Adira took a deep breath, tugging at a lock of hair in frustration. She leaned heavily against the balcony of a towering structure that stretched high above, overlooking the entrance to the Bridgevault Rebellion.
Four large, dark wooden pillars rose up, weathered and sunken with time. Stone bricks filled the gaps between them, constructing solid walls that provided much of the structure’s strength. The roof curved into a gentle slope, designed to let rainwater flow down and away, preventing it from pooling. Below the roof sat the balcony, enclosed by a wooden fence, allowing those standing there to gaze out over the landscape.
Her eyes flicked to the stairway entrance as a man approached. He had a scruffy white beard and thin brown hair.
“Well?” she asked, quickly shifting her posture to appear more composed.
The man hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. “An army,” he muttered. “Small, but about sixty soldiers strong.”
“Sixty...?” Adira’s voice wavered, her gaze drifting to the distant forest. “How long?”
“By dawn, at best.”
“That’s not possible. The closest city is miles away.”
He stepped slowly to the balcony’s edge, pointing into the distance. “There’s a military base only a few miles out. Why they’re here, we don’t know…”
“Fuck...” Adira cursed softly, her chest tightening. She took another steadying breath. “Ready every able-bodied person. We have enough supplies stockpiled to equip them.”
The man nodded and hurried back down the stairs. Once he was gone, Adira let herself sink back against one of the pillars, sliding down until she was sitting. She gazed up at the sloped roof above, tears welling in her eyes. Her fist clenched hard.
“Motherfucker...” she whispered under her breath. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t let her rage boil over—someone would notice. Instead, she spoke softly into the void. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Adira rubbed her eyes, fingers now wet, “I don’t want to fail...how could we...how could we make it out of this one?”
But no one answered. No one ever did.
---
Lydus sat on a weathered bench, his gaze fixed on a stone marker. From a distance, it appeared like a mass of scribbled lines, but up close, it held something dead—his father’s name. He stared at the gravestone absentmindedly, lost in thought, failing to take in the world around him. Earlier, he had finished his shift on lookout and, as he always did, came here.
The graveyard, once small and sparse, had grown. Now, hasty patches of dirt and numerous headstones dotted the area—each marking the resting place of men and women succumbed to the universe. These were the forgotten. People who would fade completely once their descendants were gone. Never ever to be remembered again. Poor souls who had endured the suffering of life, only to be discarded by the universe, their existence deemed insignificant.
The rain had temporarily stopped, but Lydus knew more was coming. The storm still churned above, violent and restless. It must have passed at just the right angle to miss the ridge and only batter the mountain, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Soon, the storm would shift and roll down toward them. In fact, the smell that comes with rain, that of damp earth, was pungent.
Leaning forward, Lydus placed a hand on the gravestone, feeling its cold, coarse surface. Despite being placed there no more than two years ago, the stone already looked worn, as if time had aged it faster than normal. He pulled his hand back and sniffled—not from tears or sadness, but from allergies of all things. Yet, the irony of it only made him feel worse.
He tilted his head back, gazing at the sky. The sun had begun to set, casting beautiful rays across the horizon, painting it in hues of deep reds and purples, with soft blues lining the edges. Between the mountains, they only had a brief window to glimpse this beauty, and each time he did, it felt like a gift—a fighting moment of peace amid everything else. It was always breathtaking.
All of that was pulled away as a tap on the shoulder came, causing him to nearly jump out of his seat, “Damn—” He flinched, glancing at Bodo who now stood there, “You almost...”
"Adira's called for an attack," Bodo cut him off. Lydus narrowed his eyes, glaring at him.
"This better be a joke..." Lydus muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart seemed to freeze when Bodo shook his head.
"What do you..."
"She wants all able fighters to gather at the armory and the front entrance," Bodo continued. His gaze briefly flicked to Lydus's father's gravestone before adding, "I'll leave you to it, but don’t take too long."
Bodo’s eyes faltered as he turned and walked away, not slowly, but at a brisk pace.
Lydus swallowed hard, eyes drifting to the marker. He didn’t want anyone else to die. How could they? Perhaps it was a false alarm, it had to be. There was never an attack. The kingdom didn’t fucking care. They were too busy in their own self-affairs to worry about some ex-rebellion on brink of extinction.
