Ten minutes before the explosion that rocked the city and caused so much destruction, Megan and Rachel burst into the temple of Shigeru at a dead sprint. Rather, they were moving as fast as they could, their comatose friend suspended over their shoulders. They skidded to a stop just inside the entrance to the hall and settled Michael down. A healer noticed their sudden arrival and hurried over.

“Where is he wounded?” The man asked at once. “How long ago was the wound sustained?”

“He’s not wounded,” Megan gasped, clutching a stitch that had formed in her ribs. “Just a bit scorched from a fight with a dragon, but otherwise fine. He’s just drained.”

The healer nodded his understanding and opened the top to a pouch at his belt. It was filled with potions, and he selected one, thrusting it into Megan’s hand. Then he hurried away to deal with another patient who obviously needed him more. Megan and Rachel propped their friend up against a wall, and Megan uncorked the potion. As soon as she poured it down Michael’s throat, he let out a spluttering cough and his eyes shot open.

“Calm down,” She said, noticing how the vague remnants of his mana shot up. “You’re safe. For now. We’re in Shigeru’s temple.”

Michael took a second to look at their surroundings, his eyes still looking glazed. He pushed himself up a little more straight, and took the rest of the potion from Megan’s hand, downing the contents in one. “How long have I been out? What’s going on?”

“You’ve only been out for a few minutes,” Rachel assured him. She was fishing some rations out of her bag, passing them each a bundle of food. “The wall is still holding strong. Nothing else is new.”

He nodded slowly, clearly working through some problem. Rachel, meanwhile, possessed by nervous energy, got back to her feet. As both of her friends looked at her in some surprise, she waved nonchalantly. “I’ve still got some mana. Gonna see if I can help the healers out.”

So saying, she moved away. Megan, feeling exhausted, sat beside Michael, pressing her back to the temple wall. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Michael said. His voice was oddly stiff. “Just got a little overeager, that’s all. Is Jordan dead?”

Megan flinched at the casual tone in his voice as he asked the question and finally felt the tears beginning to form. They fell silently down the front of her red robes. “Yes.”

“It sounds like he was in a rage,” Michael commented. “That’s the best way for his kind.”

It was known that the dragon-kin of the plains believed that the greatest honor one could achieve in battle was to die in the midst of a dragon’s rage. To let their human side fade away, and let their draconic blood dictate the last few moments of their life. Megan had always thought of it as a barbaric way of life, but now it seemed a fitting end for her friend. She would have preferred that he survive, of course, but at least he’d stayed true to himself at the end. Somehow, such a violent end seemed at odds with his quiet, gentle nature.

They sat in silence then, observing the movement of healers and injured people around them. The healers of the God of War would have a busy day ahead of them, Megan thought. Members of Issho-Ni were posted in and around the temple, to protect it in case the enemy got past the inner city wall. The God of War himself had declared that the harming of innocents in battle was forbidden, and that included the injured. Should that happen, the warriors here would use their full strength to enforce that Divine Law.

“So what’s next?” Michael asked. Megen turned to see him staring at her out of the corner of his eye. “The fight still isn’t over.”

Megan shrugged. “I don’t know. Why are you asking me? You’re the one who’s better with this kind of stuff.”

“You’re our leader,” he pointed out. “I can only give whatever help I can manage. I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

She flushed slightly at the obvious sincerity in his words. “Well, for now, you have to rest. You completely drained yourself, and there’s no point in rushing back out. You could end up in a much worse state.”

“Fair enough.”

Megan looked back into the temple and spotted Rachel. The Proficient was bent over an injured soldier, her face twisted with concentration, mending some wound. She could see the man stirring feebly. Had the spell worked? She put it out of her mind, as another thought occurred to her.

“Michael,” she spoke quietly, but her voice was firm. She knew, even without looking, that he’d been watching her the entire time. “While we’ve got a few minutes, I want to ask you something.”

Michael hesitated for a second or two, then let out a quiet sigh. “It’s about my fight with your friend from Earth, isn’t it?”

“So you know that I’m upset about it,” Megan replied. “What the hell was that about, then? You don’t even know him, but you acted as if you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him,” Michael said at once. He hesitated once again, then added, “I guess, if I’m being honest, I was just a little jealous.”

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“A little?” She said, raising an eyebrow as she turned to look at him. “And why would you be jealous of him? Is it because Master Ehran accepted him as his first and only student? I thought you were more interested in learning magic.”

“I am,” he assured her. “Well, I first tried to be Master Ehran’s apprentice, but I could never pass his test. So I suppose I am a little jealous that Eric managed that, but I got over that pretty quickly. He’s strong enough, so it makes sense. But that’s not why I’m jealous.”

“Then why?” She asked, her voice rasing in volume slightly. “What could you possibly be jealous of him for?”

Michael seemed to struggle with some heavy thought, his face torn between anger and fear. What he could be afraid of with this conversation, Megan had no idea. Either way, she was determined to get an answer from him. When it began to look like he would refuse to answer, she lifted her hand, coated in mana. “I will make you tell me, whether you like it or not.”

