The screams came first.
Short.
Cut off far too quickly.
Echoing distantly through the stone structure.
Then—
only the footsteps remained.
Slow.
Heavy.
Crossing the damp stone while blood slowly slid through the cracks of the underground corridor.
The man collapsed against the stone floor.
Breathing failing.
His hands trembled as he tried to drag himself backward between broken crates and torches dying against the narrow walls of the passage.
"P-Prince…"
His voice failed.
His eyes remained locked on the darkness ahead in the corridor.
"Wait…"
Another footstep echoed.
The figure slowly began to emerge beyond the weak torchlight.
First—
the black boots.
Covered in mud and blood.
Then the dark armor emerged from the corridor's narrow darkness.
Marked by cuts.
Fragments of blood scattered across the black plates.
The viscous liquid ran down the side of the armor.
The man felt his throat tighten.
"We can negotiate."
His fingers failed trying to brace against the damp floor.
"The territory is yours…"
The voice came out desperate now.
Too fast.
"I'll open the remaining gates…"
Another step.
Closer.
The man's face sank into pure terror when he realized the black eyes showed absolutely nothing while looking at him.
"I-I'll hand over the records, gold, supplies—"
His breathing broke.
"I-I can help you against the Central Kingdom…"
"I can—"
The figure finally stopped in front of him.
Tall.
Motionless.
The corridor's shadow partially concealed the face surrounded by disordered black hair.
But the eyes remained visible.
Too dark.
And the voice came low:
"You already had that chance."
The man immediately opened his mouth.
"N-No… wait, I—"
The sound of the blade cutting through crossed the corridor.
Dry.
Blood struck the stone wall.
The body collapsed heavily against the damp floor.
He remained motionless watching the corpse for a brief instant.
Only the sound of blood slowly running through the cracks in the stone remained in the corridor.
Then new footsteps began echoing behind him.
Steady.
Rhythmic.
"Prince Éon."
The female voice crossed the corridor calmly.
"This was the last resistance cell inside the castle."
Éon partially turned his face.
And the torchlight reached the figure standing a few meters behind him.
The blue eyes remained attentive.
Calm.
The dark armor adjusted itself to her body without carrying excess ornamentation while small metallic markings subtly reflected the weak torchlight.
Black gauntlets covered her forearms from the fingers to just below the elbows, like natural extensions of her own body.
Golden and scarlet veins slowly pulsed beneath the metallic structure, like something alive breathing under the surface.
Attached to the holsters along her thighs, two dark pistols followed every movement.
Her short dark-brown hair moved lightly with the wind crossing through the upper passages.
Éon lightly rotated the katana.
Blood was thrown from the blade in a dark arc against the corridor's damp stone.
The metallic sound of the sheath echoed low when he put the blade away.
Then he began walking.
Passing beside Lyra.
She followed him silently as they advanced through the underground corridor.
Then they reached the stone staircase leading into the castle's interior.
Ancient columns emerged among the shadows above them.
Torn banners from the old territory still burned slowly attached to the walls.
Northern soldiers crossed the upper corridors carrying bodies and weapons taken during the invasion.
The smell of smoke still dominated the interior.
Éon kept his eyes forward.
"Situation."
"The internal points have already been secured."
Lyra's voice remained firm.
Objective.
"The civilians have been gathered in the central areas."
"No looting has been reported so far."
The two crossed the narrow hall above the staircase.
Morning light was already beginning to partially cut through the castle's tall windows.
Soldiers interrupted their own movements when Éon passed.
Immediate silence.
Lyra continued:
"Messengers have already departed to inform the Northern Kingdom about the fortress being taken."
"The knights are already prepared to march."
Éon kept advancing toward the castle's main exit.
"Report."
Lyra slightly raised her eyes.
"The Shadow Ravens updated the movements."
The two crossed the castle's inner gates.
And the daylight finally opened before them.
The conquered territory stretched below them.
Smoke rising between partially destroyed structures.
The black wolf banner stood raised above the central walls.
Lyra continued:
"The Second Division began movement after the fall of Tricórdio."
"The Third and Fourth began marching during the early dawn."
