The morning sun barely touched the horizon when Kiel awoke, his mind still carrying the weight of last night's revelations. The camp was quiet except for the low murmur of soldiers preparing for another day. His body felt heavy, but his thoughts moved quickly—like a storm trapped in a bottle. The enemy's movements were becoming harder to predict, and that uncertainty gnawed at him more than any wound could.
Lian was already awake, crouched over a map with two scouts at her side. She looked up when Kiel approached, her eyes sharp. "You barely slept," she said without greeting.
"Neither did you," he replied, taking a seat beside her. The parchment between them was covered with markings—arrows, circles, and hastily scribbled notes.
"Their supply lines," she began, tapping one of the lines, "aren't where we thought they'd be. The last two caravans we intercepted were decoys."
Kiel frowned. "Meaning they're adapting. Learning from us."
"Exactly." Lian's voice was low but urgent. "And that makes them more dangerous."
Before they could discuss further, Alric arrived with a grim look. His normally composed demeanor was cracked with tension. "We've got a problem," he announced. "Two of our outer watch posts went silent at dawn."
That single sentence tightened the air in the tent.
Kiel stood immediately. "Send a retrieval unit—quietly. If it's an ambush, I don't want to lose more men."
Alric nodded and left to carry out the order. Lian glanced at Kiel. "This is what I meant. They're moving closer, bolder. If they've started targeting our watch posts…"
"They'll be at our gates soon," Kiel finished for her.
Hours later, the retrieval unit returned—but not with the outcome they hoped for. Of the eight soldiers sent, only three came back, their armor scratched and faces pale.
"It was a trap," one of them rasped. "They knew exactly where we'd be. The others… didn't make it."
Kiel's jaw clenched. The enemy wasn't just adapting—they were anticipating.
That night, he stood outside the command tent, staring at the distant hills. The moonlight painted the landscape in cold silver, and the wind carried the faint scent of smoke from somewhere unseen. Behind him, he heard footsteps—Lian again.
"You're thinking about moving the camp," she said softly.
"I'm thinking about how many more lives we'll lose if we stay," Kiel admitted. "But moving means losing ground, and they'll see it as weakness."
Lian was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes survival matters more than pride, Kiel."
He turned to face her, and for a brief moment, the battlefield vanished from his thoughts. All he saw was the resolve in her eyes—a reminder that even in the chaos, there were people worth protecting.
Somewhere deep inside, Kiel knew a decision was coming soon, one that could change the course of the war.
And when it came, there would be no turning back.