a portrait of disbelief and panic, as she knew: they were both damned if David wanted revenge, and they were sure that he did.
"It's… tied to him," she managed, nodding toward the stranger cutting down the horde. "It's Something else. Trust me."
Kara's staff sparked with disbelief. "Trust you? Eryn, we need something more than just trust right now."
Ethan growled, his shield scraping against the dirt. "You'd better be sure of what you're saying."
Philip's voice was cold and cutting. "You know him, don't you?"
She remained silent, offering no clarification to their statement. "All I can say is that you need to trust me on this," she said.
They each looked at each other with a helpless look on their face.
Kara's jaw clenched, mana still dancing across her staff. "Fine. But when this is over—if we live—you owe us answers."
The rest remained silent afterwards, as Kara decided they would listen, even if they didn't truly want to. At this moment, what could they do? Nothing. So, they all chose to take a leap of faith, a significant one.
The battlefield roared on—zombies collapsing in heaps, ash twisting through the smoke-thick air. Eryn's words had sparked a fragile ember of hope, though none could tell if it was false comfort or salvation. But beneath that faint light, another weight pressed hard upon them: Felix's battle with the other rank-three rook.
He had severed every channel of communication, burying himself wholly in the fight. No one knew how he fared. Not even Mary, as she had also been cut off. All they could do was hold the line—and pray he would emerge victorious.