A mouth of heat closed around him.
Solis dreamt of being swallowed by a dragon like creature: not a beast of scales and teeth but an enormous mouth of shadow and flame, ribs like archways of a ruined temple. The throat was long and impossible; breath like storms rolled past him. He fell and fell, trying to reach the light at the far end, but every step only wound him deeper into the hollow. A voice — somewhere between a whisper and a roar — said, You were promised a blade. Promise kept. Now take your place. Then the dragon's maw closed.
He gasped out.
Air flooded his lungs like a small, astonished gift. His eyes flew open to white light — not the blistering light of the bastille corridor where he'd last seen Razille, but soft, domestic light thinly filtered through a curtain. The smell of herbs and boiled broth reached him; Elizabeth's presence was there like a seam of constancy.
"Huh — what? Where am I?" His voice was a raw thing that surprised him by being a voice at all.
Elizabeth's face hovered above him, lined but fierce, the old nurse's glasses catching the light. "Thank Eloin," she said simply, as though that solved everything. "You're awake. Finally. I thought I'd see you go still and I would have cursed the stars for good measure."
Solis sat up too fast. The world swam. His arms felt like rope. He glanced down and found bandages and the medallion Tedric had made folded into his palm like a relic.
"You're in Mailie. In my infirmary." Elizabeth said. "You were brought here by a Postknight rookie. Belladonna's trainees helped him along. The scroll had you wrapped and sleeping like a child on a winter day." She hesitated, choosing her words like a nurse draws clean water. "You've been out a long time."
"How long?" Solis asked. He felt as if the last half-conscious hour had stretched into gut-wrenching centuries.
Elizabeth folded her hands. "Three... months." she said. "Three months and a little more of patients and prayers."
Solis let the number drop into him like a stone finding the bottom of a well. Three months. Three months since Harrowgate, since Razille took the sword. The memory came like a cliff: Razille's face; the hand of shadow; the blade tearing free.
"Kreg," he managed, the name an ash in his mouth. "Kreg… He—"
Elizabeth's mouth thinned into a line. "They say he's back," she said. "Word travels slowly and cruel. When you were found, the messengers were saying the worst." Her hands — small, steady — touched his forehead as if still checking for fever. "Kreg returned, child. The Obsidian Reliquary was broken. The Blacknight Dragon Sword… and your... sword were both turned toward the kingdom. But don't worry, Captain Jannick is leading Postknights to defend this town while Commander Cassandra with other A rankers are in Caldemount, defending the royals."
Solis tried to stand. The room spun. "Jannick… he's the one who judged my C-rank?" The memory came back oddly brittle: the black-hooded man at the exam boards, a judge who had cut his answers like a blade.
Elizabeth nodded. "Aye. The one who sat in our exam hal l— counsel and judge. I remember him. He had a voice like a lecture, a presence like a seal. He is quite a reputated knight. He will surely keep us safe... for now." She inhaled. "We were fools to think the past cannot hide a thing."
"But I don't get it. Isn't Kreg the one who was defeated by Legendary Postknight Cassius? How is he back? We were taught that Dark Knight will never come back."
"Well, to be honest. That's not entirely true. After his defeat to Sir Cassius, he was sealed because his soul was connected with the Blacknight Dragon Sword. So killing him was impossible. That's why he got sealed so that he can't cause any threat." Elizabeth said, "But now he is free. And he did not take long. He declared war. He used those dark riders to sweep the lowlands first and then moved inward. The Kingdom folded faster than anyone thought it would." Her voice softened. "By now, much of Prism is under him. Caldemount survives because of the Upper Ring — the nobles and the fortified districts. People say commanders and A-rankers hold there. The mountain borough Epac — Aldor's suburb — is still a refuge. Mailie… Mailie held because Captain Jannick would not be driven by fear, and Selvine… she's been a wall. But the rest—" She let the sentence hang like a mourning bell.
Solis pressed his palms flat on the bed, the edges of the mattress pressing into his wrists. A thousand tiny ropes tugged at his insides: guilt, confusion, anger. If Kreg had used the swords to free himself and now spread across the kingdom, then Razille's hand had been the match. He had stood in the corridor when she took the blade. He had felt it slip from him. The image of the Blazing Dragon Sword in Razille's hands, of her passing it to Kreg like a sacrament, made his vision swim.