The dimly lit room within the heart of the kingdom's fortress held an air of tension. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flickering flames of the candles that adorned the large table at the center. Commander Thorian, a figure of imposing stature and battle-worn experience, sat at the head, his brows furrowed in deep thought. His steel-gray eyes, sharp and calculating, reflected the unease that had settled over the room. To his right sat Vice Commander Alda, her icy blue gaze betraying a hint of concern, though her posture remained as rigid and disciplined as ever. Across from her, Commander Viktor, a man with the build of a warrior and the mind of a strategist, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
The three of them had been discussing the mission for hours, going over every detail, every report, every possibility. Yet, the unease lingered.
"This mission," Thorian began, his voice a low rumble, "was always a calculated risk. But with so many of our veterans engaged in other operations, we were forced to rely on newer recruits. We've placed an immense burden on them, entrusting them with such a crucial task."
Alda nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I share your concerns, Commander. The stakes couldn't be higher, and while I have confidence in the new recruits' abilities, the situation in the Vaebreta Kingdom is far more complex and dangerous than any of their previous assignments. We're asking them to do the impossible."
Commander Viktor, who had been silent thus far, uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "There's always a risk when dealing with new recruits. They lack the experience and hardened resolve of veterans, but sometimes it's precisely in these trials that they forge their strength. However, I can't shake the feeling that we may have underestimated the enemy's capabilities."
Thorian's expression darkened, his mind replaying the decision that had led to this moment. "We didn't have many options. With the forces we could spare, sending a mixed team of experienced soldiers and promising new recruits seemed the most strategic move. But now, I'm wondering if we should have taken a different approach. The Vaebreta Kingdom is vital to our alliance. If it falls…"
Alda interjected, her voice carrying a rare note of urgency, "It won't fall, Commander. But we need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. We need to be ready to act."
Before Thorian could respond, the heavy oak doors to the room burst open with a resounding crash, startling the three commanders. A soldier, clad in the uniform of the Military Force, stumbled inside, breathless and wide-eyed. The urgency in his demeanor sent a jolt of dread through the room.
"Commander Thorian! Vice Commander Alda! Commander Viktor!" the soldier gasped, his chest heaving from the exertion. "Lucien and Zalthor have returned to the kingdom! They've brought back Captain Quinn, Emiko, Raiya, Tatsuki, Elowyn, and Zyra—they're all badly injured!"
The weight of the soldier's words hit the room like a hammer. The commanders exchanged grave looks before Thorian rose to his feet, his movements swift and purposeful. "Take us to them, now."
The soldier nodded quickly and led them out of the room, down the winding corridors of the fortress. As they hurried through the passageways, the tension mounted with every step. The sound of their boots echoing against the stone walls mirrored the pounding of their hearts.
When they finally reached the infirmary, the sight that greeted them was grim. The once-sterile room was now a flurry of activity, with healers and medics rushing from one bed to the next, tending to the wounded. Captain Quinn, Emiko, Raiya, Tatsuki, Elowyn, and Zyra lay motionless on the beds, their bodies battered and bloodied. The air was thick with the scent of healing herbs and the faint metallic tang of blood. The sight of their comrades in such a state filled the room with an oppressive heaviness.
Standing beside one of the beds were Lucien and Zalthor, their faces pale and drawn, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and anger. The moment the commanders entered, Lucien's gaze met Thorian's, and the anguish in his eyes was unmistakable.
Thorian approached them, his voice firm but gentle. "What happened out there? Report."
Zalthor swallowed hard, the weight of their failure evident in his posture. He straightened, his eyes shadowed with fatigue and grief. "The mission… it didn't go as planned, Commander. We encountered a foe far more formidable than we anticipated. A man in a robe… he was powerful, beyond anything we've faced before."
Lucien stepped forward, his voice hollow, as if each word was a struggle. "He overpowered us, Commander. We fought with everything we had, but it wasn't enough. He… he took Nizara."
A heavy silence fell over the room as Zalthor's and Lucien's words sank in. The mere mention of Nizara's name seemed to pull the breath from the air, leaving a suffocating void.
Vice Commander Alda, her face ashen, finally asked the question that had been looming in the back of everyone's minds. "Where is Nizara?"
Lucien and Zalthor exchanged a look, their expressions darkening with a mixture of guilt and despair. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy with the unspoken truth. Zalthor's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with the effort to maintain control over his emotions.
After what felt like an eternity, Zalthor finally spoke, his voice rough and filled with sorrow. "Nizara… is gone. He didn't make it." He took a shaky breath, the memory of that final, brutal moment flashing in his mind. "The robed man… he put his blade through Nizara's heart. We tried to save him, but we were too late. He took Nizara's body with him."
The words hung in the air like a death knell. The pain in Zalthor's voice was a dagger to the heart of everyone present. Lucien's head dropped, his hands trembling at his sides as he fought to hold back the tears. The loss of their comrade, their friend, was almost too much to bear.
Commander Thorian closed his eyes, a deep frown etching into his face as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. Nizara's death was not just a loss to their squad—it was a blow to the kingdom itself. And with the Vaebreta Kingdom hanging in the balance, they could not afford to mourn, not yet.
Thorian opened his eyes, his expression hardening with resolve. "We can't let his sacrifice be in vain. The enemy is stronger than we anticipated, which means the kingdom is in even greater danger than we thought. We're running out of time." He turned to Zalthor and Lucien, his gaze sharp. "Follow me to my office. We need to prepare for what comes next."
As Thorian began to move, Commander Viktor stepped forward, his expression resolute. "I'm coming with you, Thorian. There are too few of us left to save the Vaebreta Kingdom. If we don't act now, it could be the end. I'll join the fight."
Vice Commander Alda, usually composed and measured, nodded in agreement, her icy blue eyes steely with determination. "As will I. We're all that's left, and we can't afford to lose any more ground. We need to strike back while we still can."
Thorian paused, looking at his two fellow commanders. A moment of understanding passed between them—a shared determination, a shared resolve. They had all faced countless battles before, but this one would be different. This one would be fought not just for victory, but for survival.
"Then it's settled," Thorian said, his voice a low growl of determination. "We prepare, and we fight. For Nizara. For the kingdom. For everything we hold dear."
With that, the three commanders, along with Zalthor and Lucien, turned and left the infirmary, the weight of their mission pressing down on them like a leaden shroud. The fight ahead would be brutal, the stakes higher than ever before. But they would not falter. They would not fail.
Because failure was no longer an option.
*To Be Continued…*