The sun rose dull and red over the valley, bleeding through a sky that smelled of smoke and iron.
Nothing moved but the wind.
No drums. No screams. Only the hiss of cooling embers and the slow drip of rain from the trees.
Sapphire banners hung limp and wet along the ridge, their edges blackened with ash. Below, soldiers moved like ghosts among the ruins — checking bodies, pulling weapons from the mud, gathering what little could still be carried home. Their boots left deep prints that filled slowly with black water.
Kaal walked among them, dazed.
He couldn't remember when the fighting had stopped — only the sound, that endless, terrible sound, still echoing in his skull.
A broken drum lay half-buried in the mud. A child's toy carved from bone. A woman's hand curled around a smaller one.
He turned away, pressing his fist to his mouth, his breath trembling.
On the hill, the Chief Commander stood unmoving — hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the smoke rising from what used to be a tribe. His presence hadn't changed. Still. Cold. Absolute.
Commander Varn and Captain Irel stood beside him, armor cracked, faces pale with exhaustion.
"Report," the Chief said, voice flat.
Varn straightened. "Enemy wiped out, sir. Forty-seven confirmed dead. Seventeen beasts neutralized. Minimal losses — six men."
The Chief nodded once. "Acceptable."
No pride. No anger. Just a fact.
He scanned the valley again. "Move the wounded. We march at dusk."
He turned to leave — and his eyes caught on Kaal.
Something flickered there. A pause.
The air near Kaal's feet shifted, curling faintly, as if the wind itself leaned closer.
The Chief said nothing, but his gaze lingered a moment too long before he continued down the slope.
---
Kaal stood near a burned-out hut when a voice came softly behind him.
"You shouldn't stare too long," Irel said. "The dead start staring back."
Kaal turned. Irel's face was drawn, a cut along his jaw, soot streaking his armor. He looked less like the precise soldier who'd led the charge, and more like a man barely holding together.
Kaal swallowed. "Does it ever stop?"
"What?"
"The feeling," Kaal said. "Like something's still burning — even when it's all gone."
Irel crouched beside the ruined drum, his gauntlet brushing ash away.
"No," he said quietly. "It doesn't stop. You just… learn to carry it without letting it burn you hollow."
He straightened. "You lose someone?"
Kaal hesitated, then nodded.
"My mother," he said softly. "Just days ago. The tribe came through our home… She—"
His voice broke.
"She left me her books. Said they'd help me remember who I am."
Something flickered in Irel's eyes — sympathy, brief but real.
He rested a hand on Kaal's shoulder. "Then remember her through them. Not through this."
He gestured to the valley — the ruin, the blood, the smoke.
"This is what forgetting looks like."
Kaal looked up, eyes wet. "Did you lose anyone?"
A faint smile tugged at Irel's mouth — tired, a little sad.
"Everyone does," he murmured. "That's why we fight so hard to pretend we haven't."
They stood together in silence. The wind moved through the broken huts, soft as a sigh.
For the first time since the battle, Kaal felt something like stillness — fragile, but real.
Then the Chief's voice rang across the ridge.
"Captain Irel. Bring the boy."
Irel's hand tightened briefly on Kaal's shoulder — reassurance, warning, maybe both.
"When he looks at you," Irel murmured, "stand straight. Don't show fear. He respects breath, not words."
Kaal nodded, heart pounding.
Together they climbed toward the ridge, where the Chief waited — the sky behind him the color of dying embers.
The Chief's gaze met Kaal's again — sharp, measuring.
"You'll come with me," he said. "You don't belong among the wounded."
Irel and Varn exchanged a glance. They both knew what that meant.
The Chief didn't take anyone with him unless he saw potential — or danger.
"Yes, sir," Kaal said quietly.
The Chief turned away. "We leave for the northern barracks at first light. Prepare yourselves."
He walked into the mist, his presence leaving the air hollow behind him.
Kaal looked at Irel, who gave a small nod.
"Do what he says," Irel said softly. "But don't lose that look in your eyes. That's what keeps you human."
As the camp stirred to life, Kaal stood at the edge of the valley — the burned forest stretching endlessly below.
The wind shifted around him again, faint and warm, curling softly at his fingertips.
He didn't notice, but for the briefest moment, the ashes stirred — rising gently, moving in rhythm with his breath.
To be continued__