“We lost many Bedrock and Spire, my queen. And…"
Jularra had barely heard the captain continue his account, but something about the way his voice tailed off made her stomach lurch.
No.
Don’t say it.
“Chief Korden, my lady…”
Jularra stood up. Her jaw locked again and she stared ahead, unseeing.
“We lost him.”
Jularra set off walking, aimlessly.
I brought this war on my people. Their blood is on my hands.
Korden's blood is on my hands. I killed him.
I killed them all.
Jularra planted her feet, clenched her fists, and tore into the sky with a piercing shriek.
She recalled the last time they'd spoken—how she'd ordered him to remain here—and screamed until her throat was raw. Then she refilled her lungs and she screamed again.
Her cry tore through the valley, breaking quickly before rising again into a howl of hatred. She paced like an animal, lost in rage, focused on nothing.
She wanted to destroy and kill. She wanted death. She wanted blood. She wanted revenge. But there was nothing to act on. Not yet.
The pile of Torgurian corpses, separated from Morganon’s dead, caught Jularra’s attention. She clapped her hands with the sound of rock breaking rock. She clapped them again, and this time it sounded like flint striking steel. Those around her flinched, and then a final clap—the loudest of all—made everyone in the vicinity cover their ears.
A massive sphere of bright blue flame exploded around Jularra, enveloping her. The sound cracked and echoed through the valley. Those nearest to it were blasted back and knocked down before scrambling backwards to get away from the heat. Almost as soon as the burning ball ruptured into existence, it started to move upwards, revealing Jularra to be unharmed as she pushed the sphere of blue flame up over her head. Once her arms were fully extended, she looked to the massive pile of Torgurian dead and hurled the massive fireball at the jumbled bodies.
The ball shot through the air and slammed into the corpses. They ignited quickly, filling the area with the smell of sizzling flesh and burning hair.
Jularra stood, chest heaving, staring at the fire.
“Where is Korden?” she demanded. “Where’s his body?”
The captain looked fearfully toward Wona and the others before he answered.
“Inside, my queen. In the tower courtyard. That’s where we’re taking our dead.”
Our dead. Our dead are our dead, because of me. Korden is dead because of me!
Jularra tore off across the bridge and through the gatehouse. Without orders to the contrary, the others followed her as she marched, climbing over rubble, holding up a hand at anyone who sought her attention. When she reached the courtyard, she found it filled with the bodies of hundreds of her Spire and Bedrock.
“Where is he?”
“Over here, ma’am.”
The captain hurried forward and Jularra fell in behind him, passing between lines and lines of bodies. There was still a hint of hope that somehow, someone might have been mistaken; that Korden was out there still, wounded but alive.
That hope died the instant she saw his body.
Half of his lower jaw was missing. A blade had gone in through his cheek, slicing across and down. That wasn't what had killed him, though. There were three arrows in his chest, two of which had been broken off. The third arrow was intact, and looked to have pierced his heart.
Jularra started to tremble. Wave after wave of nameless emotions assaulted her, and her body didn’t know what to do. She couldn't even recognize any feeling beyond absolute disgust with herself and her decisions.
Jularra turned and vomited, hands on her knees, but it didn’t help. She still felt cold and sweaty. Her stomach continued to throb; sharp jabs of grief-stricken pain assailed her alongside waves of guilt. She stumbled to the ground, catching herself on her palms before righting herself once more. Bent over with her forearms on her knees, she heaved again, but nothing came. A ribbon of saliva hung from her lips.
“Your Majesty,” Vischuno whispered. He bent down and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Can we escort you to your tower?”
She couldn’t see well. Her eyes throbbed and ran with tears of grief, and tears from the force of vomiting. Dozens of thoughts streamed into and around her mind, but she could focus on none of them.
Vischuno took her silence as acceptance. He motioned for Abranni to help him support her. They moved to either side of her, taking her under the arms and bringing her to her feet.
As she was jostled into a fully upright position, Jularra became more aware of her surroundings. Wearily, she squirmed out of Vischuno and Abranni's grip. She took a steadying breath as she waved them off.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Jularra stepped out slowly for the residence tower, vaguely noting that Wona gestured at Vischuno and Abranni to follow her. With a few Bedrock and Spire in tow as well, the queen walked out across the funereal yard.
As the group passed the rows of dead, Jularra felt a fresh wave of pain stabbing at her stomach. She swung forward and retched again, and once more Vischuno and Abranni reached out to lend their assistance.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” she insisted. “Wona, have the other captains report to you. I want to know how our citizens have fared.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Wona answered with a quick bow. She then jogged off, whistling to summon a nearby captain.
As Jularra looked up to try and alleviate the pounding pressure in her head, she saw someone exiting the residence tower. Jularra squinted and held a hand to her eyes.
“Is that—?”
Vischuno shielded his eyes and peered in the same direction.
“I believe that’s Lord Latham, ma’am.”
“Latham!” Jularra shouted. She slowly straightened. “Is that you?”
“Queen Jularra! I was just looking for you,” he said as he came closer. “We had heard you might be back
