Page 78 of Fated in A Time of War
My shoulder’s screaming from a hit earlier—I can’t even tell when I got it. Blood slicks my scales, sticky and hot under the armor. Doesn’t matter. I press forward. I have to.
The ground shakes—again, stronger than before. Not the way a blast shakes the dirt. This is deeper. Heavier. A rhythm like a giant’s heartbeat.
And then I hear the roar.
The war engine.
It rolls into view like the nightmare it is, treads grinding up earth, smoke pouring from its rear vents. The front cannon swivels, targets our flank, and fires. The shockwave slams into me before the heat does. I’m thrown off my feet, crash hard into a collapsed barricade, and the wind blasts from my lungs.I scramble upright, blinking through soot and pain, and catch sight of the north wall folding like wet paper.
They’re in.
The Kru breach the camp in force, screaming war cries, weapons raised. The ground’s a flood of red and black. Behind them, the engine crawls forward, each impact from its treads a death sentence for anything beneath.
And through the smoke, I see her.
Alice.
She’s still standing near the infirmary, dragging a wounded kid toward shelter, hands slick with blood, eyes locked on the wreckage. She’s not panicking. She’s not frozen. She’s still fighting.
My body moves before I can think.
I shove past a pair of defenders falling back, leap over a broken turret mount, and sprint toward her. My feet barely touch ground—I can’t hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears and the pounding thunder behind me. She looks up just as I break through the last line of smoke.
“Alice!”
Her head snaps toward me, and there comes a flash.
Pain explodes behind my eyes as something metal cracks against my skull. My legs buckle. The world tilts sideways. For a second, I think I’m floating, like the ground’s been pulled out from under me. Then darkness curls around my vision like smoke.
I hit the dirt hard, cheek scraping gravel, the roar of the engine growing distant and close all at once. Voices swirl around me—gunfire, screams, static. The copper taste of blood fills my mouth. I try to move, but my limbs are heavy, sluggish. My mind screams for Alice, but my body’s giving out.
She’s still out there.
And I’m down.
I come backto the world gasping through smoke.
Ash rides the air so thick it clings to my throat like mud, clogs my nose, grits between my teeth. My lungs burn with each shallow draw, ribs bruised or cracked—I can’t tell which. The side of my face is slick with blood, vision blurred on one side. My head throbs with every heartbeat, and there’s a high whine ringing in my ears that won’t go away, like a tuning fork jammed into my skull.
It takes a second to remember where I am. What happened.
Then I see the wall. Or what’s left of it. Twisted steel bones reaching skyward like a carcass. The trench line’s collapsed. The mech’s path is cut clear through the camp. There’s blood in the mud. Limbs half-buried in rubble. Nothing’s moving right. Nothing’s where it should be.
I push up with a grunt, arms trembling under my weight. Every joint feels unhinged, like I’ve been torn apart and put back wrong. My claws scrape against shattered concrete as I force myself to my feet.
The infirmary is gone.
Charred canvas flaps in the breeze, edges glowing with dying embers. Medical crates are scattered like kicked-in teeth. One of the cots is on fire. I limp forward, scanning—desperate, frantic—but there's no sign of her. No flash of red hair, no sound of her voice over the chaos. My stomach twists into a knot of ice and fire.
“Alice!” I bark, but it comes out hoarse. Broken.
There’s no answer.
I stumble through the remains, shoulder brushing against melted frame bars, boots crunching glass. The stink of burned cloth, scorched flesh, and sterilizer chokes me. But there’s something else—faint, lingering. Crushed herbs. The scent she always carried after hours in triage. It cuts through everything, anchors me. She was here. Recently.
Then I see it—half-buried under a cracked piece of flooring, scorched at the edges.
Her satchel.
