The morning air was too still.
Aric had spent years on battlefields. He had seen men stand at the edge of war and had felt the tension in the moments before the first blood was spilled.
But this?
This was different.
War had a rhythm.
The nervous murmurs of soldiers sharpening their blades. The restless clatter of shields and armor. The distant, haunting echoes of war horns.
This battlefield had none of that.
It was silent.
A silence was so unnatural, so absolute, that Aric's skin crawled.
He stood atop Eldermere's battered wooden walls, gripping the rough railing so hard that splinters dug into his fingers.
Below, the valley stretched wide, darkened by the storm-heavy sky.
And in the distance—
They were waiting.
House Margrave's army had arrived.
And yet, they did not move like an army.
They stood, motionless, stretching across the valley floor like a sea of black and silver.
Hundreds of them.
Their armor gleamed beneath the dim sunlight, their swords sheathed at their sides.
There were no shifting stances, no restless glances between comrades.
No shifting of shields, no eager hands tightening on weapon hilts.
Just stillness.
A living wall of silver and black.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The sound was too perfectly timed.
A slow, methodical movement.
Like a hundred heartbeats, beating as one.
Lira stood beside Aric, her green eyes narrowing. Her grip on her dagger was white-knuckled.
"They're not human."
Kael, standing a few feet away, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you just figure that out?"
His tone was light, joking.
But his hands—his hands were clenched into fists.
He felt it too.
The wrongness.
The unnatural order of this army.
Something was coming.
And then—
The siege engines appeared.
----
A deep drumbeat rumbled through the valley.
Once.
Twice.
A slow, steady rhythm, shaking the cold morning air.
Then—
The first siege engines rolled into view.
Massive catapults, their wooden frames reinforced with iron bands, emerged from behind the noble ranks.
Their arms were already drawn back, loaded with fire-soaked boulders the size of wagons.
Men moved mechanically around them, preparing the next shots.
Not rushing.
Not scrambling.
Just… precise.
Their movements eerily smooth, synchronized.
Like puppets on invisible strings.
Aric felt his chest tighten.
This wasn't just a show of force.
This was destruction.
Then—
The first flaming projectile soared.
A great, burning comet, ripping through the sky.
Its fire-trailing arc illuminated the valley, reflecting off the motionless knights below.
It crashed into Eldermere's walls.
The impact was thunderous.
Wood splintered.
Stone cracked.
The wall shook under the force, raining shards of debris into the streets below.
Screams echoed from the village.
Somewhere behind him, someone was crying.
Aric did not turn.
Another boulder launched.
It struck a watchtower, sending flaming debris cascading down onto the rooftops.
The fire spread instantly, embers licking hungrily at the dry wood.
Aric's fingers curled into a fist.
"Archers—now!"
----
The defenders of Eldermere moved fast.
Men and women rushed to their positions, their bows already drawn.
From the rooftops.
From the barricades.
From every point of defense.
They had one chance before the enemy reached the walls.
Aric raised his arm.
"Loose!"
The first volley streaked through the air, a storm of iron-tipped shafts.
Arrows pierced through the knights' armor, sinking into exposed throats, joints, chests.
Some knights staggered.
Some collapsed.
And yet—
They did not scream.
They did not cry out.
And then—
They got back up.
Lira took a sharp step back.
"…No," she whispered.
Kael let out a slow, sharp breath.
"Oh, for fk's sake."
Aric's pulse pounded.
This was the war camp all over again.
But this time—
There was no escape.
Some of the knights had arrows still lodged in their flesh.
Some had shafts protruding from their eye sockets, their throats.
And yet—
They moved like nothing had happened.
One knight reached up, gripped the arrow buried deep in his chest—
And pulled it free.
The wound bled.
But the knight kept walking.
Another, with an arrow lodged in his neck, simply snapped the shaft in half.
As if it were nothing more than an inconvenience.
Aric's fingers tightened on the railing.
"Another volley!"
The second wave of arrows flew.
More knights fell.
And still, they did not stay down.
The Rift shuddered.
The storm overhead twisted, its winds bending unnaturally.
And Aric knew.
They were out of time.
The army was closing in.
The siege had truly begun.
----
The air crackled with tension.
The knights kept marching, their movements unnervingly synchronized, even as Eldermere's defenders fired volley after volley.
Some of the black-armored soldiers fell.
Some of them staggered.
But none of them screamed.
And then—
They got back up.
Aric's pulse pounded.
The Rift was shuddering now, its presence felt in the very bones of the earth.
The sky twisted above them, the storm clouds darkening into an unnatural vortex.
And suddenly—
The world shifted.
The battlefield blurred for a heartbeat, the ground beneath his feet feeling unsteady.
Then—
Aric wasn't standing on the walls of Eldermere.
He was somewhere else.
A battlefield far older.
A war long forgotten.
And in the distance—
He saw himself.
Or rather—
The man he had once been.
Seated upon a throne of bones.
And then—
The Rift dragged him back.
His breath came ragged, uneven.
Lira was staring at him.
"Aric?" Her voice was sharper now.
He shook his head. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't.
Because the Rift had shown him something.
And now—
It was watching.
The knights of House Margrave stopped.
All at once.
As if they, too, had heard something.
Their helmets tilted upward, facing the Rift.
And then—
They moved.
Not as an army.
Not as a collection of men.
But as a single, monstrous force.
They broke into a run.
----
The charge was silent.
Hundreds of armored knights, sprinting toward the gates, their swords drawn, their shields locked into an unbroken wall of steel.
No war cries.
No shouts of rage.
Only the heavy thunder of boots against the earth.
And then—
They hit.
The impact shook the gates.
Wooden beams splintered, sending cracks crawling up the structure.
Villagers screamed, scrambling to brace the barricade.
Lira grabbed Aric's arm.
"They're breaking through!"
Aric's jaw clenched. He had one last order to give.
"Hold the gates!"
The second impact came.
The wooden barrier groaned under the force.
Kael's dagger flew from his hand, embedding itself into a knight's throat.
But it didn't matter.
The knight kept moving.
The Rift shuddered violently.
And then—
The final blow struck.
The gates exploded inward.
Wood shattered.
Splinters flew like daggers, cutting into the defenders.
And then—
The knights of House Margrave poured into Eldermere.
The battle was here.
And Aric was out of time.