Kael woke to a hand gripping his shoulder. Hard, urgent, devoid of gentleness.
"Get up." Aldric's voice, low and pressing. "Now."
The darkness of the cave was still thick around them, but the air had changed. Kael felt something was wrong before his eyes were even fully open. The smell. The stench of burning flesh and rusted metal that had haunted them since the valley yesterday was now ten times sharper, as if someone had thrown an entire carcass into a giant furnace and let the smoke drift through the entire forest.
He sat up straight. Gareth was already standing at the cave mouth, shield raised, his back rigid as an iron board. Reva was crouching beside him, bow half-drawn, an arrow pinched between her fingers.
"What happened?" Kael whispered.
"The red light last night," Aldric said. He was already fully geared, the Ironforge Blade drawn in his hand. "It wasn't a signal. It was fire. And the smoke is coming from the direction of Thornwood."
Thornwood. The ruins of the old fortress that served as the defensive outpost for the Third Battalion. The place where Erik, Thomas, and Joran had been assigned. The place Marcus was sent after his disciplinary hearing was suspended.
Kael's heart pounded violently, then settled into a rapid rhythm he couldn't control.
"How far?" Kael asked, his hand already reaching for his sword before he even finished the question.
"Four hours at a normal pace," Reva answered without looking away from her position. "Two and a half if we run."
"We run," Aldric said. One word. No explanation. No discussion.
They tore through the forest in a darkness that slowly bled into a gray dawn. Reva took the lead, her steps swift and precise, finding a path among the tree roots and thorny bushes invisible in the dark. Gareth ran behind her, his breathing heavy but his pace never slowing, axe and shield rattling softly against his back with every stride. Aldric and Kael were in the middle.
The further north they went, the thicker the smoke creeping between the trees became. At first, it was just a thin layer hanging low over the ground, then it grew so dense Kael had to pull his collar over his nose and mouth. His eyes stung.
And the Light Aether in his chest would not stop vibrating.
The vibration was different from what he felt in the convoy valley yesterday. Yesterday was just a mild warning, like a subtle tremor at the fingertips. Now his entire ribcage was throbbing, as if a second heart were beating inside his chest with a rhythm growing faster and louder. Dark Aether. A concentration far, far higher than anything he had ever felt before.
"Captain," Kael spoke as he ran, gasping for breath. "Dark Aether ahead. Extremely strong. Not residual traces. It's active."
Aldric didn't answer for a few seconds. Only the sound of their footsteps filled the silence.
"How strong?" Aldric finally asked.
"I don't know how to measure it," Kael admitted. "But my body is reacting as if warning me to run in the opposite direction."
"A natural reaction," Reva murmured from the front. "Pity we're running right towards it."
Gareth snorted. "When have we ever done the natural thing?"
They smelled Thornwood before they saw it.
The stench hit them like an invisible wall as they broke through the final tree line. Kael nearly gagged. Sulfur, charred flesh, smoldering wood, and something deeper, more rotten, like soil decaying from the inside out. He had smelled something similar in the valley yesterday, but this was hundreds of times more concentrated, as if the very earth in this place had died.
Aldric raised his fist. They stopped at the edge of a hill looking down upon the plains that used to be Thornwood.
Kael saw it.
And his world shifted.
Thornwood was no longer a defensive outpost. Thornwood was an open graveyard. The wooden and stone walls that used to surround the post had collapsed, mostly burned down to black stumps still emitting smoke. The watchtower that stood at the northwest corner had snapped like a twig, its top section impaled into the ground twenty paces from its original position. Tents, supply depots, stables, everything was flattened.
And among the ruins, bodies were scattered.
Dozens. Perhaps more buried under the rubble.
The Valdorian uniforms, that familiar blue and silver, were now so caked in dirt, blood, and ash they were nearly indistinguishable. Some bodies lay in positions suggesting they had fought back. Swords were still gripped in hands frozen stiff. Cracked shields staked into the dirt. Formations that were once orderly had become absolute chaos.
Kael felt his knees weaken. He grabbed onto the tree trunk beside him, his fingers digging into the bark until they turned white.
"Dear God," Gareth whispered. His voice, usually so loud and light, was now barely audible. Kael turned and saw the massive man standing rigidly, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his neck bulged. His battleaxe was gripped so fiercely his knuckles were stark white.
Reva said nothing. She only stared downward with unblinking eyes. Her face showed no emotion, but Kael saw her fingers gripping the bow trembling, very slightly, almost imperceptibly. For someone whose hands never wavered when releasing an arrow, a tremor that small spoke louder than a scream.
Aldric looked at the ruins of Thornwood in a long, heavy silence. When he spoke, his voice was flat, controlled, but Kael recognized that tone. The same tone he had heard when his father spoke to his mother moments before facing the Shadow Drake that attacked their village. The calm of someone who had decided that their emotions would have to wait.
