For the next few days, Estelle busied herself with tasks around the shelter, trying to keep her mind occupied. Yet, no matter what she did, her thoughts kept drifting back to the device they had retrieved during the last reconnaissance mission. There was something about it—an odd sense of familiarity that she couldn't quite place. It nagged at her, lurking at the edge of her consciousness like a forgotten memory struggling to resurface.
But routine of life in the shelter continued, with Estelle helping wherever she could—sorting supplies, assisting with repairs, and even lending a hand in the infirmary. The resistance members had grown accustomed to her presence, and she found herself more welcomed with each passing day.
One afternoon, as she was carrying a crate of supplies to one of the storage rooms, she noticed a small group of unfamiliar faces making their way purposefully through the shelter. They walked with the confidence of people who knew where they were going, heading straight toward Alaric’s office. Estelle paused, her curiosity piqued. She hadn’t seen them before, and their presence seemed out of the ordinary.
She set the crate down and turned to a fellow resistance member who was working alongside her, a young man with a scruffy beard and tired eyes. “Who are they?” she asked casually, nodding in the direction of the group.
The man glanced up, following her gaze. “Them? They’re messengers from another cell,” he replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "It's rare to see them come out of schedule like this, though. Usually, these meetings are planned well in advance, and they stick to the timetable."
Estelle nodded, filing the information away. She could sense the tension in the air, a subtle shift in the shelter's atmosphere that hadn't been there before. Something was up, but she knew better than to pry too deeply. Instead, she returned to her work, pushing aside her questions.
But it wasn’t long before Alaric began summoning people to his office, and her name was on the list. The urgency in the summons was unmistakable, and a sense of unease settled in her stomach as she made her way through the winding corridors of the shelter.
When she reached Alaric’s office, she found a small group already gathered there—familiar faces mixed with the unfamiliar messengers she had seen earlier. Alaric stood at the head of the room, his expression tense and focused. The atmosphere was charged, and Estelle could tell that whatever had brought the messengers here was serious.
Alaric’s eyes flicked to her as she entered, and he gave a brief nod before addressing the group. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. We have a situation that requires immediate attention.”
The room fell silent, every eye fixed on Alaric as he continued. “We’ve received intel that one of our key leaders, captured by the regime, is set to be transported to the capital for a public execution. This transport will pass through a route that brings it dangerously close to our shelter.”
A murmur of concern rippled through the group, and Estelle felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The idea of rescuing someone so close to the shelter was both an opportunity and a significant risk.
“I’m aware this might be a trap,” Alaric said, his tone grave, “but it’s a risk we have to take. This leader is invaluable to our cause, and we can’t let the regime make an example of him. That’s why I’ve summoned our most capable fighters and squads for this mission.”
Alaric’s gaze swept across the room, resting briefly on each member of the assembled group before he continued. “I’ll be leading this mission myself.”
Dante and Iris exchanged startled glances. Alaric turned to them, his voice firm. “Dante, Iris, I need you to stay behind and take care of the shelter. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be in charge.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, and both Dante and Iris looked stunned. Iris’s expression tightened, but she nodded reluctantly, understanding the importance of Alaric’s command. Dante, however, was less willing to accept it.
“With all due respect, Alaric, I’m not staying behind,” Dante protested, his voice firm. “I’m going with you, no matter what. You’re going to need all the help you can get out there.” There was a note of urgency in his voice, and Estelle couldn’t help but notice the brief glance Dante shot in her direction.
Alaric’s gaze hardened, meeting Dante’s determined stare. “Dante, I need you here. This isn’t a request.”
But Dante shook his head, his jaw set in defiance. “I’m going, Alaric. You know I won’t back down from this. We’re stronger together.”
The room was tense as the two men stared each other down, but Alaric saw the resolve in Dante’s eyes and knew it would be futile to continue arguing. After a long moment, he sighed and nodded. “Alright, Dante. You’re coming with us. But if you’re joining, I’ll need to assign someone else to stay behind with Iris.”
He quickly turned to one of the seasoned fighters in the room, giving them the responsibility of coordinating shelter defenses with Iris in their absence. With that settled, Alaric shifted the focus back to the mission at hand.
“Now, listen closely,” Alaric said as he laid out a map on the table, detailing the planned ambush. “We’ll be combining forces with other cells to ensure we have the manpower to pull this off. The key will be striking hard and fast, taking them by surprise before they can call for reinforcements.”
He pointed out various positions on the map, where squads would be stationed, and the timing of the ambush. Estelle listened intently, but her attention wavered as Alaric began showing pictures of key regime enforcers they might face. One by one, images of notorious fighters flashed before her—faces she knew all too well.
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Dark Hunters.
Her breath caught as she recognized them: faces of those Aeths who had terrorized the people in her world, ruthless and skilled beyond measure. Vayne’s face appeared among them, his maniacal grin sending a wave of unease through her.
Alaric continued explaining the mission, describing the tactics these enemies were known for and how best to counter them. Estelle could feel the tension mounting in the room as everyone absorbed the information. This would be no ordinary mission—it would be a battle against some of the most dangerous individuals they had ever faced.
Finally, after laying out the details, Alaric dismissed the group. “Rest well tonight. We move out before dawn. We’ll need everyone at their best.”
