Author's Note: Thank you so much for 37k views! Knowing that so many of you are following this journey truly motivates me to keep writing. I'm genuinely grateful for all the support. Now… enjoy the chapter!
The fissure in the mountain remained open, stabilized by Kaelir's magic.
The passage ended in a narrow clearing, where the crawling mist hid the ground and smothered every sound — only the rhythmic footsteps of the army echoed as they crossed the portal.
And as they advanced, the world around them felt… wrong.
No bird sang.
The forest seemed to hold its breath with them.
The soldiers who crossed first formed two parallel lines, opening a corridor in disciplined silence.
Spears aligned, shields rose, and everyone stayed still, breathing together, like a single body.
Kaelir stood before them.
Motionless.
Impeccable military posture.
The entirely black clothing fell straight, fastened by a tactical belt.
Two daggers rested at his waist, one on each side, identical, perfectly aligned.
He watched the fissure with his chin raised, expression neutral, waiting.
The portal pulsed.
Karna emerged first — mounted, serious for the first time in days, even if his eyes still held that restless glint.
Right behind came Éon, imposing, his heavy cloak shifting with the wind carried from the East.
And then she crossed.
Brianna.
Mounted on an immaculate white horse, its luminous mane cutting through the fog.
She advanced slowly, unhurried, not once looking away from Kaelir until she stopped directly in front of him.
The corridor of soldiers held firm behind her; the rest of the army emerged through the passage, filling the world with steel and controlled breath.
Kaelir inclined his head — vertical, precise — a clear gesture of military respect.
Brianna gave a faint smile, the kind she used when analyzing someone and already knowing the answer before asking the question.
"Did you discover anything in these last few days?"
Kaelir lifted his face again, direct, voice low and steady:
"Yes, Ma'am."
His posture didn't change, but the air around him felt heavier — as if the words weighed more than steel.
"I advanced up to three villages to the north," Kaelir said. "All of them were empty."
Brianna narrowed her gaze.
"Empty as in… abandoned?"
Kaelir shook his head once.
"No. Empty as in… erased. No bodies. No blood. No signs of struggle. No trail of escape."
Éon, still mounted, leaned forward.
"Nothing? Not tools, not animals?"
"Nothing," Kaelir answered. "Doors open, meals served, fire still warm in a hearth. But no human presence. As if everyone had been torn from the place all at once."
Karna let out a heavy snort through his nose, brow furrowed.
"That's not normal. Not even for them."
Kaelir continued:
"The roads are intact, the wells clean, the wagons aligned. There's no destruction. No footprints. Just… silence."
Silence pressed down on all of them, thick, uncomfortable.
Brianna took a slow breath, adjusting the reins of the white horse.
"The Eastern Kingdom doesn't just vanish with three villages without leaving traces." She lifted her chin, gaze sharp. "Something's wrong here… and it can only mean they already know we're coming."
Karna leaned forward in the saddle, his voice carrying a rare severity.
"Makes sense. When we were attacked, they also knew our route. They advanced only when the night was about to fall… as if they were waiting for that exact moment."
The restrained murmur of the army behind them seemed to hold its breath.
Kaelir kept his rigid posture, eyes fixed on some distant point.
"I agree," he said, firm. "And this is just the beginning."
The tension in the air became too heavy to ignore.
Brianna pulled the reins, turned her horse toward the army, and her voice cut the silence like a blade:
"Formation with no blind spots! Now!"
The soldiers reacted instantly — quick steps, metal clashing, ranks adjusting.
Éon turned his face to Karna.
Karna exhaled before issuing orders with absolute clarity:
"Iaso, Lys, Ryden, Neriah — cross formation!"
"You four move ahead and clear the quadrants."
"Zeph, you're in the center. I want every sign passing through you."
He raised his hand, fingers drawing precise commands in the air.
"No sound. Only gestures."
"Iaso, north."
"Lys, west."
"Ryden, east."
