Frank had just finished his morning drills in the training yard. His muscles burned, his body ached—but the weight of his letters from Elara had been a comfort. Until the messenger arrived.
A small courier, breathless and dirt-streaked, handed him a folded note sealed with the town's emblem.
Frank's hands trembled slightly as he opened it. The writing was hurried, messy, but every word cut through him sharper than any blade:
Frank,
Trouble came to the town. Intruders, cloaked and precise. Elara kept everyone safe… but it was close.
You need to return. We need you.
— Leo
Frank's jaw tightened. His chest ached—not with fatigue, but with dread.
"Rhea," he called, voice firm despite the storm inside him. She approached, noticing his tension immediately.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Frank handed her the note. Her eyes scanned it, then narrowed.
"They followed you," she said. "Or they learned your connections. Either way, this isn't a coincidence. You need to go—now."
Frank's hands clenched. "I trained for this world, Rhea. But my home… Elara… the town… I can't let them—"
"Then go," she interrupted firmly. "Use what you've learned. You are faster, smarter, stronger now. And if you hesitate, they'll strike again."
Frank took a deep breath, letting the fire of determination ignite inside him. He grabbed his coat, strapped his weapons tight, and headed toward the city gate. Every step carried the weight of responsibility, loss, and love.
ON THE ROAD
The city faded behind him. Stone walls gave way to winding dirt paths, forests, and rolling hills. Frank moved swiftly, every sense alert. His mind raced through strategies, formations, and possible ambushes.
He thought of Elara, her small hands, her courage, the way she had defended the town in his absence. I won't fail her, he promised silently.
Hours later, Frank reached the outskirts of the town. Smoke curled faintly on the horizon—the unmistakable sign of a recent attack. The western gate still bore marks from weapons. The streets were eerily quiet.
Leo ran to meet him, relief and worry etched into his face.
"You made it," Leo gasped. "We didn't know if—"
Frank cut him off, eyes scanning the rooftops and alleys. "Where's Elara?"
Leo pointed toward the clinic. She emerged, dust on her sleeves, eyes wide but calm, holding the small band Frank had given her.
Frank ran the last few steps, kneeling before her. "Are you safe?"
She smiled faintly, exhaustion heavy on her face. "I'm safe. The town's safe… thanks to you, even from afar."
Frank exhaled slowly, finally letting some tension leave him. But he knew better. This attack had a signature—calculated, precise. Caelum's hand was in it.
Above, in the shadows of the hills, a familiar figure watched, arms crossed, eyes cold.
"There he stands… reunited, but still in my reach."