Rain poured from the sky as if the heavens themselves mourned, beating down on the dark green grass that was now dusted with a thin layer of snow, though the blades still managed to poke through. Sunlight filtered down through the clear, pale blue sky, while gray clouds in the distance churned and spiraled, gathering as if preparing for a storm.
Upon the side of The Bridgevault Mountains, set on the border between the Kingdom of Orerha and Yorothen, Lydus gazed out at a beautiful view. Large mountains, much bigger than the one he stood upon stretched hundreds of feet in the sky, so high that their peaks were partly covered by clouds. Though they were miles away—perhaps even farther—they felt as if they loomed just beyond his reach.
Lydus dropped to a sitting position, to his left a small stream trickling downhill like a miniature waterfall that shimmered gently in the sunlight. The air surrounding was fast paced, the wind batting against him in an almost brutal manner. It froze his face, dried his nostrils, but he didn’t quite mind. Days were hard and the only thing keeping him sane was nature.
His short black hair blew lightly in the breeze. He wore a sharp jawline with thin lips, and a short but straight nose, and adorned a heavier woolen jacket along with short leather boots and long leggings
Behind him, a footstep crunched, the sound of a twig snapping underfoot. Instinctively, Lydus turned, his body twisting as the grass pressed through his pants, the sensation sharp. A woman stood a few feet away, taller than average, with a face that seemed gentle yet soft. Her long, dirty blonde hair was neatly tied back, recently brushed, though her thin frame suggested she had seen better days, evidently malnourished.
“Damn…” Lydus muttered, drawing in a sharp breath that quickly turned into a cloud of mist as he exhaled. His eyes met hers—wide, expressive, and a shade of green that gleamed even through the mist of rain. But they were glossy too, reflecting something unsaid. “You scared me shitless, Emmelia.”
“That was the point,” she replied with a sly smile. "It’s freezing out here. Why don’t you come back inside?”
Lydus shook his head, fingers gripping the damp grass until it tore beneath his hands. “Soon,” he said quietly, turning his gaze back to the mountains. The rain was beginning to soak through his hood, cold droplets tracing his cheek like icy fingers. “She’s going to kill me.”
“Adira?” Emmelia asked, laughing softly. “You left your post, so honestly, I wouldn’t blame her.” She plopped down beside him, the wet ground barely fazing her. “But seriously, what’s going on?”
Lydus hesitated, his voice dropping to a near mumble. “How shitty you look.”
Emmelia responded with a quick jab to his arm, laughing despite herself. “Cut it out, asshole. I’m being serious.”
“Right.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. “Hunting grounds.”
Emmelia’s expression faltered for a moment. She was tired of hearing this but knew it would have hurt him to say it, “Maybe she’s right, Lydus. It’d be safer for Alex.” Emmelia’s expression faltered for a moment. She was tired of hearing this but knew it would have hurt him to say it, “Maybe Adira's right, Lydus. It’d be safer for Alex.”
“The world isn’t safer for...” He said loudly at first, before quieting down. She didn’t deserve a raised voice, “...for my brother if there’s no food.” Lydus managed, “With winter setting in, the animals are being pushed further and further back. If we could only expand the perimeter a few miles...”
“The Kingdom would notice...” Emmelia responded softly, “What about the crops?”
“What about them?” Lydus leaned back, letting the cold earth cradle his body. The chill didn’t bother him much. “I’m no gardener, but I’m pretty sure plants need sunlight… and there’s not a lot of that in the ridge.”
Emmelia drew her legs close to her chest, her eyes tracing the jagged outline of the mountains. The view was breathtaking, a reminder of how the world could be both stunningly beautiful and brutally unforgiving in the same breath. The universe had a cruel sense of balance, she thought. Duality of Life.
They didn’t speak for a good while, bathing in the moment. That was until Lydus broke the silence, “What are they saying about the war?”
Emmelia placed a hand on the ground beside her, steadying herself. “A stalemate,” she replied simply.
“Huh,” Lydus mused, turning his head slightly to look at her. “I figured if anyone could stop Orerha, it’d be Heladon.”
“They aren’t much better,” Emmelia replied, her voice stoic, but somewhat bitter inside.
“Still,” Lydus muttered, staring back at the sky, “it’d be a change of pace.”
Emmelia chuckled softly, though there was no joy in it. "Change of pace? Is that what we need?"
“Maybe,” Lydus said, closing his eyes. "Or at least something that makes us feel like we’re moving forward instead of running in place."
Glancing at something in the distance, she immediately switched gears, tired of these talks, “Isn’t it beautiful?” Emmelia asked. She pointed at a large city in the distance.
