They didn't speak for a long time.
Ryliegh moved at a steady pace, Phoenix limping with an arm over his shoulders. The red knight's flamberge was strapped awkwardly to his back, bouncing with every uneven step. The forest remained silent — watching, but not yet moving.
When Phoenix finally broke the quiet, his voice was a rasp behind his helm.
"I thought they sent someone important."
"They sent someone expendable."
Phoenix let out a dry laugh. "Sounds like our command structure's still solid."
Ryliegh didn't reply.
Phoenix coughed. "So. Ray, was it?"
"No."
"I'm calling you Ray."
"I'm not answering to it."
"You just did."
Ryliegh glanced at him. "You always talk this much when half-dead?"
"Helps me forget I'm bleeding internally."
A beat of quiet passed.
Phoenix looked around as they passed the edge of the ruined clearing. "You see them? The big ones? Nine feet, horns, swords the size of plows?"
"I counted six."
"There were nine when they hit us." He exhaled. "Three must've followed the stragglers."
"You kill six by yourself?"
"No. Five. One of my brothers took the sixth down. Then bled out on top of him."
"You buried them?"
Phoenix was quiet.
Then: "No. There were too many. I burned who I could. The rest… I just watched rot."
Ryliegh didn't say anything.
Phoenix continued, quieter now. "I knew them all. The reds. You don't make it through the southern campaigns without learning how someone takes their tea. Or how they scream when they die."
"I don't take tea."
"Of course not. You're black knights. You probably drink boiled gravel and call it tradition."
Ryliegh shrugged. "We stopped naming traditions when they started killing us."
Phoenix shifted slightly under Ryliegh's arm, breath hitching. "Why'd you come alone?"
"Orders."
"No backup?"
"No point. No one expected survivors."
Phoenix nodded slowly. "But here I am."
"Unfortunate."
Phoenix snorted. "You sound disappointed."
"I was hoping for answers. All I got was a smartass with a limp."
"And a flamberge," Phoenix added, smiling faintly.
"You dragging that thing out of pride or delusion?"
"Both."
More silence.
Then, Phoenix asked quietly, "Do you think it matters? That I lived?"
Ryliegh kept walking.
After a moment, he answered.
"Yes."
Phoenix tilted his helmet slightly. "Why?"
"Because someone should remember. Even if it's someone who jokes too much."
Phoenix was quiet for a long time. Then, softly:
"I remember all of them."
Ryliegh didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
They walked on, the forest slowly swallowing the battlefield behind them — but for the first time in days, the path ahead of Phoenix didn't feel entirely empty.