The battlefield had grown eerily quiet. Where once the earth had trembled with the clash of steel and the thunder of orcish roars, now only the groans of the dying and the relentless patter of rain remained. Smoke drifted in heavy curtains, curling from shattered siege towers and burning heaps of corpses, the stench of blood and charred flesh clinging to the air.
Amidst the ruin, a broken figure lay upon the churned mud—Renher, king and warrior, body torn yet spirit still clinging stubbornly to the fraying thread of life. His breaths came ragged, each one sounding like a blade dragging across stone. The storm's downpour slicked his armor, a cruel mix of rain and blood.
Then, a piercing cry split the heavens.
Horus descended, his black wings beating against the storm, feathers slick with rain, talons striking the mud with a sharp snap. The great warhawk folded his wings and pressed close to his fallen companion, his feathers trembling as though he sought to share warmth, to deny the truth both instinct and sight made undeniable.
"You stayed…" Renher's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a weak chuckle breaking the grim silence. "Stubborn bird."
Horus fluffed his feathers, keen eyes glinting with a grief too human. His voice, ancient and bonded, echoed in Renher's fading mind. "You are hurt."
Renher let his hand trail weakly along the damp plumage, savoring the familiar strength there. "Hurt is… an understatement, my friend." His voice cracked, breath shallow. "Looks like… I won't be flying with you anymore."
Horus shifted closer, refusing to retreat, his talons sinking into the mud as if anchoring himself against fate itself. "Then I will walk beside you."
A pang of sorrow cut through Renher's chest, deeper than any blade. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the chill seep further into his bones. "Not this time… old friend. You must go on… without me."
The hawk's wings twitched, as though to take flight in rebellion. His sharp cry rang out, defiant, a denial to the heavens themselves. No.
But the king's vision blurred, his body heavy as stone. "Horus," Renher rasped, forcing his voice to steady despite the weight dragging him down. "Listen to me. Find Kaileen. She will need you now."
The bird let out a low, mournful call, pecking gently at his master's hand as though urging him to rise, to fight, to deny the inevitable.
Nearby, Thymur watched in silent torment. His fists clenched until the leather of his gloves creaked, veins bulging at his temple. "Renher, don't do this," he said, voice trembling, almost childlike in its plea. "You can still make it. Just hold on, damn it!"
Alison, rain streaming down his face and mixing with unseen tears, wiped at his cheeks as though to hide them. His voice cracked as he spoke, half-command, half-desperate plea. "We need you, Renher. The kingdom needs you. You can't… you can't just leave now!"
The king smiled faintly, his expression calm despite the chaos that raged in the hearts of those around him. "No," he whispered, each word like embers dying in ash. "It needs you now."
The battlefield seemed to bow to the moment, the storm's roar softening to a mournful backdrop. Broken banners flapped weakly in the wind, blood mixing with rain to form rivulets of crimson across the soil. Even the groans of the wounded seemed to fade, leaving only the intimate circle of grief around the dying king.
With the mention of Kaileen, Horus shifted suddenly, pecking insistently at the pouch strapped to his back. His movements were urgent, almost frantic, until Thymur, brow furrowed, understood.
"What is it?" he muttered, pulling the pouch free. His fingers worked quickly, undoing the wet straps. Inside, carefully shielded from the storm, lay a folded letter. His chest tightened.
Renher stirred, his eyes clouded but flickering with recognition. "Who… who is it from?" he whispered, though in his heart, he already knew. Only one woman had the stubbornness—and the bond with Horus—to ensure her words reached him here.
Thymur hesitated, then answered softly. "It's from the queen."
Without waiting for permission, he unfolded the letter and began to read, his voice trembling against the storm.
My Dearest Husband,
The ink bleeds on this page, much like the wound in my heart. The words seem inadequate, frail things against the storm of unspoken regrets that churn within me. I know you ride at dawn, and the thought of you facing the horrors of the battlefield with our last words hanging between us like a poisoned shroud is unbearable.
The fight, that bitter clash of wills, now seems a cruel, petty thing in the face of what looms. I know my words were sharp, and perhaps I spoke too hastily, driven by a fear I could not name. But know this, my love, beneath the anger, beneath the hurt, lies a love that burns brighter than any battlefield fire.
I wish, with every fiber of my being, that we could have mended the rift, that I could have held you close and whispered apologies until dawn. But time, that relentless master, steals you away, leaving me with only these inadequate words.
