The sky was a canvas of bruised gray, stitched with faint stars barely visible through a thin veil of necrotic mist. On the outskirts of the deadlands, the Twelfth Pillar army had set camp among jagged rocks and withered trees. The air tasted of copper and decay.
Aden walked the perimeter, boots crunching the ash-laced earth beneath him. Soldiers moved about, erecting wards, lighting spell-bound torches, sharpening blades in the fading firelight. Despite the quiet efficiency, he could feel it—restlessness coiled like a serpent beneath every motion.
"Captain Lucen reports the third ward is stable," came a voice from behind. It was Thayen, one of Aden's senior tacticians. Short, wiry, eyes always scanning.
Aden nodded, his gaze sweeping the far hills. "And the scouts?"
"Returned an hour ago. No signs of movement yet. But the fog's getting thicker."
Egmund's voice crackled inside his mind, like static laced with sarcasm. "Mmm, love that. Nothing says 'sweet dreams' like breathable ghost smog."
Aden didn't respond aloud, just allowed himself a small sigh.
He moved toward the war tent, a large structure at the camp's center lined with enchanted leather and marked with the insignia of the Black Flame. Inside, a large map of the Bone Citadel was pinned to a wooden table. His officers waited: General Ryse, a battle-hardened woman with a voice like gravel; Mage-Captain Irel, cloaked in deep violet, the scent of ozone following her like perfume; and Vellian, the beast-tamer who wore a living snake around his arm like a sash.
"Let's get to it," Aden said, planting a gloved hand on the map.
Vellian pointed to the far side of the settlement. "They're using corpse-walkers to patrol the outer wall. Not fast, but tireless."
Irel traced a rune across the northern approach. "Necrotic winds swirl here. Whatever's at the center, it's feeding on something big."
Ryse leaned forward. "We'll need to split the force—draw their guards, breach through this weak point. But the fog... it's thick enough to swallow us."
Aden glanced between them, quiet for a beat. "We move in two days. I want all perimeter enchantments doubled and ranged units on rotation. No more blind spots."
He didn't miss the way Thayen hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Permission to speak freely?"
Aden raised an eyebrow. "Granted."
"You've got some soldiers... wondering if this campaign's cursed. We've lost two patrols. Half of us didn't even see what dragged them under."
There it was—fear, finally rising to the surface.
"They think I don't know that?" Aden said, his voice low but sharp. "We're marching into the mouth of undeath. Of course men are scared. But fear doesn't get a seat at this table. Results do."
"Oof," Egmund chuckled inside his head. "You really should consider a career in motivational speaking."
Aden didn't let his mask slip. "Anyone else doubting the plan?" he asked aloud.
No one responded.
"Good. Dismissed. Be ready by dawn."
The officers saluted and began filing out. Ryse lingered a moment. "They'll follow you, Aden. Even into the gates of the abyss. But just know... there's not many left who can crawl back from that."
He gave her a nod, but said nothing.
Outside, the camp was calm—too calm. The torches flickered as the wind shifted. And then came the scream.
It tore through the night like a blade, followed by a second, then a chorus. Chaos exploded across the camp as shadowy shapes leapt the outer wards.
Aden moved instantly, cloak billowing behind him, his sword already half-drawn. "To arms!" he shouted. "Defensive circle! Mages to the center!"
They emerged from the dark—flesh-bound hounds, their bodies misshapen, stitched from corpses and shadow. Dozens of them.
One soldier was tackled mid-run, torn apart before he could scream again. Another staggered back, crossbow trembling, only to be crushed by a second beast's weight.
Egmund's voice snarled. "Now that's just rude. They didn't even knock."
Aden leapt forward, his blade igniting in red fire. He slashed one creature across the face, then spun and gutted a second mid-lunge. The hounds shrieked, black blood hissing against the earth.
He moved with brutal precision, commanding the battlefield like a force of nature. One of the hounds made it to the center of camp, teeth closing in on Captain Sorin, a young officer. Aden intercepted it mid-charge, bisecting the beast clean down the middle.
"Mages, burn the outer line!" he called.
Flames erupted in a ring as Irel lifted her staff, incinerating three hounds at once. The rest scattered.
Panting, Aden stood over the smoldering remains, smoke clinging to his cloak.
The camp fell silent. Only the crackle of fire remained.
Sorin stumbled to his feet. "T-thank you, sir."
Aden nodded once. "Double the guard. They weren't here to kill us."
Ryse approached, her armor splattered. "Then why?"
Aden stared toward the horizon. Beyond the hills, the fog churned like boiling tar.
"To watch. To test our strength."
Egmund's voice dropped low in his head. "Feels a bit rude, doesn't it?"
Aden sheathed his blade, eyes sharp.
"This wasn't the war," he muttered. "It was the welcome."