Overwhelming Firepower

In a past that will never be forgotten by those who know. The night Veyra Thornehart spent her last moments alive was quieter than most nights in Ironhold.

Snow fell beyond the fortress walls, carried by the cold northern wind that howled across the northern mountains before crashing against the stone of Ironhold.

Frost gathered along the outer battlements, creeping across iron railings and frozen banners that barely moved in the night air.

Inside the inner keep, however, the world felt different. The air was warm, thick with the steady glow of oil lamps set along the walls, their flames swaying gently as if even the light itself did not wish to disturb the quiet.

The faint scent of burning cedarwood drifted through the halls, mixed with the smell of old stone and polished steel

Servants moved quietly through the halls, their footsteps light, their voices low. Word had spread that the Duchess should be resting, and no one wished to disturb her.

Yet the door to her chamber was open. Veyra Thornehart did not like closed doors. She loved freedom more than anything else.

She sat near the window, wrapped in a thick fur-lined shawl, the pale light of the snow outside reflecting in her ruby-red eyes. Her long silver hair fell over her shoulders, slightly unkempt, as if the maids had tried to fix it several times only for her to wave them away.

On the bed behind her lay a small bundle, sleeping peacefully. The newborn child made a faint sound, his tiny hand curling before going still again.

Veyra smiled softly as she looked at her child. ”I’m sorry, little one. If I were feeling better, I would have brought you to the mountain ranges to see the sunrise.”

Her voice was gentle, warm, the kind that made the cold northern keep feel like home.

A faint knock came from the doorway, followed by the sound of heavy boots stopping just outside the room.

Veyra did not turn; she had already sensed the presence on the other side. ”You can come in, Vardon. You are standing there like a guard again.”

The door opened slowly. Duke Vardon Thornehart entered the chamber, his tall frame nearly filling the doorway.

Even without armor, he carried the weight of a battlefield with him, his presence alone enough to make most men straighten their backs.

Yet the moment his eyes fell on the woman by the window, that presence softened, if only slightly.

”You should be in bed,” he said.

”I was in bed,” Veyra replied calmly. ”All day. If I stay there any longer, I will forget how to walk.”

”You are not well.”

”Is that how you talk to your lovely wife?” she said with a faint smile.

Vardon did not respond immediately. He stepped closer instead, his boots making almost no sound against the carpeted floor.

His eyes moved from Veyra to the bed behind her, stopping for a brief moment on the sleeping child, before returning to her face.

”You should not be sitting by the window. The cold is bad for you.”

Veyra let out a quiet laugh. ”The cold never bothered me before. I have been in the North for years now. If the cold had bothered me, I would not have married a Thornehart.”

She spoke lightly, but her hand trembled slightly as she adjusted the shawl around her shoulders.

Vardon’s eyes did not miss it. He reached forward without saying a word and pulled the shawl tighter around her, his large hands moving with a care he never showed on the battlefield.

”You are forcing yourself again,” he said quietly.

Veyra looked up at him, her ruby-red eyes calm, almost amused. ”Of course not, you’re just overly worrying again.”

”I am not worrying.”

”You are. Your brows have been like that since morning.”

Vardon frowned slightly. Anyone who knew him would be quite surprised to see him so expressive.

”I told you that you shouldn’t have gone to the battlefield while pregnant. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

Veyra tilted her head slightly, the faintest smile touching her lips. ”I bear the proud name of Thornehart. When a monster wave comes, no matter what, a Thornehart must always be on the frontlines.”

”I was already there; I could have dealt with it myself. There was no need for you to do such a risky thing.”

”So you want me to twiddle my thumbs as I await my heroic husband’s return?” Veyra scoffed as she spoke. ”You know I would never do such a thing.”

His gaze hardened slightly, but there was no anger in it, only the kind of frustration that came from knowing the other person would never change.

”You were carrying our child,” he said at last. ”That alone was reason enough to stay behind.”

”... You know that the monster waves are getting bigger and stronger every time it happens.” Veyra, who had a light tone before, got a bit serious.

”What if you were unable to defeat a monster? What if the wave overwhelms you? I don’t know what I would do if I weren’t there to help you.”

Vardon approached his strong wife, who seemed to be holding back tears, and held her hand. ”And I don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you. So I just want you to-”

Vardon wasn’t able to finish his sentence as Veyra started coughing up blood. He also noticed that her eyes seemed to have become a little yellowish.

For a moment, the Iron Duke of the North did not move, as if his body had forgotten how.

”... Veyra.”

She tried to turn away, as if to hide it, but another cough followed, heavier this time. A thin line of blood ran down from the corner of her lips, and the faint golden tint in her eyes became more visible under the lamplight.

”SOMEONE CALL FOR A HEALER! CALL A CLERIC NOW!” Vardon’s voice boomed. Cael, who was sleeping, woke up crying.

”Now look what you’ve done.” Veyra scolded as she was about to get up to pick up Cael, she suddenly felt her knees weaken, and she stumbled forward. Vardon caught her before she fell.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, steady and strong, yet the moment his hand touched her back, he felt how cold her body had become beneath the shawl.

She was too cold, much too cold. Far colder than the winter outside.

Vardon tightened his grip around her shoulders, as if his strength alone could force warmth back into her body.

”Veyra...”

His voice was low, rough, nothing like the commanding tone that made soldiers tremble.

