In the lands of Leora, people ran around Castle Leora like ants whose nest had been kicked over. Panicked men and women rushed through the courtyards, ushering crying children along as they shouted at each other. Fear and anger hung thick in the air.

  “Pillar Moore!” Tricia Leora shouted. “Make sure everyone from the surrounding villages is inside the castle walls by nightfall. Once the gates close, they do not reopen. You—and you there! I don't care how old the weapons are. Bring them all here. Anyone who can hold a weapon will need one!”

  “Yes, my Lady,” Pillar Moore answered, already running.

  Dashing from one end of the castle grounds to the next, Tricia continued to bark orders, her voice hoarse, her face gaunt and haggard. She was exhausted, her temper stretched so thin that she snapped at anyone who took more than a second to answer her.

  Everyone is taking so long to do anything, she hissed to herself, snatching a fallen banner and shoving it into the arms of a boy wearing armor that was far too large for him.

  “Sister, please—you must rest,” Edium, her sister, pleaded with her as she ran to keep up. “Ever since Yansen brought news of Father, you haven’t stopped. You haven't even taken the time to mourn for Father and Karl. Let Graves take over. He served with Grandfather for years. You can’t keep going. You need to eat. You need to sleep.”

  “Graves can barely get out of bed,” Tricia snapped, her eyes scanning the chaos around them. She rushed over to a boy struggling to lift a heavy wooden plank onto a cart. “The last time he held a spear was when you were just born. I promised him I’d let him fight. I won’t let him collapse before the battle even begins.”

  “Someone else then!” Edium insisted, grabbing the other end of the plank to help.

  “There is no one else!” Tricia angrily grunted as she shoved the plank on top of a pile on the cart. “That’s the last one. Take it to the soldiers by the gate. They’ll know what to do.”

  “Yes, Lady Tricia,” the boy said, hurrying to the horse hitched to the front of the cart.

  Tricia turned to Edium, her jaw tight. “I will not allow our House to fall.”

  Flashes of Castle Leora burning flickered across her mind.

  Before her sister could respond, Tricia strode towards a woman who was teaching a group of young boys how to hold a spear.

  The boys were young. Most of them looked to be children from the surrounding villages. All of them looked terrified.

  “Soldier, how many soldiers do we have?” she asked, her mind racing as she tried to remember the woman’s name.

  I think her name’s Winnie. Daughter of a Pillar. Not a soldier, but her father should have taught her how to defend herself. He was with Father… and never came back.

  Holding her spear at attention, Winnie saluted before answering. “My Lady, the number of soldiers that survived the ambush is less than forty. Even if we arm the elderly and the young, we’ll have no more than three hundred and fifty able bodies. If the survivors are correct, Lord Bovera and Para have a combined force of over five hundred.”

  She hesitated, then spoke carefully. “My Lady, I suggest you and Lady Edium take our most trusted warriors and flee to the capital. As long as you survive, House Leora can rise again.”

  “I will not leave!” Tricia barked, raising her voice so everyone around her could hear. “I am the daughter of Lord Drake Leora! I will not abandon my House. If Leora falls, I will die on the battlefield— like my father!”

  “Tricia, please!” Edium cried, tears welling up in her eyes. “Listen to her. Dying for nothing is not honor. Please, we must go!”

  Seeing her sister’s tears, Tricia felt her heart squeeze painfully.

  Father, give me strength.

  “Edium,” she said, mustering up her courage, “we are the daughters of Leora. We do not run from battle. In our family's history, there has never been a time when we have surrendered. I will not be the first.”

  She softened her voice, looking at her sister. “But I won’t risk you. I’ll have some of the younger soldiers escort you to the capital.”

  Turning back to Winnie, she ordered, her hands clenched at her sides. “Soldier, make sure everyone is armed, the old, the young, the men, the women, even the children. We will fight Bovera and Para to the end. By the time they take our lands, there would be nothing left but the dead.”

  Murmurs and nods of agreement came from the people who had stopped to listen to her when she had raised her voice.

