After the speech, I retreated to the command tower like a queen with stage fright. I avoided Lola’s eyes like they were trapped, because they were. And I definitely didn’t look at the scrolls multiplying on my desk like paper-based rabbits. Every fifteen minutes, there were more. I suspected some were breeding.

  “The hour is up,” Mila said, voice low, like a judge about to hand down a sentence. He stood by the wide window, his silhouette stark against the light. His gaze scanned the horizon, and though the demon army hadn’t moved a step, it felt closer.

  Oppressively close. Like the silence before a landslide.

  I glanced toward the river. Nothing. A curtain of fog rolled over it, thick and unmoving, smothering the eastern flank like a secret. We’d sent scouts to pierce the veil, but they’d gone quiet. Too quiet. All we got was a single word: movement—before silence swallowed them whole.

  “They’re moving,” Lola confirmed, fingers trembling just slightly as she traced symbols on the map. “Toward the river. But we’ve lost contact with the forward team.”

  I grimaced. “Anything useful?”

  “No. Just that they’re fast. And not subtle.”

  Great.

  “Everyone is ready,” she continued, flipping through system reports like a woman possessed. “Except Fuzuki. She’s… in the toilet. Allegedly. But I think that was a euphemism. A very unwanted euphemism.”

  I winced. “We’ll deal with her later. What about Socks?”

  Lola’s hands stilled. She peeked at me over her stack of parchment, eyes glassy with suppressed rage. “They’re… ready. Lunaris is vibrating. She actually said, and I quote, ‘death is just a cooldown.’ Gatei hyped her so much she’s practically a martyr with sparkle effects.”

  I barely had time to groan when a shout pierced the air. “Contact! Lisa’s group!” one of the clerks called from the river window, voice full of adrenaline.

  I rushed to the overlook, but the fog was still there, thick as soup, cruel as silence. I couldn’t see the river, but I felt the clash. A bloom of fire lit up the mist, brief and bright. Lisa’s spells. Her new flare spell, wild and brilliant.

  Then another voice. “Movement! Frozna’s tower, zone two!”

  I spun, eyes darting to the next vantage point. A red flare blinked from a distant tower. Danger. “It’s fine,” Mila muttered, mostly to himself. He adjusted a few markers on the map with slow, deliberate movements. “This is within parameters. Zone two’s fallback is stronger.”

  Another flare burst into the sky.

  “Second red light!” Lola shouted this time, her calm finally cracking.

  “What’s happening?” I hissed, already moving. My gaze flicked between the map and the windows, the terrain shifting in my mind.

  Mila’s hands stilled over the map. “They feinted. River was bait.” His voice was tight now. Controlled. But worried.

  “Redirect Lisa’s group!” I ordered, my heart thudding. “She’s mobile. Get her upstream!”

  Too slow. I saw it. From the tower’s eastern window, just for a second, a pulse of black light shimmered in the fog.

  No fire. No shadow.

  Death.

  A signal for imminent loss. Catastrophic breach.

  The room snapped into panic.

  Clerks shouted over each other. Names, locations, retreat paths. Ideas. Questions. Too many. Mila tried to regain control, but even he looked like he was second-guessing the map. It was moving too fast.

  “I didn’t expect them to hit zone two first,” Mila muttered, teeth clenched. “They’re not just charging, they’re coordinating.”

  I turned back to the interface, flipping through team logs, and…

  Frozna’s name faded.

  Dimmed.

  Gone.

  She was dead.

  I felt the cold settle in my gut like a stone dropped through water. Not a random casualty. Not a lost skirmish.

  A blow.

  They weren’t testing our defenses; they were dismantling them. And the proper fight hadn’t even started yet.

  “I’m going,” I said, already moving toward the window, the glass catching just enough light to reflect my own panicked face back at me.

  Before I could leap, Lola caught my hand.

  Her grip was soft in contrast to the rising chaos around us. I turned, expecting another wave of logistics or strategy, but her eyes were wide, glassy, and her cheeks were flushed with something deeper than stress. “Lady,” she said, voice urgent. “That’s exactly what Dmitry wants. He knew you’d go if Ian was there. Why do you think we even knew these two are going to strike that flank?”

  Her words hit like a slap through the fog. “He wants me to commit,” I said through clenched teeth. “And he’s forcing my hand. We can’t afford the riverfront to fall—”

  “We won’t,” Mila cut in, already adjusting unit markers. His fingers danced across the updated battlefield like a conductor rewriting a symphony mid-performance. “Send Lunaris. She’ll go in with the primary rogue backup squad. Scamantha slows them down, Lisa holds them, Lunaris ends it. We need to pull reserves from the main front. From the wall.” We all gulped, because that was the worse-case scenario. “They’ll hate us.”

