1st Lt. Rader Tarfire sat in the command vehicle, Alpha 1, his eyes fixed on the JCVAIL screen. The forward-deployed drones transmitted detailed images of the ancient Elven Road winding toward the main road that led to the small village of Mirra. Under the moonlit sky, the pathway seemed deceptively peaceful, its stones gleaming in the soft light. But Tarfire knew better—Mirra was not untouched by war.

The Austorian Empire had attacked the village a week prior, leaving uncertainty in their wake. Although Mirra held little strategic value for the Austorians, its proximity to the road leading to the Loyta-Nal Kingdom made it essential to the Beastkin's mission. It was the closest refueling point for the BUA Tiltrotors en route to the Red Tower.

“Alright, everyone, listen up," Tarfire’s voice crackled over the internal comms. "The Elven Plains ahead are wide open. We’ve got very limited cover, so use whatever you can find. This mission is critical, and we need to adapt on the fly. The village of Mirra was hit by the Austorians a week ago. Expect casualties and possible remnants of the enemy."

He tapped a few buttons, sending the drone feed to everyone’s screens. The monitors flickered to life, revealing the vast Elven Plains ahead and the small, silent village of Mirra in the distance. The devastation from the recent assault was visible—collapsed buildings, scorch marks on the ground, and rubble strewn across the once-beautiful village. "Mirra is our next stop," Tarfire continued. "It’s been hit, but it’s vital for our operation. It’s the closest point for our Tiltrotors to refuel before hitting the Red Tower. Once we secure the village, we’ll set up the Forward Arming and Refueling Point (FARP). Stay sharp. This place may look abandoned, but we’re expecting anything."

The comms fell silent as the soldiers absorbed the update.

"One more thing," Tarfire added, his tone serious. "The inbound helos have a two-part mission: destroy the slaver collar warehouse near the Red Tower and rescue two high-priority hostages. We cannot fail. And for those on the UTV team with Hero Blake, your mission is no less critical. Your transport will take Blake and the Seraphim to the Kingdom of Loyta-Nal for diplomatic negotiations. Stay focused."

As the convoy rolled forward, the tension grew thicker. The village of Mirra loomed ahead, a ghost of its former self.

Two infantry fighting vehicles took up positions at the entrance, blocking the main road and securing the perimeter.

Staff Sergeant Rudus Wellknife’s voice barked through the comms. "Set up that roadblock! 1st and 2nd squads, secure the perimeter. 3rd and 4th squads; start clearing the village. I want eyes on every street and alleyway. Go!"

The infantry teams spread out, moving cautiously through the streets of Mirra. The village was eerily quiet, the aftermath of the Austorian attack still fresh. The smell of smoke and death lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of blood and decay.

Corporal Jax Ironclaw led a small team toward a row of damaged houses. Kicking open the door of the first house, his weapon flashlight cut through the gloom. Inside, overturned furniture and shattered glass was on the floor, a blood smear trailed off into another room. Jax signaled to his team to move and set up on the door. In a single powerful kick, the door flew open, a noxious smell flooded out. Jax’s light then illuminated the source, on the floor lay the bodies of a family—an older elf couple and what looked like their grown children.

Private Lir Stormfur covered his mouth. "Gods... they never made it out." The smell overpowered him and caused him to run out retching.

Jax knelt beside them, checking for signs of life, though he already knew the answer. "Alpha1 this is Echo 3-3-1. No signs of Austorian soldiers here, just dead civilians. Looks like they tried to put up a fight but failed." He called into Tarfire.

“Understood, continue your sweep, we will morn them later.” Tarfire said, with a stoic voice.

Jax stood and gestured to the rest of the squad. "Clear the other houses. There could be more."

Further down the street, Sergeant Dorne Blackpaw led his team into a back alley where the stench of death was overwhelming. As they turned the corner, they were met with a grisly sight—dozens of older elves and elderly citizens, slumped against walls or lying face down in the dirt. Their bodies were cold and stiff, their eyes vacant.

“Alpha 1, this is Echo 3-3-2, We found bodies in the alley, near the middle of the city. No Survivors, continuing sweep.”

“Echo 3-3-2, this is Alpha 1, understood, continue sweep.” Rader stated, his face beginning to drain of blood. No Survivors, so what good is this food and supplies if no one is alive? He thought angerly as he punched the top of his truck.

"Sweet mother of the gods…" Blackpaw muttered, stepping closer to inspect.

"They couldn’t even fight back. They were stabbed and just left here to die." Private Harin Darkfur swallowed hard.

