Sinmartin shoves Triminiv forward as the city quakes under the weight of battle.

  The guards are eager to scatter, but he keeps the group from breaking apart.

  “Our President is an idiot.” He sneers, snatching Triminiv by her twisted ear. “You gonna join that battle, Elf of Death?”

  A soldier sps the Officer’s hand off Triminiv. “Keep away from the prisoner.”

  Sinmartin gres at the young man as he rubs his palm. “She’s my prisoner,” He coldly states. Triminiv remains silent, calmly watching the people of Rome flee to the edge of the city.

  They will find no safe haven. The exits are all sealed, and the military is still under the strict order to not let anyone leave the city. The chaos will have to remain contained for now.

  Sinmartin stumbles over a crack in the street as the city trembles again. Triminiv gnces at the marble statue hanging from the tower overlooking her and the guards. It crumbles off the ledge and plummets toward Sinmartin.

  She leaps forward. “Split!” The high tone of voice slices the marble in half. Both ends of the statue nd just beside Sinmartin, only barely missing him.

  The guards are dumbstruck, Sinmartin even more so.

  “You, bitch!” He shouts with a red face. Triminiv folds her arms and stands defiantly.

  Sinamartin rises and dusts off his uniform. “You could have killed me!”

  Triminiv is not the only one who raises an eyebrow at the accusation.

  However, before she or the guards can defend her actions, a piercing wail cracks the air, and a swarm of bck follows it.

  The Qrows all squawk and caw out their battle cries as they descend onto the city.

  Diving into it like a hail of arrows, only to quickly unch up again like fish jumping from a ke. Galihend kneels amidst the fire of a smoldering ruin.

  She sharpens her obsidian bdes as the Qrows act as her eyes. She requires a full view of Rome for the battle to come. Her target is moving fast.

  She’ll need to isote them before they can get to the Pza.

  “Surround them…” She whispers to the Qrow atop her shoulder.

  The bird flies off to carry out the command.

  Smith pushes through the crumbling and burning streets of Rome, unaware that they are being watched from above.

  Anvil and them have made good progress toward the Pza, but it seems that everyone the pair comes across is in terrible danger.

  The fire caused by the light of the Fluoredon warrior that battled Adamus is spreading further and further through the city. Entire buildings are being consumed by it now, and many find themselves trapped by the fmes.

  Smith darts under a bzing underpass with Anvil to save those caught beneath the city.

  Anvil tosses off his coat. The blood from his chest leaks out to encase the fire in iron, but the act proves to be in vain. “Sibling-”

  “I got them!” Smith calls out as they tumble through the scorching heat and toward the family caught inside it. Smith rolls onto the floor, making sure to leave a trail of blood in their wake that becomes a wired rope to drag the family safely out of the fire.

  The family thanks Smith before running out of the underpass.

  The accomplishment hardly registers with them. They're far too lightheaded from the loss of blood to think of anything but getting to the Pza and saving as many lives as possible.

  Blood loss is getting to Anvil as well, although he is not one to show it.

  Water is suddenly spshed onto both of the pale Machinists. A small group of commoners sprint into the underpass with buckets of water in hand.

  One of the group stays behind. “I don’t know how you two did all of that, but we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

  The young woman sets her bucket down and gasps for breath. “You wizards wouldn’t have the power to make it rain, would ya?”

  “Wizards?” Anvil scoffs, already tossing his coat back on.

  “Sorry.” Smith lifts the bucket and hands it back to the woman. “I’m afraid that’s out of our skillset.” They force a tired smile on their face as the woman ughs.

  “Well, it was worth a shot.” She holds her palm out as the other commoners finish dousing the fire. “Valerie Sullivan.”

  Smith shakes her hand. “Smith, my brother over there is Anvil. We’d love to stick around, but-”

  “I understand.” Valerie nods. “It’s gotten pretty crazy out here. I’m just trying to help out where I-”

  Valerie’s sentence goes unfinished.

  The blood from her neck is on Smith’s face before she hits the floor.

  Their eyes go wide in horror as the flock of bck Qrows floods the underpass.

  Smith’s heart drops into their stomach. Their blood runs cold.

  This woman was alive just a second ago. How could someone be so cruel as to take that life without even looking at her?

  Smith is frozen. It is only when the blood drips from brow and into their eyes that they shout out in panic, “Anvil!”

  The man tosses off his coat and extends iron spikes from his scars, stabbing into the birds as Valerie’s group flees from the underpass.

  The attack is sadly ineffective.

  Another flock of Qrows hurtles itself into the underpass and swarms Anvil. The swarm of darkness swallows him whole, only to spit him back out.

  Smith is now alone in the underpass.

  Perfectly isoted with walls of murderous Qrows on both sides. Smith stumbles into the door of a locked wooden tavern, scorched by the now-absent fmes.

  Ash and soot flutter idly in the air. The smoke lingers with it.

  The Qrows silently part on one side, allowing Galihend to step into the charred underpass that will now become an arena.

  A single bird nds atop her head to act as her eyes. She raises her bde toward Smith.

  “You.”

  “Me?” Smith mutters in fear.

  Galihend lunges forward. The bde grazes Smith’s shoulder as they desperately kneel to dodge it.

  Defend me! Smith demands their blood that has nded on the tavern’s wall. It doesn’t respond to the command. They begin to panic.

  Galihend sshes at Smith again. This time, Smith bashes on the wooden door of the tavern, breaking it down.

  Galihend thrusts her bde down at them. It sms into the tavern floor.

  Smith scurries to their feet. Thankful they dodged the bde.

  Two birds fly at them as Galihend twirls her bde. Smith twists to dodge both attacks, yet is still cut. Their warm blood drips to the floor.