Again, he lost track of time, mind wandering, “Shit.” He mumbled as a flash of lightning brought him back. He slid off the bench and, in a run, dashed for the armory. A small building located toward the entrance, more of a large tent than anything else.
Still dressed in his hunting gear, Lydus slowed to a stop, scanning the crowd in search of Adira. Villagers of all shapes and sizes, mostly men, were bustling about, gathering whatever weapons and armor they could find—leather, steel, chainmail, swords, spears—anything to prepare themselves. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, and the noise of chattering voices and clanking gear was deafening.
Not spotting her, Lydus approached a lone villager waiting by the gear table. “Where’s Adira?” he asked, but the man either didn’t hear or chose not to respond. Growing impatient, Lydus shoved his shoulder and repeated more forcefully, “Where is Adira?”
The man jumped, eyes wide in surprise, then quickly pointed toward the entrance. Without wasting a second, Lydus turned to run but slipped, his boots skidding in the mud. He crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, the rough dirt scraping his forearms raw, his blood and the rainwater soaking the earth. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself back up and resumed his sprint.
Lightning flashed overhead, but something about the light caught his eye. It wasn’t blue—no, it seemed more like a deep, alien-like purple. Just a trick of the mind, he thought. Or perhaps it was something more sinister, mocking the panic and chaos around them.
The entrance came into view, a small line of about ten people already gathered there. Some were dressed in heavy armor, others in simple leather gear. A few wielded long bastard swords, while others clutched nothing more than daggers and battered shields.
“Adira?” Lydus cupped his hands around his mouth and called out into the dimming light of dusk, his voice strained. His eyes scanned the line, now covered in darkness as the sun had fully set.
There she was, standing at the front, arms crossed, staring at him with a judging look. She didn’t respond, just watched. Muttering a curse under his breath, Lydus pushed through the line of villagers until he was close enough to speak with her.
“Bandits?” he asked with a low voice.
Adira continued to stare, not saying a word.
Frustration bubbled up in Lydus as he stammered, “Can—can you tell me what the hell is going on?”
Finally, Adira spoke, her tone flat. “That man Everett ran into… a scout from the kingdom.”
Lydus felt a chill run down his spine. “It couldn’t have been,” he muttered, swallowing hard. “They would’ve taken days to reach us.”
Her eyes flicked to the distance; her eyes told a different story. “They’ve set up a military base nearby. The general must’ve marched them here—tens of soldiers, Lydus.”
His stomach twisted. “Tens?” he muttered under his breath. “We could evacuate everyone.”
“To where?” Adira’s voice cracked, expression falling. “Ultriver is the only option, and we can’t move an entire village there without being noticed. We’d be killed before we made it.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Where’s Everett?”
“I—I don’t know,” Lydus admitted. “He wasn’t at the…”
Before he could finish, arrows whizzed through the air like silent birds in the night, barely visible under the pale moonlight. They didn’t hit anyone, instead embedding themselves deep into the dirt at their feet.
“Quiet!” Adira hissed, raising a hand to signal everyone to stay still as more men arrived. She squinted into the darkness, her eyes narrowing.
The rain returned, pounding down on them relentlessly, bouncing off their armor with a sharp clink. The sound of water hitting metal grew louder, almost overwhelming. Adira signaled to the archers, and they drew their bows, fingers trembling as they waited.
One minute. Two minutes. Nothing. Then, three minutes passed, and the foliage began to stir. Four minutes, and the shuffling grew louder. A torch flickered in the distance, revealing multiple faces, watching from the shadows.
The shouting began.
Soldiers burst from the tree line, swords raised, and shields drawn as they charged the defensive line Adira had set. Thirty villagers, hastily armed, joined the fight, fresh from the armory.
The battlefield erupted into chaos. Swords clashed with deafening shrieks, and arrows flew overhead. Sparks flew into the air like fireworks as steel collided with steel. Men fell on both sides, but the kingdom’s soldiers had numbers on their side. Blood sprayed into the air with every fatal strike, contorting with the rain and mud.