"We go down," Aldric said. "Reva, high ground. Make sure nothing is waiting behind the rubble. Gareth, protect Kael. Kael, follow me. We look for survivors."
Entering the ruins of Thornwood was like stepping into a nightmare from which one could not wake.
The ground beneath their feet had changed. It was no longer mud and grass, but loose, greasy black ash, clinging to the soles of their boots in a way that nauseated Kael. In some spots, the earth had turned into a shiny black crust, cracked like skin burned for too long. The effect of high-tier Dark Aether. A poison that killed the earth itself.
The trees around the outpost's perimeter had died standing. Their leaves hadn't yellowed or fallen, but shriveled and blackened on the branches, dry and brittle as bone. Their bark whitened and peeled, revealing an ashen interior. The forest that yesterday was brownish-green was now a towering white skeleton, resembling a row of giant bones.
Kael followed Aldric through a gap in the collapsed wall. His steps were unsteady. He had to force his legs to move, force his eyes to stay open, force his breathing to remain steady while every cell in his body screamed to turn and run.
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Suddenly, from beneath a pile of charred wood to their left, came a sharp grinding sound.
A thick black arm covered in spikes pierced through the debris. A Krocha, a crawling spiked demon, dragged itself out with immense effort. Its lipless jaw opened wide, baring rows of serrated teeth still dripping with fresh blood. The monster turned its head toward Kael, its glowing red eyes narrowing, and let out a hoarse hiss, preparing to pounce.
Before Kael could even raise his sword, a flash of silver cleaved the air.
Aldric had moved with a speed Kael's eyes couldn't track. His Ironforge Blade sliced through the air, separating the Krocha's head from its neck in one smooth, uninterrupted swing. The monster's head rolled onto the ashen ground, its eyes dimming instantly.
Aldric said nothing. He simply flicked the black blood from his blade and kept walking forward. These ruins might be silent, but death still breathed beneath them.
They found the first group of survivors behind the ruins of the supply depot. Seven people. Only seven, out of what should have been a full battalion. Some sat leaning against the rubble, their eyes blank and unfocused, as if seeing something that wasn't there. A man with a bloody bandage on his head wept silently, his tears carving clean tracks down his soot-covered cheeks.
"Captain Aldric," a young sergeant stood up unsteadily upon seeing them. His uniform was in tatters, and his left arm hung at his side at an unnatural angle. "Sergeant Brennan, Third Battalion. We... we were attacked at midnight. They came from the ground. From underground."
"How many enemies?" Aldric asked.
"I don't..." Brennan swallowed hard. "Trench-worms. Giant worms. They dug tunnels beneath the walls and collapsed the fort's foundation. Then the Krocha swarms flooded us from underground. We didn't have time to form up. And there were..." his voice broke. "There were two different ones. Leading the pack. Walking upright like men but they weren't men. Clad in black armor that fused with their flesh. They were the ones who destroyed the tower."
Noctis Guard. Shadow Knights. Kael felt his blood freeze.
"When did they leave?" Aldric asked.
"Before dawn. They killed anyone who fought back, then headed north. Like... like they were just passing through." Brennan looked at Aldric with eyes full of despair. "Captain, they didn't attack to take this outpost. They attacked to destroy it so nothing would block their path."
Aldric looked at Kael. Reva's words from yesterday echoed between them without needing to be spoken.
They're clearing a path.
"Gareth, help tend to the wounded," Aldric ordered. "Kael, with me. We sweep the rest of the post."
Kael found Marcus in the eastern corner of the ruins.
He almost didn't recognize him. The face of the young noble, once always tilted upward in arrogance, was now smeared with dirt and blood that had dried into dark crusts. His uniform was torn in several places, and his sword lay a few paces from his open hand, as if the weapon had slipped from a grip too weak to hold it.
Marcus wasn't moving.
Kael knelt beside him. His hand moved on its own, touching Marcus's neck to search for a pulse he knew he wouldn't find. The skin was cold. Stiff.
He stared at Marcus's face. His mouth was slightly open, but there was no scream there. No anger. No hatred. Only a frozen surprise, as if death had come too quickly for him to comprehend what was happening.
A noble's son raised in stone palaces, taught that his blue blood made him more than the rest, who hated Kael because the world no longer operated by the rules he knew. Here, on a ground stained with blood and ash, none of it meant anything. Family titles didn't stop demon claws. Blue blood froze just as fast as common blood.
"Kael." Aldric stood behind him. His voice was quiet.
"I knew him," Kael said. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, flat and distant, as if coming from someone else. "Marcus Valerius. From the academy."
A long pause.
"He hated me," Kael continued. He didn't know why he was saying it. The words just spilled out, like water seeping through cracks. "He tried to sabotage my exam once. He wanted me to fail, to get hurt, maybe to die. And now..."
Kael closed Marcus's eyes with his palm. The eyelids were cold and damp beneath his fingers.
"And now he's gone," Kael whispered.
