So were all those not fighting for their lives. The song had brought life to Afiele’s defenders. From his perch, Rethis’ bow sent arrows flying across the walls, striking down undead. The Thronebearers fought, armor shining. Worthy of the song the [Singer] had sung.

Yet every eye was on Idelt. The man who had brought down a Draug with his bare fists.

“Dead gods. I’ve not seen such strength since the Dame of the Hills last dueled in Calanfer. A Draug.”

Ser Dalimont whispered. Idelt stumbled.

“I—are the gates clear, Lord Lantal?”

“Yes. Rest, Idelt. But for you—”

The [Lord] trailed off. He saw the [Blacksmith] sag. Lantal glanced at Dalimont.

“Get him to the keep. I need to find—”

The [Singer].

——

Cara stood on the rooftops, panting. She had seen the battle. And like a fool—she had sung through it.

Hoping her song gave Idelt the strength to beat the Draug.

She felt wrong. She also felt drained. But the walls had thrown off the assault. The gates were patched; a temporary barricade had been thrown over the gap. The Draug was dead.

“Miss Cara.”

She spun and nearly fell. Lantal reached for her, but Cara caught herself. The [Lord] saw her face was pale.

“L—Lord Lantal.”

“Miss Cara, we are in your debt. But for your song, the undead might have taken the walls then and there.”

“I—I did that?”

Her face was white. Lord Lantal stopped and looked at Cara. Had the song taken that much out of her?

Well, she had resurrected the flagging energy of everyone fighting here. He hesitated—but the undead hadn’t stopped. That Draug was one among many.

“Miss Cara. If you can sing—please, sing another song. Sing as long as you can. Your Skill may be the only thing that keeps us strong enough to fight! A [Singer] of your level—”

“My…level? No. No—that was just a song. It shouldn’t have…done that?”

Cara looked around. Disbelievingly. Lantal knew the feeling. It was like when he had used his Skill to grow a field of wheat that would normally take weeks in seconds. He reached out, touched her shoulder.

“Miss Cara. We need you. You can turn the tide of this siege. You saved Idelt’s life.”

“No. He saved himself. I just—”

The [Lord] shook his head. He had seen Idelt in the grip of that Draug.

“You saved him. You can save us all. We need heroes. Miss Cara—”

She looked at him. And her pale face drained further of color, if that were even possible. She took a few steps back, shaking her head.

“No—no! That’s not possible. That’s not right. I’m not a hero. Those don’t exist. You can’t just change—

no.”

The [Lord] didn’t understand what was making her so upset. He hesitated.

“Cara. We need your strength. All you need do is sing—”