VALOR IN OUR BLOOD PT 2

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THE SPARK

The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of our clubhouse, casting warm, golden light across the wooden floor. I sat at the large oak table, my hands moving automatically as I packed gear into my backpack. The familiar routine of checking each item—maps, supplies, and tools—should have been comforting, but my thoughts were miles away, back in the quiet moment when I saw Mom, Guenwhyvar, crying in the garden.

It wasn’t like her to let her emotions show—at least, not around me. Mom was always the strong one, the one who kept everything together, especially when Dad was away fighting at The Wall. But today, I’d stumbled upon her in a moment she thought was private. She hadn’t seen me, hidden as I was behind the garden wall, but I’d seen her—her shoulders shaking as she wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself. The sight of it had stopped me cold, my heart twisting in a way I hadn’t expected.

She was worried about my dad, Masdrin. It had been weeks since we last heard from him, and the war was dragging on with no end in sight. They’d been married for fifteen years, and in all that time, I’d never seen her falter, not like this. Seeing her like that—so vulnerable, so alone—made something inside me snap. I couldn’t just sit here, doing nothing, while she was struggling to keep it together.

I tried to push the image out of my mind, but it stuck with me, weighing me down. It wasn’t an immediate danger that had Mom so upset—it was the endless waiting, the uncertainty, not knowing when or if Dad would come back. That kind of fear, the kind that builds up over time, was suffocating. It made me feel helpless, small, in a way I wasn’t used to.

“Ash? What’s going on?” Artyom’s voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing by the table, his ice-blue eyes filled with concern.

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. I didn’t want to tell him what I’d seen, didn’t want to admit how much it had shaken me. But I couldn’t lie to Artyom, not when he was looking at me like that. “I… I’m going to check on them,” I finally managed, my voice rougher than I intended. “I just can’t sit here after seeing Mom like that.”

Artyom frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together what I wasn’t saying. “What do you mean? What exactly happened?”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep it together. “I saw her crying, Artyom. She was in the garden, and… I’ve never seen her like that before. She’s worried about Dad, about all of us. The war—it’s dragging on, and I can see it’s tearing her apart. I can’t just sit here and wait, Artyom. I need to do something.”

The words came out in a rush, faster than I could stop them. I felt my chest tighten, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to keep my voice steady. The image of Mom, usually so strong, breaking down like that… it was too much. I felt like I was falling apart just thinking about it.

Artyom’s expression softened, but I could see the determination in his eyes. He knew what this meant—how serious it was. “You’re not doing this alone,” he said, stepping closer. “Euros and Sirisi—they’ll want to help too. We’re in this together, Ash. Always.”

I nodded, though it felt like agreeing meant admitting how scared I really was. But Artyom was right. I couldn’t do this alone. We were stronger together. “Alright. But hurry.”

Artyom didn’t waste any time. He dashed out of the clubhouse, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. I clenched my fists, trying to steady the tremor that ran through them. I hated this feeling—this helplessness. I was supposed to be the leader, the one who kept everyone else safe. But how could I do that if I couldn’t even keep myself from falling apart?

I forced myself to focus on the tasks in front of me, checking and rechecking the contents of my backpack. Anything to keep my mind occupied. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the image of Mom’s tears, or the fear that the war might drag on forever, with Dad caught in its grip. The silence from the front lines weighed heavily on me, and the thought of Dad being out there, facing who knows what, gnawed at my insides.

The sound of footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Artyom, Euros, and Sirisi rushing into the clubhouse. They were all here, just like we always were when things got tough. Seeing them—seeing the determination in their eyes—helped push back the fear, just a little.

Euros didn’t waste any time. “What’s going on, Ash?” he asked, his voice steady but serious.

I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I saw Mom crying,” I admitted, my voice still rough but stronger now. “She’s scared for Dad, for all of us. The war—it’s not ending anytime soon, and it’s tearing her apart. We… we can’t just sit here and wait. We need to do something—we need to be there for them.”

The room fell silent as my words sank in. Sirisi reached out, her hand resting on my arm, offering silent support. “We’ll figure this out together, Ash,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Whatever happens… we’ll face it as a team.”

Euros was already moving, pulling a map towards him. “We need to plan this out carefully,” he said, his voice cool and composed. “I’ll use my spells to keep us hidden during the flight.”

Sirisi nodded. “I’ll keep us mentally linked, and I’ll sense any dangers before they find us.”

Artyom, always the practical one, was already gathering the gear. “I’ll make sure everything’s packed tight and that the birds are ready to go. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

I looked at each of them, the fear in my chest easing slightly with their presence. We were a team, stronger together than apart. And as long as we were together, maybe—just maybe—we could face whatever was coming.

“We have to do this,” I said finally, my voice steadier now. “If something happened and we just stood by… I couldn’t live with that.”

Their resolve matched my own. We were ready. Whatever awaited us out there, we would face it together.

As we finished gathering our things, I knew we needed to speak with Mom, Aunt Katya, and Uncle Beocca before we left. They were the ones holding down the fort while the others were out fighting, and they deserved to know what we were planning. Uncle Beocca would have been on the front lines with Dad, but Dad insisted he stay back to help defend the estate in case anything happened.

“We should go see them,” I said, standing up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “Mom, Aunt Katya, and Uncle Beocca—they need to know what we’re doing.”

The others nodded in agreement. We gathered our gear and headed out, determination fueling each step as we prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

TELLING OUR FAMILY

The late evening shadows stretched long as we made our way from the elevated clubhouse, the comforting safety of our hidden retreat fading with each step. We moved quietly along the wooden walkways and across the rope bridges, each of us lost in thought as we descended toward the manor. The magical maple tree, which housed our clubhouse, stood tall and protective, its leaves rustling softly in the night breeze.

The manor loomed below, its windows glowing softly in the fading light. It felt strange leaving the height of the clubhouse to descend into the world below, especially with the weight of what we were about to do pressing down on me.

When we reached the ground, we walked the short distance to the manor's entrance. I paused for a moment at the door, glancing at the others. They were just as determined as I was, their faces set with resolve.

Pushing open the heavy door, we stepped inside. The familiar creak echoed through the hallway as we found Mom, Aunt Katya, and Uncle Beocca in the drawing room, their quiet conversation halting as soon as we entered. Concern and understanding filled their eyes as they looked at us.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “Mom, Aunt Kitty, Uncle BB,” I began, my voice steady but careful, “We’ve been thinking… the longer this war goes on, the more we worry about Dad and everyone else at The Wall. We can’t just sit here and do nothing. We want to go and check on them.”

I hesitated, glancing at the others for support. “We’ll be careful. We’ll fly out under the cover of night to stay hidden, and we’ll avoid getting too close to any danger. We just… we need to know they’re okay.”

I could see Mom’s face tighten, understanding what I was saying. “Absolutely not, Ash! It’s too dangerous. Your father would never forgive himself if anything happened to you.”

Aunt Katya looked at me, concern clear in her eyes. “Can’t let you go, little one, not when you so exposed up there. Skies could be full of dangers, yes? Need to be careful, Mama’s kitten.”

Uncle Beocca crossed his arms, his expression stern. “You’re all brave, but this isn’t something you should be doing. Flying near The Wall right now is reckless. You don’t know what could be waiting for you out there.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “We’ll be careful, I promise. We’ll stay high and avoid getting too close to The Wall. We just… we need to see for ourselves that everyone is safe.”

Euros stepped in, his voice calm and steady. “We’re planning to leave under the cover of night. We can all see in the dark, and the humans of Felderia can’t, so we’ll have the advantage.”

Sirisi added softly, “If we see anything dangerous, we’ll turn back immediately. We just need to know they’re alright.”

Artyom, standing next to Aunt Katya, nodded. “We’ll be careful, and we’ll come back as soon as we’ve seen that everyone’s safe. I promise, Mom.”

The room was silent for a moment as the adults exchanged glances. I could see the conflict in Mom’s eyes—she knew we were serious, and she knew that if they said no, we might still find a way to go. It was something she’d seen in Dad, that determination to do what was necessary, no matter the risk. At least we were telling them this time, instead of sneaking off in the middle of the night.

Finally, Mom sighed, her voice softer now but still laced with worry. “Alright. But you must promise me you’ll be careful and come back safely. Stay high and out of sight.”

Aunt Katya added, her tone firm but loving, “Stay close to each other, yes? No wandering off, no taking silly risks. Keep safe, little ones.”

Uncle Beocca’s expression softened slightly, though his voice remained serious. “Stay out of sight, avoid trouble, and come back as soon as you can. And remember, the skies can be just as dangerous as the ground.”

We all nodded, the weight of their words settling on our shoulders. After a brief, emotional exchange, we left the warmth of the manor and headed back toward the tree to prepare for our flight. We used the lift system to return to the clubhouse and gathered our gear one last time, ensuring everything was in place. As we mounted our giant birds, I glanced back at the manor, catching one last look at Mom, Aunt Katya, and Uncle Beocca standing in the doorway, their faces lined with worry and hope.

