ECHOES OF DEFEAT

The silence in the fortified citadel was heavy, a blanket of mourning. Asimil sat on the stone floor, leaning against the inner wall, struggling to stay conscious. The power of the Broken Echo Dagger had withdrawn, leaving behind an icy emptiness and a pain that seared into his bones. Beside him, Luce tended to Mio, whose breathing was shallow, almost nonexistent. All seemed lost.

Until one of Mio's fingers twitched.

His eyes opened, barely a slit, clouded with pain. He looked at Luce, then at Asimil.— No... — he whispered, each word a titanic effort that made him cough up blood. — Don't you dare... give up. —

Luce took her hand. — Mio, don't talk, you are very hurt. —

— Listen... — Mio insisted, a spark of her former strength burning in her eyes. — This... is just a test. The Void feeds on fear... on despair. If one Star of the Firmament can fall... then new stars... must rise. If I am not able to stand against it... you... you and your companions... can. I know. —

After saying that, her eyes closed again and she collapsed, her body finally giving in to exhaustion and injuries. She was not dead, but she was out cold. Her words, however, hung in the air, not as a command, but as a testament. A heavy burden of hope.

The next morning, the Bastion commander informed them that Mio would be secretly transferred to another, safer fortified city to the west, a sanctuary for healers.— You two will go with her — he said. — You are the only ones who have seen two Generals and survived to tell the tale. Your knowledge is vital. —

And so, with Mio's body being transported in an enchanted medical cart, Asimil and Luce departed, leaving behind the city they had helped save, their new journey marked by the weight of a fallen star.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles to the east, in the muddy trenches of a forgotten region, hope was a luxury that Ikel, Mitsu and Lyra could not afford.

They had been trapped in a nightmarish cycle for days. Wave after wave of Void minions attacked them. And with each attack, she appeared. Nyx. Not to kill them. To play.

Defeat after defeat. He would appear, eliminate their best defenders with insulting speed, dismantle their traps, and just as they were about to break, he would vanish, leaving only a black feather and the echo of a silent laugh. He was bleeding them dry, not their bodies, but their spirits.

They were in a makeshift camp, the air smelled of mud, blood and defeat. Lyra was exhausted, her mana almost at zero after healing the same wounded over and over again. Mitsu was sharpening his sword with a cold, silent fury, each pass of the whetstone a grind of frustration.

And Ikel... Ikel sat by an unlit campfire, staring into the ashes. The fire in his eyes, his personal trademark, had dimmed to a dying ember.

A flapping sound interrupted the silence. One of the Alliance carrier pigeons landed on Mitsu's shoulder. It carried a small scroll. A moment of tension. Perhaps it was good news. Reinforcements. A victory on another front.

Mitsu unrolled the scroll. He read it. His normally arrogant face contracted into a grimace of pure disbelief.— What is it? — Ikel asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Mitsu did not respond. He simply handed her the scroll. Lyra reached over her shoulder to read it.

Urgent Report from the Western Front: The Bastion of the Silver Needle has been attacked by Generals Legion and Ignis. The Firmament Star, Mio, has been defeated in combat. Condition: critical. Partial loss of the region is presumed.

The words fell on them with the weight of a mountain. Mio. The joyful and powerful Mio. Her symbol of hope, proof that the good guys could be strong. Defeated.

No one said anything. The silence in the camp was now that of a tomb. Ikel, the one who always had a joke, the one who always shouted that they would never give up, had nothing to say. This was far beyond him. He had been waiting for a miracle, a sign that they were not alone in this desperate struggle. But nothing was coming. In that remote region, the news of Ragnar's victory against Goliath never reached them. For them, the score was simple: Mio, defeated. The Stars of the Firmament were falling. And they were next.

Ikel lowered his head and clenched his fists, not in rage, but with a desperation so deep that it seemed to absorb all the light around him. Nyx's silent blade had not needed to touch them to deliver the deadliest blow of all.