Morning was worse than the one before.
My body already knew what marching was, and it hated every movement in advance. My legs ached with a dull pain, my back reacted to any change in position, my shoulders hurt from the bag straps. But when the teachers walked between the improvised beds and woke us with a short:
“Up. A quick bite — and we move,”
no one even tried to argue.
We shoved bread and water into ourselves quickly. No conversations — only short phrases:
“Got your sword?”
“Don’t forget your flask.”
“Button your cloak, idiot — the wind will grab it.”
The column stretched out and moved on.
Half a day merged into one long, colorless strip. The forest gradually thinned, the road grew wider, and underfoot there were more and more traces of carts and hooves. Sometimes scouts in green cloaks with a gryphon flew toward us — paying almost no attention, only noting the fact that we existed.
The children no longer needed to be pushed.
Every step forward wasn’t just movement — it was an attempt to prove to yourself that you were still alive.
By evening, when the sun was already touching the edge of the horizon, stone silhouettes appeared ahead.
First — a dark line of walls.
Then — towers.
Then — countless small lights flickering around the city.
Elgir.
Only it wasn’t just a city.
Around it, like a metal crown, a camp sprawled out. Tents, fortifications, fires. Above the outer ring of the camp rose banners: the royal flag, and beside it — a black cloth with a white sign resembling interwoven blades.
The Dark Order.
When we came closer, it had fully grown dark. Torches and magical lights pulled fragments from the darkness: the gleam of armor, the outlines of spears, the silhouettes of patrols.
We were noticed quickly.
A small group of riders and foot soldiers moved out from the camp. They stopped a few steps away. One of them looked very young, but had that look people get when they’ve seen death too early. He wore the Order’s black uniform — practical, without needless decoration. On his chest was a symbol: a sword and a wing crossed within a circle.
“Are you survivors from the Academy?” he asked.
Our light teacher stepped forward.
“Yes. Students and instructors. The capital… fell under a demon strike.”
The young soldier snapped his fist to his chest in salute.
“The Order’s commander ordered us to meet everyone who managed to get out. Follow me.”
He turned his head.
“Children — to the living sector. Instructors — to the штаб tent.”
Then he looked back at us.
“No wandering off. No вмешиваться. No running around the camp. Understood?”
No one objected.
Inside the camp it was loud, but this noise was different from panic.
It was the noise of work.
Someone was dragging crates of weapons.
Someone was swearing while unrolling bundles of maps.
Armor clanged, smiths’ hammers struck.
From the infirmary came a muffled groan, a rasp, healing spells that hit you right in the chest.
Scouts in green cloaks came and went, shaking mud from their boots. Knights of the Dark Order checked straps on their armor and the edges of their blades. Mages in blue and gray cloaks argued over a table buried under parchment.
People were preparing not to die, but to fight.
We were led to a row of smaller tents — apparently for refugees and support personnel. The children went one way; the teachers were led farther, toward a large tent with flags.
“Put the students here,” the same soldier tossed to the sergeant escorting us. “Their instructors will come later.”
Stolen story; please report.
And he left without even looking back.
Inside the tent it was cramped but tolerable: straw bedding, two lanterns, several crates clearly turned into temporary benches. Most people just collapsed where they stood. Someone closed their eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.
I didn’t feel like sleeping.
The exhaustion was there, but on top of it — too many thoughts.
I slipped out of the tent, took a burning splinter from the nearest fire, and returned, setting it on a metal stand lying in the corner. The torch became a small bonfire of light.
I pulled a folded map of the ki
“Again…” Finn muttered tiredly from nearby. He was lying not far away. “Even here you’ve got maps.”
“Better to count than just lie there,” I replied.
He grumbled something unintelligible, but kept listening.
I marked the capital with my finger. A large circle. Then I moved lower and slightly to the side, placing a dot where Elgir was now.
“We’re here,” I said quietly. “And here — the demon strike.”
I thought, then added another mark:
“Here is my village. A week’s journey…”
Beyond it — forest. And what the kingdom labeled as “dangerous territories,” while for me it was the place where those who had accepted me as their own lived.
Elves.
I looked at the map thoughtfully.
If I were planning this as the Demon King…
It would be stupid to strike only the capital. The most logical move would be to break the border in one sector, roll forward like a wave, cutting down strongpoints, and try to throw the southern part of the kingdom into a “cauldron”: cut supply routes, разрушить roads, block crossings. Split the country in two, then finish them off separately.