Footsteps rushed through the hall. The door burst open as the healer and a white-robed cleric entered, followed by two maids carrying cloth and water.

”Move aside, my lord.”

The healer stopped the moment she saw Veyra’s face. The faint yellow tint in her eyes, the pale skin. The blood at the corner of her lips.

The cleric stepped forward, already raising her staff, light gathering at the tip as she began to chant a healing prayer.

Soft golden light spread across Veyra’s body, flowing over her chest, her arms, her face. For a moment, the room was filled with warmth.

Then the light flickered, and the cleric’s brows tightened. She prayed harder than before, the glow growing brighter, stronger, enough to heal wounds that would have killed most men.

But Veyra’s breathing did not change. In fact, not only her eyes but even her white skin was turning yellow.

The healer and the cleric knew of this sickness; it was something that current medicine could not heal, no matter what. The only thing that could probably heal this was the Temple of Life’s elixir.

But that was something from the empire to the far east. Even if Vardon gave up everything he had, the temple of Life wouldn’t give up its most valuable asset, especially to an outsider.

Vardon looked at Veyra, who was quickly getting worse, and bit his lips until they bled. In this cold north, were snow falls for the longest time, Veyra was his shining light, the radiant sun in his eyes.

That sun was now dimming, and he would not allow it. ”What are you two doing?! Heal her!”

The healer and the cleric both froze for a brief moment when Vardon shouted. Neither of them had ever heard the Iron Duke raise his voice like that, and they had never seen such a look of despair on his face.

Even on the battlefield against thousands of monsters, barbarians, or an enemy army, he remained ever stoic, ever steady, but now that man had actual tears forming in his eyes.

”My lord...” the healer said quietly. She didn’t know what else to say. The cleric did not say anything and simply knelt down on the floor and started praying.

”I said heal her!” The Iron Duke was about to break down. When the sound of someone entering the room was heard.

A young Lucen Thornehart with a wooden sword entered the room. This was happening as a maid was trying to calm down the crying Cael.

Lucen stepped into the chamber without understanding the heavy silence that filled the room.

He had been practicing in the courtyard earlier, swinging his wooden sword against the training post the way Sir Thalos had shown him. When he heard his father shouting, he ran as fast as he could.

Now he stood at the doorway, snow still clinging to his boots, the small wooden sword hanging loosely from his hand.

The room was filled with people. The healer holding his mother’s hand, the cleric kneeling on the floor.

Servants standing frozen near the walls. Then he looked at the center of the room, his father holding his mother.

Lucen blinked a few times, then his eyes moved to the bed where the newborn was crying in the maid’s arms.

He then saw his mother, who was always so energetic, looking so weak. Even his Father was showing a face that he had never shown him before.

Lucen then noticed the blood on the floor as well as the yellowish skin of his mother. He saw the way Vardon was holding her as if she might disappear if he let go. His grip on the wooden sword tightened.

”.... M-mother?”

When Veyra heard the voice of her eldest son, she slowly opened her eyes and forced a gentle smile onto her lips, the same warm smile she had shown him since the day he was born.

”Lucen...”

Her voice was weaker than usual, but it still carried the warmth that always made him feel safe.

Lucen took a step forward, then another, his wooden sword slipping from his hand and falling to the floor with a dull sound he did not even notice.

”Mother! What happened? Why are you... Why are you like that?”

He stopped in front of them, his small hands clenching into fists. Vardon did not answer; he could not. Veyra lifted one trembling hand and reached toward Lucen.

”... I’m sorry, my wonderful son. It would seem that your mother will not be able to witness you...”

Veyra could not finish her words as she started to tear up a bit. Seeing this Vardon started murmuring something to himself.

”Please, Lady Velmira, do not take my wife. Take me instead, please, please, take me instead.”

Lucen could not comprehend what was happening, and his younger brother simply continued to cry in the background.

”I... I really wanted to see you two grow up to become wonderful grown-ups... I wanted to go on adventures with you alongside your Father...” Veyra gnashed her teeth. ”I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to Lady Velmira’s side just yet. I have so many things I want to do with you.”

Hearing what his wife just said, Vardon could no longer hold it in and started crying as well. Despite not fully understanding what was happening, Lucen started to cry alongside everyone else.

Veyra slowly lifted her trembling hand and placed it on Lucen’s head, gently brushing his silver hair the way she always did when he finished training.

”... I’m sorry for showing such a weak side to you.” Veyra once again tried to smile, but it was getting harder to do.

”Please, my son, take care of your Father and younger brother for me. I-” Veyra was unable to continue what she was going to say as her entire body started trembling and her eyes closed.

”What is happening!?” Vardon shouted. ”Do something, please!” Vardon begged the healer and the cleric, but the two of them already knew nothing could be done.

The healer slowly lowered her head, her hands trembling as she stepped back. ”... My lord… There is nothing more we can do.”

The cleric could only continue to pray.

Vardon did not seem to hear any of them, as he did not want to hear such answers. He held Veyra closer, his hands shaking as if he could force her to stay by strength alone.

”Veyra... Stay... Please just stay...”

For a brief moment, her fingers moved weakly against his arm. Her eyes opened one last time, barely. She looked at him, then at Lucen, then at the crying newborn in the maid’s arms.

A faint smile appeared on her lips. ”It was... A great life... Thank you for... The love, my dear... I love you all...” Those were her final words as she closed her eyes, never to open them again.