As the group dispersed, Estelle felt the weight of the upcoming mission settling on her shoulders. She would need to be ready—not just to fight, but to face the demons of her past that had resurfaced in this world.
She caught a glimpse of Dante, his face still set in determination, and Iris, who looked worried but resigned.
As they walked back toward the living quarters, she caught sight of Lydia through the open door of the infirmary. Lydia glanced up and met Estelle’s eyes. As Estelle gave her a small smile, Lydia’s expression softened. But the concern in her eyes remained, she knew better than anyone how fragile life could be.
Despite Alaric’s advice to rest, Estelle found herself unable to quiet her mind. The weight of the upcoming mission, the memories—old and new, and the strange familiarity of the device they had retrieved all swirled in her thoughts, refusing to let her find peace. The more she tried to rest, the more restless she became.
Eventually, Estelle decided she needed fresh air—something to clear her mind and help her focus. The shelter, though safe and secure, felt stifling at times, its stone walls closing in on her. She made her way through the winding corridors, passing by resistance members who were either resting or preparing for the mission ahead. She offered them nods of acknowledgment but kept moving, not wanting to engage in conversation.
Finally, she reached the entrance of the shelter, the cool night air greeting her as she stepped outside. The world above was a stark contrast to the underground labyrinth of the shelter—open, expansive, and bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Estelle took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air as she walked into the woods surrounding the shelter.
The forest was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant call of an owl. The trees stood tall and still, their branches swaying slightly in the night air. The ground was soft beneath her feet, covered in a blanket of fallen leaves and moss. Estelle continued walking until she found a small clearing, where the moonlight filtered through the branches above, casting a silvery glow on everything around her.
She stopped in the center of the clearing, letting the stillness of the night wash over her. The moon hung high in the sky, its pale light illuminating the world below with a serene, almost ethereal quality. The stars twinkled faintly in the vast expanse above, their light dimmed by the brilliance of the moon.
Estelle closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of peace. The cool breeze caressed her face, and the scent of the forest—earthy and fresh—filled her lungs. For a brief moment, she felt the tension in her body ease, the worries that had been gnawing at her all day fading into the background.
Opening her eyes, Estelle gazed up at the moon, its light reflecting in her eyes. The moon had always been a source of comfort for her, a reminder that no matter how dark the night, there was always light to guide her way. It was a constant, unchanging presence.
But even as she embraced the calmness, a part of her couldn’t shake the unease inside. Still, Estelle knew that she couldn’t afford to dwell on those feelings. She had to be strong, for herself and for her siblings, and for everyone who was counting on her. The moon, with its steady, unwavering light, reminded her that she had faced darkness before and emerged stronger.
With a final glance at the moon, Estelle turned and began to make her way back to the shelter. The forest remained quiet, the night undisturbed by her presence. As she reached the entrance of the shelter, she took one last deep breath of the cool night air before stepping back inside. The warmth of the underground shelter enveloped her as she descended the stairs, and the familiar sounds of life within its walls greeted her once more.
It wasn’t long before the shelter was once again bustling with activity. The quiet calm of the night was replaced by the urgent movements of resistance members, all focused on the upcoming mission. Alaric, at the center of it all, was directing the preparations with practiced efficiency. The team needed to be ready to move out before daylight broke, ensuring that the ambush would catch the regime by surprise.
Estelle, now fully geared and ready, found herself among the gathered fighters. The tension in the air was palpable, each member of the team acutely aware of the risks they were about to take. Despite her resolve, she couldn’t help but feel a small knot of worry in her stomach.
As she scanned the group, Estelle breathed a small sigh of relief when she realized that Mira and Finn were nowhere to be seen. She knew that Iris must have kept them occupied, likely understanding the gravity of the situation and the emotional toll it might take on them if they knew the full extent of what was happening.
The team began to gather at the entrance of the shelter, their movements quiet and deliberate. Estelle kept her focus on the task ahead, but her eyes couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Lydia approaching Alaric and Dante. Lydia, ever the vigilant medic, handed each of them a small vial—potions she had likely prepared herself.
From where she stood, Estelle couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could see Lydia’s stern expression as she spoke to the two men. Her concern was clear, even if her words were out of earshot. Alaric nodded in response, his demeanor calm and reassuring, while Dante, though still focused on the mission, gave Lydia a brief, appreciative smile.
As Lydia finished speaking with Alaric and Dante, she turned to address the rest of the team. “All of you,” she called out, her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, “you’d better come back safely. If you don’t want to hear me nagging for the rest of your lives, you’ll do as I say.”
There was a moment of light laughter among the group, a brief respite from the tension. But beneath the humor, Estelle could sense the seriousness of Lydia’s words. The medic was known for her no-nonsense attitude, and her demand for their safe return was more than just a jest—it was a heartfelt plea. And she appreciated the medic’s dedication to their well-being, even if it was often delivered with a sharp tongue.
With the shelter fading behind them, the team marched into the darkness, their footsteps barely audible as they made their way through the woods. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the forest floor. Estelle kept her focus on the path ahead, her thoughts centered on the mission.
As they moved deeper into the forest, Estelle couldn’t help but glance back at Lydia’s retreating figure, now just a shadow against the shelter’s entrance. She couldn’t hear Lydia’s nagging now, but the medic’s words echoed in her mind: Come back safely.
It was a promise Estelle intended to keep.