A few days later, dawn cracked over the Outpost like a silent promise. The watchtowers shimmered in the early haze, and merchants began pushing carts through the muddy streets.
Inside Janzo's lab, Talon shifted restlessly, waking to the soft clatter of glass vials. Janzo was already up, meticulously stirring a thick, dark tonic.
She sat up, hair falling into her eyes. "You never stop, do you?" she teased, though her voice carried a quiet affection.
Janzo glanced back, lips twitching. "Science doesn't sleep. Besides… you needed rest more than I did."
Talon rose and stepped closer, fingers lightly brushing his arm. "Thank you. For everything. I've been running so long I almost forgot what it felt like to have a moment like this."
Before Janzo could answer, General Storms burst in, breathless, cloak damp with morning dew. His eyes were wild — a storm brewing behind them.
"They're coming," he blurted out.
Talon straightened immediately. "Who?"
Tony's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "The same group that chased the Blackbloods before. New mercenaries… old loyalists of Dred. They're hunting you, Talon. Tonight."
Janzo's hand trembled around the flask. "How do you know this?"
Tony looked at them both, his gaze sharp as an arrowhead. "Because I intercepted one of their scouts at the north ridge. He was carrying orders to bring you back alive… or pieces of you if needed."
A heavy silence fell.
Talon clenched her fists. "Then we fight."
Janzo looked horrified. "Fight? Here? The people—"
Tony stepped forward, face hardening. "If you run, they'll burn this entire Outpost to the ground. Garrett might try to stall them, but he's alone now. We need to act, and we need to act tonight."
Talon's eyes shifted from Tony to Janzo. "Get your potions. Poison, smokes, anything that can turn the field. We can't just wait for them to arrive at our doorstep."
Janzo gulped, nodding as he began packing his alchemy supplies with trembling hands.
Tony turned toward Talon again, a strange flicker in his gaze — something deeper than strategy. "This isn't just another fight, Talon. You need to survive this. You need to show them that a Blackblood is more than their myths and hate songs."
Talon touched her kinje mark, feeling it burn faintly under her skin. "I will. But not alone."
Meanwhile ...Outskirts of the Outpost
Garrett stood atop the outer wall, cloak whipping in the cold wind. Below, he watched the dark silhouettes of mercenaries gathering like storm clouds in the early fog. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword.
His mind echoed with Rosamund's voice, old memories of her warmth and promises that never held.
But Talon… Janzo… they still had a chance to build something beyond all the broken oaths and blood debts.
Garrett turned to the nearest scout. "Tell the guards to double the gates. Warn every household to stay inside at nightfall. Tonight, we hold the line or die trying."
The scout bolted off. Garrett stood there alone, watching death approach inch by inch.
End Scene ... Night Descends
As twilight bled across the Outpost, Talon strapped on her battered armor piece by piece, each plate echoing like a war drum.
Janzo handed her a small vial, his hand shaking. "Drink this before you go. It will help numb any wounds — at least for a little while."
Talon took it, eyes soft. "Thank you, Janzo."
She turned to Tony, who adjusted his cloak, stuffing small knives and strange gadgets into hidden pockets.
Tony met her gaze, unwavering. "Whatever happens tonight… don't hold back. You're not alone anymore."
Outside, the first war horns cried through the valley.
Talon stepped forward, her kinje beginning to glow faintly beneath her skin, eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"Let them come," she whispered.