The mana barrier fell at the end of the afternoon.
It did not shatter suddenly. There was no crash, no flash. It merely began to thin, like the fog of the previous day, dissolving into blue filaments that the wind carried south. First the academy towers became visible again. Then the walls. Then the sea, in the distance, glinting in the setting sun.
Alethea Emeth sat on the ground in the main courtyard, her hands on her knees, her silver hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Andy stood beside her, watching the sky.
"Can you maintain it?" he asked.
"It's no longer necessary," the elf replied, her voice tired. "The mana that fed the barrier… is gone. Whoever created it is also gone."
"Ierály?"
"Or Trussum. Or both. I don't know. I'm too tired to know."
Andy touched her shoulder.
"Rest. We'll handle the rest."
Alethea closed her eyes. She fell asleep sitting up.
---
Outside the walls, the remaining corrupted began to flee.
Not all. Some, the closest to Trussum, stayed. They fought to the end. They died with their yellow eyes open, mouths foaming, hands still trying to grab those who killed them.
Most, however, fled. They threw their weapons to the ground, tore off their grey clothes, and ran toward the forest like hunted animals. The students wanted to pursue them.
"Leave them," Irina ordered. "They are not worth it. The enemy is not them."
"Then who?" someone asked.
"Trussum. Ierály. Those who command them."
No one answered.
---
In the middle of the battlefield, among the bodies of the corrupted and the fallen students, Zirinos found Mára Ferão.
She lay on her back, eyes open, her chest pierced by a spear that was not her own. Blood had run from her mouth, painting her chin dark red. Her once‑imposing armour was dented.
"Is she still breathing?" someone behind Zirinos asked.
"Barely," he replied.
He knelt beside her. His calm hands touched the professor's face. She moved her eyes, trying to focus on his face.
"You…" she whispered.
"Me."
"I always knew… you were dangerous."
"I know."
Zirinos took the dagger from her belt. The short, sharp blade. Mára did not resist. Perhaps she had no strength. Perhaps she did not want to.
"Don't cry for me, boy," she said, her last breath. "I don't deserve tears."
"I won't cry," Zirinos replied. "I will remember."
The strike was quick. Painless. Mára Ferão's body went still, her eyes still open, blood seeping slowly into the earth.
Zirinos wiped the dagger on his own tunic. He put it in his belt. He stood up.
"She's dead," he announced to no one in particular.
"Who killed her?" asked a passing soldier.
"The corrupted," Zirinos's voice was neutral, cold. "I saw her fall."
The soldier nodded and went on his way.
---
The aftermath lasted hours.
The students' bodies were taken to the improvised chapel in the east wing. The corrupted bodies were piled up in the field, covered with oil‑soaked cloths, and burned. The smell of burning flesh rose to the sky, mixed with the low clouds, and did not dissipate during the night.
Andy helped carry the wounded. Delluzio, beside him, counted the dead in a low voice.
"Thirty‑two students," the knight said. "Twelve teachers and servants. More than two hundred corrupted."
"The numbers don't matter," Andy replied. "What matters is who stayed."
"Many stayed. But many also left."
Andy did not answer. He just kept carrying stretchers.
---
Irina found Arth in the servants' wing corridor.
He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, his hands stained with blood. It was not his blood. He had helped carry the wounded, stop the bleeding, hold the hands of dying students.
"Arth," she called.
He raised his head. His eyes were red, but not from crying.
"Director."
"We need you in the infirmary. We're short of hands."
"I'm coming."
He did not get up. Irina sat down beside him, her back also against the wall.
"Andy arrived," she said. "A while ago. He brought the elf."
"I know. I saw him."
"Are you angry?"
"Can I be?"
"You can. You have the right."
Arth looked at his hands.
"I'm not angry," he said finally. "I'm tired. It's different."
"I know." Irina touched his shoulder. "So am I."
They sat in silence. Outside, the fire crackled.
---
In the main courtyard, the students who could still stand gathered in small groups.
They talked about those who had died. Those who had fought. Those who had fled. No one mentioned those who had been corrupted. It was as if they had never existed.
I sat on a step, the dark‑haired boy beside me. He still hadn't told me his name. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps never.
Zirinos approached.
"Andy wants to talk to us," he said.
"Us?"
"You, me, Ana, Luna, and Alethea."
"Why?"
"Because we survived. And because the war isn't over yet."
I stood up. The boy clung to my leg.
"I'll stay here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You stay," I replied. "I'll come back."
He didn't believe me. But he let go.
---
The meeting room was full.
Andy, Delluzio, Irina, the teachers (those who remained), the older students. Ana, pale, sitting in a corner, the mark of Anorys glowing faintly. Luna, with red eyes from crying. Néris, holding a scroll she wasn't reading. Zirinos, standing by the window.
And me, leaning against the wall, my hands still trembling.
"Trussum fled," Andy announced. "He wounded Ierály, the leader of the Contraranures, and fled. We don't know where."
"Why did he wound her?" asked Endomir.
"Because she failed. The siege was supposed to last longer. It was supposed to weaken us. But the barrier fell earlier than planned. Ierály couldn't sustain it."
"And now?" asked Lara.
"Now we regroup. Count the dead. Bury our friends. And prepare for the next."
"When will the next be?" someone asked.
Andy looked at the window. Outside, the fire still burned.
"When Trussum finds a new way to attack us. Until then, we train. And we wait."
"Waiting is dying," said Zirinos.
"Dying is dying. Waiting is living one more day."
Zirinos did not reply.
---
At the end of the meeting, Andy called me aside.
"Ethan."
"Duke."
"My son Alór is on his way. He hasn't arrived yet. If he arrives and I'm not here… tell him his father is waiting for him."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to look for Trussum. Someone has to."
"That's suicide."
"It's my duty." Andy squeezed my shoulder. "Be careful with Zirinos."
"Why?"
"Because I saw what he did to Mára Ferão. It wasn't a corrupted who killed her. It was him."
The blood froze in my veins.
"What?"
"I didn't tell you anything. Don't forget."
Andy walked away. I stood alone in the corridor, staring at the door through which he had disappeared.
'Zirinos killed Mára', I thought. 'Why?'
The answer did not come.
Outside, the fire burned.