The blue eyes remained turned beyond the walls.
"The Fifth left Surnakar at sunrise."
"And there was movement in Vhaelor."
The wind slowly crossed the castle exit.
"All of them are converging on Arkhel."
Éon watched the territory below.
Wounded were being carried through the stone streets.
Surrendered soldiers remained kneeling near the inner walls while Northern men collected weapons.
Smoke still rose between the destroyed rooftops.
Éon started walking again.
Slowly descending the steps leading to the main courtyard.
Soldiers immediately opened a path as he advanced.
The horse was already waiting near the outer gates.
Motionless.
Partially covered by dark armor marked by the battle's dust.
Éon kept his eyes forward.
"I'll leave enough men to maintain the territory."
The voice came calm.
Cold.
Lyra remained silent for a brief instant before slightly inclining her head.
"It will be done."
Éon approached the horse.
The nearby soldiers began moving almost at the same instant.
Orders crossed the space.
Horses being prepared.
Formations reorganized.
Lyra watched the movement in silence when a knight quickly approached from the right side.
The armor still carried fresh marks from battle.
He discreetly inclined his body near her.
The voice came low.
Almost inaudible.
Lyra listened without changing expression.
The knight stepped away immediately after.
Stopping a few steps behind her.
"Prince Éon."
He held the black horse's reins without turning his face.
"If the mercenaries lose control before the replacement arrives…"
"Execute them immediately."
No change crossed his voice.
Lyra merely nodded again.
Éon finally mounted the horse.
The black armor reflected fragments of sunlight while the animal slowly advanced toward the outer gates.
Soldiers began following him almost immediately.
The sound of marching once again filled the courtyard.
Lyra partially turned her face.
"Take me there."
They began crossing the courtyard while the sound of marching started fading beyond the gates.
The knight remained a few steps ahead of her.
Guiding the path through the inner streets of the newly taken territory.
The smell of smoke still dominated the air.
Partially destroyed buildings emerged between narrow alleys while small fires still burned in some places.
Soldiers patrolled the abandoned streets in the distance.
As they advanced—
the sounds began to change.
Male laughter.
A woman crying somewhere beyond the narrow alley.
The knight slowed down.
Ahead stood a building partially squeezed between the stone alleys.
The wooden door remained closed.
But voices clearly crossed from inside.
"No…"
The voice came broken behind the door.
"P-please…"
Another immediately rose above it.
Male.
Dragged by alcohol.
"Shut up."
A laugh echoed inside.
"Or the little one's next."
A dry impact.
The girl cried immediately after.
Lyra was already moving.
The door burst violently against the wall under the force of the kick.
The crash crossed the small room.
Five men turned their heads almost at the same time.
The smell of cheap alcohol, sweat, and smoke suffocated the place.
And in the center of the room—
the woman remained fallen across the wooden boards.
Clothes partially torn.
Face covered in tears.
One of the men still kneeling over her.
Another holding the girl against the wall while she uselessly tried pulling her arm back.
The third remained seated near the destroyed table.
Drinking.
The others merely watched.
Laughing.
The man over the woman let out a short laugh when he saw Lyra.
His eyes slowly slid across her body.
Without any hurry.
"So it was true…"
Another laugh crossed the room.
"Now I get why the prince doesn't share that one."
The man holding the girl snorted a laugh.
"She's worth more than the entire loot."
More laughter.
Lyra did not respond.
Her footsteps slowly advanced across the wooden floor.
Calm.
Precise.
The blue eyes briefly passed over the victims.
Lyra drew the pistol.
The cold metal slowly pressed against the forehead of the man over the woman.
His smile faltered for the first time.
But only for an instant.
"Easy…"
His hands slowly rose.
A crooked smile still attached to his face.
"Nobody touched the little one."
Another laugh crossed the room.
"Yet."
The man seated at the table took another drink.
"Relax."
"We were just having a little fun."
Lyra kept her eyes fixed on the man in front of her.
"Move."
The tone remained calm.
The man held her gaze for one second.
Two.
Then slowly stood from the woman's body.
Still smiling.
"See?"
He let out a muffled laugh.
"She's more reasonable than the North Wolf."
