The vanguard did not know that their perfect armor was a cage.Collins stared through the smoke at three advancing iron shapes, his knuckles aching around the slick hilt of his rusted dagger. His new legs trembled beneath a fallen support beam. The leading soldier drew a heavy broadsword, the metal scraping against steel, a sound that made the remaining conscripts weep."Is anyone alive in this hole?" the lead soldier asked flatly inside his visor. He stepped closer, his boot coming down inches from Watson’s bleeding, unconscious face. "Finish them. High Command wants the ridge clear by dawn.""Don't touch him," Collins choked out.The three soldiers stopped, their visors pivoting toward the mud-caked boy pinned under the timber. The leader let out a mocking laugh. "Look at this little rat. Still breathing.""You are stepping too heavily on your left flank," Collins whispered, entirely devoid of fear. He shoved against the beam with a sudden burst of leverage, utilizing a weight-distri

"Write your final letters tonight, because tomorrow we march into a meat grinder."Commander Watson’s voice cracked in the dark tent, the small oil lamp flickering against the canvas. The remaining soldiers sat in a tight circle, their faces pale, the heavy silence broken only by the howling wind outside. Nobody reached for paper or charcoal; none of them had families left who cared about the dead."We aren't marching to fight," the older crossbowman muttered, staring at his boots. "We are marching to be executed by proxy. The Iron Crag is a vertical death wall.""We do what we are ordered, Miller," Watson snapped, though his hands shook as he tightened the splint on his leg. "We charge the front gate. We take the arrows so the secondary wave has a target.""That is the stupidest tactical approach I have ever heard," Collins said from the corner, his voice dripping with exhausted irritation.Watson swung around, his jaw tight. "You bought us this death sentence, boy. Keep your mouth s

"If you stare at a ghost long enough, Harrison, it eventually stares back."The thought burned like acid behind Collins’s eyes as the heavy oak doors of the Iron Crag’s inner sanctum swung open. The fortress had fallen in under an hour, a flawless, bloodless takeover from behind that should have made them heroes. Instead, the surviving members of the third platoon stood like prisoners in the center of the grand hall, surrounded by a wall of towering imperial guards."He's coming," Watson muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed entirely on the floor. "Collins, look down. For the love of God, do not look him in the eye."Collins didn't break his stare. A suffocating mix of blinding rage and forced submission thrummed through his veins as the heavy, deliberate thud of armored boots echoed down the corridor.General Winfred stepped into the hall.He looked exactly as he had three weeks ago on the execution platform, magnificent, ruthless, and radiating an absolute, crushing authority. H

"The dying do not scream for their empire, they scream for water."The agonizing wails from the upper courtyard echoed through the cold night air as the nightshade took hold of the officer corps. Sirens wailed, and heavy boots thudded frantically across the stone ramparts. The entire command structure of the iron legion was collapsing into a blind, screaming panic.Collins did not run from the noise; he ran toward it.Using the absolute madness as a shield, he slipped past the frantic guards rushing toward the grand hall and cut through the outer perimeter toward General Winfred’s private pavilion. A predatory thrill thrummed through his veins, a phantom spark of the absolute confidence he used to carry when this very tent belonged to him. He knew every seam of the canvas, every hidden latch on the heavy lockboxes. He needed the imperial ledger, the one document that contained the names and seals of every general who had signed his execution warrant.He slipped beneath the rear canvas

"I should put this bolt through your skull right now, but the man in that cage is the only reason my brother survived the siege of Valis."Watson’s confession hung in the freezing night air, the heavy iron crossbow lowering just an inch, though his finger remained white against the trigger. He wasn't looking at Collins like a commander looking at a insubordinate private anymore; he was looking at an executioner.Collins slowly lowered his hands, a rare, genuine spark of respect cutting through his icy exterior. "You knew Marcus.""Everyone who fought in the south knew him," Watson whispered, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the dark ramparts. "He was the only general who didn't steal the winter rations to line his own pockets. I'm a pragmatist, Collins, but I am not a monster. I won't watch him get butchered like cattle.""Then stop standing there holding a weapon on me," Collins muttered, stepping back toward the lock. "Help me lift the latch.""If we use the hammer, the vibra