The first light of dawn clawed its way over the horizon, pale and weak against the ashen skies. Refuge stood in uneasy silence, its walls lined with defenders clutching makeshift weapons and stolen breaths. Every soul braced for the storm that was closing in.

Grizzley leaned against the eastern gate, his machete hanging at his side, its edge honed to a brutal sharpness. His eyes scanned the treeline, where shadows seemed to shift and ripple like waves, though nothing had yet emerged. He hadn’t slept all night—none of them had—but the exhaustion only tightened his focus.

“You see anything?” Mara asked as she approached, her bow strung and ready. She peered out over the horizon, her expression grim.

“Not yet,” Grizzley muttered. “But they’re out there. Waiting.”

“Bastards always like to make us sweat,” Mara said, her voice low. “Let’s hope the traps do their job.”

Grizzley gave a curt nod but said nothing more. He didn’t believe in luck, only in preparation—and even that felt thin against the force that was coming.

Behind them, Sam adjusted the straps of his makeshift armor, ensuring they were secure. Lila stood beside him, her spear held in trembling hands. He turned to her, his expression softening despite the tension. “You ready, kiddo?”

Lila nodded, though her voice wavered when she spoke. “I think so.”

“You are,” Sam said firmly. “Just remember what I taught you. Stay balanced, keep your head, and don’t try to take on more than you can handle. You stay close to me—promise?”

“I promise.”

Grizzley turned back to them, his voice steady and commanding. “Stay sharp. The moment you see anything, you call it.”

The minutes dragged like hours. The morning chill bit at their skin, but none of them moved from their posts. The air felt heavy, charged, as if the wasteland itself was holding its breath.

And then the silence broke.

A low rumble rolled through the air, growing louder with every passing moment. Grizzley straightened, his hand tightening on the machete. From the treeline, shadows began to coalesce into shapes—figures moving low and fast, their weapons glinting in the early light. Scouts. Behind them, a larger force emerged, a tide of raiders and Sanctified zealots marching with brutal purpose.

At their center stood Magnus, towering over the others. He wore a tattered robe that billowed with each step, his face hidden behind an iron mask twisted into a grotesque grin. He raised a hand, and the horde halted, their silence more unsettling than any war cry.

Magnus’s voice rang out, cutting through the stillness like a blade. “People of Refuge! You have been judged and found wanting. Your walls, your weapons, your lives—they are all forfeit. Surrender now, and I may show you mercy.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Grizzley snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. “Mercy. That’s a good one.”

Then, a scout tripped a wire, and the trap snapped shut. A spiked log swung down from the trees, smashing into three raiders and sending their bodies sprawling. The horde froze for a moment, their silence broken by the sickening crunch of wood on bone.

Grizzley raised his machete high, his voice bellowing across the walls. “Now!”

The defenders unleashed their fury. Mara loosed her first arrow, the sharp whistle cutting through the air before it found its mark in a raider’s throat. Beside her, Ezra heaved a spiked log over the barricade, sending it tumbling into the ranks below. It slammed into two zealots, leaving them crushed and motionless.

At the east gate, Sam and Lila moved in tandem, their strikes precise and deliberate. Lila thrust her spear into an advancing raider’s leg, her breath hitching as he screamed and fell. Sam followed up with a brutal swing of his blade, silencing the man before he could rise again.

“You’re doing good, Lila,” Sam said quickly, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Stay with me.”

Grizzley fought like a storm. His machete cleaved through the air, carving into anyone who got too close. A zealot charged at him with a jagged blade, but Grizzley sidestepped the attack and drove the machete into the man’s chest, kicking him back into the dirt. Another attacker came from the side, swinging a rusted ax. Grizzley ducked low, slashing at their legs and sending them toppling before finishing them with a quick, brutal strike.

Smoke and ash began to fill the air as Magnus’s forces set fire to the outer barricades. The flames crackled and roared, casting flickering light over the battlefield. From his position near the rear, Marcus watched the chaos with wide eyes, his hands trembling.

“This is my fault,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Nearby, Caleb, one of the guards assigned to watch him, sneered. “Damn right it is. And if we die today, it’ll be on your head.”

Marcus flinched but said nothing. He couldn’t argue. He didn’t deserve to.

The west wall trembled under the weight of the assault. Mara’s arrows had run low, and now she fought with a spear, her movements quick and efficient. Ezra stood beside her, wielding his wrench with deadly precision. He caught a raider’s blade with the thick metal tool, twisting it out of their hands before slamming it into their face.

“We’re getting overrun!” Ezra shouted, his voice strained. “We need reinforcements!”

Mara growled in frustration, driving her spear into a zealot’s chest before kicking the body off the wall. “We hold until we can’t. No retreat.”

Despite their best efforts, the enemy began to scale the walls. One by one, the defenders were forced to fall back, regrouping behind the second line of barricades. The outer defenses crumbled as Magnus’s forces surged forward, their chants and screams creating a deafening cacophony.

Grizzley retreated to the inner gate, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood streaked his arms and face, but his grip on the machete never wavered. Sam and Lila were close behind, their movements slower now, their exhaustion starting to show.

“Where’s Mara?” Sam asked, scanning the crowd of defenders.

“She’s holding the west,” Grizzley said. “But they won’t last long if we don’t push back.”

Sam nodded, gripping his blade tighter. “Then let’s push.”

Grizzley looked at him, a flicker of respect passing between them. “Stay alive, Sam. Both of you.”

Sam smirked faintly. “Same to you.”

The defenders regrouped, their numbers dwindling but their resolve unbroken. As Magnus’s forces advanced, Grizzley stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. “This is our home! We don’t let them take it!”

With a roar, the defenders surged forward, meeting the enemy head-on. The battle raged on, brutal and unrelenting. Every strike, every scream, every drop of blood felt like another thread unraveling the fragile fabric of their world.

And in the midst of it all, Magnus watched from a distance, his iron mask glinting in the firelight, his twisted grin never faltering.