Reckoning

The early morning mist clung to the earth like a second skin, veiling the path ahead in a ghostly hue. Elara stood at the head of the small unit, her posture firm despite the weight of nerves twisting in her stomach.

This wasn't just a training exercise. This was real.

Rhys marched silently beside her, his keen eyes scanning the terrain. Kai followed close behind, his usual grin dimmed by the gravity of their mission. And then there was Keshav—ever unreadable, his presence like a quiet storm. Elara didn't miss the way he kept a subtle distance, yet his watchfulness never faltered.

She wondered if Damien had placed him in her unit intentionally. Was this another test?

The journey westward was long and winding, taking them through forested terrain and narrow passes. Their destination was a border village—one recently plagued by disturbances and whispers of insurgent activity. Not mere bandits, but something more... organized.

By the time they reached the outskirts, dusk had begun to settle, casting long shadows across the worn cobblestone paths of the village.

The head elder greeted them with a tight smile and wary eyes. "We've had sightings… men cloaked in ash-grey, strange symbols on their armor. They don't raid. They observe."

Elara exchanged a glance with Rhys. "Scouts," he said quietly.

"No," the elder corrected. "Messengers. They carry no weapons, only markings. One of our own tried to speak with them… he disappeared the next night."

A chill ran down Elara's spine.

Back at their temporary post—a dilapidated outpost on the edge of the village—Elara pored over maps by lanternlight. The unit took turns keeping watch. Rhys stayed by the perimeter. Keshav, as usual, kept mostly to himself, only speaking when necessary.

But later that night, as Elara reviewed reports alone, she heard the scrape of boots behind her.

"Kai's asleep," Keshav said, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "Rhys is on the ridge."

She nodded absently. "Thanks."

Silence settled between them.

"You're doing well," he said finally.

The words startled her. Praise from Keshav was rare—especially when not coated in sarcasm.

Elara met his gaze. "Why didn't you tell Damien about me?"

Keshav's jaw tensed slightly. "Because I don't see the point."

"That's not an answer."

He sighed, walking further into the room. "You're a good soldier. Better than most of the men here. I figured it wasn't my place to ruin something you've worked so hard for."

His voice was low, almost reluctant. "Besides… something tells me this kingdom is going to need soldiers who know how to fight—regardless of what they're hiding under their armor."

She blinked at him, unsure how to respond.

But before the conversation could go any deeper, Rhys burst through the door. "You need to see this."

They followed him to the ridge. Below, in the forest clearing, stood three figures—cloaked in ash-grey, faces hidden, motionless.

"What the hell…" Kai murmured, rubbing his eyes.

They bore no weapons. Just standing there, as if waiting.

And then, one raised a hand, holding up something small. A symbol—etched in stone.

Keshav narrowed his eyes. "That's not bandit work. That's a creed."

"A warning," Rhys added darkly.

Elara's blood ran cold.

Damien had said nothing about this kind of threat. This wasn't just a border issue. This felt deliberate. Ritualistic. The symbol… it bore faint resemblance to a carving she'd once seen in the royal archives back in the capital.

Forgotten Sons.

Or was it… something else?

Something older?

Before she could speak, one of the figures vanished into the trees. The others followed in eerie silence, disappearing like phantoms.

No trace. No noise.

Nothing but questions.

Elara stared into the night, heart pounding. She could feel it now—something deeper stirring beyond the horizon. This mission was no longer a simple assessment. It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.

And she wasn't sure if she was ready for it.