The road to Moat Caelen was silent.
What remained of the escort moved through the broken stretch of land between forests and abandoned watch towers.
No one spoke.
Not after what they had seen.
Kaelen moved at the front with the remaining guards, his armor heavy with dust and blood that was no longer fresh. Every mile forward felt less like an escape and more like a delay.
Seren stayed close to her wounded brother, Tharen. Her eyes rarely left the road, but when they did, it was not toward the trees.
But toward the empty space where Lorien should've been.
The forest line eventually thinned, and a clearing emerged ahead. The dusk began to settle over the land.
And finally...
Moat Caelen rose over the hills, like a giant watching over the land. It was surrounded by a moat.
The guards inside the castle immediately recognized the family and ordered to open the gates.
The drawbridge landed first.
And the steel reinforced wooden gates of the castle opened slowly, the wood creaking under its own weight.
No one spoke as the Stormvale family entered.
Lord Kaelen walked at the front, his steps steady but heavy. His armor was stained, his shoulders burdened by more than just the march.
Behind him, Seren supported Tharen as they moved across the courtyard. While Valera followed quietly, her head lowered.
Inside the courtyard, someone was already waiting for them.
Lady Alara Stormvale.
She stepped forward, her long, silken raven hair spilling over the shoulders of her fine traveling gown. Her porcelain skin, usually so composed, was deathly pale. her soft blue eyes, the same blue as her children's, searched the weary group, they widened with a desperate frantic count.
She counted each face...
Looking for someone who wasn't there anymore.
"...Kaelen?" she called.
He stopped in front of her.
For a moment, he said nothing.
"...Where's my son?" she asked.
Kaelen lowered his gaze.
His eyes closed.
"...He didn't make it."
Alara's knees gave out instantly as she heard those words.
A broken sob escaped her as she collapsed onto the dirt.
"No... no..." her voice trembled, her hands pressing against the ground.
"Not my boy... not him..."
Seren rushed forward and knelt beside her.
"Mother..." she held her, her voice shaking despite her effort to stay composed.
"Don't cry... please…"
Alara clutched her tightly, as her body trembled.
"I sent him away... I let him go..." she cried.
"He was just there..."
Seren bit her lips down hard, her eyes burning as tears welled up.
"Mother... It's not your fault..." she whispered, her voice breaking.
But her tears fell anyway.
Kaelen just stood where he was.
His head lowered and eyes closed.
Tharen remained behind them. He couldn't move.
His gaze shifted between his mother on the ground and Seren trying to hold her together...
And his father... Kaelen, standing still as stone.
Tharen clenched his hands slowly.
"This is my fault..."
"I'm so stupid. I should've listened."
He said nothing.
He just stood there...
And carried the pressure of his mistake.
Time passed.
Grief settled, it wasn't gone, just quieter.
Inside the great hall, a map of Stormvale Castle was laid across the table.
Torches flickered along the stone walls.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The silence in the chamber was different from the silence outside.
One of the captains leaned forward over the map, fingers tracing the outer roads of Stormvale's territory.
"We need to fortify this stronghold immediately," he said.
"If they've taken the castle, they will secure supply routes next. That means the northern passes and the river crossings are at risk."
Another captain shook his head.
"Fortifying alone is not enough. If they struck this deep once, they can do it again. Defense will only buy time."
The room tightened.
Each sentence added weight, like stone being stacked on already tired shoulders.
Kaelen stood at the head of the table, listening without interruption. His hands rested on the edge of the map. His face gave nothing away, but the tension in his jaw did not ease.
Finally, one of the younger captains spoke again.
"My lord... if Redard passage has truly fallen, then retaking it will require siege preparation, siege engines, and time. It will take months, possibly more."
A brief pause followed.
The words hung heavier than the chandler above them.
Kaelen finally spoke.
"We will take it back."
All eyes turned toward him.
"But my lord..." the younger captain hesitated.
"With what forces?"
"They overreached," Kaelen continued, eyes still on the map.
"A strike like this means they extended beyond their supply safety. No army stretches this far into Valerran borders without exposing its rear."
