A nightmare.

That was what it was.

Children crying.

Some crying loudly with tears and snot covering their faces.

Some were literally screaming in agonizing pain.

Some... weren’t crying at all.

They just stared.

Stunned.

Too shocked to even understand what was happening.

When the bombing happened, most warriors weren’t here.

Most had gone to the execution.

The quarter was full of the ones who couldn’t fight, ones who... weren’t fast enough to even run.

Mothers.

Children.

Elders.

The weakest.

The ones who should have been... the safest.

And it wasn’t just Stonefangs who were hurt.

The Ants were no different.

Many were crushed, many scattered.

Some still climbed over rubble with broken legs, dragging themselves anyway, still trying to report everything to their mother, still trying to... help.

Trying.

It was a sight that made Imperia’s heart squeeze. She could sense her children’s pain, even from afar. She could sense what they were doing and even while she ordered them to lay low, rest, and preserve their energy, the Ants, for the first time in their lives, did not listen to their mother’s command and performed their duties.

Something that clenched Imperia’s heart even further, enough to make her cry, but the Ant held back.

She knew her father’s state. She knew he was already blaming himself, and if even she cried in front of him, her father might lose all his sense.

Therefore, even when Imperia stayed with Kael, she stayed silent, not reporting much about the Ants or even the Stonefangs. She only reported the essentials and never went into details, even though she knew he would see everything soon anyway.

...

On the ground, Stonefang warriors had already started doing what their blood knew best.

They took action.

They broke doors open.

They dragged bodies out.

They used thick clothes to cover the worst burns.

They tore cloth and tied it tight around bleeding limbs.

One warrior yelled orders in sharp Stonefang tongue, his voice cracking from rage and pain.

Two youths lifted a heavy stone slab together, hands shaking, faces red, and pulled out a crying child trapped beneath.

A man with a broken arm still used his good hand to pull another injured person away from the burning shards.

They didn’t stop.

They didn’t sit.

And...

They didn’t cry.

Not yet.

They just... moved.

As if some force they couldn’t name had taken over them, stopping them from pausing or freezing from anything at all.

They moved like a pack that had been attacked.

Fast and focused.

And then—

More people poured in.

The Stonefang warriors who had been at the execution came rushing back, some still carrying weapons, some already calling out names with a dangerous look on their faces.

They were expecting enemies.

Enemies they were about to tear apart, but the destruction forced them to stop. The reports that the enemies had already fled made them even angrier.

But for now—

The enemy did not matter.

Because the destruction in front of them was more important.

And just like other Stonefangs, the Stonefang Army too started moving, entering the same pack-like state. Their coordination became so strong that it almost looked trained.

Behind the Stonefangs was the... Velmourn Army.

Like the Stonefangs, they too had come here prepared for battle, but the moment Lavinia translated Stonefang words and told them that the enemy had already fled, they... froze.

Their eyes shifted to the Stonefangs, the wounds, the blood, the... children.

And in an instant, their formation broke and... hesitation stepped in.

Of course, it wasn’t because they didn’t care.

Even if their relationship with the Stonefangs wasn’t strong, even if they had been enemies for generations, this happened inside the Wall, inside a place they were supposed to be safe.

And...

They weren’t monstrous enough to see children hurt and... not feel a thing.

Velmourns were affected by the sight too. They too wanted to help, but... they couldn’t move.

They didn’t know how to move without making it worse.

Right now, the Stonefangs’ emotions were in turmoil, emotions that had no outlet at all. They were like explosive bombs that would explode the moment something happened.

And the Velmourns feared that possibility.

They feared stepping into Stonefang space and being misunderstood.

They feared causing a clash.

They feared doing the wrong thing in front of desperate people.

So they looked to their leaders.

They waited for orders.

And the worst part— even the leaders were frozen.

Morvain, Korvath, even Lavinia, they did not know how to act or what to do. They too had the same concern in their heads.

And that caused a delay.

A sight that seemed... outright wrong.