Lydus drew his sword, gripping the hilt tightly. A soldier, adorned in sleek silver armor, advanced on him. They circled each other, the rain pouring down, soaking them both. As another flash of lightning illuminated the battlefield, Lydus lunged, feinting toward the soldier’s head. The soldier moved to block, but Lydus swiftly changed direction, slashing his kneecap.
“FUCK!” The soldier cried out in pain, stumbling backward. He threw his sword forward in retaliation, but Lydus blocked the blow, though his wrists ached from the impact.
They were now face to face, rain dripping from their helmets, making it harder to see. With a sudden burst of strength, Lydus kicked the soldier in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. The soldier’s sword slipped from his grasp, skidding out of reach.
Without hesitation, Lydus raised his weapon high and drove it into the man’s neck. The soldier gurgled, blood spurting from the wound as his body convulsed violently before going still.
Panting, Lydus looked around—his side was losing ground. Adira’s voice rang out as she ordered the archers to fire another volley. Arrows sailed through the air, finding the gaps in the soldiers’ armor. Four fell, but it wasn’t enough.
“Adira!” Lydus shouted as he hurried toward her.
“Get Alex to safety!” she barked; voice strained.
Lydus’s heart sank. In the chaos, he’d completely forgotten about Alex. “Fuck,” he muttered, sheathing his sword. “Don’t die.”
Adira gave him a brief nod with a doubtful expression. That was all he needed. Lydus turned and sprinted toward the village, the sounds of battle fading behind him as the rain beat down harder.
Taking a shortcut between two buildings, he reached his home, practically leaping up the stairs. The door swung open, and he rushed inside. No candles were lit—just darkness. A bad feeling churned in his gut as he carefully treaded the floor.
“Alex?” Lydus whispered, but there was no response.
Feeling his way through the dark, his hand brushed against the wall as he moved toward Alex’s room. The bed creaked softly.
“Al—” Before he could finish, a figure tackled him from the shadows, slamming him to the ground. The attacker tried to pin him down, but Lydus fought back, using his legs and free arm to shove the figure off. Rolling to his feet, he charged forward, slamming the attacker into the wall.
A groan of pain made him pause. “Emmelia?” Lydus gasped, stepping back.
“Ugh… yeah, it’s me,” she groaned, holding her abdomen. “Lydus?”
“Fuck—did I hurt you?” he stammered, panicking.
“No, no,” Emmelia replied through clenched teeth. “And before you ask, Alex is on the bed.”
Lydus exhaled in relief, his eyes darting to the bed. “Alex?”
“I’m here,” came the boy’s small voice.
“Thank god,” Lydus muttered before turning his attention back to Emmelia. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“It’s fine,” she reassured him.
He nodded, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Alright, we have to move—Alex, come here.” The boy hurried over and took his hand. “Stay close. You too,” Lydus added, nodding at Emmelia. Then, with quiet hesitation, added, “You suck at fighting.”
Without waiting for a response, Lydus led them out into the storm. The rain pounded against the windows, each drop hitting harder than the last, as if the sky was unleashing all its fury on the village below.
The line had crumbled. Soldiers of Orerha were flooding deeper into the village, advancing so far that Lydus could now see their figures moving down the path. The rain and darkness offered a brief cover, but it wouldn’t last long. They hadn’t been spotted yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Fuck, Lydus thought, panic beginning to rise in his chest. Where the hell do we go?
Then, it hit him—Arawn's exit point. It was a longshot, and Lydus wasn’t entirely sure it worked both ways, but it was nearby. He had to take the risk.
"This way," he whispered, tightening his grip on Alex’s small, slippery hand.
Emmelia, still gripping the wall for balance, whispered hoarsely, "I can't see."
Lydus glanced back at the soldiers closing in, then grabbed Emmelia’s wrist without another word. "Don’t run, don’t make any noise," he instructed them, his voice barely audible above the rain. "Or... we’ll be six feet under."
Their silence was enough of a confirmation. He led them through the narrow spaces between buildings, keeping low and moving carefully, his mind racing as he tried to remember exactly where the exit was. Was it in the south of the ridge? No, that couldn’t be right.
Twisting around another corner, his eyes finally landed on it—the hill, half-hidden by the jagged mountain walls. Somewhere near its base was the small cavern that led to Arawn’s secret exit.
