The ground trembled under the walker's steps. Koshiro's hand tightened on his rod, eyes locked on the monstrous machine and the three Syndicate Ascendants marching beside it.
Zen's sword whispered free of its sheath.
"They're not waiting," he said.
"Neither are we."
Koshiro stepped forward first, striking his rod against the stone. A ripple of light surged outward, the air thickening with resonance. The nearby Thread hummed in response, resonating with a note of warning.
The walker screamed and charged.
Zen met the first Ascendant mid-air, blades clashing in a violent burst. Sparks danced as metal rang against infused armor. Koshiro, meanwhile, darted between the broken columns of the crater, using the terrain to confuse the walker's targeting. He struck again, the rod pulsing with the memory of sorrow.
The walker staggered.
But one Ascendant broke from Zen and aimed a device at Koshiro.
A beam of crimson energy surged toward him—too fast to dodge.
It struck.
Pain exploded across his chest. He collapsed, breath ripped from his lungs. The rod slipped from his grasp. The world dimmed—blurred—
And then light.
A second impact hit the Ascendant who'd fired, launching them into a pillar.
Solas stood where they'd been, his hand smoking from a reckless counter-Thread blast.
"Really," he said with a sigh, "Every time I leave you alone, you get zapped."
He knelt by Koshiro and placed a hand to his chest. Warmth surged back into Koshiro's lungs. His injuries sealed, but not without pain.
"Don't thank me," Solas added. "It's bad for my image."
Zen drove his sword through the final Ascendant as the walker reeled, then collapsed, its Thread core overloaded by Koshiro's earlier harmonics.
Smoke rose. Silence followed.
Solas stepped back, brushing dirt from his coat.
Koshiro sat up slowly, groaning. "You saved me."
"Don't sound so surprised."
Zen's blade hung loosely in his hand. "Why?"
Solas grinned. "Maybe I'm just sentimental."
Koshiro frowned. "We need to know whose side you're on."
Solas paced the battlefield, kicking a Syndicate weapon aside. "Sides are for simple stories, heroes, villains, clean lines. This world doesn't have those anymore, just broken people and burning threads."
Zen stepped between them. "Enough riddles. Either you help us, or stay out of the way."
Solas looked at Koshiro, then away. His voice, for once, was quiet.
"I help because someone once helped me when I didn't deserve it."
Koshiro stood. "Then help us again. We're going after the Crimson Fold."
Zen turned. "We are?"
Koshiro's eyes burned. "They did this, to the children, to the Thread. We can't let it continue."
Solas tilted his head. "That's not survival. That's justice."
Koshiro nodded. "Maybe it's both."
They looked to the east, where distant red banners marked Fold territory.
Zen cleaned his blade.
"Then we move."
Later that night, the fire burned low. Koshiro lay asleep near the edge of camp. Solas leaned against a half-buried statue, flipping a stone between his fingers. Zen sat by the fire, sharpening his blade in slow, practiced strokes.
"You know," Solas said, voice light, "storming the Fold isn't what I'd call a brilliant idea."
Zen didn't look up.
"Sure," Solas continued, "they're monsters. But so are most Syndicate branches. We're talking tactical suicide. You're chasing fire with a matchstick."
Zen scraped steel on stone.
Solas narrowed his eyes. "You're not even thinking straight. You're following him into a warzone over what? Dead children?"
Zen's hands stopped.
Carefully, he set the blade down.
"Yes."
Solas raised an eyebrow. "Wow. That's noble, and stupid. Do you really believe those kids were the first victims? Because they weren't, and they won't be the last."
Zen stood slowly, his frame casting a long shadow in the firelight.
"Say what you came to say, Solas."
Solas met his gaze, voice sharpening "Why him? Why follow Koshiro like he's the second coming of the gods? You're the one who sees through everyone else, But him? You follow like a dog."
Zen stepped closer, eyes cold. "Watch your words."
"Touchy," Solas muttered. "But seriously. What happened between you two? What did he do that made you so loyal?"
Zen didn't answer.
Solas held up his hands in mock surrender, "Fine, fine. No need to chop my head off. Look, I saved both your lives today. That's worth something, right?"
Zen didn't move.
"I'm calling in a small favor," Solas said with a grin "Two questions. You answer them, and we're even."
Zen stared at him for a long time, then gave a single nod.
Solas smirked "First question. Who were you before all this? Before swords, Threads, and rebellion."
Zen exhaled through his nose "A weapon."
Solas frowned "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that fits."
Solas sighed dramatically "Alright, Mr. Stoic. Question two. What's your real connection to Koshiro?"
Zen looked toward the sleeping boy.
"It started long ago," he said quietly "Back when neither of us were anything. Just shadows in cages."
Solas tilted his head "Cages?"
Zen knelt beside the fire and stared into it.
"There was a time when I was the one in charge of locking those cages. And he…"
He went silent for a beat.
"He was the one I didn't understand."
The fire crackled.
"Let me tell you a story," Zen said his voice low and heavy.
And then —