The battlefield stank of blood and smoke.
Lucian lay half-crushed against broken stone, his cloak torn, blood pouring from his chest. His eyes were half shut, but still they glowed faint with that stubborn light of space. He coughed, tried to rise, and collapsed again.
Lucy's heart froze.
Her blade trembled in her one good hand, her other arm hanging useless, bones snapped. Her body shook with every breath. But none of that hurt as much as the sight of him. Her brother. Younger than her, weaker once, the one she had sworn to shield.
It was supposed to be her. Always her.
When their world had burned, when they had stumbled into chaos, she had sworn she would be his wall. His guard. But since the day he entered the Academy, everything had shifted. It was Lucian saving her. Lucian cutting through danger, Lucian dragging her back from the brink. He bore the weight that should have been hers.
Her chest tightened. Shame dug deeper than any wound.
