"Do you think it'll work?" Kass' voice, a low murmur, barely rose above the rustle of leaves.

I glanced at her, her face etched with a mixture of fear and grim determination. "It has to," I replied, my voice firmer than I felt. Doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve, but I refused to let it show.

"What if we missed a calculation?" Isaac chimed in, his voice laced with a tremor of anxiety.

Finn snorted. "Relax, Doc. Kira's got a good head on her shoulders. Besides," he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, "haven't you always wanted to see one of my inventions go boom?"

A low growl rumbled from my stomach. Glancing around, I saw mirrored expressions on the faces of my companions.

"Anyone else hungry?" I asked, the question breaking the tension.

A wry smile flickered across Marcus’ lips. "Starving," he admitted, his voice raspy. "But I wouldn't trade this empty stomach for a warm meal back at the base right now."

Elyse, ever the enigma, remained silent, her gaze fixed on a point beyond the trees. But a flicker of something passed in her eyes, perhaps a hint of shared anxiety, or maybe just the faintest flicker of anticipation.

Finally, after what seemed like half an hour, a guttural caw broke through the stillness. "They're coming," Marcus muttered, his voice tense.

Adrenaline surged through me once more. We waited with bated breath, every tick of the second hand an excruciating eternity. According to my calculations, based on the number of carts and men expected, the supply line would be roughly 50 meters long and take approximately four minutes to traverse the entire gorge.

My mind raced, replaying the plan. Counting down the seconds in my head, I felt the weight of responsibility press down on me. Now.

"Now!" I yelled, the word tearing through the tense silence.

Without a moment's hesitation, Finn, stationed a safe distance away, reached for a small pouch slung across his chest. A spark erupted, followed by a hiss as he ignited the fuse – a fiery ribbon of destruction snaking its way towards the gorge.

We watched, hearts hammering against our ribs, as the flame raced down the tether, its progress a burning beacon against the darkness. Time seemed to stretch and distort, each second an agonizing wait.

The first sign of the explosion wasn't the sound, but the feeling. A deep tremor ran through the earth, vibrating up our legs and thrumming through our chests. Then came the noise – a thunderous boom that ripped through the air, so loud it felt like a physical blow. We instinctively clapped our hands over our ears, wincing even as the sound started to fade.

Then came the roar. It wasn't a single, sharp explosion, but a sustained cacophony, a wave of sound that crashed over us like a physical blow. It started with a deep, bass rumble, the sound of massive boulders grinding against each other as they were ripped from the mountainside. This low growl quickly escalated into a chaotic symphony of shattering stone, punctuated by the ear-splitting shrieks of metal twisting under unimaginable stress.

Distant screams, human and equine, cut through the raw power of the collapsing rock. They were high-pitched and frantic, swallowed whole almost as soon as they erupted. The cries of the horses, in particular, sent chills down my spine. It wasn't the whinny of a startled animal, but a blood-curdling shriek of pure terror, a sound that spoke of sudden, crushing pain and utter hopelessness.

The ground continued to tremble beneath my feet, the earth itself seemingly participating in the act of destruction. With each passing moment, the sounds shifted and morphed, the initial roar giving way to a series of smaller booms as the avalanche of boulders disintegrated into a cascade of smaller debris. Dust, kicked up by the collapse, formed a thick brown cloud that hung heavy in the air, further obscuring the scene from view.

We couldn't see the gorge from our vantage point, but the very air shimmered with the heat of the blast. The forest around us stirred awake, a cacophony of startled birds erupting into flight and small animals scattering for cover. Even the ground seemed to groan under the aftershocks, a testament to the raw power unleashed.

I looked around, the silence thick after the earsplitting boom. My first instinct was to check on the others. Elyse sat huddled in Isaac's arms, her face pale and ears still tightly covered. Marcus, his weathered face etched with a mix of relief and grim resolve, gazed out towards the now-smoke-shrouded gorge.

Then there was Finn. He couldn't contain his excitement. A wide grin stretched across his face, his eyes twinkling with the satisfaction of a successful experiment.

Kass turned to me, a question already forming in her eyes. "Did it work?" she asked, though there was a knowing glint in her gaze.

I couldn't help but laugh, a wave of relief washing over me. The fear, the near-death experience on the cliff face, all of it seemed to evaporate in that moment.