  The plan made sense. But… “It’s Ian,” I said, quieter this time. “I need to know why. Why he’s…”

  “Frozna died,” Lola interrupted, tightening her hold like she could secure me in place. “But she bought us time. She knew the risk. Don’t let that sacrifice be wasted.”

  My heart thudded in my chest, angry and hollow, but her words settled the storm for just a second. Just long enough to exhale. “I’ll go,” I muttered. “To tell Lunaris in person.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Lola’s grip loosened, but her eyes stayed locked on mine, unwilling to look away until I did.

  Then I turned and jumped.

  Wind slapped my face as I fell, cold and clean. Ice bloomed beneath my heels, forming a spiraling path as I descended in an extreme arc down the side of the tower. The magic thrummed through my nerves, responding before I even thought; creating, adjusting, steering.

  Normally, I might’ve enjoyed the rush, the thrill of slicing through air like a falling bottle, surfing curves of frost like Roberto drifting corners in his absurd car.

  But this time? No joy. Only speed.

  I hit the ground and never stopped; the speed carrying me as I shot across the courtyard toward the forward rally. The world blurred at the edges, stone walls, flags whipping in the wind, soldiers parting in awe or panic as I streaked past.

  “Lunaris!” I shouted, twisting the ice beneath me into a tight loop to bleed off speed before landing in a clean, icy skid right beside her.

  The air hissed with frost as I came to a stop. Her armor glinted in the light, both swords still sheathed, but her hands hovered near the hilts like they were seconds from leaping free.

  “Change of plans,” I said, breath curling in the now cool air as I offered her a crooked smile. “I need you at the river.”

  She blinked. “But—” Her gaze flicked toward the front lines, where Gatei and his glorious lunatics were gathering like a firework waiting for a match. “I said at the ceremony I’d fight for Eeleim! For honor! For glory! I want to carve through the enemy like a Twir!” Her voice cracked just slightly, equal parts protest and longing.

  “I know,” I said gently, shaking my head, trying not to grimace at how many people would probably rather die than not be part of the cool charge. “But the enemy hit hard. Too hard. Frozna’s dead.”

  Lunaris flinched.

  “She bought us time with her life,” I continued, voice low but clear. “And the Lisa’s defenders? They’re not breaking. They’re holding the line tooth and nail. Inch by inch.” I gestured toward the Left Sock Division, still assembling with mad grins and half-baked slogans, and watched as realization flickered across Lunaris’ face. A shadow of fear, quickly buried under something hotter. Fiercer.

  “This is an important fight,” I said. “Not backup. Not boring. It’s glory, just of a different flavor. But if your heart’s set on the front charge, I’ll find someone else.”

  I rose to my full height, throwing one hand skyward, like I was calling fate itself down from the clouds. “But this is war, Lunaris. You’re ranked seventy-four. You’re strong. You are the cavalry that turns the tide, not decor on someone else’s parade. If you go now, you save the river.”

  Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes shimmered. Then she squared her shoulders, chin lifting, the fight flaring in her like a flare thrown into dry kindling. “I’m sorry!” she blurted. “I’ll go. I’ll save them. Please—let me go!”

  I exhaled, relief loosening my chest. “The rogue squad’s rallying south of the fort. You’re in charge. Lead them. Save the riverfront.”

  She nodded, once, and then she was gone, boots pounding against packed earth, dust trailing in her wake like the tail of a falling star.

  “She didn’t need much,” Gatei said beside me, his hand landing on my back. “If she’d hesitated, I would’ve spoken. Reminded her that every soul fights their own war. Even if it burns.”

  We stood in silence, watching the dust settle behind her.

  “She didn’t need the speech,” he added, voice softer now, almost fond. “She chose. That’s better.”

  I spun toward him, cloak flaring slightly from the motion. “Your stupid Sock Division just threw whiskey into our battle plans,” I snapped, hands flailing toward the growing disarray of gathered berserks.

  My pout was weaponized. I hoped he felt it.

  Gatei, of course, looked positively radiant with mischief. “Exactly!”

  “That’s not a compliment!” I crossed my arms like a barrier against further nonsense, leveling him with a glare that could melt steel. “They set part of the barracks on fire!”

  Gatei raised a dignified finger, as if about to deliver a philosophy lecture. “Minor fire.”

  “It exploded!”

  He blinked, face the picture of innocent gallantry. “A fiery learning opportunity.”

  “They tried to deep-fry a mana crystal, Gatei!”

