The wind howled through the pine-covered hills of northern Verentis. The darkness of night was thick, and only the sharpest eyes could make out the glint of steel or the movement of cloaked figures. But for the trained eyes of border veterans, it was perfect.
Achilles Verentis crouched low in the brush, his gaze fixed on the mine that had been stolen from his land. The earth had been gouged and carved like a festering wound, glowing faintly with magical barriers and arcane runes that pulsated at intervals.
To his right, Kael whispered, "They're still rotating shifts. One group every half hour. And their defense pattern hasn't changed in the last two hours."
Achilles nodded. "They've grown complacent. Typical of people who've never fought a real war."
The fifty soldiers of House Verentis were positioned like hounds ready to strike. All were veterans of the border wars, personally trained or hardened under Achilles' command. None needed further instruction. None would hesitate.
This was their land. This was their vengeance.
Meanwhile, twenty miles away under the western stars, Skotos and ten shadows moved beneath the trees like wraiths. Their target: the ancestral keep of House Marestel, where young Lira Verentis was held.
Skotos had memorized every guard's position, every patrol route, every flaw in the enchanted walls. The hard part wasn't getting in. It was getting out with a child who had spent most of her life in captivity.
"Remember," he had whispered before setting out. "We don't leave anyone alive who sees us. And we don't fail."
Back near the mine, Achilles raised his fist. The Verentis soldiers stilled. Behind the enemy perimeter, the gentle hum of the magical field danced like a second heartbeat.
"Kael," Achilles muttered, "set the first charge. Once the barrier blinks, we move."
Kael gave a tight nod and moved forward, a small crystal in hand. This wasn't ordinary explosive magic. This was an experimental pulse disruptor—a mana destabilizer Achilles had helped develop himself, designed to overload and cancel barrier sigils for just a few seconds.
Moments passed. A flicker. A surge of blue light.
The barrier blinked.
"Go," Achilles growled.
Like shadows cast from lightning, the Verentis soldiers surged forward.
They crossed the boundary in silence. The first two guards didn't even scream as knives slit their throats. Swords hummed. Arrows flew. Within seconds, a third of the perimeter fell.
Then came the clash.
Alarms blared. Arcane horns lit the sky. But it was already too late. Achilles was among them now.
He cut down two enemies in one sweep. His blade danced with dark energy—magic and aura intertwined. A flash of lightning danced from his left palm into a clustered group, then he spun with brutal elegance and sliced through three more.
Kael tore through enemy lines, carving a path toward the command tent. Behind him, his men followed with brutal efficiency.
The mine defenders panicked. They hadn't expected resistance, let alone a surgical assault. Screams filled the air.
Back at Marestel Keep, Skotos moved through the stone corridors, leaving corpses in his wake. The shadows with him cleared rooms without noise. They reached the prison chambers beneath the west wing within an hour.
There she was.
Lira Verentis.
She was thinner than expected, her dark hair matted and eyes wide with confusion. But she was awake. Alert.
"Who...?" she asked as Skotos knelt.
"I'm here from your brother. We're taking you home."
Tears welled in her eyes. For the first time in her life, she believed she'd be free.
And Skotos kept his word.
Meanwhile, back at the mine—blood soaked the dirt. The Verentis forces overwhelmed the defenders. Achilles himself stormed the central chamber of the mine, where the energy veins pulsed beneath crystal veins of raw mana.
"We reclaim what's ours," he whispered. Then he ordered Kael to retrieve and secure the supplies.
A signal flare launched into the sky.
On both fronts, the wolves of Verentis had triumphed.
And the war was only just beginning.