Chapter 100: Commitment (Part 2 of 2)

  The Cost of Holding

  The pressure reached the inner passage without breaking it.

  Not a flood.

  A spearpoint.

  Moravin troops didn’t rush blindly—they found the narrow approach, tested it, then pushed hard, betting speed would crack it before anyone noticed.

  Tomas noticed.

  He stepped forward before the others could react.

  Steel met him at once.

  The first blow caught him low, sliding past his guard and biting deep. Pain flared hot and bright. He didn’t retreat. He drove forward instead, blade rising in a short, brutal arc that dropped the man in front of him.

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  Another came immediately.

  Then another.

  The passage filled with noise—boots, breath, metal scraping stone. Tomas took a second strike across the side. He grunted, staggered, then planted his feet again, refusing to give space.

  The enemy hesitated.

  They hadn’t expected resistance to stay.

  Tomas smiled.

  It wasn’t wide. It wasn’t triumphant.

  It was relieved.

  He stepped into them, ignoring the wet warmth spreading through his clothes, cutting down one attacker, then another. A third tried to slip past him toward the inner doors. Tomas caught him by the shoulder and dragged him back, blade flashing once at close range.

  Blood splashed the stone.

  Behind him, voices shouted—too late, just out of reach.

  Jevan slammed into the passage a heartbeat later, shield raised, Kerin right behind him. They saw Tomas still standing and surged forward—

  —and then Tomas swayed.

  He laughed, breath bubbling, and went after one more retreating figure anyway, boots scraping as his strength failed beneath him. His blade caught the man across the back. The body fell. Tomas followed it down.

  Jevan caught him before his head struck the stone.

  The pressure broke then—not because the enemy was wiped out, but because the moment was gone. The passage held. The push stalled. Moravin fell back, unwilling to pay more blood for inches that hadn’t opened.

  Tomas lay in Jevan’s arms, blood pooling fast.

  His eyes were clear.

  “Tell… the captain…” he rasped, voice tearing wetly. “I died… happy.”

  He coughed, a red spray darkening Jevan’s sleeve.

  “I’ll see them… soon.”

  A breath.

  “…thank him… for me.”

  The light went out gently.

  The inner passage never broke.