Chapter 13: War Drums

The wind carried whispers. Not the ordinary murmurs of the river's current or the rustling of leaves, but something deeper, something that wasn't heard before. It slithered through the streets of Caldris, curled around the stone towers of Velmora, and settled in the ears of rulers and warriors alike. A storm was coming. And all knew its name: war.

--

The council chamber in Caldris was ablaze with tension. Lords and commanders gathered in the great hall, the golden banners of the Caldrisian hawk draped behind them. At the head of the table sat Lord Rennic, his fingers pressed together in thought.

"A Velmoran patrol was sighted near the ruins last night," barked Commander Luthan, his scarred face dark with fury. "They were searching for something."

Joren sat near the back, silent. His heart pounded. He knew what they were searching for.

Lord Rennic exhaled sharply. "And what did they find?"

Luthan hesitated. "Nothing—so it seems. But they grow bolder. We cannot ignore this provocation."

Murmurs spread. Joren clenched his fists beneath the table. This wasn't about Velmoran patrols. It was fear. The bridge was stirring, and both nations were scrambling for control over something none of them understood.

Thalric's voice cut through the noise. "Velmora believes we mean to claim the bridge for ourselves. They will not sit idle." His gaze turned toward Joren, immediately, because he was ware of what Joren had been running to do at the bridge while coming back cackling and smiling like shit was exciting.

Joren said nothing. He felt the conviction of Thalric's suspicion like a blade pressed against his ribs. 'Did Thalric know he was always meeting Lyria at the bridge too?' That was a mystery yet to be solved.

Across the river, in Velmora's stone halls, Lyria stood before the Elders, her breath tight in her chest.

"You have been seen near the river," one of them said, his voice cold.

Eira stood beside her, stiff as stone. "Lyria has done nothing against Velmora."

"And yet, rumors spread," the Elder countered. "The bridge stirs. And you, child, have been wandering too close." The Elders were pressing on Lyria and they looked determined enough to force Lyria into revealing the truith.'How did it come to this?'

Lyria swallowed hard. They were watching her. The walls of Velmora were closing in on her.

--

By the time the first arrows flew, Joren and Lyria were already too late.

The River Arath gleamed beneath the moonlight as Caldrisian scouts and Velmoran archers exchanged warning shots across the water. What had begun as shadowed accusations now flared into something more dangerous.

Joren ducked behind an outcropping of rock, his pulse hammering in his throat. He wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to have stolen away in the night like a reckless fool. But he had to see her.

"Lyria," he whispered into the darkness.

She stepped from the trees, moonlight catching the strands of her dark hair. "You shouldn't have come."

"I had to."

She looked past him, toward the river. "They're preparing for war, Joren. Don't you see what we've done?" Lyria began regretting the thought that made her come to the bridge for the first time, that is what caused all these chaos. Her meeting Joren.

His hands tightened at his sides. "We didn't do this. They did. Fear did."

"And yet, we're here."

A silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring. Then, a flicker—a shape in the mist above the river. The air thickened.

Lyria gasped. "Did you see that?"

Joren did. The bridge. For a moment, it had been there—not fully, not solid—but something more than a shadow. An echo of what had once been.

They weren't alone.

On the Caldrisian side, Thalric crouched low, his grip tightening around the hilt of his dagger. On the Velmoran side, Eira watched with narrowed eyes.

Joren and Lyria had crossed a line. And they weren't the only ones who knew it. They were not listening, they were not being careful yet again, they were being reckless as always and they would soon pay for the consequences that is currently causing their nations to go to war.

--

By dawn, the rumors had spread like wildfire.

The bridge was returning. Some whispered it was an omen of victory. Others feared it was a curse, a reckoning for past sins.

In Caldris, blacksmiths worked tirelessly, forging blades for the coming war. Banners were raised, and war drums began their slow, rhythmic beat.

Thalric found Joren in his workshop, staring at half-finished blueprints for machines he no longer cared about.

"You've been reckless," Thalric said quietly. "You think no one sees you sneaking away, but they do."

Joren didn't look up. "If you're here to lecture me—"

"I'm here to warn you." Thalric stepped closer, voice low. "The Council watches you, Joren. You keep running to that river, and you won't have a home to return to." At this point, Thalric felt like he had hid Joren enough warnings and the trust that he put in Joren had almost slipped out in its entirety. 

Joren turned to face him. "And what would you have me do? Let them march toward war over ghosts and shadows?" 'Isn't that what Joren was already doing, letting their nations match to war because he was in love?'

Thalric's jaw tightened. "I would have you choose a side before one is chosen for you." 

Across the river, Eira's warning to Lyria was much the same.

"You have a choice to make," she said. "Velmora will not forgive you if you choose wrong."

Lyria looked past her, toward the river that had bound her to Joren.

"I don't think there is a choice," she whispered.

--

The war drums began at dusk.

Joren stood at the edge of the Caldrisian camp, his stomach twisting as he watched the soldiers assemble.

Velmora's forces gathered on the opposite side, banners snapping in the wind.

And in the space between them—the bridge glowed again.

Joren felt it. The river stilled, the air ominous with something old.

Lyria stood across from him, her eyes finding his.

For a moment, the war drums faded, the banners meant nothing.

And then, the earth trembled.

A shadow stretched across the river.

The bridge did not remain silent.

It was waking up.

The war drums thundered across the river.

The bridge did not remain silent.