Lyra partially turned her face.
Her eyes landed on the knight standing at the entrance.
He immediately entered.
The woman barely managed to move when he covered her with his own cloak and pulled her from the floor.
The child immediately ran to her mother.
The mercenary only released her arm at the last instant.
"You should leave the little one."
He laughed.
"She won't even remember this in a few years."
More muffled laughter crossed the room.
The knight quickly took both of them out.
The door remained open.
The wind carried the distant smell of smoke into the room.
Lyra remained standing in the center of the room.
The pistol lowered beside her body.
Silence.
The man seated near the table took another drink from the bottle.
His eyes slowly slid across her body.
"If you wanted in…"
A crooked smile appeared on his face while he slowly raised the bottle.
"You just had to ask."
The black pistol slowly moved toward the seated man.
His smile faltered.
When he realized there was no provocation at all in her eyes.
Only execution.
"FU—"
The gunshot exploded inside the house.
The bottle slipped from his hand before the body violently crashed against the destroyed table.
Blood spread across the broken wood.
Running through the cracks before slowly dripping against the floorboards.
The man closest to Lyra instinctively stepped back.
The pistol was already pointed at him.
"Wai—"
The shot happened before he even finished speaking.
Blood sprayed across the side of Lyra's armor.
Part of it struck her face.
The body collapsed heavily against the wooden boards.
Two men advanced almost at the same instant.
"YOU BITCH!!"
The mercenary near the wall pulled the short sword from his waist while charging forward.
Another came right behind him from the left.
Lyra was already moving.
The shot hit the first one directly in the chest.
The impact violently threw the man backward before he crashed against the wall.
The second got too close.
A hand tried grabbing her armed arm while the blade emerged from the side.
Lyra shifted her body at the last instant.
The sword scraped across the dark armor.
She spun together with the movement.
Her elbow violently struck the man's face.
The mercenary lost balance.
The pistol rose immediately.
Two shots.
Blood exploded across the structure's low ceiling while the body violently collapsed against the wooden floor.
The last man hesitated.
Breathing failing while he stared at the bodies scattered across the room.
Eyes locked on the blood partially covering her face and armor.
He abruptly turned toward the exit.
The sword slipped from his hand before the first step.
The black pistol slowly rose toward him.
Lyra pulled the trigger.
The shot crossed the house's silence.
The body was thrown forward before collapsing heavily near the open door.
And then—
nothing.
Only the smell of gunpowder.
And the heavy breathing dying together with the echo of the shot.
Lyra calmly walked out of the building.
Blood partially slid down the side of her face before disappearing beneath the line of her jaw.
Behind her—
silence had returned.
Heavy.
And the metallic smell of blood and gunpowder slowly escaped the building.
A figure waited motionless a few meters ahead among the smoke spread through the territory's destroyed streets.
Black hair fell just below the shoulders.
Straight.
Dense.
The light archer's clothing followed the body without excess metallic plates while small dark details remained attached to the belt beside the short quiver on her back.
Brown eyes with faint copper tones attentively watched Lyra.
Then briefly slid toward the building's dark interior.
Before returning to Lyra.
Too deep for such a delicate face.
Lyra held the gaze for a brief instant.
Her eyes quickly passed over the black clothes.
The girl extended a small cloth toward her.
"The mistake was mine."
The voice came low.
Controlled.
"I was responsible for keeping the mercenaries under surveillance."
Lyra took the cloth.
Beginning to slowly clean the blood caught near her jaw.
"I already expected something like this would happen."
Her eyes remained fixed ahead.
"I just didn't imagine they would act..."
"Right after hearing that His Highness would leave before the rest of the troops."
The blue eyes slowly moved toward the girl.
"Soon this territory will stop being our responsibility."
"Until then, keep the remaining mercenaries under control."
The girl nodded silently.
Her eyes briefly returned to the building behind her.
To the blood slowly running through the entrance of the room.
Lyra handed back the cloth already stained red.
"After the transition, they stop being useful."
She partially turned her face.
"Be ready to leave at any moment."
The girl slowly closed her fingers around the stained cloth.
Nodded once more.