First True Loss

The days blurred together as the siege dragged on. Snow piled along the walls and melted into slush where fire and blood had fallen, turning the ground into a gray, foul-smelling mire. Every morning the horns sounded, and every evening the bells tolled. It had been nearly two weeks since the enemy first descended on the fortress, and though the defenders still held, the weight of exhaustion pressed heavier with each passing dawn.

Akari could feel it everywhere. The air in the halls was colder, tighter, and filled with the scent of sweat. Laughter had vanished from the corridors, replaced by tired silence or clipped commands. Even the fires in the braziers seemed to burn lower now.

Noel threw himself into work the same way he always did. When he wasn’t on the front lines, he was bent over parchment, recording supplies, rotating guard shifts, or double-checking weapon counts. She saw the way his hands shook when he finally allowed himself to rest, but he never let anyone else see.

Akari tried to help where she could. Copying numbers in her mind, running messages, or just listening when Noel needed to talk things through. She wasn’t strong like the others, but she could at least share in his burden.

Lysandra had been different since Morrin’s death. She lived like her life depended on her performance in battles. She was casting spells until her voice broke. When she fought, her precision was sharper and colder. She rarely spoke now unless it was about orders.

Branek remained steady in character and strength, his voice carrying down the lines as he barked instructions and kept soldiers in order. No panic reached him; he was like the fortress itself, unyielding and firm.

Seren and Barkley were another story. Seren fought at the fiercest edges of battle, hurling earth and steel with reckless force. His rage burned brighter by the day, and Barkley’s growls often echoed alongside him.

Caldris poured his strength into barriers, shielding squads from arrows or fire. His spells left him pale and trembling, but he never faltered, even when sweat streamed down his face.

Mira and Ryoshin were almost always together now. Mira repaired weapons and distributed supplies, while Ryoshin made sure stockpiles were never left unguarded. They made a surprisingly balanced pair - Mira’s sharp pragmatism and Ryoshin’s soft charisma.

And Father Tharen moved among the wounded like a lantern in darkness. He prayed with them, dressed their injuries, and whispered comfort to those who would not rise again. His voice was steady even when his hands shook.

…

That evening, the soldiers gathered in the square for the casualty list. The ritual had become a grim routine. Priests unrolled parchment and began to read, their voices echoing against the frozen walls.

Each name landed like a stone in Akari’s chest. Dozens. Hundreds. She knew so few of them, but each carried weight all the same. Families, friends, comrades - all erased in an instant.

And then the voice rang out:

“Ansel Bosevell.”

The words flooded emotions through everyone who knew him.

Akari’s breath caught. She stood frozen, unable to move.

Ansel. Quiet, awkward Ansel who had blushed whenever she smiled at him. The young man who had wanted to be brave even when his knees trembled. She had thought he was safe in the backlines, away from the thickest fighting.

Her ears lowered, trembling. The parchment continued to unfurl, names following one after another, but she heard nothing else. The world felt distant, muffled, as if it had been wrapped in snow.

When the final name was read, the bells tolled. The crowd began to disperse in heavy silence.

High Priestess Serina had led the rites as she always did, her posture immaculate, and her words calm. But when the parchment was rolled and the last bell faded, her hands dropped to her sides. She bowed her head, shoulders quivering, and tears slipped down her face.

Lady Odrienne stepped beside her, laying a hand gently on the priestess’s arm. Serina did not move away, only pressed her lips together and wept silently.

It was the first time Akari had seen the regal woman break.

Something inside her gave way. Tears blurred her vision, and she pressed her face into Noel’s shoulder. “He’s gone… he’s really gone…”

Noel wrapped his arms around her, steady as ever, though she felt his chest rise with a deep, shuddering breath. His voice was low, meant for her alone. “I know. I know.”

His words did not erase the ache, but they anchored her. She clung tighter, letting the grief run its course until her sobs quieted.

…

Later, when they regrouped with the others, the air between them was heavy. No one spoke at first. Then Seren’s voice cut through the silence.

“Every day it’s the same. Another name. Another person, gone! And we sit here, waiting for the next.” His fists clenched at his sides. “I won’t stand for it. I’ll kill every last one of them until there’s nothing left but ash-”

“Seren.” Caldris’s tone was sharp, warning.

But Seren only raised his voice, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. They keep taking from us. Morrin, now Ansel. How many more until we do something? How many more until we make them pay?!”

The captain’s body trembled with fury. Caldris grabbed his collar.

And then Barkley moved.

The wolf darted forward and sank his teeth into Seren’s leg — not deep, not to wound, but firm enough to make him stumble back with a cry of surprise.

Everyone stared. Lysandra yelped when Barkley brushed past her and Branek straightened up to see the wolf spirit display true anger towards his partner.

Seren froze, staring down at his partner. Barkley’s eyes were locked on him, unyielding, a low growl in his throat.

Seren’s energy was gutted out. The man’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered himself slowly, pressing a trembling hand to Barkley’s fur. His voice cracked, half a whisper. “…Even you?”

Barkley pressed closer, tail stiff, as if to say: Enough.

Caldris spoke then, his tone calm but edged with steel. “Anger is a weapon, Seren. Not a master. If you let it rule you, it will consume you long before the enemy does. You’ve seen it happen. Don’t follow that path, no matter what.”

Seren’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. The fire had gone out of him, leaving only exhaustion.

The silence stretched until Caldris finally gave the order for them to disperse. They obeyed without a word.

…

That night, snow drifted down over the fortress, soft and unbroken. Akari lay curled beside Noel, staring at the ceiling of the small chamber they had been given. The day’s grief pressed heavy on her chest.

Morrin. Ansel. Two names carved into memory now.

Every evening, the list grew longer. Every evening, the fortress grew emptier.

She shivered and pressed closer to Noel, afraid of what tomorrow might take.

For the first time, she understood: the siege had only begun to take from them.

And it would not stop until the walls themselves gave way.