The moment Ryker's words settled, all eight women turned toward the queen, searching her face for guidance. Her violet eyes were empty, as if her very soul had slipped away.
One minute crawled by. Then four. Then ten. The silence pressed down like stone until Ava finally broke it."My queen… why don't we move our people before they arrive?"
The queen's hollow gaze shifted to Ryker. Her voice was low and cold."You speak of tall people and goblins… Tell me, barbarian, where did you see them?"
Ryker straightened. His brown eyes were steady."On my second day of travel I found traces of a large group moving toward this village. I followed their signs. The ground told me everything."
The queen narrowed her eyes."And what did the ground tell you?"
Ryker's jaw tightened."Goblins, yes. But not only them. I saw footprints of the tall ones—fresh and deep. Each could swallow a child whole. They march together, long-ear. In less than two moons they'll be at your gates."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Women pressed trembling hands to their mouths. Olivia whispered,"Giants and goblins together? That's… impossible."
"No," Ryker said, flat and unyielding. "I saw it with my own eyes. The earth does not lie. Stay here, and your tribe will be bones before the moon wanes twice."
A flicker of life returned to the queen's violet eyes. She leaned forward. Her voice cut like a blade."If what you say is true… then why come here, barbarian? Why warn us at all?"
"I have told you—my leader sent me here, and I saw the tall people and the goblins," Ryker replied, eyes never leaving hers. His voice was worn. Travel had carved it thin.
The queen's gaze sharpened."Name him. Tell me your leader's name."
"His name is Demos," Ryker said without hesitation. "Demos S. Sparta. He did not send me to fight. He sent me to speak—to invite you to share what we killed and to talk."
The name rolled through the chamber. Faces paled. Others tightened. Murmurs rose like wind through dead leaves. The queen's knuckles whitened on the arm of her chair. S. Sparta. The name sat there—an omen.
"Why should we believe you, barbarian?" Isabella spat. "You walk in unbound and expect our trust with a name and a tale."
Ryker met her stare."Because the earth does not lie. Outside your gate—the east path beneath the low pines—I saw their prints. Massive. Recent. Goblin patrols move with them. If you doubt me, send scouts. Two moons is not long."
The queen closed her eyes for a heartbeat, then opened them. Resolve carved the hollow set of her face."Give him back his food and water. If he speaks truly, we will know soon enough." She called into the dim:"Olivia, Amelia—take two riders. Go to the east pines at dusk. Move quietly. Report back if the earth speaks the same lies he claims."
Olivia and Amelia bowed and slipped away like shadows across rotten boards.
The queen watched the doorway until it swallowed them. When she turned back, the violet in her eyes was fuller. Colder."If these prints lie," she said softly, "then we will kill him and that leader of his. If they tell the truth, we must decide whether to leave or stay and fight a losing battle."
Ryker did not bow. Not once."I did not come to win your trust with words, long-ear queen. I came to offer an invitation."
The chamber smelled of smoke, pine, and fear. Outside, wind whispered through the trees. Movement—threat or chance—could not be read.
"You speak of an invitation," the queen said slowly. "Explain yourself, barbarian. Why would Demos S. Sparta extend such a thing to my people?"
Ryker's gaze did not waver."He respects strength. He is doing this for his people—so they can reunite and survive. He does not send children and women to bleed when they could be home. He is not offering you a choice—to prepare, to learn what lies beyond your gates—he is calling his people to come home."
"What do you mean by 'his people'?" all six women asked in unison.
Silence. They stared at Ryker until he spoke. "Not one of us in the tribe understand what he said fully, but the moment you heard his name; you felt it too."
All six women and the queen exchanged looks. Recognition passed between them. They nodded. Then, together, they asked:"So… what was that?"
"I can't tell you," Ryker said, low and steady, "because I don't fully understand it myself. And I will not say what I was asked not to. But I ask now—will you accept his invitation or stay and wait for the goblins and the tall people to attack?"
The chamber froze. The queen's violet eyes swept the faces before her. Fear, hesitation, a faint glimmer of understanding. She straightened. Her voice was regal and edged with steel."We do not take threats lightly. But neither do we ignore survival. If what you say is true… Demos S. Sparta's invitation may be our only protection."
The women shifted. Some nodded. Some bit their lips.
Ryker remained still. "The choice is yours, long-ear queen. Choose wisely. Two moons and they'll be here."
A heavy breath escaped the queen. She looked toward the door where Olivia and Amelia had gone, then back at Ryker."Very well. We will accept your leader's invitation. But know this—if his people bring harm instead of help, we will try and kill you and your leader."
Ryker inclined his head. "I do not ask for trust. Only vigilance. The earth will reveal the truth. Be ready."
A murmur ran through the women. The air charged with a new weight.
The queen rose, a silhouette in dim light. "Prepare my people. Give the remaining food to the old and the young. Arm all the warriors. Stop training—tell my people to gather what they can carry. We begin the migration. Keep fifty warriors to watch the east path beneath the low pines. Every movement will be noted."
"But my queen," Ava said, "what if it's a lie and they are working with the giants?"
