The smoke stung Kael's eyes as he dragged himself through the wreckage of Bleakmire. His broken leg screamed with every movement, leaving a dark trail in the ash behind him. The snow had melted away, revealing the blackened bones of his home.
He found it near what remained of the hearth his father's coat. The heavy wool had melted into strange shapes, fused with something metallic. Kael reached out with trembling fingers, brushing away cinders. The button was gone. Only its ghost remained, a perfect circular stain burned into the fabric.
A shell screamed overhead. Kael didn't flinch as it exploded somewhere near the mill. Dirt rained down around him, pattering against the ruins like mocking applause.
"You were wrong, Mother," he whispered. His voice sounded alien to his own ears. "The world doesn't start over. It just burns."
Another explosion. Closer this time. Kael stared at the flames licking at the remains of Marta's house across the way. He remembered her helping him into the wheelchair just hours before. Had she made it out?
The sound of boots crunching on debris. Rough hands grabbed him under the arms, hauling him upright. Kael's vision awam as pain lanced through his legs.
"This one's breathing!" a gruff voice announced.
Kael blinked up at the soldier. The man's face was obscured by a helmet, but Kael could see the raven insignia stamped into his breastplate. It looked almost like it was laughing at him.
"Save your fight for the front, boy," the soldier grunted when Kael weakly struggled. He smelled of leather and iron and something faintly sour sweat. fear
As he was thrown into a waiting cart, Kael caught a glimpse of figures moving through the smoke beyond the village. Their white cloaks fluttered like surrender flags. One turned, and for a heartbeat Kael thought he saw Nymera's face. Then the cart lurched forward, and the vision was gone.
In the dim light, Kael uncurled his fist. A scrap of his father's coat clung to his palm, the edges crumbling to ash even as he watched. Outside, the ravens called to each other, their voices sharp as broken glass.
The wheels turned south. Toward war. Toward Nymera. Toward the end of all things.