As we lifted off into the night sky, I felt the weight of our mission settle over me, but also the strength that came from knowing we were doing the right thing. I gripped the reins tightly, determined to see this through and make it back safely, just like we promised.

PREPARING FOR THE FLIGHT

We made our way back to the clubhouse, the night air cool against our faces as we moved quickly along the walkways and across the rope bridges. The tension from the conversation with Mom, Aunt Katya, and Uncle Beocca still lingered, but we had a mission now, and there was no turning back.

Once inside, the familiar surroundings of the clubhouse brought a sense of calm, even as we got straight to work. The large table in the center was already cluttered with supplies, and we moved around it, each of us focused on our own tasks.

“Let’s double-check everything,” I said, glancing around at the others. “We can’t afford to forget anything.”

Euros was already going through his pack, muttering a few words under his breath as he checked his spell components. Sirisi sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed as she concentrated on maintaining a mental link between us—a quiet reassurance that we were all in this together.

Artyom, true to form, moved to the corner where the heavier gear was stored. He grabbed the tent, stove, and cooking supplies, carefully packing them into his large, sturdy backpack. “I’ve got the heavy stuff,” he said with a grin, hoisting the pack onto his shoulders with ease. “Wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. Artyom always volunteered to carry the heavier gear, a silent show of his strength and his desire to support the rest of us. It was something I was grateful for, even if he never made a big deal about it.

I went over my own pack, making sure the maps were secure and that we had enough rations for the journey. My fingers brushed over the hilt of my dagger, a familiar comfort in the midst of all the uncertainty. Everything was in place, and I could feel the steady resolve building inside me.

“Everyone ready?” I asked, looking around at my cousins.

Sirisi opened her eyes, giving a small nod. “We’re all set.”

Euros slung his pack over his shoulder. “Protective spells are ready. We should be good to go.”

Artyom tightened the straps on his pack and gave me a thumbs-up. “Ready when you are, Ash.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

We moved out of the clubhouse and down toward the nesting area where our giant birds were waiting. The night was still, the darkness around us comforting in its familiarity. The birds sensed our approach, their sharp eyes glinting in the low light as they shifted on their perches.

The time had come. We were ready.

A NIGHTTIME JOURNEY

The night was deep and still as we made our way to the nesting areas, the soft glow of the clubhouse lights fading behind us. The platforms and walkways, carefully built into the treehouse, led us to the places where our giant birds waited. These areas had always felt like an extension of our home—safe, familiar, and comforting. But tonight, they held a different kind of energy, one charged with anticipation.

I moved with purpose toward Blaze, my giant golden eagle. His rich, golden-brown feathers blended into the darkness, making him nearly invisible save for the piercing amber of his eyes. I reached out, letting my hand glide over his feathers, feeling the warmth and strength beneath them. He responded with a soft rustle of his wings, ready and eager to take flight.

“Everyone ready?” I asked, my voice low but steady. The others nodded, their faces set with determination. We’d done this before, but this time felt different—more serious, more urgent.

Euros stepped forward, already beginning the intricate motions of his spellcasting. His voice was a quiet murmur, the words flowing smoothly as he cast protective spells around us. A soft shimmer enveloped the group, a barely perceptible barrier that would keep us safe from most immediate dangers.

Sirisi stood still, her eyes closing briefly as she concentrated. I felt the subtle shift in the air as she established a mental link between us, a gentle presence in my mind that reassured me we could communicate silently during the flight. “We’re linked,” her voice echoed in my thoughts, clear and calm.

Artyom, as always, took charge of the gear, making sure everything was secure. He gave Titan, his giant bald eagle, a final check before tightening the straps on his own pack. “Everything’s set,” he said, his voice carrying that quiet confidence I’d come to rely on. “Let’s do this.”

With a final glance at each other, we mounted our birds. Blaze shifted beneath me, his muscles tensing in readiness. I gave a gentle nudge with my knees, and we lifted off, the ground falling away as the night sky embraced us.

The cool air rushed past, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. The stars above were faint, just pinpricks of light in the vast darkness. We flew in silence, the only sounds the soft rustle of feathers and the occasional flap of wings. Below, the world was a shadowy landscape, familiar and yet alien in the night.

The tension among us was unmistakable, each of us fully aware of what lay ahead. The Wall loomed in the distance, its formidable structure lined with the glowing light of countless lanterns and torches. Emberstonian soldiers moved along its length, their armor catching the flickering light as they stood vigilant against the night. To us, The Wall was more than just a barrier—it was a symbol of strength, defense, and unity, built through the joint efforts of the Dwarves of Oakenbrid Mountain, the Elves of Shore, and the people of Emberstone. It stood as a testament to what could be achieved when different peoples came together with a common purpose.

“Stay close,” I reminded everyone through the mental link Sirisi had established. There was a murmur of agreement in my mind, a shared understanding that we were in this together.

As we flew, the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, every sound, every shift in the wind heightening my senses and making my heart race. But Blaze flew smoothly, his powerful wings cutting through the air with ease. I trusted him completely, just as I trusted my cousins flying beside me.

“We’re approaching The Wall,” Euros’ voice sounded in my mind, steady but serious. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready,” we all responded, our minds linked in a shared resolve.

As we drew closer, the flickering lights along The Wall became more distinct, casting long shadows that danced across the ground below. The sight was both reassuring and daunting—the presence of so many soldiers meant that our family was well-protected, but it also reminded us of the dangers that lurked just beyond the light’s reach.

We flew closer, the tension growing with each passing second. The night was our ally, the darkness our shield. We moved as one, silent and focused, knowing that whatever awaited us, we would face it together.

THE DIRE SITUATION AT THE WALL

As we drew closer to The Wall, the atmosphere shifted. The serene night flight that had carried us through the dark skies now gave way to a scene of chaos and destruction. Below us, the battlefield was alive with the sounds of clashing steel, shouting soldiers, and the distant thunder of war machines. The Wall itself, usually a symbol of strength and unity, now stood as a bulwark against overwhelming odds. The Emberstonian Army and the Barra D'aron, led by Dad, Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice, and Aunt Siri, fought fiercely, but it was clear—the situation was dire.

Lanterns and torches flickered along the length of The Wall, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The Felderian forces swarmed like an endless tide, their sheer numbers daunting even from our vantage point high above. Emberstone's soldiers, though valiant and resolute, were managing to hold the line, but just barely. The battle had reached a stalemate, one that was slowly tipping in Felderia’s favor. If they could push past The Wall, it was clear they believed they could sweep through all of Emberstone.

Atop The Wall, I could see the Barra D'aron riflemen lined up, firing their single-shot breech-loading rifles with disciplined precision. Each shot cracked through the night, the muzzle flashes briefly illuminating their determined faces as they picked off enemy targets. Below them, the Emberstonian archers wielded finely crafted elven bows from Shore, their arrows flying in deadly arcs to strike down the advancing Felderians. The contrast between the old and new weapons was stark, yet both proved effective in slowing the enemy’s advance.

Scattered among the Emberstonian forces were the small, stout figures of the Oakenbrid Dwarves. Though few in number, their presence was unmistakable. With shields held firm and revolvers in hand, they moved in tight, disciplined formations, their armor gleaming under the torchlight. Their revolvers fired in sharp, coordinated volleys, taking down Felderian soldiers with deadly accuracy. These dwarves were no strangers to battle, their heavy shields providing a nearly impenetrable defense as they pushed forward. Even outnumbered, their resolve was unshakable.

As we continued to scan the battlefield, I noticed the sky was alive with the hum of gnomish airships approaching from the north, far below our flight path. The gnomes of Nuvinland had joined the fray, their airships hovering above The Wall, sleek and efficient in design. From these vessels, a barrage of strange and wondrous devices rained down upon the Felderian ranks. Explosive spheres detonated with precision, throwing soldiers into disarray, while entangling nets shot out, ensnaring groups of enemies and rendering them helpless.

“Look there,” Artyom said, his deep voice cutting through the tension as he pointed toward the sky. He was always quick to spot details, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “The gnomes are using their drones. This might give our side a better chance.”

I watched in awe as the small, buzzing contraptions zoomed through the air, seeking out enemy soldiers and delivering powerful electric shocks that left them writhing on the ground. The gnomes moved with practiced efficiency, their mechanical inventions adding a layer of chaos that the Felderians were ill-prepared to handle.

On the ground, the Emberstonian soldiers, clad in mithril armor forged by the Oakenbrid Dwarves, fought valiantly. Their armor gleamed in the torchlight, deflecting blows that would have felled lesser men. Most front-line soldiers carried a sword and shield, their movements swift and practiced as they engaged the enemy in close combat. Many also carried breech-loading pistols, which they fired at point-blank range before drawing their swords to clash with the enemy. I knew that these pistols were also used to take down fleeing enemies, ensuring no survivors escaped to regroup or inform, but tonight there were no fleeing foes—only relentless waves of Felderian soldiers, determined to break through. The Felderians were unyielding, but so were the Emberstonians, their resolve fueled by the knowledge that The Wall was the last barrier between their homeland and the invaders.

