The first rays of sunlight pierced through the smoky haze lingering over Riverend, casting the destruction in stark relief. The village, once quiet and unassuming, now bore the scars of a desperate battle. Smoke curled from smoldering rooftops, blood stained the dirt roads, and a grim silence hung over the square as the villagers began the solemn task of tending to their wounded and mourning their dead.
Alex stood in the middle of the chaos, gripping a splintered wooden staff he'd used during the fight. His body ached, his arms trembled from exhaustion, but adrenaline still coursed through his veins, keeping him alert. Around him, villagers moved like shadows, their faces pale and weary. Despite their exhaustion, there was an air of grim determination as they worked together to clean up the wreckage and rebuild what had been lost.
Mira strode through the square, her presence commanding attention even in the chaos. Her auburn hair, usually tied in a neat braid, was disheveled, and her leather armor bore scratches and scorch marks from the battle. She barked orders as she moved, her sharp green eyes scanning everything around her.
"Get those barricades reinforced! If the Blackfangs come back, I don't want them walking in here like they own the place!" she shouted to a group of villagers struggling to repair the entrance to the square. She turned to another group hauling the bodies of the fallen into a cart. "Make sure the pyre is ready before sunset. We honor the dead tonight."
Alex watched her, a mix of admiration and unease swirling in his chest. She had led them through the chaos of the night, rallying the villagers and holding the line against the Blackfangs. But now, in the light of day, the weight of the battle showed in her expression. The fire in her eyes remained, but there was a weariness there that hadn't been present before.
"You're still standing," Mira said, her voice cutting through Alex's thoughts. She had stopped a few feet away, looking him over with an appraising eye. "That's more than I can say for some."
Alex nodded, unsure of how to respond. "I just did what I could."
Mira's lips quirked into a faint smirk, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You didn't run, and you didn't get yourself killed. That's more than I expected when I first saw you." Her gaze shifted to the broken staff in his hands. "But if you plan on sticking around, you're going to need more than a glorified stick to defend yourself."
Before Alex could reply, a commotion near the edge of the square drew their attention. A group of villagers had gathered around a man slumped against a cart, his clothes bloodied and torn. Mira's expression darkened, and she strode toward the scene, Alex hurrying to follow.
The man was in bad shape. His face was pale, and his breathing was shallow. Mira crouched beside him, her hands steady as she examined his injuries. "What happened?" she asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.
The man struggled to speak, his voice weak and rasping. "Ambushed… on the road to Greystone… Blackfangs. They've set up… a camp."
Mira's jaw tightened. "How many?"
"Dozens," the man whispered before his eyes rolled back and he slumped forward, unconscious.
Mira stood, her expression grim as she turned to the villagers. "Take him to the healer and make sure he's stable," she ordered. Two men stepped forward, lifting the injured man carefully and carrying him toward one of the intact houses.
Alex glanced at Mira, his chest tightening. "They've set up a camp?"
Mira nodded, her green eyes hard. "It means they're not just raiding—they're trying to take control of the area. If they control the road to Greystone, they can cut off trade and supplies. Riverend won't survive long without that road."
"Can't we send for help?" Alex asked. "The baron—"
"Baron Eldrin," Mira interrupted, her tone laced with bitterness. "He's supposed to protect this region, but he only cares about Riverend when it's time to collect taxes. Even if we send word, it could take weeks for him to respond—if he responds at all."
Alex's stomach sank. The implications were clear. They were on their own.
---
The rest of the morning was spent in a frenzy of activity as the villagers worked to repair the damage from the battle and prepare for the possibility of another attack. Mira led the efforts, organizing groups to rebuild barricades, gather supplies, and keep watch on the surrounding forest.
Alex did what he could to help, hauling supplies and reinforcing the makeshift defenses under Mira's watchful eye. Despite his exhaustion, he pushed himself to keep up with the others. The villagers were hardened by years of hardship, their movements efficient and practiced. Alex felt like a child among them, struggling to prove his worth.
