We reached the outer markers of the rebel outpost well after full dark. Cael hung limp between Harlan and me, his breathing shallow and uneven. Lira walked ahead, spear ready, clearing the way and signaling the night sentries before they could raise an alarm.
The moment we stepped onto the main platforms, word began to spread. A few rebels rushed forward with torches. Others simply stared. The "successful" new mage was being carried back unconscious, blood dried beneath his nose and eyes, body slack as a corpse.
"Get Elandor," I ordered the nearest fighter while lowering the unconscious mage to the ground. "And Veyra. Now."
They moved quickly. Within minutes both leaders arrived. Elandor reached us first. His eyes locked onto Cael with an intensity that ignored the rest of us. He pressed two fingers to the young man’s neck, then his temple, muttering under his breath as faint magical light flickered around his hand.
"Bring him to my laboratory," Elandor said. "Immediately."
Two rebels acted immediately, lifting the limp body from the ground and immediately setting off the mage’s place of work.
"He’s alive," Harlan reported quietly. "But barely. The core collapsed under strain."
Elandor’s jaw tightened, a disappointed look settling over his features. He did not look at his nephew. "I will assess the damage myself."
With that he walked away, not bothering to ask us how the mission had gone, or if we had sustained any injuries. Nobody cared that he didn’t ask though, I had just expected some concern from someone whom we had just risked our lives for.
Veyra arrived a moment later, taking in the scene with a sharp, assessing gaze. After what seemed like a minute, Elandor returned as well, but I knew he wasn’t back because he cared, he probably just came back because he wanted reports on how his little experiment had performed.
"What’s the report?" Veyra asked me.
"The forward outpost is larger than your scouts reported. Reinforced walls, multiple watchtowers, at least sixty visible orcs, and clear signs of ongoing expansion. Supply wagons. Training drills. It’s a staging ground. Grimgor is preparing a major push."
Veyra’s expression was unreadable for a split second, then it slowly contorted into one of urgency and a little mix of fear. "You’re certain?"
"I saw it myself."
"And the subject? What exactly happened in the field?"
Lira answered before I could, her voice cold. "He lost control the moment real combat started. Unstable surges. Nearly killed Harlan. Antoine had to stop him by force. Then he collapsed on the way back. This is what your ’success’ looks like under pressure."
Elandor’s eyes narrowed. "Field conditions are unpredictable. The process is still being refined—"
"Refined?" Lira cut in. "He almost burned half of us alive. If Antoine hadn’t interfered, we’d be dead in the marsh and your experiment would be a corpse."
Harlan stood slightly apart, silent, caught between loyalty to his uncle and the reality of what he had witnessed. His face was tight with conflicting emotions.
I kept my tone even. "Cael’s power is real. It’s also dangerously unstable. Under stress the core begins to tear itself apart. By the time we reached the outer paths, the collapse was already underway. If you intend to field more like him, you need to understand the risk."
Elandor straightened. For a moment the calculated assessment he had shown earlier returned, cooler now. "You are not a mage. Your ’observations’ are useful, but incomplete. I will examine him thoroughly. The process can be adjusted."
Veyra raised a hand before the argument could escalate further. "Enough. Antoine, the intelligence you’ve brought is valuable. We’ll increase scouting and prepare contingency plans for a larger enemy movement. Elandor, take Cael and do whatever you can to stabilize him. I want a full report by morning, on both his condition and the viability of continuing these experiments."
Elandor gave a stiff nod. He gestured to two of his assistants, who immediately followed him like flies attracted to a corpse. Harlan on the other hand hesitated to follow the mage, then turned and followed him after a minute of thinking to himself.
Veyra turned to me. "You and your team did well under difficult circumstances. Rest. We’ll speak again once I have Elandor’s assessment."
She left us afterwards. Me and Lira stood by ourselves for a while, regaining our strength while waiting for the first remark to be made.
Lira exhaled slowly, still gripping her spear. "He’s going to keep doing it. You saw his face. One failure won’t stop him."
"I know," I answered. It was as clear as day, but there wasn’t exactly anything we could do to stop him.
We walked back toward our hut in silence. The camp felt different now, whispers following us, eyes tracking the path Elandor’s people had taken with Cael’s body.
Inside the hut, Lira sat on the edge of the pallet and began unwrapping the worst of her remaining bandages to check the healing burns. I cleaned my sword and thought of what to do next from now. I needed to get stronger, especially now that a possible attack was imminent.
The fight had given me experience, but not enough to advance. The real gains from the mission were information and clarity.
"Harlan’s in a hard place," Lira said after a while. "I don’t know what to think about him. I know Elandor is his family, but I really hope he doesn’t make a mistake."
"He’ll have to choose eventually," I replied. "Or the choice will be made for him."
She looked at me across the dim space. The earlier awkwardness from the morning after still lingered between us, softened now by shared exhaustion and the weight of what we had just survived. Neither of us mentioned it directly.
I sat with my back against the wall, sword within reach, and let the night settle around us. We had done enough for one day. and needed rest. Any other thoughts or conversation would wait until morning.