The night was heavy.
Not merely dark—but oppressive. The kind of darkness that pressed against the lungs and made every breath feel deliberate. The moon struck the mouth of the cave, yet it did not truly illuminate it; it only sharpened silhouettes, carving people into rigid shapes of silver and shadow. It turned them into moving outlines instead of human beings.
Nearly two hundred and fifty souls stood there.
Whispers drifted through the damp air. Suppressed sobs. Nervous glances. Entire lives compressed into rough cloth bags tied with shaking hands. What they could not carry, they left behind. What they left behind, they did not dare look at twice.
Boots scraped against stone. The sound echoed along the cavern walls and returned thinner, colder.
No one spoke loudly.
In the unknown darkness, even a raised voice felt like an invitation to death.
Lane lifted his pack and secured the strap tightly around his waist, testing the weight. He adjusted it once more, precise and controlled. He paused, scanning the crowd with a gaze that missed nothing.
Women were trying to wake their children gently.One child buried his face into his mother's shoulder, refusing to leave, fingers gripping fabric as if the cave itself might disappear without him.An old man looked back into the cave one last time, as though memorizing the stone walls that had sheltered him for decades. His lips moved silently—whether in prayer or farewell, no one could tell.
Lane's gaze hardened.
There was no room for emotion.
Sara and Gorn stood near the entrance. Moonlight divided their faces in half—one side pale silver, the other swallowed in shadow. They looked like figures carved from opposing elements.
Lane walked toward them, boots steady against stone.
"Is everything ready? Can we move?"
Sara answered calmly, though tension lived beneath her voice like a tightened wire.
"It's 2:25 at night. We leave in five minutes. We have a three-day journey ahead. We may encounter bandits on the road. Two hundred and fifty people migrating is not something that goes unnoticed. We will attract attention."
The air seemed to grow heavier after she spoke.
Three days.
Three days of exposed movement. Three days without walls. Three days without certainty.
Lane shifted his gaze from the crowd to the forest beyond. The trees stood like a dark wall, silent and waiting, their upper branches dissolving into night.
"Then we move only at night and avoid passing near villages. Or we divide into three groups and advance like caravans."
He took a slow breath, thinking through each variable as he spoke.
"I need at least seventy soldiers to clear the forest. It's massive. We must reach it before anyone else."
He paused, voice sharpening—not louder, but more defined.
"So you will move slowly. One hundred and seventy people. Twenty of them armed village guards. The rest women and children. You will march in intervals. Ten mounted riders will rotate between the gaps, checking on each group. If we do it this way… we can succeed."
Gorn clenched his jaw, muscles tightening beneath his beard.
"And if we run into a bandit army? We barely have soldiers to defend ourselves."
Sara stepped in without hesitation.
"Gorn is right. How do we deal with that?"
Wind slipped into the cave entrance, carrying the scent of cold earth and distant trees.
Lane lifted his hand to his chin. His fingers were cold.
His mind was burning.
If we move together, we can bypass the bandits easily. Edwick and I could hold them off. But once we reach the forest, we must clear it within a day. That will push us. There's another option… We pass through the SkyDrane territory, rent ships, and enter the forest from the bay behind it. It's safer… but it would cost time. And we don't have the money. We don't have the supplies.
The calculation ended where reality began.
When he finished speaking, silence settled like ash after a fire.
Then Edwick arrived, stepping in with that familiar ease that never quite matched the tension of the moment.
"Why is everyone looking so gloomy?"
Sara explained everything quickly. The plan was structured. Organized. Strategic.
But the logistics—and the threat of bandits—had been underestimated.
Edwick shrugged casually, as if they were discussing weather.
"So we've got that kind of problem? Then let's just get ourselves some kind of protection shield or something…"
Lane's head snapped toward him.
"What did you just say?"
"Get ourselves protection."
Lane stepped forward in two quick strides and grabbed Edwick by the shoulders. His grip was firm enough to command attention, not pain.
"No. The word after protection. What did you say?"
Edwick blinked.
"Lane… sometimes you're scary. I said protection shield."
Lane's eyes lit up.
His fist tightened.
"Yes. That's it. I've got an idea. We camouflage ourselves."
