The night mist enveloped The Crimson Blades' camp, creating a heavy, silent atmosphere, like the final breath of a soldier on the battlefield. Around the campfire, faces marked by wounds and exhaustion stared blankly at the flickering flames, as if trying to ward off the dark shadows of their memories. The loss of Raedan had shaken everything, breaking the fragile spirits of the group.
Carl, usually cynical and sharp-tongued, sat silently, slowly wiping the dried blood from his sword, his gaze empty, staring into the darkness. On the other side, Torren stood apart, watching their remaining group, who now seemed like mere shadows of what they once fought for.
A little further away, Caelum gazed at Raedan's sword, lying atop tattered cloth. The symbol of strength and leadership now seemed like a dead artifact, no longer reflecting bravery or authority. The world felt wrong, as if it had lost its compass.
Torren approached, his heavy voice breaking the silence. "Elira, Daryn, and I decided to hold a simple burial tomorrow morning," he said quietly. "Raedan deserves that."
Caelum merely nodded. Raedan's last words echoed in his mind, pulling him into a whirlpool of doubt. How could he live up to that? He was only fifteen, and the world was demanding more than he'd ever imagined.
"We will," he finally spoke, almost a whisper. "But we have to move on right after. The Empire won't give us time to mourn."
Torren stared at him for a long moment, his eyes showing concern yet hope. "You're right. But don't be too hard on yourself, Caelum."
Caelum said nothing. In his heart, he knew that self-pity would only lead to ruin.
---
The next morning, The Crimson Blades gathered by the small river flowing through the valley. Raedan's body, wrapped in fading white cloth, lay on a simple raft. The wind carried the damp scent of wood and water, adding to the solemn atmosphere.
Elira stood by Raedan's body, holding an arrow tipped with oil. Her eyes were red, but her gaze was firm, despite the deep loss.
Caelum stepped forward, holding Raedan's sword. He stood before everyone, trying to mask his nervousness with a cold face. Every eye was on him, waiting for the words that should give meaning to their loss.
"Raedan was more than just a leader," he said firmly. "He was our pillar, our protector, our compass in this chaotic world."
He paused, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of his burden. "This world doesn't care about justice. But we cannot give up. We must continue this fight. For Raedan. For those we've lost. We are not just mercenaries. We are family. And I swear, I will carry Raedan's resolve and defend The Crimson Blades."
Elira lit the arrow, her gaze meeting Caelum's for a brief moment before she released it. The flames quickly spread to Raedan's body. The river slowly carried the raft away, sending him into eternity.
---
After the burial, they quickly packed up. There was no time to linger in a place that could become a trap. Their stolen documents, containing the Empire's plans for a massive invasion to the south, were the only reason they had come this far.
"We have to get to Eldoria," Carl said, staring at the map spread before him. "These documents are useless if we don't deliver them to the rebels."
Torren furrowed his brow, giving Carl a cold look. "Raedan never agreed to ally with the rebels. He believed we should remain independent."
"Raedan is dead," Carl shot back sharply. But he immediately bit his tongue when he saw the anger in Torren's eyes.
Caelum lifted his head, his voice calm but filled with authority. "We're going to Eldoria. Raedan may not have agreed to ally with the rebels, but he signed off on this mission."
His decision was firm, non-negotiable. He continued, "Raedan wanted us to survive, and survival means making hard choices. The Empire won't show mercy. If we don't have allies, we'll be destroyed."
---
The journey to Eldoria was tense. Every shadow in the forest felt like the watchful eyes of enemies. The sound of breaking branches in the night kept them alert, swords and arrows ready in their hands.
One night, while Caelum was on watch, he heard something. Light footsteps, followed by a soft whisper: "Caelum..."
His hand gripped his sword tightly, his eyes scanning the darkness. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
There was no answer. But the voice came again, this time softer, like the wind whispering in his ear. "Don't give up..."
The voice... his mother.
He stared into the forest, hoping to find something, but only darkness answered. The voice faded like a vanishing dream. But in his heart, something stirred, giving him a strange, small strength.
"I won't give up, Mom," he whispered into the quiet night.
---
Finally, they saw the Eldwyn forest stretching ahead, a vast expanse of trees, the territory of the Elves. But before they could even think about how to pass through it, a scout came running, breathless.
"The Empire is targeting us," he said. "They've sent the Black Guard."
All eyes turned to Caelum. Tired faces waited for a decision.
"We can't keep running," he said firmly. "We will fight. Not for ourselves, but to ensure Raedan's resolve lives on."
The decision was like a gong ringing in the air. They knew this battle could be their end, but no one protested.
And in the midst of their preparations, Caelum stood before his men, silencing his doubts, trying to become the leader they needed. In his chest, he still felt the voice of his mother, a reminder that hope, though fragile, still existed.