The spy died smiling.
That was what unsettled Aric the most.
Even as his body collapsed—strings cut, silver eyes dimming—there had been no fear. No desperation. No final words begging for mercy.
Only that thin, knowing smile.
As if he had already seen the outcome of this war.
As if Aric's choices no longer mattered.
But they did.
And he would prove it.
They gathered in the old war room, deep within Eldermere's fortified manor.
The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the rough-hewn table. Around it, Lira, Kael, and a handful of their best warriors waited for Aric's decision.
Kael broke the silence first. "That spy didn't come here just to poison food and water." He leaned back, flipping a dagger between his fingers. "He was gathering information. Which means…"
Lira finished his thought. "House Margrave knows our weaknesses."
The room tensed.
It was the truth they had all been avoiding.
House Margrave had played their first hand without ever touching a blade.
Starving them. Spreading paranoia. Weakening them from the inside.
If Aric waited for the next move, Eldermere would not survive it.
"We attack first," he said.
No one argued.
Not this time.
The spy had given them something before he died.
Between his final, twitching breaths, he had whispered a single, crucial weakness.
"The supply lines. Lightly guarded. Only at night."
Aric didn't trust the words entirely.
Not from something that barely died like a man.
But if it was even partially true…
Then they had one chance to cripple the noble army before the battle even began.
"We burn their war camp."
Lira's eyes gleamed at the words. "Finally, some fun."
Kael's expression was more guarded. "If it's a trap?"
Aric's fingers curled into a tight fist.
"Then we fight our way out."
And none of them hesitated.
They moved through the forest like ghosts.
The night air was damp and heavy, the trees shrouded in an unnatural fog—lingering mist from the Rift's corruption.
Aric led the way, Lira just behind him, Kael and the others fanning out in the undergrowth.
They had chosen their best fighters for the mission—men and women who knew how to move without sound, how to kill without being seen.
Still, the silence felt wrong.
The forest should have been alive with the sounds of insects, the occasional rustling of night creatures.
Instead, there was nothing.
Not even the wind.
Lira muttered a curse. "This feels bad."
Kael agreed. "If it's this easy to sneak up on their supply lines, I don't trust it."
Aric didn't either.
But turning back was not an option.
Not anymore.
They reached the edge of the war camp just before midnight.
And everything was too quiet.
The camp stretched across the valley floor—rows of supply wagons, tent clusters, unlit fire pits.
But no guards patrolling the perimeter.
No campfires burning.
No movement at all.
Kael crouched beside Aric, his voice barely a whisper. "No torches. No watchmen."
Lira's grip tightened on her dagger. "It's a trap."
But it was too late to stop now.
Aric glanced at his fighters. Twenty men and women, waiting for his command.
He exhaled.
"Move in. Quietly."
And the hunt began.
----
The moment Aric stepped into the war camp, he felt it.
A presence.
Not just the unnatural silence.
Not just the lack of guards.
Something was watching.
But there were no eyes.
No movement.
Just rows of tents and supply wagons, shrouded in the flickering moonlight.
Lira crouched beside him, her dagger held loosely, but ready. "This feels too easy."
Kael, pressing himself against a wagon, muttered, "It's never this easy."
But Aric had already made his choice.
They had come here to burn.
And so, the fire began.
Flames spread fast.
Kael and his fighters worked swiftly, dousing supply carts in oil before setting them ablaze.
Lira moved like a shadow, slipping into tents and slashing through crates of rations, spilling grains into the dirt.
The camp was eerily flammable, as if the supplies had been left dry, waiting to be burned.
And that thought sent a chill through Aric's spine.
"Something's wrong."
He wasn't the only one feeling it.
A soft click echoed through the night—the sound of Kael's dagger snapping into place.
Then he cursed.
Lira, standing a few feet away, whirled around. "What?"
Kael exhaled slowly.
"Look at them."
And Aric saw it.
The knights of House Margrave had been asleep in their tents.
They should have been panicking.
They should have been screaming.
But instead—
They were standing.
Not rising from sleep.
Not rushing for weapons.
Just standing.
As if they had never been sleeping at all.
As if they had simply been waiting for the fire to start.
The flames burned brighter.
The knights turned in unison.
No battle cries.
No shouts of alarm.
Just a single, fluid motion.
One moment, they were still.
The next, they had drawn their swords.
And then—
They moved.
Not like an army breaking formation.
Not like men reacting to an ambush.
Like a single entity.
As if every knight was controlled by the same hand.
Aric's pulse pounded.
Lira hissed, stepping back toward him. "Tell me that's normal."
Kael's grip tightened on his blade. "I don't think we know what normal is anymore."
Aric made his decision.
"We're leaving. Now."
They ran.
The burning camp became a sea of smoke and chaos.
Aric's fighters moved fast, slipping between the wagons, cutting down any knight that stood in their way.
But the knights did not fall like men.
Some did not even bleed.
And some—
Some, after falling, simply stood back up.
Lira sliced a knight's throat clean through. The body collapsed.
And then—
It twitched.
And the knight rose again, sword still in hand.
Lira's breath caught. "Oh, f**k off."
Kael's dagger buried itself in another knight's spine.
But the knight kept walking.
Aric cut down two himself, fast, efficient strikes.
One of them stayed down.
The other?
Not even a stumble.
They weren't fighting an army.
They were fighting something else.
And that was when the Rift reacted.
A shockwave of energy rippled through the valley.
Not from the fire.
Not from the knights.
From the Rift itself.
It shuddered, pulsed.
And something in the valley shifted.
Kael saw it first. His voice was tight with disbelief.
"Aric."
Aric turned.
And in the distance, beyond the burning camp…
Something was rising from the ground.
Something massive.
Something that should not exist.
Aric's breath hitched.
Lira swore.
Kael exhaled sharply. "We need to run faster."
And so they did.
But as they fled into the forest, the knights did not chase them.
They simply watched.
And behind them, the Rift whispered Aric's name.