"Did it work?" I repeated, mimicking her question with a playful jab. "Well, I’d say it certainly blew a hole in their schedule."

A shared smile spread across Kass's face. We may have been novices compared to the seasoned fighters among us, but tonight, we had proven ourselves.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as the echoes of the explosion slowly subsided. An unsettling silence descended, broken only by the dripping of water and the distant snap of a single twig.

Finally, once the dust had settled and the tremors had subsided, Marcus turned to Orion. "Go," he commanded, his voice low and raspy. "See if there are any survivors."

The magnificent hawk, his keen eyes fixed on his master, let out a sharp cry and launched himself into the night sky. We watched him disappear into the darkness, a silent messenger bearing the weight of our unspoken question.

It felt like ages before he returned, his powerful wings beating a steady rhythm as he glided back into view. Alighting on Marcus's outstretched arm, Orion gave a single, decisive caw.

"None alive," Marcus announced, his voice heavy with a strange mix of relief and grim acceptance. The mission had been a success, but the cost, as always, was high.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant rumble of settling rocks. I gestured for the others to follow, my own boots crunching on the damp forest floor. As we approached the gorge, the full impact of the explosion hit me like a physical blow.

Smoke still curled from the jagged maw of the gorge, the stench of burnt earth and singed metal stinging my nostrils. The landscape, once a formidable wall of rock, was now a scene of utter devastation. The supply line – the string of carts and wagons – was no more. In its place lay a tangled mess of splintered wood, twisted metal, and scattered supplies. Huge boulders, dislodged by the avalanche, had become macabre tombstones, crushing men, horses, and cargo beneath their immense weight.

A crimson river, fed by unseen wounds, flowed out from the heart of the destruction. My breath hitched in my throat, the metallic tang of blood sharp on my tongue. This wasn't the abstract plan discussed in hushed tones around the table back at the base. This was raw, brutal reality. These weren't figurines on a map, these were lives extinguished in a single, violent instant.

A wave of nausea threatened to engulf me. The enormity of what we'd done, the sheer scale of the destruction, pressed down on me like a physical weight. Responsibility, a heavy cloak I hadn't fully anticipated, settled on my shoulders. We were responsible for this carnage, for silencing those screams that echoed for a terrifying moment in the aftermath of the blast.

But these men, these lives cut short, were cogs in the machine of the King's tyranny. They served a regime that crushed dissent and choked the life out of the land. This wasn't murder, I told myself fiercely, it was a necessary evil, a blow against a greater darkness.

Suddenly, Marcus's voice cut through the oppressive silence. "Let's see what we can salvage," he said, his voice gruff but laced with a practical edge. "Medical supplies, weapons, anything that can be used."

His words snapped me out of my internal debate.

We navigated the macabre landscape, picking our way through a twisted graveyard of splintered wood and shattered dreams. The stench of singed flesh hung heavy in the air, a grim counterpoint to the acrid bite of smoke. Each step forward was a morbid dance around the fallen, their uniforms still bearing the wretched insignia of the King's army.

Elyse approached the wreckage with an almost surreal detachment. Her white dress, usually pristine, billowed around her like a spectral shroud as she lifted the hem, navigating the macabre landscape with an unsettling grace.

Isaac, his face etched with a grim compassion, lagged behind us. Unlike the rest of us focused solely on salvageable supplies, he knelt beside fallen figures, his gloved fingers brushing against chests, searching for any flicker of life amidst the carnage. Each negative confirmation was met with a silent shake of his head, a flicker of sadness in his kind eyes.

Kass, usually a stoic wall of defiance, seemed to shrink under the weight of the carnage. Our gazes met, a silent acknowledgment of the horrifying reality before us. War, once a distant concept whispered around flickering campfires, now stared us back in the face, raw and brutal.

Suddenly, a whimper broke through the oppressive silence. We followed the sound to a soldier, his face contorted in pain, his legs pinned beneath a colossal boulder. His pleas for mercy echoed through the gorge, a chilling counterpoint to the symphony of destruction.

A wave of nausea swept over me. This man, just another pawn to the King, was now reduced to a whimpering soul at our mercy.