"Looks like the Austorians cleared out the young and healthy, and executed all of the rest." Blackpaw spat into a corner while shaking his head. He signaled to the rest of his men.” We’re moving on to check the rest of the village, maybe, just maybe someone is still alive here."

The village of Mirra was eerily silent, save for the crunch of boots on the rubble-strewn streets as the Beastkin soldiers continued their methodical search. Sergeant Wellknife's squad had split up to check the intact homes while others cleared the burnt-out shells of buildings.

As they entered one house, its exterior scorched but the interior mostly intact, Private Harin Darkfur motioned for his team to follow. The air inside the house was thick with the smell of burnt wood and ash, the silence oppressive. Darkfur pushed open a door that led to a back room, scanning for any signs of life. His weapon mounted flashlight flickered across overturned furniture and scattered belongings.

"Clear so far," Darkfur muttered, moving forward.

He was about to exit the room when he paused, his sharp hearing catching the faintest sound—a soft rustle, like fabric brushing against wood. He signaled for his partner, Private Voss Blackpaw, to follow him toward a large wardrobe in the corner. With a firm hand, he pushed it aside, revealing a hidden door. Darkfur motioned for Voss to take point as he unlatched the hidden door.

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As it creaked open, the room beyond was revealed—a small, cramped space where three elven children and a teenage female elf were huddled. The teenager's eyes blazed with fury and desperation.

Before Darkfur could react, she lunged at him with a hunting dagger, an elven surkia knife. The blade flashed in the dim light, and Darkfur barely managed to twist away as the knife cut through the air.

"OH Shit!" Darkfur yelled, struggling to keep the knife from finding his throat as the girl screamed at him in rapid Elvish, her words harsh and filled with anger. The strength of her attack surprised him, knocking him to the ground. She was determined, her knife inches from his neck as she fought with everything she had.

"She’s got a Knife!! Someone get her off me!!!" Darkfur shouted, using all his strength to keep her from gutting him.

Sergeant Wellknife, hearing the commotion, sprinted into the room. His eyes widened as he saw the teenager fighting like a cornered animal. In a sharp voice, he barked at her in fluent Elvish. The sudden command startled the girl, her furious movements pausing for just a second.

That moment was enough for Darkfur to twist the knife from her grip, disarming her and in a rapid move, pinned her to the floor. She thrashed beneath him, still screaming, but the fight was beginning to drain from her.

Wellknife crouched down beside her, speaking in Elvish, his voice softer now. "It's okay. You're safe now. We’re not here to hurt you."

The girl’s chest heaved as she glared up at him, but her screams quieted into ragged breaths. She looked over at the children, who were sobbing uncontrollably, huddled together in the corner of the hidden room. Slowly, she nodded, her body going limp as she realized they weren’t the Austorian soldiers she had feared.

Darkfur, breathing heavily, got off her but kept his hands ready in case she tried anything. "Thanks, Sergeant... I thought she was going to slit my throat."

Wellknife offered him a tight smile as he picked up the discarded Elven blade. "That’s a Surkia, this would take your head clean off if she got you with it. Let's get them out of here." He motioned to Darkfur and Blackpaw to help the family out of the small room.

“Echo 6 Actual, this is Echo 3-3-2, we completed the sweep. No one else is alive. We searched everywhere we could, there is no one here but the dead.”

The children, terrified and clutching each other, were coaxed out of the room by Darkfur and Blackpaw.

Sergeant Wellknife’s voice crackled over the comms. "Alpha1, this is Echo 6 Actual. We’ve found some live ones. A teenager, baby and two children." Tarfire’s voice came through, somber. "Copy that, Echo 6 Actual. Secure the area and begin burial preparations. We can't leave the dead like this. Bring the civilians to the command truck for the Medic to take a look at them."

As they left the house, the children clung to their older sister, unwilling to let go as they sobbed into her clothes. As they walked toward the command vehicle, the teenage girl remained silent, eyes darting suspiciously at the Beastkin soldiers around her.

Echo company moved back into the Roadblock as Wellknife and some of his men went to Alpha 2 and 3 to retrieve the body bags from the back. In minutes the unit began the hard task of burying the dead.

Back at the convoy, Corporal Thessa Brightclaw, the team's medic, was notified about the discovery of live civilians. She rushed over to the command vehicle, her medical bag slung across her shoulder. The children, visibly shaken and clinging to their sister, recoiled slightly when they saw her approach.

"It's okay," Thessa said in a gentle tone, kneeling down to their level. "I'm just here to check if you're all alright."