From above, the battlefield looked like a chaotic tapestry of violence. Felderian soldiers, their armor gleaming dully in the torchlight, advanced in disciplined ranks, their shields locked together as they pushed forward. They were met with the combined might of rifle fire, arrows, and magic, but still, they pressed on, their determination unwavering. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the night, punctuated by the cries of the wounded and the sharp commands of officers trying to maintain order amidst the chaos.

The Wall itself was under constant assault from Felderian cannons, their booms reverberating through the night as they fired round after round at the fortifications. These cannons, powerful as they were, could only inflict superficial damage on The Wall’s immense structure. The thick, reinforced stone absorbed much of the impact, with only small chunks and debris falling away under the bombardment. Emberstone’s engineers kept a watchful eye, ready to repair any significant breaches, but for now, The Wall held firm. The defenders atop The Wall fought desperately to repel the invaders, their swords and spears flashing in the firelight as they struggled to keep the enemy from breaching their defenses.

My stomach tightened as I watched the Felderians push methodically closer to The Wall, exploiting every breach. Their archers were relentless, their arrows finding targets with deadly accuracy. It felt like watching an unstoppable tide, and I couldn’t shake the fear that no matter how hard our side fought, it might not be enough.

I squinted, my eyes scanning the chaos below. And then, among the flashes of steel and magic, I saw it—a bright muzzle flash, followed by another, and another. Dad’s revolver. I could just make out his silhouette, firing with precision into the mass of enemies, each shot landing true. But even with his skill, it wasn’t enough to turn the tide.

To his right, I could see Aunt Siri, her form glowing faintly with the power of her psionics. People were being tossed aside like rag dolls, their weapons and bodies flung through the air with invisible force. But even she was surrounded, holding the line but unable to advance.

“Look there,” Euros said, his voice tense as he pointed toward Uncle Cydroc. His hands moved rapidly, casting an array of offensive spells—fire, ice, and shadow, all weaving together in a deadly dance of destruction. But despite his efforts, the enemy remained relentless, confident in their numbers.

Aunt Malice wasn’t far from him, her chain lightning spells crackling across the battlefield, jumping from one Felderian soldier to the next. The air around her was thick with the smell of ozone and scorched earth, her magic lighting up the night with brilliant flashes. Her spells were devastating, but the Felderians pushed forward, undeterred by the losses.

Artyom shifted slightly on Titan’s back, his eyes narrowing as he watched the battlefield. “This is bad... really bad,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “They’re throwing everything they have at us. If this keeps up…” He didn’t finish the thought, but the worry in his voice said enough.

My heart clenched as I watched, a cold fear creeping into my chest. I had never seen anything like this. Dad, Aunt Siri, Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice—people I’d always seen as invincible—were struggling, barely holding the line. What if this was the day they couldn’t? What if we lost them?

We can’t lose them.

“We have to do something,” I said, my voice cracking as I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. My mind raced, searching desperately for a solution. But what could we do? We were just kids, and we promised we wouldn’t get too close.

“We’re not supposed to get involved,” Sirisi reminded us, her voice soft but laced with the same fear we were all feeling.

I gritted my teeth, my heart pounding in my chest. “But look at them. They need us. If we could just get closer, maybe we could gather information—maybe we could find a way to help without getting in the way.”

The decision weighed heavily on all of us. We had promised. We had sworn to stay away, to remain out of sight. But how could we sit by and do nothing? How could we watch our parents fight for their lives and not try to help?

I felt the others hesitate, but deep down, I knew they felt the same. We couldn’t stand by. Not now.

I guided Blaze forward, edging us closer to The Wall, careful to keep our distance but close enough to see everything clearly. The others followed suit, their birds gliding silently beside me as we hovered above the chaos, trying to stay unnoticed, our eyes locked on the battlefield below.

The sounds of the battle grew louder—the clashing of swords, the cries of soldiers, the desperate shouts of commanders trying to hold the line. It was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of it all bearing down on us as we moved closer.

“Stay out of sight,” I reminded them through the mental link, my voice tense. “We can’t be seen. Not by anyone.”

We maintained our altitude well above The Wall's highest points, our birds gliding silently through the night sky. From this distance, the desperation of the battle was clear—Emberstone’s forces were holding their ground, but just barely. The Felderians continued their relentless assault, driving Emberstone’s defenses to their limits. But even the Emberstonians below, our own allies, couldn’t know we were here. We had to remain hidden, watching from above, as unseen as the night itself.

But we were here. And somehow, we had to help.

A CARRIAGE IN THE DISTANCE

The night sky stretched endlessly above us, the stars twinkling like tiny diamonds against a canvas of darkness. Below, The Wall loomed, a massive barrier of stone and steel, lit by the flickering glow of torches and the occasional flash of magic from the ongoing battle. The sounds of the clash—metal against metal, shouts of soldiers, and the deep booms of Felderian cannons—were a constant reminder of the stakes.

As we hovered above, watching the chaos unfold, something caught my eye in the distance. A soft, warm glow, out of place against the bleak landscape. I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the source of the light. “Euros, do you see that?” I sent through the mental link, my thoughts sharp with curiosity.

Euros, immediately responding to the silent call, cast a quick spell to enhance his vision. His eyes glowed faintly with magic as he focused on the carriage. “Yeah, I see it. That’s no ordinary carriage. It’s incredibly ornate—gilded, with intricate scrollwork and detailed insignias. And it’s only lightly guarded.”

Sirisi, sensing the tension in our thoughts, closed her eyes and reached out with her psionic abilities. After a moment, her mental voice came through, tinged with concern. “I can’t get a clear read from here. The distance is too great, but... I can sense nervousness and fear from those around it. They’re definitely on high alert.”

Artyom, ever practical, chimed in through the link, his thoughts clear and focused. “We should circle around from a higher altitude, make sure we’re not spotted by any other Felderian forces. If that carriage is as important as it looks, there might be more soldiers nearby.”

Agreeing with Artyom’s suggestion, I guided Blaze to take us higher. We moved cautiously, the wind rustling through our hair as our giant birds adjusted their flight path. From our new vantage point, the carriage was still visible, but we remained safely out of sight.

As we circled, I kept my focus on the carriage, the intricate designs becoming clearer with each pass. The six guards around it stood at attention, their armor gleaming in the lantern light. They were members of the Felderian Royal Guard, easily recognizable by their distinct armor. The Royal Guard only protected the most critical members of the royal family. But why so few guards for something so obviously important? The more I observed, the more suspicious I became.

“This feels like a trap,” Euros sent, his thoughts laced with concern. “Why would they have such a valuable target so poorly guarded?”

“Maybe they think hiding the carriage here, away from the main forces, is safer,” Sirisi suggested, her tone cautious. “A large convoy would be too obvious. This way, they might have thought no one would find them.”

Artyom agreed with Sirisi’s reasoning, his thoughts echoing through the link. “That makes sense. They’re trying to keep it hidden by blending in with the surroundings. They probably figured it was safer than drawing attention with a big escort.”

I considered their words, the weight of the decision heavy on my shoulders. The carriage was clearly important, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. But it was also risky—there was no way to know what we might be walking into. The Royal Guard’s presence could mean a member of the royal family was inside. If that were true, capturing or even just gathering information about them could turn the tide of the war. But if it was a trap, the consequences could be disastrous.

“We need to act,” I finally decided, the resolve in my thoughts surprising even myself. “Let’s approach cautiously, stay out of sight until we’re sure it’s safe to move in.”

The others agreed silently, and we began our descent, our giant birds gliding quietly through the night. The glow from the carriage grew brighter as we neared, the tension among us thick in the air. Whoever—or whatever—awaited us in that carriage, we were ready to face it together.

AMBUSH ON THE CARRIAGE

The night was thick with tension as we hovered above the hidden clearing, our breaths held in silent anticipation. Below us, the carriage glowed softly, its golden trim catching the dim light from the lanterns hanging at its sides. Six guards stood watch around it, their stances rigid and alert, completely unaware of the danger lurking just above them.

We couldn’t just charge in. Taking on six guards was no small task, and the carriage’s position in the clearing left little room for error. We needed a plan, and we needed it fast.

“We’ll need to take them all out at once,” I sent through the psionic link, my thoughts sharp as I assessed the situation. The weight of the decision pressed down on me. If even one of the guards managed to sound the alarm, the element of surprise would be lost, and our chance to capture whoever was inside the carriage would slip through our fingers.

“I can handle one with Blaze,” I continued, glancing at my golden eagle, who was already eyeing the guards below with a focused intensity. Blaze seemed ready, his eyes locked on the closest guard. “But we’ll need to distract the rest, keep them looking up while we move in.”

“I can create a distraction,” Euros offered, his mind racing through the possibilities. “Nimbus and Aurelia can stage a fight above them, something loud and chaotic. They won’t be able to resist looking up.” I could sense his confidence, a reassuring steadiness that reminded me how much I trusted him in moments like these.

“Good,” Sirisi agreed, already strategizing her next move. There was a calm resolve in her thoughts, a reflection of the trust we all placed in each other’s abilities. “While they’re distracted, we can each take a guard. I’ll use my psionics to incapacitate one quickly.”

