Her Valkyries found Maria on the ground looking pale, barely breathing. Elara reached her first, her face white with terror. The others followed, forming a circle around their fallen commander.
"Commander!" Elara's voice cracked.
"Commander, can you hear me?"
Maria's eyes were open. They stared at the frozen sky, at the statue of the dragon, at the mile of dead winter she had created.
She tried to speak. Her lips moved, but no sound came.
Inga was already working, her ice magic shifting to healing, pulling the cold from Maria's wounds, sealing the worst of the bleeding. Bryn wrapped her in cloaks, her hands shaking. Sigrid and Signa stood guard, their eyes scanning the frozen horizon for any new threat. Astra and Freya knelt beside Elara, their hands pressed to Maria's chest, lending their strength to Inga's healing.
"Don't you dare die," Elara whispered.
"Don't you dare. Not after that. Not after everything."
