The road back felt longer than the one they had taken out. Dust hung thick in the air, and no one spoke much. Moss slumped over Bran's saddle, breathing shallow but steady, his arms limp against the bird's feathers. Lyra kept close to his side, one hand resting near his shoulder to make sure he didn't slip.
No one said it aloud, but they all understood. What had happened with that giant of stone, the way it had risen from the earth, and how Moss had stopped it, was something they couldn't easily explain.
At one point, Kain broke the silence. "When we return, this stays between us."
Lyra gave a quiet nod, still watching Moss. "Serra's smart. Too smart. If she hears about this, she'll have him on a table with that damned crystal before he wakes up."
Dole exhaled a slow breath, eyes forward. "Agreed. We say the beast fled. Moss got hit hard, and that's it. No one will question it."
Kain looked at him from atop his chocobo, his expression unreadable. "You'd lie to protect him?"
Dole met the dragoon's gaze. "Wouldn't you? After what you saw?"
There was a long pause. Kain eventually smirked, barely visible beneath his helm. "You've got spine, mage. More than most I've met."
It was the closest thing to respect Dole had heard from any soldier since leaving the empire. The others caught it too. For all his sharp edges and rigid discipline, Kain wasn't like the other imperials barking orders and claiming territory. He did his duty, nothing more, and that made him easier to trust.
When the settlement finally came into view, the group's exhaustion was masked behind their practiced composure. Workers and guards moved about, busy as ever, shouting for runners and clearing wagons. Another convoy had arrived, and the air buzzed with rumor and tension.
Lyra and Dole helped Moss down, carrying him toward the healer tents before anyone could ask questions. Serra was nearby, sorting through vials and reagents, her eyes flicking toward them for a moment. "Rough day?" she asked, brow raised.
"Nothing we couldn't handle," Dole replied, forcing an easy grin. "Moss took a hit when aether beasts cornered us, but he'll be fine. We drove them off."
Serra nodded slowly, unconvinced but disinterested for the moment. "Good. Drop him off, then come by later. The crystal's readings have been... inconsistent."
"We'll do that," Lyra said quickly, moving Moss along before the alchemist could ask anything more.
Once Moss was resting in the shade of the infirmary tent, the group lingered outside. The faint noise of hammering and shouted orders filled the camp. The newest arrivals were already being sorted into factions, each rep shouting for space and hands.
Varrin passed by briefly, giving Kain a curt nod before disappearing toward the perimeter. Serra's voice carried faintly from across the way, already barking at assistants to handle supplies.
Dole leaned on a fence post, rolling a small stone between his fingers. "You know," he muttered, "I didn't think I'd ever say this, but you're not half bad for a soldier."
Kain glanced at him, one corner of his mouth twitching. "Careful. You'll ruin your reputation."
"Maybe," Dole said with a shrug. "But I've seen plenty of imperials. You're different. You follow orders because you believe in something... not because you're afraid of someone."
Kain's gaze drifted toward the horizon. "Belief doesn't win wars. It just makes them last longer."
Lyra watched them both, her tone quiet but thoughtful. "Maybe belief's the only thing that keeps people from becoming like the empire in the first place."
None of them answered after that.
The sun sank low over the hills, painting the settlement gold and red. The people bustled, tents rustled in the wind, and beneath it all, the faint tremor of the ground hummed again, so subtle it might have been imagined.
Moss stirred once in his sleep, his hand twitching as though reaching for something unseen.