Dawn crept in quietly, muted and gray.
The fog still clung to the ruins like a shroud, casting the town in a ghostly silence that felt too still—too calm. The early morning light filtered weakly through the haze, painting the broken buildings in a cold, steel-blue hue. The world felt suspended in a breath before the plunge.
Jack was already awake. He hadn't really slept—just drifted in and out of shallow rest, eyes flickering open at every snap of wind or creak of wood. He sat on the edge of his makeshift bedding, tightening the final strap on his plate carrier. His M4 rested across his lap, freshly cleaned and loaded. His sidearm was holstered. His knife sheathed at his hip. Every piece of gear was in its place, every movement sharp and practiced.
This wasn't nervous energy. This was preparation—ritual. A soldier's rhythm.
One by one, the rest of the team stirred. Monte was the first to rise, his staff slung across his back, eyes still heavy but determined. Talon followed, already armored, his shield strapped to his forearm, his helmet hanging from his belt. Ein emerged next, stretching her limbs with a feline grace, her eyes locking briefly with Jack's. She gave him a small, knowing nod—no words needed.
Jess was last. She looked tired, but resolute. The fire from last night had dulled, but her purpose hadn't. She wore a simple cloak over her hunting leathers, her bow slung across her shoulders. A dagger glinted at her thigh.
Jack stepped into the center of the square, his voice firm but low, mindful of any lingering ears in the mist.
"Zero five hundred. Right on time," he said, eyes sweeping across the team. "Today, we move fast and we hit hard. According to Jess, the enemy encampment is less than three miles northwest—tucked into a canyon with limited exits. That means we're either walking out or we're being dragged out."
Talon gave a single nod, already prepared for both.
"We don't know what we're walking into, but we have the element of surprise. Monte, you'll take point with me. We'll breach and disrupt. Talon, Ein—keep our flanks secure. Jess will guide us in, but once we engage, she falls back and stays covered. No exceptions."
"I can fight," Jess protested softly, her voice sharp with pride.
Jack met her eyes. "You want to help your brother? Stay alive. We may need your knowledge after this is over."
She hesitated, then nodded.
Jack's gaze hardened as he looked toward the horizon. "This mission isn't just about rescuing one person. It's about sending a message. The Knights of Ciradil think they can burn down homes and walk away untouched. Today, we show them they're wrong."
Ein slid up beside Jack as the others made final checks on their gear.
"I didn't dream last night," she said quietly. "That hasn't happened in a long time."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Good or bad?"
Ein shrugged. "Just… quiet. Like everything inside me was waiting for this."
Jack didn't respond, but the ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Monte approached, staff crackling faintly with latent fire. "Let's get this over with before the sun decides to burn through this fog. I don't want them seeing us coming."
Jack nodded. "Move out."
With silent steps and steeled resolve, the group disappeared into the mist, the shattered ruins of the town falling behind them like a forgotten memory. Ahead, the land sloped upward—toward the canyon, toward the unknown.
The anticipation made the march seem slow and fast at the same time. Before they knew it, they were upon the encampment.
The canyon walls rose like jagged teeth from the earth, their dark stone faces casting deep shadows that hid the encampment from sight until the team was nearly on top of it.
Jack raised a closed fist, halting the group at the edge of a low ridge just before the final incline. They crouched behind a thicket of stone and brush, the fog thinning but still clinging to the lower canyon floor. Beyond the bend, the faint glow of torchlight flickered through the haze.
Jack crawled forward on his stomach, pulling a small spyglass from his vest and raising it slowly to his eye. Through the lens, the Knights of Ciradil's encampment came into focus.
A makeshift wooden gate had been constructed between two stone outcroppings, forming a crude checkpoint. Two guards stood at the entrance—both armored in worn silver plate with crimson tabards, their polearms resting against their shoulders. They weren't alert. At least, not yet. But this wasn't a camp for show. It was fortified, organized.
Jack frowned.
"We're here," he whispered to the group, not looking back. "Two sentries at the gate. There's more beyond that—I can hear movement, see shifting shadows. Maybe thirty, maybe more."
He lowered the spyglass and turned to Ein, his expression serious.
"I need you for this," he said quietly.