“And I’ll take out one with Sentinel,” Artyom added, his confidence steady as he prepared himself for the task ahead. “Titan can handle another, but we need to make sure it’s all done at the same time.” His thoughts were like a rock, solid and dependable, which gave me even more confidence that our plan would work.

I nodded, the plan coming together swiftly in my mind. “Right. We strike when they’re fully distracted. On my signal, everyone moves at once. We take them out cleanly, no mess, no noise. Then we move on the carriage.” As the leader, it was my responsibility to make sure everything went perfectly. But with these three by my side, I knew we could do it.

The others sent their agreement through the link, and I could feel the shared determination binding us together. We were ready.

“Let’s do this,” I sent, setting the plan into motion.

Nimbus and Aurelia swooped down, their wings cutting through the air as they began their mock battle. Screeches echoed through the darkness as they dived at each other, claws flashing in the dim light. From the ground, the guards looked up, their attention captured by the spectacle above. I could see the confusion on their faces, wondering if the birds were a threat or just wild animals. They never saw us coming.

“Go,” I sent through the link, and we moved as one.

I aimed my crossbow pistol at the guard closest to the front of the carriage—the leader, judging by his stance and armor. The sleep dart flew true, striking him in the neck. He swayed for a moment, then crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Blaze wasted no time, swooping in to strike another guard with a precise, strong blow from his beak, sending the guard sprawling to the ground.

Euros, always quick with his magic, cast a spell of silence around his target, muffling the area to prevent any sound from escaping. With Bonk, his enchanted brass knuckles, ready, he moved in swiftly and delivered a powerful, silent punch that knocked the guard out cold. His efficiency was impressive, as always.

Sirisi’s target barely had time to react before she unleashed Mind Spike, the psionic attack slicing through his mind like a knife. He staggered, clutching his head, and Sirisi was on him in an instant, her Aspuenyx Staff, Spectra, delivering the final blow that sent him crashing to the ground.

Artyom moved with incredible speed and force, charging at his guard with Sentinel in hand. He struck with the flat of the bat, the impact reverberating through the night as the guard dropped, unconscious before he hit the ground. At the same moment, Titan swooped down, his beak delivering a strong, calculated strike that knocked out the final guard cleanly.

In a matter of seconds, it was over. All six guards lay on the ground, unconscious and completely unaware of what had hit them. The distraction from Nimbus and Aurelia had worked perfectly, keeping the guards off-balance and distracted while we executed our plan with precision.

I could feel the pride welling up in each of us, our hearts beating fast with the thrill of a job well done. “Clear,” I sent through the link, signaling the others to regroup.

Before approaching the carriage, I carefully loaded another sleep dart into my crossbow pistol. I wanted to be ready for whatever might be inside. With the dart in place, I moved toward the door, holding the House De'Endar dagger close to the lock. With a slight twist of my wrist and a focused thought, the dagger’s magic activated, causing the lock to click open without a sound.

The door creaked slightly as it swung open, revealing a noblewoman inside, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. Without hesitation, I raised my crossbow and fired the sleep dart. It struck true, and within moments, she slumped forward, sedated before she could make a sound.

We moved quickly, binding and gagging the noblewoman to ensure she wouldn’t cause any trouble once she woke up. With practiced hands, we tied her securely to Nimbus, who adjusted to the new weight with a gentle flap of his wings. Euros, with his wings extended, prepared to fly beside his falcon as we made our way back to our side of the battlefront.

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As we regrouped, Sirisi’s thoughts echoed the sense of achievement we all felt. “We did it,” she sent, a mix of relief and excitement in her thoughts. “But who is she?”

Artyom added, “Whoever she is, we caught her without any problems. They never knew we were here.”

I glanced back at the now-silent carriage. “Whoever she is, she’s important to Felderia. We need to get her back to Emberstone. She might be the key to turning the tide.”

With our mission complete, we prepared to return, the quiet thrill of success still buzzing in our minds. We had captured someone significant, though we couldn’t yet grasp just how critical this would be.

AFTER THE STORM

The air grew colder as we approached The Wall, the towering structure looming out of the darkness like a silent sentinel. Below, the Emberstonian camp was alive with activity, soldiers moving with a mixture of urgency and exhaustion. The battle had ended for the night, but the tension hung thick in the air, an invisible weight pressing down on everyone who had survived the skirmish.

As we descended, I spotted my father, Masdrin, at the center of the camp. Even from a distance, his presence was unmistakable—commanding, steady, and in complete control. He was giving orders to a group of soldiers, his voice calm yet firm, the tone of a leader who knew exactly what needed to be done. Seeing him there, directing the defense of The Wall, filled me with a surge of pride. But there was fear, too—fear for his safety, for the risks he took every day to protect our home. My thoughts flickered briefly to my mother, Guenwhyvar, safe in Mistwood, undoubtedly worried about us both.

“They’ve been at it all night,” Euros sent through the psionic link, his voice tinged with concern. I followed his gaze and saw his parents, Cydroc and Malice, engaged in a serious discussion with other commanders. Their faces were drawn, their focus intense as they analyzed the outcome of the battle and prepared for whatever might come next. Seeing them like this, so deeply involved in the fight to protect Emberstone, made Euros realize just how much pressure they were under. It was one thing to know your parents were powerful; it was another to see the weight they carried every day.

Sirisi’s eyes scanned the camp until they settled on her mother, Siri. She was moving among the wounded, not only offering words of comfort and guidance but also providing much-needed first aid to the injured soldiers. Her hands were steady as she dressed wounds and administered healing, her presence calm and reassuring even in the midst of chaos. Sirisi could feel the heavy emotions lingering in the air—the fear, the relief, the exhaustion of the soldiers who had survived the night’s battle. The intensity of it all washed over her, almost overwhelming in its depth. But as she watched her mother work with unwavering focus, Sirisi felt her own resolve harden. There was no time to be overwhelmed. Too much was at stake, and she knew she had to stay strong.

Artyom’s gaze moved across the camp, taking in the scene with a serious expression. He knew his parents, Beocca and Katya, were safe back in Mistwood, far from the danger that loomed over The Wall. But here, on the front lines, there was no room for thoughts of home. The gravity of the situation before him was all that mattered now. Soldiers were reinforcing defenses, tending to the wounded, and preparing for whatever might come next. The seriousness of the moment sharpened his focus, filling him with a sense of purpose. His parents had always taught him to face challenges head-on, and now, more than ever, he was determined to do just that.

As we touched down, Korlis, the griffon, stood beside my father, Masdrin. The massive creature’s presence was as commanding as ever, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield with a protective intensity. Korlis had always been a symbol of House De'Endar’s strength, and seeing him here, so close to the front lines, reminded everyone of the unity and power that our house brought to the fight. The soldiers who caught sight of Korlis seemed to stand a little taller, their resolve visibly bolstered by his presence.

We moved through the camp with purpose, our own resolve strengthened by the sights and sounds around us. The night had brought a brief respite, but we all knew it wouldn’t last. There was still so much to be done, so many battles yet to fight. But for now, we were here, ready to face whatever came next.

THE CONFRONTATION

The night’s stillness was abruptly shattered as we returned to camp with our unexpected captive. The tension in the air was thick as our birds landed, their wings stirring the dust and drawing the attention of the soldiers. As we approached, I caught sight of my father in the center of the camp, still giving orders and overseeing the aftermath of the battle.

His commanding presence was something I’d always admired, but as he looked up and saw us, his expression shifted to something I’d never expected—shock, disbelief, and, for the first time, fear.

“What are you doing here?” Dad’s voice was a low growl as he strode toward us, his eyes narrowing as they flicked from me to the bound and gagged woman on Nimbus. “Do you even realize how dangerous it is to be here?” His tone was sharp, the anger and fear clear in his words. He didn’t wait for a response, and before I could even try to explain, he unleashed a string of words I wouldn’t dare repeat. “You should be back at home where it’s safe,” he finished, his frustration spilling over. I swallowed hard, realizing just how much we had overstepped.

Before we could explain, Dad’s eyes locked onto the woman on Nimbus. His expression changed again, his eyes widening as he moved closer. “How in the world did you manage this?” he demanded, his voice thick with urgency. He studied the woman, disbelief coloring his tone. “That’s Queen Celia of Felderia.”

I took a deep breath, knowing I had to answer quickly. “We saw the battle from the sky,” I began, keeping my voice steady. “We watched as our forces fought valiantly, holding the line against a much larger Felderian army. Dad, you, Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice, and Aunt Siri were leading the defense, and despite being outnumbered, you were all fighting with everything you had.”

Dad’s eyes flickered with something—pride, maybe—but I continued before he could speak. “But while we were watching, we noticed something else—her carriage. It was hidden away in a clearing and lightly guarded, but from our vantage point in the sky, we could see it clearly. We didn’t know exactly who was inside, but we could tell it was someone important because of the royal guard surrounding it. We decided to get closer, and once we saw that, we knew capturing whoever was inside could make a difference in the battle. So we came up with a plan and acted on it, thinking it might help turn the tide.”