The queen turned to her. "Then we will simply kill them all."
Ryker's brown eyes followed her, unwavering."Then your people will have to leave this village the moment those scouts return to confirm my words. That is all I ask."
The doorway slammed open. Olivia and Amelia burst in, breathless, faces streaked with dirt and fear. The queen's name tore from Olivia's throat like a blade. "My queen—" she gasped, and every head in the room snapped toward them. "He is telling the truth. The giants will be here in one day. Please—what will we do?"
The chamber froze. The words struck harder than steel. One day. Not two moons. One day.
The queen's violet eyes widened for the first time, then hardened into ice. She rose from her chair, her voice ringing out like a war drum."Then there is no time for doubt. Gather the children, the old, the sick—move them first. Warriors, arm yourselves. We march before the sun rises again."
The eight women looked at each other, fear battling against duty. Ava clutched her chest. "But my queen… we cannot move everyone so quickly. We will leave supplies, homes—"
"Supplies can be taken. Homes can be rebuilt," the queen snapped, her voice sharp as an arrow. "But lives, once lost, cannot."
Ryker stepped forward, his shadow long in the firelight. "She is right. If you linger, your dead will outnumber your living before dawn."
The queen's gaze locked with his, searching for a crack, a hint of deceit—but found none. Slowly, she nodded."Very well. We will accept this invitation. But understand, barbarian, if your leader betrays us—if even a single life is lost by his trickery—I will see your head on a spear."
Ryker bowed his head slightly, his voice calm, almost solemn."Then I pray you keep your spear sharp. For I fear you will need it long before you use it on me."
A heavy silence followed. Then the queen lifted her chin."Ava, Isabella—sound the horns. Every clan, every family. Tell them: the time of migration has come."
The women scattered, their hurried footsteps echoing like thunder through the hollow treehouse. Outside, the deep boom of horns rolled into the night, calling the tribe to move.
Ryker remained where he stood, watching the queen. She stood tall, her violet eyes glowing in the dim firelight—not hollow now, but burning with a fierce, unyielding resolve.
Tomorrow," she whispered, almost to herself, "Sparta's name will walk with us again… hmmm. Why did I think that just now?"
None answered. The words lingered, heavy and strange, as if the air itself carried meaning that none could see. Ryker said nothing, but his eyes flickered—he had felt it too.
Then the horns blared again, shaking the silence. A low, throbbing call that reached every corner of the village.
Chaos followed.
Children cried as mothers lifted them onto their backs. Warriors barked orders, voices sharp as steel. Men and women alike rushed through the treehouse corridors, gathering bundles of food, furs, and weapons. The floorboards shook with hurried feet, the air thick with smoke from torches lit too fast, too many.
Ava and Isabella moved like shadows among them, shouting commands with the authority of the queen herself. "Leave what you cannot carry! Take only what feeds you, what arms you! No one lags behind!"
The queen strode into the storm of movement, her violet eyes cutting through panic like a blade. She raised her voice, and even through the noise, it carried."We leave this night! By dawn, not one of us remains in this place. Warriors—you form the shield around our people. Old and young in the center. Fifty will hold the east path until the last child has crossed. If they fall, we carry their memory forward, not their bodies!"
Her words struck deep. Fear remained, but now it was laced with purpose.
Ryker stood near the great ladder leading down from the treehouse, watching as the tribe poured into motion. His brown eyes swept the chaos—faces pale, arms loaded, warriors strapping blades to their sides. For the first time, he saw not just fear, but the stirring of something stronger.
Resolve.
The first families descended, ropes creaking under their weight. Torches flared below, their light catching the sharp edges of spears. The night forest waited, whispering, restless.
Beside him, the queen paused, her eyes on her people. Her voice was low, almost a growl."We walk into uncertainty. If your Demos speaks true, then perhaps there is hope. But if he lies…"
Ryker's reply was steady, unshaken."Then you will kill us both. But not before the giants and goblins take their fill of you. I speak no lies, long-ear queen. The ground told me, and the ground does not lie."
The queen's jaw clenched. She looked away, down at her people spilling into the dark."Then may the ground favor us tonight."
The horns called again, long and deep. The migration had begun.
The horns faded into the night, their echoes swallowed by the forest. Step by step, the village emptied. Rope ladders groaned as the last families descended from the treehouse dwellings, carrying what little they could. Behind them, warriors hacked down the ladders and cut the bindings, leaving nothing for the enemy but abandoned wood and ash.
The tribe moved as one—hundreds of feet pressing into the damp earth, torches bobbing like fireflies swallowed by the dark. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and smoke, and the forest seemed to close in around them, whispering with every shifting branch.
Children whimpered softly, their cries quickly hushed. The old leaned on the strong. Every warrior walked with a hand on their weapon, eyes sharp, ears straining for sounds beyond the crack of twigs and the rustle of leaves.
At the center walked the queen, her violet eyes fixed ahead, cold and steady. To her left was Isabella, blade drawn. To her right strode Ava, bow in hand, arrow nocked though no target yet revealed itself.
