The scream split the dusk.
Ledo's cry rang down the narrow alley, ragged with terror.
The soldier's dagger gleamed as it raised — a sliver of fire catching in the fading light. He grinned cruelly.
A shape emerged from the far end of the alley, limping, monstrous in silhouette. Blood-soaked. Axe in hand. Eyes wild with something not quite human.
Rian.
The axe hit the first soldier mid-rib, carving through armor like rotten wood. The man screamed — a high, shocked noise — before he collapsed, twitching, weapon clattering against the cobblestones.
Ledo's breath caught.
Rian's chest heaved. He stood crooked, like one leg couldn't bear weight. His face was a smear of red and grime. He looked at Ledo — really looked — and spoke.
His voice was cracked glass and broken bones. Words torn from rusted machinery.
"Run."