He felt no victory. He felt no justice. All he felt was a vast, cold emptiness, like a hole in his chest where something used to be. Marcus's hatred for him felt so incredibly small now, so insignificant, like a child's squabble remembered by an adult who had seen far too much.
"War doesn't care who you are," Aldric said from behind. "Prince or peasant. The strong or the weak. It takes whoever stands in its path." The man paused for a moment. "Remember this face, Kael. Not to hate it. But to remember that death does not choose."
Kael stood. His legs felt heavy, as if his boots were made of lead. He looked at Marcus one last time, then turned away.
There were more bodies among the ruins that needed checking. More faces to see. More reality to swallow without choking.
The midday sun stood high in the sky, but its light did not reach the grounds of Thornwood. Smoke and dust formed a gray veil hanging low, making everything look faded and unreal, like a painting washed in rain.
Aldric gathered all the survivors at the safest point in the ruins. Twelve people, including five Reva had found in the woods surrounding the post, sheltered beneath fallen trees. Twelve out of nearly a hundred soldiers assigned to Thornwood.
Gareth sat with the wounded, his massive hands that usually gripped an axe now carefully cleaning and bandaging wounds. His face was still, no grin, no jokes. Kael realized this might be Gareth's true face, the face hidden behind the humor and laughter, the face of a man who had seen his comrades die too often and chose to smile because the alternative was too painful.
Reva returned from her final perimeter patrol. She landed from a tree branch soundlessly and approached Aldric.
"Clear," she reported. "They've been gone a while. But I found something." She held out her hand. On her palm lay a jagged piece of black metal, the size of a pinky finger. "It's a shard from a Noctis Guard armor. They left a trail. Heading north. Straight."
"Ironhold," Aldric said.
"Ironhold," Reva confirmed.
The silence that followed felt like a stone dropping to the bottom of a very deep well.
"Captain," Kael said. His voice was hoarse, his throat feeling raw from the smoke and the emotions he was forcing down. "The Third Battalion. Is there... is there any word on the other group assigned here? My friends, Erik, Thomas, Joran, they were supposed to be here."
Sergeant Brennan, leaning against the rubble with his broken arm already splinted by Gareth, shook his head slowly. "We don't know. The reinforcement group from Valdoria hadn't arrived when we were attacked. But the southern route was also choked with black fog last night." He swallowed hard. "If the replacement battalion is on the road... they might have crossed paths with the main demon force."
The air in Kael's lungs, which had been about to release in relief, froze again. Not arrived didn't mean safe. Erik, Thomas, Joran. They were marching right into the jaws of death. There was a chance they survived, but the opposite probability was far greater and more terrifying.
But Marcus didn't.
Kael swallowed and forced himself to focus. Now was not the time for grief. Now was the time to act.
"Captain, what's our plan?" Kael asked.
Aldric looked at him. Something in the old man's eyes shifted, as if he were seeing Kael for the first time, not as a young recruit who needed protecting, but as a soldier asking for orders.
"We evacuate the survivors to the nearest safe point," Aldric said. "Gareth and Reva will escort them back down the southern route toward Valdoria. Kael, you and I will sweep the ruins one last time. Make sure no one is left behind."
"And then?" Gareth asked, his voice quiet and serious.
"Then we return to Valdoria and report what we found." Aldric sheathed his sword. "Thornwood has fallen. The convoy was destroyed. The Abyssal forces are clearing the path to Ironhold. The War Council needs to know this wasn't a random attack. It's an invasion."
Kael heard the word and felt its weight smash into his chest like a sledgehammer.
Invasion.
Not a sporadic attack. Not a horde of demons striking without direction. This was a coordinated, planned, and brutal movement. They attacked the supply convoy. They destroyed the defensive outpost. They cleared every obstacle on the path to Ironhold. And they marked their victims with the precision execution typical of the Noctis Guard, not as a warning, but as a declaration.
We are coming. And nothing can stop us.
Kael gripped the hilt of his sword. The steel felt heavier than yesterday, as if the blood and ash clinging to the soles of his boots had added weight to every step he took.
He looked toward the eastern corner of the ruins, where Marcus lay. The body was already covered with a piece of tent canvas Gareth had found, but Kael could still make out its shape beneath the cloth, still and small and looking nothing like the arrogant noble son who had once glared at him with hatred.
I couldn't save you, Kael thought. But I will remember your face.
He turned and followed Aldric into the still-smoking ruins. Behind him, Gareth began organizing the survivors for the journey back. His voice was calm and steady, devoid of humor, carrying only the authority of a soldier who knew what had to be done.
Atop the dead branch of a tree, Reva watched in silence. Her bow was ready. Her sharp eyes swept the northern horizon, toward Ironhold, toward the place the Noctis Guard were heading. And in those dark brown eyes, for the first time since Kael had known her, he saw something other than cynicism.
Fury.
Far to the north, behind the fog and the rocky mountains, Ironhold stood in ignorance that death was marching toward their gates.
— To be continued in Chapter 18 —