The first great boom shook the stones beneath their feet like a giant's drum.
Dust burst from the seams of the battlements, and a chorus of terrified cries rose from below.
Ashwini grabbed Ansh's sleeve. "Inner wall—now!"
Vijay didn't argue. Together they bolted down the narrow stair, Daav flashing ahead as a streak of fiery light.
The courtyard was chaos.
Villagers hauled water buckets, children wailed in their mothers' arms, men shouted for more oil and timber. The very ground quivered under each colossal step of the mountain ents.
Another roar thundered across the night. The outer gate shuddered like a kicked drum.
"Move!" Ashwini cried, helping a stooped old woman carry a basket of frightened toddlers toward the inner wall. Ansh darted to the other side, pulling a fallen beam away from a blocked doorway. Vijay used a gust of wind to scatter choking smoke so people could see.
Daav zipped overhead, sparks raining from his wings, shrilling warnings whenever a fresh crack split the stone.
The three children worked without thinking—hauling, steadying, pointing villagers toward safety. Their own hearts pounded with fear, but the sight of the terrified faces around them burned hotter than panic.
A deafening crack split the night.
The outer gate finally gave way.
The lead ent's massive silhouette loomed through the smoke, its green eyes glowing like moons. Behind it, more shapes advanced—scores of them, roots and bark twisting in silent fury.
The defenders fired arrows, launched flaming pitch. Nothing slowed the march.
"Back!" a soldier shouted, waving his torch. "To the inner wall!"
The crowd surged. Mothers clutched children. Men dragged the wounded.
Ansh, Ashwini, and Vijay were swept along, doing everything they could to keep people moving.
"Keep close!" Vijay yelled, grabbing Ansh's collar when the boy nearly stumbled.
Daav darted in frantic loops, screeching above the din.
They reached the great inner gate—a wall twice as thick as the first. Villagers poured through while others slammed heavy iron bolts into place.
Ashwini spotted a small child crying near a toppled cart. Without pause she sprinted back, roots bursting from the ground to push the debris aside. She scooped the child into her arms and raced back as the gate boomed shut behind her.
Ansh and Vijay pressed against the cold stone, breathing hard. Their clothes were streaked with soot and dust. Outside, the mountain shook beneath the relentless advance of the giants.
For a moment only the echoes of distant roars filled the air.
The inner courtyard calmed little by little. Torches flickered along the ramparts. Villagers gathered in tense knots, whispering prayers and clutching loved ones.
Ansh wiped sweat from his brow, chest heaving. "That… was close."
Daav settled on his shoulder, feathers dimmed but eyes sharp.
"They'll break through again," Vijay said quietly.
Ashwini nodded, gaze fixed on the trembling gates. "But for now, we breathe."
From the crowd a tall, broad-shouldered man approached, his gray hair bound with a leather cord. His robes were plain but his presence carried weight. The villagers parted instinctively, bowing as he passed.
He stopped before the three children and inclined his head. "You are not of our village," he said, voice low but steady. "Yet you helped my people without fear. For that, I thank you."
Ansh rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to respond. "We… just couldn't stand there."
The man's eyes softened briefly. "I am the chief of this village. You must understand what you have walked into."
He gestured toward the shuddering walls. "These are the mountain ents. Long have they slept in the high forest. For generations we lived in quiet beneath their watch. But moons ago they stirred. First only a few. Then more. Each night they come in greater numbers, striking harder, climbing higher."
His jaw tightened. "We do not know why their fury grows. We only know it does not stop."
As if to punctuate his words, a deep roar rumbled through the stones. The inner gate groaned but held.
The chief continued, "We fight, we hide, and we pray. But the mountain shakes more fiercely each passing night."
Ashwini shivered. "You've endured this every night?"
He nodded gravely. "Every night. And still we do not understand the reason for their wrath."
Vijay glanced at the trembling walls. "How long can you hold out?"
The chief's eyes flickered with pain. "As long as the mountain allows."
A soft sound interrupted them—a small, questioning "Hmm?"
They turned to see a boy, no more than three summers old, standing beside the chief. His round eyes were bright as the moon, his dark hair tousled from sleep. He rubbed them with tiny fists and stared at the strangers with unguarded curiosity.
"Grandfather?" the child asked, voice piping. "Who are they?"
The chief's stern face gentled. "Visitors, little one. Brave visitors."
The boy's gaze moved to Ansh, then to Daav. His mouth curved in a delighted smile. "Fire bird!"
Daav chirped proudly and flared his wings, scattering faint sparks that made the child giggle.
Despite the fear and the echoing roars outside, the small sound brought a fragile warmth to the courtyard.
The chief rested a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Go to your mother, little sprout. The night is not yet safe."
But the child only stepped closer to Ansh, reaching a small hand toward Daav. The firebird hopped nearer, letting a single ember-light feather brush the boy's palm.
For a heartbeat the chaos and terror of the night faded. The roar of the mountain ents seemed far away. There was only the soft laughter of a child, the faint glow of sparks, and the quiet knowledge that dawn would come—if they could endure until morning.
Outside, the earth rumbled again, a reminder that the storm was not over.
But for now, within the stone walls, a flicker of courage held fast.