Chapter Seventy-Five: The Weight of the Past

The night was cold in Ironclad territory, but the warmth of the forge still clung to Alex's skin. They sat around a modest fire with Sylara and Garrick, nursing their injured hands, which were now bandaged tightly. The Ironclad stronghold loomed behind them, a shadow against the starlit sky, while the distant hammering of blacksmiths still echoed through the mountains.

Garrick sat across from Alex, sharpening one of his many daggers, his gaze flicking toward the Ironclad guards occasionally. "Well, that was something. I've seen plenty of tests, but holding molten metal? That's a new one. I'm not sure if they're incredibly tough or just… insane."

Alex smiled weakly, flexing their bandaged hands. "A little of both, maybe. But they're fierce. And they respect what we did today. That's all that matters."

Sylara sat beside them, tending to the fire with a faraway look in her eyes. "Respect is a start, but Braegor didn't seem convinced yet. Earning his trust, truly earning it, might take more than enduring a test of pain."

"I know," Alex said softly, staring into the flames. "But at least we've made an impression. The Ironclad won't unite with the others on words alone. They need to believe that unity won't make them weak, that it'll make them stronger. And for that, we'll need more than just Braegor's respect. We need their loyalty."

"That's a tall order, even for you, Alex," Garrick said, flipping his dagger in the air before catching it. "You heard Braegor—these people have suffered more than most. They're not going to forget that pain easily."

"True," Alex replied, "but there has to be a way to show them that uniting with the other clans is the only chance we have to survive what's coming."

Sylara poked at the fire, her expression still distant. "It's not just the Ironclad. The other clans aren't much better. Everyone's too lost in their own grief, their own anger, to see the bigger picture. We're trying to pull together people who've spent years blaming each other for everything that's gone wrong."

Alex felt the weight of her words settle over them like a heavy cloak. They knew she was right. The path ahead wasn't just filled with physical challenges—it was the deep wounds of history, the bitter memories that had scarred these people, that would be the hardest to overcome.

"We have to find a way to make them see," Alex said, determination hardening their voice. "We have to make them understand that if we keep fighting each other, none of us will be strong enough when the void fully arrives. The enemy we're facing doesn't care about old grudges."

Garrick sheathed his dagger, leaning forward with a wry grin. "You've got that fire in your eyes again. Looks like we're not leaving Ironclad territory anytime soon."

"Not until we get what we need," Alex agreed. "Braegor may be tough, but he's a leader who cares about his people. If we can show him that unity will protect them—will give them a real chance at survival—I think we can convince him."

Sylara finally spoke up, her voice quieter than usual. "It's not just the Ironclad you need to convince, Alex. You have to show all of them—every clan—that there's a future worth fighting for. And that's not going to happen overnight."

Alex turned to her, seeing the worry etched on her face. Sylara had been their rock since the beginning, always calm, always steady. But now, there was a crack in that resolve, a glimpse of doubt.

"I know," Alex said, their voice softening. "But we'll do this together, Sylara. All of us. We've made it this far, and we're not turning back now."

Sylara looked at Alex for a long moment, then nodded, her confidence slowly returning. "Together," she echoed.

The fire crackled between them, filling the silence that followed. Alex knew there was a long road ahead, one fraught with challenges far greater than they had faced so far. But tonight, they allowed themselves a moment of rest, knowing that the battle for unity was just beginning.

---

The next morning, Braegor summoned them to the Great Hall, where the Ironclad leaders gathered. The hall was cavernous, with stone walls covered in the trophies of battle—ancient weapons, battered shields, and the banners of fallen warriors. The air smelled of smoke and iron, a testament to the clan's identity.

Braegor stood at the head of the long table, his imposing figure framed by the fires that roared in the hearth behind him. His expression was as unreadable as ever, though there was a glint in his eye that Alex hadn't seen before.

"You've proven your endurance," Braegor began, his voice echoing through the hall. "But strength alone will not bring the Ironclad to your side. We've endured too much loss, too much betrayal, to follow empty promises. The other clans turned their backs on us when the Void first struck. They left us to die on the front lines."

Alex stepped forward, meeting Braegor's gaze. "I'm not here to make promises I can't keep. I know the pain your people have endured, and I know it won't be easy to heal those wounds. But I'm not asking you to forget what's happened. I'm asking you to consider what's at stake if we don't stand together now."

Braegor's expression darkened. "And what makes you think the others will follow you? What makes you think they won't turn their backs on us again when the real fight begins?"

"They won't," Alex said, their voice firm. "Because this time, we won't let them. I'm here to make sure of that. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove it."

The room was silent for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Then Braegor slowly nodded, his eyes narrowing as if testing Alex's resolve.

"Very well, outsider. You've earned the chance to prove yourself further. But know this: the Ironclad do not give their loyalty lightly. You will need to show us more than just words and strength. You will need to show us that you can lead."

Alex straightened, feeling the weight of the task before them. "I will."

Braegor's eyes flicked to the other Ironclad leaders, who remained silent but watchful. "Then your next trial will be among the clans themselves. If you truly believe in unity, it's time to prove it."

Alex nodded, the fire of determination burning once again in their chest. "I'll prove it. To all of you."