The Concord announced a humanitarian corridor—safe passage for refugees, guarded and neutral.
Athena knew it was a lie the moment she heard it.
She went anyway.
At dusk, the corridor became a slaughterhouse. Hidden artillery. Crossfire. Panic erupting into screams.
Athena Ravenwood stood where the killing was thickest. She fought not to win, but to hold. Every second she bought was another life escaping behind her.
From a distant ridge, Marshal Rask observed through binoculars.
"There," he said quietly. "That is how legends die."