Ein looked up from her crouch, her expression already knowing. "Scouting?"
Jack nodded. "You're our eyes. You're the only one quiet and flexible enough to get in and out unseen. Find out how many soldiers, where they're stationed, if they're guarding any prisoners. Look for weaknesses—blind spots, guard rotations, open paths we can exploit."
He placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, steadying, reassuring. "But don't take any risks you don't have to. Get in. Get out. If you're not back in thirty minutes, we move without intel."
Ein smirked slightly. "You won't have to. I'll be back before your heart rate even rises."
Then her expression softened. "You trust me for this?"
Jack met her gaze. "With my life."
Without another word, Ein slid into the mist like a shadow unbound, moving low and fast, her dark leathers blending into the canyon walls. Within seconds, she was gone—swallowed by the gloom.
The rest of the team remained still behind the ridge. Jack settled back into cover, watching the torchlight, counting breaths. Each second stretched longer than the last.
Monte leaned in slightly. "If anyone can do it, it's her."
Jack didn't answer. He just kept his eyes fixed on the gate, his hand resting on the grip of his rifle.
Twenty-eight minutes to go.
Ein melted into the shadows, a whisper of movement against the rough stone and creeping fog.
Her footsteps were soft, calculated — nothing more than a ghost brushing past dry leaves. She slipped between rocks and clung to the canyon wall, every muscle coiled and ready. The chill of the early morning wrapped around her, but she barely noticed. Focus sharpened her senses, heightened every nerve ending.
Ahead, the two guards stood like statues, their dull silver armor catching faint torchlight. Their conversation was low, voices rough with boredom. Perfect. Ein's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
With a lithe leap, she vaulted from one boulder to the next, her body fluid and precise — a dancer on a razor's edge. Her movements were effortless but powerful: a vault, a roll, a tight twist to avoid a loose plank that might betray her presence with a creak. Each motion was a testament to years of training and instinct, a silent symphony of control and grace.
Sliding into a narrow gap between two crates, she crouched low, her shadow merging with the darkness. She stretched, arching her back with the flexibility of a cat, elongating limbs to reach across the gap without exposing herself. Her eyes flicked upward, scanning for patrols as she wriggled like liquid silk through the tight space.
A faint breeze teased loose strands of her dark hair, and she brushed them behind her ear with a casual flick, as if to say, Not today, they won't see me coming.
From her vantage point, Ein could see more guards: clusters of soldiers milling by tents, a few sharpening blades, others exchanging whispered orders. But her focus was on the prisoners — somewhere deeper inside.
A wooden beam overhead looked unstable, and with a subtle flick of her foot, she used it to launch herself upward. Her muscles coiled, then stretched out like a drawn bow as she soared gracefully onto a narrow ledge. One hand gripped a rusty pipe; the other steadied her body against the wall. Her silhouette was striking, almost statuesque in the pale torchlight — a perfect blend of lethal power and sensual elegance.
Moving along the ledge, Ein's breaths slowed, her eyes sharp as daggers. Below her, the camp's layout unfolded like a map, every detail seared into her mind. Her fingertips brushed the rough stone, steadying her as she peered into a tent guarded by two heavily armed knights.
Inside, faint murmurs and the rustle of chains told her everything she needed to know. Prisoners. Multiple. But no sign of Jess's brother.
She dropped silently to the ground behind a stack of barrels, rolling to absorb the impact without a sound. Her heart beat steady, but a flicker of impatience stirred beneath her cool exterior.
Time was running out.
Ein darted forward, her movements quick and deliberate — a shadow weaving through the camp, slipping between legs and behind tents like liquid night. Her dark leathers clung to her, allowing every twist and turn without resistance, her body bending and stretching to escape the prying eyes of the guards.
A low growl from a guard dog startled her, but Ein was already vaulting over the fence, her fingers catching the rough wood just in time. She swung up and over with feline agility, landing silently on the other side. The rush of adrenaline mixed with a thrill — the danger, the hunt, the certainty of survival.
She paused for a heartbeat, allowing herself a brief breath before melting once more into the shadows, racing back toward Jack and the waiting team with the knowledge they so desperately needed.