Wemmbu stood at the edge of the craters, chest heaving, mace still clutched in his knuckles. He'd carved through the last wave—dozens of them, nameless and faceless. They'd scattered like leaves in a storm.
But Y/n wasn't among them.
He scanned the wreckage again. Tilted slabs of stone. A broken sword hilt. A banner, torn and smoldering.
Wemmbu
his voice cracks when he shoutsY/n!
Silence answered.
Then—a shift. Movement in the rubble. Not footsteps. Something smaller. Near the lip of the nearest crater, half buried under a chunk of obsidian, something white poked out.
Wemmbu
rushes over, dropping to his kneesWhat the—
He dug it out with his bare hands. An egg. Smooth and pale as bone, unmarred by the chaos around it. It was warm to the touch.
Wemmbu
turns it over in his hands, realization dawningNo. No, no, no...
He looked up at the battlefield again. The signs were there now—heavy boot prints heading east. Trails of trampled grass. Arrows stuck in the ground, pointing the way they came.
