The moon remained suspended above the highlands.
Its silver light spread silently across the Northern camp.
Above the entire encampment...
The White Dragon banner still stood raised above the central tent.
Unchanging.
Beneath that silent shadow...
Sèsinmè walked.
Her white robes still bore stains scattered along the hem.
The blood had dried.
But it was still there.
The cold wind swept through the corridors between the tents.
There were no longer messengers running.
Nor officers passing along orders.
Now...
The paths belonged to the healers.
"Make way!"
A stretcher crossed in front of her.
The man lying on it breathed with difficulty.
Each breath seemed heavier than the last.
Beside him, a knight gripped his hand tightly.
"Keep breathing."
"We're almost there."
Another group appeared right behind them.
One of the soldiers kept his hands pressed against his companion's abdomen.
Blood seeped through his fingers.
"Healer!"
The voice cut through the night.
"Here!"
"He's losing too much blood!"
No one answered.
They were all already occupied.
The stretchers kept arriving.
Some disappeared among the healers' tents.
Others...
Continued toward the long rows covered by white sheets.
Near one of them...
A young soldier squeezed his companion's arm so tightly that the color had drained from his knuckles.
"Everything will be alright..."
His voice faltered.
On the other side, a healer slowly brought a red-hot iron closer.
The smell of scorched flesh spread through the air.
The young man's body arched violently.
His free hand found his companion's shoulder.
His fingers dug into the armor.
A muffled groan escaped through his clenched teeth.
"Hold on."
"Just a little longer."
A few steps farther...
Two men carried a third, drenched in blood.
One of them stumbled.
He almost fell.
"No!"
"Get up!"
"We're close!"
The man planted his feet once more.
They moved on.
Sèsinmè kept walking.
Farther ahead...
Selvaria remained kneeling.
Her hands joined before her chest.
Her head bowed.
The torchlight painted soft reflections across her ivory-white armor.
Her lips moved almost imperceptibly.
Before her...
Long rows of bodies remained aligned beneath white sheets.
Two knights approached carrying another companion.
They slowed their steps.
They remained still.
Neither of them dared interrupt the prayer.
Only when she finished...
Did they carefully lower the body beside the others.
They covered his face.
One of the men kept his hand on the sheet for a few moments.
"May the gods guide his soul..."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
The two of them briefly bowed their heads.
Then returned the way they had come.
Behind them...
Two more soldiers were already waiting, carrying another.
None of those rows seemed to grow any shorter.
Sèsinmè continued.
The metallic sound of a spoon struck the bottom of a pot.
Near a campfire almost reduced to embers...
Garrick remained seated among his own men.
The same pot passed slowly from hand to hand.
"Eat."
"We'll need our strength tomorrow."
The knight beside him merely lowered his head.
He kept holding the bowl.
Without touching the broth.
Another man remained motionless.
His eyes lost in the flames.
"I still expect to see him come back..."
No one answered.
The crackling of the fire replaced the words.
Garrick lowered his eyes.
He took a single spoonful.
Farther ahead...
One of the tents remained open.
León sat on a makeshift bench.
A healer slowly tightened the fresh bandage around his shoulder.
The marks of battle still covered part of his arm.
"It's going to burn."
León did not even look away.
"Continue."
The healer nodded.
He tightened the bandage harder.
Not a single muscle in León's face wavered.
His gaze remained fixed on the movements throughout the camp.
For a brief instant...
His eyes met Sèsinmè's.
Neither of them showed any surprise.
She held his gaze only for the length of a single step.
Then she continued.
Beside another tent...
Zion rested one hand on his knee while a healer carefully replaced the bandages wrapped around his fingers.
His skin had split open in several places.
Still...
His other hand still rested upon his bow.
As though refusing to let go of it.
The healer looked up at him.
"You need to rest."
Zion remained silent for a few moments.
His hand tightened slightly around the bow.
"When the commanders rest..."
A brief pause.
"I will rest."
A few steps farther...
Tristan finished tightening the knot of his own bandages.
He slowly flexed his arm.
Pain crossed his face for a brief instant.
Even so...
He put his armor back on.
A knight approached.
"You should be sleeping."
Tristan finished adjusting the armor.
"The commanders are still awake."
The man remained silent.
Tristan fastened the final buckle.
The man did not insist.
He continued on his way.
Leaning beside a wagon...
Ryou remained seated.
Her two swords rested crossed over her legs.
The whetstone slid slowly along the steel.
Once.
Again.
And once more.
The harsh sound blended with the groans scattered throughout the camp.
She did not even raise her eyes when Sèsinmè passed.
She continued sharpening the blades.
Sèsinmè moved on.
The closer she came to the central tent...
The less movement there was.
The few knights who crossed her path merely inclined their heads discreetly.
No one found words for that night.
Still...
The camp remained awake.
In the distance...
Another stretcher crossed the passageways.
"Make way!"
"Careful!"
"Call another healer!"
A gust of wind swept through the camp.
Sèsinmè's long hair swayed gently behind her.
The air carried with it the scent of iron...
Ash...
Blood...
And medicinal herbs.
A scent that, that night...
Seemed to seep into every part of the camp.
Before the entrance to the tent...
Two knights of the White Order recognized her approach.
They immediately stepped aside.
Sèsinmè remained still for a brief instant.
Her eyes turned back one last time.
Hundreds of tiny flames spread among the tents...
Like stars fallen upon the earth.
She held that vision for only an instant.
Then she turned toward the entrance of the tent.
She pulled aside the heavy curtain.