Many miles away, a castle stood resolute with towering stone walls that reached skyward. Curved rooftops ended in sharp points like spears, and banners fluttered unreadably from the impossible distance. A city encircled it, the buildings blending together from where they sat, yet still noticeable in their considerable size.
“And so far, away.” Lydus added, “Not looking for us.”
Before Emmeline could respond, a deep bell tolled in the distance. Its sound echoed through the mountains, not sharp or alarming but heavy, for three relentless seconds. The two exchanged glances, waiting for one of them to speak.
“Well…” Lydus finally broke the silence.
“Well?” Emmeline’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s Adira...” she said, standing up and extending her hand toward him.
Lydus tilted his head, “I’ll just pull you down.”
“You don’t think I’m strong enough?”
With a dramatic sigh, Lydus reached for her hand, and pulled himself up. “I guess you were.” He responded sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes but said nothing as the silence between them grew. Their footsteps crunched softly as they began to ascend the side of their small mountain. It wasn’t steep at first, but as they climbed, the incline grew sharper. The air always felt different up here—thinner, like it was harder to breathe. Perhaps it was just in their heads.
Each step left a faint, temporary mark in the frozen ground, their feet numb from the cold. Soon, the wind died down as a taller peak blocked its force. Lydus stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on something in the distance before shifting course, heading upward.
“Did we overshoot?” Emmeline asked, her tone light with curiosity.
Lydus shook his head. “I don’t think so...” His eyes landed on a small stone embedded in the ground, hollowed out and etched with a rune. Bending down, he pressed his fingertip into the indentation. A faint purple light flickered along the rune before fading back to black.
Emmeline opened her mouth to speak, but Lydus hushed her, stepping back. “Just wait…”
The ground trembled slightly, so faint it could almost be missed. Slowly, the earth caved inward, revealing a narrow passage leading into a dark cavern below.
“You said Arawn made this?” Emmeline asked, her eyes tracing the entrance.
Lydus stepped onto the incline, his boot slipping against the loose dirt. He lost his balance and hit the ground hands-first with a groan. “Yeah...”
“Idiot,” she muttered, sliding down with perfect ease and landing gracefully. Stepping over him, she extended a hand. “Adira doesn’t know, does she?”
“I got it,” he grumbled, pushing himself up with a hand against the wall. “No, and she won’t. This entrance is secure.”
“Alright, just be careful... also,” Emmeline glanced warily at the narrow corridor, “I’m claustrophobic.”
Lydus didn’t respond, instead pushing ahead into the cavern. With a sigh, she followed reluctantly.
The narrow passage stretched on for about forty feet, the walls closing in tighter as they descended. The ground was uneven, forming a rough staircase of natural rock that made each step treacherous.
“Thank God,” Emmeline muttered when they finally reached the end, wiping her hand against her cloak, damp with water that seeped from the rocks.
Before him stood a small archway, beyond which opened a view that, to Lydus, was familiar but still impressive. Two towering mountains pressed against each other, creating a hidden pocket of space sheltered from the outside world. At the far end of the valley, an opening revealed an endless stretch of forest. Nestled in the middle of this secluded place was a village.
Dozens of simple structures dotted the valley floor, most of them homes built from darkened wood with straw and leaf-covered roofs. They were elevated on sturdy supports, ready for the summer floods when melting snow poured into the valley. In the center stood a tall tower, twice as high as the other buildings, crowned with a bell. A statue stood solemnly at its base. From their vantage point, the two could see a small crowd of about 20 or 25 gathered near the statue.
“What a terrible sight,” Lydus commented dramatically.
Emmeline sighed and nudged him forward. “Come on, don’t be so moody.” She walked ahead, her pace brisk.
They descended a small incline, passing through sparse clusters of trees—thinner and shorter than those from the outside world. Overhead, the sky had turned grayer, clouds rolling in and thickening with an ominous weight.
As Lydus entered the village, the dirt path crunched beneath his feet, tiny puffs of dust rising with each step. The town was humble, yet it had a quiet charm that was hard to dismiss.
The murmur of the gathered crowd grew louder as they neared the village center, and Lydus felt his pace slow. He wasn’t eager for whatever awaited them in that circle of people. Confrontation was never something he looked forward to.
Grabbing the shoulder of one man, his face strewn with bruises and dirt, Lydus narrowed his eyes, “Where’s Adira?”
Almost startled, he pointed at a small stage in the distance.
Adira stood upon it. Black hair over her shoulders, expression frustrated like always. She had her arms crossed, waiting for the people to quiet down.
“Go up there.” Emmelia gently pushed him forward.