  Hearing the iron resolve in her sister's voice, Edium took a step back in loss, knowing she could not change her sister’s mind.

  “If you are going to stay,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “then I’ll stay with you.”

  “Our ancestors would be proud,” Tricia replied, pulling Edium into a tight hug. “And so am I.”

  She released her sister and turned sharply. She needed to rouse the soldiers. If even her sister was like this, everyone else would be worse.

  “Soldier,” she said to Winnie. “My sister and I will don our armor. Gather everyone in the courtyard.”

  “Yes, my Lady!”

  Holding Edium’s hand, Tricia made her way inside to the family armory. As they walked, they passed by rows of empty weapon racks, stripped bare by the soldiers. “We need to make more spears and arrows,” she noted, stopping in front of their armor.

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  Both sets of armor were fully practical, with no excessive engravings or patterns. Only their House emblem, a lion, was carved onto each breastplate.

  “This is the first time I’ll wear it since Father gifted it to me,” Edium said timidly, tracing her finger over the Lion on her breastplate, leaving long finger streaks in the dust.

  “Don't worry, I’ll help you wear it,” Tricia replied, lifting the breastplate and blowing away the dust.

  Putting on the armor took far longer than Tricia had expected, both of them struggling to remember what to wear first and where the straps were. Eventually, they agreed to forgo everything but the padded gambeson and breastplate. They were wearing the armor more as a symbol than for real combat at the moment.

  When the last strap was clumsily tightened, she stepped back and nodded in satisfaction. “Not perfect, but good. Now help me with mine.”

  “It should be faster this time,” Edium said, attempting a smile. “At least now we know what not to do.”

  “That’s true.”

  Edium worked quickly, her delicate fingers skillfully tying the straps. It took less than half the time, but her shoulders ached painfully.

  I’m only wearing padding and a breastplate, and it already feels unbearable, she thought. How do people fight in this?

  Tightening the final strap, she tapped her Tricia’s shoulder. “I’m finished.”

  “Good. Come—let’s go to that mirror.”

  Following her sister to an old dusty mirror standing in the corner of the room, Edium observed herself. Her face was flushed but pale underneath.

  “I feel like a fraud,” she admitted, looking at her thin limbs poking out from her breastplate. “I look like a snowman with twig arms.”

  “You don’t look like a snowman,” Tricia said, studying her own reflection.

  Tricia stood tall, her athletic body filling her armor perfectly, almost as if she were born to wear it. Looking at her sister in the mirror, Edium knew Tricia felt strong and confident in her armor—a far contrast from her.

  “My Lady,” a guard said, hurrying in, his cloak damp from the miserable drizzle that had begun again. “Everyone is assembled. They’re waiting for you.”

  “Thank you,” Tricia spoke up, gesturing at Edium. “Edium, let’s go. Our people are waiting.”

  Nodding self-consciously, Edium followed her sister out, the uncomfortable armor she was encased in restricting her chest. Each step felt heavy, the metal and padding weighing down on her.

  Outside, Edium looked up at the darkened sky. The drizzle made the very air feel thick and oppressive. Pulling her cloak tighter to stay dry, she inhaled the damp air.

  “Tricia,” she called out nervously as her sister started to make her way through the crowd. “What are you doing?”

  “I need them to understand what’s happening,” Tricia called back, vanishing into the crowd.

  Making her way through the crowd, Tricia climbed to the top of a small staircase. She turned to face the crowd and spread her arms out wide.

  Father, give me strength.

  “People of Leora,” she shouted, her strong voice cutting through the noise and causing a hushed silence. “As part of House Leora, we have long lived on this land. We have defended it from invaders, endured famines, and thrived on its wealth. This is the land where the souls of our ancestors and loved ones rest.”

  A murmur of agreement rumbled from the crowd as heads nodded.