To the teenage Elf and Thessa’s surprise, Lt. Tarfire knelt down and translated Thessa's words into Elvish, but the children remained hesitant, their small bodies trembling as they clung tightly to their sister.

Thessa moved carefully, her hands soft and slow as she began her examination. "You're doing great," Thessa reassured them, though they flinched when she touched them. "I'm just going to look at your hands and arms. You're safe now."

The boy, the eldest of the three children, glanced at his sister for reassurance before allowing Thessa to touch his arm. As she gently prodded his skin, checking for cuts and bruises, he whispered something in Elvish to his sister. The teenage girl nodded, murmuring soothing words to him. The youngest, a toddler girl, whimpered and refused to let go of her mother, even as Thessa tried to examine her.

Thessa smiled gently and said, "That's okay, sweetie. We can do this together." The teenage girl translated, and the toddler slowly loosened her grip.

As Thessa examined her, she found small cuts and bruises, evidence that the children had been cramped in the hidden room for a long time.

"They’re lightly malnourished and dehydrated," Thessa noted, speaking to Tarfire "They’ll need water and some light food—nothing too heavy."

The teenage girl, watching Thessa work, whispered something to the children. Slowly, they began speaking to Thessa in soft Elvish, their voices timid but curious.

Thessa chuckled, realizing they thought she could understand them. "I wish I could speak Elvish," she said with a smile. "But it sounds like you're feeling a little better now."

She patted the boy on the shoulder, offering him some electrolyte water and a small bowl of soup. "Here, drink this slowly. It'll help." The boy hesitated but took a sip, his eyes never leaving his older sister.

The toddler, still shy, took small drinks of the soup, staying close to her family.

While Thessa cared for the children, Lt. Tarfire spoke with the teenage girl. Her eyes, once fierce, were now clouded with exhaustion and wariness.

"Who are you?" Rader asked softly, switching to Elvish.

"My name is Lythia," she replied quietly, glancing at the children. "These are my siblings—Leiran and Alisara." She pointed to the boy and one of the girls, then placed a protective hand on the toddler. "This is my daughter, Lysiel."

"What happened here?" Tarfire asked, his tone respectful but firm.

Lythia’s face tightened. "The Austorians came… about a week ago. They rounded up most of the villagers—those who could work or they could “use”. The old and infirmed, they… killed them." Her voice trembled. "My mother and father hid us… my siblings and I, with Lysiel. We thought we were going to die in that room." She shifted in her seat “Please let the soldier that I mistakenly attacked that I’m sorry, but can I have my knife back? It’s a family heirloom.”

“No problem, I’ll get it back for you, oh never mind.” He said as Wellknife walked up, the surkia in his hand.

“Thanks, Wellknife, I’ll take that.” Rader stated pointing at the knife.

Wellknife gave the surkia to him.

“I would suggest not use it against us, ok?” Rader said with a smile.

“Thank you.” she said sheepishly.

Tarfire’s jaw clenched. "You’re safe now. We’ll get you and your family out of here."

Brightclaw finished her examination and joined the conversation. "They’re stable but malnourished and dehydrated. They are fine for now, but we need to get them out of here as soon as we can, sir."

Tarfire nodded and translated what the Medic had told him to Lythia in Elvish.

Lythia nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Thessa glanced at Tarfire, lowering her voice. "Sir, what do we do with them? I recommend sending them back to Runshilla with Archer 2-8-3. The transport’s heading back empty once it refuels at the FARP."

Tarfire nodded in agreement. "Do it. Get them on that transport as soon as it arrives."

The sound of shovels scraping dirt filled the air as soldiers worked quickly to bury the dead elves. The solemn task weighed heavily on them, but it was interrupted by a new development.

Tarfire’s voice came through the comms again, more urgent. "Heads up, team. Drones have spotted a caravan heading our way—ten ox-drawn covered wagons. No visible soldiers or cavalry, but it could be a ruse. Prepare for contact."

The infantry halted their burial efforts and took up defensive positions, their rifles ready. The creaking of wooden wheels and the lowing of oxen grew louder as the caravan slowly approached. In the dim moonlight, the outlines of the wagons became visible, their drivers hunched over and shrouded in cloaks.

Sergeant Wellknife moved among his men, inspecting their positions and ensuring they were ready for anything. His voice was calm but firm. "Stay sharp. This could be an Austorian trick. Let them come to us but be ready to engage if necessary."

The tension was palpable as the caravan rolled closer, the mystery of its intentions hanging in the air.