redith.
The journey to the Eastern border felt endless.
The night was thick with smoke and silence, the city of Duskmoor shrinking behind us with every mile.
When our cars finally slowed and stopped, I felt a strange ache in my chest—a mix of exhaustion, relief, and sothing heavier I couldn’t na.
The air outside was cold when I stepped out. The woods whispered softly beneath the full moon, the scent of pine mixing with the faint tallic trace of blood still clinging to my skin.
Ahead of us, the rest of our people were already gathered—rows of vehicles lined neatly under the moonlight, warriors and families standing close together, waiting for our arrival.
I barely had ti to look before five familiar figures ca running toward .
"My Lady!"
Deidra reached first, nearly throwing her arms around before rembering herself and stopping short, her eyes wide with tears and relief. Cora wasn’t as restrained—she hugged tightly, and soon the others joined in.
I let them. Their warmth broke sothing inside that I didn’t realize had hardened.
"You are safe," Deidra said breathlessly, pulling back to look at . "We were so worried—there were explosions, smoke, and—"
"I’m fine," I assured them, my voice soft but steady. "The war is over now."
They smiled through tears, nodding, though I could see the fear still lingering in their eyes.
Behind , Draven’s presence drew everyone’s attention. The murmurs quieted as he stepped forward, tall and composed, the weight of leadership pressing on every line of his face.
He didn’t speak imdiately. He looked over the crowd first—faces that had followed him through blood and fire, that trusted him without question.
When he finally did speak, his voice carried through the clearing, deep and resolute.
"We have all made it this far," he began. "We have survived the fire of Duskmoor. But not all of us ca back."
A stillness fell over everyone. Even the wind seed to pause.
Draven’s gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again, sharp and commanding. "Two of our warriors fell tonight in the line of duty—defending our cause, and making sure the humans will never raise another monster from our blood again."
A low murmur rippled through the crowd—pain, sorrow, and pride all tangled together.
Deidra lowered her head beside . I could hear Cora whisper a quiet prayer.
Even Dennis, standing to one side, had gone silent, his usual smirk gone, replaced by a clenched jaw.
Draven let the silence stretch for a mont before he spoke again.
"They gave their lives so that our kind could return ho in joy, knowing that our enemies have been dealt with. We will not forget them. Their nas will be carried back to Stormveil, honoured with the highest rites."
A collective sound rose—soft, reverent, unified.
Draven’s voice softened, though the strength in it never faltered. "This war is not over," he said. "But tonight, we have won the right to go ho. Tomorrow, we rebuild. For those we lost... and for the future they fought for."
The words settled deep in my chest. I could feel the crowd’s grief shifting—no longer just pain, but purpose.
A murmur of relief spread through the crowd, though no one cheered.
Draven continued, "The journey will begin in five minutes. Each convoy will follow its assigned leader and formation, with no lights, noise, or distractions. We move as shadows through the woods. Once we reach the stop area, we rest for a few minutes, then keep moving until we reach Stormveil."
The crowd nodded, voices whispering affirmations.
When he finished, he didn’t move away imdiately. He turned slightly and t my gaze.
In his eyes, I saw the sa exhaustion I felt... and the sa quiet fire. And for a mont, neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.
Behind us, Dennis’s voice rose, giving instructions to the drivers and making sure every vehicle was ready. The hum of quiet organization filled the air.
I glanced up at the moon—bright and full, the sa moon that had watched everything burn tonight.
And for the first ti since this mission began, I allowed myself to breathe.
Draven turned slightly, his hand brushing mine. "It’s ti," he said.
I t his gaze and squeezed his hand gently. "Then let’s go ho."
He nodded once, then stepped forward, calling out the command to move.
The engines humd low in the night, a steady rhythm beneath the whisper of the forest wind.
One by one, the convoys began to roll forward, the faint glow of their dimd headlamps barely visible through the trees.
I climbed back into the car beside Draven. Jeffery had gone to another vehicle—leading one of the other groups as planned—so it was just us now, with the warrior driver behind the wheel and another warrior seated in the front passenger seat.
The car door shut with a soft thud, muting the distant murmurs of movent outside. For a few heartbeats, everything felt still—almost too still after the long, bloody night we had had.
As we pulled out onto the narrow dirt path, I turned my head toward the window.
The night stretched on endlessly, frad by the silhouettes of tall trees and the soft shimr of moonlight gliding over the convoy ahead.
I looked around, checking the line of vehicles in front, and then turned to glance behind us. The others followed—each one moving quietly, deliberately, like a dark river of ghosts flowing through the woods.
Finally, I leaned back against the seat, my chest tightening with mixed emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. Relief. Sadness. Weariness.
We were finally going ho. But what had it cost?
The faces of the fallen warriors still burned in my mind. Their last breaths, their blood on the cold floor of that lab... all because of a man’s greed.
For the first ti, I truly understood what war ant—how victory was never clean, how every triumph left a wound sowhere else.
A soft sigh escaped before I could stop it.
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