I woke slowly, like surfacing through wet wool.

  For a moment I y still, suspended between sleep and awareness, trying to remember where I was and why my body felt like it had been taken apart and incorrectly reassembled. My cheek rested against coarse fabric that smelled faintly of cedar, iron, and the herbal sharpness of the ointment I had mixed the night before.

  It took me a moment to understand why the angle felt wrong.

  This wasn't my bedroll.

  I pushed myself up on one elbow. The motion pulled at my fnk and sent a dull protest through my ribs, but the pain was distant now, manageable. Someone had tucked the bnkets close around me. My boots had been removed and set neatly beside the bedroll. My satchel sat within arm's reach.

  "Rocher?" My voice came out hoarse.

  No answer.

  I blinked away the st vestiges of sleep and took a look around.

  The tent was empty.

  Outside, something shifted—a low murmur, then a sharper whisper cut off mid-word. Fabric rustled. A boot scuffed against stone.

  I dragged myself from the bedroll's warmth and stood carefully. The ground felt colder than I expected. My bance wavered once before settling.

  For a moment, I stood there. Listening.

  The murmuring continued outside, subdued but tense. I caught something that sounded like my name.

  I moved to the fp and lifted it just enough to see through the gap.

  Seraphine was pacing in tight, furious lines, boots striking harder than necessary. Her braid had come loose; strands of red hair clung to her temples. Every few steps she stopped, pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, and resumed pacing like she might grind the ground smooth.

  Evelyn stood a few paces away, arms folded, frown deepening with each circuit.

  Lumiere and Rocher spoke in low tones, their hands raised in the universal posture of attempting calm.

  Seraphine was having none of it.

  "I did what I could," she hissed, voice pitched low but vibrating with restrained fury. "It's not my fault these idiots kept getting themselves killed."

  Rocher started to reply. Lumiere moved toward her urgently.

  But Evelyn's gaze snapped instantly to me.

  "Shh." She raised one finger in a sharp command.

  The others turned. The conversation cut off like a bde had severed it.

  I let the tent fp fall and stepped outside.

  "What's going on?" I asked, cautious.

  Lumiere inhaled, composure settling over her like a mantle. "I trust you had a good rest, sister."

  "I did," I said, clipped. "Now, will someone tell me what's going on?"

  For a second, her eyes darted to the others. One by one, they looked away.

  "While you were asleep," she continued, turning back to me, "Seraphine secured two more of Nyxara's anchor points."

  I blinked. "That's good news—"

  Seraphine made a short, humorless sound.

  "However." Lumiere's hands balled tight in her sleeves. "In the process, we lost nearly two dozen men. Some grievously injured. Some mortally so."

  The words nded like cold water.

  "How?" I turned to Seraphine. "You said you could handle it."

  The words came out sharper than intended. I heard the accusation in them the moment they left my mouth.

  Seraphine heard it too. Her chin lifted, eyes fshing.

  "I said I had a handle on the situation. And I did. What I didn't account for was their egos."

  Her hands clenched.

  "The padins broke formation. Charged the golems alone, like they were trying to prove something. When Sylvio attempted to drag one back, he got a bde in the gut for his trouble. Tomás and I had to carry him out while the rest..." Her jaw tightened. "...while the rest discovered what happens when you face a golem without a shield wall."

  My stomach dropped.

  "The first group wasn't like that," I said, almost protesting. "They followed orders. Coordinated well together—"

  "Some of ours were," Evelyn cut in.

  I stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably.

  "There were a handful of them," she continued. "I had to yank two away before they got gored. When I saw the vacant look in their eyes, I..." Her voice trailed off.

  I turned to Rocher with disbelief. "You said things went fine."

  "They did," he said quickly. "In the end, none of them got hurt." Rocher rubbed the back of his neck. "But now that I think about it, the reason I had to overextend so much was to rescue them."

  He frowned. "To me, it seemed like the usual nonsense. I've seen soldiers do stupid things to impress each other before."

  "We probably just got lucky with the first batch," Seraphine exhaled sharply.

  Her eyes narrowed. "Or maybe you took on every dangerous task before they had the chance to."

  I swallowed and looked past her.

  Something in my memory clicked into pce.

  Sylvio. Tomás. And all the rest in that first group.

  The easy familiarity. The ck of posturing. They had moved together without speaking.

  "They probably knew each other," I said slowly. "The same vilge, perhaps. At the very least the same order or training cohort."

  Seraphine looked up. "Why does that matter?"

  "Because," I said, "groups reinforce behavior. They decide which actions to reward. And which ones to correct."

  Lumiere's brow furrowed. "Sister, what are you saying?"

  I started to answer, but stopped. My mind was already turning elsewhere.

  "Did you notice anything off about them?" I asked. "Physically, I mean."

  Evelyn's head tilted. "Like what?"

  "A flush in the skin. Excess sweating. Maybe a tremor."

  She hesitated. "Well, yes... but those are all normal under exertion and stress. We all had that to some degree."

  "That's true." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "I have a theory, but there's only one way to know for sure—"

  Movement at the edge of my vision caught my attention.

  Benet. Only a sliver of him could be seen between a rowdy cluster of padins moving through camp.

  "Sorry," I said quickly. "I have to go."

  Rocher stepped forward immediately. "Cire—"

  "Just wait here," I called back. "I'll be back shortly."

  I didn't wait for his agreement.

  The knot of padins surrounded Benet. Their voices carried just enough to suggest ughter that didn't include him. He stood at the center, shoulders slightly hunched, smiling in a way that asked permission to belong.

  They noticed me before he did.

  A whistle cut the air.

