Chapter 7 — The Victory Without Their Names

That's the part people left out.

Years before the black envelope, before the Council started talking about my future like they'd already bought it, the three of us were sent to Aster Vale.

It was supposed to be simple.

Nothing involving ancient monsters.

Nothing involving collapsing walls.

And, according to Cassian, absolutely nothing involving me improvising.

“I mean it,” he said as our transport descended toward the border city. “For once, follow the plan.”

“I always follow the plan.”

Seris looked up from the old field journal in her lap.

Cassian looked at her.

She looked at him.

Then both started laughing.

“I hate travelling with you.”

“No, you don't,” Seris said.

I pointed at her.

“You're overusing that.”

“Still true.”

Aster Vale sat between two mountain ridges, all red roofs and white defensive towers. Beyond it lay the northern border, where cracks in the upper atmosphere sometimes leaked celestial energy into the world.

Usually, the city handled it.

Usually.

The alarm bells started before we landed.

A soldier came sprinting across the platform.

“Commander Vale!”

Cassian straightened immediately.

That was something I always admired about him.

One second he could be making fun of me.

The next, the battlefield belonged to him.

“What happened?”

“Celestial breach over the eastern wall. Something came through.”

“How large?”

The soldier hesitated.

A shadow passed over us.

We all looked up.

“Oh,” Cassian said.

The thing above Aster Vale looked like someone had tried to build an angel from broken glass and forgotten what angels were supposed to look like.

Six wings turned around a hollow body.

No head.

No face.

Just a ring of white fire where its chest should've been.

Every time its wings moved, buildings below cracked.

Seris shut her journal.

“That isn't natural.”

I drew Epitaph.

“Glad we established that.”

The aberration screamed.

Windows burst across three streets.

Cassian grabbed my shoulder before I could take off.

“No.”

“I haven't done anything.”

“You were about to.”

“It was going to be impressive.”

“It was going to be stupid.”

Seris pointed toward the eastern towers.

“Argue later.”

Cassian's eyes moved across the city.

Walls.

Bridges.

Towers.

Evacuation routes.

I could almost see the pieces moving behind his eyes.

Then he started giving orders.

“Get every civilian west of the central canal. Mages to towers three through seven. Don't attack the body.”

The soldier blinked.

“Sir?”

“You heard me.”

Cassian pointed at the aberration.

“It's reacting to magic. Every time someone fires at it, the breach above us gets wider.”

I looked up.

He was right.

Of course he was.

“What do you need me doing?”

Cassian glanced at Epitaph.

“Be distracting.”

I stared at him.

Seris smiled.

“Finally, something you're qualified for.”

“I liked you better in the archive.”

“No, you didn't.”

Cassian shoved me toward the edge.

“Go!”

I jumped.

My wings opened.

The aberration noticed me almost immediately.

Maybe it was Epitaph.

Maybe my Soul Crown.

Maybe I just had a gift for annoying things much larger than me.

A beam of white fire tore through the air.

I rolled aside.

“That's rude!”

The second beam hit a tower.

Stone exploded.

Below, Cassian's soldiers moved exactly where he'd sent them.

Nobody fired.

The creature followed me.

Good.

I pulled it north.

Then east.

Then back toward the empty military quarter.

Every movement drew it farther from the evacuating civilians.

Cassian wasn't fighting the monster.

He was fighting the battlefield.

And winning.

Then Seris shouted through the communication crystal at my collar.

“Zyrion!”

“Busy!”

“The body isn't real!”

A burning wing nearly cut me in half.

I dropped beneath it.

“Feels real!”

“It's an echo!”

“Seris!”

“The anchor isn't inside it!”

That made me stop joking.

Celestial aberrations needed anchors.

Something physical tied them to our world.

Destroy the anchor, destroy the manifestation.

“Where?”

“I'm finding it!”

Another beam.

I blocked.

Bad idea.

Epitaph caught the magic, but the impact threw me through the roof of a watchtower.

For a moment, all I saw was dust.

Then Cassian's voice crackled through the crystal.

“Still alive?”

I coughed.

“Unfortunately.”

“Good. Keep it angry.”

“You're enjoying this.”

“Little bit.”

I climbed through the broken roof.

The aberration turned toward me.

Below it, Cassian had rearranged nearly the entire defence force.

Three mage units held barriers instead of attacking.

Archers were firing mundane iron bolts toward its wings, irritating it without feeding the breach.

