The dust settled slowly, and moonlight spilled over Godfall like cold silver, illuminating the bare patch of earth where Lieutenant Damascus had vanished. A hush hung heavy; no one spoke. Every eye fixed on the ground as though expecting it to spit him back up.
Captain Rosewalt's voice came low, almost to himself. "I never knew Damascus had that kind of power."
"That wasn't him," Sango answered quietly. He still held Tayo in one arm and supported Bachi with the other, the boys limp and blood-streaked against him. "Someone—or something—else did it. And they're not here."
Rosevelt's gaze stayed on the soil, eyes widening with slow realization. *What have you gotten yourself into, Lieutenant?*
He drew a sharp breath and turned to the crowd. "Everyone—evacuate the area now! This place isn't safe!"
No one moved. The townspeople stood frozen, a silent graveyard of statues, their malice thick enough to choke the night air.
"Why should we?" a man near the front called out. "We haven't gotten what we came for."
"We came to see that boy executed," another shouted, voice raw with anguish. "Found guilty of kidnapping—maybe murdering—four of our girls. Or do you expect us to just go home and pretend nothing happened?"
A woman stepped forward—the same mother who had struck Tayo—clutching her daughter tightly. "You're clearly unfit for the post, Captain. Maybe Lieutenant Damascus should take your place. He's impulsive, yes, but he gets results."
"Nobody is above the Town Action Code," another voice added. "We have the right to see both abominations punished—the black-skinned demon and that Rizzer troupe brat."
"And if you can't honor that," the woman finished, "then resign."
Silence fell, absolute and waiting. Every ear strained for Rosewalt's reply.
He exhaled slowly, then lowered himself to one knee, head bowed to the people he had sworn to protect.
"If it has come to that… I resign." His voice carried steady across the yard. "But I have one final request. Overrule the execution order. Let the boys leave Godfall unharmed."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, rising and falling for five long minutes while Rosewalt remained bowed, forehead nearly touching the dirt.
At last a voice rose above the rest. "Your request is granted—on two conditions."
Rosevelt did not lift his head.
An elderly voice cut throught the tension
"They must leave town before sunset tomorrow and never set foot in Godfall again."
"And you relinquish your post immediately. Lieutenant Damascus will replace you."
"Thank you," Rosewalt said, voice thick. "Thank you."
He stayed bowed, repeating the words softly, over and over. *I can't believe I'm trading my badge for children I barely know. But if losing it shows that boy even one shred of decency in this world… then it's worth it. He needs to know not everyone is the same.*
A gentle but firm hand settled on his shoulder.
"You can rise now, Rosewalt," Sango said quietly. "They're gone."
Rosevelt straightened, blinking into the empty yard. Torchlight flickered over abandoned pitchforks and scattered ropes.
"The kids?" he asked at once.
"Tayo passed out during the chaos. Bachi's got broken ribs—he's out too. They'll live."
Rosevelt gave a tired huff of laughter. "Jezz, Sango, you could've helped me talk them down."
"The battlefield's the only place I'm useful," Sango replied, solemn. "Diplomacy I leave to Leopold."
"Ugh. On the bright side, I've been needing a vacation." Rosewalt rolled his shoulders, flexing stiff arms. "Long overdue."
Sango's expression darkened. "Give me a moment."
He shifted both unconscious boys carefully, then extended his arms—one left, one right—forming a narrow X. At the tip of his right index finger a dim red light kindled, pulsing like a coal. With a sharp flick he sent it streaking into the night sky, where it vanished among the stars.
"All right," he said, leaning down to gather Tayo and Bachi more securely. "We can move."
Rosevelt glanced upward, then back at Sango. "I saw what you did. Will it kill them all?"
"No," Sango answered, voice grim. "Killing them now would plunge this town into chaos, and that's the last thing we need."
Far north of Godfall, deep in the tangled woods, an abandoned building crouched beneath the trees. Its weathered sign had once read "The Red Lantern," but time and neglect had stripped the paint to bare wood. Tonight, faint crimson light leaked from the cracked windows, pulsing gently, as though the ruin itself had begun to breathe.