The sun rose slowly over Base One, its light spilling across the walls like liquid gold.
The sounds of last night's celebration had long faded. No drums. No laughter. Only the low hum of soldiers changing shifts, the clang of armor, and the caw of crows circling above the courtyard.
The wedding garlands still hung, but their bright colors already looked tired in the daylight. A few petals had fallen, scattered across the stone floors where boots now crushed them underfoot.
The war hadn't paused. It never did.
Aamir stood at the balcony of his chamber, arms folded. His crimson cloak fluttered faintly in the morning breeze.
He watched the soldiers drill in the square below, their blades flashing in the sun. Their faces were hardened, focused. Last night they had danced. Today, they trained again.
His jaw tightened. "No matter how much joy we create, this war doesn't let us keep it."
Behind him, the door creaked open.