Civilians poured across the western bridges.

Thousands of them.

Safe because Cassian had understood the problem in minutes.

“Found it!” Seris shouted.

“Where?”

“The bell tower!”

I looked across the city.

There were twelve.

“Which one?”

“The old one!”

“Seris!”

“The one leaning!”

That somehow helped.

Near the southern wall stood a narrow stone tower that looked like it had been losing an argument with gravity for several centuries.

Cassian came over the crystal.

“Zyrion, can you drive it south?”

“Probably.”

“I hate that answer.”

“So do I.”

I launched myself upward.

The aberration screamed and followed.

Perfect.

Cassian's voice changed.

Calm.

Sharp.

“Units four and six, collapse the eastern lane on my signal. Barrier teams, make a corridor. Zyrion, don't get clever.”

“I never get clever.”

“That's what scares me.”

The barriers rose.

Great walls of blue-white light formed a path across the city.

I flew through it.

The aberration chased me.

“Now!”

Buildings at the far end were brought down after the last civilians cleared them, sealing every turn except south.

The creature had nowhere else to go.

Cassian had turned an entire district into a funnel.

I laughed.

“Show-off.”

“I heard that.”

The old bell tower came into view.

Seris stood on its balcony.

My heart stopped.

“What are you doing up there?!”

“Research!”

“THAT ISN'T RESEARCH!”

She ignored me and slammed her hand against an old celestial inscription beneath the bell.

Golden symbols appeared.

The aberration convulsed.

There.

Behind the tower.

A thread of white light stretched from the creature into the ancient bell.

The anchor.

“Zyrion!”

“I see it!”

The aberration turned toward Seris.

No.

I folded my wings.

Dropped.

Then pushed everything I had into one dive.

Epitaph's first three sigils lit silver.

The creature fired.

I went through the beam.

My coat burned.

Feathers tore loose.

Pain hit everywhere.

Still I kept going.

Because Seris was behind me.

Because Cassian had built the opening.

Because thousands of people were still running beneath us.

I reached the bell.

Epitaph struck.

The anchor split.

For one second, the whole sky went white.

Then the aberration shattered.

Pieces of light fell across Aster Vale like snow.

By sunset, the city still stood.

The next morning, they held a victory ceremony.

I didn't want one.

Nobody cared.

Thousands filled the central square.

Seris stood on my left.

Cassian on my right.

The governor stepped forward.

“Yesterday, Aster Vale faced destruction.”

Cassian shifted awkwardly.

I smiled at him.

This was his victory.

They were about to hear it.

“Our walls failed. Our weapons failed. But one warrior stood between our people and annihilation.”

My smile faded.

The governor turned toward me.

“The Star-Chosen!”

The square exploded.

“ZYRION!”

I looked at Cassian.

He smiled.

Actually smiled.

Then clapped me on the shoulder.

So I told myself it was fine.

Later that night, it wasn't.

I found him alone in the command room, holding the official battle report.

“What happened?”

He handed it to me.

I read the first page.

Then the second.

My stomach sank.

The report described my battle in ridiculous detail.

My dive.

Epitaph.

The final strike.

Seris got one line for identifying “an anomalous magical weakness.”

Cassian got nothing.

Not his evacuation.

Not the barriers.

Not the funnel.

Nothing.

I flipped back.

“Your name isn't here.”

“I noticed.”

“This is wrong.”

He laughed quietly.

Not because it was funny.

“I saved them too.”

“I know.”

“Do they?”

I didn't have an answer.

Cassian took the report back.

For a moment, I thought he'd tear it apart.

Instead, he folded it carefully.

“Forget it.”

“I won't.”

He looked at me.

“You don't control what they write, Zyrion.”

“No. But I can tell them.”

“And then it'll become another story about how humble the Star-Chosen is.”

That hurt.

He saw it immediately.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

We stood there in silence.

Then he smiled again.

Smaller this time.

“Told you being famous sounded exhausting.”

I laughed.

He did too.

And I believed we'd moved past it.

That's another thing memory enjoys doing.

It shows you the exact moment a crack formed, then reminds you how casually you walked over it.

The world called Aster Vale the Star-Chosen's victory.

Years later, statues showed me standing alone beneath falling light.

No Cassian.

No Seris.

Just me.

Back then, I thought being given too much credit was embarrassing.

I didn't understand what it felt like to have your name removed.

Cassian did.

Long before history erased me...

it practiced on him first.

I know now.