The sun rose through a veil of pale clouds, casting a silver glow across the snow-covered fields. It was quiet—too quiet.
Alaric sat atop the transport cart beside Jorin, both boys wrapped in thick cloaks as the caravan moved steadily toward Erenshade. The trees grew thinner, the snow deeper. The morning air bit at their skin despite the enchanted lining of their clothes.
"Didn't sleep much," Jorin said, his voice hoarse.
"Me neither," Alaric replied. "There was something out there last night."
Jorin turned to look at him, eyes wide. "You saw it too?"
Before Alaric could answer, Captain Virel rode up alongside the transport.
"Stay sharp," she called to the knights. "We're entering the border pass."
Up ahead, the trees thinned into a clearing where the remnants of a forward outpost stood—half-buried in snow. The buildings were partially burned, their beams blackened and brittle. The corpses of knights and villagers lay frozen, twisted in defensive postures. A ruined wardstone lay shattered at the center of the camp, its magical core pulsing dimly beneath the frost.
Lira looked away, lips pressed tightly.
"Why is it so quiet?" Malric whispered.
"They cleared this place," Alaric said. "Wiped it clean."
The group slowed briefly to investigate, then moved on. The main formation advanced in tense silence—defensive units at the front, offensive knights next, followed by the mage corps and the supply wagons. The children remained near the center of the column, guarded but watching everything.
Ambush in the Pines
The trees closed in again as the path narrowed between rocky ridges. Just as they passed through a bend, the air shifted.
A howl broke the silence.
Then another.
"CONTACT!" a voice shouted from the left flank.
Dozens of shadow beasts leapt from the treeline—four-limbed creatures with jet-black fur, glowing red eyes, and twisted antlers that pulsed with dark aura. They moved like wolves, but larger, corrupted by the Veil's touch.
The defensive line slammed shields down with a unified clang, forming a wall. Virel led them, her twin axes drawn.
"Hold formation! Mage corps, to the rear!"
The beasts crashed into the line. Steel met claw, aura pulsing through the snow. Some monsters tried to leap over the wall but were met midair by mages casting binding frost, light spears, and flame arcs.
One beast slipped past the formation, barreling toward a wagon.
"On the right!" Jorin yelled.
Before the beast reached them, a knight from the vanguard tackled it mid-stride, his shield flaring with blue light. They tumbled, and the knight drove his blade through the beast's neck.
Alaric could hardly breathe.
"Don't panic," Malric said, though his own hand trembled.
Lira, eyes sharp, had already drawn her staff. "There's another!"
A shadow beast came from the rear this time, flanking wide.
"Lira!" Jorin shouted as it lunged.
Without thinking, Lira slammed her staff down. A wave of earth magic surged upward, forming a jagged barrier that knocked the beast off its feet.
It rose—but before it could leap again, Captain Edran launched from the vanguard.
He moved like fire—fast and wild.
With a roar, he struck the beast with his glaive. Flames erupted along the blade, cleaving through the creature's thick hide. It screamed and fell, dissolving into smoke.
"Back to the trees!" one of the remaining beasts howled.
Their leader—a larger beast with armored plating of bone and three curved horns—roared from the ridge.
"Virel," Edran growled. "That one's mine."
"Go."
Edran sprinted up the slope, dodging claws and arrows of shadow energy launched by the monster. He called out an incantation—his glaive igniting with a ring of flame.
"Ashflame Reap!"
He leapt, spinning midair, and brought the glaive down in a flaming arc that bisected the creature's head.
A shockwave burst from the strike, knocking snow from nearby trees.
The remaining beasts scattered.
A few mages gave chase, but Tharyn's voice called them back.
"Let them go! We've drawn first blood. Save your strength."
Aftermath
Snow mixed with blood stained the ground. Knights moved among the fallen, checking for wounded.
"Minor injuries," Tharyn reported. "Four wounded, two exhausted mages. No deaths."
Lireya nodded. She had remained mounted the entire time, watching.
"Not bad," she said. "They're testing our line. Tomorrow it won't be scouts."
Back at the children's wagon, Lira knelt beside Jorin, who was pale and wide-eyed.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "I… I froze."
"You warned me. That counts."
Malric sat nearby, fist clenched. "I wanted to help. I hated just watching."
"You weren't ready," Alaric said, though his voice wavered. "None of us are."
He looked out at the scorched snow, and the men hauling away the monster's armored corpse.
"How do you fight things like that?"
"You don't fight them alone," came Lireya's voice. She approached the group, her expression serious. "You fight as a wall. As one force. That's what keeps people alive."
She knelt beside Alaric. "You did well. All of you. No panic. No mistakes."
Alaric nodded, unsure of what to say. The smell of burned flesh still clung to the air.
Echoes
That night, the camp remained on high alert. Wards were doubled. Knights took shifts in pairs.
The children lay close to the fire, silent.
Then, it came.
A roar—deep and thunderous, echoing through the mountains. It didn't sound like a beast.
It sounded like something older.
Something angry.
Snow fell from the trees. Horses stirred. Mages lifted their heads.
"That's not a normal monster," a knight whispered.
Lireya stood at the edge of the camp, eyes fixed on the distant peaks.
"It's Velkran," she said quietly.
Alaric sat up, heart pounding. The name rang in his ears like a promise—and a warning.