The dead silence was broken by the sound of scuffling footsteps emerging from the edge of the rubble.

"Someone's coming!" Rhydian snapped to attention and let out a low warning.

The surviving guards instantly closed ranks, forming a protective shield in front of Grace.

Dustin lifted his gaze slightly, his divine sense sweeping over the rubble. He relaxed almost immediately, as if he had been expecting them.

Through the haze of smoke and fallen columns, a group of figures moved cautiously. Leading them were Tristan, Matthias, and Nathaniel, who had been separated from them on the island for some time.

The soldiers trailing behind were noticeably fewer in number. Every one of them bore injuries, their clothes torn to rags, faces haggard with exhaustion. Whatever they'd encountered on the way here had clearly been brutal.

The three brothers looked disheveled. Their fine robes were torn, crowns sat crooked, and their faces were smeared with grime and blood.

Following the tremors fro