Without another word, Dad called over Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice, Aunt Siri, and the other officers. The tension in the air was thick as they gathered around. I could see the wheels turning in Dad’s mind, weighing every possible outcome. His eyes flicked back to me, narrowing as if he was trying to make sense of how we had pulled this off.

“We’ll wait until morning,” Dad finally said, his voice steady and sure. “By then, the Felderians will notice their Queen is missing, and they’ll be desperate to know what happened. We’ll need to ensure she’s well treated in the meantime.” He looked at Aunt Siri, his tone softening slightly. “I want you and your team to guard Queen Celia. Make sure she feels as safe as possible under the circumstances. We don’t need her more frightened than she already is.”

Aunt Siri nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. I noticed the look on her face—calm and resolute, just like Dad’s. They were cut from the same cloth, those two.

Euros, Sirisi, and Artyom stood beside me, their eyes wide as they took in the scene. They’d been silent since we landed, likely just as overwhelmed as I was by everything that had happened. But their presence was a comfort, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this. We were in it together.

Dad turned to one of his most trusted scouts, a veteran messenger who had served the Barra D'aron for years. "Take a falcon and get to Mistwood," Dad instructed, his voice steady. "Tell Guenwhyvar the war is won, and the children are safe."

The scout nodded and quickly prepared one of the great birds. Within moments, the falcon was in the air, its wings cutting through the night as it raced toward Mistwood with the crucial news.

Dad watched the bird disappear into the darkness before turning back to us. His gaze softened slightly, though the intensity remained. "Now, let’s prepare for what comes next."

After ensuring Queen Celia was in Aunt Siri's care, Dad turned to me, his expression unreadable. He held out his hand, and I knew immediately what he wanted. Wordlessly, I pulled the crossbow pistol and the remaining darts from my belt and handed them over. I had taken it from Dad’s armory, knowing he didn’t use it anymore. But the look on his face told me that didn’t matter.

Without a word, he walked over to the campfire and, with a single motion, tossed them into the flames. I watched as the flames quickly consumed the wood and leather, the crackling of the fire the only sound between us. I could feel the others watching too, their eyes flicking between me and the fire. They knew I was taking the brunt of the trouble for what we’d done, and that this was more than just about the weapon.

When Dad turned back to me, his eyes were hard, but there was something else there too—something deeper. He held my gaze for a moment before speaking, his voice low but intense. “Ash, do you think you’d be so brave, so ready to lead your cousins into danger, without that weapon?”

I hesitated, but I knew I had to answer honestly. “If I felt it was needed of me, and they were willing to follow, I would lead them just like I did tonight.” My voice was steady, respectful. “We didn’t leave home planning to go all the way into Felderia. But we saw an opportunity that no one else could see, so we took it.”

Dad studied me for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. There was something in his eyes—pride, maybe?—but he didn’t let it show in his words. Finally, he nodded, a slow, almost reluctant gesture. But there was a new understanding between us, something unspoken yet clear. He realized I wasn’t going to stop. And maybe, deep down, he knew this was partly his doing, having insisted on our training from such a young age.

“Set up your tent and get to bed,” Dad ordered, his voice firm but no longer angry. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

I glanced over at Artyom, who nodded and moved to unpack the tent from his pack. The rest of us followed his lead, moving quietly as we began setting up for the night. The weight of what had happened still hung in the air, but for now, there was nothing more to say. We’d face whatever came next when the sun rose.

THE NEXT MORNING

The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when the camp stirred to life. After a night spent grappling with the weight of our actions, I stepped out of the tent, feeling the chill of the early morning air. My cousins were already up and busy. The camp was bustling, the smell of smoke and cooked food mixing with the earthy scent of the forest.

Artyom was by the fire, cooking breakfast for all of us—scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns, his usual specialties. Sirisi was with Aunt Siri, helping to tend to the wounded. She’s always been good at that, her gentle nature making her a perfect fit for the task. Euros was already in Uncle Cydroc’s workshop, helping him repair one of the damaged arcane cannons from the battle. Even though everyone was busy, the weight of last night’s events hung over me like a heavy cloak.

I found myself sitting next to the fire where Artyom was cooking. The sizzle of bacon and the comforting aroma of scrambled eggs filled the air, but I barely noticed. My mind was too occupied, replaying the events of the previous night over and over.

I poked absently at the dirt with a stick, trying to make sense of it all. Dad’s reaction had been so different from anything I’d seen before. He’d always been steady, unflinching in the face of danger. But last night, when he took the crossbow pistol and threw it into the fire, there was something else in his eyes—something I never expected to see. Fear.

Dad had known about the things I "borrowed" from the armory. He’d known about the crossbow too. But for him to react by destroying a weapon he’d taken from his own father’s armory in Felynafay… That was something different. He wasn’t just angry—he was scared. Scared that my actions, fueled by his stories and the thrill of adventure, had pushed me to risk not only my life but the lives of my cousins too.

That realization sat heavy in my chest. I’d never thought about it that way before, but now I couldn’t escape it. The responsibility I’d taken on, leading my cousins into danger, weighed on me like never before.

“Hey,” Artyom’s voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see him holding out a plate of food. “You need to eat.”

I managed a small smile and took the plate, though my appetite was almost nonexistent. I picked at the food, my mind still turning over the events of the night.

Dad came over after a while, holding a wooden box. I recognized the Nightwing Armory logo on the lid. Without a word, he sat down beside me and set the box on the ground between us. His expression was hard to read, and it made my stomach tighten with a mix of curiosity and anxiety.

“Go on, open it,” he said quietly, his tone softer than I expected.

I hesitated for a moment before lifting the lid. Inside was a finely crafted pistol, much more advanced than the crossbow I’d been using. The barrel was long and narrow, with subtle engravings, and the name "House De'Endar" was etched along its length. The polished wooden grip was adorned with intricate carvings that caught the light, making the weapon look as much a piece of art as it was a tool.

“This was made by your Uncle Cydroc,” Dad explained, breaking the silence. “It was meant for me, but I prefer my old Nightwing revolver. So, I’m passing it on to you.”

I ran my fingers over the smooth wood before picking up the pistol, feeling its weight in my hand. After a moment, I carefully set it back into the box, not quite sure what to do next.

Dad nodded, then picked up the pistol himself. “This pistol uses a stripper clip loading system,” he explained, taking a loaded clip from the box. He placed the clip on top of the gun and pushed the rounds down into the internal magazine. Once the rounds were loaded, he removed the empty clip and placed it back into the box, where there was a designated area for two loaded clips—one with real bullets, and the other with tranquilizer rounds. “These clips can be reused, so keep them safe,” he added.

He then explained the ammunition. “This uses a discarding sabot mechanism. The sabot casing encases the tranquilizer dart, providing stability as it’s fired. Once the round exits the barrel, the sabot separates from the dart, allowing it to continue toward the target with greater accuracy and velocity.”

I watched closely as he showed me the unloading mechanism. “To unload, you need to engage the safety and rotate it. This ensures the gun is safe to handle and that you intend to unload it. Once the safety is engaged, cover the top of the gun with your hand to catch the rounds as they pop out. Then, you can pull the trigger forward, and the rounds will come out into your hand instead of scattering everywhere.”

I nodded, taking it all in. This wasn’t just a weapon—it was a responsibility, one that Dad was trusting me with.

After unloading the pistol, Dad handed it to me along with the loose rounds. I could see how the stripper clip was designed to be reloaded, so I carefully placed each round into the clip, feeling the weight of the responsibility with every click as they snapped into place.

As I held the pistol, Uncle Cydroc came over, holding a small bundle. He handed it to me—a box of real bullets, a few boxes of tranquilizer rounds, along with some spare empty clips, and a finely crafted leather holster. The holster was designed to fit snugly around the pistol, with two belt pouches attached. Each pouch had a distinctively shaped button, so I could feel which one I was opening and grab the ammo I needed without hesitation.

“These bullets are only for when you absolutely need them,” Uncle Cydroc said, his tone serious. “I’ve given you plenty of tranquilizer rounds, and these pouches will help you keep them handy. Make sure you always know which clip you’re reaching for.”

I accepted the bundle, nodding as I took in my uncle’s words. This wasn’t just about having a new weapon—it was about being trusted with something far greater.

Carefully, I equipped the holster, adjusting it so that it sat snugly against my side. Then, I loaded the stripper clips with ammunition, placing the tranquilizer rounds in one pouch and the real bullets in the other, making sure I could easily distinguish between them by touch. With the clips securely in place, I loaded the pistol with tranquilizer sabot rounds and slid it into the holster, feeling the weight of it settle against me.

I packed the pistol’s box, along with the remaining ammunition and spare clips, into my backpack. It all fit neatly, as if this space had always been meant for something this important. The responsibility of it all weighed heavily on me, but I was ready to carry it.

The morning continued, and before long, Dad was gathering his officers, including Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice, and Aunt Siri. They led Queen Celia to the top of The Wall. My cousins and I followed, keeping a respectful distance, but staying close enough to see what would happen. As we reached the top, we stood back, out of the way, our hearts pounding as we watched the scene unfold.

