The skies above sector six were unusually heavy and dark for the time of day- as was the mood that had overtaken the crowded cart.

Ellie had sat in her corner of the creaking wagon- cradling her right hand in her lap. Opposite to her, Kester sat with his head hung forwards- staring at his callused hands.

At the back of the cart sat Asrael- staring at the distant sunset over the unending fields of grain- swinging his freshly healed ankles over the ledge while staring at the army following their trail on either side of the road. The Banshees, the Ogre, Kerras and the one soldier who had survived the assault.

Next to him, Neda sat and stared at the blood-red skies with a raised brow- confused as to whether to find the sight of the shrinking, smoking city in the distance beautiful or dreadful. She hadn’t dared to meet Asrael’s eyes for the entire ride, but every now and then, she would turn her head to see his dark-and-pale outline. She had accepted that he would likely forever be angered at her for what she had done. It was, after all, her fault that all their work had been for naught and that he had gotten violated by that woman. Still... even if he was angry at her, he had proven that their relationship went beyond anger. He kept her around, after all- did he not?

Deciding it was time to brave his fury, she took advantage of the bumpy ride and used it to scoot sideways with nearly-unseen movements. She startled as he puffed his chest out and rested his arms on either side to look out across the darkening, red skies and felt a cool breeze flow past his black hair. As she stole a glance at his locks, she saw that he did not carry himself as he usually did. His brow was low- it always was, but the bags beneath his eyes seemed a smidgen lighter- as did the dark sheen to his green eyes.

In his peripheral view, he could see her open mouth and the intensity to her red eyes- the glaze reflecting the setting sun like fiery mirrors in the light, warm breeze that made her long, honeyed hair flow in the air.

“H-hey... I’m sorry...” She brought her hands up to her lap and nervously fidgeted her fingers. Asrael raised a brow and glanced sideways at her, before returning to stare at the fields of yellow, swaying wheat.

“For?” Of course he would choose this opportunity to test her. She nervously fidgeted her hands in her lap and whispered:

“Y’know... for what we made you do and... for what she did to you?” Asrael’s smile disappeared for a moment, but the half-smile, half-frown was quick to return.

“Make no mistake, I am still frustrated with your idiocy, but I suppose it worked out for the better. This test went without fail. Well... relatively without fail. We still have some issues to work out, but as soon as we have a means to mass-produce our soldiers, we can rebuild.” She understood most his words, except the one about something massive. Strengthened by what appeared to be forgiveness in his voice, however, she braved scooting even closer as he continued:

“It seems we still have things to discover about the Mark and my magic. Thomas has had thirty years to mull it over and although I doubt it, he may have something to assist me. I am certain his allegiance can be swayed one way or the other.” He shone a maniacal grin and a pair of wide, white bulbs that warmed Neda’s heart. This was the Asrael she knew- the confident, cruel man that had a space in his cold heart for her. This... was the Asrael she loved. Her stomach shifted comfortably as she finally closed the narrow gap between them and braved laying her hand atop his. She expected him to withdraw or to glare at her, but to her surprise, he gripped her fingers with his own- intertwining them, but never ceased grinning at the sunset.

She breathed a deep lungful of his scent and leaned sideways to rest her head on his shoulder- determined to make use of this moment of his weakness- his absent-minded envisioning of the army in the mirror.

“Assie...” She whispered, but if he heard her, he did not make it known until she said: “My girly-parts are tingling.” This won her a narrowing of her eyes and a momentary displeased frown, only for it to turn into one of his crooked smiles.

“Mine too, harlot. Mine too.”

Behind the Blightlander and the necromancer, Kester and Ellie looked to the setting sun and the smoking rubble that had once been Pilta with fond memories- biting back their common panic while battling their pain. Neither had ever been so far away from the city- neither had ever been on a trajectory for anywhere outside sector six. But now... they would be departing for their new lives in a strange land, underneath the tutelage and care of an uncaring tyrant.

“Gods help us...” Kester mumbled.