Gorn frowned.
"How exactly are we supposed to camouflage?"
Lane asked calmly,
"Who did we fight last?"
"We fought the Holy soldiers."
"And what happened to their armor and swords? Do you think they're still in the church? How did we not think of this?"
Recognition flashed across Sara's face. She clapped her hands once in realization.
"That's brilliant. If we camouflage like them, we'll keep the bandits away and protect ourselves at the same time. You're incredibly smart, Lane."
She hugged him impulsively, armor and leather pressing together.
Lane stiffened slightly but tried not to show embarrassment.
"UGH Sara, you're squeezing too hard. You're going to break my ribs."
"Oh sorry, I just got too excited."
Edwick burst out laughing.
"HAHAHAHA Lane, you can come up with fantasies for anything. Fine then, let's prepare."
Edwick immediately gathered sixty men and rushed back toward the village to collect the Holy soldiers' armor from the church.
Lane climbed onto a rock and raised his voice.
"Listen carefully. Because of a few matters, we're delayed. We depart in fifteen minutes."
The murmuring stopped instantly.
"If anyone has a problem, speak now. We won't be taking the usual roads. Be prepared. The journey will take approximately three days. We will advance in two divisions. The first division will reach the forest within one day on horseback. I will be with that group."
Wind swept through his hair, carrying the scent of damp grass from outside.
"Seventy people will ride with me. The rest of you will receive armor. Every single one of you will wear it—men and women alike. Sara will direct you so that you appear as a proper marching unit. That is how we travel safely."
"You will receive remaining details from Sara and Gorn. PREPARE. WE MOVE."
Soon Edwick returned.
Carts filled with white Holy armor rolled in. Metal clanged sharply as pieces were unloaded. The church insignia still marked the chest plates, faintly glowing under moonlight.
People began putting them on. Straps were tightened. Helmets adjusted. The weight of borrowed authority settled onto tired shoulders.
Within ten minutes, it was 2:55.
A woman raised her voice.
"You expect us to wear these for three days? They're uncomfortable."
Lane stepped down from the rock and approached her calmly. Not rushed. Not irritated.
"Everyone else is wearing it. Compared to what we must accomplish ahead… do you truly think this is a problem?"
The woman lowered her head.
"I understand."
Lane raised his voice once more.
"Reasons like that are small compared to our purpose. Move."
The order was given.
Twenty supply wagons rolled forward. Wheels groaned against stone and dirt. Armored villagers marched in rows. The sound of metal scraping metal echoed through the thinning night like the approach of a disciplined unit.
Lane and the seventy mounted riders split away from the main body.
They moved fast.
The forest path narrowed, branches brushing against armor and cloaks. Horses snorted, breath turning to mist in the cooling air.
By five in the morning, they had been advancing for two hours. Fatigue began creeping in—not yet visible, but present. Even the horses were breathing harder now, their flanks rising and falling faster than before.
Meanwhile, Sara ordered a halt for the main column. Male guards spread out to scout the perimeter. The sky slowly lightened, gray washing over the horizon like diluted ink.
Far ahead, Lane's unit continued pushing forward.
Edwick finally said,
"We're pushing too hard. The horses will burn out. We should slow down."
Lane had been lost in thought, replaying routes, timing, potential ambush points. He hadn't even noticed their pace.
He came back to himself, pulled the reins, and slowed down.
Then he raised his fist.
The signal to halt.
The riders stopped almost simultaneously, trained by necessity more than discipline.
Lane dismounted.
"Let the horses rest. While they do, we prepare what's needed for the plan. We may arrive earlier than expected."
The horses were gathered and loosened. Steam rose from their bodies in the cold dawn air. Leather creaked as saddles were adjusted.
Lane called sixty men to assemble.
"Form a circle. Gather around the map I'm about to lay down. Don't crowd it—everyone needs to see."
He pulled the map from his pack and dropped it onto the ground.
It unfolded wide—four by six meters—spreading across the earth like a second terrain laid over the first.
The soldiers formed a ring around it, boots sinking slightly into damp soil.
Edwick stepped beside Lane.
The first rays of morning light touched the edge of the map, illuminating its surface.
Lane crouched down.
And began explaining the plan.