The night burned red with firelight. Screams mingled with steel as the Riders descended upon the camp like a tide of death. Their black steeds tore through tents, hooves sparking against stone, while shadows twisted at their heels like hunting hounds.Eldrin’s blade was already wet with blood. He cut down one Rider, then another, his breath ragged, every strike echoing with the fury of a man fighting not only for his life but for the fragile thread of hope that still bound his army together. Around him, soldiers screamed his name, desperate for leadership, desperate for the promise that they weren’t already lost.But the truth was clear chaos reigned.“Hold the line!” Kael roared from across the field, his shield raised, his scarred face glistening with sweat and ash. “Hold the godsdamned line!”The Riders smashed against them like waves against a crumbling wall. The men fought, but they bled faster than they struck. For every Rider slain, two more rose from the abyssal mist.And then

The fire was dying, but the smoke still lingered. Thick, acrid, choking—like the memory of betrayal itself.The camp was silent except for the hiss of cooling embers and the restless shuffle of boots. No laughter, no strategy, no banter. Only suspicion.Kael stood at the center of the gathering, his sword unsheathed but lowered, its tip dragging faint lines into the dirt. His eyes scanned every face: Dreya with her arms folded tight, Eldrin half-shadowed with his hood drawn low, and the others, restless, muttering, casting side glances that cut deeper than any blade.Someone among them had betrayed them. And everyone knew it.“We can’t just stand here,” Dreya finally broke the silence, her voice sharp. “Shade didn’t escape by chance. Someone let him out.”“Or,” Eldrin’s voice was cold, his words measured, “he was never truly bound. Some of us questioned chaining a creature born of shadows with nothing but steel.”Kael turned his gaze to him, but Eldrin did not flinch.“Enough,” Kael s

The night should have been quiet after the Crown’s voice faded, but silence never came. It left only a gnawing unease, a sense that every man and woman in the camp had suddenly become a stranger.The soldiers huddled in small groups, whispering, casting wary glances not only at the abyss but at each other. Trust had cracked, and once a crack begins, it spreads.Kael saw it in their eyes the haunted look of people who no longer knew who was friend or foe. His fist clenched on the hilt of his sword as he barked orders.“Hold formation! No one moves without my word!”His command carried weight, but not enough. One soldier shouted back, his voice raw with fear.“Why should we listen to you, Kael? You didn’t hear what the Crown said? Eldrin’s already gone! We’re following a curse, not a commander!”Murmurs flared into shouts.Isolde stood at the edge of the firelight, her hand resting on her blade but her heart beating far too fast. The whispers of her brother’s betrayal still hung like a

The campfire light flickered across weary faces, but the warmth it gave was not enough to melt the frost of suspicion hanging in the air. Soldiers huddled in uneven clusters, some whispering in tight circles, others glaring across the firelines as though every shadow might be a traitor waiting to strike.Isolde stood at the center, her cloak still torn from the last battle, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword though she had not drawn it. She could feel their eyes on her not with the loyalty that once steadied her heart, but with something colder, sharper. Doubt.Kael was the first to speak, his gravelly voice breaking the tense silence. “The blood price has been paid. Shade escaped, and men we trusted are dead. Someone among us opened the way. I’ll not have this camp torn apart in whispers. We drag the snake into the fire tonight.”Murmurs rippled outward, swelling into anger.A young soldier with a scar across his cheek stepped forward, his voice trembling but loud. “And who

The campfire burned low, its glow reduced to a trembling amber halo in the darkness. Beyond its reach, the night was a living thing shifting, whispering, filled with eyes that did not belong to men. Soldiers sat in huddled groups, sharpening blades, whispering prayers, or staring at the ground as though the earth itself might give them courage. No one laughed. No one sang.For all their talk of loyalty and vengeance, the Riders of the Warlord were close. Too close. And the army knew it.Kael stood at the edge of the firelight, watching the forest beyond. His hand rested loosely on his sword hilt, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Every time the wind stirred the branches, he imagined horns blaring, shadows charging, blood spilling.Edrin approached quietly, though nothing about him was ever subtle. His cloak dragged the dirt, his staff thudding with each step. “You haven’t blinked in minutes,” he said, his voice dry. “Do you plan on scaring the Riders to death by glaring into the woods?