Amanda called Mia to the tent. Alone. At night. With no witnesses.
Mia entered with her arms crossed. Her eyes were cold — ever since the day Amanda had brought Naya ho, the wolf-girl had barely spoken to her.
“You wanted to talk,” Mia said, stopping near the entrance. “So talk.”
Amanda stood by the table, her back turned. Clad in black armor, helt firmly in place. The Reaper.
“I need to tell you sothing,” her voice ca out tallic and hollow through the helt. “The truth.”
“The truth?” Mia let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’re choosing to tell the truth now? After you married soone else? After you brought her into our ho?”
“It’s not what you think,” Amanda said, turning around.
“Oh? And what do I think?” Mia took a step forward. “I think you’re a liar. I think you’ve been hiding sothing since the day you first appeared in our camp. I think I married a shadow, not a person.”
“You’re right,” Amanda said quietly. “You did marry a shadow.”
She raised her hands to her helt.
Mia froze.
“What are you doing?”
“What I should have done a long ti ago.”
The helt ca off slowly.
Golden hair spilled over her shoulders. Red eyes — the sa vivid crimson as the helt’s lenses, but alive, exhausted, and filled with pain. Delicate, unmistakably feminine features that could never be mistaken for a man’s.
Mia stared. For a long ti. In her eyes swirled surprise, pain, relief, and sothing else Amanda couldn’t quite na.
“You’re a woman,” Mia whispered, her voice barely audible. “You’re… a woman.”
“Yes.”
“I knew it,” Mia shook her head slowly. “I felt it. But I didn’t believe myself. I thought I was going insane.”
“You weren’t going insane.”
“And now?” Mia gave a weak, broken laugh. “Now I really am losing my mind. Because my husband… turned out to be a woman.”
“I’m sorry,” Amanda lowered her head, golden strands falling across her face. “I never wanted to deceive you. But I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Mia said, stepping closer. “You simply chose not to pick .”
“I chose my brother!” Amanda said quietly. “Kaelan is my brother, Mia. I chose the city. I chose survival. You were on that list. But not at the top.”
“I suspected as much,” Mia nodded. “And it… it hurts. But I understand.”
She reached out and took Amanda’s hand.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
“And the Reaper?”
“He stays,” Amanda looked down at the helt she was holding. “Kaelan will wear the armor.”
“He’s missing an arm.”
“Torglin will make him a prosthetic. An artificial hand. No one will notice it inside the gauntlet.”
“And Naya?”
“Naya will live with Kaelan,” Amanda paused. “Believing that he is .”
Mia froze.
“That’s cruel,” she said.
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“It’s the only way,” Amanda shook her head. “If she learns the truth, she’ll suffer. If I stay, I’ll lose myself. If Kaelan refuses, the city will fall.”
“And what if she wants… intimacy?”
“Kaelan will take off the helt,” Amanda shrugged. “In the dark. By candlelight. She’ll see his face and think it’s mine. She doesn’t know what I look like. No one does.”
“And what if she figures out it’s not you?”
“She won’t,” Amanda shook her head. “She believes in the Reaper. She loves the Reaper. And the Reaper is the armor and the helt. The face doesn’t matter.”
Mia was silent for a long ti. Then she burst out laughing and sank to the ground, clutching her stomach.
“You’re a monster,” she said, still laughing through the pain. “You ca up with a plan that destroys the lives of everyone around you.”
“I know.”
“But you’re right,” Mia sighed. “There’s no other way.”
She looked at Amanda — at her golden hair, her crimson eyes, her pale face.
“You’re beautiful,” she said softly. “You know that?”
“I…”
“Don’t,” Mia raised her hand. “Just… let hold you. One last ti.”
Amanda nodded.
Mia pulled her into a tight embrace. Long and fierce.
“Goodbye,” she whispered against Amanda’s shoulder. “Be happy. You deserve it.”
“You too,” Amanda whispered back, hugging her just as tightly. “You too.”
They stood like that for a long ti. Eventually, Mia pulled away.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll watch over them.”
“Thank you,” Amanda took her hand. “Thank you for everything.”
“Don’t thank ,” Mia gave a small, sad smile. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for them… and for myself.”
She turned and walked out of the tent.
Amanda remained alone.
Torglin worked through the entire night.