Without hesitation, he began moving toward it, pulling Alex and Emmelia along. Their hands were slippery. Perhaps from sweat, rain, or a mix of both. His grip tightened, determined not to lose them in the chaos.
The soldiers were further behind now, giving them enough space to pick up the pace. "Faster," Lydus muttered, his voice barely more than a grunt. Grass squished underfoot as they passed over damp ground, the sounds of crunching leaves and snapping branches breaking the stillness of the night.
The incline steepened.
Quicker, quicker.
Suddenly, Alex let out a sharp yelp as his foot slid out from under him. His small frame hit the dirt with a thud, and his weight pulled Lydus and Emmelia down as well. All three slid backward, tumbling down the muddy slope. Grime clung to them, coating their clothes as they came to a messy stop.
Lydus scrambled to his feet, covered in mud but not caring. He pulled Alex up, checking him over quickly, "Are you okay?"
Alex nodded, though clearly shaken, and Lydus turned to Emmelia, who was already rising, her face streaked with mud.
"Keep going.”
“My leg…” Alex whimpered, letting go of Lydus’s hand and stumbling back.
“Alex—” Lydus hissed under his breath, panic tightening his voice. He glanced at the shadows in the distance, squinting through the rain. His heart sank as he saw the figures move—soldiers, charging straight toward them. “Motherfucker,” Lydus cursed, unsheathing his sword with a metallic screech.
They were closing in fast, their shapes barely visible through the downpour, but Lydus could hear their heavy, ragged breaths—animalistic, almost. His pulse quickened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He steadied his stance, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly as the soldiers approached, their armor glinting faintly under flashes of lightning.
His feet shifted in the mud, and he waited, watching them get closer, moving slowly now, as if savoring the moment. They were trying to intimidate him, and in a way, it was working.
“Don’t move,” a third voice said, cutting through the chaos as the two soldiers parted to allow another man to step forward. Lydus hadn’t seen him before, but he was unmistakably the leader. He held a finely crafted wooden bow, its iron-tipped arrow drawn back, aimed squarely at Lydus’s head. The archer’s posture was rigid, his voice calm and deep. “Drop it.”
Lydus hesitated, heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed hard and let his sword fall to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Smart boy,” the archer sneered, his tone shifting to something mocking. He then glanced at Emmelia, his lips curling into a quaint grin. “She’s a pretty one, ain’t she?”
Emmelia didn’t flinch, eyes steadily cold. “Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”
The archer barked a laugh, elbowing one of his comrades. “Did you hear that?” His grin quickly faded as he turned the arrow toward Emmelia, his expression hardening. “What a bitch.”
In that split second, Lydus saw his chance. With a roar, he lunged forward, tackling the archer to the ground. The bow clattered away, and the two men rolled in the mud, grappling for control.
Emmelia’s eyes widened at the sudden chaos, but she didn’t hesitate. With instinct taking over, she grabbed Lydus’s discarded sword as the other two soldiers advanced on her. She wasn’t skilled in sword fighting, but there was no way she’d go down without a fight.
Lydus and the archer scrambled to their feet, but before the archer could draw his dagger, Lydus drove his boot into the man’s stomach, sending him stumbling backward. The archer’s armor absorbed some of the blow, but it was enough to knock the wind out of him. Lydus wiped the blood and mud from his mouth, realizing too late that he had left his bow back at the lookout.
“Fuck…” he muttered, catching his breath.
Emmelia, meanwhile, held the sword awkwardly but firmly, backing up as the two soldiers closed in on her and Alex. She grabbed Alex’s arm, pulling him behind her as they circled her like wolves. Why weren’t they attacking? she wondered.
Her question was answered as one of the soldiers lunged forward, swinging his longsword in a quick arc. Emmelia barely managed to block the strike with both hands, the force of the blow nearly sending the sword from her grip. The blades clanged together, sliding toward the cross guards. Her wrists screamed in pain from the strain.
The soldier smirked, clearly enjoying the game. But Emmelia was no stranger to desperation. She scrunched her nose, then remembered the incline they stood on. She pushed forward with just enough force to unbalance the soldier, sending him tumbling backward down the hill. His head cracked against a rock with a sickening sound.
