What awaited them was desolation. Sergeant Ferun escorted them down the ramp, her arm under Ember's shoulders. She helped her to her feet with her own body, and Ember felt her cheeks heat up every time their hips collided.

How ridiculous you are, losing your head over one of your superiors.

Ember pushed her father's voice out of her mind. She focused on the present, on the sound of soles against the iron of the ramp, on the ringing in her ears now that the noise of battle was over. Flames crackled somewhere, their glow spreading an orange halo across the sky. The Vylian, now reduced to a pile of wreckage.

The Sergeant never spoke on the way. Ember respected her silence.

Next to dozens of motionless statues of those iron creatures, surviving cadets waited with their weapons stowed. Some lay on the tiled floor, dabbing at wounds on their chests or legs; others paced, checking the pulse of those who had not made it. A small group seemed unharmed, or nearly so, with only a few scratches and labored breathing.

Ember squeezed closer to the Sergeant as her eyes fell on the figure of Mark. His blond hair tousled by the breeze, his hands smeared with blood, a red mark on one cheek.

What is it? Were you hoping he was dead? You really are a hypocrite, Ember.

What did her father know? Him, the ultimate hypocrite. The man without morals. Still, Ember swallowed her own heart, beating relentlessly in her throat. For her father was right, and she had truly hoped that Mark had died in battle.

Sergeant Ferun helped her lean against the wall of a building that was no more than a vague memory of cold, broken walls. "Thank you," Ember muttered, barely holding back a groan as the other moved away.

"How many wounded and how many dead?" the Sergeant asked the other cadets in her cold, detached tone.

"Four wounded and ten dead," Viola replied in a low voice, sitting on the ground. A deep cut ran across her cheek, the vermilion of blood dripping onto her perfect skin.

Mark spat on the floor. When he noticed Ember, trembling and panting, he went to her without wasting any time. His friend Jason followed without a word. "Where the fuck were you, huh?" He grabbed her uniform jacket, his fingers pressing against her chest.

Ember let out a groan. He pulled her forward so he could stare straight into her eyes a few inches away; she had to keep her weight on her injured leg to keep from falling on top of him. She sank her teeth into her lip to keep from screaming. "I was just looking for a way to stop the Ysnians."

"Tell another one, Leroy!" Mark shoved her and Ember lost her balance. Her butt hit the tiled floor. "You left us here to die while you ran away like a coward!"

A red half-cloak fluttered in front of Ember's eyes. It covered Mark's pained face for a moment. "Cadet Terris." The Sergeant's voice was firm and threatening.

He stepped back, hesitant. "Sergeant, I think you should punish her. She was a coward and left her comrades to die..."

"Shut up." She folded her arms across her chest. The Sergeant was tall, but not as tall as Mark. Still, her aura radiated strength from every pore, and the way she stood with her head held high and her muscles tensed betrayed an anger she could not hide.

Ember blinked. She knew Mark would resent her the moment she left the battlefield. What she had not expected was for the Sergeant to defend her.

A warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the still vivid sensation of Mark's fingers pressed against her.

"If it weren't for her, you'd all be dead by now," the Sergeant said.

Mark frowned and took another step back. Jason remained at her side, his hair too long and his uniform tattered on his calf. "But, Sergeant, she left..."

"Yes, I know. She left the post because she saw an opportunity."

"But it was against orders."

"Sometimes, Terris, instinct is more important than orders."

No one dared to answer. Usually, Sergeant Ferun was the first to punish cadets who did their own thing instead of following orders. Ember wondered if she was making an exception because of her achievement.

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Whatever the reason, seeing Mark being yelled at like that was a beautiful sight. She almost smiled.

With a cry of effort, Ember grabbed the wall to stand up. No one helped her. The sergeant had already moved away to check on the wounded; Mark and Jason watched her with clenched fists; Viola seemed too focused on her own palms. Ember scrambled back to her feet, her thigh screaming in pain.

Panting, she pressed her back against the wall. She met Mark's gaze again. So full of hate and anger.

