The horns of war split the morning.
Caden stood on the ramparts, hands trembling against the rough stone. Below, the warlord's army gathered in ranks: scarred soldiers in scavenged armor, spears and blades glinting, shields hammered from broken cars. Their chants shook the ground, a hungry thunder rolling across the ruined plain.
Beyond them, on the horizon, banners rose from another city's walls. A rival faction. Its soldiers bristled like thorns, guarding their fortress with the desperation of those who had nowhere else to run.
Caden's stomach turned. He knew what was coming.
The warlord strode past him, draped in steel and scars. He didn't even glance at Caden, only raised a gauntleted hand toward the army below. His voice boomed like iron striking an anvil.
"Today, we take what is ours! And today, we unleash our gift upon them!"
A roar answered him. A thousand voices calling for blood. And then all those eyes turned, toward Caden.
He wanted to disappear.
Ravel appeared at his side, silent as ever. The scarred soldier leaned close, his voice low enough only Caden could hear. "Don't think. Just survive."
Caden looked at him, wide-eyed. "Survive what?"
Ravel didn't answer.
The gates opened.
They shoved Caden forward, out onto the plain, between two squads of soldiers who formed a ring around him as they advanced. The chants grew louder. He walked stiffly, every step heavier, his heart clawing against his chest. He wanted to run, but where? Behind him was the warlord. Ahead, another army. On every side, men with swords ready to cut him down if he faltered.
He was the hound on a leash.
The battle began in a storm of steel. The two armies clashed with a scream of metal, shields crashing, arrows slicing through the air. The sky darkened with smoke. Caden stood frozen, hands clenched, as soldiers fell screaming around him.
"Now, boy!" the warlord roared from the rear. "Open it!"
Caden's breath hitched. He staggered back, the world tilting. "No, I— I can't—"
Ravel's shout cut across the chaos "Caden! Control it! Just like the trial!"
But the void inside him was already stirring.
Hungry.
Dust curled at his feet, dragged inward. Arrows veered off course midair, sucked into nothing. Men stumbled as the ground seemed to shift beneath them, pulled toward the boy standing rigid at the center of the storm.
Caden screamed, the void tearing through him. And then, the battlefield cracked.
A black sphere, writhing with edges that weren't edges at all, tore open before him. Soldiers, enemy and ally alike, staggered back in horror as the air itself bent toward it. Shields ripped from hands, weapons twisted, bodies dragged screaming into the impossible dark.
The rival army faltered. Panic broke their lines. They fled, tripping over their own dead to escape the pull.
And then, just as suddenly, the void winked shut.
Caden collapsed, gasping, his body wracked with pain. His vision swam. All around him lay twisted wreckage, broken weapons, torn earth, men crying out for limbs they no longer had.
The warlord's army roared in triumph. They raised their weapons, chanting Caden's name. "Gifted! Gifted!"
But the boy didn't hear victory in their voices. Only hunger.
That night, the fortress feasted. Fires roared, meat sizzled, cups overflowed with stolen wine. Soldiers clapped Caden on the back until his bones ached, calling him savior, weapon, curse.
Caden sat apart in the shadows, untouched food before him. The cheers made him sick. Every time he blinked, he saw the faces of those pulled into the void. Enemy soldiers, yes. But not all. He'd seen one of the warlord's men vanish too, screaming as his comrades looked away.
Blood on his hands. Blood he hadn't wanted.
Ravel found him there. The scarred soldier lowered himself onto the bench across from him, chewing a strip of meat like the noise meant nothing.
"You did what he wanted," Ravel said flatly.
Caden shook his head, voice raw. "I killed them. I didn't even, I couldn't stop it."
Ravel studied him, expression unreadable. Then he leaned in. "Listen, boy. You're not his weapon. Not unless you let him keep holding the leash."
Caden's eyes widened. For the first time, he heard something in Ravel's voice that wasn't command or test, it was warning.
"Eat," Ravel said, standing again. "You'll need your strength. He won't stop until he's used you up."
And then he was gone, swallowed by the noise of the feast.
Caden stared down at his trembling hands, the whispers of the void still curling at the edge of his mind.
Hungry, it breathed.
He closed his fists. He couldn't keep doing this. Not for the warlord. Not for anyone.
But as the firelight danced on the fortress walls, he realized something terrible: he didn't know how to stop.