Chapter 34: Homecoming
The smell hit them before they saw it.
The stench of smoke, charred wood, and something darker—something that chilled Alex to her bones. Her group, bloodied but victorious, trudged along the familiar path toward their camp. What should have been a return to safety felt more like a descent into a nightmare. The sounds of battle still echoed in their minds, but as the group crested the final hill, what lay ahead silenced them all.
The camp—once a haven, a sanctuary of makeshift shelters and guarded perimeters—was now a wasteland of smoldering ruins. The blackened skeletons of tents twisted up from the ground like the bones of some monstrous, long-dead beast. Debris scattered across the once-bustling grounds, and the thick, acrid smoke still hung in the air, staining the horizon with grief.
Alex's heart sank as her gaze swept across the destruction. This wasn't just a raid. This was annihilation.
Beside her, Mason cursed under his breath, his fists clenching. "How the hell…?"
Alex didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind was a whirlwind, spinning with fear, anger, and something far worse—doubt. This was their safe place, their stronghold. And now, it was gone. She had led them into a fight with the rival faction only to return to nothing.
Her fingers itched for her sword, but violence wasn't the answer now. Her group needed her to be their leader, to have a plan. But how could she lead them when everything was slipping through her fingers?
"Spread out," she barked, her voice sharper than she intended. "Check for survivors. Supplies. Anything we can salvage."
The group hesitated for a split second—long enough for Alex to feel the weight of their uncertainty—but then they moved, scattering through the ruins like ghosts. She stood at the edge of the destruction, staring into the hollow remnants of what used to be home.
How did this happen? She replayed the last few days in her mind. They'd left to confront Gabriel's faction. Their camp had been fully fortified, with guards posted. This wasn't supposed to happen.
But it had.
As they combed through the wreckage, the silence was deafening. No shouts, no cries, no sound of survivors. Only the crunch of boots on broken ground. Every piece of wood, every twisted bit of metal told the same story—violence, swift and merciless.
After a long, excruciating hour, Mason returned, his face set in grim lines. "We found two bodies," he said quietly. "Both ours. Looks like they were executed. No sign of anyone else."
Alex's stomach twisted. She fought to keep her expression blank, but the horror was creeping in. "Executed?"
Mason nodded. "Shot in the head. No struggle. Whoever did this… they were efficient."
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. Efficient. Professional. This wasn't just some random attack or scavenger raid. This was targeted. Someone knew exactly what they were doing, and they knew how to hit where it hurt the most.
And it was her fault.
She had taken the best fighters with her, leaving the camp vulnerable. She had underestimated the threat, focused too much on Gabriel and not enough on the bigger picture. The Dominion was behind this—she was certain of it now. This was their message: You're not safe anywhere.
"We'll set up camp just outside the ruins tonight," Alex said finally, her voice hoarse. "Gather whatever supplies we can. We'll regroup tomorrow."
But as the group moved to obey, she saw it in their eyes—the doubt. The hesitation. The questioning. How many more blows could they take before the cracks in their unity split wide open?
That night, the camp was quieter than it had ever been. No one spoke more than necessary. They huddled close together, not for warmth but for the fragile sense of safety that numbers brought. But even in their closeness, Alex felt the distance growing between them.
Mason sat beside her, staring into the small fire they had managed to build. His face was lined with exhaustion, and his eyes—normally so sharp and alive—looked dull.
"Think we'll make it through this?" he asked, his voice low.
Alex didn't answer right away. She stared at the flames, the way they flickered and danced, devouring everything in their path. "We have to."
Mason let out a bitter laugh. "You sound like you don't believe that."
Alex clenched her jaw. "What I believe doesn't matter. I just need to keep them believing it."
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "And what happens when they stop believing in you?"
The question hit harder than it should have, like a knife slipped between her ribs. She had always been the leader, the one who had the answers. But now? Now she was scrambling, barely keeping her head above water. How long before the others saw that?
Mason didn't press the issue, and for that, she was grateful. Instead, they sat in silence, the fire casting long shadows around the
The challenge came the next morning.
As the sun rose, casting weak rays over the ruined camp, Alex gathered her group. What was left of them, anyway. They were battered, broken, and bruised—both physically and mentally. But they were still standing. For now.
"We can't stay here," Alex began, keeping her voice steady. "Whoever did this could come back, and we're in no shape to fight them off again. We'll move west, toward the mountains. It'll be harder for them to track us there."
She waited for the nods of agreement, the usual unwavering support.
Instead, there was silence.
From the back of the group, a voice spoke up. "And what makes you think they won't just follow us? They knew where we were. What makes you think they won't know where we're going?"
Alex's eyes snapped to the speaker—Ryan, one of the younger fighters. His face was gaunt, pale, but his eyes were burning with frustration.
"We can't just keep running," he continued, his voice growing louder. "We've been running ever since this started. First it was the rival faction, now it's this Dominion or whatever. When are we going to stop and fight back?"
"We can't fight them if we're dead," Alex shot back, her voice hardening. "We need to regroup, rebuild our strength. Running isn't giving up—it's survival."
Ryan crossed his arms, his expression defiant. "And how long are we supposed to just survive? What's the point if we're not fighting for something?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and Alex's stomach twisted. This was it—the moment she had feared. The cracks in their unity were widening, and she could feel control slipping through her fingers.
"We are fighting for something," she said, forcing calm into her voice. "We're fighting for our lives, for each other. The Dominion wants us to break, to turn on each other. We can't give them that."
Ryan shook his head, his jaw clenched. "Maybe we need a new plan. Or a new leader."
The air around them seemed to freeze, tension thickening as everyone waited for Alex's response. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to meet Ryan's gaze.
"You think you can do better?" she asked quietly.
Ryan hesitated for a split second—just long enough for Alex to see the doubt flicker in his eyes—but then he straightened, his voice firm. "Maybe. At least I wouldn't keep running."
The group's eyes flickered between Alex and Ryan, waiting to see who would break first. Alex clenched her fists at her sides, her mind racing. She couldn't afford to lose control now. Not when everything was on the line.
But she couldn't force them to follow her either. That wasn't leadership—that was tyranny.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice cold. "If you want to take over, go ahead. Lead them. But when they turn on you, when they lose faith in your plans, don't come crying to me."
Ryan's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down. "Maybe I will."
The group watched in tense silence as Alex turned on her heel, walking away without another word. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of leadership crushing her with each breath. She had been their leader for so long, but now…
Now, she wasn't sure who she was anymore.