The old road wound like a scar through the forest — jagged, cracked, and overgrown. The remains of logging carts lay rusted on either side, half-swallowed by time. Ryliegh stayed ahead, sword in hand, every step measured.
Phoenix followed.
Barely.
Each breath sounded like gravel in a steel drum. His gait had gone from limping to staggering. The blood beneath his chestplate had dried hours ago, but it crusted with every movement. He clutched his side as though holding himself together.
Ryliegh glanced back.
"You're slowing."
"Breaking records," Phoenix muttered, though his voice was fraying.
"Your breathing's off."
"Breathing's optional."
"It's not."
Ryliegh stopped.
Phoenix took two more steps before collapsing to one knee. His flamberge clattered beside him. He didn't try to rise.
Ryliegh moved fast — shield dropped, sword sheathed. He was at Phoenix's side in seconds.
"Stay awake."
"Trying." Phoenix's voice was paper-thin. "Chest's on fire. Legs are done. Vision's a polite suggestion."
"You're done moving," Ryliegh said.
Phoenix chuckled weakly. "Told you that three miles ago."
Ryliegh looked up — scanning the trees. Listening.
Then he heard it.
Movement.
Not the slinking shuffle of beasts.
Footfalls.
Human.
Four figures approached from the north trail — armored in green, helms dented, weapons out. Two walked steady. Two limped, one favoring an arm slung in a makeshift brace, the other dragging a shattered leg splinted with spear shafts.
Ryliegh stood immediately between them and Phoenix.
The lead green knight raised a hand. "Sir Ryliegh Fieldweaver?"
Ryliegh didn't relax. "Who's asking?"
"Knight-Lieutenant Vale. We were tracking the red company's trail. Got cut off. Two wounded. No flares. Low food."
His eyes shifted to Phoenix.
"You found one."
"Found the last one," Ryliegh said.
The green knights exchanged glances.
The one with the broken leg muttered, "Didn't think anyone survived that slaughter."
Phoenix coughed behind Ryliegh, voice weak but dry. "Good. I like to disappoint."
Vale took a slow step forward. "We can help him. We have supplies. Some medicine. Shelter's half a mile east — collapsed tower. Temporary base."
Ryliegh looked down at Phoenix. The red knight was slumped, visor still closed, breath rasping under the helm.
He was strong. But not unbreakable.
Ryliegh turned back to the green knights. "If you slow us down—"
Vale nodded. "We won't."
"If you touch him without need—"
"We won't."
Ryliegh gave a sharp nod.
"Then take his other side. And don't fall behind."
The greens moved quickly, two stepping up to help. One held Phoenix's right side, the other retrieved the flamberge with reverence.
As they began to move again, Phoenix whispered just loud enough for Ryliegh to hear:
"…Ray."
"What?"
"I like you better when you're being a bastard."
"Then you're about to love me."
They walked into the trees together — six knights, battered but alive.
And for the first time since entering the Darkzone, Phoenix didn't feel like he was dying alone.