The mountain remained completely silent long after Cassian disappeared into the blinding wall of the storm. No one moved from their positions behind the wooden stakes. No one spoke a single word to their neighbor. Even the wind itself seemed quieter now, dropping into a low, breathless hiss as though the ridge itself had become afraid of making too much noise in the aftermath of his departure.
Slowly, the falling snow began to drift across Darius's severed head where it lay half-buried near the frozen perimeter line. The pale, dry flakes stuck to the dark frozen blood and clotted hair alike, gradually blurring the sharp lines of his final, shocked expression. Several front-line soldiers stared down at the spot blankly, their hands still locked around the cold steel barrels of their rifles, utterly unable to fully process what they had just witnessed with their own eyes.
