Gil is thrown back from the blast, blinded and half-deaf, his hair stick­ing up and crack­ling with sparks.

With enor­mous effort, he pushes him­self up to his knees. It takes his vision a few sec­onds to recover. Through the swim­ming spots of blurry light, he sees bod­ies lying sprawled on the bridge, their expres­sions locked in twisted agony.

Gil has never seen a dead body before. He leans over, still on his knees, and retches onto the cob­ble­stones.

The sur­viv­ing natives scream out in pain and hor­ror, and stum­ble over the fallen as they flee. Behind him, the pha­lanx clanks closer, block­ing the streets. He shakes his head, and dizzily stag­gers to his feet.

Gil
Kiddu!?

He can barely hear his own voice. The natives are in chaos now. Some of them have stayed behind to drag the still-spasming corpses away, cre­at­ing bot­tle­necks for the oth­ers try­ing to flee. Oth­ers have taken to climb­ing over the bridge’s rail­ing and throw­ing them­selves in the canal below.

He falls to his knees again, too dizzy to stand.

Kiddu
GIL!

He spots her. She’s fol­low­ing the natives’ lead, try­ing to climb up over the rail­ing.

Gil
No… Kiddu…!

He waves at her with all his remain­ing strength, try­ing to get her to come back. It works—she pauses her climb—and then a sec­ond bolt of light­ning ham­mers down from the Divid­ing Wall.

This one hits the canal. Gil can hear scream­ing from the natives below, dying in the lightning-laced water.

He tries to walk towards Kiddu, towards the rail­ing.

Sud­denly, rough hands seize him and throw him on the ground. A heavy foot pushes down on his back. An armored fore­arm presses against his face, pin­ning his cheek against the rough stone. More hands begin tying his hands in a tight knot behind him. He watches as row after row of san­dled feet and greave-covered shins march past his face.

Impe­r­ial Hoplite
Don’t move, boy.

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