The storm was gone, but its sound lingered in the stones.
Smoke had thinned into pale threads curling above Fort Gairn's cracked walls.
No one called it Gairn anymore. The name had burned away with the banners.
Men worked through the morning light — tired, slow, but steady.
The clang of hammers and the creak of ropes filled the yard where blood had dried only a day ago.
Rhino dragged a broken wagon beam toward the gate. Stonehide pushed fallen slabs into place with its shoulder.
Feyra's blossoms drifted through the dust, faint light in the gray air.
Joran stood by the half-rebuilt forge, sleeves rolled, voice rough.
"Lift with it, not against it. Let the weight tell you where it wants to rest," he said, guiding three men as they heaved a gate-post upright.
"It's heavier than it looks," one of them grunted.
Joran gave a small snort. "That's how you know it's worth keeping. Anything light won't last through a single storm."
The beam slid home with a low crack, and Joran exhaled — not pride, just relief.
Across the yard, Brenn moved between squads, his staff tapping stone for rhythm instead of command.
"Keep the lines even," he said quietly. "You don't lift for yourself, you lift for the one next to you. If one man stops, the wall stops. Don't stop."
Mira passed him carrying a coil of rope and a box of nails, soot still streaking her arms.
"The new gate frame's ready," she said. "We can hang it before dark if the brace holds."
Brenn nodded. "Good. A fort without a gate isn't a fort, it's a cage waiting to close."
Two refugees hauling boards nearby whispered between themselves.
Eda said, "He talks like the place is breathing."
Tira answered softly, "Maybe it is. Doesn't feel dead anymore."
Rhino gave a proud snort, dragging another beam across the yard.
Marrek, watching, muttered, "Never thought I'd trust a beast to hold a wall over my head."
Kerr wiped sweat from his brow. "Then stand clear and let him finish it. He's got steadier legs than we do."
Rhino stamped once and hauled the beam into place.
The work stilled when Draven crossed the yard.
He didn't call for silence — it simply fell.
Even the beasts turned their heads.
Mira touched Brenn's arm. "They're waiting for him."
Draven said quietly, "I didn't ask them to."
Brenn replied, "You don't have to. They already chose who they're breathing with."
Draven stepped up on a block of broken stone. The air itself seemed to hold still.
"You've all seen chains break," he began, voice low but clear. "That's the easy part. Breaking's just noise. What matters is what stands after."
He looked over the scorched yard — the men, the beasts, the smoke.
"This place caged beasts and men alike. That's finished. Fort Gairn's gone. What we build here now — Fort Bloomring — won't bind anyone again."
He let the silence breathe, then added,
"You don't follow me. You follow the one beside you. The one who lifts when you fall, the one who holds when you can't.
If we breathe together, no chain will ever fit again."
He stepped down.
Brenn raised his staff and said only one word: "Breathe."
The line obeyed.
Three hundred chests — human and beast — drew in the same breath.
The forge-light shimmered, echoing off the stone like a pulse.
Joran wiped his brow and murmured, "That's it. The forgefire's alive again — didn't need a spark this time, just breath."
By noon the rhythm of work had replaced orders.
Men moved without shouting, beasts matched their pace.
Mira oversaw clearing near the inner wall, Feyra padding beside her, petals scattering across the ash.
"Teams two and three," she said, "take the broken wagons first. Pair beasts with each team — they'll steady the ground."
Brenn called after her, "Keep rhythm, not noise. They'll follow sound better than shouting."
At the gate, Ryl tightened her saddle straps.
"I'll take two north," she said. "If the Dominion's moving, we'll see the dust first."
"Stay near the ridge," Brenn replied. "No hero work."
Ryl smirked faintly. "Hero work's dead. I'll ride quiet." She kicked off into the road, vanishing into haze.
By the forge, Joran and two apprentices worked sheet metal for Bloomscript copies.
The younger one squinted. "Master, it's just iron. How can it hold words?"
Joran struck once, sparks rising. "Iron remembers. Every strike writes something, whether you see it or not."
The boy whispered, "Like the Codex?"
Joran shook his head. "The Codex listens. This answers back. That's the difference — this one's ours."
Night crept in slow. Fires glowed low along the walls.
A courier rode through the half-hung gate and found Brenn by the forge.
"Message from the east," he said. "Told me to burn it after you read."
Brenn held the sealed bark near the flame. Hidden runes bled silver.
He read aloud, voice flat. " 'The Dominion stirs. A new name marches from the east. Banners of the closed wolf.' "
Mira's head lifted sharply. "The closed wolf?"
Brenn's jaw tightened. "Kaelith Veynar. The Heartlands' blade. They've sent him."
Mira whispered, "Then this peace ends quick."
Brenn looked toward the gate. "Peace never lasts long for builders."
He found Draven watching the horizon where torches glimmered faintly.
"The Dominion moves," Brenn said. "You know that banner."
Draven nodded once. "The wolf's coming."
Brenn: "He'll bring numbers we can't match."
Draven: "Then we build faster."
Morning came clear and cold.
Smoke was gone. The walls stood patched with new stone.
Men lifted, beasts pulled, the forge hissed steady.
Mira stood on the rebuilt parapet beside Joran, watching workers below.
"It feels lighter today," she said.
Joran wiped soot from his hands. "Maybe we're just used to the weight."
Brenn passed below, counting softly. "Three hundred souls, eighteen beasts, one rhythm. That's enough to start again."
Draven's voice carried from the gate. "Then we start."
Zor's shadow crossed the courtyard once — wide, silent, crowned in faint thunderlight.
The Codex hovered beside Draven and wrote in the air before fading:
CODEX (stylized)
From ruin, the Covenant breathes.
The hammer fell again.
The sound ran through the fort like a heartbeat — slow, solid, alive.
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