EMBERSTONE WINS

The morning air was still, a stark contrast to the chaos that had engulfed The Wall just hours earlier. We stood back, out of the way, as Dad, Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice, and Aunt Siri led Queen Celia up onto The Wall. The tension was thick, a heavy weight pressing down on everyone present. Despite the calm that had settled, an undercurrent of uncertainty and anticipation buzzed through the air.

From our vantage point, I could see everything. The battlefield, once filled with the sounds of clashing swords and battle cries, was now eerily quiet. The Felderian soldiers stood motionless, their eyes fixed on King Hannibal, waiting for his command. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, and I knew my cousins felt it too.

King Hannibal stood at the forefront of his army, looking up at Dad, who held Queen Celia by the arm. Even from here, I could see the shock on his face as he realized what had happened. His wife, the Queen of Felderia, was in our hands.

He quickly masked his shock with anger. “Don’t harm her!” King Hannibal’s voice boomed across the battlefield, demanding rather than pleading. “General De'Endar, release my wife, and we might still find a way to end this without further bloodshed.”

Dad’s voice was steady, just like the way he held Queen Celia. “Queen Celia has been treated with the utmost respect,” he said, his words carrying across the silent battlefield. “Which is more than I can say for how your soldiers have treated ours.”

King Hannibal’s gaze hardened further. “If you harm her, General De'Endar, there will be no place safe for your family. My men will hunt you down, and you will beg for mercy you won’t receive.”

Dad didn’t flinch. “We have no intention of bringing harm to her. Unlike you, we don’t thrive on cruelty.”

King Hannibal sneered, trying to maintain his bravado. “Then why parade her like this? What do you want, General De'Endar? Power? Land? You think capturing her changes anything?”

Dad met his gaze with unwavering resolve. “This isn’t about power or land, Hannibal. This is about justice. Justice for the lives you’ve ruined, the families you’ve torn apart.”

As I listened, I noticed the way Dad referred to her as Queen Celia, treating her with a kind of respect, even as he used her as a bargaining chip. But King Hannibal—he kept calling her "my wife," like she was something he owned. The difference between them was stark, and it made me feel a strange kind of pride in Dad.

For a moment, King Hannibal seemed to falter, his eyes darting between Dad and Queen Celia. The weight of his situation was sinking in, but he wasn’t ready to concede. “You’re no better than us if you use her to get what you want,” he spat.

Dad’s expression didn’t change, but his voice grew colder. “We’re nothing like you, Hannibal. We don’t harm innocents to get what we want. But make no mistake—this ends now.”

King Hannibal’s confidence began to waver visibly as Dad’s words hit home. The reality of his position was sinking in, and the defiance in his eyes started to fade, replaced by something closer to fear.

Dad continued, with a sharpness that cut through the silence, “Your soldiers will disarm here at The Wall and return to their homes. And you, you will abdicate the throne. Felderia will no longer be ruled by a tyrant. The people of Felderia will choose their new leader through a vote—a leader who will represent the will of the people, not the ambitions of a single man.”

I watched as King Hannibal looked between Dad and Queen Celia, his face twisted with fear and uncertainty. He had no choice, and he knew it. His hand trembled as he finally let his weapon fall to the ground, the sound of it hitting the stone loud in the silence that followed.

“We will comply,” King Hannibal said, his voice weak, defeated. “Felderia will choose a new ruler, and my soldiers will disarm as you have demanded.”

For a moment, everything was still. Then, slowly, the Felderian soldiers began to lower their weapons, placing them on the ground in a gesture of surrender. I watched, a mix of relief and unease swirling inside me. We had played a part in this—no matter how small, we had helped bring about this moment.

“This is it,” I whispered, more to myself than to my cousins.

“They’re giving up,” Euros said beside me, his voice tinged with disbelief. “It’s really over.”

I watched the soldiers disarm, feeling a strange sense of finality. The battle was over, but the weight of what we’d done—of what we’d witnessed—settled heavily on my shoulders.

"They fought for their king, and now they have nothing," Euros said again, echoing his earlier thought.

Sirisi, her eyes on the soldiers, finally spoke, her voice quiet but resolute. “But they still have their homes and their lives,” she added.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as I watched the Felderian soldiers begin to retreat. Seeing them walking away from The Wall, away from Emberstone’s border, brought a small measure of relief. “They’re leaving,” I thought, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and peace at the sight.

King Hannibal, though defeated, maintained his dignity as he arranged for a heavily guarded transport to return Queen Celia to Felderia. I watched as Dad carefully handed her over to the Felderian soldiers. There was no harshness in his actions; instead, he treated her with a respect that even I noticed. Despite the victory, despite everything, I realized in that moment that the cost of war was always high.

Once Queen Celia was safely in the hands of her guards, Emberstonian soldiers moved onto the battlefield to collect the weapons left behind by the Felderian army. The clattering of swords and shields being gathered echoed across the now silent battlefield. We stayed where we were, watching as the soldiers worked methodically to remove the remnants of the battle.

I glanced over at Sirisi as she smiled at her mother, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. She’d been helping Aunt Siri around camp all morning, and I could see the sense of accomplishment on her face. Aunt Siri gave her a look that seemed to say she was proud, even if things weren’t quite over yet.

Sirisi noticed me watching and gave a small nod, as if to say we were all in this together.

Euros glanced at his mother, Aunt Malice, then back at the battlefield. His usual confident expression returned as a grin spread across his face. "We actually did it," he said, his voice filled with pride. "We helped end a war!"

Sirisi, standing next to her mother, couldn't hide the smile on her face. "I still can’t believe it," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We really made a difference."

Artyom, always calm and collected, had a grin of his own. "And we did it together," he added, his tone filled with a sense of accomplishment. "This is something we’ll remember forever."

I looked at my cousins, feeling the same surge of pride and excitement. "We made it through," I said, my voice steady but brimming with satisfaction. "And we did what no one else could."

As we stood there, watching the Felderian soldiers retreat and realizing what we had accomplished, a wave of pride washed over us. The war was over, and we had played a crucial role in ending it. The memory of this victory, and the bond we shared because of it, would stay with us forever.

Finally, Dad turned to us, a small smile playing on his lips as he mounted Korlis. “Now you get to go home and tell your mother what you did,” he said, his voice lighter now that the battle was over. “A messenger was sent to Mistwood last night with the news—they’ll be waiting for you.”

Uncle Cydroc grinned, adding, “I’m sure Aunt Katya will be thrilled to hear about your little adventure. I can already see her face.”

Aunt Malice, her usually stern voice softened with a rare hint of amusement, remarked, “You may have won a battle, but don’t expect to win the argument at home. I’d choose your words carefully when explaining this to Aunt Guenwhyvar.”

Aunt Siri chuckled softly, ever the calm presence. “I imagine Beocca will be waiting with a few words of wisdom for you all. Perhaps it’s best to let him speak first.”

I chuckled softly, imagining the look on Mom’s face when she heard about our adventure. I knew she’d have a lot to say, and I was already bracing myself for it.

Euros glanced at his mother, Aunt Malice, and I could see the relief in his eyes as he realized she wasn’t going to be too harsh on us. “We did it,” he thought, feeling a sense of pride mixed with respect for what was still to come.

Artyom grinned beside me, clearly feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Worth it," he thought, knowing that Aunt Katya would give him a stern talking-to, but also that it had been worth every moment.

As we stood there, still watching the scene unfold, I realized that the weight of our actions—of everything we had done and witnessed—was something we would carry with us for a long time. The war was over, but the memory of it, and the lessons we’d learned, would stay with us forever.

THE JOURNEY HOME

The late morning sun cast a warm light over the landscape as we began our march back to Mistwood. The battle at The Wall was over, and though we were victorious, the weariness of war weighed heavily on all of us. Dad led the way, riding Korlis, his eyes fixed forward, while we walked close behind. Blaze, Nimbus, Titan, and Aurelia flew above us, their wings occasionally blotting out the sunlight as they soared through the sky.

Traveling alongside us were the Dwarves of Oakenbrid City, their heavy armor clinking with every step. Among them was Magnus Oakenbrid, brother to King Ferrin, leading his squad of elite Shield Dwarves. Their presence was a constant reminder of the unity that had helped secure our victory.

The Elven snipers from Shore, who had fought with unmatched precision, had already mounted their giant birds—peregrine falcons, golden eagles, and harpy eagles—and flown home. Dad had insisted that the bulk of their army remain in Shore, ready to defend their homeland against any potential surprise attacks. The gnomes, their work done, had boarded their airships and headed back to their own lands, their small but powerful fleet now just a memory against the clouds.

The air was thick with a strange mix of relief and exhaustion. As we moved through the familiar fields and forests of Emberstone, I noticed how the birds were slowly returning to the trees, and the wind seemed to carry away the last traces of smoke from the battlefield. Even though the worst of it was behind us, the reality of what we had seen and done clung to us, like a shadow that wouldn’t quite let go.