He didn’t respond but listened, pushing his way through the crowd, which, for reasons he couldn't quite understand, packed itself tightly together despite its small size. By the time he reached the front, Adira’s eyes had already spotted him and were trailing his movements. Lydus grabbed the edge of the platform, looking up at her.
“You’re an idiot,” Adira grumbled. “Get up here.”
Lydus let out a sharp breath, not wanting to escalate things. He tried pulling himself up, but that was too much effort. Instead, he threw one leg onto the platform and heaved himself over, rolling onto his back. “Like that?” he asked rhetorically, staring up at her.
Adira took a step back, allowing the man to climb to his feet. “Where were you?” she whispered in a low, tense tone.
“I was just—”
“We can’t hide from the kingdom if no one’s on lookout.” Adira took a breath, her gaze dropping to Lydus’s raised hand. “What?”
“No one...ever comes looking out here,” he said slowly. “The rebellion hasn’t done anything in months. They’ve forgotten about us.”
“Oh really?” Adira raised an eyebrow before turning to the crowd. She lifted a hand, and the murmur of voices quieted instantly. “Earlier today...” she began, her voice carrying over the group. Lydus rolled his eyes. Adira always tried to play the unofficial leader, and for whatever reason, everyone went along with it. “Kingdom patrols were spotted westward along the mountain line. Closest they’ve been in three months.”
Lydus glanced at the crowd. They remained quiet but exchanged hushed whispers. To him, it didn’t mean much. There were always reports—kingdom patrols transporting cargo, or scouts surveying for future infrastructure. None of it meant they were specifically searching for them.
Adira tilted her head, placing a firm hand on Lydus’s shoulder. “Also, earlier today,” she said with a sigh, her tone sharpening, “we had bandits... which we would have known about sooner if this...” She scrutinized his face, her gaze hardening. “...capable, competent man had held his post.”
Lydus could feel the crowd’s stare, but was too busy staring at the sky, pretending he wasn’t there, to notice.
“We pushed them back, but unfortunately, they ran.” His eyes scanned the crowd, yet stopped once not finding them, “The hunting grounds are being pulled back another half mile...”
“The hell they are—” Lydus finally spoke up, interrupting her, “Adira, you can’t make these decisions for everyone.”
She continued looking at the crowd, “It’ll be safer—and with the agriculture...”
“We are going to starve," Lydus retorted. He pointed vaguely toward the horizon. "There’s no agriculture. The soil here can’t support it. The animals are further back. We barely survived last winter, and you want to go through that again?”
“Lydus...” Emmeline shook her head in disbelief, “The bandits almost killed one of us. We’re down to fifty people, we can’t afford to lose more. They could still be—”
“They’re not,” came a deep, dramatic voice from behind. The crowd parted as a figure strode forward. Everett, dressed in worn leather gear, carried a sword in one hand and a woolen bag in the other, making quite the damn entrance. His shaggy brown hair, coupled with those dark, almost black eyes, always made him stand out.
Without a word, Everett tossed the bag onto the ground. From it, a head tumbled out, pale and frozen in an expression of terror. The man had a shaved head and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. Fresh blood still oozed from where it had been severed.
The crowd gasped, but Everett barely noticed. His gaze swept over them, almost feral, before he raised his sword high. “Their leader,” The man spoke, then brought the blade down with a sickening thud, piercing the skull of the fallen bandit. Everett’s eyes locked onto Adira’s, holding her gaze as he did so.
Lydus tilted his head slightly, watching Everett with a bemused expression. Always so dramatic, too dramatic at times, yet there was something about him that Lydus couldn’t help but admire.
“Not going to speak?” Everett’s eyes narrowed, locking onto Adira, his patience clearly waning. “Fine.” He turned sharply to face the gathered crowd. “All of you, go back.”
The crowd stood there, uncertain. Murmurs passed through the group. Why had this meeting even been called in the first place? It was clear Adira had more to say, but Everett’s grand theatrics had overshadowed everything.
After a few moments of hesitation, the crowd slowly began to disperse. Some lingered at first, reluctant to leave, but no one wanted to challenge Everett directly.
Once most of the villagers had returned to their homes, Adira jumped down from the platform, her boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. She approached Everett, her voice low but pointed. “Were you followed?”
He pointed at the decapitated head, “Does it look like I was?”
Adira mumbled a curse, then pressed a finger into his chest, “You could have alerted our position. The reb—”
“Rebellion?” Everett grabbed her hand, “We aren't a rebellion anymore. This place is falling apart, we need to venture out and find more resources but your b...” He looked around, trying to find a ‘nicer’ way to put it.
