I didn’t know how to tell Eleni that I thought we were going to die. I sat there, sipping on my chai, but the sweet taste was soured by the truth. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but a fresh wave of nausea dizzied me every time I thought about everything that El and I had tried to build together, everything that was going to come crashing down, going to be snatched from us. My hand was slick with tears I had tried to desperately wipe away, but I could already feel more threatening at the corners of my eyes. It was just me then, in the disquieting silence of Rhodian’s café, the only sound a faint, half-hearted plunk of lyre strings from next door and the constant, soulless marching of a clock.

Eleni wasn’t more than ten minutes late, but even the familiar crack of the metallic heels of her boots on the grey flagstones didn’t reassure me like they normally did. She slung her sabre onto her shoulder and trudged over towards our table. I heard her breath hitch as she caught sight of me, my face pink and blotchy from my tears.

“Cal?” She whispered anxiously, taking my hand in hers. “What’s the matter?”

I didn’t know where to start. I wanted to tell her it was going to be okay, but…I didn’t think it was going to be okay. I listened to my breath quaking, and watched her through my blurring eyes, wondering whether I’d remember her, even if I never saw her again. I didn’t know how I was going to let go of her. Her perfect eyes, the way that her short ebony hair danced in the wind, how she kissed me every time we met, that cute little half-smile of hers.

I take a deep breath. “El… I need to talk to you about something. Something serious. But know that I love you, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah…of course Callia. There’s nothing we can’t solve together, is there?”

“Eleni. That’s the problem.” I said. I didn’t want to tell her what came next. I tried to steady myself, but tears were running down my face. “Babe, we can’t…be together anymore.”

“Cal…why?” she says, her voice wobbling, her bottom lip quivering as she wills herself not to cry.

“Because El, I am Princess Callia of the 43rd royal regiment of Seraphim Vale. And you…who are you?”

“Commander Eleni, 1st legion of Cleotonia.” She recites.

“Well…Commander Eleni…” I shudder, a shadow of a smile forced across my face. “Seraphim Vale and Cleotonia…are going to…have…declared war.”

I watched her brow furrow, her face clouded with something that was almost anger, but disbelieving confusion flickered in her eyes.

“Your father?” she asked, her words breaking as tears jabbed at her eyes.

“Your Emperor, El. Your goddamn Emperor Vasilis.” I roared in distraught rage. I’d never shouted at her before. Part of me wanted to believe that she could convince Vasilis to have mercy, but I knew that she hadn’t had any part in his counsel.

Callia…I love you. I love you. I love you. I will get you back if it’s the last thing I do.”

“El-” I say, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I love you too. I will always remember you.”

I hugged her then. Her breath on my cheek. Her body against mine. I didn’t want to let go. I felt her hands trace mine, and then our lips were pressed together and we were thirteen again, nothing but us and the shared thud of our heartbeats. But this was goodbye. I got ready for the end of our forever. Commander Eleni of Cleotonia. My El.

“Will I ever...see you again?”

“Maybe. Maybe someplace else, once it’s all over.”

The battlefield smelled how it always did - iron and sparks and earth and blood.

Sweat soaked so deeply into leather it would never come out. Smoke dragged itself across the low hills in dirty ribbons, and somewhere to Eleni’s left a man screamed until he didn’t.

Good. She needed the noise. Silence would have broken her.

“Hold the line!” she barked, her voice cutting clean through the chaos. “Shields up. You don’t advance until I say.”

The First Legion obeyed without question. They always did. Cleotonians were raised on discipline, obedience, baptized in prayer. They saw only their commander now: Commander Eleni, High Priestess Eleni, blade bare, jaw set, eyes burning.

They did not see her hands trembling beneath her gauntlets.

Across the field, Seraphim Vale banners snapped in the wind. White and gold. Too clean. Too familiar. Her chest constricted violently, and for half a heartbeat she imagined Callia standing behind one of those standards, chin lifted, face carved into calm.

No, she snarled inwardly. Don’t you dare put her here.

An arrow struck the ground at her feet, quivering like a living thing.

“Archers!” Eleni roared. “Return fire. Now!”

The sky answered in a hiss of death.

She moved forward then, not because it was wise, but because standing still felt like suffocating. Her sabre flashed, steel singing as it met steel. Every strike was precise. Every kill efficient. Rage lived in her muscles, not her mind. That was how she survived it.

A young soldier stumbled near her, blood blooming across his tunic.

“Commander—” he gasped.

Eleni caught him by the collar and shoved him back toward the medics. “You are in no shape for the frontlines. To the medics' tent,” she ordered. “That’s an order.”

He nodded, terrified, and ran.

Good. Let him be afraid. Fear kept you breathing.

The enemy pushed. Vale infantry, well-trained, resolute. Not monsters. Not villains. Just soldiers doing exactly what she was doing.

This is what they’ve made us, she thought. This is their holy war.

“Commander!” a lieutenant shouted. “We’re being flanked on the right!”

Eleni pivoted instantly. “Third cohort, wheel right. Don’t chase. Break them and fall back.”

“Yes, Commander!”

The title hit her like a blow.

Commander.

Her sabre met another blade, sparks flying. She shoved forward with a snarl that was almost animal, driving her opponent back until he tripped over a fallen shield. She hesitated for half a second.

Half a second too long.

His eyes were wide. Young. Terrified.

Eleni ended it anyway.

When it was done, she stood over the body, chest heaving, vision swimming red at the edges.

A horn sounded. Withdrawal. Temporary. Cowardly. Necessary.

Eleni raised her sabre, arm steady now, rage locked tight behind her ribs.

“Fall back in formation!” she commanded. “No one breaks. No one runs.”

The legion moved as one, disciplined, lethal, alive.

As they withdrew, Eleni looked once more toward the Vale banners, distant through smoke and fire.

I will get you back, she whispered behind her helmet, to a girl who was not here and might never be again. I will tear gods from their thrones if that’s what it takes.

And the battlefield swallowed the sound whole.