The Light They Chose

The service stair climbed in a tight spiral, its stone steps slick with dust and water. Aren took the rear of the line, one hand against the wall, the other useless at his side. Ahead, Seraphine kept the wounded moving in pairs. Vael carried a human soldier whose leg had been splinted with a broken board. Odran, limping but upright, went ahead to find the tower door.

Every few steps, the stair shuddered. Once, grit came down in a stream. The wounded flinched, and the line bunched up until Seraphine turned and got them moving again, one voice at a time.

“Keep your feet under you,” she said. “We have room at the landing. Take the next step, then the next.”

The words were plain. They worked.

Aren tried to lift a fallen pack clear of the steps. His right fingers curled around the strap and gave him no useful grip. He took the weight with his left arm, nearly lost his balance, and shoved it against the wall instead. A wounded demon soldier glanced back at him, then shifted to make room without comment.

At the next turn, Odran called down, “Door’s open. There are soldiers on the other side.”

Aren heard boots and the scrape of weapons being raised. Vael kept climbing. The human soldier in his arms had gone pale, his jaw clenched against each jolt. Vael adjusted his hold to keep the splinted leg level.

“Wait,” Aren called.

Vael looked down over his shoulder.

“Let me go first.”

“The stair is too narrow for that,” Vael said. He kept moving.

Aren had no answer that would change the geometry. He followed, listening to the weapons above.

The tower landing opened onto a low stone room with shuttered windows and a broad lamp table. Five human soldiers held the far side, crossbows trained at the stair. Their captain stood among them with a short sword drawn. Odran was beside her, one hand braced on the wall.

“Hold,” the captain said.

The line stopped. Vael stood on the last step, still carrying the wounded man. A crossbowman aimed at his chest. Another tracked the demon soldiers behind him.

The captain's eyes fixed on Vael. “Demon Lord.”

Vael's expression stayed severe. “Captain.”

“Set him down and step away.”

The human soldier in Vael’s arms made a strained sound as the captain’s gaze passed over him. Vael moved carefully to the landing. He lowered the man into the waiting arms of two soldiers, giving them time to take his weight before he withdrew his hands.