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"After every winter
There comes a spring
The banners burn
The songbirds sing
Vanquish them all
Then ally with none
This is our call,
Our will, be done"
...
"Scar, I'm out!" Grian yelled, backing away from the fight. Martyn turned to give chase as Ren and Scar exchanged a flurry of blows, flames licking around their skin from the Skizz Blade's hits. Out of the corner of his eye, Martyn saw movement and only just blocked an arrow from Bdubs, turning his attention away from Grian to face the threat from the other side of the fortress.
"Don't do this Bdubs! We don't have to fight here!" Martyn warned, already nocking an arrow as Bdubs fumbled with something. Martyn fired a shot and Bdubs backed off. A glance over his shoulder showed Grian edging around the gate, trying to sneak around him. Martyn glanced between the two enemies, debating who to turn his back on and took another shot at Bdubs who ducked behind a section of the wall. Martyn turned toward Grian again only to pause when his eyes passed over where he could see Ren and Scar fighting. Scar was trying to get back as Ren swung his sword towards him, but Martyn could see from where he was that he would be too slow. Grian must have been watching too because suddenly he was level with Martyn, running forward, calling for Scar, but it was far too late for that too.
"Scar! No!" Grian screamed as Ren's sword came down and Scar crumbled to the ground. Grian froze for half a second, glancing between the two men of Dogwarts. There was no time for him to mourn, Martyn was right behind him and Ren had started to turn towards him. Before either could react, Grian enderpearled away. The look Martyn had seen on his face had been devastated, broken. They had won.
In a bit of a daze, Martyn walked toward Ren, still standing over Scar's body. His ears were ringing, the air silent apart from the crackle of flames, so different to the cacophony of battle seconds before. They both took a moment to breathe and look down at the proof of their victory, was it real? Scar, their biggest enemy, dead for good?
They had won. It almost didn't feel real. Scar looked so much less imposing now, sprawled on the ground. All his fancy words and deadly luck and dangerous charisma had finally failed him. His threat was gone, the Desert Duo, and most of their alliance dead. But at what cost? They'd lost Skizz and Etho, and the only banner left of Dogwarts was BigB. BigB, and the two of them, the Hand and his King, against only three others. Impulse was down to his red life, Bdubs seemed to have run, and now Grian had too. The final six.
The only ones left inside Dogwarts were the two of them, the Hand and the Red King. Two among six. Grian was broken, Impulse and BigB and Bdubs were alone, spooked and running and on their red lives...They could...they could actually survive this. He actually had a chance.
"There can only be one survivor. Would the Red King lay down his life for you? Or will he expect you to do it for him?"
Martyn felt his eyes drawn to Ren's frame as the Voice spoke in his head. Ren, still hunched slightly over Scar's body, staring at what he'd done, at what he'd achieved . When Martyn looked at Ren, all he could see was red , Ren's greyed skin and red eyes, red blood splashed over his skin and the crown on his head, ripped red cloak over his shoulders, blood dripping off the sword that he used to kill Scar. Ren, who Martyn followed through the whole world. Ren, who had told Martyn once before to kill him, to make him red so he would be a threat taken seriously. Ren, his king, his ally, his closest companion, who had just killed their biggest enemy. Ren who was so close to surviving. Only one can survive .
" It's him or you. What's it going to be?"
The Voice spoke again as Ren started to straighten up, to turn around, to face Martyn. To finish him too? The bloody sword caught a flash of light, a reminder of the deadly fire burning inside the blade that could ignite at any moment.
Martyn saw a glimpse of Scar's slack face on the ground, dead by that sword, a glimpse of Ren's face as he turned towards him, mouth opening to say something. Before he had a chance, Martyn's sword swung around and cut into his neck. Red blood sprayed, Ren's hands came up toward his neck and his sword dropped to the ground. He collapsed to his knees, mouth trying to speak but saying no words, eyes staring into Martyn's, betrayed. Martyn forced himself to look back, frozen between the horror at what he'd just done and the numbness.
"Goodbye, my King." Martyn said with a bow. "Red Winter is over, now comes the spring." Ren fell to the ground, hand falling beside the blade of a loyal banner, crown falling from his head, slain by his own Hand.
There they lay, Scar and Ren, the leaders of the world, the two men who wove armies out of their words. The greatest enemies, side-by-side, dead on the same battlefield. The reign of the Red King was over. Dogwarts was done, nothing but a battle-torn graveyard, and a sight of betrayal.
Martyn glanced up in time to see movement pull back from a hole in the wall, a glimpse of someone who had seen what happened, but wasn't willing to fight here. In the other direction, less stealthy by far, Grian perched on top of the wall, watching, bow out, but no arrow nocked. As Martyn caught his eye he too drew back and jumped off the wall on the other side. Martyn didn't give chase, he would find Grian later, and everyone else too. Let Grian, let anyone who saw, tell the others, if they dared.
The final 5. It was a free-for-all now. No alliances mattered anymore, everything was broken. It was a battle to the death and a game of survival. And Martyn was determined to survive, he'd done this much for it now, what was a little more?
Martyn bent down and picked up Ren's crown where it had fallen. He held it for a moment in his hands, a symbol, a reminder, bloodstained, but still strong. He looked once more around Dogwarts, their home, their fortress, once their hope, now a silent graveyard, all beauty destroyed under the blood and explosions. He looked down again and let the crown fall back to the ground. It wasn't his symbol, and this wasn't his place anymore. Martyn turned to walk away, steps heavy, no more glances spared for the ruined fortress around him. It was time to finish this.
...
Dogwarts was always going to fall, eventually. Like every alliance, and every life, it was simply inevitable. A bloody battleground, and a tragic reminder of what happens in this world to even the strongest alliances and the closest companions. A place destined for blood and death and abandonment, haunted by the ghosts who spent their final, painful moments there, unable to escape the tragedies of their deaths. And if one more would join them once he too met his end, trapped by his own betrayal? Well, one among many. Maybe he too was just too tied to the place, despite, or perhaps because of, his own actions.