  Smith staggers as Galihend spins to deliver the killing blow.

  Is this really how it ends? Smith thinks in that fraction of an instant before the bde makes contact. No. I can’t die like this. I need to push forward. I need to strike back. This Martian woman killed that human Valerie, and now she’s going to kill me.

  Their scarred hand becomes a fist. I know what I promised you, Nadeden, but in a situation like this, I only have one option.

  Please. The iron sword manifests in Smith’s fist. Forgive me.

  They swing the iron bde out to counter the obsidian one.

  Sparks fly as the Qrows break into the tavern. The mass of shadow violently morphs around the two combatants as their bdes csh.

  Both thrust out at each other, vainly attempting to gain ground with every strike. Galihend’s Qrows are her one advantage. She can see Smith from every angle and see the perfect way to parry each attack they throw.

  Smith is outmatched and inexperienced with a bde, but adrenaline and relentless fever are on their side. They aren’t going down without a fight.

  Smith’s rapid sshes prove to be too much for Galihend. The iron sword eventually pierces her skin. She yelps in pain and rubs her wound.

  Smith draws the sword’s hilt to their chest. They shiver at the sight of the deep gash they inflicted on her. Their grip on the iron hilt loosens ever so slightly.

  Injuring Galihend has hurt Smith more than any ssh from her bde has. Galihend is quick to note this.

  She smacks the sword from Smith’s hand and steps into her flock of Qrows. The birds spiral around Smith like an all-consuming bck hole.

  Smith is forced into the center of the tavern by the flock. Although they don’t know that. All they can see now is the swirling mass of dark feathers and bck beaks speeding around them.

  Smith anxiously waits for Galihend to reappear. Locked into their battle stance, Smith runs a smear of blood across their palms, preparing to summon iron.

  Galihend’s obsidian bde pokes through the flock and slices Smith’s back. The sudden shock of pain trips them into the mass of Qrows.

  The combined beaks and talons cw at them and push them back into the circle, where they await Galihend’s next attack. Smith doesn’t have to wait for long.

  The obsidian bde swings at their legs. Smith leaps up, dodging the ssh.

  They hear Galihend curse behind the squawking Qrows before she lunges out again.

  Smith has been waiting for this.

  Galihend charges them head-on, bursting out from the swirling flock in an explosion of feathers. Smith pces one blood-smeared palm on Galihend and yells with all the might they have left, “Chains!”

  The blood obeys the command, transforming into a clump of iron chains that restrain her.

  She nds on the wooden floor with a thud. Smith can’t help but crack a smirk.

  Galihend wirthes beneath the chains, cursing herself once more before settling down.

  Smith scratches their bleeding back. They draw their hand away once they feel the gaping flesh that Galihend tore.

  As they do so, they remember the Qrow that tore Valerie’s neck only a moment ago.

  “Who are you?” Smith demands, pressing a foot down on Galihend.

  She only whispers one word. “Kill.”

  The Qrows disperse from their swirling formation and crash into Smith. A deafening, violent screech bsts from their beaks as they rend Smith’s skin.

  Smith is helpless against the barrage. Their blood spurts over their eyes, covering their sight as the talons and beaks of the flock assault them.

  One of the Qrows caws out in agony. Then another, and another, and another, until nothing but a mess of bck feathers hanging on iron spikes remains.

  Galihend screams for her fallen allies.

  Anvil silences her with a kick.

  “Sibling.” Anvil rushes to Smith’s side.

  He pulls a bag of blood from his coat and connects it to Smith. They groan as Anvil inserts the needle. Smith twitches, almost convulsing as they cough up what little blood they still have left. Anvil pces his palm on Smith’s chest. Blood runs down his arm and turns to metal to seal the wounds.

  Once they realize what Anvil has done, Smith gasps, “Back.”

  “What?”

  “Back… she…” Smith coughs. Their throat is dry and weak. “She… got my back.”

  Smith pnts a hand on the creaking floorboards and rolls over.

  Anvil stares at the gaping ssh now lined with splinters. Smith’s pale white back is now painted a crimson red. Anvil pces his cold hands on the sea of red. Smith shudders in pain at the stinging sensation of their torn flesh being touched.

  Anvil recalls his hands. Smith gnces at him out of the corner of their eye.

  Anvil’s shaking, yet remains stone-faced. His eyes meet Smith’s. “I…”

  Anvil clutches his trembling wrist. The wrist that is now his. His breath quickens. He pces his palm on Smith again.

  Smith’s eyes close. They grit their teeth.

  Iron. They plead in their mind. Please. Iron in my blood, iron in my brother’s blood. Save me. Help me, please. Help-

  Smith screams as their sshed flesh is stitched together by iron cws. The cws become a wall that seals the skin and draws it together.

  Smith grunts and paws at the floorboards before rising.

  Anvil catches them as they trip over the dead Qrows in a daze.

  “Thank you…” Smith mumbles. “Need to… get… to the Pza.”

  They squint at Galihend, still chained at the edge of the Tavern.

  “You…” Smith draws out the breath.

  Galihend sits up in her chains and prepares for the worst.

  Smith’s lips fumble out one word. A command. “Live.”

  They lean on Anvil as they walk out of the tavern back into the underpass.

  Galihend can’t believe it. All that effort. All that scouting the city. Only to now be granted mercy?

  Who does that person think they are to leave her in chains and refuse to give her the honor of a warrior’s death? They certainly can’t be the one the Scorched Archer was traveling with.

  A woman as merciless as Nadeden would never associate with a person that foolishly kind.

  Galihend rests her head on a Tavern stool.

  A single Qrow nds atop her head to be her eyes. Another nds on her shoulder.

  “Get chains off.” She demands the birds, who simply squawk in response.