  “And now,” he said with exaggerated patience, “they know not to. Valuable knowledge.”

  My eye twitched. “They brought a goat into the strategy tower.”

  Gatei tilted his head, genuinely confused. “You try holding morale without a goat.”

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Reopened it. “It bit the map!”

  He snapped his fingers, grinning. “Which revealed a hidden ink rune! The goat has instincts.”

  I stared at him like he’d sprouted antlers. “I am this close to disbanding the Sock Division.”

  Gatei gasped, scandalized, clutching his chest like I’d stabbed him in the feelings. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Oh, I would.”

  “You can’t just erase greatness!” he wailed, spinning theatrically. “They already got jackets!”

  “Jackets? You gave them jackets?!”

  He nodded solemnly, the weight of legacy in his posture. “With pockets. And little embroidered socks on the back.”

  I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Holy Nathan.”

  Gatei reached out and gave me a patronizing pat on my back, utterly pleased with himself. “You’re welcome.”

  “Just… charge when we ask, okay?” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “When. Not before. Not on a whim. Not because the wind whispered something exciting.”

  Gatei looked offended. His entire posture slumped like I’d asked him to die of boredom on command. “But spontaneity is half the devastation,” he muttered, making vague spiraling motions in the air. “You don’t surprise an army with timing.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  He groaned like a theatre kid denied stage time. “Ugh. Fine. But only because the tiny one said it nicely. And threatened to reprogram my lunch.”

  I blinked. “Lola?”

  He nodded, scowling like a god forced to do taxes. “She said, and I quote, ‘If you jump early, I will personally redirect all your snacks to the logistics tent and label them as rations.’”

  The earth rumbled beneath our feet—no, growled—a low, teeth-rattling vibration that rolled up through the stone like some buried beast shifting in its sleep.

  “Damn it, Gatei!” I snapped, already spinning toward him. “You held me here. I should’ve been in the tower!”

  He blinked at me with the calm of someone who had not caused this and was also not sorry it had happened. “Well,” he said, tone maddeningly sunny, “you were having such a moving conversation.”

  I gave him a glare so sharp it could’ve been classified as a siege weapon. “The ground is literally moving!”

  He tilted his head at the spiderweb of cracks snaking across the ground and beamed. “Yes, yes, it does that sometimes. Usually right before a great story starts.”

  I groaned like a storm-cloud and bolted, heels slamming against the stone as I ran for the wall. “You better not jump in early!” I shouted over my shoulder.

  “I’m waiting!” Gatei called after me, arms raised toward the sky like a misunderstood drunkard on trial. “Look at me! Patient! I should get a medal!” A fresh tremor rippled through the air, tiles rattling. Then, quieter, “Or at least a goat.”

  “Llama!” I shouted, cupping my hands to my mouth as I spotted him pacing atop the wall.

  He turned at the sound of his name, boots scraping softly against the stone as he walked along the parapet with all the grace of someone used to being in high places.

  His brow was drawn tight, a storm brewing just behind his eyes. “Exactly what I needed,” he called down, voice edged with restrained tension. “You pulled my backup squad. Order Five, the ones stationed to intercept if Order Seven failed. Why?”

  His tone wasn’t angry, not yet. But it held the weight of someone who’d spent the last hour trying to make puzzle pieces fit, only to find one missing.

  “Riverside fell!” I shouted up, the words bursting from my throat like they might outrun guilt. “I wanted to apologize in person, but—” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder toward the earth cracking. “Now I have to run!”

  His eyebrows rose slightly, and I caught the subtle shift in his stance. The frustration didn’t vanish, but it tempered. He gave a small curt nod, more acknowledgment than forgiveness. But I’d take it. It meant he got it.

  That I wasn’t just reshuffling for fun. I held his gaze a second longer, and then spun on my heel and took off, heels hitting stone in rapid rhythm as I darted back toward the storm that was about to break.

  The moment Lola started giving orders through the system, I knew I was out of time. No chance to reach the command tower.

  Mid-stride, I veered, sprinted toward the nearest building, some barracks, maybe a supply depot. I didn’t care. I vaulted up the side with the help of a conjured ledge of ice and landed on the sloped roof, breath already coming fast.

  No hesitation.

  I crouched, palm slammed down on the shingles. Ice bloomed beneath me in a spiral, crystal and frost rising in elegant arcs as I conjured a jagged spire, launching me skyward. I rode it like a lift made of winter; the wind tearing at my cloak as I climbed higher, higher, until I stood level with the command tower.

  From up here, the world opened. The demon army had closed the distance. A dark, seething tide of steel and rot and bone, now fully in range. The battle was no longer coming.

  It had arrived.