By morning, the prosthetic was ready. A steel fra wrapped in a leather sheath, with fingers that bent almost like real ones. Kaelan slipped it on, tightened the straps, and his right arm was whole again.
“How does it feel?” the dwarf asked.
“Strange,” Kaelan said, flexing the fingers. “Heavy.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Torglin grinned. “I made the best prosthetic in the world. You’ll be able to hold a spoon with it — swinging a sword, though? Probably not.”
“I won’t need a sword anymore,” Kaelan stared at his new hand. “From now on, I’ll rule with my head.”
“A wise decision,” the dwarf nodded approvingly.
Kaelan looked at Torglin.
“You’re staying?” he asked.
“No,” the dwarf shook his head. “My place is beside my lady. I’m leaving with her.”
“I see,” Kaelan didn’t argue. “Then thank you for the arm.”
“Don’t ntion it,” Torglin smirked. “Take care of it. And yourself. And the city.”
He paused for a mont, then added with a mischievous glint in his eye:
“Oh, and Chief — I also forged a set of black armor for you, just like the Reaper’s. Different alloy, though. Don’t thank .”
He put on his helt and vanished before Kaelan could even process the words.
Kaelan was left alone. With a new arm. And a new life that was beginning today.
The next morning, Kaelan put on the black armor. Breastplate, pauldrons, greaves. The prosthetic disappeared completely under the gauntlet — no one would ever suspect it was artificial.
Amanda handed him the helt.
“The final touch,” she said quietly.
Kaelan took the helt in his left hand and stared at it. At the empty crimson lenses gazing back at him.
“Are you ready?” Amanda asked.
“No,” Kaelan gave a faint smirk. “But that doesn’t matter.”
He slid the helt over his head.
The red lenses flared to life.
“How do I look?” he asked, his voice now cold and tallic.
“Like the Reaper,” Amanda stepped closer and adjusted his cloak. “Like the real Reaper.”
“That’s enough,” Kaelan nodded.
He stepped out of the tent, climbed the wall, and took the exact spot where Amanda had always stood.
Below, near the gates, the beastfolk squads were already gathering for another training session. From inside the Reaper’s armor, Kaelan watched as Amanda smiled softly, placed the golden helt of the Guardian on her head, and vanished from sight.
Last night, Torglin had worked through the entire night, carefully stripping the black paint from her armor to restore its original golden shine.
“Goodbye, sister,” Kaelan whispered, a single tear slipping down his cheek beneath the helt. “Be happy.”
A month had passed.
Naya was slowly growing accustod to her new life. To a husband who never removed his helt in front of others. To a city that buzzed with rumors about the legendary Reaper. To the quiet that had finally settled after the war.
She didn’t complain. She was the Khan’s daughter — she had been taught patience.
But at night, when they were alone in the tent, she felt the tension. The Reaper sat beside her, yet never touched her. He spoke, but never truly looked at her. He was there… and yet he felt like he was behind a wall.
“Don’t you want ?” she asked one night.
“I do,” the Reaper’s voice ca out tallic and hollow. “But I can’t.”
“Why?”
“My body… it’s badly scarred,” the Reaper lowered his head. “I don’t want you to see like this.”
“I don’t care,” Naya took his hand. “I love you. Not your body.”
“I know,” the Reaper gently squeezed her hand. “But let … let get used to it. To being loved.”
Naya nodded. She didn’t push.
Yet a month later, she asked again.
“Can you take off your helt?” she said softly. “Even just in the dark. By candlelight. I want to see your face.”
The Reaper was silent for a long ti.
“Alright,” he finally said.
He raised his hands to the helt.
Naya held her breath.
The helt ca off slowly.
In the dim light of a single candle, she saw his face. It wasn’t disfigured. It wasn’t terrifying. Just… ordinary. Sharp cheekbones, unusual eyes, short dark hair.
“You…” she whispered. “You’re not scarred at all.”
“No,” the Reaper shook his head. “I lied. I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid,” he took her hand. “I was afraid that if you saw … you would stop loving .”
“Silly man,” Naya smiled gently. “I love you. Not your face.”
She pressed herself against him.
Kaelan wrapped his left arm around her — keeping his right arm carefully raised, terrified the prosthetic would give him away.
“I love you,” Naya whispered.
“I love you too,” Kaelan replied quietly.
In his real voice. Not the cold, tallic one. His own.
Naya didn’t notice the difference.
She had never heard the Reaper’s true voice before.
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