Everyone was stunned by Anna's revelations. It was official: war had been declared.
Some reacted with shouts and applause — warriors who had waited their whole lives for this opportunity, thirsty for glory and action. Others, however, remained still, overtaken by a heavy silence, reflecting on the weight of the words they had just heard. To them, the euphoria seemed naive. They knew war never came alone — it brought hunger, blood, and a price few were ready to pay.
The room seemed darker. Only the flickering light from outside cast long shadows across tense faces.
Yes, there was an enemy. But, against all odds, the enemy was not the Empire. So… who — and what — was it, remained a mystery. Anna didn't seem willing to say.
To Nikolai, that wasn't by chance. If they were hiding the identity of the enemy, it was because there was something intrinsic — something unacceptable — in its nature. Something that made any attempt at coexistence, agreement, or truce impossible. Only total extermination. Unrestricted.
He remembered the Leshiy: wild and primitive creatures, incapable of reasoning, yet predictable in their brutality. With them, war was simple: force against force. But if what they now faced was something intelligent, something that understood and still chose to destroy… then the problem was infinitely worse.
And there was another point — one no one dared to mention. Even though it was clear the Triad hadn't been betrayed, the fact was that no one from the North had returned. Few of those sent to the Empire survived. And Nikolai knew that among them were cowards, opportunists, people who would never die for honor or glory. That could only mean one thing: the Empire had delivered them to certain death. Maybe not with its own hands, but through the silence of abandonment. And somehow, that made the crime even more despicable.
In the end, the question burning in his mind wasn't one of hatred, but of logic:
What the hell is going on out there?
The answer to Nikolai's question came only at dinnertime, long after Anna's heated speech. A messenger from Medved delivered an official Triad pamphlet to each table — a sealed, dense document that tried to explain the situation and, at the same time, silence the most dangerous doubts.
"They really expect us to believe our continent is… inside an even bigger one?"
muttered Andrei, frowning.
"That's absurd."
Ekaterina, however, didn't seem so sure.
"Unfortunately, I think it's true. Look here, love."
She pointed to the bottom of the document. The first signatures were easy to recognize — the seal of the Triad's Three Bears. But the last three caught everyone's attention.
"I have no idea who they are,"
said Andrei, scratching his head.
Ekaterina sighed.
"Of course you wouldn't. Look… this is the signature of the Emperor. And these two here"
she ran her finger over the engraved symbols,
"are the Queen's and the King's of the Southern Shapeshifters."
Nikolai looked up, surprised. Now it made sense.
The Shapeshifters were an ancient, pacifist, and distrustful race — one of the few the Empire had allied with early in the great war. It was said not even the Benefactors had dared face them, but the reasons were impossible to know — humanoid beings capable of merging with matter itself and transforming into any creature they came into contact with. On top of that, they were immune to most known magic. On the other hand, they were notoriously neutral. They never fought. Never intervened. The fact that they had signed a war treaty alongside the Empire made everything… far too real.
"If the Shapeshifters are involved,"
Daria remarked in a low voice,
"then this is far more serious than Anna made it seem."
"I agree,"
Ekaterina added.
"Those guys don't get into fights… for anyone."
All around, the same scene repeated itself. Entire groups of tamers whispered among themselves, trying to grasp the scope of what they were reading. Some trembled with excitement; others, with fear.
That's when Nikolai noticed something.
"Where's Kuzma?"
he asked, looking around.
The answer came a few minutes later. Kuzma was coming down the stairs from the upper floors, but his expression showed something was wrong. He walked slowly, eyes unfocused — like someone still processing an invisible blow.
"Did something happen, Kuzma?"
Ekaterina asked, her voice tense.
The man took a while to respond. When he finally spoke, his tone was distant, almost hollow.
"I just spoke with Kolya…"
he said, and the pause that followed made everyone lean in to listen.
"We're staying."
"What do you mean?"
Andrei snapped, irritated.
"What did you do?"
Kuzma just shook his head.
"Nothing. It was a direct order. Kolya said our group is to remain in Svarog… clean the floors, reinforce the defense."
A heavy silence fell over the table. No one could understand. To fight in the war was an honor — being left behind, an insult. Even Kuzma seemed not to believe his own words.
