I try to run, but my body betrays me. I can’t—my legs won’t carry me, my muscles are too worn. So instead, I walk, each step a struggle against the agony that claws at me from every direction. A stone, hurled from a trebuchet, slams into the wall a mere few feet away, and I’m thrown off balance, tumbling from the parapet. My helmet is gone, I don’t know where. I don’t care. I should be dead, but somehow I’m not. A miracle. Or perhaps a curse. The Gods are not content with my suffering, yet.

  Explosions rattle the air, screams and shouts echoing from every corner of the city. I glance down—blood. Too much blood. My right leg… It’s broken, I’m sure of it. My vision swims in and out, every breath a burning knife in my chest. Each step feels like walking on fire. But I can’t stop. I have to keep moving. If I don’t, I’ll die here. I’m just a common soldier, after all. No one will spare me. I am nothing.

  For a moment, the idea crosses my mind. What if I shed my armor? It’s broken beyond use, and it’s heavy. If I could somehow blend in, pretend to be a civilian, perhaps I might survive. It feels cowardly, but I’m too tired to care about honor now. The only thing that matters is survival. But would it work? Would they care? I doubt it.

  I’ve seen the enemy. I’ve seen the orcs. Hundreds, thousands, a legion marching with terrifying unity. The tribes of the Mist Forest had never cared about the politics of men and elves. They were too busy fighting amongst themselves. But now? Now, they march side by side with elves and men. What were they promised? By whom?

  I stop, blood trickling from my mouth, and cough. The sound is sickening. Another explosion—louder this time, and I hear the thud of something massive hitting the ground. A shockwave slams into me, nearly knocking me over, followed by the sickening sound of stone and metal crumbling. The southern walls are gone. Breached.

  We can’t win. We never could. The Emperor has forsaken us.

  Around me, the civilians who stayed behind are in full panic. They rush from their homes, scattering like ants, running towards the bridge at the center of the city. Some left when the rebellion first began—too few to matter, but they were the smart ones. The rest, though? They laughed, called them cowards. They were wrong. After the Battle of the Daughter, when our forces were shattered not far from the Capital, no one laughed. And now, even if only one out of every ten people stayed behind, in a city of over a million and a half, that’s tens of thousands trapped in the same doomed place. No one left to help them.

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  The walls of Yerev have held for a century and a half. But today, for the first time, they’ve been breached. I glance back, my heart sinking.

  They are coming.

  From the gaping hole in the southern wall, they pour in. Orcs, men, elves. A wave of destruction. At the head of them, a woman—dark-skinned, a Yusundali, I think. She’s the biggest woman I have ever seen. She wields a warhammer that should be too heavy for any mortal to carry with a single hand, but she does. She’s crowned, too. A queen, apparently. Since when is Yusundal ruled by a queen? It doesn’t matter now. She’s screaming, her face a mask of rage and bloodlust.

  They’re running straight for me. And I know—there’s no way I can outrun them. So I turn. Maybe I can face this with some semblance of courage, but my legs tremble, and my heart hammers in my chest.

  I’m scared. So scared. My hands shake uncontrollably around the hilt of my sword. My stance is weak. Pathetic. I can’t do this. I piss myself.

  The hammer swings. Faster than I thought possible. I raise my sword to block, but it shatters through it like it’s made of paper. My armor, my bones, everything—gone in an instant. The world twists as I’m thrown aside like a ragdoll, pain exploding everywhere.

  Everything fades to ringing. There’s no more sight, just the constant thrum in my skull, and a few distant screams. Every inch of my body burns with agony. I know it’s the end.

  I wonder if my family made it out in time. Or if they’re on that bridge now, with the rest of the civilians, waiting for their turn to die.

  I’m getting cold. Why has the Emperor abandoned us?

  Darkness. Absolute darkness. The pain is gone.

  I am somewhere. Nowhere. A void of pure silence. But in the distance, I see it. A tree. Massive. Bigger than any tree should be. A mountain more than a plant. Its branches are laden with glowing fruit—bright, gold, pulsing with light. It calls to me.

  A voice—soft, feminine—speaks in my mind.

  Don’t you want to eat it?

  I do. I need to. It’s all I can think about now. I start walking, my legs moving of their own accord. There are others around me, I feel them, but I can’t see them. I walk for what feels like an eternity, but I don’t care. Only the tree matters. Only the fruit.

  Finally, after what seems like years, I reach it. I climb, my hands aching, my limbs weak, but I climb. I don’t know how long it takes, but I reach the fruit. It’s so beautiful. Golden, glowing, so inviting. I bite into it.

  It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted. Sweet. Warm. I devour it, hunger consuming me.

  And then, everything turns white. Blinding light. The tree is gone, the world vanishes. I can’t see. I can’t feel.

  And then… I wake up.