Ryker moved with the outer shield, his gaze sweeping the tree line, every muscle tense. Though he looked calm, inside he counted the seconds, each one a drumbeat closer to what stalked them.
Behind them, the abandoned village loomed like a skeleton against the night sky. Fires had been lit in its hollows, set deliberately to burn the place to the ground. Sparks rose high, carried on the wind, a funeral pyre for their home.
They walked for hours. The moon climbed, then began its slow fall. No one spoke more than necessary. The weight of silence pressed on them, broken only by the crunch of leaves and the distant calls of night-creatures.
Then—
A horn. Faint. Distant. From the east.
The column froze. Fear rippled through the people like a shiver through the spine. Mothers clutched their children tighter. Warriors raised their weapons. The queen's hand shot up, commanding silence.
Another horn. Closer this time. Deep. Heavy. The sound of giants.
The queen's voice cut the air, sharp as steel."Move faster. Do not falter. Fifty warriors hold the rear—no more, no less. The rest push forward."
Ryker's hand tightened around his spear. His eyes caught the queen's across the flickering torchlight."They've found your trail," he said grimly. "The ground will shake before dawn."
The queen gave a single nod, her face carved from stone."Then we will not stop until dawn. And if Sparta's name truly walks with us again… may it carry us through the night."
The tribe surged forward, the horns of giants echoing behind them. The migration had turned into a race against time.
The night swallowed their breath as the tribe pushed harder, torches snuffed one by one to keep from betraying their path. Darkness became their cloak, but it also became their enemy. Roots tore at ankles, branches lashed at faces, and children stumbled in the rush. Still, no one dared stop.
Behind them, the horns grew louder. Then came the drums.
Boom. Boom. Boom.Each beat shook the ground like thunder, announcing the march of something massive. The forest itself seemed to shiver with every step of what followed.
"They're running us down," Ryker muttered, teeth clenched. His knuckles whitened on the shaft of his spear.
The queen's eyes narrowed. She lifted her hand high, signaling again. Warriors peeled off from the column, forming a living shield at the rear. Fifty men and women, steel flashing faintly in the dark. Their orders were unspoken—buy time with blood.
The children were carried now, wrapped tight against their mothers' chests. Elders leaned on strong arms, their feet barely touching the soil as younger warriors half-dragged, half-lifted them. No one slowed. No one dared.
Then, through the trees, shadows moved.
The first goblins broke from the tree line with snarls, their green skin gleaming under the faint moonlight. They were swift, darting low with blades glinting in their clawed hands.
The rearguard met them in silence. Steel hissed, flesh split, and the air filled with wet screams.
"Hold the line!" Ryker roared, planting his spear through a goblin's throat. Blood sprayed across his chest, hot and slick. Another leapt at him, dagger raised, but Isabella's sword split it clean in half before it touched him.
And still—the ground trembled.
The drums grew louder. Closer. Then, from the dark, the first giant's roar split the night.
Trees cracked like kindling as something enormous forced its way through the forest. A silhouette rose against the moon—towering, broad, its skin the color of stone. Its eyes glowed faintly, like embers stoked by hatred.
The people cried out, terror breaking through discipline for the first time. Children wailed. Even the warriors faltered.
The queen did not. She raised her voice above the chaos, cold and commanding.
"Faster! Do not look back!"
The tribe surged ahead, hearts hammering, legs burning. Behind them, warriors screamed as the first giant's foot came down, crushing men and goblins alike into the earth.
The night had become a battlefield.
And the migration—now a fight for survival.
The forest was chaos now. Goblins swarmed from every side, their screeches piercing through the night. The rearguard held, but each clash pushed them further back, their numbers bleeding away with every heartbeat.
Then the ground shook harder.
A giant's shadow tore through the trees—its roar a storm of rage. Its hand, the size of a cart, swung down and smashed three warriors into pulp. The sound of breaking bones echoed like thunder, followed by screams cut short.
"Fall back! FALL BACK!" Ryker's voice cracked as he tried to rally the survivors, but it was too late. one giant was already there, and the goblins poured in like a flood.
Children screamed. Mothers wept. Warriors fought with everything they had, but their blades barely scratched the titan. The queen herself stood tall in the middle of the fleeing column, her violet eyes blazing even as fear clawed at the hearts around her.
Still, the end pressed in. The people stumbled, their breaths ragged, their bodies failing. The drums pounded louder, closer, until it felt as if the very air was breaking beneath the rhythm.
And then—
The sky ripped open in light.
A single bolt of lightning split the night sky, not soft and blue, but violent—white and violet, blinding. It struck with a sound like the heavens shattering, a crack that silenced goblins, froze giants, and blinded even the queen herself.
For one impossible heartbeat, the battlefield was lit brighter than day.
The shadows vanished. The monsters reeled back. And in the chaos of the brilliance, the people's despair was swallowed whole.
The lightning lingered, not fading as a storm's strike should, but spreading — crawling like veins of fire across the heavens. Violet arcs cracked through the trees, scorching goblins where they stood, blasting the giant back on it's back. The very air smelled of burning iron.
Then, from the heart of the storm, a voice rolled like thunder.
"ENOUGH."