EPILOGUE VI

Anthea sat alone in a small, sparsely furnished room. The walls were lined with concrete, the only decorations a few old, faded posters from a world that felt like a lifetime ago. The air was thick with the scent of metal and oil, a constant reminder of the war raging above them.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts were a mess of worry and heartbreak.

Dang had been gone for so long, and with each passing day, the knot in her chest tightened. She had tried to be strong, to hold onto the hope that he would return, but the silence was crushing. The fear of the unknown ate away at her core, leaving her feeling hollow and helpless.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She didn’t move at first, the sound barely registering with her, but then the door creaked open, and she lifted her head, blinking away the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

“Jackson,” she regarded the tall dark-skinned man that had entered the room, “Is there a problem?”

Her first lieutenant, Jackson, was a man of few words, always direct and to the point. His uniform was pressed, but the weariness in his eyes betrayed the strain of the ongoing battle.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“The others are ready,” Jackson said quietly, his voice respectful but firm.

Anthea nodded, her gaze drifting to the floor. “Tell them I’ll be out soon.”

Jackson was silent for a while before continuing, “We still don’t know what happened to Dang, but for now, the people are looking to you to lead. I promise we’ll go look for him when we can, but the people take priority. Always. You taught me that.”

She appreciated Jackson’s presence but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The weight of her worry was too heavy.

Seeing her silence, Jackson gave a slight nod of understanding. “We’ll be waiting,” he added, before turning to leave. The door closed with a soft click behind him, leaving Anthea alone once more.

She sat there for a moment longer, letting the silence envelop her. Then, with a deep, shuddering breath, she clasped her hands together in a desperate, silent prayer. She wasn’t particularly religious, but in this moment, it was all she had left to hold onto.

“Please, Dang,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “Come back home.”

For a long moment, she stayed like that, her eyes closed, her thoughts entirely on him. She could almost see his face, hear his voice, feel the warmth of his presence. It was a fleeting comfort, but it was enough to give her the strength she needed.

With a final, deep breath, Anthea opened her eyes. The sadness in them was still there, but it was joined by a flicker of resolve. She had to keep going, for Dang, for the others, for everyone they were fighting for.

She rose from the chair. Her hand brushed the small, worn locket she wore around her neck—a gift from Dang. She held it for a moment, drawing strength from the memories it held, then let it fall back against her chest.

“I’ll be waiting…”