“Ah... FUCK!” he cried out, clutching his bleeding head.
Emmelia took a shaky breath, her chest heaving as she glanced at Lydus. He was locked in a deadly struggle with the archer, the man’s dagger inching closer to Lydus’s throat. Lydus gritted his teeth, sweat and rain pouring down his face.
Suddenly, Emmelia surged forward, driving the sword through the archer’s neck. The man’s eyes bulged in shock; his gurgling breath cut short as blood poured from the wound. He collapsed to his knees, then fell to the side, rolling down the hill.
Emmelia gasped, staring at her bloodied hands, her grip slackening as the sword fell from her fingers. “Shit... I... I...” Her voice trembled as she stumbled back.
Lydus panted heavily, his chest heaving as he looked at her, but there was no time for words. His eyes flicked toward the last soldier, still struggling to stand. Without hesitation, Lydus picked up the sword Emmelia had dropped, stomping toward the man. His face twisted in fury, he wrapped an arm around the soldier’s neck and slashed it clean through with a guttural snarl. Blood sprayed across the grass as the soldier fell, choking on his own breath.
Lydus stood over the body, panting as the adrenaline coursed through him. Then, exhausted, he collapsed onto his back, staring up at the stormy night sky, his chest rising and falling rapidly. It’s over, he thought. We survived.
But the brief relief was shattered by Emmelia’s panicked voice. “Oh... oh my god... Lydus!”
The sound of squelching mud filled the air as she rushed toward something.
Lydus’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled onto his stomach, following her line of sight. His blood ran cold.
Alex lay on the ground, his small body convulsing violently, his muscles twitching uncontrollably.
“No.” Lydus whispered in disbelief as he crawled through the mud toward his brother. Grime caked his hands and arms, embedding itself under his fingernails as he frantically moved closer.
Alex wasn’t crying. His face was pale, his eyes beginning to glaze over. A gaping wound stretched across his stomach, deep and jagged. Blood poured from the tear, but it wasn’t just blood—yellow bile and other fluids spilled out, his insides ruptured. His body convulsed again; the spasms uncontrollable.
Emmelia knelt beside him, trying desperately to hold him down, but it was useless. The blood loss was too severe, the wound far beyond any hope of healing.
“Alex—Alex...” Lydus’s voice cracked as he pressed a trembling hand to his brother’s cheek, his other hand trying to hold him still. “Come on... we have to...”
Alex’s body stilled for a moment, his eyes slowly turning toward Lydus. His lips parted, his voice barely a whisper. “I... I think I’m...” His breath rattled painfully in his chest, the words faltering as life drained from him.
Lydus clutched Alex's lifeless face, his eyes searching desperately for any sign of life as they faded to a dull, vacant stare. “Alex,” he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice breaking. His grip tightened on his brother’s face and arm, refusing to accept the truth. “Wake up... you motherfucker... wake up.”
Tears began to blur his vision, no longer held back. They mixed with the rain, dripping down onto Alex’s blood-soaked clothes. He had always tried to stay strong, but now, he was crumbling. The tears came freely, soaking into the remnants of his brother’s life.
The world around him seemed to deliquesce, colors bleeding together like wet paint on a canvas, or candle wax melting onto a wooden board. The sounds of the night—the distant battle, the cries of Emmelia—faded into a muffled hum, as though they no longer belonged to his reality. All Lydus could hear was the ragged sound of his own breath, the frantic beating of his heart pounding in his ears, threatening to tear from his chest.
This can’t be happening. It felt like some nightmarish fog that hadn’t lifted. This isn’t real. It’s just a bad dream. He had been so careful, so protective. He’d made a promise to his father to always look after Alex. He couldn’t have failed. He couldn’t have lost the only family he had left.
But as he held Alex’s limp body, reality crept in. Yet it still refused to fully settle. Lydus just sat there, frozen, staring at his brother’s face, willing the fluids to retreat back into his body, willing the wound to close itself, as if some unseen force would undo the nightmare. He wanted to believe it could all reverse itself in a blink, that the world would right its wrongs.
But Alex was gone, and as Emmelia pulled at Lydus to move, nothing would ever undo that.
ns 18.68.41.147da2
