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Everyone was down. Defeated.
The battlefield was a graveyard of silence and groans. Smoke curled from the ruins of shattered spells and broken blades. The moans of the wounded whispered against the cool earth. Travis lay still in the rubble, limbs weak, his weapon flung far from reach—useless. Above him, the silhouette of the High Priest stood tall. Cold. Imposing. Zane.
Travis forced himself to breathe through the ache in his ribs, watching the edge of Zane’s dark robes flutter. Any moment now, it would end.
But then—fingers curled around the hem of his shirt.
He was yanked upward in a single motion. Travis stumbled but found himself upright, face-to-face with the man who once spoke to him like the world revolved around his smile.
Zane’s gaze cut like a dagger, void of warmth.
“Go home,” he commanded, voice emotionless.
Travis blinked. “No.”
For a moment, time froze. The air between them crackled with everything unsaid. Years of tension. Memories buried deep. Betrayals neither would name.
Travis thought— this is it . This is how it ends. Not with glory. Not with rage. But in the quiet, bitter aftermath of something broken beyond repair.
Their faces were only inches apart. Zane’s eyes, always so composed, flickered—just once.
Then he let go.
And walked past him.
Travis turned slowly, dumbfounded, as Zane issued orders to his advancing army. The soldiers obeyed, not even sparing a glance toward the man left behind.
He was just... dismissed.
Like he never mattered at all.
“What the hell was that?!” Katelyn’s voice sliced through the room, raw with fury.
They were back in the base, huddled in a small chamber that reeked of blood, herbs, and desperation. The team was licking their wounds, both physical and emotional. Bandages were hastily applied, armor clattered to the floor, and tension simmered just beneath the surface.
“Zane doesn’t leave survivors!” she yelled again. “I know that firsthand!”
Aphmau sat on a nearby bench, brow furrowed, hands clasped between her knees. “He... left us,” she murmured, voice brittle with disbelief.
“He didn’t have to,” Dante added. “We were done for. Barely breathing. Maybe he didn’t see the point.”
“That doesn’t explain Travis,” Katelyn snapped.
Lucinda, leaning against a nearby wall, folded her arms. “Travis had no weapons. He was outmatched. It’s not like he could fight back.”
Katelyn glared. “He didn’t need weapons. He’s a demon, remember? He could’ve done something.”
Garroth cleared his throat gently. “Zane’s a priest. It makes sense Travis didn’t attack. That kind of clash runs deeper than steel.”
Katelyn scoffed. “Travis knew him. And he still won’t tell us how. What kind of man keeps his relationship with the enemy a secret?”
The room fell silent. The question hung heavy in the air.
“Well?” she pressed, her voice sharp. “How do we know he’s not a spy?”
The team exchanged uneasy glances. Doubt, once seeded, began to bloom like poison.
Lucinda’s fists clenched. She pushed off the wall and strode to the door without another word.
And froze.
Travis was standing there, wide-eyed, holding a book awkwardly against his chest.
“A-ah, sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just—returning this.” He held up the book like a peace offering. “But I guess... now’s not a good time.”
He looked away, embarrassment darkening his features.
Lucinda’s heart twisted.
“Come with me,” she said softly.
Travis hesitated. The weight of the conversation behind the door still lingered in his eyes. But after a beat, he nodded and followed her.
They walked in silence through the dimly lit halls until they reached a balcony overlooking the quiet night. Stars blinked above them in the endless dark, indifferent and distant. The cool breeze tugged at their clothes, brushing against tired skin.
Lucinda leaned against the railing, arms draped casually. Travis joined her, standing a few paces away. His shoulders were tense.
For a long while, they just stood there, watching the night.
Then Travis broke the silence.
“You’re not going to ask me?”
Lucinda tilted her head. “Ask what?”
He looked down. “About my history with Zane.”
She chuckled softly. “Nah.” She shrugged, casting a side-glance at him. “I know how it is with exes.”
“ Exes?! ” Travis nearly fell over the railing. His face turned beet red. “W-We’re not—I mean—we never even—!” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What makes you think—?!”
Lucinda laughed. “Relax. I’m teasing. Mostly.”
Travis buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t tell anyone you said that.”
“I won’t,” she said, smirking. “But I meant what I said. I saw it in his eyes.”
“What eyes? He doesn’t even have eyes under that mask anymore,” Travis muttered bitterly.
“You’d be surprised what you can still see,” she said. “He’s good at hiding it. He’s gotten far by wearing masks—literal and otherwise. But when he looks at you? There’s something else there. Longing. Pain.”
Travis fell silent, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“You’re mistaken,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Lucinda didn’t press.
They stood together again, letting the wind speak for them.
Eventually, Travis spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?”
She turned to him. “Of?”
“That I might betray you. Join him.”
Lucinda looked out over the horizon.
“No,” she said.
Travis raised a brow. “You sound sure.”
“I am.”
“How?” he asked, frustrated. “You heard them. They don’t trust me. Katelyn’s right—I didn’t say anything. I could be hiding something. I am a demon. You’ve got every reason not to believe me.”
She turned toward him, her expression softer than he expected.
“I know what it’s like,” she said. “Maybe I’m not cursed like you think you are. But I’ve been there. Alone. Judged. Called wicked for things beyond my control. I lost my mother. Got thrown out of my own village for being a witch.”
Her voice trembled for a moment, but she steadied it.
“You won’t betray us. Not because you owe us. Not even because we’re your friends. But because I know you won’t give those people—the ones who call you monster, demon, traitor—the satisfaction of being right.”
Travis stared at her, stunned.
He wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. But her words dug deep, anchoring into that vulnerable part of him that still wanted to believe in something good.
He sighed, resting his elbows on the rail. “Thanks.”
They stood there for another few minutes in easy silence, stars blinking overhead.
Then Lucinda nudged him.
“Want a drink?”
Travis blinked at her. “Now?”
“Why not? You and I are still breathing, aren’t we?” she smirked. “Seems like a good reason to celebrate.”
“What about the others? Won’t they get suspicious?”
Lucinda rolled her eyes. “Who cares what they think? We’ll call it... the beginning of a new alliance.”
Travis raised an eyebrow. “Alliance?”
She held up her imaginary glass. “To witches and almost-warlocks.”
He laughed, the sound surprising even himself.
“To witches and almost-warlocks.”
Their glasses clinked in the air—though nothing was in their hands—and for the first time in a long time, Travis didn’t feel like a monster.
He just felt... human.