Chapter 82: The Heart Of A Doctor
By the time Lara and Aramis returned to Meander Pass, the once crystal-clear waters of the Agwe River had turned a deep, sinister red, streaked with the lifeblood of fallen Estalis soldiers.
Bodies, some lifeless, others barely clinging to life, drifted downstream, their armor clanking against the rocks as the current carried them away. The air reeked of iron and death, thick with the cries of the wounded and the eerie silence of those who would never rise again.
Lara exhaled slowly, her chest heavy. War always exacted its price, paid in the countless lives lost on both sides. Even the enemy, men who had raised their swords against her people, were still someone’s son, someone’s father, husband, or brother. Somewhere, families would grieve—not for faceless warriors, but for loved ones who would never return home.
She was dazed momentarily. When had she begun thinking like this? When had she started seeing beyond the battlefield, beyond the black and white of victors and vanquished?
Thud!
A soldier had fallen in front of them, his body a battered ruin of flesh. He was dying, but even on the brink of death, his eyes burned with unyielding hatred as they locked onto Lara. His cracked lips curled in a sneer.
"You... fucking Nords," he spat, voice ragged with pain and fury. "You should die the most miserable deaths... You thieves... Go to hell!"
The man struggled to lift his sword, but his arm hung useless at his side, grotesquely twisted from the fall. The effort drained the last of his strength, his breath coming in harsh, shallow gasps.
Lara’s fleeting pity vanished. His eyes, raw with loathing, stripped her of any lingering sentimentality. She was appalled by the look that the soldier gave her.
Aramis moved without hesitation, delivering a brutal kick to the man’s chest. The soldier tumbled down the rocky incline, disappearing into the raging river below.
Lara turned to Aramis, troubled. "Why was there such hatred in his eyes? Why did he call us thieves?"