The sounds of the camp remained outside.
Inside...
A heavy silence.
Dense.
Almost suffocating.
Only the quiet flickering of the oil lamps broke the stillness of the tent.
Sèsinmè advanced without haste.
The sound of her footsteps seemed to dissolve into the walls of the tent.
Her gaze slowly wandered across the room.
Roven remained silent.
His arms crossed over his chest.
His expression unreadable.
On the other side of the table...
Reinhardt kept his hands clasped behind his back.
His posture remained impeccable.
His eyes remained fixed on the small markers spread across the map.
At last...
Her gaze found Cassian.
Both hands rested upon the table.
The map lay open beneath his fingers.
He did not raise his eyes.
Sèsinmè stopped before the table.
Soon, her voice broke the stillness of the tent.
"You requested my presence..."
"Lord Cassian."
Silence remained between them.
For a brief instant...
Nothing changed.
Then...
Cassian spoke almost in a whisper.
"For a kingdom to survive..."
He slowly raised his head.
His golden eyes met Sèsinmè's silver-gray eyes.
"Someone must always walk to the altar first."
The silence lingered for a few moments.
Cassian stepped away from the table.
The tension in his shoulders remained unchanged.
"Forty-four thousand, eight hundred and seventeen men marched toward Arkhel."
"Twenty-seven thousand, nine hundred and seventeen will never return."
No emotion crossed his face.
But his voice grew heavier.
"Three thousand, five hundred and fifty are still fighting between life and death."
A brief pause.
"Thirteen thousand, three hundred and fifty men..."
"Will return to knock on the doors of fathers... wives... children..."
"And tell them that those who marched beside them will never come home."
Sèsinmè's expression remained unchanged, betraying no emotion.
Cassian continued.
"When you chose to remain silent..."
"Did you look at them... or only at the path you had chosen?"
Sèsinmè remained silent for a few moments.
Then she answered.
"If I had told you..."
"What would you have done?"
A brief pause.
"Would you have changed destiny..."
"Or merely the place where those men would die?"
No one answered.
Only the flickering of the oil lamps.
Sèsinmè held Cassian's gaze.
"Knowing of a tragedy..."
"Does not mean possessing the power to prevent it."
Cassian remained motionless.
His eyes never left hers.
"Even so..."
"I believe those men deserved to know."
Cassian's jaw tightened.
"They marched believing they would face another army."
"Not monsters."
"Not something they could not even comprehend."
The tension became almost tangible.
Sèsinmè did not waver.
"The world ceased to belong to men..."
Her voice remained calm.
"A very long time ago, Lord Cassian."
Reinhardt remained silent for a few moments.
His eyes stayed on the map.
"Perhaps you are right."
No one interrupted him.
"I lived before the gods."
"I fought during the Divine War."
A brief pause.
"I saw men die believing they were saving the world."
"And I saw men die to destroy it."
His gaze slowly lifted.
It found Sèsinmè.
"Destiny cares very little for our desires."
"On that..."
"I agree with you."
Silence remained.
Then his voice became even lower.
More careful.
"What I do not understand..."
His eyes never left hers.
"...is why you chose to remain silent."
"Because there is a difference..."
No emotion crossed his face.
"Between accepting a tragedy..."
"And leading it."
The air seemed to grow heavier.
"Much blood was spilled during the Divine War."
"Much blood was spilled in rituals."
"Much blood was spilled to awaken that which..."
The flames of the oil lamps flickered softly.
For a brief instant...
The shadows on the walls seemed to move.
"...should never have awakened."
"So tell me..."
For the first time...
There was a different weight in his voice.
"What exactly..."
"Do you intend to do with the blood of these men?"
Silence settled over the tent.
Sèsinmè held Reinhardt's gaze.
Not a single muscle in her face moved.
"I believe..."
Her voice remained serene.
"That there is a misunderstanding in your words."
Before Reinhardt or Cassian could answer...
Another voice crossed the tent.
"The misunderstanding..."
Roven's voice came calmly.
"Is believing that no one would notice."
Sèsinmè slowly turned toward Roven.
The silence between them lasted only an instant.
"Are you implying something..."
Her voice remained as serene as before.
"Or do you finally intend to say it before everyone?"
Roven smiled faintly.
"For years I lived surrounded by men..."
The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"Who smiled while preparing a knife for my back."
A brief pause.
"After some time..."
"You learn that intention almost always arrives before betrayal."
His gaze remained on Sèsinmè.
"It was exactly the same feeling I had when you entered that tent..."
"Bringing a way to save Kaizer."
Roven slowly raised his hand.
His fingers rested for a moment upon the cloth covering the right side of his face.
"And when those presences answered the ritual..."
His voice became even lower.
"I was certain."
The air inside the tent seemed to grow heavier.
"Lady Sèsinmè."
A brief pause.
"Did you truly need me..."
"To save Kaizer?"
His fingers remained motionless upon the bandage.
"Or did you only need someone..."
"To share the price of touching the Abyss?"
Sèsinmè remained silent for a few moments.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
"I see your suspicions have gone farther than I imagined."
Her gaze slowly passed over the three men.
"I believe it is time to put an end to the speculation."
Her eyes came to rest on Cassian.
"But before that..."
"There is one final warning I must give you, Lord Cassian."
Cassian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sèsinmè continued.
"I'm afraid the end of this war..."
A brief pause.
"Will not please the Northern Kingdom."
The quiet crackling of the oil lamps once again filled the tent.
The silence became almost suffocating.
Not one of those present looked away.