Go now, my love, with the strength of our kingdom behind you. Let the memory of our love, however flawed it may seem now, be your shield and your sword. Return to me, my love. Return to me whole, and we will find our way back to the peace we once knew.
Until then, my heart rides with you.
Your Queen, forever and always.
The searing pain in Renher's chest burned anew, a cruel reminder of wounds deeper than steel. Kaileen… His eyes glistened, a single tear cutting through the grime. If only I had listened. If only…
Her face rose in his mind, half-forgotten in the haze of battle, yet achingly clear: her worried eyes, her patient sigh, the way she smoothed his hair when he buried himself in duties. Too late now, my love.
He glanced at Thymur and Alison. For a heartbeat, he saw not soldiers, but friends. His façade of the unyielding king faltered. They've never seen me cry before, he thought, an odd detachment settling over him. What a pathetic sight for a king.
Still, the ache in his heart was not weakness—it was love, raw and unguarded. He longed to whisper it aloud, to give Kaileen the words she deserved, but his breath was failing. His lips trembled, the words lost in the storm.
With a desperate effort, he forced his body to obey one last command. His trembling hand gestured weakly. "My… my armor," he rasped to Alison, his voice hoarse. "Inside… there's…"
Alison reacted at once, panic sharpening his movements. He tore open the blood-soaked plates and reached within, fingers brushing against something crumpled and fragile. A letter—creased, damp, but intact.
Renher's dim eyes lit with urgency as he turned to Horus. The hawk tilted his head, feathers glistening under the rain.
"My partner… my friend…" Renher whispered, his voice breaking. "Take this… to Kaileen. Stay by her side. Protect her… where I cannot."
His strength ebbed, his hand slipping from Horus's feathered leg. "Fly… for me… one last time."
For a heartbeat, the hawk was still, his golden eyes reflecting the king's fading light. Then he loosed a cry that pierced heaven and earth, a sound that sent shivers through every soul on the field. Spreading his mighty wings, Horus soared into the storm, carrying with him the last message of a dying king.
Renher followed him with clouded eyes, a faint smile curving his lips. "I'm proud of you both," he murmured to Thymur and Alison, his voice barely a whisper now. "Protect… what I could not…"
The cold spread relentlessly, stealing sensation from his limbs. Rain felt distant now, like a memory rather than a touch. He drifted between moments of clarity and waves of darkness.
So this is death, he thought. Not fire or fury… just stillness. Just… tired.
The world around him dimmed. The sky grew heavy, shadows twisting with unnatural light. A wisp of dark smoke coiled above the battlefield, blood-red sparks flickering within. Renher, half-conscious, glimpsed it in his fading vision and shivered. An omen… or a curse…
Alison and Thymur knelt close, their hands gripping his, refusing to let go.
"No," Alison growled, his voice hoarse with fury. "This shouldn't have happened! We should have protected him!" His fist struck the mud, blood and rain splattering. "We failed!"
"We should have begged him…" Thymur's voice cracked, tears streaming freely. He cradled Renher's head with trembling hands. "Told him to stay back… to live…" His sobs were raw, childlike, unguarded.
Renher's lips moved faintly, forming words they could barely hear. "No… you did not fail. You fought… as I asked." His eyes closed briefly, then fluttered open, gaze soft. "Now… fight on. For me. For the kingdom."
His hand slipped from Alison's grasp, falling heavily to the ground. The king's chest stilled. His spirit departed with the storm.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Even the rain seemed to pause.
Then Alison let out a guttural roar, slamming his fist again into the mud, his grief untempered. "By the gods!" His cry echoed across the emptying battlefield.
Thymur's voice came as a broken whisper. "We failed the king… we failed the kingdom…" His tears fell onto Renher's still face.
Alison's eyes hardened through the grief. His voice, steel laced with sorrow, cut through the storm. "No. We fight on. For him. For the people. That is what he would demand of us."
Thymur swallowed hard, guilt choking him. "Without him… what are we?"
"His legacy," Alison answered, his gaze locked on Renher's still face. His eyes burned with both pain and resolve. "We are his shield now."
Above, the storm raged on, a reflection of their turmoil. Yet somewhere in that storm, Horus carried a fragile letter through the night, a thread of love and duty tying the living to the memory of their fallen king.
And for those who knelt in the mud that day, grief was not the only emotion.