That evening, for the first time in months, the seven were not drilled, beaten, or ordered into line. Commander Arthur Blackwell gave them one gift: a night of freedom.
"Celebrate," he told them. "You passed the test. Tomorrow, you march."
The campfires burned low as the seven gathered together. At first they only laughed nervous laughter, the kind that came after survival. They were children again for a heartbeat, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, telling clumsy jokes.
On one side, the three girls whispered among themselves. Ema, sharp and thoughtful, spoke about her future with calm precision.
"When the war is over, I'll build schools. People need to learn, not just fight."
Daria scoffed but smiled.
"I'll be a commander. I don't care how I'll rise through the ranks and make them remember my name."
Aria sat quietly, fingers folded. When pressed, she whispered,
"I just want to go home. Back to the fields. Back to quiet."
The boys nearby were louder. Thomas, steady as stone, spoke first.
"I'll find my family. If they're alive, I'll protect them. If they're gone, I'll build something new."
Edwin leaned back, smirking.
"I'll travel. When this madness ends, I'll walk into every city, every tavern, and live like a king until the money runs out."
Rowan, cold and distant, finally muttered,
"There will never be peace. So I'll carve my place in the war. Better to be feared than forgotten."
The children fell silent, turning to Zero.
He stared into the flames, face unreadable. Then he said the only truth he knew.
"I don't have dreams. Only this gun. That's all they gave me."
The others exchanged glances uneasy, but bound together. That night, they carved their names onto a wooden board, a "panel" to mark their bond. It was rough, childish, and uneven, but it was theirs: a promise of survival, a memory before the kingdom's truth would claim them.
Tomorrow, they would leave. Tonight, they were only children, dreaming of futures that war would try to steal.
The campfires flickered low as the children settled into their final night of freedom, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their plans hung in the air like a fragile dream a dream of peace, of survival, of what might come after the war.
But as the night deepened, the sharp sound of boots on gravel cut through the air. Commander Blackwell emerged from the shadows, his face unreadable.
"Gather up," he said, his voice hard.
The children stood at once, instantly recognizing the shift. The night that had begun with laughter and plans was now heavy with dread.
Commander Blackwell motioned to a fire near the back of the camp. As they walked toward it, the cold air seemed to tighten around them. The children sat in a circle, their faces drawn with concern.
Lady Gaga stepped forward beside Blackwell, her eyes narrowing. "You were told to celebrate," she said, her tone calm but chilling, "but there's a truth about this war, about your kingdom, that you all need to understand."
The fire crackled, casting long, twisted shadows.
Blackwell spoke next, his voice lower than usual, tinged with something close to regret. "Tomorrow, when you leave the kingdom, you will march to the front lines, but you will march with the weight of the truth."
He paused, eyes scanning the seven of them as if measuring how much of the world they could bear to know.
"The Naryan Kingdom…" he began, the words heavy in the cold air, "has already lost. The war isn't about winning anymore. It's about survival."
The children listened, their faces paling.
Blackwell continued, "We're not fighting for glory or honor. We're fighting because if we don't, we'll all be wiped off the map."
Lady Gaga added, her voice cutting through the silence: "The truth is, there is no end. No victory. The kingdoms are doomed. The Iron Kingdom is already planning its next war this one, this fight, is just a prelude."
Ema's voice trembled as she spoke. "But… we're the soldiers. We fight for our people, for the kingdom. That's why we're here."
The commander shook his head. "No. You fight because you were chosen. Because your kingdom has already given up. They need children like you to fight and die for their future."
Thomas' jaw clenched, but it was Edwin who spoke next. "Then why did we fight in that trial? Why did you make us believe we could win?"
"Because you needed to believe in something," Lady Gaga replied, voice harsh. "War is easier when you have something to fight for. But the truth is this: you are tools. You always were."
The campfire flickered, casting eerie shadows over the children's faces. Aria, usually quiet, spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "And if we die? If we fall?"
Blackwell's gaze softened, but only for a moment. "Then you die in the service of something bigger than you a kingdom that no longer knows how to save itself."
Zero, who had remained silent until now, looked down at his gun. His hand clenched around it, his fingers tight against the cold metal. He was a child. Just a child. And yet, they had given him this gun, told him this was his purpose.
The truth hung in the air a sharp, bitter thing.
The children were no longer just warriors in training. They were pawns, ready to be sacrificed in a war that never should have been fought.
The Night Before
That night, the seven sat by the fire, each of them reflecting on what they had been told. The promises of hope and future dreams from earlier seemed like distant echoes.
