The storm had rolled in fast, sweeping across the valley like an omen. What had begun as a whisper of wind had risen into a howling force, bending the trees, shaking the earth with distant thunder. The downpour had come soon after—heavy, relentless, turning the forest paths into rivers of mud.
Vihan, Aaravi, and Ronan had taken shelter beneath the overhang of a rocky ledge, waiting for the worst of it to pass. The rain had drummed against the stone, a steady rhythm that drowned out their words, leaving them to sit in silence, each lost in thought.
Now, the storm was gone, but its presence lingered. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves, the world around them still dripping, still breathing in the wake of the sky's fury.
Ronan walked slightly ahead, silent as always. He never spoke unless necessary, but Vihan knew better than to mistake his silence for disinterest. The man was watching. Always watching.
Aaravi walked beside Vihan, her silence different from usual. It was not the quiet of thoughtfulness, nor the quiet of exhaustion. It was the quiet of someone who knew they were not alone.
Vihan felt it too.
They were being watched.
It had begun miles ago, a prickling awareness that had settled at the base of his spine. At first, it had been subtle—the unnatural stillness in the trees, the absence of birdsong where there should have been plenty. Then there had been the movement. Shadows shifting just beyond sight. The faintest echo of footsteps where there should have been none.
Whoever they were, they were skilled. Not bandits. Not mercenaries. Something else.
Aaravi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're closing in."
Ronan shifted slightly but did not stop walking. "Been following us for the last hour," he muttered. "Two groups, one on each flank. Skilled enough to avoid leaving prints."
Vihan glanced at him. "And you didn't mention this sooner?"
Ronan shrugged. "Wanted to see how long it took you to notice."
Aaravi shot him a sharp look. "That is not a game you should be playing."
The mercenary smirked but said nothing.
The path ahead opened into a clearing—a wide expanse where the trees had thinned, revealing a ridge in the distance.
And that was when their watchers finally revealed themselves.
The first figure stepped from the underbrush, silent as mist.
Then another.
Then five more.
Within seconds, they were surrounded.
Ronan did not reach for his weapon. Neither did Vihan. Not yet.
Aaravi remained still beside them, her breathing measured, but Vihan could see the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides, prepared.
The figures were cloaked, dark fabric blending into the forest, hoods obscuring their faces. Yet even without seeing them, Vihan knew these were not ordinary travelers.
They moved with purpose.
And purpose was always dangerous.
A single figure stepped forward, pulling back their hood.
A woman—her face strong, her skin the deep bronze of someone who had lived beneath the sun rather than in the shadows. A scar curved over one cheekbone, its edges old but pronounced. Her eyes were sharp, watching him not as a threat, but as something she had already decided was important.
She looked at Aaravi.
Then at Vihan.
Then at Ronan.
And then she smiled.
"You are late."
Aaravi blinked. "Excuse me?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, as if amused. "We have been waiting for you."
Ronan let out a low breath, shifting his weight slightly. "That's never a good thing to hear."
Vihan's fingers twitched. "You were expecting us?"
The woman let out a quiet chuckle. "Of course."
From the trees, more figures emerged—silent, disciplined, waiting.
Vihan did not miss the way they moved, the precision in their positioning. These were warriors.
But their weapons remained sheathed.
The woman exhaled, the ghost of a smile still on her lips. "Come," she said, gesturing toward the ridge. "Walk with me."
Aaravi glanced at Vihan, her eyes filled with unspoken words.
He gave her a slight nod.
Together, they followed.
And behind them, the ghosts moved.
The path led them through the dense forest, winding upward toward the ridge. The higher they climbed, the more the trees thinned, revealing glimpses of what lay beyond.
Then, as they crested the rise, Vihan saw it.
A city—hidden, ancient, alive.
Carved into the mountainside, it stretched like a secret kingdom, its rooftops dark against the morning mist. Structures of stone and wood wove together in harmony, their edges softened by the creeping touch of vines and moss. Bridges arched over cascading waterfalls, connecting terraces filled with growing things—herbs, trees heavy with fruit, flowers blooming in bursts of wild color.
It was not a place of war.
But it was not a place of peace, either.
There was strength here, even in the quiet.
The woman led them through the winding streets, the people who passed watching with open curiosity. Some bore scars. Others carried weapons. But none of them looked afraid.
Finally, she stopped before a wide stone hall, its doors carved with the image of a great phoenix rising from the roots of an ancient tree.
She turned to face them.
"This is the last refuge of the Forgotten Order."
Aaravi frowned. "I've never heard of it."
The woman's lips curled. "That is the point."
She gestured for them to step inside.
Inside, the hall was vast but not grand. It was built for purpose, not luxury. A great fire burned in the center, its embers casting flickering shadows over the figures seated at the long wooden table.
Ronan leaned slightly toward Vihan. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I."
The woman took her place at the head of the table, resting a hand lightly on the chair's carved arm.
"For centuries," she began, "we have remained in the shadows, watching as the world tore itself apart. We are the last remnants of something greater, something that once stood between chaos and order." Her gaze sharpened. "But that is not why you are here."
She exhaled, watching them carefully. "You are here because the balance is shifting again. And whether you are ready or not, you are part of it."
Vihan met her gaze steadily. "Who are you?"
The woman's smile was slow, deliberate.
"My name is Ranya. And we are the ones who will stand with you."