"Neriah, south."
Karna's gaze narrowed, now in absolute focus.
"Zeph… hold the flow. Read everything that comes from them."
"Move."
The four departed immediately — silent, coordinated, each taking their direction.
Zeph remained at the center, his light aura expanding like invisible threads around the troop.
Brianna turned her head, facing Karna.
He looked at her for a second — only one — before turning fully to the hundred and fifty soldiers behind him.
His voice projected strong, firm, leaving no room for hesitation:
"Shield vanguard, to the front! Open the corridor!"
"First line of spearmen, behind the shields!"
"Second line, keep pressure and cover the flanks!"
"Archers, central position — high cover!"
"Rear guard, close the column and stay alert!"
The orders spread like physical impact.
Shields advanced.
Spears aligned.
Bows rose.
The rear guard sealed shut like a living wall.
At the center, Zeph drew a deep breath and opened his eyes — focused, ready to catch every signal from the four scouts.
And then…
The formation advanced like a single organism — firm steps, measured breaths, each line adjusting to Zeph's slightest indication.
The Eastern Kingdom remained silent.
A silence that was not empty.
It was preparation.
And as Brianna, Éon, and Karna led their troops through the forest, on the other side of the walls, something was already moving.
Something that needed no trumpets.
No marches.
No footsteps.
Darkness was not the absence of light.
It was presence.
A hall so vast that even echoes seemed afraid to exist there.
The only thing visible — at first — was a pair of red eyes, intense, motionless, burning in the center of the darkness like living embers.
They belonged to the leader.
His voice came out low, but firm.
Almost a genetic command.
"Specter."
Far to the right, two heterochromatic eyes opened — left one blazing gold, right one ice-blue.
Their light revealed just enough to suggest a distorted outline, elongated too far to be human.
Silence.
The leader continued.
"Executioner."
Another pair of eyes opened higher up, as if attached to the ceiling.
Golden, intense, incandescent like freshly forged blades.
Something shifted with a dry crack.
The central shadow did not hesitate.
"Reaper."
To the left, closer to the ground, another heterochromatic pair glowed — right red, left black.
A dragging, heavy breath, almost animal.
"Black Fury."
Farther back, honey-colored eyes — calm, far too calm for the room — blinked slowly.
A metallic tremor echoed behind them — chains? Weapons?
"Pixy."
A pair of bright pink eyes, almost neon, lit up like an excited child in a body that should not exist.
A muffled giggle vibrated in the dark.
"Tormentor."
Finally, the bright blue eyes appeared — cold, calculated, absolutely relentless.
All the pairs stayed lit for a few seconds.
Only eyes.
No bodies.
No shape.
No sound beyond the subtle breathing of whatever inhabited the hall.
The leader raised his face — the red pulsed once.
From deep within the darkness, white eyes opened — they did not shine, they did not burn, they simply… existed.
Coldly.
Patiently.
Like predators who never need to prove their strength.
The leader tilted his chin slightly.
"White Viper."
The white eyes didn't move.
They simply waited.
The leader's voice came out low, precise:
"Speak."
Silence folded.
And then, the darkness answered.
It didn't sound like a voice.
It sounded like something sliding across the ground, climbing the walls, coming from every angle — a whisper that did not belong to any throat:
"As I foretold… the enemy army has arrived."
"On the exact date."
The words spread like poison, filling the hall.
She continued — always she, only she — with the calm of someone who had already seen the future and feared none of its paths:
"I have prepared a special gift for my dear daughter."
The shadows around them trembled.
Not as an effect.
But by instinct.
"Even if they survive…"
The whisper sharpened, becoming an icy blade.
"Their losses will be immeasurable before they reach the walls."
For an instant, all the eyes in the darkness glowed brighter, as if fangs were awakening at the same time — a predatory reflex igniting in the black.
"Prepare to hunt."
The leader's red eyes flickered once.
And everything went dark.