Daria, who had once been so sure of herself, was now staring into the flames. "I'll fight. But what if there's nothing left to fight for?"
Rowan's cold eyes turned toward her. "Then we fight because that's all we can do."
Ema remained silent, her mind turning over the commander's words, trying to find a shred of hope in them. Thomas clenched his fists, while Edwin's lips twisted into a bitter smile.
Aria, ever quiet, said nothing.
The fire crackled on, but their dreams had already been burned away.
Tomorrow, they would leave. Tomorrow, they would step into the chaos that lay beyond the gates of the kingdom.
And tomorrow, the war would begin not for victory, but for survival.
The sun rose on the morning they would leave. The camp was quiet, tense, but the entire kingdom buzzed with whispers. There was a strange energy in the air, a mix of fear, anger, and sorrow, as the people of Naryan gathered along the walls to witness the departure of the next generation of soldiers the children.
Families stood at the sidelines, parents, brothers, and sisters, watching in disbelief as the naryan Kingdom's soldiers led their children away. They shouted to them, some calling their names, others simply crying out, unable to stop the inevitable.
Edwin tried to lift the mood, as usual. He threw his shoulders back, grinning, and shouted over the noise, "Don't worry! We'll win this war! I'll be a hero! We'll show them what we're made of!"
But his words fell flat. His voice was lost in the chaotic mix of sorrow and fear that surrounded them. The parents were torn between pride and despair. Some even began to shout, "This isn't right! We're sacrificing our children!"
Zero stood among them, emotionless as usual. The noise, the people, the pleas, it meant nothing. His eyes were fixed on the distant horizon, as if numbing himself to the world. He wasn't a child anymore. He was a weapon, and weapons didn't feel.
As they marched through the gates, the people continued their protests, shouting words of anger and desperation. But none of it mattered the children were already soldiers in the eyes of the kingdom.
The Moment of Realization
Thomas stood alongside Daria, and their faces were grim. Daria, usually brimming with pride, was unnervingly quiet. She looked around at the faces of the parents, their empty eyes full of hopelessness. "Is this what it really means to be a soldier? To be forgotten, like this?" she whispered.
Thomas didn't answer. Instead, he clenched his fists tightly and walked faster.
Ema glanced over at Zero, his stone-cold expression still unmoving, and turned to Aria. The quiet girl hadn't spoken a word since the previous night, and now, her face was a mask of resolve.
"You know," Ema said softly, "sometimes I think we're not fighting for a kingdom anymore. We're fighting for nothing. But I guess that's just how it is."
Aria's soft voice finally broke the silence. "I don't think we're fighting at all. We're being sent to die."
Rowan passed by, overhearing the conversation. His lips curled into something almost like a sneer. "It doesn't matter. We'll survive. We'll kill, and we'll rise. But don't expect anyone to thank you when this is over."
The Public View
From a distance, the crowds of Naryan's citizens lined the streets as the children marched to the military camp, their faces shadowed by the dawning realization of what was happening. Some waved their hands in futile goodbyes, others remained silent, watching their futures their children march to the frontlines.
A man in the crowd, his face twisted in anger, shouted, "The kingdom has lost its soul! We're selling our youth to the war machine!"
A woman cried out to her son, her voice cracking, "Come back! Please, come back to us!"
But there were no answers. The children, trained and re-trained, looked ahead with one goal in mind: survival. The life they once knew was gone. The war would claim them whether they liked it or not.
The Final Step: The March Begins
The children finally crossed the boundary of the kingdom's gates, leaving behind the only life they had ever known. The cheers from the people outside sounded hollow in their ears, swallowed by the weight of the future ahead. No one spoke as they passed only the sound of their feet, the steady march of soldiers who had been forced into a future they didn't want.
Edwin's Final Speech
Edwin, always the optimist, broke the silence with a shout, "Come on! It's not the end! We're still alive! We'll make it! We'll show them what we're made of!"
But even as he spoke, Zero remained still, his expression unchanged. It wasn't hope he was feeling it was emptiness, the kind that had already swallowed his past. He was just a tool now. And like a tool, he had no use for dreams.
The Children Walked On
In the distance, the faint sound of music drifted through the air, signaling the start of the march. The naryan Kingdom soldiers at the rear gave one last look at the departing children, their faces unreadable. The march was no longer for victory it was for something painful
The children were already dead in the eyes of the kingdom. Now, they were just tools in a war that don't care if they were children