  "Well now."

  "What do we have here?"

  "Excuse me." I stopped just outside their circle. "May I trouble you to borrow Sir Benet? I'd like to speak with him in private."

  One of them grinned. "Well if there's one thing he's blessed with, it's his good looks."

  Another nudged Benet's shoulder. "Save some for the rest of us, d."

  Benet flushed, eyes dropping.

  A broader man stepped into my path, swaggering.

  "If you’re looking for some company," he said, voice thick at the edges, "I guarantee you I can show a better time than he can."

  I squinted, taking his measure.

  Skin flushed high along the cheekbones. Sweat at the temples. Pupils dited. A faint sway, as though his center of gravity gged half a beat behind his body.

  He smelled faintly sour. Not like alcohol, though his demeanor suggested it.

  "I appreciate the offer," I said with a tight smile. "But I'll have to decline."

  The others chortled, eager for a show.

  The man's mouth twitched. He leaned closer, breath warm against my cheek. "Come on. Don't be like that."

  I looked past him, directly at Benet.

  Something in my expression must have carried urgency. He flinched.

  "I... I should go," he said quickly, ducking under an arm.

  They hooted.

  "Ladykiller!" someone called as he slipped free. "Don't forget about us when you're finished!"

  The bold one frowned, reaching for my wrist as I turned. "Hold on. I'm not done with you yet—"

  A rger hand caught his forearm first.

  "Greetings."

  I looked up at the voice that sounded like it wanted to break something.

  Rocher stood there, grip tight, his expression grim as stone.

  "I'm looking for a sparring partner," he said through gritted teeth. "Any of you care to join me?"

  The padin stared at him. He tried to wrench his arm back, but failed.

  I met Rocher's eyes. He jerked his head sharply toward the supply stacks beyond the tents.

  I nodded once, then hurried off.

  Sir Benet caught up beside me, breath uneven.

  "I'm sorry," he began. "About them. And about before. I—I was..."

  "Never mind all that," I said. "What were they talking to you about just now?"

  "Nothing." He paused. "They're just like that. They've been here longer than I have, and they're all in good standing with the Bishop. I just thought if I got in good with them..."

  "Benet."

  He swallowed.

  "They were ribbing me," he admitted. "For taking the full course of the antidote. I told them it wasn't fair. That I was given no choice in the matter."

  I slowed. "And why should that be a problem?"

  He looked uncomfortable. "Some of them have chosen not to take theirs."

  My stomach went cold.

  "They think it's a crutch," he said. "They said they should be able to best a mere fungus through discipline and regimen."

  I stared at him. "Who told them that?"

  His mouth opened, then closed.

  "Was it Bishop Halbrecht? Was that his idea?"

  "Not exactly," he said, voice small. "He only told us that the fungus was something the First Men used to smoke, to drive themselves into a battle fervor. That they weren't fearful or ashamed by the urge to fight and conquer. That that's what made them men."

  I closed my eyes briefly.

  To Halbrecht, I supposed it was simply another fascinating piece of culture.

  "Listen," I said slowly. "What the First Men took was not this—it was controlled. For one, it wasn't tainted with demonic miasma. And even still, they suffered madness. Scripture bmes it on demons, but I suspect it was a long-term effect of that habit."

  Benet looked at the ground. "Even so... everyone in the Fourth Choir stopped after the first dose, if they bothered to take it at all. They bmed the taste. Or said they wanted to test their mettle."

  I sighed bitterly. With the timeline as short as it was, the apothecaries and I hadn't had time to soften the blow.

  I pressed my palm against Benet's shoulder, causing him to look up. "And? What about you?"

  He blinked. "You know I took it. You were the one who administered it to me."

  "That's not what I'm asking," I said. "I want to know if you're okay."

  The question startled him. He stared back at me, wide-eyed.

  "Yes..." he said automatically. Then, softer: "I think so."

  "Good," I said. "Go then. Rejoin your friends. Make sure the Hero doesn't tear their heads off."

  He ughed weakly at that.

  He turned. Before he left he looked back, hesitating as if to say something, then shook his head.

  I let out a breath.

  From the corner of my eye, something shifted.

  "Did you catch all that?" I called out to no one in particur.

  Seraphine and Evelyn emerged from behind some supply crates.

  Lumiere followed, her fists clenched. She opened her mouth, but Seraphine spoke first.

  "Those idiots." Her voice shook with indignation.

  "It's not too te," Lumiere said. "I can still change their minds."

  "You can try," I said. "But unless you push the same buttons Halbrecht did—touch something core to their identity—you're unlikely to succeed."

  Her jaw set. "Then I will appeal to Halbrecht himself. Those were his words they've clung to; he must be the one to correct this."

  Evelyn arched a brow. "From everything we've seen of him, do you really think he's the sort to reverse himself? He may just double down instead."

  "Even so." Lumiere turned away, squaring her shoulders. "I have a duty to try."

  She strode off.

  I shot Evelyn a look.

  She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "All right, all right," she muttered, and went briskly after her.

  The space went still. Seraphine and I were the only ones who remained.

  She stood there, silent, her gaze fixed at the ground as if the earth might answer for the day.

  "Seraphine..." I stepped in front of her.

  No response. For a moment I was afraid she might turn away.

  I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around her.

  She gasped, going rigid for a heartbeat. Her hands floundered briefly at my sleeves.

  "I didn't mean to bme you earlier," I whispered. "This wasn't your fault."

  The tension left her all at once. I held her tighter, stroking her back.

  "I know," she said, voice breaking.

  Her breath shuddered against my shoulder.

  "I'm sorry."