Kass, her face a mask of grim resolution, stepped forward. I knew the question hanging in the air, unspoken but understood. We couldn't leave him to suffer. Not here, not like this.

With a swift, practiced movement, she drew her sword, the moonlight glinting off the polished steel. The soldier flinched, his eyes widening in terror. A choked sob escaped his lips, his pleas replaced by a desperate whimper.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the scene before me. This wasn't the liberation we envisioned. We were no heroes here, just players in a brutal game with a horrifying cost.

Kass's voice, low and steady, cut through the tension. "It's okay," she murmured, the words barely audible. Then, with a single, swift motion, she ended his suffering.

Silence descended once more, broken only by the distant cries of a startled owl. Shame coiled in my gut, a bitter counterpoint to the grim necessity of the act.

But as I looked into Kass's hardened eyes, I saw not a monster, but a reflection of the price we had to pay for freedom. This was war, and war demanded sacrifices, a truth that now sat heavy in our hearts.

The air hung heavy with the stench of blood and burnt metal as we sifted through the debris. Each step was a morbid dance around mangled bodies and splintered wagons. Kass and I exchanged a silent glance, the devastation mirrored in each other's eyes. This wasn't the clean victory we'd envisioned back at the base. Here, the cost was laid bare, raw and brutal.

Suddenly, Finn's voice cut through the oppressive silence. "Well, this certainly puts a damper on their picnic!" he chirped, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

A small, humorless chuckle escaped Marcus’ lips. "Not exactly the most delicate way to put it, Finn," he said, shaking his head.

Kass pointed towards a fallen soldier, his armor dented but seemingly salvageable. "We could use those," she said, gesturing to his sword and breastplate.

We worked with a grim efficiency, scavenging what we could. Fortunately, several medical packs had survived the blast intact, their contents a godsend in times of war.

Glancing down, I spotted a glint of metal half-buried beneath a mangled wagon wheel. I knelt, my joints protesting against the constant strain. Using the tip of my sword, I carefully pried away the debris, revealing a surprising find - a crossbow.

Dust and grime obscured its original finish, but the intricate design and the distinctive tension of the string spoke volumes about its quality. It was most likely an Imperial weapon, a cruel twist of fate that placed it in our hands now.

"Score!" Finn exclaimed, a genuine grin breaking through the gloom for the first time. "These Imperial crossbows are nasty little buggers. Perfect addition to our arsenal."

As we continued our grim harvest, a strange sense of purpose began to solidify within me. We weren't butchers, reveling in the slaughter. We were rebels, fighting against a tyrannical regime. This carnage was a grim necessity, a bitter pill to swallow on the path to freedom.

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow on the scene. We knew our time was limited. With a final sweep of the area, we gathered our meager haul – weapons, medical supplies, and a few dented canteens – the spoils of a brutal victory.

We turned away from the gorge, the scene of devastation etched into my memory. A strange silence hung in the air, broken only by the crunch of our boots on loose gravel. It wasn't a celebratory silence, not exactly. But there was a quiet sense of accomplishment, a shared understanding that we had achieved something significant. The King's forces wouldn't be making any significant headway through this pass for weeks, not with the colossal mess we'd created.

"Let's move," Marcus barked, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of satisfaction. "We can't afford to linger. There's a chance they'll send a follow-up party."

His words snapped me out of my internal reverie. The others began to move, their steps purposeful despite the weight of what we'd witnessed. But Marcus lingered behind, his hand catching me by the arm.

"Good job, kid," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. "You held your own out there."

The praise felt hollow in the wake of the destruction we'd left behind. "Will it ever get any easier?" I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop it. The image of the young soldier, his pleas for help echoing in my mind, gnawed at me.

Marcus studied me for a long moment. "Never," he finally said, his voice low and steady. "Killing, even when necessary, never gets easier. But you learn to live with it. You learn to carry the weight, because sometimes, that's the price you pay for freedom."

His words were harsh, devoid of illusions, but they resonated with a brutal truth. This wasn't a game of heroes and villains, not anymore. We were fighting for survival, for a chance to build a better future, and that fight came at a terrible cost.

With a deep breath, I nodded, pushing down the rising tide of emotions. There would be time to grapple with the weight of our actions later. Now, we had to focus on staying alive, on outrunning any potential pursuit.