Faye's POV
The sight of him made my heart stop.
Hardy stood in the courtyard like a warrior pulled straight from a nightmare. His dark armor bore deep gashes, the metal twisted and stained with blood that had long since dried. Fresh cuts marked his arms, and every step he took left crimson prints on the stone beneath his feet. His broad shoulders carried a weight that spoke of battles fought and barely won, yet his red eyes still blazed with that familiar intensity.
Word of his return had barely reached the healers when I abandoned my post at the infirmary. I pushed through the gathering crowd, my pulse hammering against my ribs until I finally saw him. The first rays of dawn stretched across the fortress walls, marking the end of our third night under siege. We had made it through. But looking at him now, I understood that victory had demanded its price in blood.