By evening, we found a clearing near a stream and decided to make camp. The soldiers and dwarves quickly set up their tents, moving with the kind of practiced efficiency that showed just how many times they’d done this before. Artyom took charge of setting up our tent, making sure everything was secure and comfortable. We worked quietly, all of us still processing the events of the day.

After dinner, we gathered around the campfire, the flames casting warm, flickering light on our faces. The rolling hills of Emberstone surrounded us, the trees swaying gently in the night breeze. The dwarves huddled nearby, their low voices and hearty laughs adding a sense of camaraderie to the camp. I felt a deep exhaustion, but there was comfort in being together, surrounded by the sounds of the forest and the company of our allies.

Dad must have sensed that we needed something to take our minds off things because he began telling us a story from his past. His voice was calm, but I could tell this memory meant a lot to him.

“We were traveling from the cave that leads to Felynafay,” he began, “on our way to visit Zeerdrin in Alta Roc. It was a journey Korlis and I had made many times before, but this time was different.”

I leaned in closer, listening intently. Dad’s stories always had a way of drawing me in, making me feel like I was right there with him.

“As the Great Star began to dip below the horizon, and the lit-up trees of Alta Roc came into view in the distance, I heard an ungodly screechy roar and felt a stinging pain in my lower back, right below my pack. Korlis returned the roar with one of his own and turned sharply around to face the attacker as I let my eyes switch to the heat-sensing vision.”

Dad paused, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the details. I could almost feel the tension building in him as he relived the moment.

“As the creature came into view, my confusion was complete. It was something I had never seen before. The creature was big. It had the body of a lion with large leathery wings and a long tail with many barbs sticking out of it. The most striking feature was the creature’s almost human-like face, which seethed with unbridled fury as it screeched at us again. Its tail cracked like a whip, and I could see a barrage of barbs coming straight for us.”

The air around the campfire felt charged as we all imagined the terrifying sight.

“My back was burning from where I was hit, the barbs contained some sort of poison, and I could feel it spreading through my body. Somehow, the barbs tore through my shirt and cloak like they weren’t even there, ignoring the protection offered by my cuff links. This creature was magical in nature. ‘I’m hurt, Korlis…’ I gasped.”

Dad’s voice grew quieter, but the intensity didn’t fade. I could see the worry in his eyes, even though he was just retelling the story.

“Korlis roared again as the darts struck him and then dove forward, towards the beast. My mighty friend met the creature in mid-air, and soon they were entangled, tumbling through the sky.”

I held my breath, the image of Korlis and the manticore locked in battle filling my mind.

“I could feel the poison creeping along my back, but that was the least of my worries as we fell. Korlis didn’t relent; he kept fighting, determined to protect us both.”

Dad’s voice softened, a note of pride evident. “Just as I thought we were going to hit the ground, I heard a sharp snap, and suddenly Korlis spread his wings, and we swooped back upwards as Korlis roared triumphantly. I heard the creature crash into the trees below.”

A collective sigh of relief seemed to pass through us as Dad continued.

“‘Korlis, can you get us to Alta Roc?’ I gasped. The feeling in my legs was going, and I could feel the numbness creeping into my shoulders.”

“Korlis turned back towards Alta Roc and began to fly for the Elven city. ‘Not certain,’ he replied. ‘Many hits.’”

Dad’s hand moved to his pouch, as if reaching for something that wasn’t there. “I reached into a small pouch on my belt and retrieved a healing injector, my last one, and held it tight. ‘Durdrin? Nine?’ I asked into my communicator, but I got no response. We were too far apart. My back was screaming at me for the injection, to at least partially heal my wounds, but Korlis was hurt too. He could get us both to safety.”

Dad paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I said, ‘Korlis, we’re all alone out here. You gotta get us to Alta Roc…’ and then I stabbed him in the neck with the healing injector and quickly crushed the vial, injecting the dark red liquid into Korlis’s neck. It must have helped because he was able to shake off the sluggishness, and soon we were flying at nearly top speed for Alta Roc.”

“We made it just in time,” Dad finished, his voice growing quieter. “The numbness had taken my whole body, and as we landed, I slumped forward in the saddle, feeling like I was going to pass out.”

His eyes softened as he remembered the moment. “The last thing I heard before blacking out was one of the elf guards shouting, ‘Go get Lady Dardiana or Lord Iefyr. This is Prince Zeerdrin’s Drow father. He’s hurt.’”

Dad paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his voice filled with relief. “When I woke up, I was inside The Great Maple, lying in a comfortable bed. Zeerdrin was there, smiling, and I knew we were safe.”

The story left us all deep in thought. I glanced at Artyom, who was already sketching the scene, capturing the intensity of the battle on the page. “There’s a lot we can learn from this,” he murmured, not looking up from his work.

Euros nodded thoughtfully. “The way Korlis reacted so quickly… that’s something we could all strive for.”

Sirisi had been quietly listening, her eyes shining with a mix of emotions. The mention of Zeerdrin, her father, always made these stories special to her. Though she called him Uncle Masdrin, she knew he was technically her grandfather—a fact that was never hidden but just part of our unique family bonds. Dad loved being a grandfather, even if he didn’t like being called Grandpa, and that connection was something Sirisi cherished deeply.

“It’s amazing how much they trust each other,” she said quietly, reflecting on the bond between Dad and Korlis. “That kind of connection… it’s what keeps us strong.”

As the fire burned low, I could feel the weight of the day settling in. The rolling hills and woods of Emberstone surrounded us, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. We retreated to our tent, the lessons from Dad’s story echoing in my mind as I settled into my bedroll.

“We’ll be home soon,” I heard Artyom murmur as he closed his sketchbook and placed it beside him. His words carried a sense of reassurance, a reminder that our journey, though difficult, was nearly over.

The next morning, the camp stirred early. Artyom was the first to wake, quietly moving around to ensure everything was in order. He gently nudged me awake, his voice soft but firm.

“Come on, Ash. Time to get going.”

We worked together to break down the camp, moving efficiently, knowing that each step brought us closer to home. The sun was fully risen now, casting a warm glow over the landscape as we set out on the final leg of our journey.

The mood was lighter, filled with anticipation. Above us, our giant birds soared through the sky, leading the way back to Mistwood, back to the place we all longed to return to—home.

THE RETURN TO MISTWOOD

The sun was already climbing higher into the sky as we broke camp. My heart raced with anticipation—Mistwood was close, and I could feel the pull of home in every step I took. The others felt it too; our pace quickened without anyone needing to say a word. Above us, our giant birds soared through the sky, their vigilant eyes scanning the landscape below, ever watchful as we marched home with the army.

As soon as we landed at the Wall after capturing Queen Celia, Dad sent a messenger ahead to Mistwood. The messenger, riding a giant peregrine falcon, took off swiftly, the bird’s powerful wings carrying him through the night. He carried the news that the war was over and that we were safe, ensuring that the town would be ready for our arrival.

As we drew nearer to Mistwood, the towering gates came into view. The sight of a large crowd gathered to greet us made me pause. The imposing gates that had always seemed like a solid barrier now felt like they were inviting us in, welcoming us back with open arms.

I glanced at my cousins. Sirisi’s eyes widened as she spotted her father, Prince Zeerdrin, standing with the crowd. Euros caught my eye and gave a small nod, as if to say, We’ve got this. Artyom, clutching his sketchbook, smiled, his excitement showing despite his usual calm demeanor.

As we approached, I spotted Mom in the front of the crowd, her eyes searching through the ranks. When she saw Dad beside me, relief washed over her face, and she rushed forward. They met in a tight embrace, and then she kissed him—a long, passionate kiss that seemed to wash away all the fear and anxiety she had carried through the war. With her entire family home safe, the weight of worry finally lifted from her shoulders. The crowd around them cheered, giving them their moment.

When they finally parted, Mom turned her gaze to me, her expression softening with a mix of love and concern. She hurried over, wrapping me in a tight hug. The tension in her body told me just how deeply she had worried. I held her close, feeling the warmth of her arms around me and the steady beat of her heart.

"You had me worried sick, Ash," she said, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. There was relief in her gaze, but it quickly turned to something more stern. "You promised you'd be careful."

I felt a twinge of guilt. I knew I’d worried her, especially after I’d seen her crying back at the estate. My usual mischievous grin faded as I met her eyes. "Mom, I saw you crying, and it really got to me. I’ve only seen you like that when something really bad is happening. I couldn’t just sit around—I had to go make sure Dad was okay, so I could tell you. But when we got there… well, we figured we’d just bring them home."

Mom’s stern expression softened, and she sighed, pulling me into another hug. "I get it, Ash, but you promised not to go near the front lines. It was too dangerous. Just stick to what we agreed on next time, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and responsibility settle over me.

Nearby, I saw Aunt Katya holding Artyom tightly, her fur slightly bristling as she purred with deep relief. "You scare Mama, little one," she murmured, her voice carrying that familiar, slightly primitive edge. She nuzzled his face affectionately, her rough tongue brushing against his cheek as she licked him, grooming him like a mama cat caring for her kitten. "Brave, but must be more careful, yes?"

