Henry

Four or five mercenaries held Henry fast and dragged him away, his heels plowing two deep furrows through the rough ground.

Broken stones flew and dust filled the air as they hauled him stumbling out of the ruins, which were still giving their final groans.

"Let me go! Hayne's still in there!" he roared, his bulky body unleashing terrifying strength as he nearly broke free.

More mercenaries, still shaken, rushed over and dragged him away from the danger zone as it continued to collapse.

Only after they had retreated dozens of paces did the bone-chilling roar behind them finally cease. Dust slowly settled, burying the magnificent underground hall beneath an enormous, silent tomb.

The mercenaries collapsed as though every ounce of strength had been drained from them, gasping for breath, their faces smeared with dirt, dried blood, and lingering fear. The hands restraining Henry loosened.

Henry spun around, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the survivors slumped on the ground, avoiding his gaze.

His chest heaved, his voice hoarse and cracked from emotion and the dust he had inhaled. "You... just ran?! You left him in there alone!!"

He brandished his fist, covered in filthy blood, and pointed at the deathly silent ruins, an uncontrollable sob creeping into his voice. "That was Hayne! The man who saved you over and over!"

"Who stood in front when the monster charged?! How many people did he save along the way?! Well?!"

His gaze swept over Carl, then every surviving face.

Shame, lingering terror, and numbness mingled on those faces.

Carl opened her mouth, but in the end, she merely wiped her face wearily.

"Carl! Even you..." Henry was beside himself with rage.

"Enough, Henry!" Carl raised her head, her face ashen, a deeper exhaustion and clarity in her eyes. "That fissure... the whole ceiling was coming down!

"We... couldn't get across!"

"Hayne was cut off on the other side. If we'd stayed, we'd all have died!" She pointed at the ruins buried beneath huge stones and broken pillars, her voice dry. "His section might not have collapsed completely... there's still a chance. But if we'd stayed, we'd have been dead for sure."

"So what if we died?!" Henry roared. "Better than scurrying out like rats! He could have left on his own! If it hadn't been for us 'burdens'..." He couldn't go on. Whirling around, he charged toward the ruins like a maddened bull.

"Henry! What are you doing?!" Carl cried out.

"Digging!" Without looking back, Henry frantically clawed at the huge stones and dirt blocking the entrance with his battered hands, oblivious to his torn nails and streaming blood. "He's alive! Hayne won't die that easily! I'm digging him out!"

The gravel scraped his palms raw, but the heavy stones did not budge. He dug mechanically, muttering over and over, "Dig him out... have to dig him out..."

Two mercenaries struggled to their feet, trying to help move a smaller stone.

The ruins suddenly shifted. A stone rolled down, nearly hitting one of them.

"Stop making things worse!" Carl snapped, stepping forward to grab Henry. "You'll bring this down again and bury yourself too!"

"Let go of me!" Henry shook Carl off and punched the rock wall beside him, splitting his skin. "Then what do you want me to do?! Sit here like the rest of you?

"Wait for some goddamn miracle?!"

His furious shout echoed hollowly over the ruins.

Just then-

"Crack... clatter..."

A faint succession of tumbling stones came from the other side of the ruins.

Henry jerked his head up. A glimmer of hope flared in his bloodshot eyes, only to be swallowed by an even deeper rage.

Several figures struggled out through a relatively weak fissure at the edge.

Their clothes were in tatters, their bodies covered in blood and grime, and their faces dazed by their narrow escape from death.

They were the Ironborn, Crow's Eye's men.

One had lost an arm, the stump hastily bandaged, while another had a gash across his face deep enough to expose bone.

They panted, still struggling to gather their wits.

"You... you bastards!!" Henry let out an inhuman roar and charged like an enraged bull, dragging his battle-axe behind him. "Crow's Eye's dogs! How many people have you killed?!"

Only one thought remained in his mind: Kill them all. Avenge Hayne. Avenge the mercenaries who died.

Intimidated by his savage fury, the Ironborn instinctively tried to retreat and draw their weapons, but they were in such poor condition that their movements were a fraction too slow.

The bloodstained battle-axe was about to cleave the head of the one-armed Ironborn at the front-

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A rapid, perfectly synchronized series of metallic crashes suddenly rang out!

Dozens of large, iron-rimmed oak shields emerged from the shadows of the shattered walls. They slammed into the ground, instantly forming a curved shield wall that cut precisely between Henry and the Ironborn.

Then spears swiftly thrust through the gaps between the shields, their tips gleaming coldly. Like a steel hedgehog suddenly bristling with spines, they aimed not only at Henry but also threatened every survivor behind him.

"Form ranks! Surround them!"

The cold command came from behind and to one side.

More guards in matching leather armor, their expressions grim, silently poured from concealed positions throughout the ruins like hunters who had long been lying in wait.

Moving swiftly and in perfect coordination, they spread along both flanks of the first shield wall.

They formed a larger, tighter encirclement, trapping Henry, Carl, the surviving mercenaries, and the newly emerged Ironborn at its center.

They were Corlyon's guards.

Clearly, they had been lurking nearby all along, waiting for their prey.

"Drop your weapons!" A sharp-eyed guard captain with gaunt cheeks stepped forward, his voice icy. "By Lord Corlyon's command, all survivors are to surrender their weapons immediately and submit to custody."

"Anyone who disobeys will be killed on sight!"

The surviving mercenaries went deathly pale, their relief at having escaped alive vanishing completely.

They exchanged glances, staring at the heavily armed guards surrounding them, their killing intent palpable.

Clatter! Someone dropped a broken sword.

Like a chain reaction, the dozen or so surviving mercenaries, Carl included, threw down their weapons with ashen faces.

Only Henry still gripped his battle-axe tightly, his chest heaving. He glared at the guard captain with blood-red eyes and rasped, "You're... all in this together..."

"Last warning. Drop your weapon." The guard captain's hand settled on his sword hilt.

Carl hurried forward and grabbed Henry's arm, growling, "Henry! Don't be a fool! You have to stay alive if you want a future!"

The muscles in Henry's arm tightened like iron, trembling violently.

He looked at Carl's reddened eyes, at the pleading, numb gazes of his companions, then turned toward the deathly silent ruins where Aegon lay buried.

At last, the savage fury sustaining him ebbed like a retreating tide, leaving only an endless, hollow cold.

Clang! The heavy battle-axe fell from his hand and struck the ground, kicking up dust.

The guards swarmed forward and roughly bound everyone's wrists behind their backs with coarse hemp rope.

Whether mercenaries or Ironborn, in their eyes, they were merely "property requiring supervision" and "sources of instability."

Henry was shoved along with the others, driven toward the only raised platform deep within the ruins that remained reasonably intact.

He cast one last look back at the ruins-

His heart was dead ash.