  “This is the land I wish to live in for the rest of my life,” she continued. “By now, I am sure you have all heard the rumors of what has happened to our army, to my father. And I am here to say that the rumors are true. My father, your Lord, has been struck down in a cowardly ambush. An ambush that not only took his life, but also the lives of my uncle, my brother, and the brave warriors who you call family.”

  A collective gasp rippled across the crowd. Angry shouts and sorrowful cries rang out as women comforted children and men gripped their weapons in disbelief. A few in the crowd even dropped to their knees, tears streaming down their faces.

  Tricia raised her voice, speaking over the noise. “Currently, the same cowardly army that murdered our loved ones is now marching towards us with a single goal—to wipe us from this land. We have sent word to the Queen for aid, but by the time help arrives, the enemy will already be at our gates.”

  She paused, letting her words settle. The crowd was silent now; the misty rain turned into a hard drizzle that plastered her long hair to her head and washed her armor clean.

  “Some of you may believe that if you surrender, they will spare your lives,” she said, letting the rain run down her face. “Some of you may even survive—but you will not live. The men and boys will be treated like animals, made to work the land until they die in exhaustion. The women and girls will be used until they are broken, then cast aside to die.”

  Her Aether-infused voice thundered across the courtyard. “I WILL NOT LET THIS HAPPEN! I would rather fight to my last breath than give up our land. I would rather follow my father and brother in death, sword in hand, than to live broken on my knees. I will not cower. I will not run from the very people who have killed our family.”

  The silent crowd was now shouting; weapons and fists rose into the air.

  “Leora! Leora! Leora! Long live the Lion of the South!”

  Taking a deep breath, Tricia drew her sword, lifting it high above her head. “When I meet my ancestors on the shores of the Last Sea, I will proudly tell them that I died protecting our home. I will proudly tell them that I died with a sword in my hand.”

  Her gaze swept across the crowd. She saw soldiers too old to be out of bed, children, too young to know war, men and women holding weapons who had ever held one before.

  “Those who fear for their lives and do not wish to fight may leave now. There will be no punishment. You will all go with my blessing and heartfelt thanks for everything you have done for us. There will be no shame. But for those of you who choose to bleed and die with me—I salute you!”

  Bringing her sword in front of her face, Tricia stared at the silent crowd. A heartbeat passed—then another—before the courtyard erupted in a deafening roar. Fatigued faces hardened with resolve as men and women alike lifted their weapons in the air. Swords, spears, and banners cut through the rain, their voices carried far.

  “Leora! Leora! Leora!”

  Not a soul walked away.

  “My Lady! We are ready to die with you!” Pillar Moore shouted, his knee hitting the ground as he knelt before her. “We will die for Leora!”

  As the crowd pledged their loyalty to her sister, Edium stood there in a daze, a cold dread running down her spine.

  Everyone will die, she thought, her wet, cold hands close to her mouth. I need to do something!

  Making up her mind, she clutched the edges of her cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself before running towards the stables, her heart pounding. With each step, mud sprayed behind her, causing specks of it to splatter across her cloak and boots, but she ignored it as she ran, her breath coming in short gasps.

  Reaching the stables, she hurried to the back stall, where a breathtaking warhorse stood, his jet-black coat glistening in the lamplight. “Midnight,” she whispered urgently. “Please—you’re my only hope.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his mane.

  Pulling back, she met his intelligent eyes and willed him to understand. “Midnight, I need you to go find Letius. You’re the only one who knows where he is. You have to bring him back. Our House’s future depends on him.”

  Finding a quill and a scrap of paper, she wrote a short note, her shaking hands turning the words into a messy scrawl. Folding the note, she quickly stuffed it into a saddle bag and swung the saddle onto Midnight’s back and fastened the straps.

  “Please,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “Find my brother. We need Letius.”

  Leading the horse outside, she patted the horse's rear. “Run, Midnight. Run. Find your master. Bring him back home.”

  Almost as if he understood, Midnight nuzzled up to her before he turned towards the forest. His powerful form vanished into the haze, leaving Edium standing alone in the rain.