“He’s right,” Lydus spoke up from where he sat on the edge of the stage, his legs swinging slightly above the ground.
Everett shot him a sharp glare. “You stay out of this.”
“No,” Lydus replied firmly, meeting his gaze. “My father was in command just as much as either of yours. I should have a say in this too.”
Everett simply blinked at him, before shrugging it off and returning to Adira. In times like this, perhaps Lydus did not quite admire him.
“We don’t need a ton of men. Only a few of us. If we see anything suspicious, we’ll come back. Imagine how good some venison would do us.” Everett gently lowered her hand, “I mean... for fucks sake, we could rebuild again, but not without food.”
Adira pulled away, “I don’t care...” She muttered, “Last time—we’ve...” The woman hesitated, structuring her thoughts, “Losing people will end us. Once we figure out the agriculture, everything will work out.”
Something tugged Lydus out of the heated moment. Emmelia had grabbed his wrist, her voice quiet. "Come on." She nodded over her shoulder.
“No—I want to stay,” Lydus protested, but his defiance faltered.
"Alex, remember?" Emmelia cut him off, and that was enough. Lydus’s eyes widened in realization.
“Fuck... yeah...” He rubbed his face with both hands. Turning to Everett and Adira, he called out, “We’ll continue this later.” The remark was deliberate, meant to irritate them, and judging by their expressions, it worked.
With a smirk, Lydus walked off, his pace brisk. Even though it wouldn’t change much, it felt good to get under their skin.
Emmelia caught up easily, matching his stride. “That was petty,” she said, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement.
Lydus shrugged. “Felt right.”
“Good.” She said simply, then spun around, walking backwards whilst facing him, “Doesn’t mean you should do it.”
“I know.” He sighed, “But can you believe Everett? I was trying to back him up—.”
“Here we go...” Emmeline laughed, although it was a facade, “You’re funny.” She glanced at him, “Especially that face.”
Lydus tilted his head, mocking Adira, “Oh really?”
They continued walking for another minute, the air around them cold and stale, unchanged by the natural barriers that hemmed in their little world. Despite the isolation, carts and vendors lined the streets, creating a small, not-so-thriving community. To Lydus—and clearly to Everett—this wasn’t just the remnants of a rebellion against Orerha. It had grown into a miniature civilization of its own.
They stopped in front of an old, weathered home. The wooden structure was worn, the windows grimy with age. Without hesitation, Lydus pushed the door open like he owned the place—because, in fact, he did.
Inside, lanterns hung from the ceiling, swaying gently from thin ropes. Their flames flickered, casting dancing shadows across the sparsely decorated walls. The faint smell of mildew clung to the air, but it was nothing unusual—everyone had grown accustomed to it.
“Alex?” Lydus called out, his voice echoing flatly off the bare walls.
There was a creak from a bed, followed by the soft groan of floorboards. A moment later, a ten-year-old boy appeared from behind a poorly built doorway. He was the spitting image of Lydus, down to the dark hair, though his bone structure was softer, his features gentler.
"Hey," Lydus said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Alex grinned, wrapping both arms around him. "Missed you."
Lydus hugged him back, tighter than usual. “Hey, brother.”
It was just the two of them, and that was all that mattered. The only family Lydus had left, especially after their father had died so many months ago, claimed by a plague that had swept through the village, leaving devastation in its wake. Half the community gone, their father among the first.
All the leaders with him. So many had fallen, it felt like an apocalypse.
The boy glanced at the door, which was still swinging slightly. "Who was with you?"
"Emmelia," Lydus replied, crouching down to meet Alex's eyes. He raised an eyebrow, "She must’ve been in a hurry."
Alex sighed dramatically. "Now let’s get your ass in bed," Lydus continued, nodding toward the window. "Sun’s almost down."
"That’s not fair," Alex groaned, crossing his arms. "Bullcrap."
Lydus gave him a mock-serious look, "Hey... it’s bullshit," he corrected, grinning at his brother’s scowl. Then, with a softer sigh, added, "You know how Adira is about curfew."
Alex nodded reluctantly, “Have you talked to her yet?”
“About...” Then he realized, “Right. I forgot to ask, but I can show you how to hunt another time.”
Alex stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if this small oversight was the end of the world. “Tomorrow?” he asked, his voice laced with hope.
“Yeah, I promise,” Lydus said with a reassuring smile, gently pushing him toward the doorway. “Now go on.”
With a small, reluctant nod, Alex turned and walked back to his room, his boots squeaking wetly against the floorboards. Lydus remained kneeling for a moment longer, staring at the ground. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rose to his feet.
Tomorrow was another day.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
