The first sight of Elthemar broke the silence of the march like a bell in a churchyard.
It rose out of the frost-bitten hills like something carved from bone — pale towers, ancient spires, and a broken aqueduct that arched into nothingness. Mist curled around its base. Even from miles out, Auren Varik could see the Gate of Irons, blackened from battles long past.
And yet, the banners of Dareth still flew from its walls. Royal purple, stitched with silver threads. Defiant. Unbowed.
Auren stood with Captain Rhoen atop a hill ridge just after dawn. The Volgrin army had spread out into formation along the slope — nearly 3,000 strong. Siege engineers were already unloading timber and iron near the rear, preparing to raise tower skeletons.
"She's still beautiful," Rhoen said. "Even in this cold."
"She doesn't look like a city ready to break," Auren replied.
Rhoen looked at him, brow furrowed. "And yet, in three days, she will."
Inside Elthemar, the air was no warmer.
Governor Larian Avel stood in the central hall of the Old Library, which now served as a temporary command center. Books were pushed aside to make space for supply ledgers, troop maps, and wounded soldiers resting on old reading benches.
"The Volgrin camp stretches across the western ridgeline," reported a city scout. "Their engineers have begun bracing siege towers. No catapults yet, but soon."
Larian ran a hand through his gray hair and exhaled. He was a scholar by blood, not a warrior — once a teacher of Dareth law, now the reluctant leader of a city about to become kindling.
"How long do we have?" he asked.
"Three days," said his aide, a stern woman named Mira Tenvale. "Vellan's orders. Standard siege courtesy. She'll offer surrender. Then strike."
Larian turned to Commander Sen Haldrin, a veteran from the eastern border, his face marked by old burns.
"Would you surrender?" Larian asked.
Sen didn't blink. "I've never surrendered anything worth defending."
"And our people?" Larian asked. "The winter stores are low. We have wounded. Children."
"Then we hold them underground," Sen said. "We've prepared for this."
Larian stepped to the window and stared at the smoke beginning to rise in the hills. He thought about the hidden tunnel network below the city, the old merchant roads sealed decades ago. The letter from Dareth command had confirmed that food and medicine would arrive within days through those tunnels.
But if Volgrin found the tunnels… Elthemar would fall faster than anyone could speak.
He pressed a hand to the cold glass and whispered, "We're running out of time."
Back at the Volgrin camp, Auren Varik paced outside the command tent, watching the sky turn pink with cold light. The courier scribe, Veren, had remained silent, bound and under guard. But Auren had questions.
That evening, he returned to Veren's tent.
The scribe looked up as Auren entered. He wasn't afraid anymore — just resigned.
"They'll never surrender," Veren said, unprompted.
"You're sure?"
"They've stockpiled medicine. There are tunnels under the city. They think they can hold out until Dareth sends reinforcements."
Auren frowned. "They're risking thousands of lives."
"And so are you," Veren replied. "Or do you think your siege will be clean?"
Silence.
Then Auren asked, "What would make them surrender?"
Veren tilted his head. "Something they can't ignore."
The next day, Auren brought the tunnel map to Captain Rhoen and Lieutenant Drea Vael. They studied it in grim silence.
"If we find the entrance and collapse the passage, their bluff ends," Drea said. "The siege will break them within a week."
Rhoen nodded. "We don't need to storm the gates if they're starving in the dark."
Auren hesitated. "Or we send a warning."
Drea turned sharply. "To the city?"
Auren nodded. "We let them know we have the map. Give them the choice. Surrender… or face the collapse."
"They'll call it a bluff."
"Then they won't," Auren said. "But we give them one last chance. There are still innocents in there."
Drea's eyes narrowed. "This isn't a charity, Varik. We don't bargain with liars. We dismantle them."
Auren met her glare. "Then do it without me."
The air grew still.
Rhoen raised a hand. "Enough. We'll send an anonymous courier. No seal. No threats. Just… the truth."
Drea looked disgusted. But she didn't object.
That night, a single parchment was delivered to the guards outside Elthemar's west gate by a cloaked rider who vanished before pursuit.
The message was brief:
We know of the tunnels. Collapse is coming. This is your chance to preserve life. Choose wisely.
Governor Larian read it twice.
Then he sat down at the long table in the war room and buried his face in his hands.
"We're out of time," Mira said quietly.
Larian looked at her. "I've never seen war like this."
"This is what war looks like when both sides think they're right."
Back in the Volgrin camp, Auren returned to the forge — not for orders, but for silence. He heated a dull blade, not for killing, but to sharpen something inside himself. Every strike against the anvil echoed his doubt, his grief, and the slow fire in his blood that said this cannot be the only way.
Tessan found him there.
"I heard what you did," the boy said. "Sending the warning."
Auren didn't stop hammering.
"You think it'll make a difference?" Tessan asked.
Auren shook his head. "I don't know."
Tessan stepped forward. "If they surrender… will the killing stop?"
"No," Auren said. "But maybe… it won't get worse."
In a cold chamber below Elthemar, Governor Larian stood at the edge of the central tunnel, staring into the dark where the runners had disappeared hours earlier.
"Do we collapse it?" Mira asked behind him.
Larian was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "Not yet."
She frowned. "Why?"
He looked back at her.
"Because someone on the outside still thinks there's another way. And for now, that has to be enough."