“I’m jealous of how close you are!” Michael burst out, then clamped his jaw shut. He clearly hadn’t intended for that to slip out. Now both of Megan’s eyebrows were up, and he sighed again. “I’m sorry, that’s just how it is. I can’t help it.”

“How close we are?” Megan asked blankly. “What in the world are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

Then the thought occurred to Megan that the only way that Michael could be jealous of Eric in that regard was if there was some similar interest in him. Her next verbal jab died unspoken, and she stared wide-eyed at Michael for several seconds, lapsing into silence. No way, she told herself. Michael Ciayol, a gifted, deadly warrior at the top of his class, take a fancy to her? There was no chance in hell, she thought. Surely she’d misunderstood what he said.

“You’re joking,” This was Rachel’s voice, coming from right in front of them. Megan hadn’t heard or sensed her approaching. “You mean to tell me you didn’t know? I thought you were teasing him all along.”

“What?” Megan snapped, more thrown than ever as she looked up at her friend. “You knew about this too?”

“Well, of course I did,” Rachel said, an incredulous half-smile on her face. “He’s not exactly subtle about it, you know. But I guess you’re just as dense as Jordan was. He didn’t believe me when I told him about it, either.”

“Shut up, Rachel,” Michael said. “I’m not that obvious.”

Rachel let out a snort of laughter. “Right. And the moons are blue. Don’t try to fool me, Michael. You may be good at fighting, but you’re awful at hiding your feelings. I’ve known for months.”

“But I’ve only felt this way for a few weeks,” Michael retorted. “So I know you’re lying.”

“You might have realized it a few weeks ago,” Rachel replied. “But I’ve seen you gazing at her like she was the most fascinating thing for almost a year now.”

Megan couldn’t believe her ears. Were they really having this conversation? Here? Now? There was a fucking war going on less than a mile away from them, and they were chatting like high-schoolers, discussing whether or not Michael had a crush on her? But then she thought of the way that Michael would switch between irritation and calm when she talked to him. Some small part of her realized that the signs had all been there. She’d just been blind to them.

“Now she gets it,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough. If you were half as gifted at this as you were at magic, you’d be married by now. I swear you two are too much.”

With a snort of mock disgust, she marched away as someone called her. Megan and Micheal were left in an awkward silence, each of them staring fixedly in a different direction. Megan was only aware of her breath for several moments, trying to catch up to the moment. Her brain felt like it’d been slowed down as if she could only process one thought at a time.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” Michael said quietly. “I wanted to tell you after I beat Eric in that fight. That probably wasn’t wise, but it was the best plan I had. Then this all happened, and I didn’t get the chance.”

“After you beat him? You’re so sure you would have?” But even as she said the words, she knew that he would have. She, just like everyone else in the crowd, had seen that the fight was definitely over. Michael had had Eric as his mercy, a nanosecond from delivering the final blow before the attack happened.

“Are you mad at me?”

Megan took a while before replying, wanting to make sure she was honest. “Not really. I’m surprised, more than anything. And flattered. I had no idea.”

“So I wasn’t too obvious,” Michael said. He sounded proud of himself. “That’s good. I didn’t want to make our friendship too awkward.”

Megan gave a dull laugh. “Little too late for that, I think.”

“Well, I won’t ask for your answer just yet,” Micheal said. “There’s no time for that now.”

Megan finally turned to face him, noticing that he was standing now. She hadn’t heard him move. She opened her mouth to reply, to say anything to break the silence, but before she could make a sound, the very air vibrated with power around them. Every mage in the building looked up in alarm, sure that this couldn’t be good. Then, with a spine-tingling ripple, the air split itself.

Boom. A massive explosion, so loud that it could have happened at their feet, ripped through the air. Even from here, the friction was palpable. Megan shot to her feet at once, mana at the ready, and raced to the door of the Temple, Michael on her heels. Just over the buildings, she could see debris still raining down. Her heart hammered in her ribs. It was coming from the wrong direction. The palace! Someone had gotten inside the city!

“Eric!” Michael shouted, making her jump. She turned to face him, confused. “I heard that he had a small force watching the palace, in case of teleporting attackers! That’s where the explosion came from!”

Megan stared at him incredulously. “But Milagre has wards to prevent teleportation by hostile mages in war. That’s what I’ve always heard.”

Michael shook his head. “Bragg had to take them down so he could use the mana. He hadn’t expected a huge fight so soon after summoning Eric.”

Megan let out a curse and yanked her wand out of the sheather under her sleeve. “I’m going to the palace to help him! You stay here and rest!”

She ran off as fast as she could, hitting the high street and turning left, towards the palace. She heard Michael shouting after her but ignored it, knowing that Rachel would keep him there. Sure enough, as she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw her dragging Michael back into the Temple District by the back of his robe. He struggled valiantly against her grip, then went slack as she knocked him out with magic. Good, she thought. She couldn’t risk another friend dying today.