"I… I need to speak with her again,"
he said at last, voice tight.
"I need to understand what's going on. I feel like the little she said doesn't make much sense."
"Wait… but what did she say?"
Daria seemed confused, trying to grasp exactly what was happening.
Then Kuzma began to share things that weren't in the official report they had received. It wasn't complete information — but it already offered a terrifying glimpse of what had happened.
Nikolai, truthfully, had no desire to fight alongside the Empire. To him, not being summoned to war was far from the worst news. Glory — that flame that had always driven the people of the North — no longer enticed him. He had learned, in the harshest way possible, that no one would fight for him, and that the only people who mattered were already by his side. And if no one would fight for him… why should he fight for others?
If Kolya said the group should stay in Svarog, then so be it. He would train. He would grow stronger. And when the moment came, he would be ready.
Of course, he felt anger. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't do anything against the unpredictable. No one knew what had happened to the group that had left earlier: whether it was the Empire or the new enemy that had destroyed them. Deep down, Nikolai didn't want to be used by either side — at least, not before uncovering the truth behind the veil that insisted on hiding the facts.
In the end, Irina had made her choice. She had chosen to believe in the Empire — and as much as that consumed him inside, Nikolai knew he had no right to hate her for it. He could have stopped her. Could have told her his story, shared his pain and his distrust — to the point there would be no chance left for her to side with the enemy. Deep down, he knew that. And that was exactly what hurt: the awareness that part of the blame was his too.
But clinging to what he could have done wouldn't change anything. It would only make him bleed inside, trapped in a past that would never return. Besides, others would follow the same path. The cycle would continue — there was always someone willing to believe the Empire's promises.
Still, a spark stubbornly refused to die inside him. A foolish hope, almost childish. If she were alive… Would she be waiting for him?
Kuzma's words, spat out to their group, had revealed more than just a string of unexpected events. They had uncovered uncomfortable truths that many would have preferred never to read. To most of those present, it all seemed like a well-crafted lie — horror stories used to keep tempers in check. A faceless enemy, a continent beyond the continent, a place from which no one returned alive… How do you fight something no one understands?
"Okay, but explain to me again what she said, because I still don't get it,"
Andrei, visibly shaken, insisted, once more asking Kuzma to repeat everything he'd managed to squeeze out of the old woman from the tower.
Kuzma took a deep breath, clearly willing to strain his memory so he wouldn't leave anything out.
"Well… Kolya said that the Empire, the envoys from the North, and a small group of shapeshifters joined in a huge expedition to the continent, crossing the Misty Sea — which, honestly, is to me the dumbest thing ever. Very honestly, I'm still trying to understand why the Empire took such an absurd step. I mean… that damned mass of fog has been there for centuries, snapping, boiling, swallowing ships — and no one has ever been willing to cross that crap."
"The fact is that all the Northerners, once they arrived in the Empire, were forced to accept the mission, along with some imperial soldiers and a handful of shapeshifters. What's known — from the shapeshifters — is that they were going on a peace mission, a first contact. Kolya, however, couldn't confirm if that was true. The Empire apparently had other plans. What they sent was far from a diplomatic group: war fleets and winged troops were dispatched."
"In the end, most of those who were sent… vanished. And by the time they realized something was very wrong, it was already too late. Few of the shapeshifters and imperial soldiers returned — and with them came news of death, blood… and some captured enemies."
"And what do they look like?"
Andrei cut in, interrupting Kuzma's line of thought.
"Actually, Kolya didn't say. And I feel that even if I asked, she wouldn't tell me. There's something really wrong with this."
"What she did tell me was only that they were strong. Extremely strong. And that they hated everyone who wasn't like them. The Sobolevs were sent to the Empire to investigate this new race and locate someone from their people. Their conclusion? No one came back. And the enemy… is unyielding. Unstoppable."
"Somehow, what they discovered was enough to convince the Triad to act. Unfortunately, I couldn't get much more out of that old woman. She believes that, since we're not going to fight, information about the enemy doesn't concern us."