Artyom squirmed slightly under her attention but didn’t resist, knowing how much she needed this after all the worry. "I know, Mom. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help Auntie Guen," he said, his voice quieter, soothed by her comforting presence.

Katya’s eyes softened as she noticed his sketchbook tucked under his arm. "What you been drawin’, hmm? Show Mama."

Artyom opened the sketchbook to reveal the drawing of the carriage that Queen Celia had been in. "It’s the carriage we found Queen Celia in," he explained, his voice tinged with pride but still humble.

Katya’s face lit up with a proud smile as she examined his work, though the worry didn’t entirely leave her eyes. She nuzzled him again, her tail flicking back and forth as she spoke. "Good, good. But next time, you think twice, yes? Don’t want to lose you, my little artist."

Just then, Uncle Beocca stepped up beside them, a broad smile on his face. He ruffled Artyom’s hair affectionately, his pride unmistakable. "You did good, son. Really good. Just like your mom said, though—no more surprises, okay? Think things through first."

Artyom nodded, taking his father’s words to heart. "I promise, Dad. No more surprises."

I turned just in time to see Sirisi being pulled into a warm hug by Tinesi, with Prince Zeerdrin standing proudly beside them. They must have flown in as soon as they heard about what we did. Tinesi’s voice was filled with affection as she spoke. "Look at you, Sirisi. We’re so proud of everything you’ve done."

Prince Zeerdrin smiled warmly at his daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We couldn’t be prouder of you. You’ve shown such strength and courage."

As the crowd continued to cheer and celebrate, I felt the tension that had been hanging over all of us begin to lift. The war was over, and we were home. It wasn’t just the townsfolk who were celebrating; it was us too, letting go of the fear and the worry that had been our constant companions for so long.

The celebration didn’t end there. The town square was transformed into a grand feast. Long tables were set up, adorned with flowers and candles, with the evening sky providing a stunning backdrop. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, making my stomach growl in response. Banners bearing the Emberstone crest hung from every available surface. At the head of the celebration stood Papa Robin—Lord of Mistwood and King of Emberstone, but always Papa Robin to us. Despite his royal duties, he was still the same man who had watched over us, and that’s who we saw when we looked at him now.

Lord Robin, as the rest of the kingdom knew him, rose to address the crowd. His voice, though regal, was warm and filled with pride. "Tonight, we celebrate not just the end of a war, but the bravery and wisdom of those who brought peace to our lands. To the children who showed courage beyond their years, and to their parents who have long stood as protectors of this realm—tonight, we honor you."

The applause and cheers that followed were almost overwhelming. I exchanged glances with Artyom, Euros, and Sirisi, and we all smiled, a little embarrassed but proud nonetheless. As I looked at each of them, I felt the bond we shared—stronger than ever after everything we’d been through. We didn’t need words to know what we were thinking: we did it, together.

The feast began in earnest, and the townsfolk did their best to outdo themselves, offering us the best of Mistwood’s harvest. The giant birds—Blaze, Nimbus, Titan, and Aurelia—were given their own special treats, admired by everyone present. Their loyalty and strength had been as crucial as our own efforts, and I could see how much they enjoyed the attention.

Even Korlis and Felynica were honored. During the war, Felynica had been the swift messenger who carried crucial messages between Mistwood and The Wall, ensuring that Dad and the others knew what was happening. Meanwhile, Korlis had fought fiercely alongside Dad, his strength and loyalty turning the tide in several key battles. Seeing them both honored alongside us made me realize just how much of a team effort everything had been.

As the night went on, the celebrations grew louder, but there were quiet moments too. Moments when I caught my cousins’ eyes and knew they were feeling the same thing I was—relief, pride, but also the weight of everything we’d been through. We were heroes now, but that didn’t change the fact that the world was still a dangerous place.

In those reflective moments, I knew that we were stronger for what we had faced, but also that we’d need to stay vigilant. The war was over, but the world was still out there, waiting for us. I thought back to all we’d been through—the fear when we first faced the Felderians, the determination that had driven us to rescue our parents—and I knew that while this chapter was ending, another was just beginning. And whatever came next, we’d face it together.

AFTERNOON REFLECTIONS

The sun was high in the sky as we gathered at the shooting range near the river. The gentle sound of the water flowing beside us mixed with the occasional crack of gunfire. It was a peaceful day, just a couple of days after the big feast in Mistwood. Things had finally started to feel normal again, and we were all settling back into our usual routines.

I stood at the shooting line, gripping my pistol with one hand, my other hand relaxed at my side. Sirisi was beside me, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she used her psionics to move the targets in unpredictable patterns. They’d pop up or slide sideways at random, keeping me on my toes. Every shot I fired was a test of my reflexes and aim. Behind the targets, the berm stood tall, a constant reminder of the importance of safety. I knew every bullet would end up buried safely in that earthen wall.

“Ready for the next round?” Sirisi asked, glancing at me with a small smirk. She was definitely making this tougher, but that was the point.

“Bring it on,” I replied, adjusting my stance. The targets began their dance again, popping up and zipping around unpredictably. I managed to hit most of them, but a few slipped by. Still, I could feel myself getting better—faster, more precise.

When I emptied the magazine, I quickly reloaded my pistol using a fresh stripper clip, sliding the rounds into the fixed magazine. As I completed the reload, I couldn’t help but glance over at Artyom and Euros. They were sitting on a blanket nearby, each absorbed in their own tasks. Artyom had his colored pencils out, adding the final touches to a drawing. From where I stood, I could make out the image of our giant maple tree, the one that held our treehouse.

“What’re you drawing this time?” I called over, curious.

Artyom looked up, smiling softly. “Our treehouse,” he said, holding up the picture. “With the birds’ nests, too.”

I nodded in approval. “Looks great.”

Euros, meanwhile, was working with a pistol just like mine, spread out in pieces in front of him. He was carefully disassembling and reassembling the pistol, making sure he understood every part of it.

“How’s it coming, Euros?” I asked, giving him a nod as I finished reloading.

“Pretty well,” Euros replied, not looking up from his work. “Just making sure I know how to fix it—or yours—if anything ever goes wrong.”

He finished reassembling the pistol for what must have been the third or fourth time, then carefully tucked the fully assembled pistol into his pack. “Better to be prepared,” he added with a small smile.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind us. Turning slightly, I saw Mom and Dad walking toward us, carrying a basket between them. Mom’s face lit up when she saw me, and Dad gave me a nod, his usual quiet pride shining through.

“Thought you might be hungry,” Mom called out as they reached us. She set the basket down, revealing a spread of snacks—some of the best from the feast, no doubt. “Taking a break?” she asked, her tone gentle but knowing.

“Maybe after one more round,” I said, grinning.

Dad chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How about a little competition then?” he suggested, taking a step forward. The challenge in his voice was impossible to resist.

I nodded eagerly. “You’re on.”

We both lined up, and Sirisi set the targets in motion again. I gave it my all, hitting each target with careful precision. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dad was matching me, shot for shot, but something felt off. It didn’t take long for me to realize he was slowing down, just enough to let me stay ahead.

When the last target fell, I barely edged him out. But instead of feeling victorious, I turned to him with a playful grin. “Aww, come on, Dad... show us what you can really do!”

Dad raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice teasing.

I nodded, stepping back to give him space. “Sirisi, make it tough,” I said, glancing at her.

With a smile, Dad reloaded his revolver and asked Sirisi to make the target movements faster and more unpredictable. He then took his stance, focusing intensely.

Then, in a blur of motion, he fired six shots in rapid succession. Each bullet found its mark perfectly, one after another, until all the targets were down. The sound of the last shot echoed through the air, and we all stood there, momentarily speechless.

Dad, knowing his revolver was now empty, performed a quick, skillful flourish with the gun, spinning it once before smoothly sliding it into his holster with a satisfied smile. I carefully secured my own pistol in its holster, keeping in mind that I still had two rounds left—one in the chamber. Safety first.

“That’s how it’s done,” Dad said, his voice warm with pride.

We all broke into cheers and laughter. I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Watching Dad in action was like seeing a master at work, and it reminded me of how much I still had to learn. But it also made me want to get better, to keep pushing myself until I could match him shot for shot, without any holding back.

Mom handed out the snacks, and we all settled down by the riverbank. The sun was still well above the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the water. As we sat there, munching on the treats and chatting about the day’s events, I felt a deep sense of contentment. This was what we fought for—these moments of peace, surrounded by the people we cared about.

I looked over at Artyom’s drawing again. The giant maple tree, the treehouse nestled in its branches, and the birds’ nests all seemed to glow in the late afternoon light. It was perfect. Just like today.

The light softened slightly, casting long shadows without changing the bright colors of the day. We stayed by the river, talking and laughing, the sounds of nature blending with our voices. The day was winding down gently, leaving us with the warmth of the late afternoon.

As I laid back on the cool grass, feeling its gentle embrace beneath me, I let out a contented sigh. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new adventures. But for now, everything was exactly as it should be. A bright, happy late afternoon by the river, surrounded by family, with the promise of more days like this ahead.