The battlefield was quiet now, save for the murmurs of soldiers tending to their wounds or collecting what supplies they could from the aftermath. The stench of blood and burnt wood hung heavy in the air. Calvin stood before his men, his voice firm and commanding, though his tone carried a weight of urgency.
"he's still alive in that castle," Calvin said, his piercing gaze fixed on the looming structure in the distance. "Me, Loris, and a few others will go in alone."
Loris raised an eyebrow, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. "We will?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Calvin turned to him and nodded firmly. "Yes." He scanned the crowd and pointed to a handful of men. "You, you, and you—follow my lead. The rest of you, stay here and guard the perimeter. This isn't over yet."
Without another word, Calvin and his chosen group made their way toward the castle, their figures disappearing into the shadows cast by its massive walls.
Hours passed. Kieran sat among the remaining soldiers, the fire crackling nearby as the men shared stories and jokes to lighten the mood. Most of it was nonsense—wild tales of improbable heroics or bawdy humor meant to keep their minds off the grim reality around them.
Kieran leaned back against a rock, his massive arms crossed over his chest, listening but not engaging. A deep sigh escaped him as he stood, the weight of waiting gnawing at his patience.
As he walked toward the entrance to the castle, those around him noticed and quickly moved to intercept him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, orc?" one of them demanded, stepping in front of Kieran and placing a hand on his chest.
Another soldier grabbed his arm, their tone more pleading than confrontational. "You can't go in there alone! Calvin gave his orders—stay put!"
Kieran stopped, his amber eyes narrowing as he looked down at them. His voice was calm but carried an undeniable edge of authority.
"It's been too long," he said, brushing their hands off him. "I'm not waiting anymore."
The men hesitated, unsure whether to stop him or let him go. But Kieran didn't wait for their permission. The tension in the air was thick as Kieran approached the castle's entrance, his broad frame silhouetted by the dim firelight behind him. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, a voice called out, cutting through the quiet.
"Wait, Kieran."
He stopped, half-turning to see Seraphina approaching, her expression calm yet determined.
Kieran let out a sharp breath, his frustration evident. "If you're here to order me to stand down, don't bother. I don't give a damn if you're my leader. I'm not staying here while Calvin, Loris, and the others are in trouble."
Seraphina crossed her arms, her tone steady but resolute. "I'm not here to convince you to stop. I know you won't listen to me even if I tried."
Kieran raised an eyebrow, his tone edged with irritation. "Then what do you want?"
She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "I'm coming with you. To save Calvin and the others."
Kieran scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't need your help."
Seraphina smirked faintly, her voice laced with quiet defiance. "I'm not asking for your permission, Kieran." She turned to Barrick, who stood nearby, watching the exchange with folded arms.
"Barrick," she called, "can you make sure nothing happens to our men while we're gone?"
Barrick gave her a firm nod, his gravelly voice steady. "Don't worry, sister. I'll take care of them."
Satisfied, Seraphina turned back to Kieran, her expression softening slightly. "Come on." Without waiting for a response, she stepped into the darkened entrance, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows.
Kieran stood there for a moment, watching her go. He muttered under his breath, "Good grief," before following, his heavy boots echoing softly as he disappeared into the castle. The castle's interior was suffocatingly dark, the air heavy with dampness and decay. Seraphina reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone wall. She spotted a torch hanging loosely from a rusted sconce and pulled it free. With a quick flick of flint, the flame roared to life, casting flickering light onto the surrounding gloom.
"There," she said, holding it up triumphantly. "Now we have light."
Kieran glanced at her, unimpressed. "Couldn't you use that magic of yours to make a spell for light instead?"
Seraphina sighed, her tone sharp but weary. "I've already used most of my magic. When I meditated to boost everyone's strength earlier, it drained me. You don't just bounce back from that instantly, you know."
Kieran smirked, a teasing edge in his voice. "See? Magic's weak. When it comes to a fight, physical strength always wins."
Seraphina shot him a glare, holding the torch a little higher. "Just wait until I master my magic, Kieran. Then we'll see who's weak."
Before Kieran could retort, a sudden, loud clatter echoed through the corridor. The sound ricocheted off the stone walls, filling the space with an ominous vibration. Seraphina let out an involuntary squeak and darted behind Kieran, clutching his arm.
Kieran turned, eyebrows raised. His hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword as he scanned the darkness ahead. Then, out of the shadows, a small figure darted into the torchlight—a rat, its glossy eyes glinting before it scurried away.
Kieran barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "It's just a rat, Seraphina. You planning to hide behind me every time a little rodent shows up?"
Seraphina straightened up, her face flushing red as she stepped away from him. "I wasn't hiding. I was... strategically repositioning."
Kieran smirked, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "Sure, sure. Stay behind me, though—I'll protect you from all the scary rats."
Seraphina glared at him, muttering under her breath. "You're insufferable."
Kieran chuckled, the sound low and gravelly, as they pressed on, the flame of the torch flickering with each step. The flickering light of the torch illuminated the damp stone walls as Kieran and Seraphina continued down the narrow corridor. The sound of their footsteps echoed ominously, blending with the distant drip of water.
Kieran suddenly raised a hand, signaling Seraphina to stop. "Hold up," he said in a low, sharp tone.
Seraphina halted mid-step, her grip on the torch tightening. "What is it?" she whispered, her eyes darting nervously to the shadows ahead.
Kieran didn't respond immediately. His sharp gaze scanned the corridor, muscles tensed like a coiled spring. Then, out of the darkness, faint shuffling sounds grew louder—uneven, dragging footsteps.
The torchlight caught the first twisted, decayed figure as it stumbled into view, its lifeless eyes locking onto them. Behind it, more began to emerge, grotesque and relentless.
Kieran let out a deep, irritated sigh, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered before raising his voice, his tone drenched in exasperation. "Zombies? Give me a fucking break."
Seraphina swallowed hard, gripping the torch tighter as she stepped closer to Kieran. The undead shuffled closer, their moans filling the air as the scene grew tenser by the second.