Chapter 3 Ghosts of the Living

Ruth didn't look up when Emily walked into the war room.

The sun filtering through the cracked windows cast long shadows across the floor. Dust danced in the golden light, too peaceful for a place still reeking of blood and burnt history. The table at the center of the room was littered with old war maps, broken radios, and files no one dared to throw away. Some ghosts lived on paper.

"You went to him," Ruth said, her voice as still as the room.

Emily didn't answer right away. She peeled off her gloves, tossed them onto the table, and leaned forward to study a map she had memorized two years ago.

"I did," she said simply.

Ruth's eyes finally lifted. "And what did the devil say?"

"He asked if I was curious or guilty."

Ruth gave a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. "He's good at that. Worming under your skin. Smiling through cracked lips. Pretending he's human."

Emily met her gaze. "He is human."

Ruth straightened. "Not to me. Not to Elizabeth. Not to the men who died trying to keep this city standing."

The name Elizabeth hung between them for a second too long.

Emily looked away. "I didn't say I forgave him. I haven't forgotten what he's done."

"Then why keep going back?"

There was no accusation in Ruth's voice, only exhaustion. That made it worse.

Emily let out a slow breath. "Because he's the only one who knows what we actually lost. Not in numbers. Not in towns or outposts. In pieces of ourselves we'll never get back."

"And what?" Ruth asked. "You're hoping if you stare at him long enough, the pieces will come back?"

"No." Emily's voice dropped. "I just want to understand why he still smiles."

Ruth slammed a pin down onto the table, piercing the map. "Maybe he smiles because he knows he's still winning."

Emily stood still, her jaw tightening.

"I'll handle him," she said. "You don't have to like it. Just back me."

"I always do," Ruth replied coldly. "But don't confuse that with approval."

Down in the cells, the air hung heavy with mold and iron.

Raphael leaned against the cold wall, his head tilted back, eyes half-lidded. His wrists burned where the shackles dug deep, but he welcomed the pain. It grounded him. Reminded him he was still alive. Still defiant.

Still dangerous.

He hadn't seen her since morning, but her presence lingered. Emily Valen. A woman forged in fire and tempered in grief.

He'd expected her to be hollow. He hadn't expected her to be real.

When the door groaned open, he didn't move. Footsteps echoed slow, measured, lighter than the guards.

But it wasn't her.

The girl who entered was younger, lean, dressed in a medic's coat with silver embroidery near the collar. She kept her distance. Smart girl.

"You're not bleeding enough for me to care," she said flatly.

"Then why are you here?" Raphael rasped.

"Orders." She opened a canteen and tossed it toward him. It landed inches from his foot.

"Water?'' he asked, skeptical.

"Poison." She smirked. "But if we're lucky, you'll live long enough to regret drinking it."

He smiled as he picked up the canteen. "I like her friends. Almost as charming."

The girl Helen, according to her badge tilted her head. "She's not your friend."

"Not yet," he murmured.

Helen narrowed her eyes. "You think this is a game, don't you?"

"No," Raphael said, serious now. "I think this is the quiet part before the next war. And I want to know what side she's on when it starts."

Helen didn't reply. She turned and left without another word.

Back upstairs, Elizabeth leaned against the wall just beyond the war room door, cane resting lightly beside her. She had been listening. Of course she had.

Emily and Ruth. Secrets and steel.

Elizabeth had no intention of trusting either.

She had watched too many leaders fall in love with monsters, thinking they were the ones who could tame them.

Let Emily flirt with her enemy. Let her dream that understanding him would somehow make peace feel real. Elizabeth knew better.

She had scars to prove it.

As she turned to leave, her limp echoed down the corridor like a metronome counting down to something none of them could yet see.