I drew a line — mental, but very clear — from the northern frontiers through the capital and down.
“If they want to split the kingdom,” I murmured, “they’ll press here, here, and here…”
The meaning of this was simple and unpleasant.
My village ended up right between possible lines of movement.
The forest was a potential barrier and, at the same time, an ideal path for a hidden passage. The elves were unlikely to rush to save humans. They would take care of themselves. And if demons pushed too deep, the forest would bite off their hand.
But that didn’t mean the wave wouldn’t sweep up everything around it.
“Hey,” I heard behind me.
My people began to come over to the map.
Tara lowered herself beside me, still in her boots, but without her sword — it lay nearby, wrapped in a cloak. Noy sat on the other side, elbows on his knees. Astra, fingers clenched white, buried her gaze into the map as if she wanted to burn a hole through it.
“We found out a bit,” Tara spoke first. Her voice sounded hoarse, but steady. “From the soldiers and the doctor in the infirmary. They’re not really hiding it.”
I nodded.
“Talk.”
“The demons hit more than just the capital,” she continued. “There were attacks on fortresses in the north. Two fell completely. One is holding, but they’re already requesting reinforcements. In the western lands — only raids, no major breakthroughs. The south is quiet for now, but everyone’s sure it won’t last.”
“The Order’s commander thinks they’re ‘probing’ the defenses,” Noy added. “Looking for a weak point. They didn’t throw all their силы at once. This is only the beginning.”
Astra said quietly:
“And also… in the capital… it wasn’t just one wave. They moved in a circle. First — the outer districts, then — the center. The Academy was hit by the second strike.”
She swallowed and continued:
“We… got lucky, Zen.”
I looked at the map and mentally returned to the lines I had just traced.
“Initial strike on the capital,” I said. “Parallel attacks on northern fortresses. West on edge, south quiet.”
I moved my finger from bottom to top.
“If they break the north and come in here, then strike from here…”
My finger closed an invisible circle. The same picture formed as in my head a minute ago.
A cauldron.
“You think they’ll really try to split the kingdom?” Finn asked. He had already gotten up and was standing behind my shoulder.
“If the one commanding them isn’t an idiot,” I replied without looking away from the map, “then yes.”
Pause.
“The question isn’t what they want to do. The question is whether we’ll guess when in time.”
We all fell silent.
Inside the tent it suddenly became quiet. Beyond the thin cloth came voices, shouts, footsteps, the ring of metal — the life of the camp. And here, over one old map, a few teenagers stood crowded together, trying to understand exactly how their world would be broken along lines and directions.
“The teachers are in the headquarters now,” Astra reminded carefully. “Maybe they’re already discussing all this.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But…”
I tapped a knuckle against the map.
“That doesn’t mean we’re forbidden to think.”
Noy smirked at the corner of his mouth.
“Dangerous thought, Zen. Say that in front of the Order commander and they’ll записать you as a strategist, not a student.”
“Worse,” Finn muttered. “A staff rat.”
We even gave a weak huff.
Not laughter. But at least some kind of reaction from the living.
When the teachers finally returned, we were already sitting in our places. The map was folded in my bag. None of us pretended to be asleep, but we didn’t rush them with questions either — everything was clear from the instructors’ faces.
The results of war councils are never joyful.
Our water teacher sat on an empty crate. Every movement cost him effort.
“So,” he said. “There’s news.”
We raised our heads.
“First,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “Elgir is holding for now. The camp around it is the main hub for regroup… for regrouping forces. They’re gathering those who survived and those who can still fight.”
“Will any of us ever fall into the second category?”
flashed through my mind.
“Second,” the teacher continued, “it’s confirmed: the demons attacked not only the capital. But the kingdom hasn’t fallen apart. Commanders, orders, mages — they’re still alive. Which means we’re not alone.”
He paused, looking straight at us.
“Third.”
His voice grew a little harder.
“For now, you are children. Neither the Order nor the army will throw you onto the front line. But that doesn’t mean you’ll stay outside the war.”
He looked at Elinia, then at me, then let his gaze slide over the others.
“Tomorrow morning, the Order commander wants to speak with representatives of the Academy. Including those who proved themselves not only in battle, but in study.”
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
“I think he’s already heard about your ‘stone фигурки’ and your ‘games with golems.’”
Someone let out a nervous snort.
I felt a familiar sensation rising inside: a mix of anticipation, тревога, and a faint tired anger.
So. The next layer begins.
War wasn’t going to wait until we became just students again.