The air was thick with tension as Kiel stood atop the ridge, staring at the crimson glow spreading across the distant horizon. The burning village below was a stark reminder of the chaos consuming the land. Smoke coiled into the sky like dark serpents, carrying with it the smell of destruction.
Behind him, Lyra tightened her grip on her bow, eyes narrowed. "They're not just raiding anymore… this looks like full-scale war."
Kiel's jaw clenched. "It's more than that. They're sending a message—one meant for us." He could feel the weight of every life lost pressing against his chest. The enemy wasn't acting out of desperation anymore; they were moving with purpose.
Down in the valley, Aiden and Marra were guiding survivors toward the safety of the woods. The children's cries mixed with the crackle of flames, a haunting melody that dug into Kiel's resolve.
A sudden rustle behind them made Kiel draw his blade instantly. From the shadows emerged a cloaked figure, hood low over their face. "If you keep watching, you'll be too late," the stranger said, voice steady but urgent.
Lyra's arrow was drawn before the words had fully left the figure's mouth. "Who are you?" she demanded.
The figure stepped forward, revealing sharp eyes that glimmered in the firelight. "Someone who knows what's coming. And you don't have much time to prepare."
Kiel lowered his blade slightly but kept his stance guarded. "Then speak. Because every moment we waste, more people die."
"They're gathering in the Black Vale," the stranger said. "Your enemy isn't acting alone. There's a council… a union of warlords. And they've set their sights on the last bastion—your stronghold."
Lyra's eyes widened. "If they take the stronghold—"
"They'll crush every resistance left," Kiel finished grimly. His mind raced, recalling the old maps of the Vale. It was a treacherous region—dense forests, hidden ravines, and countless places for an army to hide.
The stranger tossed a small rolled parchment toward Kiel. "Their movements. Stolen at great risk. But it won't matter if you don't move now."
Kiel caught it and scanned the markings. It was a rough battle plan, detailing troop positions and supply routes. The enemy was moving faster than he'd anticipated—much faster.
Aiden emerged from the treeline, sweat and soot streaking his face. "The last of the survivors are safe," he said, glancing at the cloaked newcomer. "And who's this?"
"Our problem solver," Kiel replied, tucking the map away. "Or possibly our next problem."
The stranger smirked faintly. "I'm neither. I'm the only chance you have of getting to the Vale before it's too late."
Kiel studied them for a moment longer, then finally nodded. "Fine. But if you're lying—"
"You'll have my head," the stranger interrupted. "But you'll thank me first."
Far off, thunder rumbled—not from the sky, but from the ground. The steady, growing sound of thousands of marching feet. The enemy was already moving.
Kiel turned to his companions. "We leave within the hour. Gear up, stay sharp. If the Black Vale falls into their hands… there won't be a horizon left to protect."
No one argued. They all knew the truth: the storm was no longer coming. It was already here.