Zarius carried Yulia on his back as they moved through Valdar's ruined streets, his eyes sweeping what was left of the city.
"I was hoping East Valdar made it," he said.
The stable ahead was a skeletal frame of rotting wood. The horses were gone. Their leather harnesses had fused to the ground into a stiff, black mess. What remained of the carriage—wheel rims, axle, brackets—was layered in orange rust.
Zarius let out a long breath.
"Looks like the whole city got crushed…"
Behind them, Moriana's voice came flat and tight.
"We don't have anything but our feet."
From his shoulder, Yulia murmured, her cheek resting against his coat.
"I wonder how long we can last."
Zarius didn't slow down, but his tone sharpened—less casual, more controlled.
"Honestly, there's a lot we need to sort out," he said."But not out here. Let's get inside the inn first."
When they reached it, the building was just another hollowed-out carcass. The familiar sign hung crooked from a single hinge, creaking softly in the wind.
They stepped inside—except Moriana.
She stopped in the courtyard and lowered herself onto a broken step. The air indoors felt too tight, like it would press on whatever control she still had left. She kept her eyes on the doorway, jaw clenched, breathing slow and deliberate.
Inside, their corner table was still there, but the wood had warped and splintered. Their packs lay where they'd left them—leather cracked and brittle. The bread had collapsed into a mound of black mold.
Veda knelt and opened the food sack she'd brought yesterday—then recoiled at the stench. Disgust twisted her face.
"It's all… gone."
Zarius eased Yulia down onto the ruined sofa, steadying her until she found her balance. The wood groaned under her weight.
Yulia adjusted herself, breath shallow. Her eyes flicked around the room, counting losses without saying it out loud.
"Check the water, Gord." she said.
Gord went to the sink with his back to them. He turned the tap, waited, then stared at what came out.
"The water too," he said. His voice stayed flat.
Zarius paced a few steps, scanning the corners, the ceiling, the floor—like he half-expected something to move. He stopped and stomped down on a rotting board.
It crumbled under his boot.
"Damn it!... we came here for nothing."
He turned to face them. No smirk this time.
"This changes everything," he said."The problem isn't Helmgard or transport."
He gestured toward the dead city beyond the windows.
"There's literally nothing left to live off."
He pulled a chair closer and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"All of you—take a seat. We need to talk."
Gord's gaze cut to the courtyard window, to Moriana's rigid silhouette outside.
"No time for talking," he said."We need to get the hell out of here."
Zarius didn't flinch.
"How?" he said, tone firm."We don't even have a pass."
A brief pause—then his eyes swept the room again.
"Where the hell is Veda?"
Yulia answered immediately, like she'd already expected it.
"In the toilet," she said. "She drank a lot."
Zarius dragged a hand down his face.
"Alright," he said."Let me make this clear."
He looked at them one by one.
"From now on, whenever you need to take a shit, you say it first."
Yulia let out a weak breath and tipped her head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
"I just hope I'll be able to do that on my own when the time comes."
Gord stood with his back to the wall, one shoulder pressed into the rotting stone. His eyes stayed on Moriana through the courtyard window.
"Say it, Zarius."
Zarius leaned forward again, resting both forearms on the decayed table. The wood creaked under his weight.
"I'll skip the buildup," he said."There are too many unanswered questions."
Outside—
Moriana sat in the inn's courtyard, legs stretched out, her breathing slow and measured.
A voice spoke beside her.
"May I borrow your coat?"
Moriana turned.
A woman stood there—mid-thirties, maybe. Thin to the point of fragility. Completely naked, with a thin line of hair running from her lower abdomen to cover her pubic area.
Moriana recognized her instantly.
The reflection.
The face she'd seen in the basin Yulia had handed her when she woke.
…Morgana.
"Didn't you hear me?" the woman snapped."Lend me your coat—and stop staring at me like that."