The older captain narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You believe this was a raid force?"
"No, it was meant to be decisive," Kaelen replied. "And decisive attacks require speed, coordination... and sacrifice of stability."
"So how do you plan to take it back?" The captain asked, uncertain.
Kaelen tapped once on a point eastern of Redard passage.
"If we call the banners now, they will not have time to consolidate. Every house of Valerra that answers will tighten the net around them before they can entrench."
The younger captain hesitated.
"And if they have already entrenched?"
Kaelen's eyes lifted slightly.
"Then we break them before they finish building what they think they have taken."
One of the captains exhaled slowly.
"Calling the banners will not be simple, my lord. Some houses will delay. Others will question why Stormvale failed to hold the pass. And if word reaches the capital... the King will demand explanation."
"Then the King will hear it from us first." He straightened.
"Send messengers to every house of Valerra. I don't want any delays." Kaelen ordered.
He paused once.
Then added:
"And send word to the capital. The King must know that Stormvale has been breached."
The captain bowed his head.
"As you say, my lord."
He turned and left the hall immediately, already calling for runners outside the doors.
The sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor.
But the room didn't calm.
Because what had been decided was not comfort.
It was war.
As the chamber settled again, Lady Alara remained standing near the tall window at the far end of the hall.
She had not spoken during the council.
Outside the glass, the courtyard was cold and empty, lit only by scattered torchlight and the shadows of guards shifting along the walls.
Her reflection in the window did not look like someone who had just lost a son.
It looked like someone who had not yet fully understood what had been taken from her.
Then, without turning around, she spoke.
"Where's Aldric...?" Her voice was quiet.
"...The one raised and trained by Gavin."
Kaelen turned his head slightly.
"He stayed behind during the retreat. We don't know what happened to him."
A pause.
"And Gavin?" Alara asked.
Kaelen hesitated for the first time since entering the hall.
"He didn't make it," he said finally.
"If not for his sacrifice, we would not have returned."
Silence followed.
A deeper silence than before.
Because sacrifice was expected in war.
But loss always sounded different when named.
Alara did not respond.
She simply continued to look through the window, as if expecting to see someone walking back across the courtyard at any moment.
Valera heared everything, she leaned on the table, holding her hands.
"Where is he... he should have returned by now..." Valera thought.
As the night settled...
Somewhere else. Beyond the walls...
The Greatwood forest stretched.
A forest of endless trees and mist.
And somewhere within it–
Broken branches lay scattered across the damp earth.
A smear of dried blood marked a stone near the base of a drop.
The fall had been real.
The impact... should have ended it.
But there was no body.
Further ahead...
There was a drag path of blood.
Then–
Unsteady footprints...
Continuing deeper into the forest...
As the wind grew colder and the moonlight loomed over the stronghold.
There was still no sign of him and the others who were left behind.
The doors of the hall suddenly burst open.
A guard rushed in, his breath uneven.
"My lord–!"
Kaelen turned.
"There's someone at the gate."
They moved quickly.
Boots echoed through the wooden floor and the stone corridors.
More guards had already gathered at the gatehouse.
But none of them stepped forward.
They only watched.
"...Why hasn't it been shut?" the captain asked.
A guard answered quietly.
"We kept it open in case some survivors return, captain."
"Keep it shut next time," the captain muttered.
"Understood." The guard replied.
Cold air flowed through the entrance.
And there–
It was Aldric.
He stood just inside the gate, covered in dried blood.
His weight was uneven, one shoulder lower than the other. His hand pressed against his side as if holding himself together more than the wound.
His Hauberk torn, his blue surcoat darkened with blood stains that weren't all his.
His head tilted down. His body barely standing.
He didn't move when they arrived.
Only his head lifted slightly at the sound of footsteps.
Aldric's eyes moved over them slowly.
Kaelen stepped forward first.
"Aldric."
A pause.
"...What happened?"
There was no response.
His breath came uneven.
He shifted slightly, as if the effort of standing still was more difficult than walking had been.
No one spoke immediately after.
His condition explained everything.