With Stonefangs desperately crying in pain and obviously in need of help, while the Velmourns, their supposed allies, just... stared with a full army right in front of them.

A sight that would have grave implications and consequences in the future.

Or at least, that’s how the leaders saw it, but then—

Then someone moved.

And it wasn’t slow or hesitant like the Velmourn Army.

They moved quickly, almost as if they had been waiting for a moment like this.

A group pushed through the Velmourn soldiers, not caring about lines or rank.

The Dawn of the Dragon.

They wore their marks openly. Some had cloth bands tied around their arms, some had their symbol stitched into their coats.

At the front was Vandra.

Her face was pale when she saw the damage.

But she didn’t freeze.

She ran.

Straight into the smoke.

Straight into the screams.

"Move!"

She shouted at her people.

"Don’t stand and stare—MOVE!"

And her group followed like they trusted her more than they trusted fear or hesitation.

They didn’t speak Stonefang tongue.

Most of them didn’t.

They didn’t need to.

They used hands.

They used eyes.

They used common sense.

One of them dropped to his knees beside a mother whose leg was torn open by a shard and pressed cloth hard into the wound without asking permission.

The mother screamed—then grabbed his sleeve like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her alive.

Another Dawn member grabbed two crying children and pulled them behind a broken wall, away from the burning shards, then wrapped his cloak around them.

A third tied a tourniquet around an elder’s arm so tight the old man’s face twisted— but the bleeding slowed.

And then—

Stonefangs joined them.

Not the normal Stonefang patrol.

Stonefangs who had been part of Dawn of the Dragon.

Stonefangs who had that very same symbol on their clothes, coats, or even bodies.

They moved with the Velmourn group naturally, without tension, without that old hate.

And most importantly—

They translated.

Of course, they did not automatically learn Velmourn Tongue, but after sharing stories just for two nights, they now had... a connection.

A connection that was strong enough for them to exchange... simple words.

Simple words that were more than enough in a situation like this.

"THIS ONE! BLEEDING!"

"CHILD BURNED! WATER!"

"MOVE HER! LEG BROKEN!"

They screamed it through the chaos, still in Stonefang tongue, but the actions they did together with those words were enough for the Velmourn members of the Dawn of the Dragon to understand and...

That made it work.

That made Velmourn hands and Stonefang pain connect without misunderstanding.

What’s even better was that with around forty Velmourns now helping the Stonefangs, the army behind them did not have to hold back either.

"Seven squads guard the entry! Be vigilant! Keep your eyes on the ground and on the sky!

Make sure the enemy does not return!!

Remaining two squads! Help the Stonefangs!

Follow the members of Dawn! Follow their instructions! Do what they want you to do!"

Korvath gave orders and...

The rest of the Velmourn Army moved.

And for the first time since the alliance began,

It wasn’t about politics.

It wasn’t about pride.

It wasn’t even about survival of a side.

It was survival of people.

And Dawn of the Dragon stood at the front of it, like a spear point.

Vandra’s hands were already red.

She didn’t notice.

She was holding a child’s head up, keeping him awake, speaking softly in her broken Stonefang language.

"Look me."

She whispered.

"Stay me.

Stay with me.

You strong!

You not lose!"

The child’s eyes fluttered.

He screamed in agony.

And Vandra’s jaw tightened like she was holding back her tears with every bit of strength she had.

Around her, her people worked like desperate healers. They did not know any healing magic, but they still moved.

They... still did something.

Tying.

Pressing.

Carrying.

Dragging.

Lifting rubble with bare hands until their fingers split.

And the quarter... it was barely holding together.

Barely.

People screamed.

Someone cried out a name again and again like a prayer.

A Stonefang father found his child under debris and the sound he made wasn’t human.

A Velmourn soldier rushed forward and lifted a bleeding Stonefang elder into his arms.

And suddenly, the "line" between Velmourn and Stonefang didn’t matter.

Not here.

Not now.

Not when... blood was on the snow.