For a brief moment, Ember saw her father instead of Mark, his hand raised. She closed her eyes and prayed for him to leave her alone. When she opened them again, no one was looking at her.

Her heart pounded harder than ever in her ribs.

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

Ember let out a long sigh, releasing all the tension that had held her up until then, as she dropped onto the mattress. She pressed a button on the console next to the nightstand. The electromagnetic field activated with a vibration and the bed lifted a few inches off the floor. The room was quiet, dark and empty. A place to get lost in, to let go of the most hidden and darkest part of herself.

The burn still hurt. The nurse had bandaged it for her as soon as they returned to headquarters. In the cribs, she had recognized the faces of her fellow cadets. She had not been able to feel much for them, even though she knew inside that she should be worried about their recovery, or at least sorry for their condition.

Instead, she had no room for anything but the black emptiness that filled her chest. The hope of seeing someone cross the threshold of the infirmary to greet her. But who? She had no idea. Maybe Sergeant Ferun.

But no one had come.

With a sigh, Ember turned on her side and wrapped her arms around the pillow. She held it close, a companion that could not give her the warmth she needed.

Ready to fall asleep. To let herself fall into the limbo of dreamland, where the usual nightmares would greet her, with her father's screams in the foreground and the desire to disappear from the world digging into her chest.

A sudden knock.

Ember lifted her torso, head tilted, eyes fixed on the door. Darkness surrounded everything, engulfing the shelves of books on the walls; only the doorknob twinkled like a second moon.

"Who is it?" she asked, clutching her shirt between her fingers at the height of her galloping heart.

"Sergeant Ferun." She added nothing more.

Ember stood motionless for a few seconds, maybe longer. What did the Sergeant want from her at this time of night?

To confess her love for you. Come on, stop dreaming.

"The door is open."

The Sergeant entered and closed the door behind her. Her hair fell over her left shoulder, her uniform stripped of its jacket. The tank top left her arms exposed, a mix of muscle and strength and femininity. Ember held her breath, clinging to the blanket as if afraid of falling into an abyss of inappropriate thoughts.

"Hey." The Sergeant stopped a few paces from the foot of the bed. "How's the leg?"

A warmth rose in her cheeks. Ember moved her legs under the blanket. Her skin stretched under the bandage. She gritted her teeth. "Better," she lied.

"Mm-hm." The Sergeant raised an eyebrow. "I'm not blind, you know."

Ember dropped her eyes to the blankets. "It still hurts a bit, but it will pass. I won't miss training."

"You need rest." A new note tinged her voice. It was softer.

"But..."

"No buts. If I see you in boot camp in the next few days, I'll send you back here with a kick in the butt, Leroy."

It didn't sound like a threat, though, and Ember couldn't help but smile. She nodded, her fingers playing with the blanket. "All right. Thanks, Sarge."

The other approached again. She spread a scent of cherries and leather. She parted her lips and almost seemed to want to speak, but she just sucked in air and let it out with a sigh. Nothing more.

Ember curled a crumpled strand of the blanket around her finger. A dark red twisted against her pale skin. She found it hard to think with her Sergeant's presence so close, just steps from her bed. Even her father's constant muttering had faded, or maybe it was just lost in the sea of thoughts that flooded her mind.

"Did you come all this way just to tell me that?"

The Sergeant rubbed her fingers together. "No. I wanted to make sure you still want to help."

Ember lifted her head. "Help?"

"In finding the spy. I shouldn't rely on a cadet, but I don't know who I can really trust."

"I'm happy to assist."

The other nodded, her lips curving into a barely-there smile. "Good. Thank you, Ember." It was the first time she had called her by her first name, instead of "cadet" or Leroy. It made her quiver a little inside.

"My pleasure." Ember smiled in response.

"Then, good night." With those words, the Sergeant left the room, taking with her the scent of cherries and the no longer so cold aura that followed her.

Ember stood alone in the dark again, with a pulsing burn on her thigh. She lay down and hugged the pillow, but this time when she closed her eyes, it was with a heart full of hope.

Someone had come to visit her, if only for convenience. She was not alone.