The night did not erase itself.
It lingered.
Across the garden, small distortions trembled in place—subtle bends in the air where reality no longer fully trusted its own shape. Leaves drifted too slowly through them. Light fractured at the edges, refracting in ways that would never quite settle again.
These were not wounds time would heal.
They were reminders.
The garden floor was scattered with bodies.
Not fallen in formation.
Not posed by victory.
Just people—crushed, fragmented, spent.
Allium lay at the center of it, heat radiating off his unconscious form in dense, uneven waves that warped the air above him. His breathing was slow but present, each rise of his chest heavy, strained. Rose lay several meters away, her body twisted where she had been thrown, frost scorched into the stone beneath her. Her face was bruised, one side swelling badly, breath shallow but steady.
Thane lay near the treeline, pinned where he'd landed—a thick, splintered branch driven clean through his leg, anchoring him to the earth. Blood soaked the soil beneath him, dark and steady. He did not stir.
Unconscious.
All of them.
Jax moved through the wreckage alone.
Boots crunching softly over broken stone and snapped branches. He checked pulses. Breathing. Pupils. He kept moving—because stopping meant thinking, and thinking could wait.
A voice cut through his comms, sharp and frantic.
"Why isn't anyone answering me?!" Nina's voice cracked through the static. "Tell me you're alive—damn it!"
Jax lifted his hand to the mic.
"Nina," he said, keeping his voice level by force of will. "We're alive. But we need medical here fast. I'm pinging my location. Definitely three ICU beds—open and ready."
There was silence.
Just long enough for the weight of it to press in.
"I'll be there," Nina said, disbelief audible in the way she breathed. "As fast as I can. Hold tight."
Jax turned and dropped to one knee beside Cassidy.
She was sitting where she'd fallen, shoulders drawn inward, staring at her hands like they belonged to someone else. When she lifted them, her fingers shook.
"Cass," Jax said quietly. "Let me see."
She hesitated—then showed him.
Blistered skin. Raw and swollen. Fingers bent at painful angles, already darkening with bruises. Jax didn't flinch. He gently took her uninjured hand and guided it over the damaged one, anchoring her to the moment.
"Stay focused," he said. "I need you with me. Help me get everyone evaluated."
Cassidy swallowed and nodded.
She forced herself up and moved toward Weaver.
He was awake.
Barely.
Weaver sat slumped against a fractured section of wall, blood drying along his mouth and chin. His eyes struggled to focus, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Cassidy knelt in front of him.
"Weaver," she said firmly. "Look at me."
She flicked on a small light and swept it across his eyes. He winced, turning away.
"Weaver," she asked, "where are we?"
He frowned, confusion tightening his expression.
"…outside?" he guessed. "The hall?"
Cassidy didn't hesitate.
"Concussion," she said quietly. "Bad one. Weaver—don't fall asleep."
She glanced over her shoulder.
"He's got a serious concussion," she called to Jax. "I'm staying with him—watching for seizures. He can't go under."
Jax acknowledged without looking back.
He stopped beside Allium.
Heat rolled off him—dense, heavy, dangerous in its stillness. Jax hesitated, fear flickering sharp and instinctive.
A sleeping giant.
One who had nearly ended them all.
He pushed through it.
Carefully, he placed two fingers at Allium's neck. Another hand pressed lightly to his side.
"Deep cuts," Jax muttered. "Internal bleeding."
He exhaled slowly.
"…He's out. But alive."
Cassidy looked over.
Not angry.
Worried.
"He…" Her voice caught. She steadied it. "He nearly killed us."
Jax lowered himself onto the stone, sitting heavily.
There was a pause.
Not long—but full.
"…Yeah," he said at last. "But that wasn't him."
His eyes stayed on Allium.
"That was something horrible," Jax continued quietly. "Something evil wearing his power."
The garden shifted.
Branches rustled. Footsteps multiplied—dozens, then more. Shapes emerged from the treeline: paramedics and EMTs riding low-profile transport platforms. Instead of wheels, dozens of rapid, articulated legs adjusted to the terrain with every step, matching stone, soil, and root without slowing.
Stretchers unfolded from the backs—beds built not for comfort, but containment. Restraint systems. Stabilizers. Safeguards for bodies that might convulse or burn.
Medical teams swarmed the clearing.
Jax and Cassidy spoke quickly—injuries, priorities, risks. Orders were followed without question.
Thane was freed first. The branch was carefully cut away, his leg stabilized before he was moved.
Then Allium.
Then Rose.
Separate transports.
Separate rooms.
ICU.
Reserved for those whose bodies—or existence—might fail without constant intervention.
Cassidy and Weaver were taken to the main medical bay. Nina was already there when they arrived, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched deep into her face.
She examined Cassidy's hand carefully.
"Any feeling left in there?" Nina asked softly. "Second time this hand's been through hell."
She waited.
Cassidy didn't answer.
Her gaze stayed fixed on nothing.
Nina's expression softened. She placed a hand gently over Cassidy's good one.
"Cassidy," she said quietly. "Would you like to talk to someone? Someone to hear you?"
Cassidy shook her head once.
Nina nodded. She didn't push.
Weaver was conscious—but barely. The pain in his mouth was unbearable, every breath measured and careful.
Nina sent him straight into dental surgery.
She worked with meticulous care—cleaning each tooth, each root, saving what she could. One by one, she placed them back where they belonged.
"Bite down slowly," she instructed. "Just enough. Don't force it."
When it was done, Weaver was moved to recovery—jaw stabilized, consciousness monitored.
Nina didn't rest.
She went straight to ICU.
Elsewhere, behind reinforced glass and sealed doors, Jax waited.
An office.
Bare. Quiet.
He stood when the doors slid open.
Commander Dorian Hawk entered first, expression hard, eyes already cataloging damage.
Sable followed close behind.
They had just touched down.
The garden still remembered.
And now, so would command.