Ten minutes.
That was all it took to turn the Monroe estate from a frantic fortification site into a staging ground for war.
In the cobbled courtyard, thirty elite guardsmen stood rigid beside their mounts, locked in lethal, disciplined silence. They wore reinforced brigandine, heavy helms, and repeating crossbows slung across their backs, the smell of oiled leather and cold steel hanging heavy in the air.
Julian Vance strode through the ranks, double-checking pack saddles and ammunition crates. He paused as Ramona led her massive black stallion out from the stables, the animal’s iron-shod hooves striking the frost-bitten stone with sharp, ringing concussions.
She wore a dark leather riding tunic that smelled of pine tar and rain, her father’s heavy broadsword secured firmly across her spine and two military plasma charges strapped to her side. Her face was an absolute block of ice, breath pluming white against the biting morning chill.
“All packs secured, rations distributed,” Julian reported, falling into step beside her stirrup. He eyed her with a mix of disbelief and grim awe. “You’re actually doing this. Riding straight into a collapsing pass without waiting for imperial authorization.”
“We aren’t waiting for the Ministry to send flowers or clearance, Julian,” Ramona snapped, pulling her leather gloves tight with a sharp crack of stretching hide. “The frost set three weeks early, and my father's line is exposed. We ride.”
She raised her right hand. “Move out!”
The thirty-man vanguard surged through the iron gates, their horses' hooves thundering in a deafening, rhythmic roar against the cobblestones. High on the balcony, Princess Eleanor watched them disappear into the mist, her hand white against the railing. Below, merchants scattered with frantic shouts; guardsmen gaped as the heavily armed troop tore through Kai’s northern avenues like a bolt of dark lightning.
They didn't slow for toll gates. They didn't stop for checkpoints. Ramona’s hand brushed the tactical blade at her thigh as they blew past the outer guard posts.
Faster.
Every second lost was another heartbeat her father might not have. The early frost and seismic fractures near Kevin’s Pass weren't just random weather—they were the atmospheric precursors to the rifts. If they didn't break through before the subterranean swarm fully surfaced, the pass wouldn't just be blocked. It would become a mass grave like Da Nang.
By nightfall, the manicured hills vanished, swallowed by dense, looming pines that reeked of rotting needles and damp earth. The temperature plummeted violently, turning their sweat-soaked clothes into freezing second skin.
Ramona hauled her mount to a dead stop at a fork in the trail, raising a fist.
Julian trotted up beside her, his breath frosting in the dark. “We’ve crossed the outer perimeter. The narrow approach to Kevin’s Pass is two hours ahead. But the scouts report the lower road is choked with rockslides and... something else.”
“Something else?” Ramona prompted, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the pitch-black tree line.
“Tracks,” Julian muttered, his voice dropping into a tight, professional register. “Massive, multi-clawed prints in the mud. Something broke out from beneath the stone.”
As if on cue, a low, subterranean vibration rippled through the frozen soil—a deep thrum that rattled their teeth and made the horses whinny in blind panic.
Ramona’s blood ran cold. The blind, chitin-armored horrors were surfacing four years early.
She unslung her repeating crossbow, checking the magazine with a sharp metallic clack.
“Mount up,” Ramona ordered, her voice ringing with absolute authority. “Draw your blades, keep your crossbows loaded, and arm the plasma pins. We’re walking into the dark. If anything moves between the trees that isn't human—you don't shout. You fire.”
Julian drew his shortsword with a crisp, singing shing that flared silver in the moonlight. “You heard the Commander! Tension your bows! Form up!”
The column plunged into the choking shadow of the gorge. The air turned foul, heavy with the suffocating stench of ozone, sulfur, and copper.
They were heading straight into the maw of the apocalypse. And Ramona wouldn't have it any other way.