As he worked, he listened to the conversations around him, trying to piece together more about this world he had found himself in. The villagers spoke of lords and barons, rival factions, and the ever-present threat of bandits and rogue mages. It was clear that Riverend was just one small piece of a much larger and more dangerous world.
"They've been hitting the villages to the south for weeks," an older man muttered as he helped Alex lift a heavy beam into place. "Burning houses, stealing everything they can carry. They'll bleed us dry if we don't stop them."
"I heard they've got a mage with them," another man said, his voice hushed. "A firecaster. That's why we couldn't hold them off last night."
Alex frowned, remembering the flames that had danced in the hands of the Blackfang leader during the battle. The idea of fighting someone with that kind of power was terrifying. He glanced at Mira, who was nearby, sharpening her sword.
"Is it true?" he asked, his voice low. "Do the Blackfangs have a mage?"
Mira looked up, her expression grim. "They did. Rokan, their leader. But he's dead now." She glanced at the villagers around them before lowering her voice. "That doesn't mean we're safe. Mages like Rokan don't work alone. If he was here, it means someone bigger sent him."
Alex felt a chill run down his spine. "Someone bigger?"
Mira nodded. "Bandits like the Blackfangs don't have the resources to set up a camp and hold a road on their own. Someone's funding them. Maybe a rival lord, maybe a rogue mage trying to carve out territory. Either way, it's bad news for us."
Alex hesitated before speaking again. "What do we do?"
Mira's gaze hardened. "We fight."
---
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the villagers gathered in the square for a meeting. Mira stood at the center, her voice ringing out clearly as she addressed the crowd.
"We all know what's coming," she said, her tone firm. "The Blackfangs aren't going to stop with one raid. They've set up a camp on the road to Greystone, and they'll be back to finish what they started."
A murmur of unease rippled through the crowd, but Mira held up a hand to silence them. "We've sent a messenger to the baron, but we can't rely on him to save us. If we're going to survive, we need to take matters into our own hands."
"What are you suggesting?" one of the villagers asked.
Mira's expression was resolute. "We hit them first. If they're camped on the road, they'll be vulnerable. A small group can slip in and deal enough damage to scatter them."
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, their fear evident. Alex stepped forward, his heart pounding. "I'll go," he said, his voice louder than he intended.
All eyes turned to him, and he felt a wave of self-consciousness. But he forced himself to meet Mira's gaze. "I'll help," he said again, more firmly this time. "You need every able body you can get."
Mira studied him for a long moment before nodding. "All right," she said. "But this won't be like last night. If you hesitate, you'll die. Do you understand that?"
Alex nodded, his determination outweighing his fear. "I understand."
---
That night, under the cover of darkness, a small group of villagers set out toward the Blackfang camp. Mira led the way, her movements silent and deliberate as she guided them through the dense forest. Alex followed close behind, his heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.
The journey was tense, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the shadows seemed to press in from all sides.
After what felt like hours, they reached the edge of a clearing. Mira signaled for the group to stop, and they crouched low, peering through the underbrush. In the center of the clearing, a cluster of tents surrounded a roaring fire. Bandits moved about the camp, their weapons gleaming in the firelight.
Mira turned to the group, her voice barely above a whisper. "There are too many to fight head-on," she said. "We'll split up and hit them from different sides. Take out as many as you can without drawing attention. Once the camp is in chaos, we'll retreat."
The villagers nodded, their expressions grim. Alex felt a surge of anxiety, but he pushed it down. He couldn't afford to hesitate now.
Mira placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stick close to me," she said. "I'll cover you."
Alex nodded, gripping the short sword Mira had given him earlier. It felt awkward and heavy in his hand, but it was better than nothing.
As the group moved into position, Alex's mind raced. He had no experience with this kind of combat, no training, and no real understanding of what he was doing. But he knew one thing: he couldn't afford to fail.
The night was about to erupt into chaos, and Alex was determined to survive.