"Those sons of bitches finally found someone who can screw them — and now they want to drag us into it!"
growled Ekaterina, visibly furious. After all, it was the Empire that picked this fight — not them. Why? And why now? There were still too many questions. If the Empire was upset over its own defeat — too bad. But why did the Triad have to send more people to this war? And why were the shapeshifters getting involved? The questions piled up, while the answers narrowed down to a simple "just because." And that… that was something Ekaterina would never accept.
How do you fight a threat whose strengths and weaknesses were unknown even to the Empire? Nikolai wasn't the only one who felt something was wrong. Anna's words, the pamphlets, Kolya's orders — it all reeked of a half-truth, a carefully constructed narrative to hide something much bigger.
He broke the silence at the table, his voice low but filled with conviction:
"Honestly… I'd rather stay here and protect Svarog. I don't feel comfortable fighting alongside the Empire — not without knowing the whole truth."
The reaction was immediate. All eyes turned to him — some in surprise, others in disapproval. In the short time he had been part of the group, Nikolai had always been seen as someone who sought confrontation. But at the mere mention of the Empire, the fire inside him turned to ice. It wasn't cowardice. It was disgust. And deep down, no one could blame him.
Staying in Svarog meant remaining close to his own, protecting home — and for many, that was as great an honor as dying in open battle. But there was also another feeling, harder to admit: the fear of watching the young be sent to the slaughter while the old stayed behind.
Nikolai didn't share the same spirit that had overtaken the group. While the others tried to drown their dismay in conversation and drink, he went up to his room early. He wanted to think.
The truth was simple: he wanted to fight, but didn't know how to do it without ending up being used by his enemy. He wasn't after glory. He felt time chasing him — as if every second lost pulled him further away from the power he needed to reach. If he could, he would use the Rehearsal Room one more time. But with everything turned upside down, he no longer even knew if he still had that right.
He lay on the bed, eyes lost on the ceiling.
"Ashen…"
he murmured, without raising his voice.
"Do you think I'm wrong for not wanting to side with the Empire… even if Irina might still be alive?"
The question hung in the air, too heavy to echo. There was no one to answer it. No one, except the bear beside him.
Ashen lifted his head, came closer slowly, and licked Nikolai's face gently. A simple gesture — but enough. Nikolai smiled, tired. He understood the message — Ashen would believe in him, even if his decisions were crazy, contradictory, or cowardly in the eyes of the world.
He fell asleep soon after, accepting that nothing would change, even if he spent the whole night searching for an answer.
* * *
Dawn came too soon. The sun had barely touched the windows when he got up, determined. He quickly climbed the stairs to the top floor of the tower, where the rehearsal rooms were — but they were all occupied. Kolya was nowhere to be found either. With a sigh, Nikolai understood that he needed to keep his mind busy — or he'd be devoured by his own thoughts.
He went, then, to the training grounds. When he arrived, he saw the place was deserted. It made sense: the strongest spent their last hours with their families; the weakest, those who wouldn't go to war, preferred to enjoy the pleasures of Vybor. That field — wide, silent, and cold — belonged only to him and Ashen.
Nikolai pulled Marya's notebook from his chest. The leather was worn, but still gave off that faint smell of old ink.
"Okay…"
he murmured, flipping through the pages.
"I think it's time to try that spell."
He already mastered the core techniques for his role as the group's archer: Arrow of Light, fast and penetrating; Multiplication Magic, which allowed him to fire multiple arrows in sequence; and Focus Trail, a skill that locked onto the target, preventing misses. These three made him a fortress in the rear lines — and the main reason his group had climbed the rankings. Besides them, he had learned healing and shielding spells, and even Cristerina, thanks to Ekaterina's patience. He could fill any role in the group — but he knew that wasn't enough.
War was coming. And he needed to go beyond what the group required. Unfortunately, without the rehearsal room, he wouldn't be able to hide certain abilities.
He closed the book. Looked at Ashen.
"I know you don't like it, but it's the best ability for us."
The bear grumbled low, almost like a whimper. He whimpered, reluctant. But Nikolai only smiled, the cold determination in his eyes.
"I know… but we have to try."
And, for the few who were up early and looked out from the tower's windows at the training field that morning, what they saw would never be forgotten. Because before their eyes, a boy and a bear defied the impossible — and the power that radiated from them made all of Svarog's air tremble.