"Lia…"
Alain's knees hit the floor beside her.
She didn't answer. Her hand was limp against the stone, pale beneath the soot. He pressed two fingers to her throat, barely a pulse.
The fire that had danced along his blade guttered, leaving only the faint warmth beneath his palm.
He brushed dust from her hair, streaks of grey mixing with the silver of ash.
"Come on," he whispered, voice catching. "You're still here."
He forced himself to steady his breathing. With all of his might, he dragged Lia to a safe clearing.
Without even a moment to breathe, a large screech resounded through the air. The steel beams above cracked.
Ceres groaned, the sound of etching sigils sharp and uneven. Even from the outside, Alain could see that the barrier was losing form.
He looked back once, then down at her again. "Just hold on a little longer, Lia."
Ceres knelt a few paces away, both palms pressed against the cracked floor.
Light spilled through his fingers, tracing thin, jagged lines that crawled up the walls, holding them in place but barely.
Sweat dripped from his chin. Each breath came sharper, the kind drawn through clenched teeth.
"Hold… just a little longer…"
The sound of shifting metal echoed above. Another roof beam screeched, tearing free by inches before the barrier caught it mid-fall.
The sigil's glow dimmed, then flickered back, weaker this time.
Ceres hissed under his breath, voice rasping from strain. "I can't maintain it. The output's collapsing."
He shifted his stance, dragging a finger through the dust to redraw a line that had burned out.
Alain turned toward him, the faint gold in his hand guttering. "Ceres—"
"Stay there." His tone snapped like cold iron. "If I release this, the whole car goes with us."
The glow around him pulsed in uneven intervals, light trembling against his skin. The once-elegant array now looked like a patchwork of sheer will.
A shard of glass fell from the ceiling, managed to slip through the barrier. It sliced Ceres on the arm, creating a large gash. Ceres grunted in pain and dropped to his knees, blood soaking his robes.
The next pulse of light sputtered—then stuttered out.
Alain ran forward, trying once again to ignite his sword. However, the metal gave as the sword shattered.
Above, the debris fell, inevitable and impending.
"Not yet…" he rasped, trying to force the pattern to reignite. Nothing. His vision blurred.
Alain flinched. He closed his eyes. It was over.
...
The air shifted. Alain opened his eyes. The beams were a few centimeters from his face.
A silver-blue light spread from outside the barrier, threading through the cracks. The sigil had flared back to life, supplemented and supported by these threads.
Ceres blinked, breath catching. "That flow…"
Alain followed his eyes, followed the traces, all of them pointed toward...Lia.
The mark on Lia's left hand glowed intensely bright.
ᛇ - Eihwaz
The suspended wreckage didn't fall.
It simply… stayed.
"Ceres, the survivors!" Alain yelled.
They didn't waste time.
Ceres pressed his palm to the edge of the dome; it thinned enough for him to step through, the surface rippling around his coat like water.
"Help me with them," he said, already moving toward the cluster of survivors trapped near the broken aisle.
Alain followed. His legs trembled under the strain, but they managed to retrieve everyone. All while the blue silver threads held the array still.
The last survivor stumbled clear, coughing into the cold night air.
Ceres stepped through the thinning barrier, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
"That's all of them."
Before Alain could speak, a low horn cut through the air. Then, hooves.
He looked up. Through the drifting haze of smoke and steam, figures emerged along the tracks. Armored silhouettes carrying lanterns that cut through the fog. The faint blue of lights shimmered along their pauldrons.
"The Finn crest," Ceres murmured, relief and fatigue tangled in his voice. "Took them long enough."
The front rider raised a hand. "By order of Duke Bertran Finn! If anyone's alive, identify yourselves!"
"Here!" Ceres called back, his voice hoarse. "Ceres Halden of the Aesir Division. Codename Heimdall."
A pause followed. Then the lead knight barked an order, and more figures dismounted, lanterns cutting through the fog.
Alain blinked, "Aesir Division? Heimdall?"
"Not now, we're in a rush," Ceres replied lazily.
He turned back toward Lia. "We need a stretcher." Then looked at the scene again, "Maybe many stretchers…"
***
The night had thinned to grey.
Smoke drifted across the torn rails, blurring the silhouettes of horses and lanterns.
The Finn knights moved in quiet rhythm: lifting debris, carrying stretchers, guiding the injured toward the waiting buses lined along the tracks.
Alain sat apart from it all, back against a cold wheel. Lia rested against his shoulder, still unconscious, her breathing shallow but even.
He hadn't realized he was still holding her hand until one of the knights passed by, giving him a cautious look. He didn't let go.
Across the clearing, Ceres stood among the officers, voice low but clear. The firelight turned the edges of his coat gold.
"...twenty-three confirmed alive, ten critical. The rest… unrecoverable. The Blighted attack originated from the east-bound line. The question is…how?"
The knight captain nodded grimly. "And your containment array?"
"Held," Ceres said. "Barely. One of the passengers provided auxiliary stabilization."
"Another Aesir operative?"
"No." His tone was quiet. "A civilian."
There was a pause. Ceres' shadow moved slightly as he looked toward him.
"She's stable for now. We'll need to run a medical assessment before she wakes."
"Should we take them to Public Care?"
"No, they're under mine and Tyr's authority."
"Understood," the captain nodded, and left hurriedly.
Ceres finally stepped back from the officers, exhaling. He approached slowly. "How's she?"
Alain swallowed. "Still breathing."
Ceres nodded once. "Good. Keep her warm until we move."
Then, almost to himself, "She saved all of us."
He then gestured to Alain, "Come on, we're moving to a Finn outpost. We can deal with things there."
***
The outpost came into view just as dawn broke. To Alain, it looked less like a fortress and more like a palace pretending to be one. Bridges of rune-lit stone connected tall spires; banners bearing the lion crest rippled above.
They moved through the gates in silence. Servants rushed forward with stretchers; healers in white gloves guided the wounded away with quiet precision.
Lia was lifted from his arms before he could protest. Ceres murmured something to the attendants, then placed a hand on Alain's shoulder. "She'll be safe."
He didn't know if he believed that.
They walked through a corridor of crystal lights. The walls were lined with portraits, saints, and scholars staring down in quiet judgment.
Alain caught his own reflection in the glass: dirt-streaked, hollow-eyed, out of place.
By the time they reached the main hall, his exhaustion had dulled into numbness.
The room opened wide; marble floors, gilded pillars, and an intricate circular table etched with runic sigils that shimmered faintly beneath the surface.
Several figures stood waiting, most in formal armor marked by faint traces of soot. Ceres joined them, giving a curt nod.
Alain followed, every instinct telling him he shouldn't be here.
The air shifted. Someone entered from the opposite archway.
The figure was tall, donned head to toe in full deep silver armor with golden accents, a long blue cloak trailing behind. The polished metal reflected light, creating a reflection of the room. He approached Ceres near the entrance.
Alain stood next to Ceres as he faced the armored behemoth.
When the armored head turned, Alain felt the air shift.
"Keeper."
Ceres inclined his head slightly. "Commander."